I started my Tuesday with a trip to the immigration office to renew my tourist visa. Everything went as it normally does, except that when I got my paperwork back, it included instructions for leaving the country and a handwritten “last extension.” I guess I’ve just about worn out my welcome.
I’ve been renewing my tourist visa every sixty days. The maximum time in country on a tourist visa is three years. My time is up in December.
Right now, I’m in the initial planning phase for a trip to Cambodia next month. I was disappointed to see I’m going to have to fly out of Manila instead of the much more conveniently located airport in Angeles. Provided the Philippines allows me to re-enter the country, my tourist visa clock resets for three years. Returning shouldn’t be a problem now that I’ve been vaxxed, but there are several paperwork hoops I need to jump through before I can get back in. Hopefully, there won’t be any problems with that.
No excitement at the grocery store unless you find steadily increasing prices exciting. The only saving grace is the dollar continues to gain strength.
This is a historic high for the dollar. Not enough to keep up with inflation, but better than nothing.
Jen, one of the Hideaway girls, had a birthday yesterday, and Joy asked me to bring her a cake.
She seemed to appreciate the sentiment.
After I departed Hideaway, I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go. I had half a mind (shuddup!) to enjoy the vistas from BarCelona, but as I passed by It Doesn’t Matter, it occurred to me that I shouldn’t let my disappointment with being a bad judge of character impact my choices on where to enjoy a cold beer. Time to let the past go and move on, so IDM it was.
I actually spent more time than I usually do there, almost two hours. I greeted all the familiar faces, then settled into my outdoor seat to watch the world go by. And guess who was sitting next to me, keeping me company?
That’s right, no one. I bought zero lady drinks during my visit. I usually buy several at 200 pesos a pop, so my savings were pretty significant. Although, honestly, it’s never been about the money for me.
In case you are wondering, yes, Agnes was my waitress. I was, of course, polite, and she was friendly. That’s the way it should be.
By the time I departed IDM, I was feeling no pain. The usual trike stands were empty, so I hoofed it up the highway all the way to Queen Victoria. Popped in there and had one more for the road, then found a trike for home.
I woke up this morning to a Facebook reminder that I was hanging out in Pattaya, Thailand, six years ago.
I visited a place called Pussy Bar, and this lovely lady kept me company. There was something special about her; I could feel it inside me. Turns out, there was no pussy in pussy bar, only ladyboys. This one was very friendly, but she didn’t get my cherry.
There is a boy I love, though, right here in Barretto:
I love how he is making the heart symbol with his front legs. Love you too, Buddy!
A nice hike with the Wednesday Walkers I’ll post about tomorrow. It’s feeding night again at Hideaway, and I baked up a batch of carrot cupcakes to share with the girls for dessert (I’ll order a pizza for the main course).
Out of the oven…Cream cheese frosting and ready to go!
Alright, that brings y’all up to date in my corner of the world. See you here again soon!
A pretty nice Hash yesterday. A lot of the trail I did was unfamiliar to me, and that’s always a plus. It was challenging enough without being insanely difficult. Which is not to say I didn’t shortcut; of course I did! I was dead last amongst the early group, and when all the runners from the late group had passed me, I figured I’d best get back On-Home before all the beer was gone. If I have any regrets, they are too few to mention.
The trail as intended, with my deviation in blue.Gathering inside the VFW before the hike.And outside for last-minute instructions from the Hare.And we are On-On!We began on the backstreets of Barretto.A narrow escapeUp the stairs to the squatter’s villageIn the squatter villageA squatter’s view of Easter mountainThen down into Alta VistaOn the wide-open streets of my neighborhood. We actually walked right past my current residence.We exited the ‘hood on a path I’ve seldom traversed.The trail had some ups and downs and a creek crossing but was pleasant for the most part.Thatch grass in full blossom.A view from on highMe and these three were bringing up the rear. Not sure why I was so slow yesterday, that’s just my way I suppose.People live back here in the woods.This wouldn’t be the life for me.I’d never seen a plant like this, but one of my group said it can be used like soap.Selfie timeOur On-Home was at Blue Butterfly this week.Drink it down, down, down, down.
Some after-Hash beers at It Doesn’t Matter. Agnes greeted me with a hug. I was polite. No, I didn’t buy her a drink.
But I had another one when I got back home just for the helluva it. That’s my way.
That seems to be the way it works around these parts.
Anyway, before I go into rant mode, let me share the photos from last night’s feeding at Hideaway. After finishing my doctor’s appointment, I ordered take-out from Sit-n-Bull for the girls.
Chicken fingers…Lumpia…And lasagna, Joy’s favorite.Yum!Joy also sank her teeth into a cranberry muffin.
As usual, it was a good time, and the girls were all appreciative. The bi-weekly feeding events are something we all look forward to.
But here’s the darker side. I stopped in another bar after leaving Hideaway. One of the girls currently working there briefly participated in my “friends with benefits” program while she was unemployed during the scamdemic. She’s got three kids, including one that might be just over one year old now (she was still lactating when she was an FWB). Nice enough gal and very attractive. The problem was that I discovered she is still married. That’s not unusual, I suppose, especially since divorce is not allowed in the Philippines. But her husband was still living at home with her and the kids. Adultery is a crime in the PI, and I had no intention of going down that road. I don’t know if he knew what his wife was doing with me, but I didn’t want to be around her if and when he found out. So, I stopped seeing her and shortly thereafter ended the FWB program. We did remain Facebook friends.
She came back to work in the bar several months ago, and we renewed our “lady drink” relationship. She told me her husband was working out of town. One night she came into the bar on her night off with a foreigner. That’s pretty unusual in and of itself; most of the girls keep their non-work life out of the bar. I guess he was a tourist because he’s now back in his home country. I know this because the girl in question is posting endless threads on Facebook (with photos of their video chats), professing her endless and undying love for this man. Hell, for all I know, she might even mean it. But last night, she took her usual seat next to me in expectation of getting lady drink commissions.
At first, I was inclined just to ignore her. The were two other gals vying for my attention as well. One is new, and the other I’ve known for years. But in the end, I just decided it was none of my business. Odds are good she is scamming this guy for monthly “support” money, and honestly if he is stupid enough to send it to her, why should I care? I wouldn’t be surprised if the husband is a willing participant. Having a “rich” foreigner around helps pay the rent. Indeed, perhaps I should congratulate her. Well, I guess I sort of did when I bought her the drink she coveted. See, that’s how the game is played, and I’m getting better at it. The trick is not to get played in the process.
I also heard from Agnes for the first time since she abandoned her lady drink from me to play kissy-face with another guy in the bar. I responded to her message by asking how things were going with the boyfriend. She answered that he was “just a friend.” I said, “do you tongue-kiss all your friends in the middle of a crowded bar?” For some reason, she never responded to that question. Oh well.
I’ve got a healthy case of “I don’t give a shit anymore” now, and I’m just going to do what I want when I want with whomever I want and not even worry about it. None of this crap is real, anyway. There’s freedom in that knowledge.
Things went fine with the doctor. I got another set of nostril injections, and today I have a good reduction in congestion (I couldn’t breathe through my nose at all yesterday). I’m still dealing with my lung issues, but I fear that may be my new normal. I’m still in the game as long as I’m still breathing, and that’s how I want to keep it.
I was an HR professional for 30+ years, but I see now I was in the wrong kind of HR.
It’s another Hash Monday, so here’s hoping it’s a good day on trail. Back with a full report tomorrow.
You can't hide your lyin' eyes
And your smile is a thin disguise
I thought by now you'd realize
There ain't no way to hide your lyin' eyes
Fall has arrived in the Philippines! But around here, it ain’t the leaves that are falling off trees…
…it’s the branches!
The construction behind my house continues apace, and the noise is quite irritating. Annoising if you will. I try and time my nap from noon until 1:00 while the workers are on lunch break.
As things are taking shape, it looks like part of my view will survive. I expect I’ll be gone before the construction is finished, though.
Escaping the sounds of creation makes my morning walks all the more pleasant.
And it looks like rainy season is finally behind us.
So, about last night. I had good intentions to start the evening off with some darts practice. Then I remembered that Barretto was undergoing a scheduled brownout (power interruption) until 5 p.m. (I’m technically in San Isidro, so wasn’t impacted). I knew Johansson’s wouldn’t have a generator, so I left the darts at home and went to It Doesn’t Matter instead.
It was the first time I’d been back since the incident with Agnes, and she wasn’t there. Maybe her biker boyfriend is supporting her now. None of my business, and I certainly wouldn’t be buying her drinks again, regardless. My waitress this time was Maria, and she’d always been flirty, and after a couple of beers, I invited her to join me (I know, I know, but old habits die hard.) She brings her beer over to where I’m seated; we tap bottles, she takes a swig and says, “I’ll be back.” Maybe you’ve guessed where this is going–she never returned to finish her beer. I really don’t understand that mentality at all; the deal is she gets the commission, and I get some of her time. Ignoring a customer is a losing proposition in the long run–Maria will certainly never get a drink from me in the future. Maybe I should be thanking her for saving me the money.
When it came time for me to move on, I was craving an elevated view. I decided BarCelona would give me what I was looking for. I ordered a beer and took a seat out on the rooftop.
Off to my right, the sun was going down.And on my left, the moon was rising. It was an interesting juxtaposition as I drank my beer and pondered the mysteries of the universe.
When it was time to refresh my beer, there was no waitress to be found (I was alone on the roof). So, I went inside and noted that the girls were all congregated around the pool table. I stood at the bar and waited (the bartender was MIA as well). After a few minutes, a waitress did approach me and said what sounded like, “You should sit beside me; I don’t want to have to go all the way out there.” I gave a grumpy response along the lines of “sorry to make you do your job,” and went back to my table to wait for the beer. When she brought it, she sat down next to me, which surprised me a little. She said, “yeah, I want to be close when you need another beer; that’s why I said I would sit next to you.” Ah, I had misunderstood what she said before; okay, my bad. We had a nice chat, and I wound up buying her a drink to make up for the misunderstanding.
I had a “buy one, get one” coupon for Hot Zone, so I made that my next destination. It wasn’t busy when I arrived, so I settled back and watched the dancers as I sipped my beer. HZ does have some of the hottest girls in town on stage; I’ll grant them that. Well, except they weren’t on stage long–a group of Korean men came in and brought all but one of the dancers down for lady drinks. I think they had most of the waitresses around their table too. Ah, just like the good ol’ days–big-spending tourists spoil the girls, so locals like me don’t have to! Well done, gentlemen.
I left Hot Zone and headed down the highway toward home, but I still had an hour or so to kill. I paused at Sloppy Joe’s but decided to do Queen Victoria instead. They weren’t busy either, and I was still on my first beer when my old regular TinTin plopped down on the stool next to me. She didn’t perform with the QV group at the SOB, so I asked her about that. She said she hadn’t had time to learn the new routine yet. I responded that she should tell her new boyfriend she needs to practice. She answered, “I don’t have a boyfriend.” The Tagalog word for that is “bola bola,” which roughly translates as “bullshit.”
I offered TinTin a drink in exchange for a photo. Dental care in this country is as whacked as medical treatment. When TinTin smiles now, she is missing several upper teeth, what I call the choppers. Pulling teeth in the USA is like the last option; here, it is the go-to solution for a toothache. TinTin is just twenty-one years old. I guess someday she’ll have a bridge made, assuming she can ever afford to do so. Anyway, I wanted a picture of that toothless smile, and she wouldn’t cooperate. I bought her a drink anyway.
I will also confess that seeing that toothless grin made me wonder how good she is at blowjobs. Yeah, I’m a sick bastard.
I didn’t stay long at Queen Vic, and after exiting the building, I noted there were no trikes standing by in the usual location, so I walked a couple of blocks to the trike stand at Baloy road. And, of course, that put me out in front of Snackbar. It’s been a few weeks since my last appearance there (I hadn’t felt welcome), but my beer impairment overcame whatever grievances I was holding, and I popped in to have one more for the road. I was very surprised to see Lydell, one of my favorites from the now-defunct Kamto, working there. Last I’d seen her; she was at Adam’s Bar. And most of the other regulars did give me a hearty welcome back, so maybe those grievances were all in my head. And yes, we celebrated my return with a round of lady drinks. What can I say? I guess it’s just my nature.
Seriously, I do enjoy being generous with the girls. Makes me feel good, so it’s as much about me as it is about them. Rather than change my ways, I’m thinking avoiding the bad ones (like Agnes and Maria at IDM) is a better course of action. We’ll see how that works out for me.
Why do I find this so funny?
And that brings y’all right up to date. Feeding night a Hideaway later. I also have an appointment with Dr. Jo this afternoon. Updates on all that tomorrow.
Rules are for slaves, and I refuse to be a slave to my own rules. Yeah, that’s the ticket!
I started my SOB Friday with a stop at Cheap Charlies. I reasoned that CC is directly across the street from the SOB host, Hot Zone. I wanted to keep an eye on when the doors opened to ensure I got a good seat in a relatively small venue. My strategy worked, and I was one of the first to arrive. When the event started, every seat in the house was occupied.
I hadn’t been to Cheap Charlies in a week or two, but that didn’t prevent three of my old regulars from taking seats beside and behind me. I nursed my beer, and the girls rubbed my arms and back. I didn’t relent and buy them lady drinks, though. I was there for less than an hour, and that didn’t burden my willpower much. I did give them each a 50 peso tip when I left, which I considered payment for services rendered.
I also ignored my “regular” at Hot Zone. To be fair, she’s been ignoring me too ever since I declined to give her 2000 pesos so she could visit her kids. Rule #1 (don’t be a sucker) must not be broken! During the show, my waitress also gave me a backrub in between serving other customers. I deemed her worthy of the coveted lady drink in recognition of her efforts. In fact, I bought her three over the course of the evening.
The Aftermath gathering was at The Green Room. My ex, Marissa, is a waitress there, and she had saved me my favorite seat. That warranted a lady drink, right? And then the woman who normally handles the pool table, which was out of service during the Aftermath event, laughed at all of the jokes I told (they were all new to her). She earned a lady drink reward as well. Later, I was approached by this sweet little thing who walked up to me and introduced herself. I could barely understand her and wasn’t interested in her company, so I politely sent her away. When she joined my female Hash friend (What’s Up Doc) at her table, I was curious, so I went over to say hello. Turns out the sweet young thing is her 19-year-old niece. Yikes! Of course, I bought them both a drink but told the cutie she could stay with her Auntie.
So, did I violate my moratorium on lady drink purchases? I declare my innocence. I was not buying company or engaging in the “she really likes me” fantasies last night. I was just being polite and rewarding good behavior. There’s a difference.
My winnings for the night:
Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me next week!
The other big event yesterday was the group hike. I mentioned in another post that it had been quite a while since our last venture up to the Kalaklan ridge. So, we hiked a trail we hadn’t down since last November. There is no easy way to the top, but our path wasn’t as crazy as the notorious “Motherfucker” and “Stairway to Heaven” trails. Maybe we should henceforth call it “Better Than Those Others.” Our up took us to the Great Wall of Barretto; then, we had a leisurely stroll along the ridgeline before heading back down to our little town.
The eye in the sky documenting our path.Our gathering place next to the Savers appliance store.A small but hardy group of hikers yesterday.Hillside livingUp we goThat bridge ain’t gonna cross itself!Local hillbilliesLooking back down at Barretto beachThings were definitely on the up and upSteep it was in places. My tired old legs and lungs were feeling it.Trudging on to our target destination.Goal achievedOn the Great Wall of BarrettoThe view from here.A bay viewA little R&R on the ridgeI’m a swinger, doncha know?Walkin’ the ridgeline.A shy childAnd a ‘cock farmLocked out!We’ll climb over your silly little fence!On the road againTime to head on down. Look out for that barbed wire!Easter mountain is a long way away.It was a gradual descent–that’s the best kind!Top to bottomThe last of the downsBack on the mean streets of Barretto…Banaba street, to be precise.And Dick is there to greet us upon arrival at his place.
A very nice day on trail.
This morning brought the news that a local legend, Johnnie Tango, died after suffering a heart attack. Congratulations on a life well-lived, and may you always Rest in Peace.
This reminds me of something Johnnie would have said.
A pretty mundane Thursday, but then, a day without drama is a good thing.
I treated myself to breakfast on the beach at Harley’s.The Swedish pancakes with a side of bacon and some black coffee hit the spot.
After eating, I took a walk to the end of Baloy road, then back on the beach.
Another beautiful morning here in paradise.
Came back home and napped, then wrote TWO blog posts to satiate the hunger of my faithful readers.
I’d mentioned thinking it was time to change my routines where I’d rely less on unreliable bargirls for my entertainment. One idea is to start playing darts again, so yesterday, I took my arrows with me when I went into town for my daily dose of beer. I picked Johansson’s as my practice venue because they have nice boards, very few customers, and no bargirl distractions.
The view from my barstool.Johansson’s dining areaThe pool table and one of two dart boards.
It had been months since I’d touched my darts, and it showed. My first few throws were off the board. Yeah, I don’t recall being that bad, even as a rookie. The longer I threw, the better my accuracy became, but it was still nowhere near the level I need to achieve to be competitive.
In one hour of practice, I threw one 6-mark, two 5-marks, and a 3-bulls shot.
Two triple 20s.Five 17sFive 16sAnd three bullseyes
My big concern is that the lack of consistency is compounded by the fact that my darts are frequently “leaners” (not going into the board straight) which can result in fallouts and blocked shots. Anyway, it was only day one of practice; we’ll see how it goes on Saturday.
Where to next? I’m taking a break from several of my usual haunts for now (Snackbar, Cheap Charlies, It Doesn’t Matter, and Blue Butterfly), leaving me twenty-something venues to choose from. Well, I needed some exercise (that was my excuse), so I hoofed it across town and paid an off-schedule visit to Hideaway Bar. What can I say? I’m comfortable there.
A little excitement on the highway out front. I’ve never seen less skilled drivers than Filipinos. Sorry, but that’s a fact. I get road rage in the passenger seat just watching the stupidity of your average driver here.
When it was time to move on, I made my way to BarCelona for a couple more beers. Service was marginally better, and I do enjoy the atmosphere that comes with sitting outdoors on the rooftop.
And then, as I made my way home, I decided to live dangerously, and I popped into Sloppy Joe’s, the scene of the robbery I posted about yesterday. No one tried to steal my necklace (probably because I wasn’t wearing one). I did wind up buying a lady drink. My waitress there remembered me from the pre-scamdemic days when she worked at Man Cave. Don’t worry; I have no interest in engaging in the bargirl game and the chicanery associated with it; this was just a “nice to see you again” drink. In fact, I left before she finished drinking it.
I participated in a very nice hike today that I’ll post about tomorrow, but we did finish at Dynamite Dick’s where Dick updated us on the stabbing incident I mentioned in yesterday’s post. So it seems the culprit, ironically named Cutter, is a guy from Seattle in his mid-30s. Dick wasn’t there at the time of the incident, but he told us Cutter’s victim (the wife) is still in the hospital recovering from her wounds. The actions of Cutter were entirely out of character and resulted from some kind of mental breakdown, which may or may not have been fueled by drugs (meth is pretty popular with some folks here).
The wife declined to press charges against her husband, so police released him to the custody of immigration officials who transported Cutter to Manila for deportation. Apparently, Cutter had another breakdown, and then authorities gave him a shot of something to calm him down. Cutter then went into cardiac arrest and died. So, I guess that’s the end of the story.
This evening I’ll be attending the SOB at Hot Zone. And that’s where things stand as of now.
That’s a familiar face about town, Jim (aka Jimbo or Daddy Jim)
I only had a nodding acquaintance with Jim. I’d frequently see him at Sit-n-Bull and out in the bars. I first met him when he was a regular at Alley Cats, where he was known to be a big spender. My ex, Marissa, was one of his favorites there. The last time I saw him was three weeks ago in Hot Zone, where he was sharing drinks with his favorite girl. As much as Jim enjoyed drinking with the bargirls, I’m told he never took any of them home with him. Kinda like me in that regard.
Jim hung himself yesterday morning. It came as a big surprise to the folks who knew him well because he always appeared to be enjoying himself. He was 78 years old. Lately, his health seems to have been deteriorating, one of his legs was swollen, and he was using a cane. I’m speculating that once it became evident that he would no longer be able to go out and do the things he loved doing, like buying drinks for the ladies, he chose to end his life. I can actually respect that. I would not want to continue living if I were confined to my house. Although perhaps I’ll feel differently if and when that day comes.
The folks who knew Jim were devasted at his passing as he was evidently a good and generous man. Rest in Peace, Jimbo. Your suffering is over now.
And then there was this guy yesterday afternoon.
I don’t recognize him at all, but I saw the video this still was taken from. He got down on his knees in the middle of the freakin’ National Highway and apparently had some kind of mental breakdown. Somehow he managed to avoid being run over, which is a minor miracle in itself. After a few minutes, he got up and entered Dynamite Dick’s, the small bar directly in front of where he put on his crazy show. Once inside, he apparently blacked out. Someone called his wife, who used to be a waitress at Dick’s. When she woke him, he stood up and proceeded to stab her multiple times. I understand she survived that attack, and her husband was taken into custody by the police. Witnesses say the culprit wasn’t drunk, just out of his mind. Scary shit.
And in the wee hours of the morning, there was some excitement at Sloppy Joe’s
A couple of guys on a motorbike pulled up, and one of them ripped a necklace off one of the bar patrons. Someone grabbed the robber in a chokehold, and another customer subdued the one on the bike. The police were summoned, and when the culprits were searched, one of them was carrying a loaded pistol. That all could have gone so wrong. I walk past Sloppy Joe’s frequently and occasionally stop in for a beer. But I’m never out at two in the morning when the druggies are searching for victims to fund their habit.
And then there is the story about my friend Bhel’s son, James.
Two days ago, he woke up with a swollen body and running a fever. Bhel went to see my doctor here in Barretto, and she said he needed to be taken to the hospital immediately. So, Bhel took him to one of the private hospitals in Olongapo City, YMMV, or something like that. She had to wait a couple of hours to be seen. By the time a doctor there looked at him and scheduled some tests, it was too late to have the results reviewed. James was exhausted so mom took him home.
Yesterday morning, she was back, and the doctor said that based on the test results (and by now, James was having difficulty breathing), he needed to be admitted to a hospital right away. He suggested Bhel take him to Gordon, the public hospital. When she gets to Gordon, they tell her no ward space or private rooms are available, to try again tomorrow. She rightfully called bullshit and went back to YMMV. YMMV told her that her PhilHealth insurance (the national health plan in the PI) wasn’t accepted there. A hospital stay was 2100 pesos per day, plus doctor and medicine charges. Further, she would need to pay 6000 pesos in advance to have James admitted. I wired her the money.
Well, when the original doctor found out James had been admitted, he was pissed because YMMV was not equipped with the respiratory machines James required. He suggested she take him to Baypointe hospital. But when they got there, Baypointe turned out to be even more expensive, and she needed a total of 12000 pesos for admission. Well, I’m not going to let her son die over a couple of hundred bucks, so I wired more money. And then get this–Baypointe declined to admit him because he had a fever and a cough! WTF! Where are sick people supposed to go if not the hospital? And James had been specifically referred there by a doctor of medicine. So, Bhel was out of options and went back to YMMV. There it was suggested she call an ambulance from Barretto (which made no sense to me) and have him transported to the Gordon emergency room. So, that’s what they did, and Bhel says when they arrived, one of the nurses remembered James from a previous hospitalization (he has heart problems, too) and had taken a liking to him. And lo and behold, he secured a private room, and James was finally admitted twelve hours after the ordeal began.
It is very scary to think about getting seriously ill in this country. All these medical professionals are willing to sacrifice the life of a young boy over non-sensical protocols. I hope James is going to be okay now, but unless and until they find out what is wrong, he is not out of danger.
In more pleasant news, the feeding at Hideaway was a success last night.
Fried chicken, brownies, and lady drinks for Joy.
After Hideaway, I gave Mugshots a try. No bargirls there, but I did flirt with a cute bartender named Odessa. No lady drinks for her (I’m not sure they are even an option), though. I’ll have to add this bar to my rotation for sure.
I finished my night at Wet Spot, where I had a nice chat with owner Daddy Dave.
The Wednesday Walkers took a journey up, on, and over Black Rock yesterday. I love the views from up there, but it is not accessible (for me, anyway) during rainy season because the getting down part is treacherous on slippery rocks. A few straight days of sunshine seemed to be an omen that it was time to visit again.
All in, we did an 8.5K loop, finishing at Harley’s on Baloy for an after-hike lunch. It was a good day on trail!
Hmm, I see now that the “real” name of Black Rock is Mount Panagat. I like Black Rock better and hereby declare that for now and evermore, it shall and will be deemed to be Black Rock mountain. At least here on LTG.Ten in attendance for the trek.Next stop, Subic.Highway marchersThe streets of Santa Monica are much more pleasant than a traffic-congested highway.Anne and Sheila bringing up the rear.The view from a small park in the subdivision. What a minute, I recognize that mountain!Exiting Santa Monica into the adjacent subdivision, Sierra Hills.A brief jaunt on Govic highway.A high-five after a cookie delivery.Alright, let’s go to Black Rock!Let the climbing begin!Almost to the topThe view is worth the climb.Looking back towards BarrettoThe gang’s all here!That’s a quick way down. The fall doesn’t kill you; it’s the sudden stop at the end.You can see Alta Vista from up top Black Rock. I zoomed in to capture my future blue house.Time to head back down.Watch your step! It’s a steep motherfucker.At the bottom, waiting for the stragglers to arrive.Here comes one now.The heights from which we descended.On the backstreets of Calapacuan.Heading back towards our neck of the woods.A niche on the hill.Hey, I know you!Main Street Santo Tomas.Lunch at Harley’sThe view from our table.The view of our tableAnd the view of my lunch. I went with the pork chops.
You can Relive the adventure here if you’d like:
https://www.relive.cc/view/vQvxpV7WW9v
I’ll be doing another post later today about the sad and exciting times here in my little town.
I’m giving myself a break from the game of paying for bargirl company. Turns out I’m not that good a player, and I start taking the whole fantasy a little too seriously. The recent incident with Agnes was a wake-up call. She was merely playing the game to her advantage, and I took the bait. So, I’ll just concede defeat and move on. For a while, anyway.
To the extent there’s a void to be filled, I’ll explore new venues where I’m not well-known to the girls and drink alone. That’s not to say I’ll never go back to my old haunts, but I’ll be upfront about the days of plying my favorites with lady drinks being over. Okay, I’m making an exception regarding Joy at Hideaway. That’s always been a different kind of relationship, and I’ve come to enjoy the bi-weekly feeding sessions. Why should I deny myself that pleasure?
I also think that perhaps I’ll take up darts again. It’s a safe and comfortable way to pass the time and will keep me entertained without a young Filipina by my side. I will need to practice and get my game back before I play in a competitive tournament. I think Johansson’s might be the place to go–nice boards, no bargirls, and rarely crowded. Stay tuned.
So, about last night. I decided to walk to the far side of town and have some dinner at John’s place. I went up to the third-floor bar and took a seat with a view.
I watched the sun go down.And I enjoyed a fantastic pulled pork sandwich. And those fries were great too. Reminded me of the way McDonald’s fries USED to be–hot and firm.And here’s a shot of the Kalaklan ridge…been a while since we’ve hiked up there. Time to make a plan to do so!
I enjoyed a couple of beers with my meal, too. So, where to go next? I considered Mugshots but walked on by. I’m taking a break from IDM for now. Started to go to Cheap Charlies and changed my mind; not ready for those gals again either. I prefer an outdoor bar, and BarCelona was just about my last option, so that’s where I wound up.
I’ve never seen it so dead before. Usually, there are people playing pool, at least, but not last night. No one at the bar inside either. One guy seated at an outside table surrounded by bargirls–heh, me in a previous life! I sat alone at a table by the railing.
It was getting dark, but I could still see a bit of the bay between the two hotels.And a highway shot.
Even with only the big spender around, I had to get up to find someone to bring me another beer. It seems the service in BarCelona is always slow to non-existent. Too bad, really, because it is a very nice venue otherwise.
And then another customer arrived, and it turned out to be someone I’m acquainted with from the days I used to hang out at Snackbar, Marvin. Fascinating guy who regaled me with stories about his exploits as both a businessman and a treasure hunter in the Philippines. Yes, people are still looking for Yamashita’s gold, and Marvin’s a mining engineer by trade. Anyway, it was a much more satisfying conversation than I’ve ever had with a bargirl.
When it was time to go, I headed to Queen Victoria to use the last of my 500 peso voucher coupon. They also weren’t busy, but the bargirls there pretty much ignored me as well. TinTin did say hello but didn’t attempt to entice me to buy her a lady drink. Well, that’s okay. It gave me time to think about my new plan for a solitary bar life.
I’m happy to report I survived another trail by the notorious Hare, Vienna Sausage. Weirdly, the “sane” group I was with was in sync with Vienna’s thinking, and thus we were able to avoid the worst of what he had planned to put us through.
A challenging and steep climb in the beginning, which for me, is better than at the end when my energy stores are depleted. Still, this up had me huffing and puffing, and when we were finally near the top, the trail turned back DOWN the mountain. Fuck that. We looked around for an alternative route and saw a trail had been blocked off with a bamboo stick. Hmm. Easy enough to remove the blockage and continue on to the summit. And surprise, surprise, after a very short walk on the alternative path, we found ourselves back on the Hare’s marked trail. As we suspected, that downhill was just a diversion to make things harder than they needed to be.
The same thing happened a couple more times during the hike–we’d see the marked trail divert in a way we didn’t like, so we went our own way, and before long, we’d be back on the Hare’s trail again. Near the end, we found our own way back down and took an alternative route back to the On-Home at the VFW. So, it actually worked out well. We did the “best” parts of the trail and let the die-hards have their fun on the rest of it. Win-Win!
The yellow is the Hare’s path, the purple our deviations. Despite our shortcuts, we still walked most of the intended trail, albeit some of it in reverse.Gathering up at the VFW.And we are On-On!The hard climb came early.Steep it was.Once the steps gave way, the going got more challenging.Even the diagonal switchbacks were a challenge.18-Kilo Ass kept plugging away until he reached the top.Look out! That’s a Bum Burglar in the grass! A view from near the top.Hashers on grass.One of my favorite vistas.A fine day to be up in the hills.ISD had a lost look on his face, but we kept guessing right.And we had Easter mountain to guide us.So, we started downwards, and then the trail turned back up, and the old-timers said he was taking the creekbed route. Nope, not for us! We continued going straight.And I almost burst out laughing when I saw Vienna’s last-ditch effort to dissuade us. I guess he was in sync with our thinking too.One last mountain view.Our path led us down into Marian Hills.Then we circled back around, climbed to Alta Vista, and then On-Home to VFW.A gathering of Harriettes.And some Harriers.Circle up! It’s nice on ice!Our newest named Hasher, Brazilian-69. Apparently, she fessed up to having recently had one of those wax jobs “down there,” and her boyfriend is named Covid-69. May they share many happy Hashes together!It was also Brazilian-69’s birthday, so of course, we made her a cake.And Pubic Head was awarded the Hashit. Again.
After the Hash circle was concluded, some of the group moved to It Doesn’t Matter to drink a little more. As usual, I was buying lady drinks for my favorite, Agnes, and then something weird happened–she disappeared with a full bottle of beer I’d just bought her (200 pesos!) left sitting untouched. Okay, she’s a waitress, and it was busy with all us Hashers there, so I assumed she was taking care of customers. But when she didn’t return after several minutes, I knew something must be up. It was.
It turns out Agnes wasn’t performing waitress duties, or at least I’ve never had a waitress do what I observed her doing. She was standing in the middle of the crowded room with a man in motorcycle club attire. Well, standing ain’t quite the right descriptor–she was kissing him. Eh, I mean deep tongue kissing. And he had his hands all over her. I had never seen such a blatant PDA in any Barretto bar before. I still would have found it offensive if they were an old married couple. I’m surprised no one shouted, “get a room, for chrissakes!”
That’s me in the “nice on ice” shirt, and I’ve circled the “loving” couple above. No one in the crowded room seems to be bothered by their shenanigans. So, why should I have been?
I’ll tell you why. To begin, I purchased her a drink which comes with an obligation to drink it with the customer who bought it. If she wanted to go be all kissy-face with the biker dude, she should have just declined my drink offer. Or if she had said, “I’m sorry, John, but a friend of mine is here, and I need to see him.” I would have told her fine, take your beer and go. But to just disappear was extremely rude.
The other bothersome aspect for me was being so totally wrong about someone. Now, Agnes isn’t the typical bargirl. She’s 38 and has four kids. But I have enjoyed her company for several months now, and I always saw her as a hard-working mother doing the best for her kids. She told me she didn’t have a boyfriend. I don’t know if that was a lie or if I was witnessing love at first sight with this guy. There is no question those were passionate kisses, and she was an equal and willing participant, even when he was rubbing her tits. I was having a hard time believing my eyes, and I was disgusted with my failure to see the true nature of her character.
In retrospect, I don’t know why I should have been surprised. My previous IDM favorite waitress turned out to be a lesbian, unbeknownst to me. Heh, I guess I’m just easily fooled. Oh well, time to find a new favorite again.
Switching gears, I think this explains why my blog is not very popular (less than 200 daily readers this week):
Only the best and brightest read LTG! I can live with that.
And I didn’t know what to make of this ad that appeared on my Facebook newsfeed today:
It was for some “performance enhancing” tablets. But why would the algorithm target me?
At first, I thought they were commenting on the color of my eyes; it sounds a lot like “blue,” if blue had two syllables. Why the girls call me crazy is a mystery. Kind of.
Anyway, things didn’t get too crazy last night. Fed the Hideaway girls pizza, and for dessert, I baked up a batch of cupcakes.
Joy appears to have enjoyed the meal.
I stayed a little longer at Hideaway than usual (I think Joy had four lady drinks instead of the usual three), but I always start craving a change of venue, so I headed up the highway.
A nice enough end to the day.
I spent the early hours of darkness at The Green Room, where I had TWO coupons from the SOB to expend: “buy a lady drink and get two customer drinks” and the usual “buy one, get one” bargain. I also had dinner delivered from Sit-n-Bull– a most excellent burrito. A pleasant enough evening, then I was home shortly after 8:00.
For breakfast this morning, I did some leftovers from yesterday’s baking exploits:
Cupcakes and oatmeal raisin cookies.But it ain’t breakfast without bacon, right?
This is Hash Monday, so I didn’t want to expend my limited quantity of energy on a long morning walk, but I did take a stroll through the neighborhood. My future residence was on my mind, so I took some photos from various perspectives.
As seen from the low road.A zoom shot from the low road. The master bedroom is on the second floor. That construction on the ground floor will be another bedroom that I’ll use as quarters for my helper.From the far end of the low road.The back of the house.A zoom shot of the backside (ass?) of the house. Living room, kitchen, and dining area on the ground floor. Two bedrooms/two baths upstairs.On approach from the high road.The cul-de-sac view. Huge fenced yard and grand vistas all around.Here’s an example of what I’ll be seeing after the move.
Yep, this post was even lamer than usual. But on the bright side, future posts will seem more thrilling by comparison. Guenther is the Hare today, and I expect the usual life-threatening excitement. I will see how far I get before the inevitable bailing out.
Nothing much, just more of the same. Luckily, my same ain’t so bad. Long walks and cold beer, does it get any better than that?
I did a bit of a Saturday night bar crawl, including a surprise visit to Hideaway. It’s funny; showing up outside of my Wednesday/Sunday schedule threw everyone for a loop. Maybe because I snuck in through the back door, but still. I was there as a customer only; I’ll do my feeding duties tonight.
I stopped by Mugshots, the new bar in town, and had a beer outside. Traffic noise was loud but watching the passerby, especially the females, made it more enjoyable. I was surprised when the waitress brought me out a free appetizer to sample. Nice touch; I’ll be back for more soon.
Then I was off to It Doesn’t Matter. My favorite, Agnes, wasn’t working, but Maria was a fine stand-in. While I was there, I heard from my friend, Julie, who suggested we get together for dinner. Sure, why not? Let’s go to John’s place.
John has a Saturday night steak special. This New Zealand ribeye was only 695 pesos. I could only eat 300 pesos worth, though. I’m just spoiled on American beef, I suppose. This ribeye wasn’t tough; it was chewy. Also, I said I wanted it medium rare, but it seemed closer to rare than medium. The first meal I had there that was not completely satisfactory. Hey, nobody’s perfect! The boys at home enjoyed the leftovers.
Julie surprised me by repaying some money she had borrowed a couple of months ago. That’s a rare event here. Especially because she is currently between jobs, but she was insistent I take the cash. I told her by this act, she was now eligible for a future loan should the need arise. In case you are curious, I crushed on Julie at one time, but the feelings were not reciprocated. I first met her when she used to hike with the group, and now that she is unemployed, she says she intends to join us again. And Julie is not like other women I have met here: forty years old, no kids, and never worked in a bar. No wonder she doesn’t love me!
Julie went home after dinner, and I finished my night at Queen Victoria.
Some Sunday morning blueberry muffins to start my day.
And then it was time to do my SSS–solitary Sunday stroll.
It looked something like this. I made great time but wimped out at the end and took a trike back up the hill to Alta Vista.Let’s do this!The grass is high, but I’m holding on…The old goat road.Across bridge #3Entering purok 3 in San Isidro. Does any recognize that mountain in the background?I know that one–Black Rock.A bloomin’ fine day for a hike.Market street in Calapacuan.And the rest of the way back via the National Highway.
Relive it here if you would like:
https://www.relive.cc/view/vYvE3ykVyw6
Ah shit, now I’m having water pressure issues at the house again. I really need to move.
Our Friday hiking group got off the streets and into the hills for the first time in quite some time. Better yet, we took a trail that we hadn’t tried in a long time, so it all felt fresh. Of course, if we haven’t walked a particular path with any frequency, there’s usually a reason for that. Yesterday’s trek featured a tough steep climb and some muddy spots, but it was nice to get some elevation again. More on that and the photos later in this post.
Of course, it being Friday night meant spending the time at the SOB. Last night’s event was held at the Alaska Club, and the place was packed. More of a party vibe than usual, with a loud and raucous crowd enjoying the show and the free-flowing alcohol.
My hiking buddy Todd and his girlfriend Shiela shared my table, and it was nice to have some company I didn’t have to purchase for a change. Still, when Joy finished her dance routine with the Alaska team, I rewarded her with some lady drinks.
Shiela also did her first-ever blow job last night, and I’ve got a picture!
She seemed to really enjoy it, too!
I’m still waiting for the sponsor to post pictures of the contest last night, and I’ll update here when they are available. In the meantime, here’s a video of the Alaska Club performance from last week. (Scroll ahead to the 2:00 minute mark to avoid having to sit through the prep work for their routine.)
They were this week’s champions.
UPDATE: Here are the pics:
After the SOB, I attended the Aftermath gathering at Wet Spot. More drinking and more coupons to expend during the coming days. What a life, huh?
I left the bar at 10:00, which is late for me, but I made it home in one piece and apparently did nothing to embarrass myself prior to my departure. I’ll call that a win.
Well, there was one thing that happened that I’m a little embarrassed about. I got a phone message which is very rare for me, so rare in fact that I seldom check my phone. Most people contact me via Facebook messenger. Anyway, the message said:
“Hi John, good morning this is Sheryll”
Okay, well, I know a couple of gals named Sheryll and just assumed it was the one from our hiking group. So, I responded, Hello, what’s up?
The response was:
“Hi John, can we meet up sometime?”
Wait a minute! The Sheryll I was thinking of is married and would never ask me to meet her. So, now I’m trying to figure out just who in the hell I’m messaging. I couldn’t recall giving any of the random females I know my phone number; I just don’t do that. After wracking my brain for a bit, I messaged, I’m sorry, can you tell me how we met?
“Hi John, this is Sheryll, the owner of the house in Alta Vista.”
Oh, shit. My future landlord! Anyway, she didn’t seem to take offense at my Biden-like conduct. She wanted to set up a meeting to discuss the future rental agreement. So, I arranged to meet her this morning at her nearby office (she owns a construction company with her husband).
I took this photo shortly after leaving my current residence this morning. That little blue house amongst the mansions there in the distance is where I hope to make my future home.
Anyway, the meeting was just to get more details about what I want and need to have her leave furniture-wise and to reiterate some of the points we had discussed at our initial meeting. I also think she wanted to be reassured about the sincerity of my interest. I told her I hoped it would be the last house I ever lived in. Of course, it goes without saying that I plan to live as long as I can.
So, let’s do those hike pictures, shall we?
The path we took.
“
Our group shot.Heading out.Heading up.Looking back from whence we came.And then the hard climbing commenced.Rest stop.Martin plugging away.Onward and upward.And then things began to level out a bit.Through the tall thatch grass.A fixer-upper near the top, but the commute would be a killer.Scott bringing up the rear.The view from this elevation.Don’t ask me.Offloading some cookies.The landscape.A regathering of the group. No man left behind and all that jazz.It’s always amazing to me to encounter people dwelling in the middle of nowhere, and yet there are still connections. This man (on the far left) knew Scott’s gal, Honey.The view from here.This little pig ain’t ready for the market.What are you staring at?A different perspective on Easter mountain.Time to start heading back down.Are you crazy, Stuart? No, but I’mbananasA wing a whack a wing a whack…in the jungle...Happy cookie recipients.Easier going down than up, that’s for sure!The only kind of falls I want on trail.Life’s a dance!Back on the pavement at last.My end of the hike lunch from Sit-n-Bull.This accidental selfie pretty much captures the diminished cognitive awareness I suffer with increasing frequency. Let’s go, Brandon!
Welp, I’m still in the game, so I’m gonna keep on playin’ as best I can. Stick around for the next adventure!
