Putting the cart before the whore

I think this drawing captures what motivates many of the girls to work in the bars.

Let’s talk some about bargirls and their customers. Obviously, not everyone is the same, so much of what I have to say about the bar scene will be generalizations but are based on many years of first-hand observations.

So, let’s start with the roles females fill when employed in a bar:

Waitress: They take and deliver your order. In most establishments, they are permitted to accept a lady drink from a customer and can sit with the customer while they drink it, although they may be required to wait on other customers at the same time.

Guest Relations Officer (GRO): These gals are hired to sit and drink with customers during their visit to the bar as long as the customer is buying them lady drinks.

Bartenders: They fill the drink orders and usually accept a lady drink, although they typically have to stay behind the bar and continue performing their duties.

Dancers: They entertain customers from a stage and are available to provide company to customers who purchase them a lady drink.

And a couple of other relevant definitions:

Lady drink: A customer purchased drink from which the female employee earns a commission. A single lady drink is served in a cocktail glass and may or may not contain any actual alcohol. Prices vary, but in Barretto a single lady drink is around 180 pesos, and the commission paid to the bargirl is around 80 pesos. A bottled lady drink is called a double and in most bars costs 300 pesos and the recipient earns a higher commission. I personally will not spend more than 200 pesos for lady drink.

Early Work Release (EWR)/Barfine: This is the price you pay to take a girl out of the bar before her shift has ended. Many bars have gone to the EWR model to avoid being accused of promoting prostitution, which is illegal in the Philippines. The way an EWR works is the bargirl and the customer negotiate a price for “take out.” The gal will arrange a “short time” price (a couple of hours) or a “long time” overnight price. It’s been quite some time since I’ve paid a girl to leave the bar with me, but I understand the going rate these days is in the 3000-5000 peso range. When the girl returns to duty, she pays the bar a penalty for leaving work early, which I understand is usually 1000 pesos. Anything taking place outside of the bar is between two consenting adults. A barfine is essentially the same thing, except the customer pays a set fee to the bar directly to take the girl out, and the girl is given a commission when she returns to duty.

So, that’s the system; whether you as a customer participate is entirely up to you. I’d say 50% or less play the lady drink game in the bars I frequent. Depending on my mood, I tend to buy lady drinks for my favorites, as often as not. What do I get for my money? Some chat, some joking around, and the satisfaction that comes with the knowledge that those lady commissions can make a big difference to a girl struggling to make ends meet. That’s why I sometimes think of it as an act of charity, although I acknowledge it doesn’t really meet that definition. The girl is just doing her job for that money, and it is earned, not gifted. I sometimes buy the drinks even when I’d be just as happy without the company. That’s just how I roll.

So, what’s the attraction? Yes, some of the girls can be aggressive and mercenary, and those tactics just don’t work for me. I don’t like being asked for a lady drink, I prefer to offer. My standard method is to sit down and order a beer. If the waitress is friendly and engages in chat while I enjoy my beer, I tend to get a drink for her when I order my second beer. Then we go from there, but usually I do two beers for every lady drink I buy. And what do I get for that money? Nothing, really. Some girls are better than others at engaging in conversation, but usually it’s all very much meaningless small talk. Then why do I play the game? Because I can. In most of the bars I frequent, my regulars know me, greet me, and take good care of me during my visit. Perhaps it is all pretending and fake, but I get to enjoy myself for a few dollars. Bottom line, it is worth it to me and makes the girls happy. I’d call that a win-win.

My first exposure to the bargirl culture was when I moved to Korea in 2005. That first weekend, I was exploring the streets of Itaewon in the afternoon. I needed to pee and saw a bar was open (I can’t remember the name now, and it is long gone), so I went in and used the toilet, then ordered a beer. As I was sitting at the bar, a young Korean woman came and sat next to me, and we started chatting. She was very friendly and was telling me about all the things I could see and do in Korea. Naturally, I offered her a drink when I ordered another beer. And we sat there and talked and drank for a couple of hours. When it was time for me to depart, I got my bill and almost fainted when I saw the bottom line: 300,000 Won ($300.) The sweet young lady sitting beside me was enjoying beverages costing 20,000 Won each! I had never heard of a lady drink until that day. That was the first and last time I bought a twenty-dollar drink.

I was still living in Seoul in 2009 when I did a post here about juicy bars and prostitution in Korea. I had a couple of tourist visits to the Philippines by then, so I could compare and contrast aspects of the bar scene in both countries. At that time, lots of Filipinas were being imported to Korea to work the bars near the Army bases. I tried to answer the question of whether they were being trafficked or otherwise exploited. Give it a read if you are so inclined.

That’s Sheryl; my first ever barfine back in 2008 during a visit to Angeles City.

My style in those days was to take my barfine out to dinner and shopping, going for what was called a GFE–girlfriend experience. The hard core mongers would take the girls from the bar straight to the hotel, do the dirty deed, then send them on their way. One guy told me, “I don’t pay the girls for sex; I pay them to leave in the morning.” That approach never appealed to me, and the mongers called people like me “Captain Saveaho.” Anyway, I’m having dinner with Sheryl on one of our “dates” and she out of the blue said, “I hate my father.” I asked her why and she told me he had abandoned the family and it was up to her to support her brothers and sisters doing a job she hated. The “whore” pulling the cart at the beginning of this post reminds me of Sheryl’s story. In her case, the story had a happy ending. I helped her with tuition to earn her caregiver license. She graduated, left the bar life behind, and married an Australian. You can read more of her story here with photos from my best ever day as a tourist in the Philippines.

I’m retelling the story of Sheryl to make the broader point about bargirls. Most of the ones I’ve met are doing the job they do because it pays the bills and helps put food on the table. There are good girls and bad girls in the bars, but by and large, they are desperate young women doing they best they can. I don’t judge them and don’t mind helping them out via drink commissions when I visit the bars. I’m not pretending it is anything more than that, but being treated rudely or disrespectfully is a surefire way to close my wallet.

In my opinion, the bargirls are not necessarily being exploited, although I think their compensation is unfair. No one is forcing them to take a job in the bar, but there are no other options for many. A waitress/GRO earns 200-300 pesos daily ($4-$6) plus tips and drink commissions. Many bars have drink quotas, and failure to get enough lady drinks results in a reduction in an already paltry salary. I don’t pretend to be changing the world for them when I throw a lady drink or two their way, but it is better than nothing. In keeping with my selfish nature, it makes me feel good to help them earn a little extra money. If my doing so perpetuates a cycle of poverty, then shame on me. I just don’t see it that way.

Good thing it doesn’t end with an “e”…

Up on Cripple Creek

Looking back, I’ve been relatively lucky in life when it comes to health issues. In 68 years, I’ve only once been previously confined to a hospital. That was a nightmarish three days in Korea trying to cure some virus I picked up as a tourist in the Philippines. I shared a room with three other loud folks in Korea; at least this time, I had a room to myself. It was still a miserable experience, though.

The ordeal began with a no food or drinks after midnight mandate. And then I got to witness up close and personal the quirky methods employed at what is reputed to be one of the area’s better hospitals. My doctor told me to go to the emergency room at 0830 to secure admittance. Once there, I was taken to a curtained room in the ER and set up with an intravenous tube so a variety of drugs could be fed into my body.

That didn’t hurt much.
A water-like substance sharing space with my blood.

And then I sat in that curtained room for an hour or so before someone put me in a wheelchair and transported me to the third floor, wear my hospital room awaited.

I’ve had worse hotel rooms
And I had a decent view from the room.
And I also had Swan and my caregiver, Teri there to provide assistance and comfort.

Once I was settled into the room, a nurse came by to advise the surgery was scheduled for 12:30. Why in the hell was I directed to check in three hours in advance of the operation? I was hungry and cranky but powerless to do anything but submit to the Filipino way.

Around noon, the anesthesiologist came by the room to introduce himself and ask a few questions to ensure he administered the correct amount of knockout juice. I told him I had no allergies but that I was concerned about the COPD. He assured me he would closely monitor my blood oxygen levels throughout the procedure. He laughed and said when he found out his patient was an American, he assumed I’d be morbidly obese. It is a compliment that he did not consider me to be that fat.

At the appointed hour, I was transported by wheelchair to the operating room and then put on a bed for the procedure to be performed. I remember the inhalation mask being put over my mouth, being told to breathe deep, and then nothing else until I awoke two hours later in the recovery room. Of course, the waking up part was the critical thing.

I don’t remember this, but I was told that when I first started waking from the drug-induced slumber, I went a little crazy and started screaming to let me out of her. I heard when I climbed out of bed, I fell against the wall, and three or four attendants had to drag me back to the bed. I guess I went back to sleep after that.

My post-op appearance.

So, it’s been 24 hours since the surgery, and my nostrils are still oozing blood. The ENT says this is normal, and I have an appointment with her on Tuesday to remove those plugs she inserted where the polyps used to live.

I have felt like shit since the surgery. The nostrils don’t hurt, but wiping the blood off my lip every few minutes is a pain. I couldn’t sleep last night, which only added to the misery. My head hurts, I’m lethargic (more than usual), and my brain feels fuzzy (also more than usual). Still, after a year of clogged sinuses, the road to recovery will lead me to some better places. Here’s hoping!

And thanks to you, my readers, for your words of support and encouragement.

I dodged that bullet this time…

The last day…

…before this one was a good one. Here’s hoping the trend continues!

Yesterday featured a nice hike to start the day (pictures to follow) and finished with an SOB. Swan joined me for that event, and we had a good time.

Today is the day I go to the hospital. I’m not in a hurry, but I am fasting. Yeah, I can’t eat or drink until after the surgery. It will be good to get this over with—the operation, I mean. I joke, but I am feeling confident all will go well. Just want to get back to normal as soon as possible.

I decided not to write an obituary as a scheduled post. Blame it on laziness. I did find this old post, The end of the road, written on the eve of my first retirement back in 2010, that hits the highlights of my life up to then.

I plan to bring my laptop to the hospital with me so I can post some updates on my status from there. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow, it’s been nice knowing you!

Here are the photos from yesterday’s hike:

We met up at the 7/11 on Baloy Road. That new McDonald’s building is going up surprisingly fast. Is there a Big Mac in my future? And who’s that woman with the umbrella?
Hello, mama! Good to see you again. Here’s a hundred pesos; go have breakfast.
The path we walked from Subic town back to Calapadayan, around 5K with one hill.
Our band of six hikers–me, Jim, Todd, and Sheila. Scott’s behind the camera, and we are waiting for Brian to arrive.
Off we go
I was going to call this post “Seven Bridges Road,” but it’s been used already.
There was a bit of a traffic jam on this one. The situation was resolved when the trike stopped, and Todd and Sheila squeezed past.
The beginning of the first hill I’d attempted in a long time. It was an ass-kicker.
Scott got this shot of the locals mocking me as I ascended. Okay, maybe that was just my imagination.
On up!
Still going
Made it!
It is not unusual to encounter a cock along the way.
Lots of cookie recipients yesterday. That smile makes it all worthwhile.
Hello neighbor!
What goes up must come down.
Another bridge crossing
What used to be a pond
And what still is
You can bank on it!
A dicey crossing
Through the fields we go
I’m told that used to be some type of amusement park.
More satisfied cookie customers
You up for another bridge, Scott?
Water view
‘Tis the season
Movin’ on
I swear it wasn’t me! There must be some other John Mark around here.

Looking forward to breathing easier on my next hike!

Keep ’em coming!

Rock me on the water

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, we underwent a scheduled brownout yesterday, which meant no electricity from 8 until 5. I filled a couple of those hours with an 8K hike.

My standard solo Thursday walk through Naugsol valley, San Isidro, Santo Tomas, and back to Barretto.

My hike ended at Sit-n-Bull, and I had an early air-conditioned lunch.

The BBQ ham sandwich was one of the daily specials, so I went with that and a side of slaw.

I went home and took care of some business (blogging, etc.), but by one o’clock, I faced a dilemma. Without electricity, my only means of escape was my laptop. And it was there that I came upon a post on Facebook announcing the soft opening of the Arizona floating bar at noon. I pride myself on waiting for beer o’clock (around 4 p.m.) to arrive before I begin imbibing. But faced with the prospect of sitting in the hot and uncomfortable house for three hours with nothing to do (the laptop battery was almost out of juice), I was powerless to resist the urge to escape to the breezy waters of Subic Bay.

The Arizona Resort is at the far end of Barretto (Hideaway Bar is next door) but that’s no further away than the Kokomo’s floating bar on Baloy. The power outage was also impacting Baloy, so that wasn’t an option anyway.

This painting is on the wall in front of Arizona. I was struck by the coincidence of visiting the Arizona floater on the anniversary of the ship’s sinking.
The new Arizona floating bar. The old one was much larger (two floors) but was heavily damaged by a storm in 2019. It is good to have two floating bars again (there used to be three, but Blue Rock does not appear to be interested in getting back in the game).

So, I arrived on the beach at 1:30, but it seemed like my transport options to the floater were limited.

The raft to get there was under repairs. I felt a little guilty about interrupting the work, but when I said I needed a lift, they put away the tools and prepared to launch. I did at least help to push the raft back into the bay.

I was the first customer of the day when I boarded and was besieged with offers for a massage, but I declined them all. I ordered up my first Zero of the day and soaked up the views and ambiance that come with rocking on the water. And this floater did have a more pronounced movement than the Kokomo’s does. Maybe the water is deeper here.

Baloy Beach is on the other side of that peninsula. It’s the same bay but the perspectives seemed unique from this vantage point.
Barretto Beach
The Arizona Resort
Other guests began arriving as the afternoon progressed, including a couple of tables of big spenders.

I define big spenders as guys who table several girls and purchase multiple double lady drinks (bottles at 300 pesos each) for the girls. I’m sure the girls appreciate it, and if the guys are having fun that way, rock on! I, on the other hand, was buying single lady drinks for my waitress, but she did get several during my first couple of hours on board. And then something weird happened; at least, it was something I hadn’t previously experienced. I guess I wasn’t quick enough to refill her glass (I usually buy a lady drink when I order another beer), so she picked up her empty, wiped off the bar, and walked away without a word, not even a nice to meet you or a thank you. I smiled to myself later as I watched her flit around the big spender’s tables, scoring a drink for herself when they bought another round. It’s impressive how good she is at her job. But of course, I’ll never buy her another drink, not that she cares.

I had asked my caregiver to message Dr. Jo to tell her of my upcoming surgery and to ask if she had any advice. Dr. Jo responded:

Here are our words of advice: 1. Stay away from the bars for now; there’s a virus going around, safer not to catch it. 2. Limit alcohol intake 3. Eat healthy 4. Maybe don’t hike or do anything strenuous 5. Pray, meditate, and think positive🙏 Good luck! You’ll feel better after the procedure….looking forward to it 😁

So, in other words, I’m going to die. I ordered up another beer and watched the sun go down.

“Don’t let the sun go down on me…
…Although I search myself, it’s always someone else I see
…I’d just allow a fragment of your life to wander free
…But losing everything is like the sun going down on me

Swan had been busy taking care of business at her sister’s school in Subic, but she messaged me around 4:30 and I invited her to join me on the floater.

You can’t tell I’ve been drinking for almost four hours, can you?

But the fun wasn’t over yet. I figured putting some grub in my belly was an appropriate next step, and with the sun down and darkness surrounding us, it was a good time to abandon ship. John’s place was nearby by, so off we went.

I’d been craving a pulled pork sandwich. Swan had one, too. We were not disappointed.

I was pleasantly surprised when Swan suggested Wet Spot for the nightcap venue. It turns out that during our previous visit, Aine had told Swan she wasn’t feeling well, and Swan wanted to deliver some medicine to her. A glass of wine for Swan, two lady drinks, and a couple of beers later, we called it a night.

I was in bed before nine again but woke up at midnight. “Here we go again” I thought, but thankfully, I was able to fall asleep a short time later and finished with seven hours on the night.

And I awoke to another beautiful morning in the neighborhood.

A nice group hike in Subic town this morning, and the SOB is on tap for later this evening. Might as well live as if there is no tomorrow, right? I’ll find out soon enough!

Yep, I can’t avoid going under the knife any longer, either.

Bussed

The Wednesday Walkers took a bus out to Castillejos and enjoyed a sweet 7K hike in an area I hadn’t seen before for the most part.

On the bus…
…off the bus.

A 15K journey that took thirty minutes in relative comfort (compared to a Jeepney).

Four of us made the trek yesterday
We had no proper business in Catillejos, so we took the Govic Highway.
The Govic is thataway. And by golly, there is a Four Square Church. I was raised in one of those, but the indoctrination didn’t take. I’ll never forget the symphony when the congregation started speaking in tongues.
Let the journey begin!
Jim, Scott, and Erik bringing up the rear
An attractive tree
I understand that was housing for the workers at the now defunct Hanjin shipyard.
Out in the countryside seeing things I’ve never seen before. I like it!
My offer of cookies was rejected.
The view from here.
The old dirt road
A river runs through it.
That place must get uncomfortable during rainy season
The owner of Johansson’s in Barretto lives here.
This blog is all about me blowing my horn.
Riding the bus back to Barretto after our hike.
The path we walked
My walk stats

Back home, Swan showed me a picture of a visitor we had downstairs.

Never seen one of those before. Hopefully, it eats snakes.
The sky reminding me that it is beer o’clock.

I did the Hideaway feeding featuring pizza and a roast chicken. I passed along the news that the Sunday feeding likely wouldn’t happen this week.

I went to Annex Bar for my next beer and Swan joined me there after her church service. Annex couldn’t provide the requested glass of red wine for Swan, so we took our business to Oasis. When it was time for the nightcap, Swan was down with going to Wet Spot, and she seemed to have a good time with her friend Aine. I brought home some Sit-n-Bull pecan pies for dessert.

I was in bed before nine, and lo and behold, I had the best night’s sleep I can recall.

I’m good with five hours so that extra bonus was a blessing.

And one of my better days getting in the steps as well.

We are having an all day brownout today. That means a hot house, a cold shower, and a low battery on my laptop. Best I get this posted while I can!

Today is that day of infamy that happened in 1941. Coincidentally, the Arizona floating bar is having its soft opening today. I’m going to take advantage of the opportunity to escape this hothouse and start drinking earlier than usual today.

I also figured out how to do a scheduled post, so I’ll need to get busy on my just-in-case obituary. More to come tomorrow!

Seems plausible.

The final countdown?

I was up early yesterday morning to travel to San Marcelino for a doctor’s appointment with the ENT who will perform the nasal polypectomy. She reviewed the clearance documents from the cardiologist and pulmonary physician and said we were good to go forward with the surgery. She suggested I check into Baypointe Hospital on Friday; she would operate on Saturday, and if all goes well, I could be released on Monday. I responded there was no way I was staying confined to the hospital for that long and reminded her that when we first discussed the procedure, I was going to be admitted on a Sunday and released on Monday. She backed off and said the minimum period for post-op observation was twenty-four hours, and unless I was bleeding or had other difficulties, I could be released the following day. I’ve subsequently read up on the procedure (see link above), and at least in the USA, it is an outpatient operation with no hospitalization required.

So, I will be checking into Baypointe on Saturday morning and having the surgery performed that day. I expect to be set free on Sunday. I’ve been quoted a price of 150,000 pesos ($3000), which covers all expenses associated with the surgery. I’ve been suffering from blocked sinuses for a year now and have had four different doctors say that the only fix was the polypectomy. I’ve resisted getting this done, not because I’m afraid of the operation, but instead, I fear being put under general anesthesia and never waking up again because of my COPD. The surgeon is aware of my lung condition and assures me the anesthesiologist will closely monitor my oxygen levels during the procedure. So, I’m trusting my life that that will be the case. I guess in the worst-case scenario, dying blissfully ignorant in your sleep is not a bad way to go when your time on earth is over. I hope mine isn’t, but there’s only one way to find out.

After the doctor’s visit, we drove back to SBMA and did the weekly grocery shopping. I confess that I passed on some items, telling myself I’d wait and see if I still need them next week. Yeah, I know that’s stupid negative thinking, but sometimes I just can’t help myself.

When beer o’clock rolled around, I headed into town. I decided to skip my regular Tuesday floating bar visit and spend the evening in Barretto instead.

On the way out of the neighborhood, I saw a new road being constructed. This will connect to my old street, Shenandoah Bend, and provide access to several additional lots for construction. It would have made my walk home shorter and less steep as well, but it’s too late now.

Sloppy Joe’s is the first bar I pass on my journey to Barretto, and my pal Chris and his gal Shie waved for me to join them.

We each bought a round of drinks, chatted and joked around, and Chris played some old Beatles tunes on the music machine (it just occurred to me that YouTube videos are the modern jukebox).
There was some additional excitement when our phones blew up with messages saying, “Did you feel the quake? None of us at Sloppy Joe’s did. The epicenter was about 100 kilometers south of us.

I didn’t really have a plan for the evening, but I could see Cheap Charlies in the distance and figured I’d visit there next. But once I was out front, I saw the bar was full of RSL members (the Australian equivalent to the VFW), so I decided to continue up the highway. I hadn’t been to Blue Butterfly for a while, so I rectified that neglect.

I had a batch of brownies with me, and the three girls serving the outside area at BB were clamoring for a taste. I told them that’s what they were for and bought a drink for each to wash them down. Soon enough, the inside gals came out for a brownie, too (no drinks for them, though), and everyone seemed to enjoy them. I cracked my usual lame joke about brownies for brown knees, and they politely laughed. It was an enjoyable visit, and they reminded me that the Hash On-Home would be there this Monday. Hmm, I’d forgotten about that. I don’t expect I’ll be up for a Hash hike, but hopefully, I’ll be sufficiently recovered to come to the Hash Circle. We shall see.

I popped into It Doesn’t Matter next. It was dead, so I had one beer and left. I tried Green Room, and it was too crowded for my tastes, so I settled into Wet Spot and ordered a beer. Neither of my regulars was working, and manager Brett was off too, so I got bored and went to Alaska for my nightcap. I had a nice time there and actually enjoyed the show one of the dancers put on. No lady drink, but I did give her a 50 peso tip. I got home well before 8 p.m. and made up a batch of smoothies for Swan, my helper, and me.

And for the second night in a row, I had difficulty sleeping. My tracker says I went to sleep at 8:23 and woke again at 9:23. Didn’t fall asleep again until 2:34, then awoke for good at 3:50. Making matters worse, my TV wouldn’t connect to Netflix, so I had to settle for mostly lame YouTube videos to fill the sleepless hours. I guess I should be looking forward to Saturday when I know I’ll be in a drug-induced deep sleep. I still want to wake up early, though!

Despite the lack of sleep, I participated in the Wednesday Walkers group hike this morning, and I’ll be heading out to feed the gals at Hideaway a bit later. Life goes on. Hopefully.

Assuming I survive that long, I’ll be 69 next year. It sounds like a good number to me!

Higher or longer?

Over the hills or around them? That was the choice to be made, and five of us elected to walk a bit further on mostly flat ground rather than go up and over on a steep path. After seeing some photos from the climb, I feel good about my choice.

It was kinda funny when the Hare, Leech My Nuggets, was giving instructions at the start of the run, stated, “There’s only one trail, but if you want to shortcut, just follow Scott or John.” Heh, I’m a famous short cutter, I guess, but the fact of the matter is my chosen path was a LONGcut. Not that it matters.

The Hare’s trail is the orange line. Our longcut is in blue.
Gathering at the start in Subic town
And we are On-On!
Making our way through the backstreets of barangay Magnan-Vaca
A river crossing
And a walk along the banks
A view of the river, such as it is this time of year.
The Hare’s trail turns to the right.
But we non-short cutters are taking the Govic highway.
Yeah, a highway walk isn’t too exciting…
…but at least it avoids this type of insanity on the hill climb.
An Easter Mountain view.
Reconnecting with the Hare’s trail
Things are looking a little shady
Across a dicey bridge
Thankfully, the wall didn’t come tumbling down.
Arriving On-Home at Smokes and Bottles
Two of our oldest Hashers, Fucking Old Man on the left, and Roadwhore on the right, both in their 80s, were in attendance.
The Hashers gather prior to the commencement of the Circle rituals.
I enjoyed an after-hike taco for dinner.
It’s nice on ice.
My stats from the hike. I forgot to turn the app off when I first arrived, so the average pace is wrong. On the trail, I was doing twelve minutes and change kilometers.

I enjoyed the hike, which may be further indication that I have morphed into a flatlander. Well, it beats the alternative of being an underlander, I suppose.

I walked to Snackbar after the Hash but left after one beer because I was unhappy with rap music being played at a high volume. When your customer base is old white guys, you need to do better than that. Did my nightcap at Whiskey Girl, and headed back home.

Here’s one I just know you are going to like:

Okay, maybe not.

Tired of Star Trek joke memes? Here’s a gift for you:

The naughty girls will like them…

That’s all for today. I have some real news to share with y’all tomorrow.

Haggis Bash AAR

As promised, here is a quick after-action report from my weekend in Pozorrubio, participating in the annual Haggis Bash with the La Union Hash House Harriers.

Getting There

The Haggis Bash was held at the farm owned by a La Union Hashers.

I caught a ride to Pozorrubio with my neighbor and fellow Hasher, Simon (Leech My Nuggets). On the trip up, there were seven passengers in Simon’s car, which meant we had a middle rider in the backseat with me, making it cramped and uncomfortable. At a rest stop halfway there, Simon’s wife elected to sit in the rear with two other female passengers, giving me the front seat. Much better!

Arriving at our hotel

Lodging

Mansion proved to be a bit of an overstatement, but as there are only two hotels in Pozorrubio, I guess I can’t complain. Much.
The interior facilities were nice enough, but there was much room for improvement.

I would rate the MGM at two stars. The sad thing is, it has the potential to be much higher rated with better management. There was one of the nicer pools I’ve seen, but it was empty and unmaintained. An outdoor bar and rooftop disco were also closed. My room was similarly in need of attention. I was shocked to discover there was no showerhead in my bathroom, and the thought of standing under a pipe of running water to bathe wasn’t appealing. I found the showerhead lying next to the sink and re-attached it myself. That problem solved; I then discovered there was no hot water. I hate cold showers. No toilet paper either, but I bring my own wet wipes, so no issue there. Two bath towels but no washcloths or hand towels. No WiFi connection. The hallway outside my room was unlit, and I needed to use my phone flashlight to see the keyhole. And they didn’t have housekeeping between day one and day two. All said it was one of the worst hotel experiences I can recall. The room was 2400 ($48.) a night, which was way too much for what I received in return.

The MGM was 8K away from the On-Home farm venue, but luckily, the hotel provided van transportation for only 60 pesos a head. Given the logistics, that proved to be a Godsend.

Pozorrubio

For a city with over 70,000 residents, I was shocked at the lack of services and conveniences (oh, did I spell bars wrong?) Seriously though, there were very few options for dining out or having fun in this town. Nothing at all within walking distance of my hotel. The other hotel in town is more centrally located, but according to the Hashers who stayed there, the only place to gather was an outdoor beer garden. Better than nothing, but no help to me from where I was ensconced. Luckily, I drank my fill at the Hash, so I didn’t need to go out, but damn, I can’t imagine living in a place like this. Barretto may be small, but we have many restaurants, hotels, and bars to patronize. Pozorrubio is not a nice place to visit, and I definitely wouldn’t want to live there.

Friday on the farm

After getting checked in and unpacked, we took the hotel van to the CIJ farm, which is apparently a local icon. At least everyone seemed to know where it was located. It was 5K on the highway and another 3K on backstreets to get there.

A fair number of Hashers (there appeared to be 50 tents or so) chose the camping option. Logistically, that’s the way to go, I suppose, but my camping days are done. Now, give me an RV, and I might reconsider.

There was a short 4K Hash trail scheduled to begin at 2:30. It was mostly through farm country and blessedly flat. It was a very pleasant hike and I enjoyed seeing some new vistas.

Guidance from the Hare prior to starting
On-On!
A Hash bag and some goodies came with the cost of admission
And it included a new Hash shirt.
The back of said shirt
That’s me at the Friday circle
The Subic contingent is recognized and welcomed to the Bash.

In keeping with Hash custom, multiple beers were consumed with the added treat of some “Scottish stew” to keep the hunger pangs at bay. Someone called the hotel van and left on the early ride around 7 p.m. A good Day 1 at the Haggis Bash.

Sunday’s marathon

Sunday’s trail began at 9:30 in the morning. I opted for the 6K version, and it was a good fit for me.

I hung with these fellow Subic Hashers during the trek.
Country living
Is it a pond or a lake?
Strolling along on a warm day
Mother nature

Back On-Home for all the after-Hash activities I mentioned in yesterday’s post. I chose not to participate in the games and sat in the shade instead. Had a nice chat with another like-minded Hasher and passed the time with plenty of San Miguel Zeros.

A wet and wild Hash circle followed, then more beers and my first taste of haggis. I was running out of gas by 7 p.m. and asked someone to call the hotel driver. He wasn’t available, so she called for a trike instead. Now, it’s a goodly distance (8K) back to my hotel, and I was prepared to pay 200 pesos for the ride, which is more than fair. Given my lack of options, I could have been talked into 300 pesos, but when the trike driver insisted on 400, I wasn’t willing to pay the skin tax. I told him never mind and walked away. I was pissed but bit my tongue. Nothing good comes from making a Filipino lose face.

We called the hotel again and were told the van would be available at 8:00. Nothing to do but drink more beer and wait it out. Our group exceeded the van’s capacity, but we all squeezed in anyway. All but me and another guy got out at the beer garden in town, but there was no way I was going anywhere but back to my hotel. So, my night ended peacefully with me in one piece.

A Sunday drive

Swan sent this photo of Buddy waiting for my return. I doubt Lucky gave a shit.

The plan was to leave for Barretto at 9:30 in the morning, but I got a knock on the door an hour earlier, saying everyone was ready to go. Luckily, I had packed, so I put my blog post on hold, closed up the laptop, and headed downstairs. Only five of us on the trip back, so much more comfortable. I had the front seat again, which is always nice. Simon took a different route to the expressway, so we were seeing some new sights. And then we went under a bridge that carried the expressway and saw no on-ramps. We kept our northward heading, and I pulled out my map app to show us the way. We wound up taking a 6K detour in each direction through a small town with gridlocked traffic, but we eventually made our way back to the highway home.

Epilogue

We arrived safely just before noon, and I resumed my Barretto life. That included the Sunday feeding at Hideaway. Swan joined me at the new Oasis bar after church, and we spent some quality time imbibing (beer for me, wine for her). We made Sloppy Joe’s our nightcap venue. The Sit-n-Bull waitress came by, and I asked about pecan pie availability, and she said yes. So, two pies to go, please! Came home, had dessert, and then a lovely welcome home from Swan.

And that’s where things stand as of now. I’ll be Hashing again today and likely shortcutting since Leech My Nuggets is the Hare. Still don’t want to push my luck going up into the hills.

And here’s a two-fer in the bad puns of the day offering:

Back tomorrow with the latest happenings!

It’s been a hard day’s night

This year’s Haggis Bash is in the books. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.

A very long day yesterday. The trail started at 0930, and we didn’t leave the On-Home until 8 p.m. My ride back to Barretto is leaving in an hour, so I am just going to dump some photos from the Haggis Bash now, and I’ll write up a post-mortem tomorrow. Fair enough?

There were three trail options: An 8K with two hill climbs, a 6K flat hike, and a 4K short trail. I chose the middle ground, as seen above.
With well over 100 Hashers, the start was a tad crowded.
Things thinned out as the group split into their preferred trails.
I was happy to bring some sweetness into their lives.
And then I sawdust.
We had a couple of water crossings. My hike mates took their shoes off; I just plunged in.
I love this tree. But I didn’t get close enough to check for knotholes.
A narrow, rocky bridge. Once again, I just waded across.
On the edge
A wet and horny carabao
The stats from my hike. Gaining distance but still moving slow.

Back at the On-Home a little before noon. Lunch was provided (I had a hamburger with a spoonful of slaw on the side). And the coolers of beer were open for business. Then the games began. I chose not to participate but found a shady spot to sit and observe. It was almost 5 p.m. when we finally gathered for the circle.

Lots of bagpiping. Despite my Scottish heritage, I don’t particularly enjoy the sound, although I respect the talent involved in playing the instrument.
The setting for the Hash Circle. Dig that old school windmill.
Nearly 150 attendees for this year’s Haggis Bash.
As the circle commenced, we were provided an appetizer.
A Scottish egg, you say?
Not bad
The leaders of the Circle. La Union Hash doesn’t do ice. Instead, they have a crew of women who hit you with multiple pails of water. Thankfully, I avoided that trauma.
Another form of La Union Hash punishment.

At the conclusion of the circle, we were ushered into the dining area.

The Haggis ritual begins. Led into the building to a Scottish tune on bagpipes.
My first experience with the Scottish delicacy called haggis. Based on what I knew of the contents, I expected not to like it. Turns out, it tasted okay. I won’t be craving it, but I’m glad I had the experience.
That would be me after the hike but before my first beer. Don’t I look thirsty?

Alright, that’s how the day went. More to say about it as time permits. Thanks for stopping by.

Still not dead

I survived day one of the Haggis Bash Hash here in Pozorrubio, La Union. Day two kicks off soon, so this will be an abbreviated post out of necessity. You are welcome!

Yesterday’s trail was short and sweet, mostly through flat farmland. Some food and beverages at the trail’s end, then on to a local Hasher’s farm for the On-Home festivities. The main event is today, with a longer trail and some competitive events among the various Hash groups in attendance.

Here are a few pictures from yesterday:

My two-star lodging.
Quite a few Hashers are camping out at the On-Home farm.
A Haggis is a Scottish delicacy, and this Hash has a Scottish theme.
Yes, I am of Scottish heritage, even if they did spell my name wrong.
A touching scene from the trail of mother and child.
Something’s growing
There are over 150 Hashers at this event, and I wasn’t last on trail this time!
Hope you are enjoying this Hash post
I brought candy instead of cookies for the kiddies (easier to pack).
Sweetness is what it is all about
End of trail food and beverages
For the Hash Circle, we gathered around a fire pit
No need to let a good fire go to waste, especially if you have marshmallows
You can’t have a Scottish event without bagpipes
Scottish stew on the fire
And on my plate

So, we are off to a good start. It’s going to be a LONG day today, but it should be fun. See you tomorrow!

Who’s up for a quickie?

I’m fixin’ to head out of town this morning and it is now or never for a post today, so here’s what I’ve got to share before I go.

I invited Swan to join me for dinner at Mango’s. Here’s the view from my barstool perch as I waited her arrival.
My dinner date has arrived.
A view from our table.
Grilled pork chops for dinner
Sun going down
Sun down

After dinner, Swan agreed to join me at one of the new drinking establishments in town, Red Bar. It has dancers, but of course, they weren’t the focus of my attention. It was pleasant enough there except for the music. Why the bar chooses to play (c)Rap music in a town full of geriatrics makes no sense to me. I suggested we go where the music was more to our liking, and Swan was down with that.

But where? The nice thing about Red Bar was that I’m not a regular there (and didn’t know anyone). The next bar up the highway was my regular haunt, Wet Spot. It just seemed weird to be taking a date there. And yeah, I wondered how my “regulars” like Aine would react. I was about to find out because Aine was outside the front door as we arrived. And boy, was I in for a surprise because Swan knew her! They gave each other a warm greeting, and then we went inside and sat at the backslapper’s table. We ordered drinks from my regular waitress, Irene, and settled in. Then Swan asked if I would mind inviting Aine to join us. HaHa! A girl after my own heart!

A lady drink and two old friends reuniting. Good times!

Wet Spot was our last stop of the night, but I was impressed that Swan had joined me for a bar hop and seemed to enjoy herself. That was a first for us.

The morning had been nice as well. I did a 6K solo walk and completed it without issue.

Normally, I have a twelve-minute per kilometer pace on a hike like this. I’m back to walking, but I’ve slowed down some.
An Easter Mountain view from the hike.
‘Tis the season for drying rice. It still boggles my brain that the farmers take over entire roads for this purpose.

And now it is time to pack up the laptop and get ready to roll. Next report will be from La Union. Stay tuned!

At least they didn’t drift apart.