It turns out the locals don’t call me the cookie man after all. I had two different “customers” thank me for the biscuits yesterday. Who knew?
In the first case, I got a message from a Facebook “friend” named Jenny that I’ve never met or talked to (yeah, I’ve got lots of those for some reason) saying she had seen me hiking in San Isidro. Jenny also mentioned seeing me giving biscuits at the house across the street from her. Her daughter wanted to know why the Kano (foreigner) didn’t give her any. I explained that the kids across the street from her were my regulars and that it was also my last bag of cookies.
Anyway, we wound up chatting, and she seemed pretty nice. She told me she did house cleaning and laundry and wanted to know if I needed any help. I explained that I have a full-time helper already. Then I said half kiddingly that I could always use a massage (yeah, I had been scrolling her FB photos, and she looked pretty good). Somewhat to my surprise, she agreed to come and do a massage. So, I arranged to meet her near her place and show her the back way into Alta Vista.
At the appointed time, I headed down the hill and was most of the way to her place before we met on the road. Oh my, Jenny was much heavier than her photos had led me to believe! Well, not that it mattered. After all, this was just gonna be a massage. Okay, maybe my little head was disappointed, but that’s often the case of late. So, after a brief exchange of greetings, we headed back up the hill to my place.
The total distance from where we met to my house is just under one kilometer. Granted, a lot of it is uphill (it’s a 30-meter climb). But between there and here, Jenny had to stop and rest at least a half dozen times. I was shaking my head in disbelief that anyone could be that out of shape. In fact, I asked her if she was a smoker or had lung issues. Nope, just not used to walking, she said.
Anyway, we finally made it to my humble abode. Jenny had some water and rested up a bit, and then it was time to get to work. She gave a decent massage, but nothing special. And nothing even approaching “inappropriate” touching, let alone a happy ending. And that was fine by me. When it came time for me to pay, I handed her 1000 pesos. She was surprised and said, “that’s too much!”. I was surprised because I’d never heard a Filipina utter such words. She was right, of course. The same massage in a parlor would have cost me less than 400 pesos. Still, it was Mother’s Day, so I just told her to keep the change. I also gave her a bag of biscuits to take home to her daughter. I then walked her back down the hill to make sure she’d make it home okay.
Since I’d forgone my morning walk for the unsatisfying massage, I decided to take the long way home. I regretted it almost immediately because it was frickin’ hot in the midday sun. By the time I reached the National highway, I’d had enough. I was also hungry. And there across the street sat the local Jollibee franchise.
And yes, like the wimp that I am, I took a trike home. Hey, I didn’t want my food to get cold. Yeah, that’s my excuse!
So, today is election day in the Philippines. Foreigners are not supposed to involve themselves in national or local politics, so I won’t. I’ve heard a couple of people complaining that they hadn’t received their 1000 pesos for voting. Yeah, that’s right. Candidates here can pay people to vote. Upon reflection, I guess that’s more honest than just stealing the votes like they do back in the USA.
That liquor ban doesn’t directly apply to foreigners, but establishments that want to sell booze to tourists and expats have to apply for an exemption. I guess it is a bureaucratic hassle because most bars just said “fuck it” and closed. I walked from one end of Barretto to the other and didn’t see anyone openly selling my beverage of choice. Remembering my lockdown days experience, I visited a certain hotel bar that had been my speakeasy. A brief chat with the manager, and I was good to go. My San Mig Zero was served discreetly in a coffee mug. Tasted good just the same.
Several beers later, I heard from a friend who advised a certain beach bar on Baloy was serving foreign customers. I was ready for a change of scenery, so I hoofed it on down the highway. As I walked on Baloy road, I noticed one of the resorts had a bar full of people drinking beers from bottles, so I guess they must have gotten the exemption permit. The beach bar hadn’t, but no one seemed to care. We were drinking openly there too.
It was while I was imbibing at the beach bar that the second biscuit coincidence took place. When I had been walking out on the Govic highway, I encountered a youngster I had seen before in Barretto. She walks the streets selling lumpia to bar patrons and the like. I had bought from her recently to feed the bargirls at It Doesn’t Matter. She usually has her two young sisters with her as well. I’m not sure how old she is, but I’d guess twelve or so. Friendly and sweet, and when she smiles, she reveals a mouthful of broken and rotting teeth. It’s actually kind of sad, but I do respect that she’s out there earning what she can rather than begging. Anyway, when I saw her and the sisters while hiking, I naturally gave them a bag of biscuits. And then yesterday, there she was at the beach bar with her basket of lumpia and sisters in tow. She gave me that big smile and said, “remember me? You gave me biscuits”. I told her, of course, I remembered and asked her if she had walked all the way to Baloy from her home in San Isidro. “Yes, sir.” Wow. That’s quite a hike, probably 4K one way. I bought her and her siblings a coke, and they went on about their business. What a life!
After a bit, I decided to walk on up the beach and see what else might be happening on election eve.
Turns out Da’Kudos was also openly selling alcoholic beverages. Naturally, I wanted to reward their good intentions, so I stopped in for a couple more before calling it a night and heading home.
It’s Hash Monday, so I won’t have to go looking for an open bar tonight. We are doing the On-Home at the Hare’s house right here in Alta Vista. Look for a full report on those events tomorrow.
Now, I don’t want to give the impression that my life revolves around beer. But these memes speak to me somehow:
Anyway, it’s all good. Glad to still be in the game.
But between there and here, Jenny had to stop and rest at least a half dozen times. I was shaking my head in disbelief that anyone could be that out of shape. In fact, I asked her if she was a smoker or had lung issues. Nope, just not used to walking, she said.
That’s pretty sad. Walking is one of the most basic of human activities. What does it say about you if you’re a failure at walking?
About “biscuit”: well, that’s British English, for sure. What the Brits call “scones” are pretty close to what we Yanks call “biscuits.”
Of course, as much as I respect the Brits and their version of English, I have to say that I don’t trust those good folks when it comes to food, not when their word “pudding” signifies pretty much anything! So confusing!
See more here.
Good to hear you’re making new friends .
It’s true what you say
Not to generalize or anything
But those jeepneys and trikes really make it way too convenient for people not to walk even for a few minutes 🙄 especially in the heat 😑 😒
I was shocked when I heard that even going to the jeepney stop requires a trike
My question today
What’s Govic …
And why haven’t you shelled out some money to fix the young 😒 girl’s teeth so that she can smile more as she hustles
Maybe you should start buying low sugar “biscuits” to hand out. LOL
Read an interesting article once on how prior to widespread use of refined sugar, tooth decay was not much of a problem. For example, finding the skull of a cave man showed teeth worn down from use, but not much decay. Same with some of the Amazonian tribes that have not had any contact with the “modern”world.
And usually pronounced “bis-kwit.”
Kev, it was hot, maybe that’s what got to her. She did make the downhill return trip without stopping at least.
I did glance at the Wiki link. I remember that with the line “so bring us some figgy pudding…” but most of the others I’d never heard of. You won’t see me ordering a “spotted dick” pudding anytime soon, that’s for sure!
James, “Govic” is the name of the bypass highway around Subic. It passes through the far edge of San Isidro, one of our popular hiking areas.
The thought of my helping out that youngster with some much-needed dental work has occurred to me. Of course, I’d have to do it through mom or dad, and the logistics of even finding them feels overwhelming. Obviously, I could ask the girl, and maybe I will, but I’m not really comfortable chatting up an underage street vendor. Maybe I’ll work this through a Filipina friend.
Brian, for the record, her teeth were ruined BEFORE I gave her cookies! Filipinos have the worst teeth I’ve seen anywhere. Part of it might be economics…cheaper to pull a tooth than to get a filling. On the other hand, I do see quite a few bargirls wearing braces. I’ve not really paid attention to Filipino diets and whether they are high in sugar content. But the girl I mentioned is missing teeth, has rotted teeth, and broken teeth. I’m not sure if anything other than dentures is going to fix that.
DS, I just checked the Bingo cookie bag I hand out. The only place it says “cookie” is in tiny print that I had to strain to see. With Spanish and Yankee cultural influences, not sure how they came to use a British term for what the rest of the world knows is a cookie. Come to think of it, when I hand them out, I usually announce “Bingo time!” and sometimes I sing that B-I-N-G-O ditty…
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