Today marks three months of living in the Philippines. And while things can always be better, on balance my life here is generally good.

I’m more and more integrated into the expat community with each passing day. It’s a small town and so I recognize and am recognized by my fellow (non) citizens. For the most part they seem to be a pretty good group of gents. And it is easy enough to avoid the exceptions.

My interactions with the locals is pretty much limited to those who provide the services I consume. And even here I’m made to feel like a regular, almost always greeted by name and an honorific (kuya John or sir John). A small thing perhaps, but it does make me feel at home.

Of course, there are frustrations. It is outrageous that I’ve been without water for going on two weeks. Totally unacceptable and totally nothing I can do about it. Heh, even the hotel staff knows me by name now. I also get discouraged that some basic items I’m accustomed to consuming are not available in the stores. I’ll be bringing an empty suitcase when I return to the USA in October to help alleviate those shortages.

And my love life. I did expect that some lucky gal would have snatched me up by now. Yes, there is Marissa. But more and more I realize as nice and as pleasant as she might be, she is not going to be “the one” for me. We had a nice enough date last night, but today I woke up knowing that I’m very likely heading for a train wreck. I need to find the courage to jump off before someone gets hurt. Or else I need to learn to stop being an all or nothing kind of guy. One of those.

Anyway, one of my goals in living here was to find ways to make a difference. To be making life a little better for some by my presence. I’ve got a ways to go in that regard, but in some ways I’ve been at least a small help to others. My helper Teri has a decent job now. My driver Donnie seems to appreciate the work I throw his way. The caretaker Tony gets a little extra cash from me each week. I’ve done some acts of charity for people I know in need. It can be overwhelming because so many here have so little and you can’t help them all. But, I do the best I can and take some satisfaction from that at least.

Going forward I’d like to find a project or projects within my budget that could potentially change a life. One thing I’m considering is the possibility of sponsoring a student’s college tuition, at least in part. It would have to be the right person in the right circumstances, but the potential for helping someone move out of the cycle of poverty is pretty compelling. I’m not sure how to go about that, a scholarship perhaps, or maybe I’ll encounter a deserving individual along the way. We’ll see.

I don’t really consider it charity, but I do buy my share of lady drinks for the working girls I meet in the bars. Such a small thing can make a big difference. You don’t always realize that, at least I didn’t. One night one of the dancers offered me a chair massage. I always say no to that, but this one had such a look of desperation in her eyes that I assented. When she finished, I gave her 100 pesos ($2). You could see the relief in her face as she confided to me “now I can buy my baby some rice on the way home. Thank you!”. Fuck.

When you bring a gal down for a drink they all ask the same basic questions, including “where you from?” and “where you stay?”. I guess I look like tourist (well, I do tend to dress a little nicer than most of my fellow expats, but that’s not saying much). They always seem to be surprised when I respond that I’m living here in Barretto. Their follow-up question is invariably “how long you stay here?” to which I truthfully answer “until I die”. How long that will be is anyone’s guess.

Although it did get me thinking about just how I might die here. I’ve come up with ten ways, in descending order (least likely to most likely). Here they are:

10. Killed by a jealous Pinoy boyfriend. This isn’t too likely I suspect because I hope I’d do a better job of vetting any potential mates so as to know if they had a boyfriend at home. Still, it happens. Especially with bargirls.

9. Pissing off the wrong person. Face is a big thing in this country and you don’t want to cause a Filipino to lose face when a hitman can be hired for a hundred bucks. I’m not the most patient person around so I need to work hard at my mantra “deep breath, relax, accept the Filipino way”.

8. Lack of quality health care. Okay, well there are two decent hospitals nearby, another a couple of hours away in Angeles, and the best (St. Luke’s) down in Manila. So it is as much as matter of what, when and where as anything else I suppose. Something really serious I could hopefully fly to the USA, but you don’t always get that much advance warning. Everything is always a roll of the dice, right?

7. Fucked to death by a horny Filipina. What a way to go though! This actually kinda almost happened once prior to my COPD diagnosis. I couldn’t breath but my partner was bound and determined to get off before she got off. Anyway, I’m in better shape now and I’m confident I can hold my own with any sexy girl I might encounter. Or die trying!

6. Liver failure. Okay, it’s no secret that I drink a lot of beers. Several a day, every day. I am drinking light beer with low alcohol content which ought to not be so taxing on my liver to process. But again, we all have to die of something, and I’m not giving up my beer.

5. Trike wreck. I prefer walking to taking the most common means of local transport, the tricycle. They are uncomfortable and unsafe and the drivers routinely ignore common sense traffic laws. Still, they are perhaps safer than walking home in the dark late at night or when there is monsoon rainfall. What are the odds?

The ubiquitous trike on the National Highway in Barretto.

4. Killed by my driver. Speaking of death by traffic, my driver Donnie may very well be the death of me. He drives like a fucking maniac. But honestly, so does nearly everyone else in this country. Scary though it may be, he is effective in getting me to where I’m going in the shortest time possible. Not that I’m dying to get anywhere in a hurry.

3. Hashing. Regular readers have seen my weekly Hash reports. I’m often one false step away from disaster. So, the trick I guess is not taking that step.

2. The National Highway. My walking and bar adventures generally require me to cross the highway a couple of times a day. I’m getting better at it I think. It’s all about timing, in a Frogger kind of way. I had one close call a couple of years ago after which I was advised to cross “when the Filipinos do”. I guess I’m going native. They are in the process of widening the highway from two lanes to four. That may prove to be the death of me.

1. Peacefully in my sleep. Hey, I’m an optimist. It could happen. In twenty years or so.

I’m not scared of dying
and I don’t really care
If it’s peace you find in dying,
well, then let the time be near
If it’s peace you find in dying,
when dying time is here,
Just bundle up my coffin cause
it’s cold way down there

Give me my freedom for as long as I be
All I ask of living is to have no chains on me
All I ask of living is to have no chains on me,
And all I ask of dying is to go naturally, only want to go naturally
Don’t want to go by the devil, don’t want to go by the demon,
Don’t want to go by Satan, don’t want to die uneasy,
Just let me go naturally
And when I die and when I’m gone,
There’ll be one child born to carry on.