Acrophobia? Gephyrophobia? Or maybe just plain old being a chickenshit? Back home safe and sound but thinking I shouldn’t be so risk-averse. Here’s the tale from yesterday’s Hash in the mountains of Baguio.

So, there was a long 9K runners trail, a 6K trail for those who preferred something shorter, and a “VIP” trail for folks who aren’t into a strenuous hike. My plan was to do the 6K which is appropriate for my speed. And then when the Hare was providing pre-departure instructions he made this comment: “Any of you on the 6K trail who have vertigo may want to go with the 9k instead, as there is a ‘hanging’ bridge to cross on the shorter trail.

Well, damn. On the trip up I had seen some real dicey looking pedestrian suspension bridges over large and deep chasms. I was thinking at the time “no way!” I also recalled the time I had to bail out on a river crossing here because I couldn’t deal with the scary and unstable bridge. So I was faced with a dilemma. We were going to be driven out and dropped off somewhere. If I was unable to make it over the bridge because of my cowardice I’d be stuck. The on-home was going to be somewhere out in the sticks as well, so even if I managed to find a way back to the hotel I wouldn’t be with the Hash group. And I just wasn’t feeling up to a 9K hike that the Hare described as “challenging”. What to do?

Years ago I had read a book called “Feel the Fear and Do it Anyway”. And so yesterday I felt the fear and did the VIP trail instead. Well, a modified version of the VIP trail.

I’ve got some photos from my morning in Baguio that I’ll share with y’all tomorrow. It’s a very nice city in many ways and I’ll talk about some of those things as well.

Greetings from Baguio, the mountain kingdom of the Philippines! Or at least the summer capital of the government. The American Embassy even maintains a residence here. Anyway, it’s a beautiful city covered in pine trees. It honestly feels like a different world up here compared to what I’m used to down by the water.

An uneventful 3+ hour drive to get here, and knowing my driver, that’s a good thing. Last night I got pre-registered for today’s Hash and then got drunk. The floored kind. Come to think of it, the last time I got floored was here in Baguio one year ago. Maybe it’s the altitude.

Anyway, that’s about all I have to report. Here’s a couple of photos from the trip:

Oh, and the other thing is that it’s freakin’ chilly up here. I should have remembered that from the last trip and brought a light jacket or sweater. Everyone else did. Oh well. I should be fine while I’m hiking.

Full report tomorrow (assuming I survive).

Er, I mean witness. Yep, I finally got my time in front of the Barangay officials to explain what went down on that ill-fated boat ride.

Jeff (the accused) asked us all to report to the Barangay office at 1:00. And then we waited twenty minutes or so for the officiants to return from lunch break. Ah yes, they were on Filipino time. When I looked in the door I saw Resa and Hana along with their friend Eva, another participant on the boat trip, also waiting. I stayed outside until called upon.

I wasn’t sure what format the proceeding would take, one on one or as a group, but once called inside a conference room with a large table, I observed that Resa, Hana, and Eva were on one side, with two barangay officials at one end and a third on the other. Jeff had a total of six witnesses and we all crowded in on the other side of the table.

Based on my seating choice, I was called on first to give my account of events. To summarize, I stated the following:

Resa and Hana were both very drunk, having been drinking heavily from four bottles of Emperador rum all afternoon. When it was time to depart, Resa walked out on the narrow bow of the boat giving every indication she intended to jump off. The boat crew would not proceed with her not seated. So Jeff grabbed Resa and held her down in the bottom of the boat while others tried to get a life jacket on her. She continued to resist, so finally, Jeff released her and went back to his seat. At no time did Jeff punch, hit, choke, or otherwise harm Resa as alleged.

The other five witnesses for Jeff all stated pretty much the same thing. In support of Resa, Eva testified that there was no suicide attempt. She claimed that Resa merely wanted to pee. Eva claimed that Jeff had been unnecessarily rough and held Resa down in a chokehold. Whatever Hana said, she said in Tagalog so I have no clue. Resa didn’t say shit.

With witness testimony concluded the head of the Barangay delegation spoke. She told Resa that the people present were not strangers, rather they were individuals who cared about her well-being and did not want to see her get hurt. Next, she told us foreigners that we should not have intervened. If someone has to physically restrain a Filipino we should have another Filipino do so. Then she turned to Jeff and asked him if he would consider offering an apology. Jeff said he was sorry his actions had been misunderstood and sorry that he had gotten involved in trying to protect Resa. He promised he would never do so again.

And that was pretty much it for us. Apparently, there will be a final mediation session next week. The witnesses were advised that our services were no longer needed and we were excused.

So yeah, it was all basically a bunch of bullshit. If Resa proceeds with a criminal complaint I may have to testify again. I can’t believe that she will still pursue that course in the face of what she heard yesterday. Then again, she has demonstrated that she is crazy as a loon.

In happier news, I went out this morning with Pubic Head and Blow My Pipe to scout our upcoming (March 2) Hash trail. They let me take the lead and liked what I showed them. Still a couple of wrinkles to iron out, but we should have a nice “sane” trail of 6K with a 9K version for the runners. One climb and the rest gently rolling or flat. My kind of trail!

For today’s “interesting” photo, I offer you the Department of Education’s Vision statement, as painted on a wall outside Barretto National High School:

I’m really happy to see that the President is not holding any grudge against Mitt Romney:

And at the risk of being accused of virtue signaling, I want to share with you my no meat commitment.

And that’s all I’ve got for now.

…but I ain’t geriatric. Yet.

Yesterday’s so-called “Geriatric Hash” is in the books. And given my bitching the last couple of weeks about trails that were just plain outrageous I’m loathe to complain about this one. Much.

So here goes: The Hares did two trails–one for geriatrics and one for “runners”. I opted for the longer runners trail knowing in advance where most of it went. And as it turned out it was exactly the route I use for one of my regular morning walks. In fact, it was my Saturday morning walk this week and that’s how I discovered the portion of the trail that had already been marked.

And as it turned out only three of us managed to complete the runner’s trail. All those big strong guys who usually leave me in their dust were nowhere to be seen yesterday. Because they lost the trail. Yes, it was poorly marked. And to exacerbate matters, the Hares hadn’t bothered to erase or modify Hash markings from previous runs. So the majority of runners followed an old trail and by the time they figured out the error of their ways they said “fuck it” and kept on going. I avoided that fate simply because I had already seen where the true trail lay. Of course, me being a slowpoke I couldn’t share that bit of knowledge before the fast group made a wrong turn. Oh well.

And in less than an hour I was On-Done. So that allowed more time for beer drinking prior to the circle. As the Hash secretary noted, we were losing money on this run because beer consumption was WAY up.

Oh, I got a new Hash shirt last night. A commemorative jersey from our ill-fated encounter with the Philippine Navy.

And the close-ups…

Accolades to Moaner for a creative design. And yes, I notice the spelling/typo error of “unGodly”. On the other hand, our captors didn’t give us any gold, so in that sense it’s correct.

For today’s “interesting” photo, let me offer this:

And that’s today’s report. Günter is the Hare next week so I expect a trail at the other extreme from yesterday. There’s nothing to be done about it, other than for me to potentially boycott the Hares that are just intentionally outrageous. Well, I’m going to set an example on the trail I Hare next month. I may even give it a name: The Sane Hash. One climb and 6-7 kilometers long. Plenty of flat, but off the payment and out in the scenic beauty of our surrounding countryside. If my fellow Hashers don’t like it all I can say is “fuck off!”. Damn, I really AM a grumpy old man!

An update on the Barangay situation coming tomorrow, such as it is.

I attended the annual VFW beauty pageant yesterday afternoon. Arrived a bit too late to get a great seat (last year I was a judge), but it was still an enjoyable diversion visually. The beer wasn’t cold and no Zero, but I made do with San Mig Light and a glass of ice.

What’s that? You want to see some photos of the lovely ladies? I think I have a couple here. Hold on.

Anyway, it was something different and I was happy to support the work done by the VFW folks. In addition to helping out veterans in need, they do a lot of community charity. Things like purchasing wheelchairs or medical expenses for needy children.

As interesting as those photos of LBFMs above may be, they weren’t seen on my walk. So, I’ll submit this one for today’s “interesting” feature submission:

I’ve mentioned before how Lucky finds the oddest sleeping positions. When I saw him like this last night it cracked me up:

That’s all for this time. Thanks for dropping by!

I never apologize. I’m sorry, that’s just who I am.

A satisfying evening of darts yesterday. Win or lose I want to throw well, and last night I was at least decent. Far better than the last time I played. I drew a solid female partner and so did my friendly rival, Steve the Englishman who doesn’t drink. And as seems to frequently be the case, we went head-to-head in the winner’s bracket. The match went all three legs and I’ll confess to being somewhat surprised when we prevailed. Unsurprisingly, Steve and Jo came back up through the loser’s bracket to meet us again in the finals. And once again, Liza and I managed to eke out the win after three hard-fought legs. Heh, it’s fun to win a well-played tourney.

In other news, Scott (Pubic Head) asked me if I’d do Monday’s trail with him (he’d missed the Hash). Well, I was planning on doing the Wednesday Walkers group hike anyway and I figured the devil I knew could be no worse than what those guys may have in mind. So, there I was again up on the big mountain. We did bypass one of the downs and ups, but still had 5K+ by the time we were back on the pavement. Neither of us wanted to complete the remainder of Leech’s original trail that I had failed to do on Monday.

I did however finally finish the final portion of the trail for my morning walk today. It was a familiar stretch that joins up with My Bitch eventually.

My offerings for today’s “interesting” photo feature:

I know I promised to bring you something other than flowers, but these were irresistible:

So, I listen to music while I walk. I’ve created some “mixtapes” on the Spotify app, but sometimes I’ll just play a set of “created for you” selections Spotify thinks I’ll like. Now, at my age, I’ve heard just about everything (except the new stuff those punk-ass young folks listen to). And most of the songs Spotify chooses for me are familiar. But then I heard one that was completely new to me and I actually liked it! Great musical beat, but the lyrics really grabbed me for some reason. The song is San Francisco B.C. by a group called Silver Jews. Never heard of them either. Anyway, give it a listen if the mood strikes you.

Old San Francisco, San Francisco B.C.
I lived with my true love and she lived with me
“Romance is the douche of the bourgeoisie”
Was the very first thing she imparted to me
We had sarcastic hair, we used lewd pseudonyms
We got a lot of stares on the street back then

Since her dad, a local barber, had been beaten to death
She had become a vocal martyr in the vegan press
The cops had failed, they couldn’t catch a bus
They were looking for a male with a bad hair cut
Enter tumbleweed, exit love and our affaire d’amour
Was set on self-destruct

She said “you don’t make enough to provide for me”
I said “what about the stuff that we quote believe?”
She said “I left that on the sands of history
I’ve found a new man to take care of me
He dresses for success and emergency
And he moves a lot of concrete on the QVC”

Middle-aged and deadly, like a cobra in the shade
Sat in the midst of the smoke that he made
His name was Mr. Games and he owned the place
It was a lonely bar and grill in the Lower Haight
He had a jeweler’s hands and a blurry face
He knew I needed a chance so he gave me a break

“If I hire you now, can you start today?
I got a high-rise job down by the bay
Just a couple of rocks and some firearms
There’s not many locks and just one alarm
My step-son Gene will pick you up and drive
Try to be his friend, he’s got a friendly side”

Doll-house lightning and the next thing I knew
We were back at our point of rendezvous
I was in the possession of burglary tools
Children’s fur coats and diamonds and jewels
Gene’s talking about insignificant shit
Just like crooks in the movies when they do that bit

He said the power of metal will never be harnessed
I thought the wages of metal should be heavily garnished
We were waiting for his dad to meet us there
Gene took off his hat and I noticed his hair
It was neatly trimmed but a patch was bare
I knew it wasn’t the wave, it was human error

Before I knew what I said, I said “killer cut”
I watched him silently putting out a cigarette butt
Then he came at me with some fist cuisine
I had to duck aside and that was bad for Gene
‘Cause when he went by me he tripped and fell
Through the glass coffee table at the Wong hotel

Right there and then Mr. Games walked in
With my ex-true love on his gamy limb
So her dad’s killer’s dad was her new beau
And Games had a wife, whatta you know?
She got real real quiet till we chucked the kid
Then she went her way and I went his

Old San Francisco, San Francisco B.C.

Tuesday is the day I restock the larders here Casa Rosenda. That means taking a ride out to the Royal Duty-Free grocery store on the old Navy base. I was in for a couple of surprises yesterday. The first was discovering that after more than a month, shredded cheese was back in stock. Here was the second surprise:

Luckily for me, they had an off-brand available for half the price of Kraft, so I bought four bags of that. I was also pleased to discover that the long-absent tortillas were back on the shelf. I snatched four packs of those as well.

The shopping excursion wasn’t a total success though. No fresh milk, so I had to buy the Filipino brand that sits on the shelf unrefrigerated. Truthfully it tastes fine, but I just can’t get my mind around milk that hasn’t been kept cold. I have no idea why it doesn’t spoil. I don’t think I want to know.

I was also disappointed that my favorite brand of cornbread mix was not in stock. Hell, I searched and searched and couldn’t find ANY cornbread on the shelf. I was about to give up when I turned the corner in the baking goods section and spotted two lonely bags sitting on a shelf with unrelated items. I carted them both.

And that’s the way it pretty much goes here. I’ve learned to buy in quantity when something is in stock because invariably it will all be gone on a subsequent visit. So yeah, I’m lucky to have a supermarket nearby that even carries these imported goods. That doesn’t mean I can’t bitch and moan when they can’t seem to have the foresight to order fast-selling items far enough in advance to keep them in stock. And yes, I’m living a blessed life if I can devote a blog post to my disappointments at the grocery store.

Anyway, I was finally able to enjoy one of my favorite treats for lunch today:

Yesterday’s walk took me out near Easter mountain:

And here’s my submission for the “interesting” photo from that hike:

And finally, I’m glad to have found some confirmation that the brain exercises I perform on a nightly basis have some scientific foundation. Cliff Claven can’t be wrong! I used to be a mailman too after all.

Cheers!

Survived another Hash despite the best efforts of the Hare, Leech My Nuggets.

Actually, at first, I was pleasantly surprised. We did the big mountain but the climb up was via the ridge road, the easiest way to the top. Relatively speaking anyway.

So once we were up on top, a couple of us were openly speculating about what lay in store for us. When we started heading back down a little-used trail, Buddy Fucker said: “this can’t be right, it’s too soon”. Well, I’ve always given Leech credit for being the best there is at marking a trail, so there was no question we were on the intended path.

Honestly, it was a reasonably pleasant hike down. Still, in the back of my mind, I knew we were a long way from our On-Home at Baloy Beach and I feared that meant at least one more climb was in my future. Nothing to be done about that now, so I decided to just enjoy my unfamiliar surroundings.

It was a tougher uphill than the first one, but certainly nothing as bad as Günter likes to put us through. Of course, if we had been more forward-thinking we’d have just stayed on the ridge road and avoided the additional ups and downs. But where’s the fun in that, right?

After marching forward for a good bit, the powder on the ground indicated it was once again time to descend from the mountaintop. My group determined that regardless of the Hare’s intentions, this would be our final trip down for the day. Ha Ha! What did we know? Leech’s path meandered down for a while, then up again, then down–and there was seemingly no logical place to exit this roller coaster. Good one, Leech!

As per usual, I was at the back of the pack. We’d been on trail for an hour and a half with no end in sight. Well, the end of daylight was fast approaching and that always makes me nervous. It took another thirty minutes to finally get off the mountain and back onto the pavement. Some of the group took a trike to Baloy but I was too stubborn to ride back. As it was, I was shortcutting a good 3K from Leech’s trail, which included another climb. Had I attempted that I’d be walking in the wilderness in the dark. No thanks!

I made it back to Da’Kudo’s on Baloy about five minutes before the circle activities began (I usually have close to an hour to drink up some free beer and eat something beforehand). Once again my bitch this week is that the trails are just too damn long for this time of year. Even with the shortcut I took, the sun was almost down when I arrived On-Home. I know I’m old and slow, but damn it’s getting ridiculous.

Alright, enough grumpiness. Except for being too long, I enjoyed being out there for most of it. I’ll try and do the part I missed tomorrow.

On-On!

UPDATE: Well, that’s a hoot. I used the “Too much of a good thing” title back in May 2016. That post was all about me achieving a 25,000 step goal. And I did it on the flat ground of the Han River bike path. Ah, those were the days. Some nice pictures brought me a flood of memories as well.

Another day in paradise. What can I say? Well, how about this:

We had our first virus-related death in Manila over the weekend. In what may or may not be related news, yesterday a “Chinese-looking” man collapsed on the sidewalk in Manila, and the passerby wouldn’t go near him. I about laughed out loud when I read that after the authorities arrived it turned out to just be a drunk Korean. Fun times!

When I was out surfing this morning I came across this article in Reason: “How the War on Sex Crushes Underprivileged Women”. It mirrors something I’ve been arguing for years–prostitution is not automatically sex trafficking, in fact, that is rarely the case from everything I’ve seen. Especially here in the Philippines. The “go-go” bars are dens of prostitution but I have never met anyone here who was not engaged in that profession by choice. The bars are always advertising for “dancers” and the pay is decent by local standards. Once hired, no one is forced to go with a customer and there are no repercussions for refusing to do so. In fact, I chuckled this morning when I read on one of the local forums about guys complaining the girls are asking for too much money for their puki. I chimed in with this:

Girls get to set their price subject to negotiation.  It’s their body after all. Don’t like their final offer?  Walk away.  If everyone refused to pay more than 2,500 it wouldn’t be long before the price was 2,500.  I’m not saying it will be easy.  These highly educated bargirls are savvy negotiators.  They’ve probably all read “The Art of the Deal”.  Still, stand your ground.  Or pay their price.  One of those.

Anyway, periodically the police will shakedown a bar for bribes raid a bar and arrest the manager and mamasan for prostitution crimes. The girls are carted off to some shelter and a press release says they were “rescued”. Rescued from what? A job that enabled them to support their families (whether they went with customers or not)? And when the bars are closed down, those rescued girls wind up selling their wares from the street, without the comfort and protections (like weekly health checks) provided by the bars. I’m no fan of prostitution and rarely partake myself, but these adult women should be able to sell their ass-ets if they choose to do so. If a man can sell his body carrying bricks on his back for a living, a woman should be able to make money laying on her back. Fair is fair.

In other news, I made up a batch of chili yesterday.

Regular readers know that I’m no Kevin Kim–I don’t make anything from scratch. But living here in the PI I don’t always find my preferred brands of baking mixes. Last time I went shopping for a cornbread mix, this is what I found:

Things of interest from my walk include:

What was interesting about the sari-sari? Yeah, I walked by at least 50 of them this morning. But this one caught my eye because of the name. And now my mission will be to search until I find a store named “Mortis”. Hey, it’s something to strive for, right?

I’ve got the Hash this afternoon. Leech My Nuggets is the Hare, so I’m sure there will be a mountain or two in my future. Coincidentally, Facebook reminded me that I was climbing mountains two years ago today as well:

Dance, they said
Life is only for the moment
The light is brief,
Don’t waste it.
The taste is sweet so taste it.
So I said I understand,
I’m dancing as fast as I can.

Well, the hoped-for return of some darts glory on the ten-year anniversary of my best game ever was not to be. Despite actually practicing some this week I played like shit last night. Felt bad because my partner came all the out from Angeles City just to play some darts. When he drew me someone told him I was a good player. I’m sure he was disappointed in the way I played too. Ah well, that’s how it goes sometimes I suppose.

The day wasn’t a total bust though. I found the motivation to try and discover an easy way back to My Bitch from Alta Vista. I was stymied at first when I tried to blaze a path through a field next to the house construction that blocks my old route. The construction workers waved me over and showed me a way behind the house. That works for now, but once the place is occupied it’s probably not going to be a viable option. We’ll see.

Once back on the familiar turf of My Bitch, I was resolved to explore the way down I hope to use when I Hare again next month. As I approached the junction I was looking for I entered an area where they’ve been doing some pretty significant burning.

So, I knew the junction by the stand of banana trees but there wasn’t much of a trail that I could see. I dove in anyway and started making my way down to the valley. I hit a couple of dead ends and nothing was looking real familiar, but I trudged on hoping I’d get lucky. Apparently no one is using this path these days. In the past, it was much more defined and I could see evidence of people harvesting bamboo or doing other work up here.

And get there I eventually did! Despite the hardship, I’m still hoping to incorporate this section into my trail as Hare. One potential problem is that it appears someone is building a fence at the bottom. Will they complete it before March? I’ll have a Plan B just in case.

And finally, I found this item of interest on my morning walk today:

And there you have another installment from my so-called life. Isn’t it grand?

Random thoughts and observations from an otherwise mundane existence.

It occurs to me that what seems the same is also different. Sometimes it’s a matter of perspective. Other times it simple forgetfulness. At my age perhaps the latter is the more common occurrence.

Take yesterday’s afternoon walk for example. I had it in mind to climb up to My Bitch from a path I hadn’t ventured on for several months. When I got to the trailhead I couldn’t get my walking stick to lock into place. I didn’t want to risk going up without it, so I retreated. I kept fooling around with the stick as I walked and eventually got it functioning properly. About this time I came upon another path leading up that I had used in the past, although mostly for coming down. So upward I climbed without much difficulty, although I noted it didn’t appear the path had been used much recently (covered with leaves and branches and such). When I reached the top, things looked vaguely familiar although I didn’t see anything resembling My Bitch. It was akin to those long-ago days when I searched for a way to get from Rizal Extension to Alta Vista and repeatedly failed.

So, I started down one path and just wasn’t feeling it somehow. So I turned around and tried another. This one wasn’t right either, but it had some faded powder on the ground so I knew it had been Hashed fairly recently. It wasn’t really familiar to me, but I followed it down the mountain anyway. And it eventually dumped me off on Rizal Extension (I had been hoping to find my way back to Alta Vista). I should have gone in the opposite direction. Ah well, everything old is new again when you can’t remember where you’ve been.

Speaking of perspective, Althouse linked to an article about an artist I never heard of (Jason Polan) who died recently at age 37. This is what stood out for me:

To walk down the street with him is just a reminder that, no matter how boring you think the day is, there are always interesting things around you.

If you think of just a walk to the corner as an opportunity to see something different, most of us don’t do that normally. He is just this super-voracious observer of everything.

That got me thinking about my walking routines which sometimes are borderline boring, I mean, there are only so many paths you can take in this small town. At least ones I’m willing to do alone. I listen to music which is nice, I think my thoughts that are mood dependent, and I plod along. This morning I decided to try and be more observant for interesting and different things along the way.

I’m going to make it a habit to be on the lookout for something new and interesting on my daily walks. Something besides flowers. Perhaps I’ll find a theme for the day as I try a new eyes wide open approach to my routines. We’ll see.

What else? Well, that damn Coronavirus thing is on everyone’s mind it seems, at least if my Facebook feed is any indication. No one knows just how bad it could get, but at least so far so good here in the Philippines.

Still, it seems the officials are taking forthright steps to prevent the spread of the virus. They’ve canceled the visa on arrival program for Chinese citizens. A planeload of tourists was sent back from Boracay. Subic Bay is a port of call for Chinese cruise ships so I was very happy to hear the news that ships due to arrive this week have been turned away. Of course, those same ships had just departed from Manila, so maybe too little, too late. Well, other than taking the normal precautions, what can you do? We’ve all got to die of something I suppose. I’m all for the later, the better though.

I’m making some progress in accepting there are things I can’t find easily in the Philippines. Sometimes you just have to do without. But I’m also learning to avail myself of goods and services that can be had if you know how to get them. Like shopping through Lazada, the Filipino Amazon.

This made me laugh:

That’s about it for today. Oh, I don’t know any German, so not sure what this is all about:

As always, thanks for reading!

Yesterday’s first-ever visit to the barangay office was a bit of a fiasco. Or should I just say that everything was done in typical Filipino fashion? Oh wait, those are both the same thing. Anyway, here’s the story with the background reasoning of why I was even there despite having pledged to myself not to go.

Alright, if you’ve been following along, the barangay crap is one the ongoing repercussions from the insane events on the return trip from Sampaloc Cove I wrote about here. During that fateful boat ride, one of the recipients of the drunken physical abuse administered by Hana and Resa was naturally pissed off. Once we reached shore she and her foreigner boyfriend, we’ll call him Jeff, went to file charges with the police. The police apparently referred them to the barangay to seek resolution.

Alright, let’s briefly explain what a barangay does, or better yet, let’s let Wikipedia do that:

A barangay (/bɑːrɑːŋˈɡaɪ/ (abbreviated as Brgy. or Bgy., may also be as Bo.), sometimes referred to as barrio, is the smallest administrative division in the Philippines and is the native Filipino term for a village, district or ward. In metropolitan areas, the term often refers to an inner city neighbourhood, a suburb or a suburban neighborhood.^[1] The word barangay originated from balangay, a kind of boat used by a group of Austronesian peoples when they migrated to the Philippines

And why you might ask would the barangay get involved in what is seemingly a police matter?

The Barangay Justice System or Katarungang Pambarangay is composed of members commonly known as Lupon Tagapamayapa (Justice of the peace). Their function is to conciliate and mediate disputes at the Barangay level to avoid legal action and relieve the courts of docket congestion.

So, the general consensus of those on the trip is that what happened on the boat should have stayed on the boat. Which is why I and most of the others were not inclined to get involved in Jeff’s complaint. And then the plot thickened when the instigators (Hana and Resa) filed a counterclaim with the barangay asserting that Jeff had physically attacked and choked Resa. Oh brother.

I had ignored Jeff’s attempts to contact me through Facebook messenger; sticking to my decision not to get involved in this nonsense. He cornered me at the Hash and pleaded with me to come and tell what I saw so that he would not be charged with a criminal complaint. Damn. Well, here’s the thing. As much as I don’t want to be involved I can’t sit idly by and watch a fellow foreigner get railroaded by the bitches who caused the trouble and committed the violence. Two Filipinas testifying against the white guy carries a lot of weight in a “justice” system that favors the locals in almost all circumstances. It is the reason I made a decision not to drive here, I knew any accident would automatically be my fault.

I know I’d want someone to stand up for me in a situation like this (even though Jeff brought it on himself by complaining in the first place) so I reluctantly agreed to show up yesterday at 2:30 to explain what I witnessed. And just what did I witness? Well, when crazy Resa was acting like she was going to jump off the boat, Jeff held her down while others attempted to put a life jacket on her. Resa resisted the effort and so Jeff let her go and sat back down. The counterclaim is that Jeff punched and choked Resa which just didn’t happen. Oh, and I also saw Hana punching Jeff’s girlfriend. That’s really all I can say.

So, I got there a few minutes early. I wasn’t sure where to go so I waited outside. I was happy to see several others from the boat ride show up as well, including guys with their Filipina girlfriends. Again, testimony from a local carries more weight from everything I’ve heard and seen. Anyway, Jeff and his gal arrive and he tells us that the meeting is not until 3:00 p.m. He goes inside the barangay office and comes out a few minutes later to tell us that the barangay officials want to talk to the complainants first and will take our statements afterward. Right at 3:00 Hana and Resa walked by our group and went inside the barangay without a word, although they didn’t appear too happy to see us all there.

And so we waited. And waited. Just before 4:00, Jeff comes back out and advises that the barangay folks will not be taking statements today after all. Apparently they used their allotted time in a failed effort to mediate the dispute. So now we’ve all been asked to come back next Tuesday afternoon to provide witness statements. Jeff thanked us profusely for coming and said that Hana and Resa were being completely vindictive and wanted to see Jeff being declared a woman abuser and potentially deported. That’s really fucked up, especially given the fact that the only violence that occurred was at the hands of these two crazy bitches. So yeah, I guess I need to go back next week.

I then proceeded to break my 5 o’clock rule and join my fellow witnesses for beers at Cheap Charlies.

Yesterday’s Hash featured two options: a Toga run/bar crawl or a regular trail. I opted to do the hike. Seeing as how I was in a foul mood anyway and I knew the trail started in Alta Vista subdivision I elected to head out on my own ten minutes early. It wasn’t long before the runners passed me by and later the faster walkers caught up then left me in their dust. Otherwise, I was alone on my hike.

The trail itself wasn’t too bad, about 5K all told. It had some steep ascents and descents in places, but no big hills to master. Reasonably well-marked, I only lost the path briefly once or twice.

My mood hadn’t improved much after my sweaty 1.5-hour hike. I didn’t even stay for the conclusion of the Hash circle.

Today I’ve decided to stop feeling sorry for myself. I’ve also changed my mind and will in fact give a statement to the Barangay office concerning the Banga boat drunken foibles. An explanation as to why and a report on how that turns out tomorrow.

Or more precisely, carabao in water.

I had a bad time last night and feel like shit today. And yes, it’s female problems. Again. I’m an f’n idiot who seems incapable of learning. My cowardice has not proven effective in protecting my wounded heart. I just need to find the strength to be content with being alone.

Maybe it was a sign, but this morning I found what I’ve been dreaming of, right on the sidewalk as I passed by:

This too shall pass.

Playing with the queen of hearts
Knowing it ain’t really smart
The joker ain’t the only fool
Who’ll do anything for you
Laying out another lie
Thinking ’bout a life of crime
‘Cause that’s what I’ll have to do
To keep me away from you