About John McCrarey

Born and raised in southern California. My career exodus has taken me to Arizona, Oklahoma, Arkansas, South Carolina, Virginia, and Washington, DC. And as of 23 January 2005, Seoul, Korea. Married with 6 grown children (blended family). First grandchild is in the oven! I created this blog to document my adventures as an expat living and working in Korea. I'm also pretty confident that I will on occasion feel the need to express my views on current events and other matters I find of interest.

I’ve got nothing to SOB about

I opted not to attend the SOB dance competition as originally planned. I arrived at Cheap Charlies a little after 4 p.m. to await the arrival of “doors open at 5 p.m.” at Hot Zone, which is right across the highway from CC. I was somewhat surprised to see folks begin entering early, and by 4:30, that trickle had become a stream. Hot Zone is one of the smaller venues in the contest, so that didn’t bode well for me securing a preferred seat.

But I had my hands full with the crew at Cheap Charlies, so I decided to wait until the appointed hour to cross the highway.
I also wanted to get to know the new girl, Narissa, a little better.

When it did come time for me to leave, I told Narissa I wanted to bill out. She got up and whispered something to one of the other girls, and they were laughing when she walked away. I asked what was up, and they said, “she couldn’t remember your name.” Ouch! But it was certainly a good indication of her interest level in me.

Narissa brought my change; I gave the girls all a 50 peso tip and headed to Hot Zone, arriving right at the scheduled 5:00 opening. Before I paid the entry fee, I took a look inside. As I feared, the place was already packed. There were still seats available, but I didn’t like the sardine can vibe. I’d also heard that a large group was coming in from Angeles for the show, and I reasoned that if I stayed, I might prevent an out-of-town guest from enjoying the contest. I’ll be around next week, so no big deal.

So, I was free on a Friday night, now what? I decided to treat myself to a meal at John’s place. He had posters up advertising a New Zealand ribeye promo for 695 pesos. Since I had just saved 700 pesos by bailing on the SOB, I took it as a sign of my dinner destiny.

It was quite tasty and seasoned well. My only issue was that it was chewier than I preferred. You can certainly “feel” the difference between USDA cuts and the meats from New Zealand and Australia. Grain-fed versus grass-fed, as I understand it. In deference to my diet, I didn’t get a potato side, sticking with cole slaw.

And I was pleasantly surprised when Dr. Jo and her husband, Chris, arrived for dinner shortly after I did. We had a nice chat and some laughs while waiting on our food to be served. The Hideaway bar is practically right across the road from John’s, and while I was dining, Joy messaged that they had no customers. I told her to be patient as it was still early. She responded that she needed to earn some lady drink commissions so she could pay her electric bill. I suggested that she pray and ask God to send some business her way.

Lots of traffic on the highway, making it perfect for a game of Frogger.

Naturally, when I finished my meal, I paid a visit to Hideaway, announcing as I entered, “God sent me.” And because I was on a mission from God, it was only fitting to treat all the girls to a drink. And so the party was on.

It wasn’t a feeding night, but the girls said they were hungry, so I sent one out for some roast chicken.

It looked like this on the plate…
…and like this in Joy’s mouth.

So, since I was the only customer and the girls were still talking about that country swing dancing we did during my last visit, I played all my old country favorites, singing right out loud and eventually giving a couple of them a twirl on our improvised dance floor. Good times! When it was time for me to go, I paid my hefty tab and tipped Joy enough to cover the month’s electric bill. I’m either a generous mother fucker or a sucker. Maybe a little of both.

The Friday walk was an 8k street trek. My lungs weren’t feeling up to a climb, so we took a Jeepney out to Waltermart in Subic town, then hiked the backroads home to Barretto.

Our path
Our group. Only four of us, including a new member, Tom (on the right)
Gen cracked me up with her banana leaf hat.
Country livin’
Burn, baby, burn! I was surprised at how much heat those flames were generating. Also had no idea that green shrubbery would burn so intensely.
An Easter mountain view for all you fans
Cookie stop
And the neighbor kids wanted some too
Bridge #4 we didn’t cross
Bridge #2 we did
It was a bloomin’ good time

Anyway, I decided to check in with my new best friend, ChatGPT, and get its opinion on whether or not I might have a drinking problem:

It depends on the quantity and frequency of your drinking, as well as the impact it has on your daily life. Consuming alcohol in moderation is generally considered safe for adults, but excessive or binge drinking can lead to a wide range of negative health consequences and can be a sign of an alcohol use disorder. If you are concerned about your drinking habits, it is important to speak with a healthcare professional or a licensed therapist.

Well, okay then. I’ll take that as a no. I consider it excessive when I wake up fully dressed, and that is very rare. Binge drinking? Hell, I take one shot of gin in a tall glass with a whole can of soda water and sip it. That’s pretty much the opposite of binging. Now, I know guys who start drinking a nine in the morning, and I never want to be like that. One of the reasons I quit the dart league was that I thought drinking at two in the afternoon was too early to imbibe. I do drink during my small window (usually five until eight or so) every day, but I don’t NEED to; I just want to until or unless something comes along that I enjoy more. I think the fact that I’m monitoring my consumption shows I’m in control. And I did give up beer in the interest of my health. As of now, I feel I’ve got it covered.

Time to prepare again for my nightly retirement party. Thanks for stopping by!

Pumped up

A busy day yesterday began when I awoke to the discovery that I was without water pressure. That’s a tell-tell sign that the pump in the basement that fills the water tanks and creates the pressure to transport that water through the pipes and into my residence was not functioning. I sent the landlord an email (he lives in Singapore) asking him to dispatch a plumber. I had a scouting expedition with my neighbor and co-Hare Edward to attend, so I headed for the hills.

An apparent Filipino patriot resides on the hilltop where the “long” portion of our Hash trail begins.

Ed and I successfully found a trail down to the valley and then looped back to the top and rejoined the “short” version of the Hash trail, adding 2K and another hill climb. We’ll return next weekend and spread some powder and chalk to mark the path for our fellow Hashers. Feels good to have our scouting task successfully completed.

I told Ed about my water pump issues, and he came by the house to take a look. As soon as I turned the pump on, he could tell by the sound that the bearings were shot. Ed offered to drive me to the local hardware store for a new pump. He also tried to get a plumber he knows to come out to install it, but that guy wasn’t available. So, Ed graciously volunteered to do the installation. I emailed my landlord again, telling him I had it covered, and the landlord wrote back, telling me he hadn’t been able to find anyone and to deduct the replacement expense from next month’s rent.

My new pump will reduce my February rent by 5100 pesos.

This was the first time I had made a purchase at the giant hardware store called Wilcon Depot (like a Home Depot, only larger). When I handed the clerk at checkout my credit card to pay for the pump, he asked me where it was issued. I’ve never been asked that before ANYWHERE I’ve ever traveled. I told him the USA, and he wanted to see my ID. I handed him my ACR card issued by Philippines immigration, and the clerk told me I needed an ID from the USA. Well, I don’t carry my passport when I visit the hardware store, and my only other American ID is an expired South Carolina driver’s license. The clerk reiterated that I needed an ID from the same country as the credit card. I told him that was ridiculous; I have lived here five years and don’t use American identification. He wouldn’t budge, so I asked him to call a manager.

When the manager arrived, I told her that I live here and, like every expat I know, I maintain my bank accounts in my country of citizenship. She asked to see my ACR card again, which contains my name and picture. Then she asked me for an ID that had my signature (I guess she wanted to compare signatures on the credit card), and I once again said the ACR was the only ID I carry. She finally relented with the admonition that next time bring ID with a signature. Hopefully, there won’t be a next time. And yes, I had enough cash in my pocket to pay for the pump, but I just couldn’t abide the stupidity.

Anyway, we got the pump home, and Ed went to work removing the old pump. We were shocked (thankfully, not literally) when the neighbor’s water pump turned on because the breaker was supposed to have been turned off. I had thrown the switch but on the wrong box, so Ed was working with hot wires. Oops!

Ed completing the installation and living to tell about it.

So, with my water supply successfully restored, I could take a shower and get on with the rest of my life. And you know what that means–a visit to the Barretto nightlife.

Along the way, I snapped a photo of the house being constructed directly in front of my residence, partially blocking my views. I still expect they will put a cover over the rooftop (it would be useless without one), thereby wholly obliterating my vista. It’s a strange-looking house, isn’t it?
After taking the house picture, I turned around and got this one of the view I won’t be enjoying in the future.

I decided to start my evening at Cheap Charlies, hoping for some more interaction with the new gal, Narissa. Alas, the place was packed, and she was otherwise occupied. I found an open seat, and Alma brought me my first drink of the night.

I consoled myself by looking out at the Kalaklan ridge and recalling my pleasant adventures on the pathways I’ve explored there.

After a while, the crowd left (turns out they were a group of Aussies celebrating Australia Day. Good to see them out enjoying themselves and celebrating the homeland with a pub crawl.

Meanwhile, I enjoyed the sunset along with my gin and sodas

Nerissa did free up and joined me for a brief conversation before I moved on to my next venue.

I still had money to spend on that 1000 peso voucher from the SOB, and I decided to use some of it at Voodoo.

My old favorite (she’s in her 40s) was there to help me spend the money keep me company. Nice to see you, Jenny.

Nice chat with the owner of Voodoo as well. Then one last stop at Wet Spot, and I was on the way home.

So they say.

I’ve been reading about this new AI app, ChatGPT, over at Kevin’s blog and other places, and this morning I decided to see what the fuss was all about. The signup process wasn’t too difficult, although I had to provide an email address and my phone number. That always makes me a little uncomfortable, but whatever. So, I decided my first question would be one often discussed here, especially in the comments: Are women working in bars good potential relationship partners? Here’s the response:

It is not appropriate to make generalizations about a group of people based on their occupation. Each person has their own unique qualities and characteristics, and should be judged as an individual, rather than based on their job. Additionally, it is not appropriate to objectify or make assumptions about someone based on their profession or place of work. It is important to treat all people with respect and kindness.

Chat GPT

I shared that response on my Facebook without attribution, and it got triple the likes of my own posts. Most of the comments were in the vein of “well said” and “very true.” My new bargirl friend Narissa commented that I “have a kind heart.”

So, my first impression is that people like ChatGPT more than they like me. Imagine that.

I don’t want to sound negative, but are you positive about that?

Another SOB Friday is in store for me at Hot Zone. It’s a small venue, so I’ll need to arrive early if I hope to find a decent seat.

One last question for Mr. ChatGPT:

I am sorry, I am unable to find any information about the website you mentioned and the blog “Long Time Gone” as my knowledge cut off date is 2021 and my ability to browse the internet is limited. But in general, blogs are usually created by individuals or groups as a platform to share their thoughts, ideas, experiences, and information on a particular topic or interest. Without more specific information, it is difficult to say what the blog “Long Time Gone” on mccrarey.com is about.

Chatgpt

Not so smart after all, eh? Oh, wait. It’s a blog about nothing, so nobody knows what it is about. Damn.

More nothingness to come tomorrow. See you then!

Play it again

I’m not exactly sure how yesterday ended, but I woke up this morning in my bed. Wearing my clothes. That’s a first for me. I checked my phone for any photos that might provide some evidence or explanation, but I only took one picture all night:

Joy jawing a banana walnut muffin

I remembered doing the feeding at Hideaway. Lasagna, lumpia, and pizza. I also remember buying a drink for all the girls. And getting some free drinks. Then it all gets a little fuzzy. I messaged Joy to see if I had misbehaved, and she just confirmed I was drunk. She also reminded me that I had danced with her (country swing) and made her dizzy. I was the only customer, so at least no one witnessed my tomfoolery. I’m not sure how much my bar tab was last night, but it must have been around 3000 pesos.

Aha! I just checked my wallet and found another piece of evidence.

I ended my night at Wet Spot. 360 pesos is the price of two gin and sodas the way I drink them (90 for gin, 90 for the can of soda water).

Anyway, I made it home without apparent incident and will strive to be more restrained in my future imbibing.

The other productive part of my day involved the 7K trek with the Wednesday Walkers. We dual purposed the hike as a scouting expedition for the February 6 Hash that I’ll be a co-Hareing with Ed. Today we went out and finalized the long portion of the trail.

Geez, that’s a crappy group photo.
The view from the ‘hood
Heading for the sticks
Laundry time in the creek bed
Cookie delivery to one of the kids at the creek
Gen monkeying around
My mountain friend Olivia and her grandson. I don’t envy whoever it is that has to haul that water all the way up here.
My other mountain friend
We scouted a new trail down to the valley and encountered a small cluster of houses along the way
New customers for my cookies, but I doubt I’ll use this trail much in the future; it was a bitch getting down
Just passin’ through
More kids at the bottom
Valley walkers
A fellow valley walker
The fields lay fallow
Well done!
Homeward bound
The route we walked

You can Relive it here:

And there you have it, another day in the life posted for my lucky few readers. Thanks for joining me.

It must be in my genes

That’s the kind of humor my dad would appreciate, and so do I

I got to thinking about my long-deceased father while sitting in the bar, assuaging my thirst for alcoholic beverages. Some of my earliest memories are of him taking me along when he visited the local beer joints. I guess they weren’t enforcing the “no minors” rules back then. I’d sit at a table sipping a Coke, and he’d be at the bar with a beer engaging the bartender and other customers with his wit and witticisms. Much like I do with the bargirls now. Speaking of which, after my father passed, I was going through some boxes of photographs, and I came across one of him in middle age on Texas Street in Busan, surrounded by thirsty bargirls. He was a merchant seaman, and Busan was just another port of call along the way. I wish I could ask him about his trips to the Philippines. Maybe I have brothers and sisters here. Oh shit. I just had a scary thought. Never mind, I don’t want to know.

Anyhoo, the bar culture is something that has become ingrained in me over the years. I don’t see a problem with that, provided you maintain some self-control and not be a drunken asshole. At least in the bars I frequent, everyone seems to get along, and we all enjoy a pleasant atmosphere. I didn’t really become a barfly until I moved to Korea and started living the Itaewon lifestyle. Met some good people back in those days, and I have no regrets then or now. It’s not the life for everyone, but it seems to work for me. Besides, what else am I going to do? I rarely even turn on my TV these days.

Speaking of Korea, Facebook reminds me that I was experiencing a winter’s day five years ago. As in -13 degrees. That’s me all dressed up for a night out in the bars of Anjeong-ri. Talk about motivation!

My journey to Cheap Charlies was much more pleasant last evening.

The view from my barstool
And the view from the urinal

I had an amazing conversation with one of the new hires at Cheap Charlies, a waitress named Narissa. Chat with most bargirls is pretty much what you might expect: surface-level mundane banter on trivial subjects, with occasional jokes or sexual innuendo tossed in. Not so with Narissa. She surprised me by asking questions about American politics and politicians (is Trump really a jerk?), famous people she likes (Bon Jovi), and whether I’ve met them (who was the most interesting celebrity you’ve met?) and specific places (Have you been to Universal City in Florida?). I did ask if she likes hiking and she told me she prefers museums and zoos with rare animals. Anyway, it was refreshing to have a “real” conversation in the bar.

The gal who captured my attention. Been here a couple of weeks. Used to work in a beach resort up north in San Felipe that is now closed. Thirty-one years old. And has a brain.
The complete package. I’m looking forward to learning more.
The sun sets on Barretto…
…and the moon gave me a big smile.

But I wasn’t quite finished yet. I needed to use an SOB “buy one, get one” coupon, so I made Whiskey Girl my next stop.

The dancers were practicing for this week’s SOB. They are the defending champs.
And my waitress Jenn gave me her usual kind and snuggly service.

I went home shortly thereafter with a smile on my face. My Fitbit says I was asleep at 8:30.

And I woke up at 4:30 a.m. to start another day.

Banana walnut muffins hot out of the oven. Yeah, not on my diet, but I had a couple anyway. I’ll take the leftovers with me for the feeding at Hideaway tonight.

And the morning view from my back patio:

Life is good, or at least good enough.

Poles apart

I survived another Hash. The way my tired old lungs were screaming during the climb, I started imagining the day when I just collapse, gasping on the trail. I did fine on the flat ground, though.

What made it all the more challenging is that in a “let’s go, Brandon” moment, I forgot to bring my trekking pole with me when I left home. I’ve really come to rely on that tool for balance and stability when I hike on uneven ground. I missed it most on the steep descent because the stick acts as a brake to my gravity-induced forward momentum. I didn’t fall, though, so I’m thankful for that.

We started the hike in Calapadayan, and I walked to the trailhead. I was somewhat regretting that when my lungs were poofed out early on. Nice trail of about 6K (plus another 3.5 for me). There was a second climb at Black Rock that I avoided. I might have tried it with my pole, but not worth the risk without it.

The trail as set by the Hare. At the top, you can see that the beginning of the trail was a long slog to the top of that mountain and then a steep down to the valley. The second hill is in the middle. That purple line was a lesser climb for those wanting an easy route. I did them one better by walking the streets back to the On-Home.
My version started at my house and avoided that nonsense in the middle.
And we are On-On!
The first part of the trail was through a neighborhood
Leaving the pavement behind
And now for the fun part. Not!
It got a bit jungle-like in places, too.
But it was a hot day, and the shade was nice
This Hare is known for his well-marked trails
Good job, Leech My Nuggets! Leech also likes to do his trails again in reverse on Hash day. i met him coming up while I was going down. He immediately noticed that I was struggling and said, “where’s your pole?”
Came across a family living high up in the hills on the way down. I made sure they had some cookies to snack on.
And then I encountered a whole passel of kids when I hit the bottom. They were gleeful to receive a treat.
Back down safe and sound and ready for a trek across the valley. Coincidentally, the last part of my trail was exactly the path I had walked on Sunday.
Carabao may not grow on trees, but they lounge under them
On-Home was at Yero’s, a pleasant open-air venue in barangay Matain.
Fifty Hashers were in attendance yesterday, including photo bomber Whatever You Want.
The SBH3 motto is “It’s nice on ice!” Be that as it may, I try to avoid it as much as possible.
Wonder Woman, the gal in the middle, does seem to enjoy pulling down her shorts and melting the ice with her hot ass.
Wonder Woman also earned the Hashit and seemed happy about it.
Pubic Head continues to recover from the broken ankle he suffered during a hike with the Wednesday group. Good to see him back out at the On-Home.

As usual, many of us made our way to It Doesn’t Matter at the conclusion of the Hash circle activities. And that’s where the fun ended for the night. And so does this post.

Spread ’em!

Happy Lunar New Year!

I started the day with my Standard Solo Sunday Stroll on the backroads to Calapacuan and back, a journey of a mere 8.5K, but that’s about all I have in me these days. Nothing new to see, so I reverted to the “photo every 1.6K” method and snapped a pic of whatever I saw at that moment. I’ll share those later in this post.

I enjoyed the proper amount of R&R after the hike, then prepared myself for an evening on the town, starting with the feeding of the Hideaway gals. I like the Sunday meal to be more special (they get pizza on Wednesday), so I went a little overboard at Andok’s, a local takeout chain featuring roasted meat, mostly chicken. In addition to the roasted bird, I bought some fried chicken pieces and two orders of pork liempo (grilled pork belly). Oh, and rice, of course. A lot of food for 1500 pesos ($30). I winced a little as I handed over the money, then remembered I’d spent twice that on lady drinks at Snackbar the night before. This was a much better investment.

The spread I fed ’em.

I figured there might be leftovers, but those platters were empty in no time.

I took a break from baking and brought some Oreos and a box of Choco Pies for dessert.
Joy gnawing on a pig’s belly
And giving a Choco Pie it’s just dessert.

Hideaway was surprisingly busy, although I didn’t know any of my fellow customers. Still had a good time and was once again rewarded with a free drink or two. Of course, it is more blessed to give than receive, so I reciprocated accordingly. I was feeling no pain when it came time to leave, but I had one more stop to make.

I had promised to pay a visit to my Alaska Club friends, and I didn’t want them to be disappointed thirsty.

I stayed just long enough to buy a couple of rounds of drinks and tip the dancers; then, I headed home. My Fitbit says I was asleep at 8:30, which is early even for me. That’s the problem with my gin regimen; it hits me too hard and too fast.

Pretty much

To the hike photos then:

1.6K on the streets of San Isidro
3.2K looking from a distance at the Black Rock we occasionally climb
4.8K got me thinking: Yep, no matter how you pronounce it, I like my gals saucy and sassy! (It’s actually the abbreviation of the name of the school)
6.4K on the National Highway in Matain
8.0K found me in front of the Alta Vista community center.
And then I was home at last

And no a quick time out for a grammar lesson:

You got to be careful; things are not always as they appear.

It’s another Hash Monday. Today’s start is about 3K from my house, and I plan to walk there. Leech My Nuggets is the Hare, so I may wind up regretting it, but only one way to find out.

Tune it tomorrow for a full report.

I hate when that happens!

In the red

Reminds me of when someone sends me a message asking where I am, and I truthfully answer, “It Doesn’t Matter.”

Speaking of which, I was on my way to It Doesn’t Matter yesterday and passed a woman I know walking with her kids. She wished me a happy birthday. I told her it was not my birthday, and she asked, then why are you wearing a red shirt? I responded because it was clean and hanging in my closet and went well with the color of my shorts. She told me people usually wear red when celebrating their birthdays. Then when I arrived at IDM, I got the same treatment from the waitresses–what’s the occasion? It was all good-natured, of course, but damn, I like my red shirts (I have a couple), and I intend to wear them whenever I please. And from now on, if someone asks me if it is my birthday, I’ll respond with, “yes, it is; where is my present?”

The fact is, I was attending a birthday celebration for Heidi at Snackbar later in the evening, so I thought it was perfectly appropriate to wear red.

Happy 25th year on Earth, Heidi!

I had had a few gin and sodas before I arrived at Snackbar and a few more after I arrived. So, I was even more generous than usual with the lady drinks. Plenty for the birthday girl, of course, and also my new favorite Jenn (Lydell has pretty much ghosted me) and a couple of others.

Jenn was feeling shy, I guess, but looking as hot as ever.

I had a drunken good time and spent around 3000 pesos ($60) to pay for all that liquid fun. Fortunately, there is a trike stand right next door, so getting home was a breeze. I even made it by my bedtime. Some of the other guests at the party mocked me for being such an early bird, but hey, it works for me. I don’t want to be one of those fools who doesn’t know when to say when and winds up doing something stupid. Or worse.

Earlier in the day, I had done my standard Saturday street walk in Barretto.

It looks like this, although I wimped out and finished at Sit-n-Bull after 6.5K because I was hungry.

Since this is a weekly jaunt, there was nothing much new to catch my eye, so I only took a couple of photos.

Something about the way the trunk of this tree splits into two large branches that crisscross over each other seemed interesting. Looking at the picture now, not so much.
And something about this dog watching me through a round hole in the gate that perfectly fit his head made me smile.

At Sit-n-Bull, I ordered a pulled pork sandwich and brought it home with me (yes, I took a trike). In deference to my diet, I took the meat off the bun and gave the bread to my helper. I poured my coleslaw side on top of the pork and chowed down. So, it wasn’t technically a sandwich, but it was masarap (that’s Tagalog for delicious; I just wanted to impress you all with my dozen-word vocabulary).

And about that diet–today was my weekly weigh-in, and here are the results:

This week I’m at 221.4 pounds, a reduction of 3.9 pounds since January 1 and minus 3.3 from last week. Slow progress, but at least I’m moving in the right direction. 195 is still a LONG way to go, though. I miss the ice cream more than the beer, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

I have the Sunday feeding at Hideaway on tap for later, and I also promised one of the Alaska girls I’d drop in to say hi tonight. Yeah, it’s a tough life, but somebody has to do it.

Back with more tomorrow.

SOBmissive

I can’t wait to become less impatient.

A nice 6K hike with the Friday group to start my day. I’m going to be a Hare for the Hash on February 6, and this will work for the short trail:

We just need to add a loop for distance and another climb for the insane Hashers.

I’ll add the photos from our journey at the end of this post.

Friday night is the SOB dance contest, and Whiskey Girl bar was the host this week. I got there early to secure a front-row seat for my viewing pleasure. And also because I’m a judge. The dancers are really stepping up their game and seem to have developed a competitive spirit. Good to see them having fun while entertaining us.

Last week’s champion, Voodoo, took third place:

It was a close finish on my scoresheet.

Alaska is always a contender, and this week took second place.

The Alaska girls
The Alaska girls in action

And for the first time ever, Whiskey Girl took the crown, or banner as it were.

The Whiskey Girl team
Whiskey Girls doing their thing. Every time I’m in that bar, they have been practicing, so their victory last night was well-earned.
Congratulations!

Here is the Whiskey Girl performance on video if you want to watch the action:

And as an added bonus, here’s my friend Irish from Queen Victoria bar:

Looks like an invitation to me.

I did, in fact, go to Queen Vic after the SOB, but I’d had too much to drink already, so just bought Irish and Susan one drink each and got my sorry ass home before I did something I might regret.

There’s always tonight.

So, let’s take a hike, shall we?

Five were in attendance yesterday. And yes, that’s Gem (the girl I had one ill-fated date with) on the left. She comes to the hikes occasionally, and that’s fine with me. Especially when she is walking in front of me. 🙂
Off we go!
A grassy knoll
Hungry pups
Walking the plank
Walking the road
Heading for the hills
Mountain life
The view from here
Splendor in the grass
Eastern mountain pokes her head up in the distance
Jumpin’ Gem in tree
Movin’ out after the climb
Taking a rest stop at my mountain friend Olivia’s place.
Back in the high cotton
Barretto and the bay
Water stop
Heading back down to town

Another good day. I have a lot to be thankful for.

UPDATE: Facebook reminds me that it was 18 years ago today that I made the life-changing move to Korea. Nothing has ever been the same since, and without Korea, I wouldn’t have found my way to the Philippines. There is much that I regret in my life, but leaving the USA and discovering a whole new world was the right move for me. Who knows what would have happened in wife #3 kept her promise to join me in Korea? Or if wife #4 kept her vow to love me until death do us part? But this is the life I have found, and this is the life I will live. For better or worse.

I don’t mean to be condiment sending…

…but let’s ketchup!

Anyway, yesterday was pretty much a cluster fuck. The power went out around 8:30 a.m., and I was hoping it would just be one of those short one-hour outages that occur occasionally. So, I headed out for my regular Thursday solo walk, and the power was still out when I returned home two hours later. And then I found out it was a “scheduled brownout” and would last until 4 p.m. Damn it. I have no water without power, so I can’t even take a cold shower. No electricity means no internet and no ability to charge my phone and laptop. Almost like being poor, except my cupboards weren’t bare.

My new phone’s wifi hotspot wouldn’t connect to the internet. I just got my old phone back from the repair shop, so me and the helper struggled to take the sim card from the new one and reinsert it into the old one. That took longer than it should have (it was like fitting the pieces into a jigsaw puzzle). The old phone did connect me to the internet but at an incredibly slow speed. Uploading the photos for yesterday’s post was at an excruciating crawl, and my laptop was running out of juice, so I finally just gave up and posted what I had. So, here’s the rest of the story.

I had a dandy trek with the Wednesday Walkers. In the interest of brevity, I’ll just share the Relive video of the hike:

https://www.relive.cc/view/vPOp3xMJ9Ev

My nighttime activity was limited to one stop–Hideaway Bar. I rarely spend an entire evening without a change of scenery, but Wednesday was the exception to the rule. I guess the reason why is that there was a good vibe happening. Only one other customer that I recall, and I had control of the music machine so I could play songs that fit my mood (feeling sad as I remembered the anniversary of my mother’s passing). Joy was also providing some comfort, and someone kept buying me drinks. Everything just came together for a one bar night.

I splurged on tasty treats from John’s place for the bi-weekly feeding of the girls.

Korean-style chicken wings
Beef bulgogi
Brownies for dessert
Joy said yummy!
Mhel said, “thanks, gwapo.”

I drank away my blues and made it home safe and sound. Success!

In addition to having no power yesterday, I received three pleadings for assistance to resolve financial emergencies. My friend in Bohol required 3500 pesos to pay for her business license renewal (she runs a little eatery). I deemed that request worthy and managed to wire her the money despite my glacially slow internet. Another person I’ve been acquainted with since moving here needed 2500 pesos to obtain the required health certifications to begin work at a new restaurant in Olongapo. I agreed to provide the requested assistance and gave her the cash prior to this morning’s hike. The third request came from my favorite at Alaska Club and was the strangest I’ve ever had and also for the smallest amount–300 pesos. I’ll call her Pam for the purposes of this post.

Pam was trapped in Bataan with no way out except for me! I did remind her that during the war, many prisoners had walked back. I guess she wasn’t in the mood for my inappropriate humor.

I’m looking forward to getting the details next time I see her in person, but a female friend of Pam’s had asked that Pam accompany her on a visit to Bataan. Pam told her she didn’t have the funds to make the journey, and her friend agreed to cover the expenses. Yesterday morning, Pam awoke to discover her friend had abandoned her without a word. So, there she was, a stranger in a strange land with no money in her pocket to get back home. She sent me a message pleading for help, and there was no question I would provide it (the equivalent of six bucks for chrissakes). I just didn’t know how to get it to her. I usually do wire transfers, but Pam said there were no pick-up outlets where she was located. She asked me to send it via GCash, which is a big deal here in the Philippines–a mobile wallet–that I’ve never used and know nothing about. I asked my helper if she had a GCash account, and she did not. Pam advised the funds could be sent to her account from a 7/11 store, so I sent my helper out on a mercy mission. I’m happy to report that Pam made it home safely, and I will hopefully see her at tonight’s SOB. Oh, and I hope Pam’s “friend” keeps her distance so as to avoid being murdered–Pam was livid when we chatted.

In other news, either I’m famous, outed, or maybe both. My friend Kevin has been looking at his blog stats and noted that he had over 7,000 visitors one day. My little diary of a blog gets 250 hits on a good day, and I’m of two minds about that. I mean, I feel an obligation to post something every day for the loyal few who follow me here, and I’m always wowed by the feedback I sometimes receive in the comments. So, increasing regular readers would be a good thing, I suppose, in a “the more, the merrier” kind of way. On the other hand, there is a certain freedom that comes with anonymity. It may sometimes appear that I write as if no one is reading, and sometimes it does feel that way. So, I’m always surprised when I encounter an LTG reader in person, especially here in my little town. A reminder that I’m not as anonymous as I choose to believe. And then, yesterday, someone (one of my readers) sent me a link to this post on Facebook:

Joakim Axelsson is someone I don’t know by name but may recognize if I see him. This was posted on the Sloppy Joe Facebook page, so perhaps he is associated with the bar in some fashion. I didn’t have anything really negative to say in the review, so I guess it was shared as a means of free advertising.

Now, there was a time I would post links to my blog on Facebook, but I stopped doing so several years ago. I post things here about my life that I wouldn’t dream of doing on Facebook. Even so, I’ve gotten negative feedback from family members saying my lifestyle here in the Philippines is inappropriate reading for my grandchildren, who are now old enough to Google my name and discover their perverted grandfather. Well, I guess I can always serve as a bad example. Nevertheless, it is somewhat disconcerting to know my local community may be reading my rantings and ravings. That won’t stop me from writing the truths as I see them, but I will strive not to invade the privacy of the people I know. So, as I go forward, I’ll be changing the names of people like “Pam” and may alter some details without changing the factual basis as necessary in future posts.

Back in the real world, at 4:30, I gave up on power restoration, sprayed on some extra cologne, and went out unbathed last evening.

Didn’t want to miss this view!
Or this one of Alma from Cheap Charlies.

I assuaged my hunger by ordering a plate of honey barbeque chicken wings from Foodies, the restaurant downstairs from Cheap Charlies.

In this rare before-and-after shot, you can see how the chicken wing looks at the beginning and end of the consumption process.

The wings were good; the drinks were cold, and the company was thirsty. Everyone was happy!

Later, I dashed across the highway and had a couple more at Wet Spot. Then headed home, where I was relieved to see that the power had been restored but distraught when I discovered that the water pump was not functioning. Nothing to be done about it in my drunken condition, so I went to bed. This morning before the hike, I gave my helper some money to have someone repair it. When I returned from the hike, I once again had running water. The helper told me she had remembered how to reset the pump. I’m lucky to have her! (I hope she doesn’t read that and ask for a raise!)

And that should just about cats u up. I’ll be back tomorrow with more!

The things you don’t forget

Like your mother. Yesterday was the 12th anniversary of her passing. I cried last night when I told Joy about her.

For mom and dad’s 50th wedding anniversary, we enjoyed a visit to Catalina Island.
In the younger days at home in Memphis
Not sure where my baby brother Gregory is…
Mom with her favorite son. (She never told me that, but how could it not be so?)
In their golden years, enjoying the ambiance of a Cracker Barrel restaurant.

Anyway, the rest of this post will have to wait until tomorrow. Power has been out ALL DAMN DAY, and know the batteries is gone in my laptop and the mobile hotspot from my phone is too weak to upload any more photos.

Miss you always, mama!

What’s up, Doc? (Redux)

Grocery shopping. Doctor appointment. Bar hopping. That’s how I spent my Tuesday.

Oh, and breakfast. That’s leftovers from the pot roast I made on Monday.
My grocery store, for better or worse.

Only one incident at checkout this week, and that was on me. I watch the prices being scanned much closer than I used to, and I saw $14.70 pop up on the screen, looked at the cashier, and he had a small bottle of some kind of sauce in his hands. I called out, hold on there, that ain’t right. My helper and the cashier had some Tagalog talk, he punched some numbers into the calculator, and she told me the item was 90 pesos. I told her I had seen $14.70 on the screen, but she said I was wrong. Hmm. As we began the drive home, I scanned the receipt, and sure enough, a $14.70 item was listed. I was livid and yelled for my driver to turn the car around; I wasn’t going to accept being scammed. My driver turned around, and my helper looked at the receipt. “John, the $14.70 was for the new mop we bought. The sauce was the next item, and it rang up right. Oh shit, I fucked up. I was seeing the mop scan price BEFORE the cashier scanned the sauce. Well, in my defense, I do have trust issues with Royal, and I’m also rapidly descending into the Biden-like realm of brain functioning. Damn.

My view as I walked to the doctor’s office.

Next on my agenda was a visit to Dr. Jo. I’ve been concerned about my diminished lung capacity, which now requires that I use my nebulizer three or four times a day when I previously used it three or four times a week. I feared my COPD condition was deteriorating, and I wanted some guidance on what, if anything, I could do about that. When I was first diagnosed in March 2017, I was found to be at Stage 2 (moderate) of the four-stage severity scale. Since COPD is a progressive disease, I feared I was moving into more dangerous territory. That determination will require more tests like the CT scans I received at the Army hospital. Dr. Jo is not equipped to do that, but she prescribed some stronger inhalants to use with my nebulizer, another pill to take, and advice to maintain a healthy diet and exercise. Otherwise, I will need to live with the more frequent use of inhaler products and the importance of monitoring my oxygen intake.

I brought along my recently purchased spirometer that measures lung output because I needed guidance on interpreting the numbers it provides. I gave it a blow, and she took a photo of the results. It wasn’t good, only about 50% of normal.

I just blew again now, and the numbers are marginally better than yesterday.

Dr. Jo sent me this as well:

So, at least now, I can interpret the numbers. She wants me to blow after nebulization, which will indicate the medications’ effectiveness.

I found these definitions useful as well:

Your FEV1 value is an important part of evaluating chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) and monitoring progression of the condition. FEV is short for forced expiratory volume. FEV1 is the amount of air you can force from your lungs in one second.

I guess the good news is my latest blow job (sorry, sometimes I can’t help myself) indicates that my COPD is still in the Stage 2 moderate zone. I know my lung capacity is declining, but I’m still quite far from death’s door. I need to do what I can to slow the COPD devil as much as possible.

As usual, with Dr. Jo and her physician husband, Chris, we spent an hour or more talking about my health issues and other news around town. I thanked them again for the birthday party invite, and Dr. Jo lamented that people were complimenting my brownies, but they were all gone by the time she hit the buffet. I thanked her on behalf of myself and Betty Crocker.

When it came time to pay the piper, Dr. Jo told me there was no charge for my visit. I was surprised, especially because she had given me an injection up my nose for my chronic congestion (yeah, I’m a mess), but she was insistent. When I got back home, I baked up a batch of brownies for her and Chris and dropped them off at the office on my way to the bars.

I hope they were good.

I started out at The Green Room with my “buy one, get one” coupon. Those really help because, with my switch to gin and soda, I’m paying double what a beer would cost me (the gin shot is one drink, and the can of soda water is another drink). The Sit-n-Bull waitress came in, so I grabbed a menu and ordered one of the daily specials.

That’s a Salisbury steak with mushroom gravy, with a side of cole slaw and a side of baked beans. Yeah, I know those beans are carby, but sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.

I felt bad eating alone, so I bought a pizza for some of the staff to enjoy.

It seemed like they did enjoy it.

I was thinking I’d hit Voodoo next, but they weren’t open yet. So, as I walked the highway, I was a little indecisive about where to go. I had just been to Alaska the night before, Sloppy Joe’s was too busy, and Whiskey Girl also wasn’t open (it was only about 5:30). So, I had the bright idea to hoof it out to Baloy and enjoy the ambiance at McCoy’s beach bar. Then I remembered they didn’t have soda water on my last visit, and I don’t want to break my goal of not drinking beer (except at the Hash). Then it occurred to me that I could bring my own soda water, so I hit the 7/11. Alas, they didn’t have soda water in stock either. Admitting defeat, I went next door to Snackbar.

I ended up staying for a couple of hours, mainly drinking with Jen (I missed her birthday party on Saturday) and buying lady drinks for a couple of my other old favorites. I messaged my pal Ron to join me, and he was at the gym but promised to arrive at 7:00. He got there at about 7:30. We had one drink, and he wanted to do a bar crawl. I told him it was too late for me as my bedtime was rapidly approaching. So, we compromised on making Whiskey Girl his first stop and my last. And that’s just what we did.

Overall, not bad for a Tuesday. Now, it is time for me to prepare for the Wednesday feeding at Hideaway. I’ve already baked another batch of brownies, and I’m going to treat the girls to some Korean-style chicken wings from John’s night. Heh, it’s only money, and I can’t take it with me when the lungs go, right?

Yesterday’s Dash

I skipped the Hash and made my own trail instead. Long for me (almost 12K) and mostly flat. Hey, when you are the Hare, you get to do it your way. Besides, who was there to complain?

I kept it on the streets, taking Sawmill Road all the way to Naugsol town, then circled back on the Govic Highway.
The view from the ‘hood as I departed.
Crossing the river on the highway bridge
Then starting my journey up Sawmill Road in Barangay Santo Tomas.
Onward to Barangay San Isidro. I wish I’d gotten a better picture of that massive tree in the background—next time.
Barangay Naugsol at last
Mainstreet in Naugsol, a quiet little village
Easter mountain’s ass side
I liked the clouds seemingly clinging to that hill in the distance.
Peace be unto you!
Those flowers were amazing to see in person; I couldn’t quite capture just how extensive they were
On the Govic HIghway heading back towards Easter mountain. “He’ll be comin’ round the mountain when he comes…” Except for the six white horses part…
A man may work from sun to sun…
…but a mother’s work is never done.
The Matain river in all her glory.
A San Isidro street scene
And as I neared the end of my Dash, I encountered this tell-tale sign that I had encountered the trail for yesterday’s Hash. So, I guess I just took a long cut.

You can Relive my walk here if you are so inclined.

Did my afternoon chores, then headed out for my after-Dash festivities. I was considering making BarCelona my personal “on-home,” but it turns out they are closed on Monday. So, plan B was It Doesn’t Matter. And an hour or so later, some Hashers arrived for their after-Hash imbibing. I heard nothing from any of them that made me regret my decision not to participate yesterday.

Although I was sufficiently lubricated, I had one more at Alaska Club before triking my tired ass home.

I’m already making plans for my Valentine’s Day:

Should be fun, although I guess I’ll need to bring my own mirror.
Ain’t love grand?

Back with more crap tomorrow…that’s a promise, not a threat!

Don’t forget to remember

The solitary path I’m walking leads to a misty future, but is the past any clearer?

I’ve got a lot of time to think, not that anything profound comes from that effort. Try as I might to live in the moment, my thoughts often stray to places I’ve been in the past, both physically and emotionally. And sometimes, I even think about lifetimes that only exist in my imagination. And thanks to Kevin Kim’s always excellent blog, I learned there is even a word for that: anemoia. Kevin links to an excellent post on the Liminality blog: Anemoia, nostalgia, and memory, which articulates some of what I’ve been feeling in ways I could never express. Thanks for that!

Anyway, out and about on my solo walks and occasionally sitting alone in bars provides the opportunity to reflect on past lives and what I’ve learned or forgotten from those experiences. It may not be in the realm of an epiphany, but it occurs to me that I’ve been forgetting to remember the whole story, basically cherry-picking my memories in a manner that renders those life lessons less valid and meaningful.

For example, I’ve craved a heartfelt and loving relationship, but I never seem to come close to finding one. Yes, as many faithful readers have pointed out, I’ve been looking for love in all the wrong places. But I think it’s more than that–there’s something in me that holds me back. Maybe it is just cowardice, or perhaps I’ve not been honest with myself about what it is I truly desire. But when my remembrances accurately reflect the big picture, I’m reminded of the drama, jealousy, and loss of self that I’ve experienced in past relationships. Conversely, when I negatively think of my current life, lamenting the loneliness and emptiness I sometimes feel, I realize that this could be the best life ever if I could learn to embrace the positives that flow from the freedom of being single.

Well, so much for the musings of Captain Obvious. Just sharing some of what I’ve been thinking lately.

Works for me! I posted this on my Facebook, and one of the comments was particularly astute: “When you’re single, you’re exactly as happy as you are.
When you are in a relationship, then you can only be as happy as the most miserable person in the relationship.”

More of the same around here, otherwise.

My standard Sunday solo stroll came in at 7.5K.

Saw some litter on the street that caught my eye and wondered how it came to be. Maybe the litterbug wondered if he should throw it on the ground and then heard a voice saying:

“Just Do It!”

Later, I headed out to Hideaway for the Sunday feeding. A roast chicken, some fried chicken, and pork Tiempo was the substance…

…and my (well, and Betty Crocker’s) blueberry muffins were the dessert.

My visit to Hideaway was cut short when I was told there were no more cans of soda water after my second drink was served. How does that happen? I mean, it is not like a can of water will spoil before it can be sold. And as an illustration of how pretentious I’ve become, I was a little put out that other than a shrug of the shoulders, no one seemed to give a shit. I’ve had other bars send one of the girls to the convenience store to pick up a couple of cans for me. And I’d just fed everyone over 1300 pesos worth of food along with some lady drinks. You’d think they’d want me to stick around. Oh well, lots of other bars in town.

After a couple more drinks at It Doesn’t Matter, I was ready for a change of scenery, so I crossed the street and visited Cheap Charlies.

My caretakers during the visit. Thirsty things they are!

I had a swell time sharing the bounty of blessings in my wallet with the girls. The one behind me in the photo is a new hire, and she may become one of my regulars. Enjoyed her company, and we are even Facebook friends now!

Finished my evening out at the Green Room, then went home comfortably numb.

Early this morning, I received a message from an acquaintance named Mae asking for some assistance with things she needs to buy before enrolling at a local vocational school. I ignored it, as I do many such requests these days (my charity budget is pretty much maxed out). Then after thinking about it some more, I decided that a donation to advance education was the kind of difference I like to make–paying the electric bill helps for that month while going to school can have lifetime benefits. So I told Mae to come over, and I’d help her out. She arrived early enough that she could join me for the dog walk. Then I made her a scrambled egg and bacon with toast breakfast. She also earned some extra money before departing.

Good luck to you!

And this is Hash Monday, but not for me. The On-Home “venue” is a vacant lot (owned by the Hare, Almoranus) at the very end of Rizal Extension. We were there once during the scamdemic when other options were limited, but it makes no sense to me to finish there now. When we were there before, we still had the Hashmobile. Now, after drinking at the circle until dark, how will everyone get back to town? No Jeepneys up there and very few trikes. Nope, it doesn’t sound smart or fun to me to walk down Rizal at night after drinking.

I did my own trail this morning (I’ll post those pictures tomorrow), and tonight I will have a one-man On-Home at my favorite bars.

Life is good.

Better yet, get two dogs!

Road whore

I don’t know; I thought it was funny.

My Saturday was spent in typical fashion out on the streets of Barretto. My morning walk looked like this:

My standard Saturday solo stroll of 7.5K. Well, last year, I’d finish at Sit-n-Bull, order food, and trike home. Now I don’t eat, and I walk back up the hill to my house.

For all the f’n good this diet of mine is doing me. I actually gained 2.3 pounds since last week’s weigh-in. Yeah, I haven’t been totally faithful to the low-carb plan, but I have sacrificed beer and ice cream for the most part and increased my average daily step count to no avail thus far (well, I am down a half pound since the first of the year). It’s frustrating, but I’m not giving up.

My evening bar crawl looked like this:

I walked to the far side of town to have a drink with Joy at Hideaway. Then walked back to Mango’s for some grub (a roast chicken salad). Next, I popped into Whiskey Girl, hoping to see my squeeze Jenn but she was out sick. I had a “buy one, take one” coupon to use, so I figured Queen Victoria would be my last stop of the night. Then I got a message from my pal Ron saying he was going to Snackbar and asked me to meet him there. And I did.
I push the envelope occasionally, but I think I maintain pretty good control. I don’t drink early in the day and almost always quit before 9 p.m.
My gin and soda routine. That’s one shot of gin in a tall glass, so it’s a pretty weak drink to begin with. After each sip, I further water it down by refilling the glass with soda until the can is empty. This is not to say I don’t catch a buzz by the end of the night. The difference between drinking gin and beer is staggering. *ahem*

Anyway, that’s what passes as excitement around here. I’ll be back to Hideaway tonight for the Sunday feeding, and we’ll see how things go from there.

I started this post with a joke, so I may as well end it with one.

Don’t be chicken to go outside without a mask! Although, putting a cover on the head of a cock is a proven birth control method.

SOBservations

Done with another Friday, and now I’m here to tell you about it. The day started with the group hike and ended with the SOB. Or at least, I don’t remember anything after the SOB. Woke up alone in my bed (as usual), so my blessings continue.

We had a new guy join us for the hike. He’s a recent arrival from the UK and more than a little out of shape. I was worried about how well he’d hold up, and those fears proved justified.

You can probably spot the newbie. I give him props for the effort, but it turns out he’s no Martin when it comes to endurance.
On our way to Black Rock
Crossing the river to Subic on the National Highway
We escaped the highway traffic with a walk through Santa Monica
On the quiet and flat streets, I noted that the newbie was having trouble keeping up with the group, so I tried to hang back with him.
A brief jaunt on the Govic Highway
It was quite apparent by now that our new member would not have the stamina required to climb Black Rock. So, I agreed to take him around the mountain and rejoin the group after their descent.
My path was downhill
I thought this easy walk might rejuvenate him, but once we reached the bottom, he needed to sit down and catch his breath.
The walkin’ doesn’t get any easier than this
The Black Rock I didn’t climb
Once we caught up with the rest of the group, it was obvious the new guy was in trouble. Problem was, getting to where he could catch a trike required more walking. He lay down on the ground for a while; then, we headed for the highway. Luckily, an empty trike passed by shortly after we reached pavement.
After sending the new guy home, we walked the beach back to Barretto
Another river crossing
And homeward bound

The new guy made it home safe and sent this message to the group:

Thanks to everyone who made me welcome today and was patient with my plodding. 🥵
Learned a lot about hiking in the heat and the level of fitness required. I have never been so glad to see a trike before. 🙃
Will be putting in the solo miles over the next couple of weeks to get myself in shape before my next outing.

All the best to you! At least you made an effort and now know what you need to prepare for.

And I enjoyed seeing Facebook’s reminder of the hike I was making five years ago:

I was walking through a winter wonderland. Well, technically, climbing. But still.

So, next up for me was getting ready for the SOB. I knew I had some heavy drinking in the near future, and I wanted to have something solid in my stomach before getting down to business.

And I had a hankering for John’s pulled pork sandwich. Yeah, there are a lot of carbs on that plate, but the goodness overpowered my ability to resist.

So, after my meal, it was time to make my way to the SOB. The venue was Voodoo, the smallest of the bars that participate in the competition. Doors open at 5:00, and I was the first customer to arrive. To my dismay, the front row tables had reserved signs on them. I asked the owner what was up with that, and he didn’t know; then he told me to go ahead and sit down. I was being joined later by Sheila, one of the hiking group members, and I knew I’d be buying lady drinks for my Voodoo regular, Josie, so I needed three seats. A bit later, one of the event organizers politely asked me to move to another already occupied table, meaning I wouldn’t have room for my guests. Alrighty, then. I told her I would be leaving and got up to pay my tab. When she realized I meant I would not be attending the event, she apologized for the misunderstanding and allowed me to return to my table.

I recognize I’m just a customer, and I certainly understand the need for “VIP” space for hosts and bar owners. But for people to be able to reserve their seats in advance is unfair to people like me who make the effort to get there early for a decent seat. Yeah, I have to sit there drinking for an extra hour, waiting for the show to begin, but you’d think that’s a good thing from the bar’s perspective. Anyway, it worked out, but I felt bad for causing stress for the poor gal who was just following orders.

It was a good show, and I enjoyed spending time with Shiela (the girlfriend of my buddy Todd) and Josie. Joy, one of the Alaska dancers, also spent time at our table.

Shiela, me and Josie

Here are some photos of the top finishers:

The Alaska team
The Wet Spot girls
The Wet Spot candle dancer
Whiskey Girl dancers
And this week’s champions, the Voodoo team. Well done, ladies!

And that’s all I’ve got for now.

Holey moley

This gave me a laugh

My big thrill yesterday was visiting a dermatologist in Olongapo.

This mole had been growing next to my eye, and it was starting to bother me. Not to mention that it distracted from my overall gwaponess

I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, but the doc said she would burn the wart mole off. (Heh, I thought moles and warts were pretty much the same, but I just checked, and they are not.

I also have some skin tags on my eyelid, but I opted not to have them removed as yet. Too close to my eye for comfort to be removed by burning.

I wasn’t sure how the burning process would work, but I pictured a lit cigarette being extinguished on the mole. That’s pretty much the way it happens. The only pain I experienced was from the needle injecting anesthetic. Then the doctor used some tool that applied enough heat to burn that ugly bastard away.

All that’s left is the scab. That should be gone in a week.

The procedure took just a few minutes, and then it was time to pay the piper. I was expecting the cost to be at least 5000 pesos but was surprised when I was told it was only 1500 ($30).

After the dermatologist, I had my driver take me to the local mall so I could search for some new hiking shoes. Merrells, my preferred brand, were completely out of stock. The other issue that limits my selection is size–apparently, size 11 is rarely in stock. Whether that’s because it’s a popular size or that it is bigger than most Filipinos (my guess) isn’t clear. Anyway, they did have a size 11 walking shoe by a brand called Jump that I’ve never heard of before. Given the fact that I had no other options, I bought a pair. Wore them on today’s hike, and they were comfortable. We’ll see how long they last.

When they said Jump, I said how high? “2000 pesos, sir.”

And while I was at the mall, I caught these two women staring at me.

I guess losing the mole worked wonders.

I mentioned the unavailability of onions lately in yesterday’s post and coincidentally came across a link to an article in Time magazine talking about the price of onions in the Philippines–more expensive than meat. Lots of speculation about the reasons why, but it’s a good read if you are interested in that kind of thing.

I started my evening out at It Doesn’t Matter. Scott came by after his appointment with Dr. Jo. He’s still experiencing pain and swelling, but apparently, what he’s been doing at home is consistent with the recommended treatment for a sprain. He’s getting an X-ray today to ensure there isn’t a hairline fracture or ligament damage.

I had a 500 peso voucher for Hot Zone that was due to expire, so I popped in for the three gin and sodas needed to expend those funds. While I was finishing my final drink, I got a message from a friend of Grace (she’s the one who set up the charity project for the Aeta village last month) saying she had a gift from Grace for me. So, I met her outside, and now I’m the owner of these:

Is that Tom Selleck? Grace apparently went through my Facebook photos and grabbed her favorite images of me for these key chains.
The reverse side has photos too. Not sure what I’m going to do with these. Maybe I’ll give them out to my favorite bargirls. Hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?

I had a “buy one, get one” coupon for Voodoo, so I made that my next stop. I’ll be back there again tonight for the SOB. Then I popped into Wet Spot to say hello to daddy Dave and company. Things were getting a little fuzzy by now, but I somehow wound up at Sloppy Joe’s to finish my night on the town.

So, that’s what my life looks like, for better or worse. Facebook reminded me of what my life looked like on this day twelve years ago:

That man would never have dreamed that this life would end and he would find himself reborn in the Philippines.

And here I am, trying to make it the best of all possible worlds.

Cause there's still a lotta drinks that I ain't drunk
Lots of pretty thoughts that I ain't thunk, oh yeah
Lord there's still so many lonely girls in this best of all possible worlds

Lemon tree

I had another one of those out-loud conversations with myself in the wee hours of the morning. It went something like this:

Me: Am I alive or dead?

The voice in my head: Dead.

Me: So, is this place I’m in heaven or hell?

The voice in my head: Both.

I’m not sure what the takeaway from that exchange is supposed to be (other than evidence that I’m clinically insane), but there you have it. Nothing to do but keep on keepin’ on, so that’s my plan.

I had a good time at Hideaway last night, as evidenced by my bar tab of over 3000 pesos; I usually only spend a third of that amount. The difference was buying lady drinks for the other girls as well as Joy. I also splurged on the feeding, spending another 1200 on the giant tacos from The Coffee Shop restaurant. I guess I was just in one of those moods, and money doesn’t have much value unless you spend it. And I do enjoy buying those smiles.

Joy’s taco
Joy’s taco in Joy’s mouth
Mhel, one of the other girls I was buying drinks for. She’s older, and a little chunky but has a very sweet disposition.

After Hideaway, I paid a visit to Cheap Charlies. My regulars were otherwise occupied, but a couple of replacements were soon seated at my side. I didn’t stay long and don’t remember anything of significance, but that’s pretty much the story of this life I’m living.

My Fitbit stats say I went to sleep at 8:30 last night, which is early even by my low standards. Then I woke up at four in the morning and started talking to myself.

The Wednesday Walkers group did a relatively easy trek, mainly on the My Bitch trail. There were six of us all told, including a newcomer named Gen. Yeah, that Gen. She said she was tired at the end but seemed to enjoy herself. Welcome to the group!

The Wednesday Walkers
Our newest member was a little slow-moving, so I walked behind her to ensure she didn’t get lost.
I always enjoy a scenic hike.
The Easter mountain shot
This group was resting on their water gathering trip at a nearby creek
Ed spending some quality time with one of the kids we encountered
My mountain friend Olivia was busy dicing up some onions. She’s richer than I thought. I can’t even find onions in stock at Royal these days.
A dip in the path
Likely the only time I’ll see Gen going down
Marching onward
The view from here

And that was the hike.

Yeah, these past few days have been a good reminder of just how lucky I am. I think I’ve finally reached the “I don’t give a shit anymore” level of caring whether or not I have a significant other in my life. I guess you should never say never, but I ain’t gonna waste another minute worrying about it. My life is what it is, and I’ve already had more than my share of lemons.

When I was just a lad of ten, my father said to me,
"Come here and take a lesson from the lovely lemon tree."
"Don't put your faith in love, my boy", my father said to me,
"I fear you'll find that love is like the lovely lemon tree."

Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet
but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.
Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet
but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.

One day beneath the lemon tree, my love and I did lie
A girl so sweet that when she smiled the stars rose in the sky.
We passed that summer lost in love beneath the lemon tree
the music of her laughter hid my father's words from me:

Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet
but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.
Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet
but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.

One day she left without a word. She took away the sun.
And in the dark she left behind, I knew what she had done.
She'd left me for another, it's a common tale but true.
A sadder man but wiser now I sing these words to you:

Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet
but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.
Lemon tree very pretty and the lemon flower is sweet
but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat.

A date that will live in infamy

There was nothing wrong with January 10, 2023, but the first date I experienced with Gen last night was a disaster. Yeah, the red flags had been firmly planted right in front of my eyes, but I proceeded with the scheduled date anyway. I’ve been around the block a few times and had more than my share of dates over the years, so when I call last night the worst date ever, it must have been bad.

I guess it could have been worse, though. We met for dinner a few minutes after the appointed time. Gen had said she was shy and wanted to bring a friend, but she showed up alone. In retrospect, if she had brought a friend, I might have had someone to talk to. So, a lukewarm greeting on the street, then up the stairs to John’s place. The restaurant was empty, so we took a seat in there. The waitress brought menus; I ordered a gin soda and asked Gen what she wanted to drink. No response other than a blank stare. Same thing happened when it came to ordering food. I wound up ordering for her…bulgogi and rice and some Korean chicken wings. I know she could speak because she got up and had a lengthy and animated conversation with the waitresses in Tagalog. I assumed she was inquiring about potential employment. When she returned, I asked if she wanted to go upstairs to eat because John was up there playing in a pool tournament. She just shrugged, so I said, “let’s go.”

Things weren’t any better upstairs; what little she said, most of it I couldn’t understand. Now granted, it was our first meeting in person, but we had chatted (in writing) numerous times, and she was reasonably articulate. So, I’m not sure why speaking to me was proving to be such a problem. It was incredibly frustrating to be subjected to her non-responsiveness and apparent disinterest in me or anything I had to say. And she certainly wasn’t initiating any chatter, at least with me. She talked with the upstairs waitress but didn’t share with me what it was about. She also spent time messaging someone on her phone, which seems extremely rude in the best circumstances.

When the food arrived, Gen ate the rice (of course) and picked at the bulgogi. Trying to discern whether she liked it or not and why was beyond my ability to interact. I got her to try a chicken wing, and she said it was “spicy.” At the end of the meal, about half of everything was left, and I asked if she wanted to bring it home in a take-out box. She just shook her head no. So, I told the waitress to take the leftovers.

Once we were back down on the street, she was asking about getting load for her phone and wanted me to help her find a place. I’d had enough and told her goodnight. She did seem surprised as I walked away. I offered to pay for a trike ride home for her, but she declined.

Later last night Gen messaged me that she had cried all the way home. That I wasn’t the nice guy she thought I was. And now she knows why I’m still single. Maybe she’s right.

There just seems to be something a little off-kilter about this girl.

I’m not afraid of love. Just like I’m not afraid of poison. I avoid both, because love is poison to me.

Ha! When I checked to make sure today’s post title hadn’t been used before, I saw that in October 2018, I had written about The date that will live in infamy, so since I’m using “A date” here, that’s unique enough. I had to laugh when I read that post again because, honestly, I’d forgotten all about Cherry. That date had ended with some passionate lovemaking, so it was much more satisfying than my date with Gen last night. Cherry broke up with ME the next day because she claimed to know I was having a relationship with my domestic helper (not true then or now). Looking back with all the wisdom (heh, yeah, I know) I’ve gained over the years, I’m pretty sure Cherry was a freelancer, and when I didn’t offer payment for her services, she dumped me. She actually did me a favor in doing so, I suppose.

EPILOGUE: I was surprised to get a message from Gen this morning asking about the hike and whether she could still attend. I truthfully told her that everyone was welcome on the hike. And sure enough, she arrived by Jeepney right at 0900. Once we got started, she told me she had never hiked before. Today’s version was relatively easy, with only an hour and a half on the trail. I walked her back down to the highway where she could catch a Jeepney home. She was much more friendly and conversant during the hike and, at one point, even held my arm. Where was that last night when it might have made a difference?

Just a few minutes ago, Gen messaged me to say that she was at John’s place to apply for a job, and she starts training tomorrow. Well, good for her. I hope it works out.

Pussyfooting around

Not much to say about yesterday’s Hash trail because I didn’t do much of it. The meetup was at Columban College (near Barretto High School, where the Friday group gathered last week), and so once again, I opted to take the shorter route through the hills to get there instead of doing a long-ass street walk or using a trike. I’m still uncomfortable being unaccompanied in the wild, but as a commenter here pointed out, there is danger in everything, so just man up and do it. I’m paraphrasing, but with the exercise of prudence and diligence, it is not inherently unsafe to hike alone.

Anyway, shortly after leaving the house, I realized that I had neglected to use my nebulizer before departing, as is my custom. My lungs ain’t what they used to be, and even a minor climb will often leave me feeling breathless. Well, shit. I didn’t have enough time to return home and still make it to the start, so I just pushed on. I always carry an inhaler in my pocket, so I took a couple of squirts from that and hoped for the best. Turns out Columban is exactly 1.25K from my house, and the one climb involved wasn’t a killer. So far, so good.

I headed out with the Hash group and went as far as the beginning of the first climb. I’d done it before, and it was not all that tough, but a voice in my head said, “are you sure you want to do this?” It turns out the answer was no. I told my fellow back-of-the-pack Hashers that I was going to keep it flat and I’d see them at the On-Home. I did around 5K before arriving at the Hare’s beer stop at McCoy’s on Baloy Beach. The Hare had arranged for a short banka boat bay tour, which was a nice break from the norm, although I declined to participate in that event as well (I didn’t want to wade out to the boat or take my shoes off). Yeah, I guess I was just in a lazy mood. I had a couple of beers at McCoy’s, then walked up the bach to Da’Kudos, this week’s Hash venue.

I didn’t take many photos, but here are some from others who did:

Seeing the trail map now, it probably wouldn’t have been a problem; after the first climb, mostly a stroll along My Bitch, then back down the way I had come up earlier on my hike to the start. Oh, well.
The gathering at Columban
Boarding the banka
Riding the banca
A view from the banca
Disembarking from the banca
My view from McCoy’s wasn’t as good as the ones from the boat.
The Hash circle at Da’Kudos
Hash Gash on ice
And the sun went down on another Hash Monday
We packed into It Doesn’t Matter for the post-Hash revelry.

I guess it is no real surprise that there are a few assholes in our group. And yes, I recognize that some of my fellow Hashers may consider me to be one. But generally, I don’t engage or interact with the jerks. Still, I encountered two at IDM last night. No big deal, I can handle it, even if I don’t much care to have my buzz killed by self-important losers like those two.

And on that note, I think it may be time for me to take a break. I’m leaning toward not Hashing next week at all. Maybe a little distance will improve my perspective.

What a party!

Let the good times roll! It’s good to have a change of scenery now and again, and what motivation for getting out of town is better than a party? I didn’t know what to expect and had no idea who else was on the guest list, but these doctor pals of mine know how to do it right. I was actually surprised that I knew as many of my fellow attendees as I did. Quite a few of us were patients of our hosts, and the rest were friends and acquaintances. Good food, cold beer, fun people, and beautiful beaches. We had it all yesterday.

The birthday girl, Dr. Jo
Jo’s hubby and partner, Chris, was also celebrating a January birthday.

The venue was Mope Beach Resort in San Narcisco, about an hour’s drive from Barretto. I’d been there once before with the Hash, but that was the day many of us were detained by the Philippine Navy, and so we didn’t get much time to, um, Mope. Really enjoyed soaking up the ambiance at this out-of-the-way venue.

Now, the entrance wasn’t too awe-inspiring, but then again, I spent less than five seconds walking through.
I’m a big fan of beach bars, and this one is outstanding
This pavilion was also a nice touch, although I didn’t get to hang out up there much as the party was in the main bar.
The view from upstairs
Me enjoying that view
The only problem with upstairs is that you eventually have to come down them. These were a little tricky when sober; I can imagine some painful scenarios occurring when inebriated.
Some beach-side seating
A view of said beach
And a view in the opposite direction
This isn’t on the Mope property, but I thought it’s coolness worthy of a photo.
They call it a “surf bar” for a reason. Boards are available for anyone inclined to ride the waves. In fact, several of the guests and the host Chris, spent a couple of hours on the water.
Dr. Jo performed surgery on the lunch meat and cheese appetizers plates
One of the guests I was surprised to see was John Brant. He doesn’t get out much these days because of advanced Parkinson’s disease, so it was great to spend some time with him. I first met John when I was a tourist who was a fan of his YouTube channel showing what life in Barretto was really like. He’s the one who also got me interested in the Hash.
A couple of female Hashers. The one on the right, JoAnn, is also my upstairs neighbor.
John “Wales,” JoAnn’s husband, was also there to enjoy the festivities.
My first plate of food. I went back for a hamburger patty and a second helping of that coleslaw.
Time was passing as the party rolled on.
A beautiful sunset
And then the sun was done.

And pretty much so was I. Said my thank yous and goodbyes and headed back to Barretto. On impulse, I had my driver drop me off at Snackbar so I could have a nightcap before heading home. That turned out to be a mistake. Lydell was there and completely ignored me, not even making eye contact. I mean, that’s okay, she made her feelings toward me quite clear, but I’m still a customer and deserve to be treated like one.

Now I wind up staring at an empty glass ’cause it’s so easy to say you’ll forget your past…

My pal Ron showed up, and the third waitress got around to serving us. Then we said, “fuck this,” and left. Looks like I’ve crossed another watering hole off my list of places to frequent.

Hasta la vista!

I didn’t let that ruin my day, though. It was a good one.

“Where are you hiding my love?
Each day without you will never come again.
Even today you missed a sunset on the ocean,
A silver shadow on yellow rocks I saved for you,
A squirrel that ran across the road,
A duck diving for dinner.
My God! There may be nothing left to show you
Save wounds and weariness
And hopes grown dead,
And wilted flowers I picked for you a lifetime ago,
Or feeble steps that cannot run to hold you,
Arms too tired to offer you to a roaring wind,
A face too wrinkled to feel the ocean's spray.”

--James Kavanaugh