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.

Friends in low places

Only one other person showed up for the Wednesday Walkers group hike yesterday. That might have something to do with the downpour that occurred about an hour before our scheduled hike. I actually didn’t expect anyone else to show, so was surprised when Brian walked up. We’d never met before, but did our introductions and headed out for a flat stroll on wet roads.

The traditional group photo at the beginning of the hike.

It was nice meeting Brian. A comparatively young man (mid-forties), but he’s lived in the PI for twenty years or so. He’s relatively new to Subic, so all the paths we walked were new to him, and he seemed to enjoy them. I took him up Sawmill road, across bridge #1, through a San Isidro village, crossing over the river again at bridge #2, then a couple more kilometers on Sawmill before another crossing on bridge #4, then through the Naugsal valley, into Marian Hills, and back to Alta Vista.

We were so busy yakking and getting to know one another that I didn’t think to take any photos (it’s a regular hike for me, so nothing was new). Brian took this one in the valley:

No rain at all during our walk.
My tracker malfunctioned, so Brian sent me this readout from his. A nice 8K walk.

Got home, rested some, then watched another episode of Manifest. I’ve seen ten now, and it is holding my interest, but I’m also thinking, how the hell are they going to drag this out for three more seasons? It would be a good two-hour movie, but I guess we have to explore all the intricacies of every character’s relationships. Ah, well. It passes the time.

I baked up a batch of blueberry muffins (the good kind with real blueberries) to share with the Hideaway Bar girls. Stopped in at Sit-n-Bull and bought Joy some lasagna (her favorite) and some chicken fingers and lumpia for everyone else. The food seemed to be a hit.

Couldn’t get a decent pic of the lasagna in the dark bar. I had a taste, and it was good, though.
It all wound up in Joy. (see what I did there?)
The muffins were popular, it seemed, and a nice change of pace over the usual offering of brownies. I asked Joy which she preferred, and she didn’t hesitate to say the brownies. She likes chocolate. Don’t they all?

Joy had a nice surprise for me as well–a new wallet to replace the one I lost a couple weeks ago.

That’s how it looks this morning. Joy placed a few coins inside though, to make sure the wallet brought me good fortune.

After Hideaway, I dropped into Blue Butterfly to say hello to Tanya. She didn’t show up to this week’s Hash, so I wanted to check up on her. Turns out she had arrived a few minutes late, and she had the good sense not to try and hike the trail alone.

Nice to see you again, Tanya!

My next (and final) stop for the evening was at Cameltoe. My friend Johnny was there, and we enjoyed a nice chat and the music from my Spotify playlist. Of course, I wound up emptying my new wallet by buying multiple lady drinks and food for the girls.

Lydell seemed thankful.
You are welcome!

It was a pretty nice day.

'Cause I've got friends in low places
Where the whiskey drowns
And the beer chases
My blues away
And I'll be okay
I'm not big on social graces
Think I'll slip on down to the oasis
Oh, I've got friends in low places

Too dazed

Here’s how my lazy Tuesday went down.

Took the boys for their morning walk as usual.
And enjoyed the morning views as we walked along.
Speaking of views, the construction work continues on the house rising behind me. The noise is a constant distraction, but the worst part is that it is becoming more apparent than ever that my view will soon be completely destroyed.

Oh well, life goes on. I tried out a new blueberry muffin mix yesterday.

They came out okay, but I like my Betty Crocker mix better. The main difference is BC has a can of actual blueberries you mix into the batter. This one has some blueberry liquid you squirt into the batter in the muffin pan and swirl around. Gives it some flavor, but not as tasty as biting into an actual berry.

Completed my weekly grocery shopping at Royal without incident. Bought less than usual and still spent $200. Can’t think of a better definition of inflation.

School begins here on August 22. How do I know, and why do I care? Well, I don’t particularly care, but I know because I’ve received several desperate pleas from mothers saying they need to buy school supplies, uniforms, etc., for their kids. I helped a couple that I thought were worthy. That includes the one who pleaded not for a donation but begged to give me a massage in order to earn money to outfit her son for school. I respected her willingness to work for the money rather than have it just given to her. She came over yesterday afternoon and rubbed me the right way. She sent this photo later, thanking me for helping her.

Glad I could help.

The other recipient just sent me this photo:

To be honest, it gives me a good feeling to help these struggling mothers outfit their kids for school. And when I consider the money I spend in the bars (although lady drinks are also a form of charity, I suppose), it makes it hard to say no to a legitimate request for help.

Facebook memories reminded me that I first met this woman six years ago:

Ah, Eun Oke. When I posted this photo on August 16, 2016, I captioned it: “The future is a mystery.” When I shared it on Facebook yesterday, I said, “The past is history.” And so it goes.

I am reminded of the trip we made to the Philippines in September 2016. Eun Oke had a great time, but at the end of our vacation, she woke me up early one morning and said, “we don’t have a future together.” I asked her why and she told me, “because you want to retire and move here. Who wants to live in a poor country?” I responded that you could live in your rich country and pretend this world doesn’t exist, or you can live here and try to make a difference for some people. That’s what I want to do.

We wound up staying together for a few more months, but it didn’t work out for us in the long run. But she did render this drawing of me before we broke up:

She had some talent with the pad and paper, that’s for sure.

Everything happens for a reason, I suppose. I enjoyed her company while it lasted. Most of the time, anyway.

Yes, that’s true. Five years ago, I was spending my final few months in Pyeongtaek, Korea, and was a miserable fuck who couldn’t wait to start his new life in the Philippines. And here I am. Things haven’t gone as I imagined they would, but I’m doing my best to appreciate the life I do have here.

I thought for sure I would be in a relationship here, for one thing. Actually, I had trained Loraine to be my caregiver, masseuse, helper, and companion. She dumped me, too, a few months before I arrived. And as regular readers know, I haven’t had a successful relationship in the four-plus years since I moved. Saw this today and thought maybe I’m going about it all wrong:

Okay, let me see if I can find a partner then.

During my internet wanderings, I came across this map showing the degree of poverty in different parts of the Philippines:

I live on Luzon (the top portion of the map), which is overall the richest island in the country (home of the capital city, Manila). I was surprised to see that my province of Zambales (on the upper left side of the map) is one of the poorest in Luzon. I guess everything is relative, but seeing extreme poverty can be depressing at times. I guess that’s why sometimes even doing little things, like handing out some cookies, can feel so good.

I guess I’ll start calling my bar crawls charity runs. Last night’s efforts to improve the lives of thirsty bar girls included stops at It Doesn’t Matter, Cheap Charlies, Outback, and Cameltoe (Kamto).

Marie and Agnes from It Doesn’t Matter.
Lydell, Hansum man, and Heidi at Cameltoe.

I also took a dinner break along the way at Sit-n-Bull.

I enjoyed the hell out of this roast beef dip. Damn, it was good.

And there you have the story of my Tuesday thoughts, ramblings, and activities. It may not be a perfect life, but it is the best life I have. I’m going to enjoy it while I can. Thanks for coming along for the ride.

Checkpoint Charlie

Yesterday’s Hash went fine. The Hares laid a mostly paved trail that would be appropriate in the event of rain. It wound up not raining during the Hash hours, so that effort was for naught. The trail itself was very familiar to me–most of it is part of my standard Sunday walk. I thought it was kind of funny that I hadn’t made that walk on Sunday because I needed to hike to the ATM in Subic, but here I was, making up for it on Monday’s Hash.

My only real complaint about the trail was that the Hares had included five checkpoints on the relatively short 5K hike. I dislike checkpoints during the best of circumstances, but these seemed especially unnecessary and pointless. For those who don’t know, a checkpoint on the trail requires that you explore in all possible directions for the “true trail.”

That’s the symbol the Hares use to indicate you are at a checkpoint.

So, basically, you’ll be marching along, and then you see the dreaded checkpoint symbol. In order to find the proper trail, you need to go fifty yards or so in all possible directions until you find chalk or powder indicating you are On-On. This can be frustrating and, to me, just creates unnecessary confusion. Yesterday, I guessed right on four of the five checkpoints, so didn’t have to backtrack. And the one I guessed wrong, I just proceeded on my own path until I worked my way back to the actual trail. So, no big deal, but as I said, it just makes things more difficult and confusing. The original purpose of a checkpoint was to keep the pack together by slowing down the runners. For that to work, though, the first runner who finds the true trail is supposed to go back to the checkpoint and indicate the proper path for those that follow. That never happens at our Hash. Okay, rant over.

Our On-Home was at a place called Yeros, and it was only our second time visiting this venue. It’s got nice covered outdoor seating and plenty of room for our Hash circle. They have a pretty extensive menu, and despite the crowd (there were over forty of us), they provided good service. The food was just average tasting, but the prices were good. I had two smallish chicken shwarmas for only 120 pesos (less than $3.). The beer was cold and plentiful, and this week (I only drink beer on Hash night), it tasted much better than last time. I’ll be glad to reach my target weight and switch back to beer full-time. I’m making slow progress, though, because the gin reduces my resistance to my sweet tooth. Ah, well, first-world problems and all that.

Here are some photos from our trek:

A very familiar path for this Hasher.
Gathering up at our starting point at the VFW.
And we are On-On!
Look familiar? Yep, that’s my usual shortcut up to my place in Alta Vista.
I actually walk this particular path two or three times a week. And there’s our friend Easter mountain off to the left.
This trail is the back entrance/exit for Alta Vista if you are on foot heading to/from San Isidro.
Even with no rain, there were still plenty of puddles to avoid.
See what I mean?
It wasn’t all bad, though.
Crossing Bridge #3.
On to Govic Highway.

The Hare’s trail came down these steps to the National Highway. I’d gone the “wrong” way at the last checkpoint, so I took a different route down. Made my trail a little bit longer, but so be it.
Arriving at the On-Home venue.
Pre-circle eating and drinking.
The Hash circle in action.
I can’t say I enjoyed EVERY moment, but most of them were fine and dandy.

After the Hash, I walked up the highway for some more beers at the Snatchbar (technically, Snackbar, but when the (female) owner refers to it as Snatchbar, I guess I can too.) I’m going to start calling Kamto (same owner) Cameltoe from now on, too.

I made it an early night, home before eight, but then again, my first beer was at an earlier than normal 4 p.m. It’s all about pacing yourself and knowing when to say when. I’m a drinker but not a drunk, and I intend to keep it that way.

At my Hideout

I visit the Hideout Bar on Wednesday and Sunday. It’s become my tradition to feed the girls and to give drinks to Joy during my visits. They all seem to appreciate it, and it’s a nice diversion from my regular routine. Hmm, I just asked myself how it’s different, and the best I could come up with is that I don’t usually buy dinner in other bars. Although sometimes I do. But not on a regular schedule, so it is a little bit different.

Joy always seems happy to see me.
The fried chicken from Chooks To Go was what the crew was hungry for.
And brownies for dessert.
Joy says, “yum!”

I had a tab to pay at Kamto, so once I finished at Hideaway, I made the walk across town to take care of business. I wound up finishing my night there. A couple of friends were there to chat with, I was handling DJ duties, and the staff was kind, attentive, and thirsty. Paid the 3000 pesos from Saturday and another 2000 for last night. Plus, what I’d spent at Hideaway. That’s big spending for me, but not really in excess of my budget. How do you put a price tag on a good time?

It’s Hash Monday, so I’m gearing up for today’s adventure. I didn’t do my usual Monday morning walk to Baloy, just wasn’t feeling it. I’m still working my way through season 1 of Manifest. It’s holding my interest so far, so there’s that. I am curious about what is causing the supernatural/paranormal events being experienced by the story’s main characters. The other relationship stuff is a little boring to me. Naturally, the story is being drawn out to fill in the episodes for the three completed seasons, with one more to come soon. We’ll see if I can hold out that long.

And oh yeah, I found this as an ad on Facebook:

I don’t click on ads, but I did on this one. It’s apparently one of those things you do by incorporating your own exercise routines. Too expensive for my taste (almost $200 bucks). Trophies and awards don’t interest me. Here’s a link to their website if you want to know more about hiking to Mordor.

Back tomorrow with a Hash report.

Hair of the dog that bit me

Suffered throughout the day yesterday from the hangover effects of my overindulgence on Friday night. I still managed an abbreviated morning Barretto walk and watched another episode of Manifest, but not much else. They say the best cure is the same medicine (but in more reasonable doses), so I headed on into town to partake.

Started out at It Doesn’t Matter. Nice chat with my buddy Chris and some drinks for my favorite waitress, Agnes. I had three soda waters with gin, then moved on to Hot Zone. It was owner Jay’s birthday, so I had two more drinks as part of the celebration.

My next stop was Wet Spot to get a first-hand account of my drunken behavior the night before. Sat with the manager, Bret, and got the low down. He confirmed that I had taken a tumble on stage whilst trying to collect my raffles coupon (the rule is you remove the prize with your mouth. They are usually stuck in the young lady’s cleavage. Apparently, I lost my balance bending down to do the deed). And yes, I had a loud sneezing fit (Aine said she could hear me all the way in the comfort room). While I didn’t engage in any rude or obnoxious behavior, I did attempt to sing into the MC’s microphone. And no, I still don’t remember any of that happening.

I intended to make Wet Spot my final stop for the evening, but as I finished my second drink, I got a message from the gals at Kamto saying they were waiting for me there. How could I refuse? So, I hoofed it on up the highway. I was low on cash, but the owner assured me I could pay my tab the next day, so the party was on. Bought all the girls a couple of lady drinks and some food from Kamto’s kitchen. I had two more (or was it three?) drinks and called it a night. I’ve got a tab of just over 3000 pesos to pay when I go out this evening.

Anyway, I did a much better job at controlling my intake and keeping my wits about me. I think Friday was just an aberration.

My neighbor has three big-assed German Shepherds. They always bark like crazy when I walk past his house, but he does keep them securely in his fenced yard. But not this morning. As I was completing my dog walk today, they were all out in the street. When they saw Buddy and Lucky, they went into attack mode. Well, two kind of held back, but one immediately went for Lucky’s throat. He had him pinned and was biting, and I was doing my best to whip him away with my leash. Then Buddy jumped in to defend his little stepbrother, and the Sheperd let go. I’m yelling and screaming and kicking this whole time and somehow didn’t get bit. Then I picked up a rock, and the kraut dog backed off. I scurried my boys into the safety of our yard, and they both seemed to be uninjured. Not the kind of excitement I’m looking for in my life.

The reason I didn’t have much cash last night was that the f’n ATMs in town were out of cash yesterday, at least the two I tried. So this morning, I went to the BPI in Subic town, hoping for a better result. I intended to walk there, but when I hit the highway, I decided the sooner I got to the ATM, the better. The last time I went on a Sunday, there had been a long line, and who knows how much cash was left to dispense. So, I caught a Jeepney instead. When I arrived, both ATMs were operational, and there was no line. I made my withdrawal without issue. Well, I did have to pee, so I walked over to the Jollibee and used their CR.

Then I walked the 6K back to Barretto. And took these photos along the way:

A view from the Subic-town bridge.
And another one.
The place that makes me popular with the ladies.
I don’t go to the bars in Subic. Back in the old Navy days, they were said to be very wild (nude dancing, blowjobs in the bar, etc.) Not many expats in this area, so I’m guessing this bar caters to local Filipinos. I probably wouldn’t fit in with that crowd.
Speaking of BJ’s…
Another river crossing.
Walking the National Highway isn’t my favorite thing to do.
Nice to meat you!
Back in Barretto, and here is the newest restaurant in town. So new it hasn’t opened yet. Hey Kevin, look how they spelled samgyeopsal. What makes me laugh, though, is the name: Samgyupsal By the Bay. And then saying it is a “seafood restaurant.” One of those doesn’t go together.
I hadn’t had breakfast, and I was feeling a tad hungry, so I popped into my old favorite for some grub.
This BLT hit the spot nicely.

You can Relive my morning jaunt here if you’d like:

https://www.relive.cc/view/vJOKpJQRNw6
The walk was only around 6K. The GPS went nuts outside of Sit-n-Bull for some reason.

And that pretty much brings you up to date on my so-called life. There’s more to come, so stay tuned!

UnSOBer

The day began with a group hike out to Tibag and ended in a puddle of vomit. In between, there was the SOB dance competition and too much gin.

The Alaska dancers finished first this week. Damn, Karen (on the right) is as hot as ever.

I arrived at Alaska Club when the doors opened at 5 p.m. and sat at my favorite table. I called one of the dancers not competing in the SOB down to keep me company for the evening. I tried to pace myself by limiting myself to one watered-down gin every thirty minutes. Of course, drinks are free during the event (you pay 700 pesos to get in), and I may have gone off plan to make sure I got my money’s worth of alcohol. Still, when the show ended at 8 p.m. I was still doing fine.

Well, fine enough to walk the half-kilometer up the highway to Wet Spot, where The Aftermath event was taking place. Things are very fuzzy after that. My regular gal, Aine, joined me at my table for drinks. I vaguely remember the trike ride home, but not much else. Aine messaged me this morning to check up on me. She said she had never seen me that drunk before. Told me I had stumbled going up on stage to collect my raffle prize. I didn’t remember that at all. I left early, and she helped me get a trike. I thanked her for taking care of me. It’s scary, though, when you have no recollection of events between arrival and departure.

I got home with my wallet and phone intact. Sat down at my desk and logged into the laptop. Next thing I know, I’m throwing up on the floor. Twice. I guess my helper heard me because she came out of her room, moved me to the couch, and cleaned up my mess. I woke up at 3 a.m. and went into my bedroom and slept some more.

So, that’s me when I’m drunk. Even though I drink some every day, I only get that kind of drunk once or twice a year. I like to remember whatever fun I might have had, and I don’t ever want to be falling down or otherwise losing control of my faculties. And if I’m drunk enough to vomit, I’ve definitely crossed the line.

It’s weird, though, because it didn’t seem like I was drinking to such excess. Again, I buy one shot of gin and have it served in a tall glass. I also buy a can of soda water. I fill the glass with water, have a couple of sips, then refill the glass. I follow that process until I’ve emptied the 12-ounce soda can. So, in reality, I’m probably drinking the equivalent of only a 1/3 shot of gin in each drink. Granted, my night was maybe an hour longer than normal, but that doesn’t really explain my level of inebriation. You know what? I’m going to have to blame this on an adverse reaction to my recent vaccination. Yeah, that’s got to be it!

Anyway, I’m going to try and be a little more cognizant of my intake. I honestly don’t like being drunk. My target is having a comfortable buzz. Maybe I’ll say fuck the beer belly and go back to San Mig Zero. We’ll see.

UPDATE: Just got out of the shower and noticed this beauty from my adventures last night:

It is so weird that I don’t remember this happening at all.

The day began much better than it ended. We don’t get out to Tibag more than a couple of times a year, but it’s always a pleasant place to hike. The only way to get out there is in a private vehicle, so that limits our opportunities to go, especially now that the Hashmobile is no more. We had nine of us (and Max’s dog) in two cars yesterday, and it worked out fine. I’ll let the photos tell the story:

We parked and hiked up the road to Tibag proper, then did a loop and came back down the road again. Right around 10K.
Shall we gather at the river?
Sure, why not?
Bridge #6.
There were some obstacles to overcome along the way.
A warm and sunshiny day for our hike.
Nice to see you, ladies!
What else do you need? Hmm. Electricity. Running water. Internet. Nope, not the life for me.
Tibag itself is a pleasant little community out in the middle of nowhere. I sometimes fantasize about how living in a place like this would be. Just a tad too isolated for me. And no bars. Nope.
The locals and friendly and seem to enjoy their rural life.
A brief rest stop.
Then back into the wild.
Which way do we go?
On the road again.
A man and his dog.
Taking time to smell the flowers.
A hard-working family.
Carabao relaxing in the cool river water.
Waiting on the stragglers.
Here they come…
Glad you could join us!

That’s how I spent my day yesterday. A walkaholic by day and an alcoholic when the sun goes down. Or so it would appear. I can and will do better.

Seven bridges road

Not much to report regarding my activities since my previous post. But here goes anyway.

Started my evening at Blue Butterfly, where I once again shared drinks and convo with Tanya. She had a small taste of the brownies I brought her, said they were good, and told me she would be taking them home to her daughter. Fine by me.

I thought that cloud formation looked unusual.
So I zoomed in and decided it must be the end of the world as we know it. Turns out it wasn’t.

A couple of more drinks at Cheap Charlies, then I got a message from Snackbar that Ron was wanting me to join him there. Sure, why not? I met a friend of his who is a musician, and we had a grand time talking about music from the good ol’ days. I was drafted for DJ duties, and the first request was for Elton John. Before I could queue up the second request, Spotify started playing the next tune (I don’t remember which one), and everyone wanted to hear that. Same with the next and the ones after. I guess Spotify knew what we were in the mood to listen to. Anyway, it was a fun way to pass some time before I headed home for the night.

I did my standard Thursday walk, basically out to Naugsol and back. Wound up crossing the river on bridge #4, then again on bridge #2, and a final crossing on bridge #1. Today our group hike started at bridge #6, and we hiked to Tibag and back, passing bridge #7 along the way. Hence, the convoluted title for this post.

I took a few pics on yesterday’s hike:

Easter mountain as seen from Alta Vista.
A cow not quite blocking my path. I gave him a wide berth anyway.
Passed through the Marian Hills neighborhood.
Heading into the Naugsol valley on puddled roads.
Bridge #4.
Sawmill road in San Isidro.
Bridge #2
The river that runs under all the bridges on this trek.
Bridge #1

Just for clarity purposes, the Hashers have labeled all the bridges that run alongside Sawmill road sequentially. This helps with giving trail directions, “just start at bridge #3 and turn right after crossing the river…”

Sawmill road in Santo Tomas.
The rocky path I take when shortcutting to my house on Shenandoah Bend.

Feel free to Relive the hike if you’d like to see more.

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

Here it is, Friday again, and that means I’ll be heading out later for another SOB adventure. Tonight’s venue is Alaska Club, one of my favorites. I’ll be back tomorrow with a full report.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hufU6MIS2vw&t=3s

The cost of freedom

Find the cost of freedom
Buried in the ground
Mother Earth will swallow you
Lay your body down
Yes, I capitulated.

I got the jab yesterday. I went with Sinovac, the one my anti-vaxx doctor said was the least damaging. No side effects that I’ve noticed so far unless sleeping in until 7:00 a.m. (I’m usually up at 4:30) is vaccine-related. I need to get a second dose next month to be considered “fully vaccinated.”

I’m not happy about having to forfeit my bodily autonomy to a bullshit government edict, but the choice came down to submission or losing my freedom to come and go as I please. Well, I can travel almost anywhere in my unvaxxed state of being, but the Philippines will not permit tourists to enter the country without being fully vaccinated. Of course, the fact that the vaccines don’t work doesn’t matter; it is do as you are told or stay away. For better or worse, this is my home, and I want to be able to return. My tourist visa expires in December, so I just ran out of time waiting for some level of sanity to be implemented. Oh well, life goes on. Hopefully.

I have a friend named Cathy whom I’ve never met in Bohol (an island several hours away). If I recall, I found her several years ago on a dating website (prior to my move here). Even though I didn’t feel any romantic connection, we’ve continued to stay in touch and occasionally chat. And yes, I’ve helped her out financially from time to time. She’s a widow with a ten-year-old son, and I’ve agreed to be his “sponsor” and pay his school tuition and expenses. It’s not that big a deal, but it means a lot to her, and if it helps the boy have a successful life, then it is money well spent.

Anyway, Cathy read those poems I posted yesterday on Facebook and sent me a message asking why I didn’t become a writer. Heh, she’s easily pleased; no wonder I like her. I told her that I had wanted to be a journalist but didn’t have the money to attend college. Her response made me feel good:

Torres Zafra Cathy

Even though your not a journalist but you helped many people who are in need around you. And I’m one of them of those people who are so blessed to have you as our benifactor. The words thank you is not enough how thankful I am to have you sir. Your such a blessing for us.

Glad to help when I can, Cathy. One of the reasons I moved here was to make a difference, even in a small way. If things are better for some because I am here, then there is some purpose to my life.

Thanks for indulging me in the mental health moment above. Let’s get on to the good stuff.

The pot roast came out close to perfect.
A measure of “goodness” for me is the tenderness of the beef. I judge that by my ability to cut it with my fork. I deem yesterday’s effort a success in that regard.
The cornbread fresh out of the oven.
I deem it close enough to perfect for me.

Wednesday was feeding day for the girls at Hideaway bar. I had a pizza delivered and decided to change the brownie routine and try some cupcakes instead.

Nice and moist and chocolaty. The girls seemed to really enjoy them.

After a few drinks for Joy and me at Hideaway, I headed up the highway to Blue Butterfly. My mission: to learn more about the “exotic” woman a couple of my commenters had noticed at last week’s Hash.

Her work name is Tanya, and she goes by Rose with friends and family.

So, what’s the story? Tanya is twenty-four years old and has one child, a four-year-old daughter. Her Filipino boyfriend and father of her child abdicated his responsibility as a parent, and now Tanya works to support her family. That’s a pretty typical story in these parts.

But I came away from my meeting really feeling that Tanya is something special. First of all, she is intelligent and articulate. Prior to being dumped, she was going to school to study secondary education. Those dreams died along with her relationship. She says now her life revolves around her daughter–she works and goes home every night to be with her child. Yep, that’s what good moms do.

I really wanted to explore her heritage and try to discover why she doesn’t have a “typical” Filipina look about her. She was born and raised here in Subic. She told me the story of only recently discovering her mother was, in fact, her stepmother. Apparently, right when she was born, her father took her and raised her with his wife, who became the stepmom. All she knows about her “real” mother is that she worked in a bar in Subic. But both her father and mother were pure Filipinos, so that, I guess, dispels my theory that she might be of mixed blood.

Anyway, I really did enjoy chatting with Tanya. Very open and honest, and interesting. She got pretty excited when she found out I have a blog and wrote down the name so she could read it later. I tried to warn her that she was bound to be disappointed. I guess she’ll find out for herself.

Nice to see you again, Tanya. I hope you like brownies; I just baked you some.
Soon to be delivered.

Not much else to say about my night. I finished up at Snackbar and ran into my pal Ron. He was there with his new girlfriend. She was kind of shy but cute.

Oh, and pretty tiny too.

Of course, the other thing I did yesterday was the Wednesday Walkers hike. We got a break from the rain during the course of our walk, so that was nice. We kept it mostly flat and paved anyway, and just a tad over 7K. Here are some photos:

Our path for the day.
Gathering at our usual meeting place, the Baloy 7/11
Heading out to the Subic side of the river on the highway.
Then up the stairs…
On and on they went.
Are we there yet?
A brief respite at the top.
Thank you, Mother Mary, for keeping us safe.
A view from up top.
Slippery when wet and muddy.
What the duck is going on here?
Yeah, we’re waiting for you…
Those dogs didn’t seem too happy to see us pass by…
Back on the highway, everyone’s least favorite portion of the hike.
Into a ‘hood.
And onto the beach.
The tide was high.
Timing was everything…
But most of us wound up with wet feet.
Boats on the shore.
Boats in the water.
Laundry day…
Solitary man.
Into Matain barangay.
Laundry day here too…
Where do you get your water? “Well…”
Yes, they got cookies…
This is what too much drinking in the morning will do to you.
We finished our hike with some lunch at Kamto…

All in all, a good day. Except for the needle and the damage it may have done.

Tuesday’s gone

But I’m still here to tell you about it.

I went to immigration first thing in the morning to get a replacement for my Alien Certificate of Registration (ACR) card. Three thousand pesos and a three-week wait, but I ain’t going nowhere just yet, so that won’t be a problem.

When I got to Royal for shopping, I realized I’d need to replace my rewards card. No big deal, but I did have a thousand pesos worth of points, so I paid the 25 pesos for a new card and then cashed in my points. So the morning wasn’t a total loss.

Got back home and delved into some memories Facebook shared with me.

Like my old buddy Duke’s going away party at Hooters in Gangnam nine years ago. Korean gals aren’t known for their hooters, and from what I’m told, Hooters no longer operates in Seoul.

And then there were the poems. I’m pretty sure I posted these here on the blog at some point, but I had to endure them again, and now so do you:

Alone

Alone in my fantasies
Alone with my dreams
But when I wake with the dawning
One sullen fact remains
That I am alone in my love for you---
The sun doesn't shine; it rains.
The Only Way

Perhaps the best way
Is your way
Maybe the best belief
Is not to believe
Maybe the only answer
Is no answer
And maybe the only time
Is this time...
And yet,
Why can't our love
Be the only love?

Okay, cut me a little slack; I wrote those almost 50 years ago as a lovelorn high school student. The really sad part is that all these years later, the words still resonate in my tortured soul. I’ve still got a lot to learn when it comes to love. Ah well, at least I haven’t given up!

My helper doesn’t cook for me all that often (my choice), but she made me a healthy lunch yesterday:

Chicken and veggies…yum!

Speaking of food, I’ve got a pot roast in the crock pot. We’ll see how that turns out. And no, I didn’t use frozen beef this time. Pictures tomorrow.

I started my gin and soda tour sitting alone at the beach bar at Mango’s. It had been quite a while since I enjoyed the solitude of watching the bay while I imbibed my beverage of choice.

That’s the way it looked from my stool.

But man does not live by drink alone, and after a while, I craved some company. So, it was off to Cheap Charlies for me. Not many customers early on a Tuesday, so I had my choice of female companionship. I was in one of those moods where I didn’t want to leave anyone out, so I wound up with four drinking buddies.

I’m a lucky man when my pockets are full.

But even full pockets won’t last long when you are quenching the thirst of four young ladies. So, I exercised my discretion and moved down the highway to Kamto. I hadn’t seen my favorite, Lydell, for quite some time, and being full of liquid courage, I decided to find out if she might be interested in someone like me as a boyfriend.

That’s her on the right.

She’s good at what she does but does have the decency to not out and out lie to someone. I’m not sure what exactly was said (I’d had more than a few drinks by this point), but when I woke up this morning, I somehow knew that my next foray into romance would not be with Lydell. So good luck to us both in our future endeavors that will be on our own.

Alone again, naturally. I hope it comes through that I’m doing much better of late. I’m ready for whatever happens next and not afraid to take steps to make that happen. That’s about as positive as I get.

Oh, and I had a nice chat yesterday with an old friend from the Korea days who is also a daily reader of the blog. He offered some words of encouragement, we talked about life in the Philippines (he used to be a frequent visitor), and I enjoyed hearing his stories from the good ol’ days. It was a good reminder that many of my readers are following along, and I’m not really as alone as I sometimes feel. Thanks for that!

Where eagles dare

A rain-soaked Hash yesterday. Light rain when we started, heavy by the end. There were two trail options: the “turkey trail” and the “eagle trail.” I took the high-hard route for some reason. It got a little dicey towards the finish as everything was soaked and muddy. I bailed on the last hill climb because it just felt too dicey. But considering the elements, it was a nice challenge to get as far as I did.

The On-Home was at Fireman’s (Todd’s) house, and he had food catered from the kitchen at It Doesn’t Matter brought in. It was all good and a very generous gesture to feed forty-odd wet and hungry Hashers. Here are some photos from the day:

The day’s wet path. There was a beer stop in Marian Hills. From there, you could choose to be a turkey and walk back on roads, or you could soar like an eagle up into the hills. Or be like me and do something in between those two extremes.
Gathering up at the VFW.
Let the wetness begin!
The streets were wet, and before long, so were we.
A backway into Alta Vista.
On the streets in my neighborhood.
Leaving Alta Vista behind.
Early on, I was surprised it wasn’t more slippery. Later I wished it wasn’t.
Upsy daisy.
Heading for the hills–Marian Hills, that is.
Turkeys to the right, eagles to the left.
Gathering up at the beer stop, also generously supplied by Fireman.
I personally didn’t partake. I like my walkin’, and I like my drinkin’. Just not at the same time.
A sloppy climb up from Marian Hills, but taking a pause to view the rain-soaked Easter mountain.
What’s Up Doc pauses to pose.
Wet and wild.
Country livin’.
Our trail didn’t cross this bridge. Probably just as well.
Passing through my mountain family friend’s place. It’s still surprising to be greeted by the kids by name.
The spread Fireman provided.
Our gracious On-Home host.
It was pouring down rain during our Hash circle.
But the Hash goes on, rain or shine.

It will be hot again eventually, and I’ll be able to stop complaining about the rain. On those sweaty days, I’ll be longing for the cooling feeling of a rain-soaked shirt.

Life is all about taking the bad with the good. And everything in between.

Manifest destiny

Sunday is feeding day at Hideaway Bar. The last time I brought the Chooks to Go roasted chicken, Joy suggested I get the fried chicken version next time instead. So yesterday, I just gave her the money and told her to get whatever the girls like.

Two boxes, eleven pieces to the box. Around 500 pesos total. Not bad.
Joy seemed to enjoy her dinner. The other girls did too, so money well spent, I suppose.

Nothing else of interest about my night. Drinks at IDM, Outback, and Queen Victoria as I made my way home. Yawn.

This morning I got bored with taking naps, so I turned on the television. I randomly scrolled through the Netflix offerings, then clicked on a show called Manifest. Probably too soon to call it my destiny–I watched one episode of what is a three-season (so far) series. We’ll see if I get around to the second episode. I have a notoriously limited attention span. An interesting concept, though–a planeload of folks suddenly reappeared after being missing for five years, but for the passengers, time had stood still. The lead actress is a hottie, so there’s that going for it.

It’s a rainy Hash Monday, so that should make for an interesting trail. I did a neighborhood walk this morning and noticed trail markings here in the neighborhood. We’ll see what the Hares have in store for us. Hopefully, nothing too steep and slippery.

That’s all I’ve got for you today.

A friend with something extra

I hope the day will be a lighter highway
For friends are found on every road
Can you ever think of any better way
For the lost and weary travellers to go

Making friends for the world to see
Let the people know you got what you need
With a friend at hand you will see the light
If your friends are there then everything's all right

Another Saturday night out on the town. IDM and Wet Spot were my venues of choice for drowning my sorrows. In between the two, I had me some grub at Sit-n-Bull.

The classic roast beer dinner. The meat was “cut it with a fork,” tender and flavorful. The sides were excellent as well.

Had a nice chat with Daddy Dave at Wet Spot. He’s still going strong at 80+ and hasn’t let a little thing like last week’s skin cancer surgery slow him down any. He’s quite the inspiration. I mentioned that I have a birthday coming up this month, and we got a good laugh about me being nine years old when he earned his bachelor’s degree in 1964. Dave went on to have a career in medicine before building his business empire here in the Philippines over twenty years ago. He splits his time between Barretto and Manila and still maintains a residence in Amsterdam as well. Probably the most interesting character in town.

Speaking of friends, I made a new one on Facebook recently. I get friend requests all the time from people I’ve never met, but I’ll generally accept them, provided we have some mutual friends in common. Now, that’s pretty much as far as it usually goes, although occasionally, I’ll engage in some chit-chat. And so it was with “Angel,” who comes across as both friendly and articulate. We were exchanging messages this morning, and on a whim, I suggested we get to know one another better. It just seems to me a good way to break out of my current funk by meeting someone new, and who knows, maybe we’d click romantically. I’ve been thinking a girlfriend might be just what I need. I suggested we get together for lunch this afternoon, and she agreed.

That photo is from Angel’s Facebook page, and it is pretty much all I know about her. Seems cute enough.

“Where are we going to meet?” she asked. How about Mango’s? “Are you sure?” Um, why? Is there somewhere else you prefer? “No, it’s not that. Are you comfortable meeting me in a public place? You know I’m transgender, right?”

Oh shit. No, I didn’t know that. She pointed out that it says so on her Facebook profile, but somehow I had missed that. I told her I really appreciated her honesty and that I’m not one to judge, but I just don’t swing that way. She was gracious and understanding. I’m glad I didn’t find out she was a girl with something extra the “hard” way. And I won’t have to answer the question, “why did you think she was a real girl?” by saying, “I don’t know, I could just feel it inside me.”

So, my first tentative steps back into the dating life didn’t quite turn out the way I imagined. I’ll need to do a better job vetting potential dates in the future. “What has she gots in her pocketses?” as Gollum would have the good sense to ask.

And if dodging a bullet wasn’t exercise enough, I took a nice 6.5K walk this morning.

Leaving the neighborhood.
It’s rainy season, so dodging puddles is part of the adventure.
A river crossing.
An Easter mountain sighting.
And back on the National Highway headed home.

You can Relive the walk here:

https://www.relive.cc/view/vdvmKZWPgN6
It wasn’t 8.14; something went haywire with my tracker at the end.

And that pretty much is all I have to say about the way things are around here.

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any worse

It does. What a fucked up piece of shit yesterday turned out to be.

My Fitbit died. Not even six months old. That’s the third (and last) Charge 5 I’ve purchased, and they all wound up dying for no explicable reason. I’ve been a loyal Fitbit customer since I first started walking back in 2015. I do believe the time has come for me to give Garmin a try.

Of course, that’s nothing compared with what was to come. No one else was up for a walk on Friday, so I headed out on my own. I was suffering from a serious lack of motivation, but I did manage to do the Baloy Beach walk. Even avoided the temptation to catch a trike on the way back home. Only about 5K all in, but that was better than the nothing I felt like doing.

A group shot of the Friday hikers.

I spent the rest of the day being lazy, taking several naps, and not doing much else besides posting on the blog. Well, I did do my ab exercises, so I wasn’t a total zero.

And then, it came time to shower up and get ready for my Friday night, featuring the SOB dance competition. I put on a fresh pair of shorts and, as usual, transferred the contents from the pockets of the previous day’s shorts. Keys, inhaler, hanky, wallet…wait a minute, where the fuck is my wallet? Okay, no need to panic. It made it home with me (I paid for the trike), and I had it that morning (gave my helper cash for meds), so it had to be around here somewhere. Except that it wasn’t. It made no sense. I thought back to the only time I’d been out of the house, my morning walk, but the wallet had never left my pocket. Oh, wait, yes, it did. I had seen “mama” on the Beach road and gave her the usual 100 peso donation. I must have somehow failed to make sure the wallet was securely back in my pocket before walking on. Well, if I had any hopes that some honest passerby would try to return the wallet, I know now that was just a foolish dream. It’s gone for good.

The contents included around 3000 pesos, my Chase credit card I use for grocery shopping, my alien registration card, and some other less valuable items. I’ve canceled the credit card (no one had tried to use it, at least) and will have to figure out the best way to get the replacement mailed here. I’ll go to immigration next week and see what the process for replacing the ARC involves–the card also doubles as my ID. Luckily, I wasn’t carrying my debit card, so I still have access to cash via ATMs.

Needless to say, losing my wallet was a real kick in the nuts, and given my current state of mind was especially painful. I just need to suck it up and deal with the inconvenience my own stupidity has brought about.

Despite my crushed spirit, I headed on out to the SOB at Queen Victoria. I was the first to arrive, which is good because that allows me to choose a seat with the best view. Except EVERY table surrounding the stage had a “reserved” sign. WTF? I mean, I get having a VIP table, but to relegate everyone except the “in crowd” to the second-tier seating is pure bullshit. I called a waitress over, but she just shrugged it off, saying they had “called ahead.” Hmm. I was there an hour early and would have spent that time drinking and spending money; they opted for empty tables instead. I told them the lack of front-row seating was unacceptable and left. So, the bad day just got worse. No SOB for me this week.

I had no idea what to do next except try to kill the pain with copious amounts of alcohol. Cheap Charlies would work for that. I had a pretty gal seated on each side of me and plied them with drinks while I sucked down my gin and sodas. My plan succeeded better than expected, and I was drunk before 8 p.m. So, I went home and went to bed.

Today I seem to have a bit more energy and maintained a brisk 12-minute kilometer pace on my morning walk.

It’s good to be back.

My sinuses have also cleared up, which is quite a relief. I’m so impressed with these doctors I’ve found; they healed with meds and vitamins what another doctor wanted to handle through surgery. It pays to shop around.

So, now it is time to put these setbacks behind me and move on to the next big thing. I’m not sure what that might be, but this morning I found myself contemplating the wisdom of dating again. I really think some (unpaid-for) female companionship may be just the thing to get me out of my head. Hey, what could go wrong?

That sounds familiar

Why wouldn’t it? Yesterday was pretty much like every other day around here. We’ll see about changing things up one day soon. In the meantime, I continue to plod along. I did an 8K walk out to Naugsol and back. I was ready to bail and catch a trike about halfway through, but I somehow managed to talk myself out of doing so. As I alluded to in my post yesterday, I’ve come to realize that this “no energy” symptom may not be physical after all–it might be all in my head. Not sure just how you go about fixing that, though. Today every time I’ve felt tired, I’ve gone and laid down for a while. It hasn’t helped much; I’m still exhausted when I get up again. I’m definitely tired of this bullshit, that’s for sure.

Nothing special about my night out on the town either. Other than it seemed more boring than usual. IDM for a couple, then across the highway to Cheap Charlies for a few more.

A new gal to keep me company, Diane. She was actually pretty fun to hang with.

Finished up at Wet Spot again.

It’s SOB Friday, so at least that will be something different. Tonight’s event is at Queen Victoria for the first time ever. I assume they will use the band stage (it’s a live band venue normally) as the dance floor. I’ll let you know how it goes.

So, yeah, I need to pick my ass up and find some new ways to start enjoying my life again. Travel is something I want to do for sure, and I’m thinking my first trip in-country will be to Bohol. I’m also running out of time to leave the country to renew my visa, so it looks like a worthless vaccination is in my near future.

Ah, well. It’s all part of the adventure, I suppose.

I want a new drug
One that won't make me sick
One that won't make me crash my car
Or make me feel three feet thick

I want a new drug
One that won't hurt my head
One that won't make my mouth too dry
Or make my eyes too red

One that won't make me nervous
Wondering what to do
One that makes me feel like I feel when I'm with you
When I'm alone with you

I want a new drug
One that won't spill
One that don't cost too much
Or come in a pill

I want a new drug
One that won't go away
One that won't keep me up all night
One that won't make me sleep all day

One that won't make me nervous
Wondering what to do
One that makes me feel like I feel when I'm with you
When I'm alone with you
I'm alone with you, baby

I want a new drug
One that does what it should
One that won't make me feel too bad
One that won't make me feel too good

I want a new drug
One with no doubt
One that won't make me talk too much
Or make my face break out

One that won't make me nervous
Wondering what to do
One that makes me feel like I feel when I'm with you
When I'm alone with you
I'm alone with you

To live is to fly

That’s how it feels to be me sometimes.

Another day, another step forward. I actually had two acquaintances inquire as to my well-being–my state of mind rather than my physical health. Apparently, I’ve been wearing my heart on my sleeve of late. Yeah, I’m borderline depressed these days, which might explain some of the issues I’ve been dealing with. Not to worry, I’ve been in deeper and darker places. Just one more hole to crawl out of.

Nothing particularly noteworthy about my evening out. Fed the crew at Hideaway bar and finished my night at Wet Spot, where I drank alone. My regular gal had treated me rudely during my previous visit, so I told her last night I had no interest in her company. She seemed taken aback, but I’m in my grumpy phase and have a lack of tolerance for BS. I had the same amount of fun for half the money!

On my walk this morning, I heard a song by Townes Van Zandt for the first time: To Live Is To Fly. I see now that it was recorded in 1972; I must have been busy being a senior in high school or something. Anyway, it spoke to my weary brain all these years later.

Living's mostly wasting time
And I'll waste my share of mine
But it never feels to good,
So let's don't take to long.
You're soft as glass
And I'm a gentle man;
We got the sky to talk about
And the earth to lie upon.

Days, up and down they come
Like rain on a conga drum
Forget most, remember some
But don't turn none away.
Everything is not enough
And nothin' is to much to bear.
Where you been is good and gone
All you keep is the getting there.

To live is to fly
Low and high,
So shake the dust off of your wings
And the sleep out of your eyes.

Our Wednesday Walkers hike was an 8K endeavor, mostly on pavement, with a long stair climb. I was plenty tired at the end. Here are some photos:

The path we took.
Heading out.
We spent most of our time on the Subic side of the river.
Only five of us this week. And a dog.
Up the stairs, we go.
Some cookie kids along the way.
Up top.
More kids to satiate.
My work here is finished.
Hello again.
Trash day.
Kids on a trike.
The long and winding road.
The Black Rock we bypassed.
Heading home.
The last up to Alta Vista.
Catching a breath.

And that’s the way it went down yesterday. Stick around and see what happens next!

Pure Gold

Life keeps moving forward, and as long as you are on that train, the best you can do is enjoy the ride.

Facebook reminded me today of a different train I used to ride: The Virginia Railway Express (VRE). During another version of my life, I used to commute from Quantico in Virginia to L’Enfant Station in DC to my job at the US Department of Education.

I took this photo on the occasion of my very last ride home from work before moving to Seoul. Yeah, I had lots more train rides ahead of me in the Land of the Morning Calm, but I was glad to be done with this one.

I did my grocery shopping at the PureGold supermarket this week. It’s good to change things up occasionally, and sometimes I can procure some otherwise hard-to-find items that Royal doesn’t stock. Not so much yesterday; one item I needed was some dental flossers. For some unfathomable reason, Royal never has them. Up until yesterday, I’ve always been able to stock up on floss at PureGold, but nope, none to be found. Yeah, I know; if that is my biggest complaint, I’m doing pretty damn good.

After shopping, I had my driver take me and Buddy to visit the vet. Buddy’s been scratching his ears and walking around shaking his head like a crazy person for a couple of weeks now. Figured it was time to get it checked out. The vet diagnosed an ear infection and provided some droplets and pills. And this:

So, yeah, he’s not scratching anymore, but I really don’t like it. Seems almost cruel somehow.

He seems to be getting used to it, though.

In the afternoon, I had a massage but declined the offered “happy ending.” I guess that illustrates that I’m still feeling out of sorts better than anything else I might say. I’m just not in the mood.

As a quick update, all the physical symptoms are gone–no more fever and no more aches and pains. Now I’m just tired. How tired? I’m taking naps throughout the day. Up at five this morning doing my internet routines, and by six, I felt the need to lay back down and rest. So, it’s not even an issue of being physically tired. Just mentally fatigued. I did an 8K walk this morning, which wasn’t easy, but the hardest part was forcing myself to get out there and do it. My body is capable; my mind isn’t willing. My plan is just to walk it off.

One bright note which may or may not be related is that I don’t have much appetite these days. Or at least I don’t feel hungry much. Weigh-in this morning finds me at 206.9. I’ve lost more weight in the one week since I’ve been sick than I did in the three previous weeks of my diet. So, there’s a silver lining, at least.

Last night I did some water with gin at IDM, Cheap Charlies, and Hot Zone. I was the only customer at Hot Zone, and when I left, I gave the dancers and waitresses 50 pesos each to remember me.

I finished my night at Outback, where once again, I was the only customer in the place. The girls were all looking at me thirstily, and I eventually relented and bought them a round of drinks. Yeah, I’m a soft touch, but I don’t mind. Getting a drink commission means a lot more to them than the money does to me.

Can’t you just feel the love?

There you have another snapshot from my so-called life. I’m hoping I get over this being tired thing soon. I’m tired of it. Now I need another nap.

Dizzy Hash

I came. I climbed. I slipped, I fell. But I accomplished my goal of completing the trail. Well, the “sane” hashers version of the trail, which, as is our custom, contained some shortcuts and deviations. Still, I hung with the group, a little slower than normal, but that wasn’t unexpected. What was different for me was experiencing some lightheadedness during the main climb of the day, which manifested itself as a feeling of being unbalanced.

A light rain began falling just before we headed out, and I overcame the urge to use that as an excuse to bail out of the hike. I did feel obligated to at least try. The rain put a fine glaze on the mud, which made for some slippery going, especially on the big downhill portion of the trial. I eventually lost my feet and came down hard on my ass, but luckily I landed in mud and not on a rock.

The On-Home was at Blue Butterfly, and I sat in the outdoor area for my pre-circle beer drinking, as did many of the other Hashers. Speaking of beer drinking, I had another example of my sense of taste being potentially altered–I did not like the flavor of my old favorite San Mig Zero. Kind of a bitter aftertaste, and even after several bottles, the flavor still sucked. Weird.

The AC was blasting inside, and I was still wet with sweat, so I made the decision not to participate in the circle. I did get called in to sit on the ice for my Hash crash which seemed out of order to me, and I groused about it some. Yeah, I wasn’t kidding that another aftereffect of this illness has been to make me grumpier than usual. Oh well, this, too, shall pass.

The trail as envisioned by the Hares.
Waiting to get started.
Let the climbing begin…
There are worse ups, but that doesn’t make the one you are doing easy.
One step at a time.
Catching a breath stop.
The end of the beginning is near.
Almost there.
One of the best Barretto viewpoints around.
That’s more like it!
Whatever You Want in the grass.
On-On!
Pausing for a group shot of the “sane” Hashers.
For you Easter mountain fans.
Downtime.
Bridging the gap.
I was hoping for a Goodyear.
Back On-Home at Blue Butterfly.
Guys chillin’.
Gals goofin’.

And so endeth another Hash adventure.

Strange daze

The march to normality continues. I did a 3.5K neighborhood walk, then hoofed it to the far side of town to give the gals at Hideway their Sunday dinner–pizza and brownies this week. One of the waitresses mentioned that it looked like I’d lost weight. She said my face was skinnier, like I’d been sick. Well, it’s my belly I want to lose, but it seems to be holding out just fine.

It had been a while since my last visit to Cheap Charlies, so I made that my next stop. I was happy to see my new old favorite Roseanne was working. She was cheerful and friendly and full of laughter at my lame attempts to be funny–in other words, she was doing her job the way it is supposed to be done. She confided that the other girls were afraid to join me because I looked grumpy. Yeah, matter of fact, I have been grumpier than normal. While I was at Hideaway, my former love was texting me about her new love. Not the one she dumped me for; that didn’t work out, either. Not that it matters, I was always going to be her second choice, and that will never be good enough for me. And while I appreciate her honesty, I’m understanding why it is hard to maintain a friendship with an ex-love.

I also got a text from an old friend who wants to move back to Barretto and needs some assistance with getting a place to live. I was happy to agree to help.

One of the things I like about Cheap Charlies, besides the view, is the music is a good mix played at an appropriate volume (loud enough to be heard and enjoyed, but not so loud as to impede conversation). And an old Creedence song, Hey Tonight, caught my ear. It was a popular song back in the day, but not a huge hit like Proud Mary or Fortunate Son. You hear those songs often over the years, but it had been maybe thirty years since I’d listened to Hey Tonight. It’s probably the closest to time travel I’ll ever get, but hearing it again carried me back to the wild times I spent in the 1970s. It was a good trip to go there again.

Just as I was fixin’ to call it a night, the skies opened up, and a downpour ensued. Nothing to be done but order up another round of drinks. As I was sipping my soda water with a dash of gin, a stranger approached and said, “you’re McCrarey, right?” He was in town for a visit and had Googled ‘Barretto bars,’ and my humble blog was one of the featured results. Nice to meet you, Dan. Hope you enjoy your visit. These encounters with readers I don’t know are rare, maybe once a year or so, but it is a little disconcerting to be reminded I’m not as anonymous as I imagine myself to be.

I rather enjoyed this FB post from my younger brother:

An atheist was seated next to a dusty old cowboy on an airplane, and he turned to him and said, “Do you want to talk? Flights go quicker if you strike up a conversation with your fellow passenger.”
The old cowboy, who had just started to read his book, replied to the total stranger, “What would you want to talk about?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said the atheist. “How about why there is no God, or no Heaven or Hell, or no life after death?” as he smiled smugly.
“Okay,” he said. “Those could be interesting topics, but let me ask you a question first. A horse, a cow, and a deer all eat the same stuff, grass. Yet a deer excretes little pellets, while a cow turns out a flat patty, but a horse produces clumps. Why do you suppose that is?”
The atheist, visibly surprised by the old cowboy’s intelligence, thinks about it and says, “Hmmm, I have no idea.” To which the cowboy replies, “Do you really feel qualified to discuss God, Heaven, and Hell, or life after death, when you don’t know shit?”

Still feeling blah this morning, but I did my dog walking duty on a rainy morning.

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now, from up and down, but still somehow…
… it’s cloud illusions, I recall…
…I really don’t know clouds at all.

Hash Monday is upon me, and I’ve still not adequately tested my ability to endure. I’m going to wing today and see how it goes. I’ll bail whenever it feels like “too much, too soon.” That’s the best I can do. Assuming I survive, I’ll be back with a full report tomorrow.

Hey, Tonight,
Gonna be tonight,
Don't you know I'm flyin'
Tonight, tonight.
Hey, c'mon,
Gonna chase tomorrow
Tonight, tonight.

Gonna get it to the rafters,
Watch me now.
Jody's gonna get religion
All night long.

Low voltage

I’m not sure what’s going on. All the other manifestations of my recent illness have receded except for this lack of energy–the old “my get up and go, got up and went” saw. Well, I’m still having mushy brain syndrome, an example of which is my fingers don’t push the keyboard letters in the order my mind tells them to. My nasal sinuses, which have been clogged for months, are finally beginning to open up–I’d say maybe as much as 50%. That makes breathing more convenient, but I’m also regaining my sense of smell. That’s not always good. And I have no idea what this is related to, if anything, but all of a sudden, Coke Zero doesn’t taste good to me anymore. Weird times.

Yesterday afternoon I headed into town, but I was surprised by my own lack of enthusiasm for doing so. Well, the rain dampened my mood, but it was more than that; I just wasn’t feeling it. I went anyway because I wanted to drop into Alaska Club and wish owner Jerry a happy birthday. I arrived before they opened, so I kept walking until I reached IDM. There were people I knew to meet and greet, and once I settled in, my negativity evaporated. I had three drinks (the way I mix them, it is water with a splash of gin) and headed for Alaska.

I wished Jerry a happy birthday and bought him a beer, and ponied up to a table. A few more dancers than usual, and one them kept giving me an “I know you” look. I looked back and shrugged, and she was like, “C’mon!”. This pantomime continued for several minutes until I finally called her down for a drink. She did look vaguely familiar, but I had no idea why. Turns out she used to work at IDM and would sometimes drink with my crush Roan and me. Waitresses come and go constantly there, and honestly, while I remembered her, she didn’t stand out in my mind.

Nice to see you again, Joy.

We had a nice chat, and she could hold her own in the witty repartee exchange. She is not the cutest girl around by a long shot, but she has a pretty hot body. Especially when you consider that she’s pumped out SIX babies! Mind-boggling.

Jerry had a nice buffet brought in. He blew out some candles, we sang him a song, and chowed down. I finished my third drink and said my goodnights. I did achieve my daily step goal (15,000), so I took that as a good sign. Was in bed before 8:30 and woke up refreshed and ready for action after an 8-hour sleep. Or so I had hoped.

I couldn’t even make it through my morning internet ritual before I felt the need to lie down and rest my weary head. Thirty minutes later, I was back at it until the urge to put my head on a pillow overwhelmed me once again. I did get up to feed and walk the dogs, and I had grand plans to push myself on my morning hike in preparation for tomorrow’s Hash. Then it started raining, and I knew the walk I had in mind wasn’t happening. I did have an alternative plan, and it involved sleeping some more. Maybe that’s why I’m so tired?

So, that’s where things stand. I’ll do a neighborhood stroll this afternoon before I head into Barretto. I hope I turn the corner tomorrow and can do the Hash. I’ll play it by ear, but I’m sure I can find an alternative route if the trail is too tough for my weak old body. I’ll be glad to put this behind me. I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.

Back in the saddle

More or less. Whatever it was they injected into me; the result was damn near miraculous. I was still feeling weak and unsteady, so last night I opted to visit the bar nearest my place (Snackbar) and two others on the same block (Outback and Queen Victoria). I took it slow and easy, starting early and finishing early, and that seemed to work out well.

I woke up this morning still feeling some residual effects from my viral infection, A little pain in my head that some aspirin brought under control, and a reduced energy level that makes everything more difficult, especially motivation to get off my ass and do something.

I have my own little drug store now, and my real concern is not knowing how these various pills interact with each other. I’m assuming there are all safe and effective, but you can never be sure.
I did find the energy to walk my boys for the first time in 4 days (my helper had taken that task over during my incapacity).

I hadn’t walked myself in four days either, so I set about seeing what I had in me. Before I got sick, my standard Saturday hike was on the backstreets of Barretto. It’s around 8K and mostly flat. I figured I could give it a go and always bail if it got to be too much. And after 3K, I knew I wasn’t ready, so I eliminated the Abra street and Columban College loops. Left me with a 5K trail, and that was good enough for this tired old man.

My abbreviated path. I can usually do these streets in just over a12 minute pace. I definitely wasn’t up to speed this morning.
Hello, my old friend. Long time no see!
The National Highway at 1.6K
Gomez street at 3.2K.
Back in Alta Vista at 4.8
Made it home!

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

https://www.relive.cc/view/vYvrLo3zKx6

I hadn’t been home long when my doctor sent a message saying the lab report on my blood work had been received. She asked if I could come to the office to discuss some potential issues. That made me a little nervous, but what am I going to do?

Dr. Jo’s main area of concern is that my blood platelets are almost off the charts low, and not in a good way. I’m currently at 77, and the “low normal” is 150. She urged me to be careful when I’m out because a fall or a cut could result in excessive bleeding. Yeah, one more thing to worry about. We are going to continue to monitor this stat, and I’ll do a follow-up lab in a couple of weeks.

And that’s pretty much where things stand as of now. It’s Saturday night, so naturally, I’m going out, but my enthusiasm level is pretty low. The fact of the matter is I’m just so damn tired all the time. Doc says that will pass as my body defeats the virus; here’s hoping that’s soon.

My grammar and writing are so poor you probably won’t notice, but his post has been a comedy of errors. My fingers can’t seem to find the right keys. Here’s hoping for a better tomorrow!