Yesterday I walked through the rain so I could get my requisite steps in. Then my phone chirps and I have a message from my “stalker” with this photo:
I had on my headphones and was focused on the task at hand, so I had no idea someone I knew had spotted me on the road. Ah, the joys of small town living. Everyone knows your business.
I made it to the river without further incident. The bugs were biting. Not mosquitoes who tend to be stealthy, but some kind of biting fly. Going to have to remember to spray on the off next time I’m on the water.
Life is good. At least that is what I keep telling myself.
I finally have a new grillfriend. It all came together yesterday. And she’ll be residing here at my house. I think she’s really hot (or will be soon enough). Big thanks to the nephews for helping making it all possible.
How many McCrareys does it take to assemble a grill? Apparently three.
My workday started at 0445 with a call from the Eighth Army G1 advising that a “phone alert roster drill” was in effect. This meant that I had to contact all my employees to make sure they could be reached in case of an actual emergency. I was also instructed to report on my progress every 20 minutes or so.
No problem! I worked the phones and woke my folks up like a pro. I had a little math problem though. I know I have 19 souls in my organization, but for the life of me I could only come up with 18 names. And then I realized I hadn’t counted myself. Duh! Anyway, it took 3 hours but I accounted for all my people. Mission accomplished!
The other big event in my day was deciphering this:
3.E.3.B. (U) CIVILIAN CORPS INDEX (CI). BECAUSE METHODS OF EFFECTIVENESS (MOE) AND METHODS OF PERFORMANCE (MOP) FOR SO2 ARE RELATED TO BUILDING COHESIVE TEAMS AND A CULTURE OF TRUST, THE OPERATIONAL OBJECTIVE FOR THE CCI IS TO INCREASE POSITIVE BEHAVIORS BY 2% FOR TWO YEARS FROM THE DATE OF PUBLICATION OF THIS FRAGORD AND BY 5% OVER A 5-YEAR TERM. TO REACH THIS GOAL, MSCS TRACK AND ENTER METRICS QUARTERLY INTO SMS. HPO / R2 CHIEF DETERMINES-WITH COMMAND APPROVAL-WHICH CHPC WORKING GROUP TAKES LEAD ON THIS
INDEX ASSESSMENT. ALL DATA COLLECTED IS AGGREGATE./
Yes, I can speak Army, but not fluently.
It was a great day to be an American in the Republic of Korea!
The dryer installation went fine, but when I asked the installer about the washing machine he gave me a look like I could do it myself, gesturing at the two hoses that just needed to be connected to the machine and to the faucets. I shrugged, it seemed simple enough.
Nothing ever is.
Alright, connecting the hoses was easy enough. The faucets didn’t indicate which was hot and which was cold. But what the hell, I’ve got a 50% chance of being right.
Now, since these are “American” appliances they come with 110v cords. Luckily, my house has both types of outlets…
…except when it doesn’t. Those are 220v cleverly disguised behind the 110 v panel. Now what?
Improvisation baby! I happened to have this transformer handy and put it to use.
Another issue was the hose drain was not attached properly so the hose wouldn’t stay in the drain pipe. I put to work some duct tape, but didn’t really expect it to work.
It didn’t.
Trying to do a load of whites right now, but something doesn’t seem to be working right. Gonna have to get the landlord out here I suppose.
Now I wind up staring at an empty glass Because it’s so easy to say that you’ll forget your past...
Another Valentine’s Day being spent on my own. And truthfully, that’s pretty much the way I choose to be. But it weren’t always so. And it seems there is always something there to remind me when I wasn’t alone.
Delving through my old posts on the Philippines information board I frequent, I came across something I wrote back in August 2009 called “My Dilemma”:
So next month marks an anniversary. One year since my last visit to the PI. You guys with PPD (post Philippines Depression) can imagine how much worse it is when you don’t know when, or if, you will return to paradise.
See, next August I am eligible to retire and can draw a generous (and well earned I might add) government pension. I could live comfortably almost anywhere, but in the PI I could live like a rich man. And that has a certain appeal to me.
What’s the problem then? Well, as the old Elvin Bishop song says “I fooled around and fell in love”. With a Korean woman.
Now, this woman is 93% perfect. She takes care of all my needs in a way that is beyond anything I ever imagined. And I’m a man who likes to be taken care of. She does everything for me down to the smallest detail without complaint. In fact, she tells me it is “her pleasure”. She is an amazing lover and an old fashioned good hearted woman. I go to the bars about three nights a week for darts, and she never complains. She comes along and has actually become a pretty big fan of the game. All my friends think she is great and her family seems to have taken a liking to me as well. When I got sick last year, she was at my side in the hospital 24/7. Hell, to reference another old song, she’s like the gal The Band sang about: “up on cripple creek she sends me/if I spring a leak/she mends me/I don’t have to speak/she defends me/a drunkards dream if I ever did see one…”
Yep, I’d have a hard time finding anyone better for me in this world than her.
So, you may be thinking, “what’s the dilemma?”. The 7% of the GF that is not perfect is that she is extraordinarily jealous. Almost to the point of being insane about it.
And she found my collection of photos from previous trips to the Philippines. She says seeing me with those “young girls” just makes her sick to her stomach. She deleted them all.
Now, even hearing the word Philippines enrages her. And whenever there’s a Filipina in a bar she accuses me of staring at her and tells me “I love Filipino women too much!”.
She accessed my email and found communications with a platonic friend in the PI and went nuts.
If I go to a filipino bar I like here in Seoul she gets pissed.
She checks the messages/call history on my cell phone.
She checks the stamps in my passport when I travel.
She counts the frickin’ money in my wallet to make sure I’m not spending money on others.
In other words, that 7% is getting to be a real pain in the ass.
But damn, she does love me, and you know, there is something to be said for being loved.
But any future I might have with her, means there is no Philippines in my future.
And she is right about one thing–I truly do love the Pinays.
Hence my dilemma. One year out from retirement and I need to be firming up plans. If I stay in Korea with her, it means getting married (will need a visa). If I’m going to the PI to retire, well, I need to be going there and making some decisions.
I’m stuck at 50-50 on the pros and cons. I mean, I could pay someone in the PI to take care of all those nice things my GF gives me free. But as the Beatles so astutely noted, “Money can’t buy me love”.
I guess it’s a good thing to have choices in life. But it feels pretty fucked up right now.
Well, of course regular readers know that I chose love over the Philippines. And as it turned out, I chose wrong. I’m still not really over it and I definitely don’t understand it. But there is of course no going back. I can only lament the wasted time.
But as Facebook reminds me today, there were moments of love. I even made a movie about it, circa 2013.
Painful to watch now. And for those who say it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, I call bullshit.
One thing is for sure, I am bound and determined to never love again. Don’t need it, don’t want it. Happy Valentine’s Day!
Mem’ries, Light the corners of my mind Misty water-colored memories Of the way we were Scattered pictures, Of the smiles we left behind Smiles we gave to one another For the way we were Can it be that it was all so simple then? Or has time re-written every line? If we had the chance to do it all again Tell me, would we? Could we? Mem’ries, may be beautiful and yet What’s too painful to remember We simply choose to forget So it’s the laughter We will remember Whenever we remember… The way we were… The way we were…
Feel free to skip this post if you are weary of hearing my tales of woe regarding my health.
Okay, for the rest of you then…
Today I successfully secured a coveted appointment at the Brian Allgood Army Community Hospital on my third day of trying. Oddly enough, I started experiencing shortness of breath about an hour before my 5 o’clock appoint. And it was the worst occurrence I’ve ever had. I was having difficulty even talking to the intake nurse about my symptoms. The took my blood pressure (185/100!) then I met with the doctor. He could immediately see I was in some pretty serious distress and asked me how often this condition occurred. I breathlessly explained that I never let it get this bad since acquiring my nebulizer. The good doc said let’s get you some nebulization going now and while I was inhaling that sweet relief, he listened to my chest and apparently didn’t like what he heard.
As is usually the case, I felt better almost immediately. But apparently my blood oxygen was staying in the low 80s (normal is 95+) which meant I was experiencing Hypoxemia. That’s not good and the doc wanted me to visit the emergency room then and there. And so naturally I did.
The took my blood pressure again (still over 180), did an EKG, and started me on another round of nebulaziton.
Suckin’ in the ER.
Then they wheeled me down to x-ray to get a gander at my lungs.
My first ever ride in a wheelchair on the way to the x-ray department. Whee! (I’ll be happy if it is my last ride in one though).
At least I had something to read.
By the time I got back to the ER I was feeling much better and my vitals confirmed it (blood pressure back down in the normal for me 140s, and blood oxygen back in the high 90s. So, now I wanted to hear the long elusive diagnosis. Doctor says it seems to be a case of Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD). Damn, I was afraid he was going to say that! (A couple of friends had suggested that may be my problem, but I was in denial).
There it is, the price I paid for 25 years of moderate smoking. The fact that I’ve been off tobacco for over 2 years now is certainly a positive. It appears my COPD is still in the early stages, and there are things I can do to slow it’s progress. So, that’s what I will do. We all got to die of something, but my death is far from imminent. My dad had COPD and made it to 83. That’s a worthwhile goal I reckon.
I came home with some drugs and an inhaler and instructions to return for a follow-on visit in a week.
In the meantime, it is always possible I will run into someone like this:
Hired a driver through my new friend Tia (who owns the New Cowboy dart bar) to transport me from Bangkok to Pattaya, about a 2 hour drive. The driver spoke no English and arrived 30 minutes late, but no biggie. We got to Pattaya with no problem, but then he couldn’t find my hotel. Well, I’d written the address down in English, but apparently he didn’t read English so much. Anyway, he actually stopped and asked for directions 5 or 6 times, but we eventually found our way to the Mareez Lodge.
Worst fucking hotel I can recall ever staying at. I’d compare it to a Motel 6, but that’s probably not fair. To Motel 6. Actually, the room is better than the service, so there’s that. I chose this lodging because of it’s central location and based on the recommendation of Lunian, a nice Romanian guy I met at my hotel restaurant in Bangkok. I guess our taste in lodging differs. Anyway, for 20 bucks a night I can suck it up. It’s not like I’m spending a lot of time in the room anyway.
Anyway, after checking in I figured I’d take a hike and reconnoiter the area. I was walking pretty much randomly but came upon the infamous Walking Street.
Of course by day it’s almost serene. I’ll check it out in all its decadent glory tonight…
A typical Walking Street venue.
Well, I guess that settles it.
So, I headed back to the hotel via Beach Road but then I totally lost my bearings. Nothing looked familiar and given that all the street signs were written in a language that looks like scribbling to me, my English language hotel map on the back of a business card was useless. In desperation (but not panic) I approached a motorcycle taxi driver and asked him if he knew where my hotel was. Although he spoke no English he seemed to indicate in the affirmative and offered a ride for 40 baht. I guess the last time I rode on the back of a motor scooter was in Phnom Penh. I was drunk then but it was still a scary ride. Totally sober like yesterdayfelt like I was living life on the edge. Without a helmet to boot. Well, we rode around for awhile and still nothing looked familiar. And then he stopped and asked for directions. Then took me to a place called the Marin, and I tried my best to explain that no, this is not where I’m going. When he stopped for directions again I finally just gave up in frustration, paid him and started walking again. I found a neighborhood I’d seen before, but still had no clue as to where my hotel might be. So I asked another moto-taxi guy who consulted with another driver and he told me to walk 50 meters and turn right. And sure enough, there it was! I did manage 17,000 steps on my adventure.
So I stuck close by my lodging last night. Fortunately(?) there are multitudes of bars to choose from within a 3 block radius. I chose several. Dined on street food, although I didn’t go Thai–an egg burger and a chicken kabob. Both were good, at least as far as my drunken palate was concerned. There’s a massage place next to my hotel, so I popped in there on my way home. As I perused the menu I was told they were offering a “two for one” special. I asked, ‘what’s that?” and was advised four hands for the price of two. I’m never one to refuse a bargain! But truthfully, those extra hands were a bit distracting. I’ll stick with one set in the future.
Got up this morning and took my dirty clothes to a laundry service. Because it is hot and I sweat a lot, I normally have to change twice a day. Rather than carry a big ass suitcase I generally just take advantage of getting them washed and folded for less than I hand out in tips to bargirls. Then I went out in search of breakfast. I took careful note this time of where I was and identified specific landmarks along the way to ensure I’d find my way back without incident. And at Jolly’s hotel and restaurant I ordered up a ham, cheese, and mushroom omelette.
Biggest damn omelette I ever did see! And the coffee was excellent too.
After consuming about 2/3s of that monster I commenced to walking. Found my way back to Beach Road, which led me to Walking Street. Then I walked down a long ass pier. Here’s some of what I saw along the way:
The Queen of Thailand…
The ocean.
A beach to the left of me…
And one on the right…
A view from the pier…
And another…
You can see the sea…
Made my way back and although I didn’t leave any bread crumbs along the road, I feel confident now that I can manage to get home tonight without being lost. Even when I’m drunk, and odds are good I will be.
After a nice long walk it is important to re=hydrate. And so I did.
I’ve gotten to like the little beer bar across the street from my hotel. Friendly staff, although we mostly communicate with smiles.
Kevin asks in the comments to my previous post if I’m going to be doing anything more interesting than drinking beer, such as riding an elephant. Probably not. When I travel alone I don’t usually go for the touristy stuff. Mostly because it underscores the fact that I’m, well, traveling alone. I’m content to just go walking about and taking in whatever I come across. Although I do prefer to avoid getting lost. And the drinking helps me forget about being alone. And as long as you are buying lady drinks you can pretend that you are not.
Stay tuned for a report on Walking Street at night. God help me!
Random songs appropriate for this last Saturday in August.
Ticking away the moments that make up a dull day Fritter and waste the hours in an off-hand way Kicking around on a piece of ground in your home town Waiting for someone or something to show you the way
Tired of lying in the sunshine staying home to watch the rain But you are young and life is long and there is time to kill today And then one day you find ten years have got behind you No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun
And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it’s sinking And racing around to come up behind you again The sun is the same in a relative way, but you’re older And shorter of breath and one day closer to death
The longer I live the more I believe You do have to give if you wanna receive. There’s a time to listen, a time to talk. And you might have to crawl even after you walk. Had sure things blow up in my face, Seen the longshot win the race. Been knocked down by the slammin’ door. Picked myself up and came back for more.
Life’s a dance, you learn as you go. Sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow. Don’t worry ’bout what you don’t know, life’s a dance, you learn as you go.
Yes, my guard stood hard when abstract threats Too noble to neglect Deceived me into thinking I had something to protect Good and bad, I define these terms Quite clear, no doubt, somehow Ah, but I was so much older then I’m younger than that now.
White line fever, a sickness born Down deep within my soul White line fever, the years keep flyin’ by Like the highline poles
The wrinkles in my forehead Show the miles I’ve put behind me They continue to remind how fast I’m growin’ old Guess I’ll die with this fever in my soul
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kU0WcW2k2tc
Every time I look in the mirror All these lines on my face getting clearer The past is gone It went by like dusk to dawn Isn’t that the way? Everybody’s got their dues in life to pay
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Wzic15m7YQ
And the seasons they go round and round And the painted ponies go up and down We’re captive on the carousel of time We can’t return we can only look Behind from where we came And go round and round and round In the circle game
I ain’t as good as I once was I got a few years on me now But there was a time back in my prime
When I could really lay it down
And if you need some love tonight
Then I might have just enough
I ain’t as good as I once was
But I’m as good once as I ever was
Best compliment yet on my new look– Bartender at Srooge Pub said ” I used to call you ajussi (uncle) but now I call you oppa (brother).” Should have shaved years ago!
Speaking of being not quite as invisible as I once was, while waiting to cross the street in Itaewon I caught this group of young ladies staring at me.
I’m not a piece of meat girls. I am a human being! Alright, so it was a bus stop advertisement. I can hope and dream!
With some of that free time I mentioned in my previous post I peruse the reader submissions at a Thai-centric website called Stickman Bangkok. As is common with this type internet venue, the quality of writing runs the gamut of truly awful to “this guy should be making money as a wordsmith”.
I’ve never been to Thailand (yet) but I do enjoy visiting vicariously through the submissions by those who have experienced the Thai life up close and personal. And my favorite writer who frequently posts at Stickman is Steve Rosse.
Good stuff, huh? I’m not all that interested in girly bars and whoring around these days, and neither is Steve. Although quite honestly, I’m never quite sure where truth and fiction reside within his work. That doesn’t lessen the genuine pleasure I get from his stories though.
Anyway, a few months back I read this story by Steve called “Cellies” and it was like being hit upside the head with a brick. He had artfully expressed in words something I had been doing frequently in the last few months of my ill-fated marriage–escaping to a better life in a world that existed only in my mind.
I was so moved I felt compelled to send him an email and thank him for his effort. I was a little surprised when Steve wrote me back. In his email he mentioned that if I enjoyed his writing I might consider purchasing some of his published work on Amazon. I told him I most certainly would. But then I went of my six month bender life intruded and I never got around to it. I did use one of his quotes in a blog post though.
Well fast forward to a week or so ago when I was catching up with StickmanBangkok where I read a submission by Steve called “The List”. And a couple of days later some anonymous asshole wrote a post that started off by attacking Steve and then went off on a rant delving deep into the sewers of misogyny. I was pissed and was working on an appropriate response in my head. I needn’t have bothered, because before I could put words on paper (or pixels in Word if you will) Steve came back with perhaps one of the top ten take downs in internet history.
I sent Steve a congratulatory email and told him his evisceration of “Anus Moony” had finally provided the motivation for me to keep my promise to buy some books. I guess for a writer that’s about the best thank you of all, right?
I’m quite certain these will provide excellent beach side reading entertainment next week.
And what beach might that be you ask? Why, lovely Samal island in the Philippines. Never been to that particular part of the PI, but it looks nice in the pictures.
My friend Maria will be my host and tour guide during my visit…
And that’s about where things stand at this particular moment in time.
Except for this:
I’ve been studiously avoiding engaging in Facebook banter with my friends on the left who all want to talk gun control while ignoring the hulking elephant in the room–Islamic terrorism.
When I was equipping myself for my new bachelor life I bought the red can opener for $5.00. I’d considered the more substantial black one at $8.00 but figured, hell, how many cans do I ever open anyway?
So this morning I had it in my mind to make up a crockpot full of chili. I browned some ground beef and popped it in the pot. Diced up an onion and added it to the beef. Grabbed my can of pinto beans and the red opener…then encountered mission failure. The gear is stripped or something, all I know is no matter how I turned the handle, the lid was not being opened. Curses!
My solution was to detour from my river walk and pop into the PX for the opener I should have bought in the first place. Chili is cooking now, but I had to go four hours on high versus the preferred 8 hours on low. But enough of my #firstworldproblems.
Yesterday I had the honor to attend the wedding ceremony of Brian and Justina.
That’s me getting warmed up for the festivities with a refreshing tall glass of gin and soda…
I was also fortunate to escort Nuri and Sonja to the big event….
The happy couple…well, Brian looks like he’s going to the firing squad. But marriage is not that kind of death…
Friends of the groom. Poor guy…
After the ceremony dinner was served…
Brian all decked out for Phase II–the traditional Korean wedding rituals…
Anyway, it was a very nice wedding. Very formal and Christian. Which meant no alcohol on the tables and a long ass sermon (all in Korean). Other than that, no complaints.
There was an after party at Shenanigans in which I marginally participated. Meaning that I scored free drinks from the patio and drank them from my usual seat at the bar. Went home early and hit the sheets.
Up early this morning to no avail as the aforementioned chili plans were foiled by a faulty utensil. So I did laundry then headed for the river.
It was a pretty warm morning and I worked up a good sweat. But the air was clearer than it’s been in awhile.
These wildflowers were holding on for dear life…
And I walked across that oddly familiar bridge…
I was dragging ass by the time I got home…
And home I remain. Waiting on my chili…
UPDATE: Oh, yeah. Minus 3.4 pounds this week. That leaves me at 224.7. Dropped 44.5 pounds overall. When will the belly go away? Stay tuned!
Sometimes there’s a part of me Has to turn from here and go Running like a child from these warm stars Down the Seven Bridges Road.
well, if you walk far enough there are seven bridges anyway…
This morning I had my follow-up visit with the cardiologist at Soonchunhwang hospital. I walked over. Afterwards I walked on in to work. Given that I was on sick leave, I took the long way there. Via the river route.
And then I did another hour at lunch. 17,757 steps all told. Just over 10K in 2 hours 45 minutes. The highlight of my day. Gotta take pleasure where you find it I suppose.
Laundry, a steak dinner, and dart league stats after work. Finished the night with several gin and sodas at Shenanigans.
