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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chat GPT

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

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

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

One last question for Mr. ChatGPT:

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

Chatgpt

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

More nothingness to come tomorrow. See you then!

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

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

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

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

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

You can Relive it here:

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

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

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

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

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

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

To the hike photos then:

And no a quick time out for a grammar lesson:

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

Tune it tomorrow for a full report.

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

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

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

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

Dr. Jo sent me this as well:

I found these definitions useful as well:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My big thrill yesterday was visiting a dermatologist in Olongapo.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The day started with a challenging but nice 8.5K hike circumnavigating the Naugsol valley. Photos from that adventure are at the end of this post.

I’ve decided to take a break from participating in hiking groups, including the Hash. My plan is to take the rest of the year off and start fresh in 2023. (Sorry, that was pretty lame)

I am frequently reminded that punctuation matters, especially when it comes to the proper use of commas. And this, I think, really illustrates that fact:

So, another Friday, another SOB dance competition. This week’s event was at the Green Room. Most of the dance teams were reduced in size (er, make that number. Some of the girls were large). I expect this is because many of the girls go home to the province for the holidays. Still, most of the teams put on an energetic and entertaining show. Plus, the beer was cold and plentiful—a good combination. Wet Spot took the crown this week, and they earned it with all that ass-shaking.

My friends, Joy from Alaska and Irish from Queen Victoria, spent some of their non-dance time standing at my table (nowhere to sit), and I, of course, rewarded them with a lady drink or two.

I had arrived at Green Room a little after 4:00, and the SOB was over at 8:00. I went next door to Wet Spot and stayed for another hour. Needless to say, I’d consumed more beers than usual. Caught a trike and made it home before I could do anything stupid.

And then I woke up to the last morning of the year.

To the last group hike of the year, then.

I liked this trek because it was a place we rarely visit and my lungs appreciated the fact that there was no significant climbing involved. A good way to finish this year’s hikes.

Speaking of hikes, Pubic Head (Scott) posted a map showing all the Hash trails for 2022.

And now the last night of the year is approaching. Since Hideaway will be closed tomorrow, I’ll feed the girls tonight. Baked them a chocolate cake and I’ll see what’s on the menu at the Jewel restaurant for their supper. After that I’ll just do a bar crawl and end the year on a “high” note.

There are some changes coming in the new year. Yep, I’ve made some resolutions. Tell you about it tomorrow.

Afraid so. I attended the Whiskey Girl event, and it was a good one. The top three finishers were all outstanding, one of the few times I’ve struggled as a judge to choose the winner. Turns out, I chose right. The sponsor hasn’t posted photos yet, so I’ll update this post when he does. But just so you know, it was Whiskey Girl, Voodoo, and Wet Spot.

The place was hoppin’, and my poor waitress could barely get a moment’s rest. I kept plying her with lady drinks to make sure she didn’t get dehydrated.

I filled the hour before the SOB with a roast chicken salad dinner at Mango’s.

After the SOB, I briefly popped into the dance party event my pal Max is hosting. This was their second Friday night, and it appears momentum is building–quite a few more in attendance than in week 1. I’m not into dance clubs, but I stuck around for a couple of beers to show my support. I really hope this takes off and is a success.

And that leaves the Friday hike. Once again, only two of us bothered showing up. This time it was Martin and me. We just did the hills behind Barretto but went up a seldom-used path and wandered around for a 6K jaunt.

A street walk back home, and that was the hike.

Another day in the life is in the books. Well, on the blog, anyway.

I dual-purposed my Sunday solitary stroll yesterday, adding in a detour to the ATM in Subic-town to restock my funds. It’s December, and that brings about a slew of additional expenses. For example, they have a tradition here known as “the 13th month,” in which employees receive a year-end bonus equal to one month’s salary. Being the generous employer that I am, I’m rewarding my full-time and part-time domestic helpers and my driver with the gift of extra pay.

The bank is just a tad further up the road. I took a trike back home. You can see how it looked from above here:

With the walk out of the way and my funds restored, I set about preparing for my evening. I baked up a batch of cupcakes for the Hideaway girls, then headed over to John’s place for some bulgogi and Korean-style chicken wings to feed Joy and the crew.

A quick update on John. He was sleeping in his recliner when I arrived. He was awake when I was leaving and said he had changed doctors and meds and was starting to feel better. It didn’t look like it to me. I asked if he needed anything, and he shrugged it off. I’m trying to respect his privacy, but if he needs funds for dialysis or other treatments, I’d be happy to help organize some donations. I don’t know what else I can do at this point.

After finishing my duties at Hideaway, I decided to drop in at Snackbar. It’s a little over a kilometer between the two bars.

The scary thing is that during that 1K walk, I experienced some breathing difficulties. Not as bad as I used to suffer before I got diagnosed in Korea, but if I had had to walk much further or, god forbid, climb a hill, I’d have been in trouble. I took a couple of squirts from my inhaler, and once I arrived at Snackbar and sat down, I was fine. For what it is worth, I didn’t have any trouble on my 7K morning walk. The only difference being several beers, but I’m not sure why that would affect my lungs. Hopefully just a one-off.

A couple more beers (and lady drinks, of course), and I was ready to hit the road for home.

This morning, Facebook shared the memory of a time when my family was all together.

And then there is this:

I think that is how I see myself in my mind’s eye, which makes it easier to flirt with all the young honeys that surround me. It also explains why I hate mirrors so much!

So, the old Gordon Lightfoot song “For Lovin’ Me” popped up in my Spotify playlist while I was out walking.

That's what you get for lovin' me
That's what you get for lovin' me
Ev'ry thing you had is gone
As you can see
That's what you get for lovin' me

I ain't the kind to hang around
With any new love that I found
'Cause movin' is my stock in trade
I'm movin' on
I won't think of you when I'm gone.

So don't you shed a tear for me
B'cause I ain't the love you thought I'd be
I got a hundred more like you
So don't be blue
I'll have a thousand 'fore I'm through

Now there you go you're cryin' again
Now there you go you're cryin' again
But then someday when your poor heart
Is on the mend
Well I just might pass this way again

That's what you get for lovin' me
That's what you get for lovin' me
Everything you had is gone
As you can see
That's what you get for lovin' me
That's what you get for lovin' me

It occurred to me that the sentiment expressed cuts both ways. By which I mean I could have sung that song to some of the women I’ve known over this lifetime. But an equal number could have sung it to me as well. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. And maybe you eventually learn to live the way you want to be seen.

I prefer the Peter, Paul, and Mary version of the song, so here you go:

Sloppy Joe’s is a small bar that offers outdoor seating–just the kind I like! It’s a relatively new bar that has recently undergone some significant remodeling.

Traffic noise can be a bit distracting, but they play good music, and most times, you can focus on that and forget about the passing vehicles. Nice close-up view of people passing by on foot, although the beggars can sometimes be a bother.

No pool or darts; what you see (and hear) is what you get. The night I was here, there were only a couple of waitresses on duty. I’m sure I could have bought them a drink if I wanted, but I wasn’t looking for company. To their credit, they didn’t ask either.

Sloppy Joe’s is known for being an after-hours hangout, often staying open until 3 a.m. or later. Not that I would ever be awake to see that happening. But it is a good bar to hang out with friends or chill on your own. Beer is cold and wet, just the way I like it!

Where things stand in my humble opinion:

1. It Doesn’t Matter
2. Hideaway
3. Snackbar
4. The Green Room
5. Wet Spot
6. Cheap Charlies
7. John’s Sushi and Steak
8. Mango’s Beach Bar
9. Hops and Brews
10. Bar Barretto
11. Whiskey Girl
12. Sloppy Joe’s
13. Alley Cats
14. Lux
15. Dynamite Dick’s
16. Mugshots
17. Alaska Club
18. Hot Zone
19. Queen Victoria
20. Blue Butterfly
21. Adam’s
22. Thumbstar
23. Voodoo
24. Rock Lobster
25. Outback
26. Rosie’s
27. Annex
28. Bottoms Up
29. Palm Tree
30. BarCelona
31. MacArthur’s
32. Redz Pub
33. Chill

Had a meeting last night with some bar owners and managers. They confirmed I’d need to put the lease in someone else’s name since I’m on a tourist visa. They also suggested I up my furnishing and equipment budget from $10,000 to $15,000. Then they asked which specific bar I was talking about. They all looked at each other when I answered and shook their heads. I was told the owner has a reputation for being crazy, is usually drunk by ten every morning, and, most importantly, has screwed over everyone he has done business with in the past. Okay, that’s what I needed to hear. The most significant risk in this whole proposition was having to trust people I don’t know. I’m glad that now I won’t have to find out the hard way. The Rite Spot ain’t happening, at least not at that location.

Otherwise, my day was about as regular as every other day around here. Some scenes from my morning walk:

And then time marched forward.

I had planned to start my imbibing at It Doesn’t Matter, but the place was packed. Apparently, a group from the VFW and the local motorcycle club were both holding court there. Seeing nowhere to sit, I crossed the highway and took up a chair in Cheap Charlies.

Later I had my meeting at Wet Spot, where I learned the fate of the Rite Spot. Then I finished the night with a couple more beers at Snackbar, where Lydell kept me company.

And that was that.

Facebook reminded me that today is the fifth anniversary of the first and only time I’ve achieved 50,000 steps in a single day (my usual output is between 15,000 and 20,000).

That’s all for now. I’ve got the SOB tonight, and we’ll see what else happens after that.

I checked out the space that could potentially become The Rite Spot On The Beach. It has potential but would require quite a bit of refurbishment and money for new furniture. That wasn’t unexpected, so the next step will be to see how willing the owners are to partner with me in getting the work done. I also want to consult with Daddy Dave on some of the legalities involved. For example, I’m here on a tourist visa and am strictly prohibited from engaging in paid work. I’m not sure whether that applies to the actual ownership of a business, but I seem to recall that it does. One option would be to put the lease in a Filipino’s name and just be the silent partner sitting in the corner, drinking a beer and keeping his eye on things. Of course, that requires finding someone trustworthy. It would suck to successfully start the business only to have it stolen away because my name isn’t on the paperwork. So, there is still a lot more to explore.

So, that’s what the space looks like, and it appears to be something I could work to develop into the kind of bar I’d like to hang out in. That’s actually my standard: would I drink here? As I said, there is a long way to go between the concept in my head and creating a reality on the ground. My interest is piqued, so I’ll see where the next step might lead me.

It was only 2:30 after my tour of “The Rite Spot,” but I didn’t feel like going back home for a couple of hours, so I declared a Sunday exception to my usual “beer o’clock” rule. Of course, it was feeding day for the Hideaway girls, so I made the trek across town. Along the way, I ordered a pizza from Shamboli’s for delivery. I didn’t have the chance to bake a dessert for the crew, so I popped into the Goldilocks bakery and bought a small cake and some baked snacks. Once I arrived at Hideaway, I sent Joy to Chooks for some fried chicken take-out. And dinner was served:

I did discover that when you bring in a cake from Goldilocks, everyone assumes it is someone’s birthday. The other customers in the bar kept wanting to buy me a shot for my special day. My denials elicited a “who’s birthday is it then?” response; I’d say “no one’s” which seemed hard to believe for everyone. Lesson learned, next time, if I don’t bake, I’ll bring a bag of cookies.

Getting there earlier in the day exposed me to a larger-than-usual group of Hideaway regulars.

I started early and stayed longer, but the time came to start making my way back to my side of town. It Doesn’t Matter is about halfway, so it seemed like a logical place to stop and “rest.” Agnes was there to take care of me, and I wound up ordering us both some food. I waved at Alan and Christine walking by on the highway, and they came in to join me. Alan used to manage the bar at Palm Tree, so I picked his brain a little. I’m thinking if The Rite Spot happens, hiring someone like him to run the place might be the best way to go. Christine is the one who hooked me up with my future landlord, and she reassured me everything was still on track for my move next year. It was good to see them.

I had intended to go home after IDM, but once I hit the road, I decided to hoof it over to Snackbar for a quick visit with Lydell and the girls. I was extra careful crossing the highway, though. My pal John, who I’d seen earlier at Hideway, was sitting at an outside table by himself, so I joined him. Had a nice chat about some past happenings and his recent move. Lydell came out and joined us, so I quenched her thirst. Which attracted Jen and Ana like moths to a flame, so I bought them a drink too. It’s weird how that works–the more I drink, the more drinks I buy. Strange. Anyway, I’d had enough (did I spell too much wrong?), so grabbed a trike and headed up the hill to Alta Vista.

And so ended another day in my “best life.”

I got up this morning and did a beach walk on Baloy.

And this is Hash Monday, so I’ve got more steps coming. Including a return to Baloy for the ON-HOME at Da’Kudos. Look for a report on that adventure tomorrow.

You know that old trees just grow stronger,
And old rivers grow wilder every day.
Old people just grow lonesome
Waiting for someone to say, "Hello in there, hello."

So if you're walking down the street sometime
And spot some hollow ancient eyes,
Please don't just pass 'em by and stare
As if you didn't care, say, "Hello in there, hello."

Our “outstation” Hash trip to Pundaquit is in the books, and for this Hasher, it was overall the best trail I’ve ever hiked. Maybe the saddest too. I’ll get to that part in a bit.

The initial climb was long and hard, just as I expected it would be. The frustrating part was just when it seemed the summit was in sight, it turned out to be an illusion, and the uphill slog continued. That happened three or four times before the top was finally achieved. I was huffing and puffing almost as severely as I do after sex lately. Not quite that bad, though; otherwise, I’d likely have died on the mountain.

Once up top, though, it was like walking through a dream. Varied landscapes, lots of trees, and incredible views. Truly amazing. I hope the photos I share come close to capturing that magical feeling I experienced on the trail.

The down seemed eerily familiar, and as I progressed, I started to recognize some landmarks. Yes, I had been here before. Five days shy of exactly one year ago. Although on that previous visit, I was climbing up the mountain, not coming down. Looking back, that had been one of the best days of my life in the Philippines. Mainly because I had spent it with the last woman I loved. She’s gone now, and life goes on, but the hole in my soul remains. And as I walked that path we had shared in reverse, the memories came flooding back. When you are living those moments, you are just enjoying them for what they are, not worrying about what will happen next. When you are reliving the memories, knowing what the future has brought, it is hard not to feel regret. Still, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

The On-Home was at Monty’s Riverside View Resort, a place I had visited with the Hash in 2018. No bad memories from that one, and after more than a few beers, I had drowned my sorrows and let go of the past once again.

Ready for some photos? Let’s do it!

There was another first-ever event in my Hashing experience–a search and rescue mission. One of the Hashers had burned out on top of the mountain (probably from dehydration) and didn’t have the energy to proceed. Anal Receptive and Vienna Sausage headed back up the mountain (from the way we came down) and brought some water, Gatorade, and ice. They soon enough had him back on his feet and back at Monty’s just about the time the Hash circle was concluding. Well done, gentlemen!

Another aspect of the outstation format is the bus ride home. Imagine, if you will, fifty drunken Hashers in a bus (with more beer on board for consumption) singing their Hash ditties in a loud and obnoxious manner that is the style and custom of the Hash.

Good times!

We only had four in attendance for the Wednesday Walkers group yesterday, so Scott volunteered to drive us out to the Cawag barangay in Subic so we could do a hike in and around Club Morocco. We only make it out this way once a year, so it was nice to take in the unique views this area offers once again. As I mentioned in last year’s post about Club Morocco, the subdivision was developed by the same company as Alta Vista but is twice the size. Most of the lots have not been built on, which gives an apocalyptic feel to the empty streets. Great area for hiking, though. I’ve got lots of photos from the adventure I’ll share at the end of this post.

The feeding at Hideaway Bar last night went well, with fried chicken and brownies for the girls.

And an unusually good time at the bar too. The only other customer and I alternated picking songs to be played on the big screen, and we both seemed to enjoy each other’s selections. I upped the ante by playing a classic Marty Robbins tune I first listened to as a child sitting at my father’s feet while he drank beer and played records after work. As I sang along, I laughed inwardly at the relevance of the lyrics to my current life:

Out in the West Texas town of El Paso
I fell in love with a Mexican girl
Nighttime would find me in Rosa's cantina
Music would play and Felina would whirl

Blacker than night were the eyes of Felina
Wicked and evil while casting a spell
My love was deep for this Mexican maiden
I was in love but in vain, I could tell

One night a wild young cowboy came in
Wild as the West Texas wind
Dashing and daring, a drink he was sharing
With wicked Felina, the girl that I loved

Well, I haven’t gotten in a gunfight over a girl here. Yet. Anyway, it was fun. I had a couple more beers in Green Room later, then finished my night at Snackbar.

And that brings me to my big news. I have a dinner date tonight. I’m going to take her to Hops and Brews, the new place in town I recently reviewed. It was kind of funny because after confirming the dinner plans, she told me this was the first time someone had asked her to dinner as a date. So, in that sense, I guess I’ll be dining with a virgin. She does have two kids, though.

Well, I guess I’m never really alone. There’s always beer.

I saw this today, and all I could think was, “supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.”

Alright, enough of this nonsense. Let’s get to those hiking pictures (a group effort with Scott and Lydell):

It was a nice change of pace and, while not as easy as it appears, quite enjoyable.

Hopefully, I can say the same thing about my dinner date tonight. See you here tomorrow!

Hops & Brews is located on Del Pilar Street in the building that formerly housed Sit-n-Bull. There has been a complete renovation turning that space into something quite unique, with inside and outside bars and seating.

When I first entered, I started to sit down at this bar and order a beer. The bartender said most people prefer the beer garden out back. I told her I’d check it out.

So, I headed out back and took a seat at the bar in the beer garden.

I was quite surprised to be greeted by name by several of the waitresses, both as “sir John” and my nickname “Gwapo.” Of course, I didn’t have a clue where I’d seen them before, but I suppose it’s easy to be famous in a small town.

The manager greeted me, again by name, and asked if I remembered him from Bar Barretto. I lied and said, “of course.” I mean, his face was familiar, but I’d only been to Bar Barretto twice, so the recollection was fuzzy. The bar doesn’t stock San Mig Zero, so I was drinking San Miguel Light. The manager pointed out they had a craft beer on tap (Crazy Carabao) and a draft beer called Sapporo that I might like. Then he brought me a mug on the house. It was good.

The cook popped out of the kitchen behind the bar, and I recognized him as the former chef at Kamto, so I knew the food here would be good. I asked to see a menu and noted that they feature a variety of dishes at fair prices. I ordered the chicken quesadillas.

When I was done eating, a female cook came and asked me how my meal was, and I told her it was good. I don’t know if that is going to be a standard procedure or if it is just soliciting feedback for a new operation, but it was nice to see they had an interest in customer satisfaction.

The owner introduced himself and asked how I liked my beer, suggesting I might want to try the craft brew. I told him I appreciate a good beer, but I drink Zero to avoid carbs and calories. He laughed, rubbed his beer belly, and said, “I know. I own the gym across the street, and look at me!”

Before I visited, I asked a friend if he’d been there yet. He said, “no, it’s too expensive. All the food dishes are around 500 pesos.” Well, that’s not true. My quesadillas were 260. Some of the entrees were 500 (or more), but the majority of the food was cheaper than that. My draft beer was 100 pesos, and the bottles were 110; that’s at the higher tier of beer prices in Barretto but not unreasonable for the upscale ambiance.

So, first impressions of Hops & Brews: Very friendly staff. Beautiful venue, inside and out. Good food. In fact, the place has much more of a restaurant vibe to me than a typical bar that serves food. It was quite comfortable sitting outside, eating and drinking, and I’m sure I’ll return for a second dose soon.

Off to a good start; keep it up!

The current rankings (I still have two other newer bars to review):

1. It Doesn’t Matter
2. Hideaway
3. Snackbar
4. The Green Room
5. Wet Spot
6. Cheap Charlies
7. John’s Sushi and Steak
8. Mango’s Beach Bar
9. Brews & Hops
10. Bar Barretto
11. Whiskey Girl
12. Alley Cats
13. Lux
14. Dynamite Dick’s
15. Mugshots
16. Alaska Club
17. Hot Zone
18. Queen Victoria
19. Blue Butterfly
20. Adam’s
21. Thumbstar
22. Voodoo
23. Rock Lobster
24. Outback
25. Rosie’s
26. Annex
27. Bottoms Up
28. Palm Tree
29. BarCelona
30. MacArthur’s
31. Redz Pub
32. Chill

My hopes for an early restoration of power yesterday were dashed. There was still no electricity when I left for the Hash at one in the afternoon, and the wind and rain continued intermittently throughout the remainder of the day. Rumor had it that downed trees had taken out the powerlines and rendered all of Subic (my house is serviced by the Subic electric company) to darkness indefinitely. Well, nothing to be done but hope for the best.

When the Hash was over (I’ll get to that later in this post) I treated myself to a “last supper” at Mango’s:

With my hunger satiated, I caught a trike and headed for home, trying to maintain a positive attitude. And sure enough, as we entered the neighborhood, I saw some lighted windows and rejoiced in the knowledge that I would be able to complete my pre-trip checklist. The trike had insufficient horsepower to make it up the final hill to my place (that happens about 10% of the time), so I got out and walked the final block. I was surprised to hear one of the neighbor’s generators running but assumed they hadn’t gotten around to turning it off yet. When I opened my front gate, I saw that my helper’s bedroom window was lit up, so I was reassured that all was right in my little world. Only to be crushed with reality when I opened the door and saw the light was only candlepower. Shit.

The helper suggested I once again book a hotel room, but that wasn’t really a viable alternative. I was home and half-drunk with no transport back to town. And a place to sleep wasn’t what I required–I needed juice to charge my laptop and fire up the printer to prepare the required documents for the next day’s travel. So, I went to bed in a hot room with no fan and slept fitfully. I woke up again at 11:30 in a pool of sweat and couldn’t get back to sleep as my mind wrestled with alternatives for getting what I needed to do done. A friend had suggested I save the documents on a USB stick and take them to a print shop. A fine plan except for the fact that I don’t own such a stick, nor do I know where to purchase one. So, I started considering the logistics of having my driver pick me up in the morning and carry me and my computer and printer to some cheap hotel where I could set up to prepare my documents. As I thought through the various possibilities, there was a *click* sound, and the lights turned on again shortly before midnight. Hooray!

I got up to make sure the laptop and phone were charging, glanced at some of my favorite websites, then went back to bed. As I lay there listening to the rain pounding down, it dawned on me that one stray tree branch could once again render me powerless. So, I got up and went to work. Printed out my Cambodia visa, did an online check-in with Philippine Air, then printed copies of my itinerary and onward flight information. I slept much better knowing the paperwork was done.

This morning I finished packing, did the grocery shopping (helper and dogs need to eat while I’m gone), and bought some new clothes at the outlet store. So, I’m good to go. The driver is coming for me at 3:00, and my flight leaves Manila at 10:00. I’ll arrive in Phnom Penh just before midnight local time after a three-hour flight.

The last time I was “home” in the USA was four years ago this week. Facebook memories included this photo of me in my letter carrier jacket:

I’ve gained some weight since then, but I’m not letting that slow me down much. Should have those six-pack abs any day now:

Alright, to the Hash, then. I already knew that, given the weather, I wasn’t going to be doing any hill climbing. Most of the rest of the “sane” group shared similar sentiments, so we made our own trail.

Alright then. Almost time for me to go. My next post (assuming all goes as planned and prepared for) will be from Cambodia.

Oh, and for those of you who have any interest in what the Halloween version of the SOB dances looked like, here are a couple of samples:

The Wet Spot, this week’s champions:

And the Alaska girls, the second-place team.

Hmm, you’ll have to click on the YouTube link above to see this one. A little surprised it is “age-restricted”; there is no nudity involved. Certainly, nothing like the drag queen dances being held in elementary schools.

Oh well, I’m off to Phnom Penh. We’ll see what I see there.

My big daytime accomplishment (in addition to TWO posts here at LTG) was securing permission from the Philippines government to depart this lovely land next week.

Then the time for the weekly SOB dance competition rolled around. Last night was a special event for Halloween, and it was announced that the dancers and customers were encouraged to dress up for the occasion.

It was by far the best SOB I’ve attended in a long time. Most of the girls went all-out in creating some nifty costumes, and they were also very creative in doing Halloween-themed dance routines.

Another late (for me) night, but other than peeing my pants in the trike coming home, I was no worse for wear.

Today I applied for my e-visa to Cambodia and booked a hotel room for the first two nights in Phnom Penh. I’ll look around and see where I want to spend the rest of the week once I get there.

It was raining this morning, so I just did a neighborhood walk.

Looks like it’s gonna be a rainy Saturday night in Barretto. I guess I’ll have to think of some indoor activity I can engage in to pass the time. Hmm, maybe I’ll visit a bar!

UPDATE: Photos of last night’s winners:

Another lazy Tuesday is in the books. I call it my lazy Tuesday because I go grocery shopping instead of hiking. This week Royal featured three items I was interested in at significantly discounted prices. I kept them together in the cart and then paid close attention as the cashier ran them through the scanner. All came out with the reduced price, so I’m happy to report that Royal didn’t try and scam me this week.

My mountain mama came to collect her weekly allowance and also gave me one of her great massages. Maybe the best ever. Sometimes I fantasize about building a hut up on her mountaintop and living that life with her. Of course, the reality is that I’d likely go stark raving mad after a week or two isolated up there.

In the afternoon, I got bored waiting for beer o’clock to roll around, so I decided to take a walk on Baloy beach. One of my reasons for doing so was that I’d been reading about the resolution of a property dispute, and the “rightful owners” were having the “squatters” removed from the land and their buildings destroyed. In my mind, I was picturing a few dilapidated shacks and shanties being dispensed with, but Wowza, it was a three-block stretch of destruction, including several beach resorts that catered to low-income Filipinos. When I walked by, it looked like someone had dropped a bomb.

My other reason for visiting Baloy yesterday was to check out rumors that the Kokomo’s floating bar was once again anchored offshore.

In the meantime, I’ll have to settle for taking in beach views like this:

I walked on up the beach and noticed it was now beer o’clock, so I popped into McCoy’s for a cold one. It has been several weeks since my last visit here, and I was warmly greeted by the friendly bartender.

I wound up staying for three beers, then headed back up Baloy Road to Barretto. And since Snackbar is right at the intersection of Baloy and the highway, it was perfectly logical that I should pay them a visit while I was in the neighborhood.

I had a few more beers here and bought a round of lady drinks for the staff. The sad thing is that with the sister resto now closed, no food is available at the inaptly named Snackbar. I suggested to the owner that she get a Sit-n-Bull menu since they deliver, but she insisted she is going to find a new location for her kitchen. I wish her good luck with that effort.

Being hungry, I wandered up the highway to Wet Spot and had a big El Padre burrito delivered from Sit-n-Bull next door. It definitely hit the spot and filled a void. I washed it down with a couple more beers, then called it a night. According to my Fitbit, I was asleep shortly before 9 p.m.

That’s the way this old man rolls on a lazy Tuesday. Tonight I’ll be feeding the girls from Hideaway, and we’ll see what happens from there.

Oh, and let me leave you with this TikTok snippet of gals dancing to Dylan’s “Like a Rolling Stone.” And just so you know, I don’t normally indulge in TikTok at all (although the Chinese probably get a full account of my activities from Google anyway), but it was posted on the Althouse blog, and I did rather enjoy it. So here you go:

Hmm, the video doesn’t embed, so you’ll have to click on the link. Sorry!

I started my Tuesday with a trip to the immigration office to renew my tourist visa. Everything went as it normally does, except that when I got my paperwork back, it included instructions for leaving the country and a handwritten “last extension.” I guess I’ve just about worn out my welcome.

Right now, I’m in the initial planning phase for a trip to Cambodia next month. I was disappointed to see I’m going to have to fly out of Manila instead of the much more conveniently located airport in Angeles. Provided the Philippines allows me to re-enter the country, my tourist visa clock resets for three years. Returning shouldn’t be a problem now that I’ve been vaxxed, but there are several paperwork hoops I need to jump through before I can get back in. Hopefully, there won’t be any problems with that.

No excitement at the grocery store unless you find steadily increasing prices exciting. The only saving grace is the dollar continues to gain strength.

Jen, one of the Hideaway girls, had a birthday yesterday, and Joy asked me to bring her a cake.

After I departed Hideaway, I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go. I had half a mind (shuddup!) to enjoy the vistas from BarCelona, but as I passed by It Doesn’t Matter, it occurred to me that I shouldn’t let my disappointment with being a bad judge of character impact my choices on where to enjoy a cold beer. Time to let the past go and move on, so IDM it was.

I actually spent more time than I usually do there, almost two hours. I greeted all the familiar faces, then settled into my outdoor seat to watch the world go by. And guess who was sitting next to me, keeping me company?

In case you are wondering, yes, Agnes was my waitress. I was, of course, polite, and she was friendly. That’s the way it should be.

By the time I departed IDM, I was feeling no pain. The usual trike stands were empty, so I hoofed it up the highway all the way to Queen Victoria. Popped in there and had one more for the road, then found a trike for home.

I woke up this morning to a Facebook reminder that I was hanging out in Pattaya, Thailand, six years ago.

There is a boy I love, though, right here in Barretto:

A nice hike with the Wednesday Walkers I’ll post about tomorrow. It’s feeding night again at Hideaway, and I baked up a batch of carrot cupcakes to share with the girls for dessert (I’ll order a pizza for the main course).

Alright, that brings y’all up to date in my corner of the world. See you here again soon!

A pretty mundane Thursday, but then, a day without drama is a good thing.

After eating, I took a walk to the end of Baloy road, then back on the beach.

Came back home and napped, then wrote TWO blog posts to satiate the hunger of my faithful readers.

I’d mentioned thinking it was time to change my routines where I’d rely less on unreliable bargirls for my entertainment. One idea is to start playing darts again, so yesterday, I took my arrows with me when I went into town for my daily dose of beer. I picked Johansson’s as my practice venue because they have nice boards, very few customers, and no bargirl distractions.

It had been months since I’d touched my darts, and it showed. My first few throws were off the board. Yeah, I don’t recall being that bad, even as a rookie. The longer I threw, the better my accuracy became, but it was still nowhere near the level I need to achieve to be competitive.

In one hour of practice, I threw one 6-mark, two 5-marks, and a 3-bulls shot.

My big concern is that the lack of consistency is compounded by the fact that my darts are frequently “leaners” (not going into the board straight) which can result in fallouts and blocked shots. Anyway, it was only day one of practice; we’ll see how it goes on Saturday.

Where to next? I’m taking a break from several of my usual haunts for now (Snackbar, Cheap Charlies, It Doesn’t Matter, and Blue Butterfly), leaving me twenty-something venues to choose from. Well, I needed some exercise (that was my excuse), so I hoofed it across town and paid an off-schedule visit to Hideaway Bar. What can I say? I’m comfortable there.

When it was time to move on, I made my way to BarCelona for a couple more beers. Service was marginally better, and I do enjoy the atmosphere that comes with sitting outdoors on the rooftop.

And then, as I made my way home, I decided to live dangerously, and I popped into Sloppy Joe’s, the scene of the robbery I posted about yesterday. No one tried to steal my necklace (probably because I wasn’t wearing one). I did wind up buying a lady drink. My waitress there remembered me from the pre-scamdemic days when she worked at Man Cave. Don’t worry; I have no interest in engaging in the bargirl game and the chicanery associated with it; this was just a “nice to see you again” drink. In fact, I left before she finished drinking it.

I participated in a very nice hike today that I’ll post about tomorrow, but we did finish at Dynamite Dick’s where Dick updated us on the stabbing incident I mentioned in yesterday’s post. So it seems the culprit, ironically named Cutter, is a guy from Seattle in his mid-30s. Dick wasn’t there at the time of the incident, but he told us Cutter’s victim (the wife) is still in the hospital recovering from her wounds. The actions of Cutter were entirely out of character and resulted from some kind of mental breakdown, which may or may not have been fueled by drugs (meth is pretty popular with some folks here).

The wife declined to press charges against her husband, so police released him to the custody of immigration officials who transported Cutter to Manila for deportation. Apparently, Cutter had another breakdown, and then authorities gave him a shot of something to calm him down. Cutter then went into cardiac arrest and died. So, I guess that’s the end of the story.

This evening I’ll be attending the SOB at Hot Zone. And that’s where things stand as of now.