Not a lot of Hashing

Of course, my brain seems to be emptying out these days. I guess that’s one way to lose weight.

Yesterday’s Hash Run #1699 is in the books. A portion of the short trail happened to intersect with my chosen path (the My Bitch trail), so in that sense, I was On-On. From what I’ve seen, the long trail was an ass-kicker, including a climb to the Kalaklan Ridge and a steep and slippery descent. I noticed quite a few Hashers had dirt on their backsides from sliding down on their ass. Glad I missed out on that fun!

The trail began and ended at the Hare’s house (Tiny Cunt) located at the far end of Rizal Extension. That is my least favorite area to Hash because it is hard to access without a vehicle. My plan was to walk from my place to Tiny Cunt’s, then leave the Circle early and walk back to town. As it turned out, not far down the road, a trike dropped a passenger (many trikes can’t make it up the steep road, so they are hard to find), and we provided the driver a fare back to It Doesn’t Matter. I’d call that a win-win.

Once again, BF’s Wet Spot and Cums Alone joined me on my trail.
On the Bitch.
Next Monday is the annual Easter Mountain trail. The hard trail climbs the mountain, the easy trail goes around it.
A hello and cookies for Mountain Mama Onelia.
Evidence that we were indeed on the Hash trail, albeit briefly and in the wrong direction.
The hazy day view from here.
Heading On-Home.

During the Hash Circle, Cums Alone was recognized for her 75th run with the Subic Bay Hash House Harriers.

I presented her with the commemorative headband.
Then it was time to head back down to town before the sun was done.
Unexpectedly catching that trike cut a good 2K off my trail. Oh well, 4K was enough.

A bigger than usual after-Hash gathering at IDM.

The Hash Gash enjoying some food and beverages.

I declared it a “cheat night” and went to buy some ice cream. Swan started flirting with the trike drivers. Just kidding about that last part, but I did enjoy some ice cream for the first time in a week. And that’s how the Hash Monday went down.

Four years ago, I was the most popular (and only) customer at the Outback Billabong bar.

My friend, Bhel, was the bartender there back then. When she left, I stopped going.

It’s June 2018 in the LTG archives, and the SBH3 Hash trail was so fun it had me in stitches. Fucking barbed wire. I’ve had some cuts, scratches, and bruises over the years, but luckily this only happened once.

Blood on the trail.
Getting things sewn up in the ER.

Today’s YouTube video attempts to answer the question of whether expats are happier in Thailand or the Philippines. I think it does a pretty good job of citing the strengths of both countries, and it all comes down to what works best for you.

And now on with the funny stuff:

What rhymes with orange?
Um, dude, did you look at what you are talking to?
Welcome to my world, kid.

And now it is on with my Tuesday. I reckon there are some darts and beers in my future.

Giving it what I got

My life’s road, my rules.

I made it through another Hash Monday alive, so I ain’t complaining. As usual, I did it my way. Started with a walk from my house to the start, then I picked up the Hare’s (Kermit the Frog) short trail from there. It began with a climb that was a lot harder than I remembered, or perhaps it was harder because I’m not as strong as I once was. Either way, I pushed myself and slowly made it to the top. I’ll call that a victory for the elderly!

I arrived at the trailhead five minutes before the scheduled 2 pm departure. Many of my fellow Hashers had elected to start early and had already hit the trail. No big deal, I was going my own way anyhow.
This is the option I took. I’m not sure I’d call it fun, but it was challenging enough for me.
Let the climbing begin! Demented Dickhead and Cums Alone joined me for the adventure.
Upsy-daisy…
I guess that’s not a daisy, but I liked it enough to pause for a photo.
We hit a wall, but made it through.
Things finally started to level out.
Well, there were still some elevation gains to be conquered, but nothing like that first hill.
A climb does have its rewards.
A beautiful day in the barrio we call Barretto.
Then we made our way back down to the real world.
My trail came in at 4K.
The Hash Gash hanging out at the Hotel Bella Monte On-Home venue.
There were some old guys there, too.
Speaking of old guys, these are the three living legends of the Subic Bay Hash House Harriers. Pubic Head, Queen Ass Wipe, and Road Whore, each with more than 1000 runs.
It’s nice on ice!

And as usual, there was some after-Hash revelry at It Doesn’t Matter:

Enjoy the life you have.
Through the years. Every 100 runs, the Hash issues a celebratory hat. These are the ones I’ve been around for since joining the Hash in 2018. Yesterday’s run was number #1698, but the hats commemorating the upcoming 1700th Hash were on sale, so I picked mine up early.

And so ended another day in the Hash.

It is now May 2018 in the LTG archives, and as I’m making final preparations for the big move to the PI, I look back on the other moves I’ve made in life. Moving from Arizona to Arkansas was *almost* as culturally challenging as the move from Virginia to Korea twenty years later. Living in Korea was life-changing. And the rest, as they say, is history.

Today’s YouTube video is one I could relate to: Fat Man Walking. I’m taking some drastic steps to change the equation. We’ll see soon how that works out for me.

And now for some more of what my twisted mind finds funny:

As long as you don’t split infinitively.
Well, if you are out of beer, at least you didn’t get bombed.
Abbot and Costello did this first (and better).

And there you have it, assuming “you” or anyone else is out there. I’ll likely keep plugging away regardless. I’m on a mission!

No regrets

I’m a descendant of Robert the Bruce. Or so I’ve been told.

Things went fine on my personal Hash trail yesterday, other than it being a little bit boring. The Hare’s trail was 6K long, and mine was a tad over 7K, so you can’t accuse me of shortcutting. Of course, a Guenter trail has several climbs and descents and is much more challenging than my one-up, one-down route. The other “cripples” did a shorter and easier version of the Hare’s trail (most on the My Bitch route), but I just wasn’t feeling like going that way again. Anyway, it is what it is, and I have no regrets. There comes a time when you just embrace your limitations and go out and do what suits you best.

My followers yesterday were Cums Alone and BF’s Wet Spot. The first portion of our trail departed Alta Vista and went to the starting point of the official Hash trail near the end of Rizal Extension.
Now that we have that out of the way…
The path leading to our climb.
Up top, we were passed by three other Hashers from Alta Vista (Anal Receptive, Anal Intruder, and Leech My Nuggets), who were also making their way to the Hash start.
These ashes were still smoldering as we walked by.
Our view from on high.
Arriving at the Hash trail starting point.
And then it was On-On! They went their way, and I went mine.
As seen along the way. Hmm, I reckon I’ve violated all of them, except for the littering.
My trail took us down Rizal Extension.
Then onto Abra Street.
The gals stopped for a snack at this sari-sari store on Abra.
Heading up the National Highway.
Turning down Zamora Street.
Then onto Dagupan Street.
A few steps on Cagayan…
…then a long stretch of Jolo Street.
Del Pilar was next.
Then Gabaya.
And finally, the last street on our trek: Laguna. This portion was part of the real Hash trail.
That’s always music to my eyes.
Arriving On-Home at Cyclone Bar.
The trails I didn’t take.
And the one I did.
The Gash table.
Old farts chillaxin’
Why you don’t wear new shoes to the Hash.
Heading to the after-Hash gathering at It Doesn’t Matter.
The gals hangout at IDM.
And some grumpy-looking old folks.

A few beers later, and it was time to call it a night. And so another Hash Monday was survived, and no falls this week.

Well, I’ve always known women have a monthly period, but now I see they have an annual monthly here in the Philippines.

Onward in the March 2018 LTG archives, with a post about my career’s final team-building excursion to the Byeonsan National Park way down south on the West Sea. Damn, it was one of the most beautiful places I’d seen for the first and last time in Korea. But what I miss most are the people I shared those memories with. Lots of photos in that post, so have a look if you are so inclined.

Today’s YouTube video features the tale of the vlogger who moved to the Philippines with a $2,000-a-month income and was broke in six months. Um, that’s what happens when you spend more than you earn. And his excuse about not thinking of pesos in terms of dollars is just about as ignorant. I use 50 pesos to the dollar, which makes calculating pretty easy. I tend to live large and spend large (2200 pesos at IDM last night is a good example), but I have a budget three times the size of his. Even so, I find clean, comfortable hotel rooms for half the price he was paying. You can get by on two grand a month here, but you have to be smart about it.

Let’s move on to the humor. Sometimes, real life can be funnier than a joke. Especially if you are stupid:

You really can’t make this stuff up. Some of these moments are so unbelievable, they sound like jokes—but they actually happened.

1. The McNugget Mystery

Recently I stopped by McDonald’s and noticed the menu offered Chicken McNuggets in orders of 6, 9, or 12.

So I said to the teenager at the counter, “I’d like a half-dozen nuggets.”

She looked at me and replied, “We don’t have half-dozen nuggets.”

“You don’t?” I asked.

“No,” she said seriously. “We only have six, nine, or twelve.”

I blinked. “So… I can’t order a half-dozen, but I can order six?”

“That’s right.”

I just shook my head and said, “Okay… I’ll take six nuggets.”

Unbelievable… but apparently true.

It reminded me of the same place where I once asked for sweetener for my coffee and was told, “We don’t have sweetener—only sugar or Splenda.”

2. The Checkout Divider

Another time I was checking out at Walmart with just a few items. The woman behind me placed her groceries right up against mine on the conveyor belt.

To keep them separate, I grabbed one of those little divider bars and placed it between our items.

After the cashier scanned everything I bought, she picked up the divider and started turning it over in her hands, searching for the barcode so she could scan it too.

After a moment she looked at me and asked, “Do you know how much this costs?”

I said, “Actually… I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think I’ll buy that today.”

She simply nodded. “Okay.”

I paid for my things and left. She never realized what had just happened.

But the woman behind me was trying very hard not to laugh.

3. Online Shopping… Sort Of

At work one day, I noticed a woman repeatedly sliding her credit card into the floppy-disk drive on her computer and quickly pulling it back out.

Confused, I asked what she was doing.

She replied, “I’m shopping online, and the website keeps asking for my credit card number. So I’m using the ATM thing on the computer.”

I didn’t even know what to say.

4. The Remote That Wouldn’t Work

One afternoon I saw a young woman standing beside her car, looking very upset and wiping away tears.

I asked if she needed help.

She explained, “I knew I should have replaced the battery in my remote door unlocker. Now it won’t work and I can’t get into my car. Do you think that store over there might have the right battery?”

I asked, “Does your car have an alarm system too?”

“No,” she said. “Just this remote.”

She handed me the remote and her car keys.

I simply took the key… put it in the door… and unlocked it.

Then I handed the keys back and said, “Why don’t you drive over there and check for the battery? It’s a long walk.”

5. The Photocopier Trick

Years ago we had an intern who wasn’t exactly the quickest thinker.

One day she was typing and turned to a secretary and said, “I’m almost out of typing paper. What should I do?”

The secretary replied, “Just use some paper from the photocopier.”

The intern nodded, took her last blank sheet of paper, placed it on the copier… and made five “copies” of it.

Five completely blank sheets.

6. The Emergency Call

A worried mother once called 911 because her young child had eaten some ants.

The dispatcher calmly told her, “Give him a little antihistamine medicine and he should be fine.”

The mother replied, “Oh… well, I already gave him some ant killer.”

The dispatcher paused for a moment and then said, “Ma’am, please take your child to the emergency room immediately.”

Sometimes real life is stranger—and funnier—than anything you could invent. 😄

We’ll leave it at that for today. Thanks for dropping by. I really do appreciate my readers.

HaHa, I hadn’t heard this song in so long I’d forgotten it existed. But, damn, it seems more relevant than ever now. You listening, Iran?

Rockin’ it then rollin’

What if you are full of both?

So, about that Hash trail I did yesterday instead of the one the Hare worked so hard to prepare. I just wasn’t feeling up for the long, hard climb to the Kalaklan Ridge. Instead, I did the portion of last week’s long trail that I missed. It was the right call because my elevation gain was only about a third of what getting to the top of Kalaklan would have been, and I was pretty whacked when I finished my hill.

Then came the part of the trail going down where I fucked up and suffered my first Hash crash in years. It wasn’t even that steep, but I stepped on a loose rock, and it rolled under my foot like a roller skate, causing me to lose balance and come down hard on my right side. It hurt, but it would have been worse if I’d rolled over a cliff. Some scrapes and bruises on my leg and arm seemed to be the extent of the damage. Until I woke up this morning with a sharp pain in my lower back when I bend over or try to lift my leg. Just getting in and out of the car today for the grocery shopping was torturous. And I can’t remember the last time I had to sit down to put on my pants. Hopefully, this hurtin’ goes away soon.

The only two Hashers on my trail.
Let’s get started.
Passing through Marian Hills.
Let the climbing begin.
A view on the way up.
My fantasy cabin in the woods.
We didn’t do this part of the trail last week, but we’ve got it done now.
The ridge we didn’t climb this week.
My little town.
The other side of town.
Splendor in the grass.
Welcome to the Philippines!
Right up above that chalk line is where I did the rock and roll thing. It could have been worse.
This week’s On-Home venue.
The trail I did…
…and the trail I didn’t do.
I’m still standing.
Oldsters shootin’ the shit.
Gals doing their thing.
It’s nice on ice!

Did the after-Hash gathering at It Doesn’t Matter, then we made our way home glad to still be among the living.

Speaking of which, Facebook memories today took me back twelve years, to when I was competing in a regional darts tournament in Augusta, Georgia.

That’s me with my pal James Stoy. He died a few months later.
My bestie Bridget Werner was also in attendance. She passed away three years later.

It’s the 2018 New Year in the LTG archives, and in this post, I recount the adventure of my very first Hash. And now, I’ve completed 393 Hash Runs, making me #12 for the most in SBH3. I’ve had several Hash crashes over the years, including one that left me in stitches, but I’m still going. I get knocked down, but I get up again…

Today’s YouTube video explains the economic model of the ubiquitous and uniquely Filipino sari-sari store. I rarely patronize them myself, but they are everywhere, often several within one block. I don’t know how they make any money, but I guess the goal is to just make enough to open tomorrow.

Laugh until the pain goes away:

Reminds me of the time I stuck it in the wrong hole, and I wasn’t even golfing.
Man, that guy gets around.
Now watch me pull a Robin out of my hat.

I’m gonna have to pass on darts today since I can’t bend over to pick up my bounce-outs. Oh, and you know what a week without ice cream got me? A one-pound weight GAIN. Oh well, I’m not ready to give up.

The trail, the whole trail, and nothing but the trail

Now watch me pull a rabbit out of my hat…

I’m here to report that I survived another Hash Monday. This one wasn’t all that difficult thanks to the Hare’s efforts at accommodation for the old, fat, and frail. Anal Receptive actually laid two trails, a 10K with three hills, and a mostly flat 4K trail. I’m sure y’all know which route I chose. I did add 1.6K to the effort by walking to the start from my house. Here’s some of what I saw along the way:

The view as I departed Alta Vista.
We gathered at the APO Resort for the start of the trail.
And away we go!
The Hare was kind enough to construct a ladder to make getting down from this wall easy on us cripples.
It’s a rare event to be able to walk across this rice field when it is dry.
An almost pleasant stroll.
Some pavement time on the streets of San Isidro.
Heading back up into Alta Vista.
A high view from Alta Vista. But I repeat myself.
Leaving Alta Vista.
I was pleasantly surprised that the Hare found a back way around that newly constructed fence that blocks my shortcut to Barretto. I’ll be using this route regularly in the future.
Heading On-Home.
It’s been several months since we last had a Hash gathering at Johansson’s.
The way I rolled.
Gash waiting for the Circle to commence.
Gash at the Circle.
The Subic Bay Hash House Harriers doing what Hashers do.
It’s nice on ice!

Some after-Hash time at It Doesn’t Matter, then I called it a day. Keep ’em coming!

From the November 2017 LTG archives, I’m offering up the unprecedented three-for: each post has a similar theme as I make my way out of the recent heartbreak I’d experienced. The Dating Game is about my online and real-time efforts. Who’s Your Daddy covers a night out on the town with my buddy Duke. And Keep the Customers Satisfied is about my exploits as an asshole. A gal named Joy is the common denominator in all three posts. I’d forgotten all about her until re-reading these posts. Let me say I’m sorry again, Joy.

And in another odd coincidence, today’s YouTube video is about the seven signs you are a stupid person. I’m smart enough to recognize that at least five of them apply to me.

At least I’m good for a laugh:

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Enjoy those virgin goats!
I never knew…
Be careful what you wush for.

And that, my friends, is all he wrote. For today.

Still a Hash Hound Harrier

And then you start forgetting everything you thought you knew.

I might not be the same Hash hound that I once was, but this old dog still hunts for a way to make it through the trail each week. Some days that’s easier than others, but yesterday’s run didn’t exceed my limits. It was kind of the Hares to offer a mostly flat version of their trail so I could avoid climbing Black Rock without shortcutting. I still enjoy getting out and about, but I know my limits. We’ll see how long I last.

The Harriet’s: Lick and Spit, Fuck Buddy, Derby’s Bitch, and Anal Intruder.
Hashers gather at the start in Alta Vista.
A cow and a mountain.
Getting down!
It’s nice on rice!
Katchi kapshida!
A fairly well-marked trail.
The way ahead.
On the backroads of San Isidro.
A beer stop at Covid 69’s house. I like beer, and I like hiking. But not at the same time. I stuck with water.
Back on the trail.
Leaking Willy did the long trail and looked tired when he caught up with us short-trail slowpokes.
Our come-to-Jesus moment.
Our heavenly view.
Making our way down to the On-Home at Smokes and Bottles.
Hash Gash.
Chillin’ before the Circle.
Chillin’ on ice in the circle.
A Hashy birthday!
The long and short of it. My version was just shy of 6K.

Some after-Hash imbibing at It Doesn’t Matter brought the day’s fun to its usual conclusion. Enjoy it while you can!

More high school memories courtesy of old Facebook posts. Once I thought myself a poet and penned these verses for my sweetheart:

The object of my affections:

She moved away during my senior year.

It is now October 2017 in the LTG archives, and in this post, I announce that my time in Korea will end when my lease expires in May 2018. Work was the only positive thing in my life back then, and giving it up was a difficult decision. Looking back, I wonder if it was the right one. Then again, as commenter Brian pointed out, you can’t add time to the back end of your retirement. You live with your choices, and at least now the pain and depression I was experiencing then are gone.

Today’s YouTube video features Reekay educating folks on methods to access their money after moving to the Philippines. For my first few years, I relied almost exclusively on my ATM card to get cash. That’s an expensive method at 250 pesos a pop, but also the most convenient. But I’ve also maintained access to wire transfer services (I currently use Remitly and Wise) for paying my helpers and the rent. My credit card situation has been more frustrating, but the new one should hopefully be arriving soon. That’s my insurance money, should I need emergency medical care (private hospitals won’t admit without proof of ability to pay, and public hospitals are where you go to die).

And now for something a little more fun:

More fun to read than create, I reckon.
And that’s where we’re.
Now do beer.

Okay, now it’s time for me to get in some dart practice. We’ll see if I can carry Friday’s winning performance forward. Only one way to find out.

You RED that right

The scene of the crime(s). Tropical Garden, Treasure Island, Viking, Snack Bar, Sloppy Joe’s, Cheap Charlies, Red Bar, then On-Home at It Doesn’t Matter.

The Hashers gathered at the Tropical Garden on Baloy Beach at 2 pm to kick off the Red Dress Hash Run. I’d never visited Tropical Garden before and had my first beer of the day there. It’s a nice place.

Sir Clitoris at the Tropical Garden.
My red “dress” was a hooded cloak.
Hashers on the beach, going to the first stop on the bar crawl, Treasure Island.
Dressed for suck cess.
Our Hash Grandmaster, Buddy Fucker, hails from Montana.
Making our way to our second stop, Viking Resort.
At Viking.
The third venue, SnackBar.
That would be Tiny Cunt, looking like, well…
Stop #4, Sloppy Joe’s.
What’s a Hash without a climb?
The 5th venue, Cheap Charlies.
The Hash Gash at Cheap Charlies.
Red Bar was the last stop on the bar crawl.
Then we moved on to It Doesn’t Matter for the Hash Circle.
Who’s the breast one?
I prefer the real thing.
Cums Alone receiving recognition for her 69th Run with the Subic Bay Hash House Harriers.
Slippery When Wet got the Hashit this week.
It’s nice on ice! Or so the saying goes.

And that’s the way my first Red Dress Hash Run went down. The beers also went down. Seven (one at each stop on the bar crawl) before I got to the On-Home venue. Four more or so during the Hash Circle. And probably three beers at the after-Hash gathering. You can do the math, but that total exceeds my consumption limit. Especially when San Miguel Zero is no longer available. Suffice to say, by the time I got home, I was floored. Or so Swan says. I don’t remember a thing.

Practice, practice, practice.

From the July 2017 LTG archives: I’m back in Korea after my visit to Barretto, reflecting on how I hope to be living after making the move. Two lines in that post that stood out:

“I am so glad that my future will not include being a lonely old man looking for love in all the wrong places.”

“As the prophet has said, man does not live by bars alone.”

Oh, well. The best laid plans don’t always turn out the way you intended.

In today’s YouTube video, the vlogger discusses how breaking the expat rules can lead to a better life. Well, I’d say to each his own, and some things depend on the lifestyle and location you prefer. I remember as a tourist here, I’d frequently get sick after a couple of days, and I suspected it was the water. These days, I still drink bottled water, but I cook and brush my teeth with tap water. I probably have acquired immunity by now. As for living with relatives, my new live-in housekeeper is Swan’s niece. I’ve agreed to allow her husband and two kids to join her in the basement (it’s a fully equipped, separate living area). I don’t expect there will be any problems with that. As for his other points, I’m following my own rules that work for me. So yeah, I live in a subdivision, but I can still hear the Philippines from here. I’ve not immersed myself in the local culture; I hang out with other expats and dine on the foods I like in nice restaurants. I can afford this lifestyle, and for the most part, I’m happy with it.

And now for today’s lame humor attempts:

She gets all his Woody.
But at least there are no breakfast dishes to wash.
I didn’t check the math…

And that’s all I’ve got for today.

Roughin’ it or wussin’ it?

A swingin’ Valentine’s Day.

The long day’s journey into night began with a 7 a.m. pickup by our driver, Bong. The first stop was the gas station to fill up with 2500 pesos’ worth of fuel for the trip. Then we met fellow Hasher Beth (BF’s Wet Spot), loaded her camping gear into the car, and were ready to hit the road. I put the destination into my Google Maps app, and we were on our way.

It was an uneventful drive until we reached the end of the expressway. Google told us to go one way and driver Bong wanted to take the route to Baguio he was familiar with. I told him, “up to you,” and we proceeded his way. Normally, the map apps recalibrate to follow the chosen road. Not this time. The Google voice kept telling us to turn around, so I knew something was wrong. I advised Bong that since we weren’t technically going to Baguio City (the venue is actually in Tuba, Benguet), we should go the way Google wants us to. That turned out to be the right call. I spoke with a Hasher who went the other way, and it took him an additional 2.5 hours due to heavy traffic in Baguio.

I’ve always been fond of mountain drives and enjoyed many journeys in the Rockies and Sierras when I lived in the USA. That said, I don’t recall a more narrow, twisty-turny, steep route than the one that took us to our final destination. The excitement was heightened by blind-corner passing, necessitated by idiots who parked and blocked one of the two lanes. It was both a beautiful and a scary ride, but Bong got us there alive.

There were also a couple of impressive tunnels we passed through on the way up, including this one-lane version.
Destination achived!
We arrived at 11:30 and things were still being prepared for the afternoon Hash gathering.
We pitched a tent for Beth and one for Bong.

I opted to stay in a kubo instead of a tent.

My lodging for the night. Don’t let looks deceive you.

That’s kubo #2 (out of three units). Inside, there are FOUR separate rooms, two down and two up.

Looking through the kubo’s front door, you can see two of the rooms. I was thankful to be in the lower room, but later, maybe not so much.
Inside our “room.” I’ve seen bigger walk-in closets. And that thin mattress pad was better than sleeping on the ground, but not much.
I can’t say we weren’t warned.

Oh, there were two toilets behind our kubo, shared by the four guest rooms. The toilets didn’t flush, so you scooped buckets of water into them until the nastiness went away.

Also, the kubos weren’t at the campsite; you had to walk down quite a few steps to get to them. I didn’t count how many, but I was sweating bad when I walked back up to camp.

This photo is from the campsite. That red car down there is parked across the road from the kubos.

But the worst part of the kubo experience was the noise. I swear, every time the person sleeping upstairs from us rolled over on the bed, we could hear the bamboo loudly creaking through the floor. And whoever it was did a lot of tossing and turning throughout the night. All in all, a tent with an air mattress would have been preferable.

Oh, and speaking of noise, someone at the campsite was doing karaoke until one in the morning or so. Luckily, we were far enough away that it didn’t bother us much. I mean, it couldn’t drown out the creaking floor from upstairs. Bong, in his nearby tent, said it kept him awake.

I guess this rule doesn’t apply when the Hash has rented all the space.

Anyway, enough bitching about the minor shit like accommodations, we came for the Hash! We were checked into our room a little after twelve. A Hash lunch was scheduled for 1:30 with the trail due to begin at 2:30. So we had some time to look around.

Loved the signage on the bar.
Swan had a swingin’ good time.
A little bit further up the hill was an actual motel-like room. Wish I’d known about that beforehand. It was already booked by a LUH3 Hasher, of course.
Looking back down at the campground.
Hey, good lookin’!
Beth, Swan, and Bong at the campsite. Bong wasn’t a Hash participant, but we’d packed plenty of food and beers for him to help pass the time.
Other arriving Hashers setting up camp. I understand there were thirty tents, all told.

I was surprised to see that food delivery was available up here (presumably from Baguio), but at the appointed time, a motorcycle rider pulled up with twenty boxes of pizza. Each Hasher was afforded two slices, and I ate mine in due course.

And then right before the Hash run was set to begin, this happened. Yep, those clouds are full of raindrops.

I was really on the fence about the Hash trail. There was no “easy” trail available, and the Hare assured me that shortcutting wasn’t possible either. On the plus side, the trail wasn’t long (around 5K), but on the flip side, it was steep downs and ups the entire length.

Last-minute guidance from the Hare, Booked Up. Well, fuck it. I came to Hash. Let’s go!
We began by going down the super steep road leading to the campground. With each step, I was dreading the thought of hoofing it back up here at the end of the trail.
And oh yeah, it was still raining.
The view from here.
Time for a pee break.
After a kilometer or so on the highway we came in on (all downhill), we got off the pavement and continued our downward journey. You don’t see any other Hashers because we were bringing up the rear by a long shot.
That path took us through this pigsty, and then into the jungle.
Damn, this down was a lot more difficult than I’d bargained for.
But the up was so much worse!

And then, when we got to the top, the trail almost immediately headed back down through the jungle. Fuck that! I could see some nice houses and figured there must be a road to reach them, so the search was on. And by golly, we found not only a road, but the actual highway leading back to the On-Home campground. Better yet, it was part of the Hash trail. I consulted Google Maps just to make sure, but we were on the road to success. Which, of course, is always uphill. Also, I’m a master shortcutter!

And then we got passed by the female Hasher known as Front Running Bitch (I don’t think that’s her actual Hash name, but she is consistently the first LUH3 Hasher to finish the trail.
That relentless uphill highway walk totally kicked my ass. And when I was faced with that long, hard climb back up to the campground, I had to sit down and contemplate options.

And I decided to call Bong to come down and pick me up. Yeah, I’m not proud of it, but I was wiped out.

Much harder than it looks. At least it was for me

Back in the safe confines of the Hash On-Home, I do what most Hashers do after a grueling trail: I opened a bottle of beer, sat down, and waited for dinner to be served.

The burgers hot off the grill were muy bien!
Hungry (and thirsty) Hashers filling the void.
The rain stopped, but then the fog rolled in. I figured the sunset I was hoping to enjoy was doomed.
But the horizon did clear up some a bit later.
And we got to see some color.
I was seeing red by the time it was done.

La Union Hash Circles are much more mellow than the ones in Subic, and that’s fine with me. We all pulled up our chairs around the bonfire and enjoyed the comraderie.

Flame on!

I stuck around later than usual, hoping the beers would help me sleep through the night. As I mentioned earlier, they didn’t. I slept in bits and pieces, eventually giving up around 6 am. We packed our gear and headed up the stairs to the campsite.

The morning view from in front of our kubo.
And a morning campsite view. You can barely make it out on the mountainside, but that’s as close as we got to Baguio this trip.
Here, let me zoom in on it for you. Of course, that’s only a small portion of the large city of Baguio.

Bong and Beth were up and about shortly after we got to the campsite. The Hash breakfast wasn’t scheduled until 9, so we packed up our gear, said our goodbyes and thank-yous, and headed for home. Google Maps unsurprisingly took us back the same way we came.

Going down the mountain, I thought to myself, those rock retaining walls wouldn’t keep a vehicle from plummeting over the edge into nothingness.

And if that happened, you would never land.
We were above the clouds.

And now I’m back in Barretto safe and sound. Feeling tired, though, for some reason.

So, dear readers, I’ll leave it up to you: Did I rough it, or am I a pussy? At least I lived to tell about it.

I’ll get back to the usual posting BS tomorrow. Thanks for stopping by.

The wild blue yonder

My VD gift from Swan.

Just a quick post before I head for the mountain city Baguio to take part in the La Union Valentine’s Day Hash. The event includes an overnight campout at a place called The Green Narra. I’m a tad nervous about how this adventure might play out for me, but you only live once.

It’s been a long time since I’ve roughed it.

It gets chilly up in the mountains, so hopefully the sweatshirt I bought in Vietnam will keep me warm during the Hash Circle. I’m pretty sure trekking up and down the surrounding hills will have me huffing and puffing up a good sweat.

Here’s a walkabout video showing what the camping area looks like.

I’ll be back tomorrow to tell you how it went. Wish me luck!

Where cripples tread

I’m not against descending; it’s the ups I find difficult.

Yesterday’s Hash trail was almost completely flat. Well, to clarify, the “cripples” trail had no hills. I’ve now deemed Leech My Nuggets to be the overall best Hare in the Subic Hash. His trails are always well-marked and easy to follow. And Mr. Leech always offers an option for those Hashers who are no longer up for the challenge of a long, hard climb. I enjoyed the 5K version of the trail very much, as it took me through areas I hadn’t seen before. In fact, I’ll be adding this hike to my repertoire and revisiting it in the future. Our On-Home venue was at a Hasher’s house in Calapadayan, which we’d never been to before. It’s situated right on the edge of the bay and was a very pleasant hangout for our Circle. Overall, it was one of my better Hash experiences.

So, the trail began at Subic High School near Waltermart, a 7K Jeepney ride from Barretto. Here’s some of what I saw during the Hash:

Off we go!
Only a month younger than me. RIP Rodolfo.
The first of several bridges we crossed on our journey. Also, the sturdiest.
The early portion of the trail ran along the banks of the Magnan-Vaca River.
Where the long and short trails diverged. Except Leech My Nuggets doesn’t use the term “short.”
I’d never been this far down the river before.
A new way to go is always nice to find.
And here’s another place to go.
But I’m not ready to go there yet.
The biggest challenge we faced was a series of rickety bridges.
Like this one…
…and that one.
I’m happy to report that they all carried the load.
The path ahead.
A gathering of “cripples.”
Sweets for the sweet.
Riverboats.
I’ve learned to deal with a fork in the road, but what do you do when you encounter two?
That old gal doing her laundry is one of my charity projects.
We don’t run into her that often, but on the occasions when we do, we slip her 500 pesos. She is raising her deceased daughter’s kids, and it’s a struggle, I’m sure.
Now we are on the home stretch.
Arriving at Sully’s place.
The purple “cripple” trail bypassed the hill climb before rejoining the main trail. I enjoyed the riverwalk.
Our host for the evening, Sully.
Hanging out at Sully’s place.
Some Hash Gash.
I enjoyed the trail so much that I voluntarily joined the Hare (Leech is on the right) on the ice.
It’s nice on ice!
And then it was time for the sun to go down…
…and another Hash came to an end.

Some of the usual after-Hash fun (and beer) at It Doesn’t Matter, then we headed home, thankful for another fine day in paradise.

It’s still May 2017 in the LTG archives, and in this post, I share photos from my first week after moving to Pyeongtaek. It was quite an adjustment. As a bonus, here’s a tour of my “Palace,” two stories, four bedrooms, and four baths. It was like an exclamation point on my loneliness.

Today’s YouTube video is one I made thirteen years ago as I prepared to depart Korea for some USA time. It depicts how I filled the months I spent in Korea with the woman I so dearly loved. I didn’t know then what was just around the corner, and that the life I was living and loving would soon come to an end.

Time to cheer myself up:

I never saw such a bad pun.
That stinks.
And why is it a crime?

Another day, another post. Now it’s time to practice my darts in preparation for the tournament this evening. I’m eating before I go this time to take the edge off my grumpiness. I’ll let you know how that works out for me.

Coming apart

Well, what it doesn’t solve, it helps you forget.

Here’s the lowdown on yesterday’s Hash run. I joined a rather large group of shortcutters who avoided the Kalaklan Ridge climb and did the second part of the trail. Including the 2K walk from my house to where we started, I had a satisfying 6K hike with one hill. That’s enough for me these days.

I’m pretty sure the shortcutters outnumbered the Hashers who did the whole trail.
Off we go, headed up Rizal Extension.
Heading for the hills.
Upsy daisy.
Splendor in the grass.
A woodsy vibe.
Does anyone remember postcards?
Homemade shade.
Out of the hills in Marian Hills (yeah, the village itself is flat).
Anal Receptive was the first long-trail runner to pass our group.
Getting it done. A climb into Alta Vista, then onward to the On-Home at Cyclone Bar.
Some Hash Gash at Cyclone.
It’s nice on ice!
The old farts at the Circle.
That’s the trail I did half of…
My trail looked like this.

I guess I’m doing alright for a fat seventy-year-old. Some more after-Hash beers at It Doesn’t Matter, then home for some restless sleep.

That’s one of my lowest sleep scores ever.

Who’d a thunk I’d be one of those Woke bastards?

It’s still February 2017 in the LTG archives, and I’m in Barretto scoping out the possibilities of retiring there (spoiler alert: I did). Anyway, lots of pictures and memories. You can check out the post for yourself, but here are a couple:

It was over a year later when I made the move, but this house in Alta Vista was still available, so I signed a lease and lived there for three years.
One of the first friends I made in the PI was with a vlogger named John Brant. A couple of years after I moved here, John was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease. No one ever hears from him these days, but I’m told he lives in the province with his wife and her family taking care of him. A good guy who is missed.
That would be Loraine. I met her online, hired her as a tour guide, then sent her to caregiver school. I planned to have her take care of me without all the emotional attachments that come with love. I’m sure you can guess how that worked out for me.
And I also discovered the Alley Cats darts bar.

It’s interesting to look back on those days when I had one foot in the future and the other stuck in the past. That’s a good way to fall flat on your face.

Today’s YouTube video is about the mountain city of Baguio. I’m sharing it as a prelude to my upcoming excursion there for a Valentine’s Hash. I’ve been to Baguio a few times, and it is a nice place to visit, but I don’t think I would enjoy living there.

Humor me:

There’s dumb, and then there is AOC dumb.
Was Doc related to AOC?
And Picard might be my father…

Anyway, I’m off to see Dr. Jo this afternoon. My self-diagnosis is that I’m old, but I want a second opinion. My current symptoms include coughing up phlegm, high blood pressure, stiff and sore lower legs, and some lethargy. And I don’t want to sound morbid or anything, but I can’t help shaking the feeling that the end of my time is nearer than I’d hoped for. I can’t really explain these feelings, but maybe the brain knows when the body has reached its expiry date. I hope I’m wrong, but just in case, you heard it here first.

Hashing my way

I see her point.

It was back to the Hash for me after a two-week hiatus. As usual, I chose to do it my way, although my course did include a stretch of the actual trail. Anyway, it was good to hike the Bitch again. Had some beers at the On-Home venue before departing halfway through the Circle to make my way back down Rizal Extension for the after-Hash gathering at It Doesn’t Matter. Just a tad over 3K to get to the On-Home and another 3K to get back down to IDM. That was longer than the actual Hash trail, so I wasn’t shortcutting yesterday.

My fellow Hash mates, BF’s Wet Spot and Cums Alone, making our way out of Alta Vista.
This is where the My Bitch trail begins (or ends, depending on your direction).
Where dreams die. Someone cleared this lot and built this residence a couple of years ago. It’s been abandoned for more than a year now.
Getting back to my roots with nature’s natural stair steps.
Come on up, the weather is fine!
Pausing to pose at the Four Corners junction.
Getting into the high grass.
A tree I like.
That Easter Mountain shot.
Mountain Mama Onelia.
Trekking ever onward.
Proof that we were on the actual trail for run #1690 of the Subic Bay Hash House Harriers.
These kids always call me “daddy,” so, like a good father, I give them cookies and lollipops.
The view from here.
The forces of nature are devouring my unrealistic dream cabin.
Another view I like. You can just make out the bay in the distance.
Where My Bitch meets Rizal Extension. All those vehicles belong to Hashers.
My Bitch, end-to-end.
Some of the Hash Gash.
I left before the birthday cakes were made.
Making my way down Rizal Extension.
It Doesn’t Matter how I got there.
There’s that “crazy guy” beggar I mentioned in yesterday’s post, plying his trade with the Hash gals. Yeah, I gave him the usual 50 pesos.

And that was how the Hash day went down.

It’s Thanksgiving in the November 2016 LTG archives, and despite my broken heart, I found much to be thankful for. Interestingly, Choonae (the author of the travel guide to Cuba) is still a Facebook friend and she is currently in Cuba. Like the good commie she is, she still finds the bright side of things there, despite the continuous power outages. She’s a nice woman (happily married now), and I wish her all the best.

We haven’t checked in with Smart Girl Philippines in a while, so for today’s YouTube video, let’s see what she has to say about the seven types of Filipinas it is best to avoid. Not that it matters to me these days.

And now for the funny business:

Beam him up!
He’s being railroaded, but is too blind to see it.
Well, when the chips are down, what are you going to do?

Enough of that for today. Had some banking issues this morning that foiled my shopping plans. I’ll tell you about that tomorrow. It’s Tuesday, and that means a Baloy Beach excursion and some time on the Kokomo’s floating bar await me.

The first and the last

We need to pause and put a stop to this.

So, yesterday I completed my first Hash of the year. It was also my last one until I return from Vietnam at the end of the month. And oh, by the way, I did the entire trail without shortcutting. Yes, you read that right. Granted, it was the short version of the trail laid by the Hare (a little over 6K; the long was 8.5K), but I did it all without deviation. I was tempted in places to do things my way, but I overcame that urge and plodded on. In another first (at least in my experience with the Subic Hash), a fellow Hasher was run over by a motor scooter while crossing the road. He and the cyclist escaped with only scrapes and bruises, so in that sense, it was a lucky day.

Here are some photos from the Hash run:

We gathered at the Alta Vista Clubhouse, which made things easy for me (a five-minute walk from home).
The Hare, Anal Receptive, gives last minute guidance on the trail.
And we are On-On!
Leaving Alta Vista behind.
Through the familiar backstreets of San Isidro.
They’ll be comin’ round the mountain when they come. Well, the guy in the blue shirt (a visitor from the US) was about to experience a major Hash crash.
That’s my nightmare every time I cross a busy road here in the PI.
Off-roaders
On-roaders
Splitting the difference. Long goes up and over Black Rock, short goes around through the graveyard.
Some of those long-trailers I mentioned.
Entering the dead zone.
Swan’s mom and brother are buried here, so we paused to pay our respects.
Why did the turkeys cross the road?
My come-to-Jesus moment on the trail.
The view from here.
I don’t blame the doctor; I wouldn’t want to go in there either.
On-Home at Smokes and Bottles, my favorite Hash venue.
It was one of the better trails I’ve hiked in a while.
Gash chilling after the hike.
Enjoying some liquid refreshment.
I joined the Hare on the ice to show appreciation for his efforts in laying a good trail.
The Hash crashers on the ice.

The usual after-Hash gathering at It Doesn’t Matter brought another day in paradise to a close. It’s good to be alive!

On to August 2016 in the LTG archives. This post is about hiking (Namsan and Han River), drinking (too much), and getting re-promoted as the Director, Human Resources, after a five-year retirement pause.

Today’s YouTube video talks about “barangay slum girls” in Angeles City—basically, just streetwalkers who ply their trade on Facebook. As I watched, I was feeling grateful that I was never really into the prostitution scene. And then I recalled some of my past “transactional relationships” and realized no matter what you call it, it is still exchanging money for sex.

Now let’s get to the funny business:

Wrinkles will soon be the least of his worries.
Better to be safe than sorry, I suppose.
That ought to do the trick.

That’s all for now.

A bit too much of nothin’

Welcome to my world.

Damn, I forgot what I was going to say. Oh yeah, it was about yesterday’s Hash at Sampaloc Cove. We had 102 Hashers in attendance. There would have been more, but the boat the Corona Hashers from Angeles City were going to use broke down, and they never made it to the cove. As it was, we had five boats carrying twenty-plus each on the one-hour-and-fifteen-minute cruise to Sampaloc. None of them sank!

This was my fourth journey to the beautiful area just outside Subic Bay on the South China Sea. What makes the place unique is its utter isolation, with access only available by boat or a several-hour hike over the mountains. Oh, and there is no electricity either. Yikes! I’ve fantasized about a rural Filipino-style life, but I’d be hard-pressed to even do an overnighter in the small village we visited yesterday. Yeah, I’m addicted to the internet and they ain’t got none. I guess I could get a Starlink connection and use solar panels to charge the phone/laptop. But they ain’t got no bars either, so what’s the point?

Anyway, kudos to the Hares, Buddy Fucker, and Yogini, for their efforts at organizing this huge event. Being the grumpy old man that I am, I had some complaints with the timing of the events, but I still managed to mostly enjoy myself. Still, an all-day outing with no avenue for escape was tough on me. We sat around for an hour or so after arrival, then did the Hash trail up to a local waterfall area. There and back again was less than 2K. Then we sat around some more while the Gash put together the potluck food buffet. Of course, there was plenty of beer to be consumed, and like the good Hashers that we are, we worked hard at emptying those cans.

After the food was consumed, there were some games that I chose not to participate in. I didn’t even bother to watch, staying in my shady chair and enjoying my beer instead. The game portion seemed to go on and on, and the Hash Circle didn’t begin until well after 3 pm. I was a tad concerned about returning to Barretto in a rickety boat after dark. However, we finally departed Sampaloc Cove around 4:30. It was still daylight for most of the trip, although it was nighttime when we disembarked at Baloy Beach.

Lots of pictures from the day to share, so let’s get to it:

I awoke to hazy skies. Most of it had burned off by the time we arrived in Sampaloc.
How much beer will 100+ Hashers consume in the course of the day? Here’s what we brought with us.
Gathering on the beach at Treasure Island prior to boarding our banca boats.
Loaded up and ready to roll, er, float.
See you later, Baloy!
Sampaloc here we come!
The way ahead.
My boat mates.
The Philippine Navy has a shipyard on the bay.
Hyundai is now running the former Hanjin shipyard.
Sampaloc Cove is just around that peninsula point in the bay.
I was intrigued by these dwellings on the hillside: no road access and no beach for a boat landing. However you get there, it must make for a hard life.
The lighthouse where the bay meets the sea.
Goodbye Subic Bay and hello South China Sea!
And up ahead is the cove they call Sampaloc.
Our venue for the Hash Outstation awaits.
Disembarking on the sands of Sampaloc.
More boats on the cove.
Let’s do this!
Lining up to pay the Hash fees. 800 pesos per head for all-you-can-eat, drink, and be merry.
Hanging out waiting for something else to do.
Gathering for the Hare’s guidance regarding the Hash trail.
And we are On-On!
Heading for the good kind of falls.
Some nice scenery along the way…
…no ifs, ands, or butts about it.
The waterhole at the top of the trail.
There was a nice rockslide into this pool, although I chose not to partake.
Fun in the sun.
A house in the middle of nowhere.
Smoke signals.
Why did this chicken cross my path?
Perhaps the shortest Hash trail in history.
Chillin’ after the hike.
A view from my perch.
Killin’ time.
Setting up the food table.
There’s something fishy going on here.
Still hanging out in the shade next to the ice chest. I brought my own San Miguel Zero since the Hash couldn’t find any for sale in town.
The Hash Gash doing their thing.
I was getting bored, and Pubic Head joined me for a beach walk.
It’s a whole other world living out here in isolation.
Some of the kids we bestowed with cookies and lollipops.
Finally, it was time to do the Hash Circle.
Having our usual block of ice was not logistically feasible, so we resorted to what the La Union Hash calls a “bucket brigade” and doused the victims with water. I definitely prefer the ice!
When the time came to board our boats for the trip back home, I was more than ready to go. Cums Alone got in a quick swim before we departed.
Meanwhile, the locals were jumping off rocks.
The drunken boat ride back to Baloy.
But at least we all made it back alive.
A race with the sun on our return journey.
A ship heading out to sea.
The sun won, and we deboarded in the dark.

And so ended a LONG, but mostly good day.

Life goes on, and it is now June 2016 in the LTG archives. In this post, I talk about bad decisions and weddings. Heh, my area of expertise! Re-reading these posts from this time period has been like pulling the scab off an old wound. I guess some things in life never leave you—especially the painful ones.

Today’s YouTube video is a golden oldie I also found in the LTG archives. It’s still pretty damn funny and less than three minutes long, so give it a look.

Let’s keep the humor rolling:

There’s more than one way to bang a girlfriend…
I’ve used this one before, but maybe not here on the blog. That’s one benefit of losing your memory, I suppose–everything old is new again.
There are always consonantes in life.

That’s all I’ve got for today.

A Sampaloc Hash

It’s a good thing I’m in my 70s then…

No, I didn’t spell “symbolic” wrong. Today’s Hash is an outstation run at the cove named Sampaloc. The cove is only accessible by boat, and it takes over an hour to get there. We’ll be departing from Baloy Beach at 0830 this morning, with a scheduled return at 5-ish. So, I’ve got a long day of Hashing/Drinking (but I repeat myself) ahead of me. Which means it is now or never for today’s post. So, let’s get to it.

This will be my fourth time visiting the scenic cove, and I’m looking forward to it. Here’s the post from my first trip in 2019, and it is chock full of photos if you want to see what I’m in for today. My return visit the following year resulted in some insanity amongst some of my fellow travelers, something I hope I’ll never experience again. I guess I’ll find out soon enough.

Not a lot to report about my yesterday. We did an abbreviated candy walk (still out of chocolate) and then got on with our modified Sunday routines. One modification was the lack of a Hideaway feeding. I’ve decided not to continue that event going forward. My charity budget can be better spent on other projects.

Another change was venturing out to the Arizona floating bar. Alas, it is not yet open for business.

So, next up was our Sunday dinner at John’s place. I’m happy to report that they were open, although the menu options were limited. No birria, no pulled pork.

Swan opted for the chow mien…
…and I went with the Philly cheesesteak.

I’m not sure what the future holds for John’s place, but it’s not looking good from my perspective.

We did our usual after-dinner visit to the patio at Red Bar, then on to Jumpin’ Jacks for our nightcap.

And that’s all there was to Sunday.

From the May 2016 LTG archives is this post about a memorable weekend in Seoul. Lots of photos of friends and places that will always hold a special place in my heart.

Today’s YouTube video features Sampaloc Cove. See for yourself.

Some quick humor before I go:

Whatever you say, dear. You’re the boss.
And now we know why.
Not bad for 78…

Gotta run. Having a trike pick us up, along with all the stuff we’re bringing, to take us to Treasure Island, where we’ll be catching our boat. At least I’ll have something of interest to post tomorrow.

Just kidding around

And you never get lost!

The annual Hash Candy Run was a success, at least as measured by the smiling faces of the treat recipients. We confined ourselves to the backstreets of Barretto, but because of an accident on the highway, traffic was backed up, and many cars were detouring through the normally quiet residential streets, making things a little harrowing for the streetwalkers. But we made it through the afternoon with no casualties, so that’s a win.

The 2025 Subic Bay Hash House Harriers Candy Run participants.
Off we go!
Smiles from the Hash Gash
It was great to see 18 Kilo Ass again. This is the first time he’s been back in Barretto since his near-fatal motorcycle accident. He walked about a kilometer on his new knee.
Santa and his elves.
Where the hell are those kids?
Ah, okay. Word that Santa was in town began to spread like wildfire.
This is one of the areas Swan and I do on our Sweet Stroll.
Lots of kids here.
And on we go to the next batch.
Just shy of 5K when we were done.
On-Home refreshments were served at It Doesn’t Matter this week.
Hares on the ice.
Thanks for joining us.

From April 2016 in the LTG archives comes this account of another weekend in my Seoul life. A Namsan climb, a Han River walk, and drinking. Lots of drinking. Some things never change.

Today’s YouTube video is a touching tribute to those people who didn’t survive 2025. Most of them were older than me, so I took some comfort in that. No idea what might come next for them, but at least the suffering is over.

The pause that refreshes?

It wasn’t me!
Well, she’ll be a widow soon, so he can marry his stepmom then.
Rudolf nose it’s true.

Had enough? Me too!

Another day in the Hash

Sounds like a good recipe. I should try it someday.

Another Hash Monday is in the books. The short version of the trail proved to be almost a walk in the park, although the uphill portions are more difficult than they used to be. We started and finished at the 13 Resort (pronounced one-three), which has some of the nicest bay views around. Best of all, I lived to post these photos:

Leech My Nuggets did his usual fine job laying the trail. The purple line was his short version, the orange line was the wimp way.
And away we go.
On the streets of a nice subdivision.
Then into the wild.
It was nice having Pubic Head on trail with us again.
These Subic Hillbillies were the day’s first cookie recipients.
Then we were back on the streets of a local neighborhood.
That’s the way it is sometimes.
Marching onward.
The highway portion of our journey.
Years ago, Eagles Bar was a Hash On-Home venue. That was before my time here, but from what I’ve heard, I’m sorry I missed it.
Arriving at yesterday’s On-Home.
That view from 13.
The Hash Gash table.
Me and her.
Pubic Head and I enjoying the view.
Circle up!
Meanwhile, this was happening.
Going down.
Over and out.
The after-Hash gathering at It Doesn’t Matter.
Being serenaded by some Christmas carolers.

And shortly thereafter, we made our way home so I could venture into the land of dreams.

I’ve marched on to March 2016 in the LTG archives, and in this pictorial post, I share the sights I saw on the backstreets of Seoul. I had one more year in Seoul, then a year in Pyeongtaek, before I said goodbye to my Korea life. It’s gone now, but never forgotten.

I saw this graphic on the size of life over at the Althouse blog. I thought it was worth the look; perhaps you will enjoy it too.

For today’s YouTube video, let’s go back to 1977 and watch a commercial for the first IBM portable computer. I didn’t buy my first home computer until the mid-90s. Now, I can’t imagine life without one. Blogging sure would be a bitch on a typewriter.

And as usual, the joke’s on me.

I guess they didn’t see that one coming. Don’t trust the words; be on the lookout for what’s to come.
Who/Me?
Nothing like reading between the lines…

Something new for me on the horizon today: my first time attending The Battle of the Bars. I’m assuming it will be SOB-like, but I’m told it’s a little spicier. Five bars are competing: Thumbstar, Queen Victoria, Red Bar, Gentlemen’s Club, and Alaska Club. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow.

Back with the SBH3

I missed the last two runs with my home kennel, so it was good to be back with the Subic Bay Hash group. I didn’t do much of the actual trail as I wasn’t feeling up to a climb to the top of the Kalaklan Ridge. When I saw the route the Hares laid to get there, I knew I had made the right call. Even some of the die-hards were bitching about how challenging the trail was. Knowing your limits is about more than beer intake, and I learned long ago that when Vienna Sausage is the Hare, I’m going my own way.

The gathering of Hashers at the edge of town.
Vienna Sausage provides last-minute guidance before starting the trail.
And we are On-On!
The up I opted out of. I’d gone that way before and added to my “never again” list.
Some other like-minded Hashers chose to follow my lead.
We met up with Pubic Head along the way.
Evidence that we did some of the flat part of the official Hash trail.
The Hare’s trail.
My trail was longer (6K) and flatter.
The On-Home venue this week was Cyclone Bar.
Circle up!
It’s nice on ice!

A visit to It Doesn’t Matter after the Hash, then back to the comfort of home sweet home. And that’s how I rolled through another day.

It’s Christmas Day in the 2015 LTG archives. I wrote about all the places I had lived in my life up to that point, including the most recent, moving out of Jee Yeun’s place into my own apartment. And I was alone again, naturally. It’s been almost ten years now, and it still hurts.

I came across today’s YouTube video on a forum I follow. I’d never heard of this comedian before, but since it was less than five minutes long, I gave his stand-up schtick a watch. Maybe you’ll enjoy it.

As long as we are doing “humor,” I’ll share these:

Ashes to ashes, lead to lead…
Sorry if I posted a version of this previously. It’s still funny, though.
Show me the DNA…

Another post, another day. Time to get on with it.

Bashing the Haggis

That all sounds bassackwards to me.

Back in Barretto to file this report on the events at yesterday’s Haggis Hash Bash in Pozorruio. To end any suspense, I maintained control over my drunk persona throughout a very long day. The best evidence of my success is that I made it up the stairs to my hotel room without assistance. I still drank more than I usually would over the course of the day, but this time I paced myself, stuck mostly to Zero low-alcohol beer, with no more than two an hour, and resisted taking any offered shots of the hard stuff. Or maybe I just got lucky.

Okay, let’s get to the Hash. There were two trail options: the long at 8 kilometers, and the shorter 7-kilometer version. Seeing as how I’m an older fucker with sore legs, and I had a hangover, I went with the 7K route.

And we are On-On!
Down the road…
…and into the fields.
A bushy goat on a rope.
Over a squishy suspension bridge that left me feeling a little seasick at the end.
That’s the bridge I’m talking about.
All the other Subic girls took the long trail, but Swan stuck with me.
The flatness of Pozorrubio would probably get boring after a while, but since I was seeing everything for the first time, I enjoyed the views.
Passed through lots of farm land.
A tree I fancied.
Flowers by the riverside were worthy of a photo.
We ain’t fast, so near the end of the trail we were bringing up the rear.
A horny cow.
I know what to do when I come to a fork in the road, but how do you deal with a fork in a post?
There was something about this tree I liked.
The route we walked.

Back on the farm, I changed into my new Haggis Hash shirt.

Our host was going for the Scottish school uniform look.
For all I know, he nailed it.

Given my circumstances from the night before, I hadn’t had anything to eat. Watching the lunch being prepared (and smelling the burgers on the grill) only exacerbated my hunger.

Grillin’.
Coleslaw.
Diced wieners waiting for some ketchup.
Putting it all together.
Burgers wrapped and ready to eat.
Hungry Hashers waiting for their turn.

The burgers and sides were quite delicious. I had my first beer of the day for dessert.

One of the Haggis traditions is playing various games and competitive events. We were divided into four teams and assigned a captain. A lot of the contests were physical (carrying someone, sack races, and the like), and my tired body wasn’t up for that. I told the captain I would cheerlead from the shade while I enjoyed some slow beer drinking.

Swan did a couple of events, including walking the plank.

They finished third. Swan says she is still sore.

I also videoed one minute of the Scottish dance competition:

We didn’t win that either.

Near the end of the contests, I got shamed into taking one for the team. For some reason, someone thought I was a natural for the beer-drinking event. What the hell, someone’s got to do it.

We took turns, and I was in the third position.
Once you’ve downed your beer, you hold the empty bottle over your head, and the next player begins drinking. We didn’t win this event either.

Then it was time to circle up.

Refreshments for the Hashers.
The sun calling it a day.
Hashers Circled up!
We weren’t in Germany, but we had a nice bonfire anyway.

I was one of the Scots invited into the Circle. I’ve never been to Scotland, but our Scottish host recognized that McCrarey is a Scottish name.

After the Circle, we moved back into the meeting area for dinner.

Our meal was introduced with the sweet sound of bagpipes.
A small sampling of haggis with potato sides was served as an appetizer. Like a good Scot, I ate all of mine, even though it is not my favorite dish.
The dining hall full of hungry Hashers.

One of our group members wasn’t feeling well, so our host provided a van to transport us back to the hotel after our meal.

The rest of us enjoyed some liquid refreshments at our hotel.

My day started at 9 a.m., and I was not back in my room until a little after 10 p.m. That’s a long day and a late night for me. But, much better than my Friday night, most of which I don’t remember. Scott sent me this photo as a reminder:

And now that I’m home again, we’ll get back to my more sane routines. I wired some money for the Hideaway feeding, as I wasn’t feeling up for that. I’m going to take Swan to John’s place for her birria tacos, and we’ll see how it goes from there.

A Jollibee Sunday at Hideaway.

On to December 2015 in the LTG archives. In this post, I share the continuing adventure of my efforts to get back to Korea via American Airlines. I got to meet someone semi-famous, Brooke Mueller, and travel in business class seats for the first time.

For today’s YouTube video, let’s check in with the Filipina Pea, who shares her wisdom on the reasons so many folks moving here fail to enjoy the life they imagined. I guess I got lucky, although there were some speed bumps along the way.

Humor time:

I’d rather be commatose…
Hmm, I’m retired, but I still hear voices saying things like, “One more beer won’t hurt you.”
Hiking pays! Who knew?

That’s all for now—time to get back to living in the moment.

Bak 2 Skul

Alright, it is Saturday morning, and I’ve got a big Hash day ahead of me. Before I go, let me dash off a quick post about yesterday’s Hash event. The Haggis is a Scottish thing, and my ancestral roots are in Scotland. But I was drinking like an Irishman last night, and from what I’m told, it didn’t end well. Oh well, live and learn. Or not.

Where I be and how I got here.
A view from the road.
Over the river.
Our little room.
Looking down at the pool from our room.
Words of wisdom on the bathroom wall.
A 200 peso trike ride to the CIJ Farm, the venue for this weekend’s Haggis Hash.
And so it begins.
Our Haggis host and skul principal, Honeydew.
This year’s theme. Not to be an arse about it, but we don’t need no education.
No matter how you spell it, we McCrareys are rooted in Scotland.
Each participating Hash kennel was asked to designate a Queen. Subic’s choice was Bite My Titties.
The Queen on her throne.
And we are On-On!
The best part of Hashing out of town is that all the trails are new.
Swan is such a slowpoke sometimes.
Pozorrubio is mostly flat and I like that.
Through the fields we go. But I don’t think I was laughing all the way.
An unfamiliar Hash mark…I wonder what it means?
Clouds on the mountains.
Gathering for the Circle at the trail’s end down on the farm.
A short and sweet trail with TWO drink stops along the way.
An end-of-trail snack.
Snack innards.
After the circle, we returned to the farm headquarters for dinner and drinks. Lots of drinks.

And then we caught the van for transport back to our hotel. Except we had it drop us off at a local bar just down the road from our lodging.

More drinking ensued, and things were getting a little dark in my addled brain.
There was live music…
…and Swan joined the band.

I don’t remember anything after that. Swan told me this morning that I came back from the CR and my pants were wet with pee. We took a trike back to the hotel, and I fell down getting out. Two of the hotel staff had to help me up the stairs to the third floor. And then I woke up in bed this morning.

The early morning view from my hotel room.
That full moon must have followed me here.

And that’s where things stand at the moment. Today’s Hash events start at 10 a.m. with a hike, then continue into the night as we dine on haggis, sit around a bonfire, and, of course, imbibe beverages, including Scottish whiskey. I pride myself on maintaining control when I drink, and yesterday was a failure in that regard. It is rare that I get falling-down drunk, and it is an embarrassment when I do. Hopefully, I learned my lesson about over-indulgence yesterday. I’ll let you know tomorrow how that works out today.

A photo of my workstation where this post was created.