Went to Arizona yesterday. It was good to be back. Only stayed for dinner though.

I briefly considered ordering the Swedish meatballs but didn’t want to press my luck. Anyway, it was all quite good.

After dining, I walked up (or is it down?) the street to Cheap Charlies for some beers. Arrived in time to watch the sun go down.

Another thing I like about drinking there is they play a good mix of music. Oldies from the 50’s, some classic rock, even a little country. And they play the music videos on a large screen TV. My head often feels like it is on a swivel as I alternate between the street views and the videos. But last night I kept hearing a distracting buzzing sound. I was thinking that maybe they had blown out a speaker or something. And then I turned around and saw this:

Finished the night at Wet Spot and called one of the dancers down for drinks. Turns out she is a named Hasher (What’s Up Doc), although she hasn’t been to a Hash for many years. She happens to be off on Mondays so I invited her to join us this afternoon. We’ll see if she actually shows up.

Speaking of which, I came across a pretty interesting article called “The Unbearable Smugness of Walking”. The subheading provides the basic premise of the writer: “Glorified for its creative benefits, the pastime has become yet another goal-driven pursuit.”

Hmm. Well, apparently a lot of writers through the years have found walking to be a good way to get the creative juices flowing. But when walking becomes part of the work process does it lose its value as a respite from work? That’s like asking me if I’m ignorant or apathetic–I don’t know and I don’t care. *ahem*

For me, walking is as much a chore as anything else. I do it for a reason and for a purpose. Mainly to avoid becoming morbidly obese again. But yeah, it also clears my head and helps me maintain perspective in my sometimes troubled mind. I can also attest to the fact that I often think about what I’m going to write here at LTG whilst I’m hiking about. Which I guess undermines the premise that walking improves one’s writing. Or maybe I’m just the exception. That’s it–I’m exceptional!

It was a pretty productive morning on the internets today because I also came across this article: “Want to live longer? Drink alcohol, new study says”. Hell, I might just live forever! Oh wait. It says moderate drinking. Never mind.

And now it is time for me to bring it all together. Walking and drinking that is. Yes, I’m talking about the Hash my friends. The drinking club with a hiking problem!

I keep a close watch on this heart of mine
I keep my eyes wide open all the time
I keep the ends out for the tie that binds
Because you’re mine, I walk the line

I find it very, very easy to be true
I find myself alone when each day is through
Yes, I’ll admit that I’m a fool for you
Because you’re mine, I walk the line

As sure as night is dark and day is light
I keep you on my mind both day and night
And happiness I’ve known proves that it’s right
Because you’re mine, I walk the line

UPDATE: I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised that I’ve used the “I walk the line” title for a post twice previously.

In September 2017 I was comparing how I looked after two years of walking.

And in May 2013 I was extolling the health benefits of darts, pathetically trying to calculate the total distance walked between the throw line and the dart board during a tournament. I was such a rookie at walking back then!

It happened again this morning. I’m walking along the highway and a woman walking towards me smiles and says “hello, John.” And I didn’t have a clue as to who she was. She was older and kind of matronly so it wasn’t a random bargirl I may have met some drunken night. I just smiled back and nodded, then kept on walking.

Something similar happened the other night as I left Cheap Charlies. A woman was sitting with a young child on the front stoop of an abandoned building. I glanced her way and she too greeted me by name. Again, I had no clue who she might be. I guess I’m going to need to start stopping and asking “who the fuck are you and how in the hell do you know my name?” Eh, but more politely than that of course.

I guess it is one of the things that comes with small town living. A couple of trike drivers know me by name (by virtue of being involved with Buddy’s rescue last year) but several others will call out “Alta Vista?” (my subdivision) when I walk past. I only take a trike maybe once a week so it’s not like I’m a regular customer for any of them. I took one last night because it was raining and although I didn’t recognize the driver at all, he knew how to get to my house without me giving directions. That’s a little scary!

On balance though, I kinda like being recognized as I make my way about town or when I frequent my usual haunts and venues. Hell, even places I rarely visit seem to remember me by name. I suppose it sort of makes me feel like I’m a part of the community or something like that. And maybe a little less lonely.

Making your way in the world today
Takes everything you got
Taking a break from all your worries
It sure would help a lot
Wouldn’t you like to get away?

Sometimes you want to go
Where everybody knows your name
And they’re always glad you came
You want to be where you can see
The troubles are all the same

You want to be where everybody knows your name
You want to go where people know
The people are all the same
You want to go where everybody knows your name

Not that there is anything wrong with that.

So, although I lean right politically, on social issues, including homosexuality, I’ve always been more of a libertarian. I don’t care about anyone’s sexual orientation. Not my business or concern and it certainly should not be of any interest to the government. Be loud, be proud, fly your flag, be who you are or who you want to be. Just leave me the hell alone while I do my thing.

In all seriousness though, I do not condone discrimination or other forms of harassment of the gay community. I’m not sure how big a problem that truly is in the USA, my sense is that the media tends to hype issues to keep Americans divided, including gays versus straights. I’m proud of my gay daughter who, while outspoken, never plays the “victim” card.

Anyway, I no longer live in the states so maybe I’m out of touch with the realities there. I can speak to what I’ve observed here in the Philippines and quite frankly it is shocking. This is a majority Catholic country and in many ways very conservative. Abortion is illegal. Birth control is available but not widely used. There is no legal divorce, only a lengthy and expensive annulment process. So it may come as a surprise (it was to me) that when it comes to matters of homosexuality no one cares! At least there are no outward signs of stigma or discrimination. Well, actually I just discovered that gay marriage is not permitted here yet.

But I’m not talking about the government so much as I am the citizens. I can’t keep up with all the letters in the rainbow universe, so I’ll confine myself to the “traditional” LGBT community. Except here in the PI it is not so much a separate community at all. People are what they are and are accepted as they are by everyone else. It is just not a big deal and people don’t seem to notice or differentiate between a gay couple or a straight couple. Why should they, right? Well, I guess that’s what I’m kinda doing right now, but only to make the point that it’s really cool that no one else cares.

In my small circle of friends here I know two gay couples. They are both part of the Alley Cats/dart scene and great fun to be around.

Funny story in a way about Billy. I’ve always addressed her in the feminine manner but I’m pretty sure she identifies as male. This was brought home to me when I noticed the women calling her (see, there I go again!) “Kuya Billy” just like they call me Kuya John. Kuya is akin to older brother. Oh well, you can’t teach an old dog like me new tricks (especially when I’m drunk) but Billy never complains and jokes back with me, so it’s all good. And I guess that’s kind of my point, no one wastes time being offended when no offense is intended. That’s a great lesson for us all!

I can’t say that I know any gay males, but then I don’t know many Filipino men at all. I know there is a club called the Hunk Zone, but I’ve never been in there. And there is another bar in town called Count Nicolas that is a hangout for transgenders, or as they are known here bakla. I don’t frequent that bar either but I actually see quite a few baklas on the street as well. Again, no one pays them any attention and the locals seem to accept them as the gender to which they identify.

I emphasized locals above because some of the expats and a lot of the sex tourists do seem to have issues with baklas. One girly bar had the audacity to actually hire a bakla as a waitress and the mongers went nuts on the internet forums. Seems they were worried they might get drunk and not notice the difference before it was too late or some such crap. Well, honestly speaking, I’ve never been that drunk where I couldn’t tell, but whatever. It’s like the old joke–“I know my girl is a real girl. I can feel it inside of me”. *ahem*

My favorite non-dart bar, Cheap Charlies, flew a rainbow flag during pride month and some foreigners complained about that too. Bigotry like that seems to me to be perhaps more about projection. What is it about a gay that they really fear?

Ah well, there I go rambling again. The point being that people of all kinds and persuasions are accepted by the Filipino community. Their kind and loving nature are among the things I truly admire about them.

And now I feel empowered to admit that I’m a lesbian. Trapped in a man’s body. I love women. There. I came out.

I met her in a club down in old Soho
Where you drink champagne and it tastes just like Coca-Cola
C O L A cola
She walked up to me and she asked me to dance
I asked her her name and in a dark brown voice she said Lola
L O L A Lola la-la-la-la Lola

Well I’m not the world’s most physical guy
But when she squeezed me tight she nearly broke my spine
Oh my Lola la-la-la-la Lola
Well I’m not dumb but I can’t understand
Why she walked like a woman and talked like a man
Oh my Lola la-la-la-la Lola la-la-la-la Lola

Well we drank champagne and danced all night
Under electric candlelight
She picked me up and sat me on her knee
And said little boy won’t you come home with me
Well I’m not the world’s most passionate guy
But when I looked in her eyes well I almost fell for my Lola
La-la-la-la Lola la-la-la-la Lola
Lola la-la-la-la Lola la-la-la-la Lola
I pushed her away
I walked to the door
I fell to the floor
I got down on my knees
Then I looked at her and she at me

Well that’s the way that I want it to stay
And I always want it to be that way for my Lola
La-la-la-la Lola
Girls will be boys and boys will be girls
It’s a mixed up muddled up shook up world except for Lola
La-la-la-la Lola

Well I left home just a week before
And I’d never ever kissed a woman before
But Lola smiled and took me by the hand
And said dear boy I’m gonna make you a man

Well I’m not the world’s most masculine man
But I know what I am and I’m glad I’m a man
And so is Lola
La-la-la-la Lola la-la-la-la Lola
Lola la-la-la-la Lola la-la-la-la Lola

I was out of town most of the day yesterday. Nothing real exciting, just taking care of some business in San Fernando, Pampanga. Anyway, I didn’t get the chance to post some photos from the Hash on Monday, but I’ll rectify that now.

And so ended another Hash.

Otherwise, life goes on in the usual ways.

And I may have gotten a little drunk last night.

And did I mention I might have been a little drunk last night?

I’m going to do the hike with the Wednesday Walkers. Although it is starting to look like rain. We shall see!

That’s certainly a worthwhile goal. At least to the extent we have any say in the matter.

The other day I noticed that the subdivision security guys are now sporting firearms, what appear to be short barreled shotguns. This is a new feature as in the past they only carried pistols. In fact, on many occasions I’ve noticed the holsters they wear were empty. So, I asked one of the guards what was up with the new firepower. He simply responded “to protect lives and property, sir”.

Hmm. He didn’t elaborate, but I got to thinking maybe it has something to do with the recent arrest of an Al Qaeda affiliated terrorist here in Zambales province. Now, he was captured at a hotel in Iba more than an hour away from Olongapo/Barretto. But Iba has no real foreigner presence, so assuming he was plotting to kill us Western types, a trip down the National Highway may have been in his plans. Or maybe the arming of the guards was just a coincidence. Who knows?

Staying alive these days seems to be more and more a matter of chance. I mean, you can do the prudent things to alleviate risk factors, but short of living like a hermit (which to my thinking isn’t living at all) you can not control the timing or actions that may ultimately lead to your demise. Probably the most dangerous thing I do is walking alongside or crossing the National Highway. People drive like idiotic maniacs and it seems pedestrians are just expected to get the fuck out of the way. Even in the bars safety seems to be an afterthought. Cheap Charlies is my favorite hangout these days. It’s on the third floor with one access/egress point and one set of stairs. I guess in the event of a fire (or terrorist attack) you’d just have to dive out the window and onto the highway below. Oops. Choose the method of your doom!

Anyway, I also visited the doctor recently to go over the results from my blood and urine tests. As I had discerned from my own reading, I was in the normal range in all tested categories with one exception–my uric acid level is too high. My doc says this can be caused by eating certain types of foods in excess. Or drinking too much beer. Hmm. I guess I better watch what I eat! Anyway, he gave me some meds to help reduce those nasty acids and seemed satisfied that my health was otherwise pretty good for an “elderly” man. Bastard.

Speaking of risk factors, it’s time to get ready for the Hash. Wish me luck!

Yep, one of those. Did my my morning and afternoon walks. Boring highway hikes. Sunny and hot as well. Took a nap. Hung out on the internet. And that’s about it.

Well, I did find this mildly interesting article “10 facts about the Philippines that will blow your mind”. That’s a bit of an overstatement, but judge for yourself if you are so inclined. A commenter did add these which I found funny in a sad way:

12, The most beggars per square meter than any other place in the world.

13. The most missing limbs, per capita, from dynamite fishing.

14. Largest importer of other nation’s trash and surprisingly, the least capable of properly disposing their own trash.

15. Has the most over amplified karaoke machines in the world. 

Especially those last two.

Anyway, that’s all I got. Time for my beer ingestion.

UPDATE: And here’s #11:

Who me? Um, no. Not yet anyway. How do you define cavorting?

Last night was my first weekend out as a newly free man. As usual, I started out in Cheap Charlies. Got there in time to enjoy the sunset.

One of my favorites in this bar is Maya, so I had her join me while I imbibed my beers. Well, she joined me for the lady drink commission, but still. She’s a nice enough gal, pleasant personality, and gives a pretty good back rub. Interestingly, she’s a Muslim. Don’t see many of the pedophile Muhammad’s disciples working in a bar. Although Maya’s drinks are in fact non-alcoholic. She’s sexy enough though and I probably wouldn’t mind “doing her”, but alas, Cheap Charlies is not a prostitution bar. Of course, the gals are free to do as they please before/after work. I kinda got mixed signals on whether Maya would seriously consider a date or if she was just playing me for more drinks. If I had to place a bet I guess my money would be on the latter. Just as well I suppose.

I decided to change things up and visit the recently opened Thumbstar bar. This is your standard go-go bar with scantily clad dancers. And yes, the girls are available for takeout. I was a little surprised to discover that at a little after 8:00 on a Friday night, I was the only customer. I sat down and ordered up a beer. There were maybe five or six dancers on the stage and one of them caught my eye. A tiny little thing, but cute as a bug. She was making eye contact and smiling at me so I knew she was obviously thirsty. Like any gentleman would, I called her down to join me. Oh my. Her name is Rose. At 32 she’s a bit long in the tooth for a dancer, but I prefer the gals to be approximately half my age, so no problem. And damn, she just snuggled right up to me and it felt so sweet and right. I was surprised how much I was enjoying her physical presence. We both had two drinks and then I knew it was best for me to move on. She made me promise to come back and see her again and so I reckon I will.

I then successfully crossed the National Highway without getting squashed and popped into the Alaska Club. Once again, I was the only customer. Well, it is rainy season which keeps the tourist numbers down I suppose. As is my custom, I called my usual dancer down to join me for drinks. Kim always insists I’m her favorite customer (I’m sure I was at the moment anyway). And since I didn’t have my ex with me as I had in the past, Kim was especially, um, friendly. Very touchy feely if you get my meaning. Now, nothing lewd or illegal, that’s not allowed in the bar of course. You have to pay to take the girl out for that kind of thing. And I think if I ever decide to barfine a prostitute, Kim might just be the one. But last night wasn’t the night for that. I’m still not ready to go “there”.

But. It did get me thinking. It might be fun to spend some intimate moments with Kim, or Rose, or maybe even Maya. Or hell, all three (but not at the same time! I’m in my 60’s for crissakes!). Now, don’t be concerned dear readers, I have no intention of making a prostitute my future ex-girlfriend. In fact, I’m trying to get my mind around the idea of living my life without a girlfriend at all. But that shouldn’t mean living without some female companionship now and then, right? These girls might be fun to hang out with for awhile, and then send them on their way. After paying them of course. So we shall see what the future holds in that regard.

This morning I went out and walked the trail I tried to do yesterday in reverse. I had somewhat better success I guess.

Progress is being made I guess, on both the emotional and Hash Hare fronts. Let’s see if I can stay strong and get things right this time.

I can’t light no more of your darkness
All my pictures seem to fade to black and white
I’m growing tired and time stands still before me
Frozen here on the ladder of my life

Too late to save myself from falling
I took a chance and changed your way of life
But you misread my meaning when I met you
Closed the door and left me blinded by the light

Don’t let the sun go down on me
Although I search myself, it’s always someone else I see
I’d just allow a fragment of your life to wander free
But losing everything is like the sun going down on me

Out into the heat and humidity on a quest to find a suitable wet weather trail for my upcoming stint as Hare. I figured a portion of My Bitch could work. No real steep hills so should be manageable. A small creek had some running water, but it was easy to hop across. There was some storm damage creating obstacles though:

The problem came a bit later when I began my descent. The path I planned on taking is apparently seldom used. After the rains it was overgrown in that tall ass grass. And I lost the trail. Tried to blaze my own way down but kept getting stymied by impassible obstacles. Finally, I gave up and tried heading back to the top and got turned around somehow and a little bit lost. I eventually got back to the junction and then once again tried to find the trail down. But it was so overgrown as to be invisible. I gave up and did the long walk down Rizal Extension and eventually back home.

I still got three weeks to figure something out.

In other news, today is the anniversary of Buddy’s rescue.

He has his “accidents” now and then (like this morning), but he’s a good boy and loves to give me hugs when I come home. Hard to not love him back.

And then there was my drunken snack when I finished my bar crawl last night.

And I had it a la mode. That’s French, right?

Time for the afternoon walk now. Stay tuned!

Welp, the valley trail I was thinking about for July 22 ain’t gonna work after all. Went out this afternoon for a scouting expedition and it turned out looking like this:

Anyway, I’ve got a couple of more weeks to explore some alternatives.

Meanwhile, the dinner I prepared tonight was well worth the time and effort. If I do say so myself.

And life goes on.

Well baby, there you stand
With your little head, down in your hand
Oh, my God, you can’t believe it’s happening again
Your baby’s gone, and you’re all alone
And it looks like the end.

And you’re back out on the street.
And you’re tryin’ to remember.
How do you start it over?
You don’t know if you can.
You don’t care much for a stranger’s touch,
But you can’t hold your man.

You never thought you’d be alone this far down the line
And I know what’s been on your mind
You’re afraid it’s all been wasted time

The autumn leaves have got you thinking about the first time that you fell
You didn’t love the boy too much, no, no, you just loved the boy too well,
Farewell
So you live from day to day, and you dream about tomorrow, oh.
And the hours go by like minutes and the shadows come to stay
So you take a little something to make them go away
And I could have done so many things, baby
If I could only stop my mind from wonderin’ what
I left behind and from worrying ’bout this wasted time

Oh, another love has come and gone
Oh, and the years keep rushing on
I remember what you told me before you went out on your own:
“Sometimes to keep it together, we got to leave it alone.”
So you can get on with your search, baby, and I can get on with mine
And maybe someday we will find , that it wasn’t really wasted time

Or maybe next door.

I have this friend I’ve known for around three years now. Yes, she works in a bar. She’s in her mid-30’s and has FIVE kids, ranging in age from 17 to 9. All by the same Filipino partner, or so she tells me. He’s out of the picture now, and as you might imagine, she struggles to make ends meet on a bargirls salary. She had a Swiss boyfriend who was sending her some monthly support (around $100.) but apparently he decided to end that arrangement/relationship. Hence her financial woes were exacerbated and she was in near panic mode about paying rent, buying food, and keeping her kids in school.

As fate would have it, she’s living in one of the shanty villages right outside my subdivision. I can practically see her “house” from mine. I occasionally walk through that area and will sometimes hand out candy to the kids. It’s a sad situation but I do admire her strong sense of duty as a mother.

I may have mentioned previously that I’ve not been entirely comfortable with the arrangement I made with a small orphanage in Olongapo. My domestic helper thinks I’m being scammed and that the support I provide is not going to help the children. I’m not sure if I agree with that, but I’ve seen kids out on my hikes who appear to be in far greater need than the ones in the orphanage. It’s been in my mind to find an opportunity to provide some direct help to those who need it most.

So it occurred to me that my neighbor’s situation may indeed be that opportunity. I know her well enough to know that my support will not be wasted on selfish needs, drugs or alcohol. There were only eight or nine kids at the orphanage, so providing for her five does not really diminish the overall impact of my contribution. My goal in giving has always been to “make a difference” and I think making my neighbor’s family my primary charity accomplishes that.

We’ll see how this works out. It was gratifying to see the look of relief on her face when I told her of my plan and provided my first installment of cash. One of my long range goals is to help a worthy individual attend college or vocational school. That’s how you can change a life and break the cycle of poverty. We’ll see if her eldest (a junior in high school) studies hard and warrants that opportunity.

It’s probably gauche to write about this on the blog. I’m not trying to brag and act like I’m some kind of saint or something. In fact, my motivations are pretty much in keeping with my selfish nature. By helping a few I am alleviating some of the guilt that comes with living a “rich” life whilst surrounded by poverty.

That’s my plan at least.

I promise I am not going to turn LTG into the weather channel, but damn. Every time I think it can’t get worse, Mother Nature is like “hold me beer and watch this!”

I headed out for my afternoon hike right after I posted yesterday. I was looking for a new back way out of the neighborhood but kept hitting a dead end. Finally I retreated back to the asphalt and then the skies opened up again. I went ahead and walked the subdivision to get my steps in but it was pretty unsatisfying.

Later on, after an indoor shower, there was another break in the action so I made my way down to Cheap Charlies for some brews.

Before long it was raining harder than ever. I sat there astounded as within a hour the freakin’ National Highway through town was under water. Shocking really.

I didn’t have much choice but to remain there drinking beer until the rain finally let up and the flood waters receded. After a couple of hours I managed to make my way home safely. And then it proceeded to rain all night long and into this morning.

I did sneak out for a bit today but only got as far as Rizal street.

Anyway, I’ll be back with something more substantive later. Yeah, I know. Promises, promises.

If the rain comes they run and hide their heads
They might as well be dead
If the rain comes, if the rain comes

Can you hear me, that when it rains and shines
(when it rains and shines)
It’s just a state of mind?
(when it rains and shines)
Can you hear me, can you hear me?

UPDATE: Well geez, I see I’ve used the “Stymied” title twice before. Back in January when I was trying to find the trail that has now become “My Bitch”. I also used it in July 2016 when I wrote about a sty on my eye. Clever, huh?

Apparently. I tend to avoid trite phrases like a plague, but damn, when it rains it pours! Pretty much non-stop for two days running now.

And of course, it’s been raining ever since so things are much worse on the streets now. This is when the shitty infrastructure really comes into play. The streets aren’t designed in such a way as that water rolls to the curb. Not that it would matter since the drainage systems are pretty much non-functional anyway. I’m not one to complain (much), but you’d think in a country where it rains hard four months a year they’d have figured out a better way. HaHa! I forgot. I’m in the Philippines. Take a deep breath. Relax. Accept the Filipino way. Ah, that’s better!

Yesterday in the late afternoon there was a brief pause in the storm so I figured I’d hustle on out to Alaska Club and watch the weekly Sons of Baccus (SOB) dance contest. I got about a hundred yards down the street and a light rain began to fall, so I opened up my umbrella. About this time one of the security guards pulls up in his trike and offers me a ride. I’m like, no thanks, I’ll walk. He gave me an incredulous look, and again patted the seat with a “get in” nod. I said, no really I need the exercise. He shrugged and rode off.

And then the skies opened up and water poured down in torrents. Actually, with the wind kicking in it poured down and sideways. My umbrella was no match for this onslaught and soon enough I was soaked to the skin and wading ankle deep through the river that a few minutes before had been a street. As I plodded along I could only mutter repeatedly “should have taken the trike. should have taken the trike…”

Made it to Alaska (about a ten minute walk) a few minutes before opening time. Jerry, the owner, let me in early, probably feeling sorry for me looking like a drowned puppy and all. I hadn’t been to Alaska for a couple of months and one of the dancers and a waitress both seemed gleeful to see my wallet me. I kid, but they were very sweet. It seems to be a thing here that the natives consider having a wet back will make you sick somehow. Sorta like the fan death thing in Korea. I assured them I’d be okay, but they insisted on drying me off as best as they were able. It did feel nice to have all that female touching going on, so who am I to complain? [I just went back and added commas to the second sentence in this paragraph. How did I do, Kevin?]

Anyway, the beer started flowing and soon enough I forgot about my wetness. I was asked to be a judge and accepted. I didn’t get photos of all the participating bars, but here are a couple:

In the end, I gave my first place vote to Alaska with Wet Spot a close second. Rum Jungle took third on my ticket. The other judges must have agreed because that was how the final result came down as well.

And so ended another night in paradise.

Bad dreamer, what’s your name
Looks like we’re ridin’ on the same train
Looks as though there’ll be more pain
There’s gonna be a Showdown

And it’s rainin’ all over the world
It’s raining all over the world
Tonight, the longest night

She came to me like a friend
She blew in on a southern wind
Now my heart is turned to stone again
There’s gonna be a Showdown

And it’s rainin’ all over the world
It’s raining all over the world
Tonight, the longest night

I guess yesterday’s post about my American lifestyle must have shamed inspired me enough to get more adventurous. If you can call breakfast an adventure that is.

Still, all in all not a bad dining experience.

Yesterday afternoon we got a brief but heavy rainstorm. When it seemed to be over I headed out for my hike. I wanted to see how the flat pathways in the valley fared as I intend to incorporate them into my July 22 trail as Hare.

Turns out there were quite a few puddles that had to be maneuvered around. And that was after only a relatively brief rainstorm. A sustained rain is going to make it impossible to hike without a fair amount of wading. I’m not sure there is really any workaround for that. A trail in the hills when it is wet also has issues like mud and treacherous footing. We’ll see.

With about two kilometers to go before reaching the shelter of my house the skies opened up again and I got drenched. It was actually kind of refreshing though. Wet with sweat or wet with rain, what difference does it make in the end?

And finally (everyone’s favorite words when it comes to posts here at LTG), I played darts last night at Alley Cats. Despite my lack of practice I threw pretty well and managed a third place finish. More importantly, I actually enjoyed myself. I’ve dropped out of the dart league this season but I do intend to go out and throw in the tourneys a couple times a week anyway. After all, man does not live by beer alone. And beer and darts go together nicely!

Rainy day people always seem to know
When you’re feelin’ blue
High stepping strutters who land in the gutters
Sometimes need one, too
Take it or leave it or try to believe it,
If you’ve been down too long,
Rainy day lovers don’t hide love inside, they just pass it on.

I may live in the Philippines geographically, but my lifestyle is decidedly not Filipino. I’m not bragging or complaining, it is what it is, and this result was obviously my choice. I wanted to spend my retirement years as easily and as comfortably as possible. And given that I chose to live in a third world country that meant staying separate and apart from most of the locals.

Of course, having money makes a difference and I’m comparatively rich compared to most of the locals. Which is not to say that all Filipinos in the area are living in abject poverty, far from it. There are many clean and modern looking apartments in town, that while spartan, do provide comfortable shelter. In fact, many of my fellow expats live amongst the Filipinos in these neighborhoods and gain the full flavor of life in the Philippines. Now some of that flavor is constantly crowing roosters and LOUD videoke late into the night, which is another reason why I’ve chosen to live separate and apart. I don’t think I’m better or anything like that, I just want to live a life that is as familiar and comfortable as possible. And yes, I know that means I miss out on some the unique aspects of Filipino culture.

I’m not even adventurous when it comes to local food delicacies. I can name four or five dishes that I’ve at least tried, but none of them stand out as something I crave or desire on a regular basis.

Honestly, I don’t even spend a lot of time with Filipino members of the community. My hangouts are all Western oriented with almost no Filipino males around. I interact some with my driver, although his English is very poor. And of course, I enjoy spending time with the friendly Filipina bargirls I encounter.

Anyway, those were just some reflections that occurred to me while walking. Living here and being part of the life here are two entirely different things. At this point I have no regrets about my choices and perhaps in time I’ll open myself up more to increased integration within the Filipino community.

So, that’s where things stand. I suppose reading between the lines you might discern that I’m not entirely satisfied with my choices, but I’m taking life here one day at a time and keeping an open mind for the next big thing that might come along. Stay tuned!

Life continues apace. I had a good week of walking, averaging over 23,000 steps per day. Given the heat and/or rain that’s not bad.

And of course, yesterday was Hash day. A pretty nice trail from Pubic Head, only one big hill and around 6.5 KMs.

Pubic Head usually takes lots of Hash photos, but he wasn’t out there with us yesterday, having laid the trail that morning. Here’s the only I took during the trek.

Hot Zone is the Grand Master’s bar and probably my least favorite venue for the Hash circle. In fact, we don’t really circle up as there is not enough room to do so. Still, we carry on with the traditional rituals.

As usual, I consumed my fair share of beer and then walked home in a driving rain storm.

And that’s the life I’m living here in a nutshell.

UPDATE: Adding a photo of Tom Stone, recently deceased. RIP.

Apparently.

Two more expat deaths this week, although I was not personally acquainted with either. I guess it is not to be unexpected when you are living in what is tantamount to a retirement community.

Here in the land of the living, I’ve been drafted to serve as the Hare for the July 22 run. I did some preliminary trail scouting today for that event.

Anyway, I’ve got a month to figure it all out. And now it is almost beer o’clock. Let me leave you with this golden oldie:

An office manager had money problems and had to fire an employee, either Jack or Jill. He thought he’d fire the employee who came to work late.

The next morning, both employees came to work very early. So the manager thought he would fire the first one who took a coffee break. Unfortunately, neither employee took a coffee break.

Then the manager decided to see who took the longest lunch break. Strangely, neither Jack nor Jill took a lunch break that day. They both ate at their desk.

Then the manager thought he’d wait to see who would leave work earliest, but both employees stayed after closing.

Jill finally went to the coat rack and the manager went up to her and said, “Jill, I have a terrible problem. I don’t know whether to lay you or Jack off.”

Jill said, “Well, you’d better jack off, because I’m late for my bus.”

Pretty much an ordinary day in the life here yesterday. Morning walk, nap, grocery shopping on the old Navy base. Then I had my driver drop me off at the mall in Olongapo City. Wanted to get my eyes examined. It’s been over two years since I got this prescription and sometimes I get eye fatigue when I’m reading on the computer.

I was somewhat taken aback when the salesclerk remembered me from that one time long ago visit. Kinda nice, but a little creepy too. Anyway, after waiting a few minutes I went in to see the optometrist. She spent a good 15 minutes with me and in the end said my corrected vision hadn’t changed since my last exam. That’s cool! Was very surprised when I was told there was no charge. They even repaired the nose pad on my old glasses.

As I exited the mall for the 15 minute walk to catch a Jeepney to Barretto I ran into a woman who looked vaguely familiar…

Back in Barretto I decided to quench my thirst at Cheap Charlies. And I couldn’t help but noticing this guy sitting at the bar.

Do you see what I saw? It’s a crappy photo but I was trying to be discreet. Eh, fuck it. Let’s try again:

Later I got up to take a piss, looked out the CR (comfort room/restroom) window and saw this:

Safely back to my cold beer and window seat. Look down to the street below and see this guy passing by:

Anyway, I’m glad to be me. Speaking of which, my blood/urine test results are back. I need to see a doctor for his/her interpretation, but my reading is that all my indicators fall within the normal range. Maybe I’ll live long enough so some fucker can mock my appearance on his blog…

Up early this morning as usual and when I looked out the window I saw a solitary cloud in the sky.

Rows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I’ve looked at clouds that way
But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It’s cloud’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As every fairy tale comes real
I’ve looked at love that way
But now it’s just another show
You leave ’em laughing when you go
And if you care, don’t let them know
Don’t give yourself away

I’ve looked at love from both sides now
From give and take and still somehow
It’s love’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud,
To say “I love you” right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I’ve looked at life that way
But now old friends they’re acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I’ve changed
Well something’s lost, but something’s gained
In living every day.

I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It’s life’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know life at all