Well, that’s not really fair. Fact is we weren’t on a trail.
One of the characteristics of the Wednesday Walkers that differs from Hashing is that there is no prearranged trail. Usually someone takes the lead and we just see where the path takes us. Except when we lose the path.
This image shows where we went wrong (in red)
And by wrong I mean coming down a steep hillside with no trail whatsoever…we were blazing a new path! And what a path it was. Vines and roots grabbing at the ankles. Vines wrapping around your waist. Ducking under branches only to have vines tangled around your neck. Sometimes all at once. It was a freakin’ nightmare. We all survived without injury although a couple of us were on our ass almost as much as on our feet. But once we had started down no one was willing to try and climb back up. That’s how it goes sometimes I suppose.
It all started out innocently enough.Famous last words “Okay, from the top here it is an easy path down into Marian Hills…”Having survived our ordeal and safely ensconced in the Marian Hills neighborhood, we took a break for lunch…And then continued on our way through the Alta Vista subdivision…Before completing our trek in the traditional way with cold beers at Cheap Charlies…
It was a mostly good day.
And last night I played darts at Alley Cats. I always have low expectations given my penchant for not giving a damn practicing. Surprised myself by taking first place with my partner Gerlie. Undefeated through the winners bracket and took out rivals Steve (who beat me in the MVP) and Alan (who I always enjoy beating). It’s doubles though so I can’t take all the credit. I threw much better than normal as did my partner.
We Hash rain or shine. Yesterday there was a downpour about an hour before the Hash’s scheduled start. But by the time we loaded up in the Hashmobile the rain had stopped. The problem was that the heavy rain obliterated the trail–none of the marks the Hare had worked so hard to place so we could find our way remained after the deluge. Just one of the joys of Hashing in rainy season I suppose.
To his credit, the Hare (Bush Diver) did come out on trail with us so he was able to point out where the intended starting point was. He’s older than me and only a little bit faster so it wasn’t long until we were bringing up the rear. Everyone else just went on ahead and found their own trails.
We started with a 30 minute steep and muddy climb to the top of the mountain. Then we walked the muddy ridge line path before making our way back down. The mud was thick and sticky, it felt like I had an inch worth on the bottom of both shoes. The only way to remove it was to scrape it off. A real pain in the ass. It was steep and slick coming down as well and it resulted in a Hash crash for yours truly. My feet both suddenly slipped out from under me leaving me laying on my back in the mud. Luckily only my pride was hurt.
Once we finally made it down off the mountain I did something for the first time in my Hash career–I hailed a trike to carry me to our on-home at Da’Kudos on Baloy beach. I’d been on trail for an hour and half and I just wasn’t wanting to walk the streets for another 45 minutes caked in mud.
Waiting to get started. That’s Bush Diver under the umbrella.Only ten of us braved the elements and attempted the trail. That’s the fewest I’ve ever seen in in Subic. We had 30 at the circle afterwards, so I guess you could say people voted with their feet. By not using them.Making our way on the muddy road at the top of the mountain.Bush Diver showing us the way down.My dirty shoes…My dirty ass.On-home on the beach at Da’Kudo’s.And when the sun went down the moon came out in all her fullness and glory…
In other news, I was at Lourdes hospital this morning. Weird being there again precisely one week after Greg’s passing. I gave them a blood and urine sample so they can confirm that I’m as good on the inside as I am on the outside. Hopefully.
A bit of a pain in the ass in true Filipino fashion. I went up to the cashier to pay the associated fees of P11,970 ($220) and their credit card machine was unable to make a connection. This required me to take a trike back into town, withdraw funds from an ATM, and trike back to the hospital. Anyway, I took a deep breath, relaxed, and accepted things as they are here.
The sun is shining today so I guess I have no excuse to avoid my afternoon walk. Well, it is hot as hell…
Hold on, I guess that what’s called a strategic comma placement.
Anyway, I was surprised to get a message from my dart league captain advising that I’d be representing the Lagoon team in the MVP end of season singles tournament yesterday. I’ve honestly felt like a part time member of the team given my propensity to miss matches due to travel, including the final two weeks of the regular season. Seeing as how I’ve not been practicing (I did play once in Korea) and the MVP features the best player from each league team, I fully expected it would be two and done for me (it’s a double elimination format).
Well, I won by forfeit in the first round because my opponent didn’t show. In the second round I faced Alan who plays out of Alley Cats and is someone I’ve had some non-dart related issues with in the past. He’s a good darter though and given my lack of practice I didn’t expect to beat him. I got lucky in the first leg of 501 as Alan struggled long enough with the double out to allow me to catch up and eventually win the game. The second leg was Cricket, which I consider my better game. I don’t throw any better in a Cricket game but I understand the nuances of strategy and sometimes beat superior players because of that. Well, despite taking an early lead I wound up losing the leg. Alan won the coin flip and chose Cricket again which pleased me just fine. This time I stayed on my game and won the leg and the match handily.
So I advanced to the finals of the winner’s bracket and had to face Steve, an Englishman who is relatively new in town. Of course the English have a dart playing gene and Steve is an excellent player. And he does not drink alcoholic beverages, which is almost heresy in a bar league. I’d equate it to those biological males who identify as female and compete in women’s competitions. So yeah, that’s my excuse for getting my ass kicked in two legs.
Back to the loser’s bracket where I eventually faced off against Alan again. Almost identical results, me winning the third cricket leg to take the match. Which put me in the finals against Steve. And he once again completely dominated me. Ah well, a second place finish was much more than I expected. Will I be motivated to get off my lazy ass and practice so that perhaps one day I might actually beat Steve? Stay tuned!
The MVP singles lineup. I do stand out in a crowd, don’t I? Oh, the tournament was played at the local VFW, hence the American flag…
In other news it appears that rainy season is upon us. We’ve had rain for the past couple of days and nights, including a downpour just before I was to head out for the dart tourney. I almost said “fuck it” and stayed home but decided since I’d been asked to represent the team I should follow through.
I’m still shocked that in a country where it rains a lot there is such poor drainage. The streets were like rivers last night which is a real pain in the ass. And while it didn’t rain this morning during my walk, many of the streets were covered in mud from last night’s flooding. Oh well, that’s life in the Philippines. It’s still hot too, but at least with some cloud cover you can avoid the direct sunlight. And as I type these words the thunder is rolling once again. My afternoon hike may be in peril.
Continuing on with the theme of yesterday’s post, I remembered a song while I was responding to comments: “Is that all there is?”. It’s funny in a way because it was a big hit for Peggy Lee in 1969, but I don’t recall ever having heard it until I watched some obscure movie from 2007 called The Nines. Anyway, I think the song pretty accurately captures the way I feel at times. Hell, maybe we all do. But if one is striving to live in the moment it seems unreasonable to expect every moment to be full of wonder and excitement.
And whether my beer is half-full or half-empty I’m fully prepared to say “one more please!”.
I remember when I was a very little girl, our house caught on fire I’ll never forget the look on my father’s face as he gathered me up in his arms and raced through the burning building out to the pavement I stood there shivering in my pajamas and watched the whole world go up in flames And when it was all over I said to myself, is that all there is to a fire
Is that all there is, is that all there is If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing Let’s break out the booze and have a ball If that’s all there is
And when I was twelve years old, my father took me to a circus, the greatest show on earth There were clowns and elephants and dancing bears And a beautiful lady in pink tights flew high above our heads And so I sat there watching the marvelous spectacle I had the feeling that something was missing I don’t know what, but when it was over I said to myself, “is that all there is to a circus?
Is that all there is, is that all there is If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing Let’s break out the booze and have a ball If that’s all there is
Then I fell in love, head over heels in love, with the most wonderful boy in the world We would take long walks by the river or just sit for hours gazing into each other’s eyes We were so very much in love Then one day he went away and I thought I’d die, but I didn’t and when I didn’t I said to myself, is that all there is to love?
Is that all there is, is that all there is If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing
I know what you must be saying to yourselves If that’s the way she feels about it why doesn’t she just end it all? Oh, no, not me I’m in no hurry for that final disappointment for I know just as well as I’m standing here talking to you when that final moment comes and I’m breathing my first breath, I’ll be saying to myself
Is that all there is, is that all there is If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep dancing Let’s break out the booze and have a ball If that’s all there is
Most men and women lead lives at the worst so painful, at the best so monotonous, poor and limited that the urge to escape, the longing to transcend themselves if only for a few moments, is and has always been one of the principal appetites of the soul.” –Aldous Huxley
Interestingly (to me), I first posted the above quote on this date four years ago. And it still resonates. I’m not sure if that is an indication that I’m stuck in a rut or that Mr. Huxley’s thought is a universal truth on the meaning (meaninglessness?) of life. Anyway, I like it.
The quote was good fodder for thought as I did my morning walk. My life here is better than the life I left behind, no question about that. But there is no denying the repetitiveness of my daily routines is indeed monotonous and leaves my soul hungry for meaningfulness. Now, I don’t mean to say I’m in despair or that I’m living a life of quiet desperation. Far from it. But the recent death within my small circle here is a stark reminder that I need to get off my ass and make the best of whatever time remains for me in this life.
The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats. A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.
Henry David Thoreau
For some reason I got to thinking about some of the training sessions the government wasted money on saw fit to send me to during the course of my 35 year career in Uncle Sam’s service. Many of these would include some type of “inspirational” segment where an overpaid speaker would presumably motivate us to greatness through the power of their words.
One that I recall involved a theme of “don’t sweat the small stuff”. The speaker drew a time line on his whiteboard with annotations for birth at one end and death at the other. He said being born and dying are big things. And everything in between is the small stuff. Well, I’m not sure how valuable that insight was but I do remember it all these years later. And yeah, I do try and remind myself that in the grand scheme of things my “problems” don’t amount to much of anything. As one Filipina friend told me “I worry everyday about how I’m going to feed my kids. And you complain because some woman hurt your feelings? You are blessed.”
Another training I recall had a more practical work application. It talked about manager’s getting bogged down by striving for perfection in their own work or in that of their subordinates. You can spend hours re-working a memo written for your signature or you can accept that the memo as written serves its intended purpose. The word the instructor used for this concept was “satisfices”. At least as a government manager, I found that satisfices was nearly always good enough. These days when I consider my life I can acknowledge it is perhaps not all it could be but I can also accept that it satisfices. It could certainly be much, much worse, that’s for sure.
And then I remembered a short story by Ernest Hemingway I read way back when in a literature class in college. It was called “A Clean Well-Lighted Place” and it was a story about nothing and the nothingness of life. I just did a search and saw that back in December 2006 I was also channeling this story. Funny how that works. And damn, in October 2014 the story was speaking to me once again. This was during that period where Jee Yeun first declined to return to the USA with me. I didn’t know it then of course, but that proved to be the beginning of the end for us. Anyway, here is one analysis of Hemingway’s story:
A Clean, Well Lighted Place” is Hemingway’s paean to a type of existential nihilism, an exploration of the meaning, or lack thereof, of existence. It clearly expresses the philosophy that underlies the Hemingway canon, dwelling on themes of death, futility, meaninglessness, and depression. Through the thoughts and words of a middle-aged Spanish waiter, Hemingway encapsulates the main tenet of his existential philosophy. Life is inherently meaningless and leads inevitably to death, and the older one gets, the clearer these truths become and the less able one is to impose any kind of order on one’s existence or maintain any kind of positivity in one’s outlook.
Here’s another, which strikes me as a little more scholarly. I wonder what ever happened to the paper I wrote for course credit? Apparently it didn’t make it to the internet. Anyway, A Clean Well-Lighted Place is not exactly the story of my life. At least not yet! But I like it. If you have not read it, you can have it read to you. Takes less than ten minutes and I deem it to be time well spent!
This post really went off in a weird direction, didn’t it? Anyway, despite appearances I’m doing fine and I am optimistic I’ll be doing even finer in the days to come.
It was all nothing, and a man was nothing, too…Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it was nada y pues nada y pues nada. Our nada who art in nada nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give us this nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada. Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee…
Or perhaps more appropriately, the city of soiled doves.
I don’t like Angeles City but in a perverse kind of way it’s good to periodically have a short visit there just to remind myself why. And as an added bonus it makes Barrio Barretto so much more appealing.
I blew into town yesterday for a brief overnight stay. I had made an impulsive decision to attend a dance contest in AC featuring the Hot Zone dancers, a bar owned by the Grand Master of Subic Hash.
It was good to see that the powers that be saw fit to honor me with a star on the Walking Street hall of shame.
Upon arrival I went out in search of something to eat. And seeing as how roughly half the signage in the area was in Hangul, I figured I couldn’t go wrong with Korean food. I settled on a place in the lobby of the W hotel on Walking Street which featured some street side tables. That proved to be a mistake.
One of my pet peeves in AC is the beggars and street vendors. And from the moment I sat down it seemed that every other passerby was either asking for money or trying sell me something I didn’t need. A lot of the beggars were young kids, but damn it, I wasn’t about to reward their unacceptable behavior of interrupting a man’s meal. There’s a time and a place, even for charity.
The food service was also spotty. The waitress forgot to bring my beer. And came back to say my dwaeji galbi was “not available”. I pressed her on how a Korean restaurant could be out of galbi and she replied that it was “still marinating”. Whatever. I had some bulgogi and samgyupsal, both of which were mediocre. Oh well.
I had some time to kill before the dance competition began at Insomnia Bar, so I sat down at a little outdoor bar next door. Had a few drinks and some nice chat with a bargirl there named Rona. What caught my eye about her was she had a fair skinned face with Western features and what appeared to be sexy legs under the short and flowing skirt she was wearing. When she got up to fetch a drink though I noticed one of her legs was deformed and quite a bit shorter than the other one. I’m not sure why but I felt a great deal of admiration for her perseverance. Rona told me she had lived in Barretto briefly a couple of years ago with her Aussie boyfriend and returned to AC after the relationship ended. And she claims to remember me from one of my long ago visits to AC. She pointed out where I had been seated, and since this was only the third time I can recall being at this bar and I had in fact sat there one time, perhaps she was right. Anyway, she was pleasant company.
Then it was on to Insomnia. Place was packed a full hour before the show and I was lucky to get a seat next to the dance floor (I prefer to sit further back). There were a few other guys I recognized who made the trip down from Barretto as well. To be honest, the actual competition was a disappointment. Alaska Bar did the same old tired routine I had seen numerous times and their girls just are not very attractive. Hot Zone has some hot dancers and did a sexy routine that was nice to watch. But the Insomnia gals were by far superior to their competitors. I didn’t even stick around for the judging.
This is a horrible photo that doesn’t do the Insomnia girl or the costume justice. But it’s the only one I took.
I walked back to the hotel, had a banana split, then went to bed. Up early this morning and my driver (he spent the night in his car) was having coffee and waiting for me.
Back to Barretto and it’s been a rainy day here. So no walking for me today, but I did have a nice long nap. I’ll get after those steps again tomorrow I reckon.
Before I knew Greg was ill I had planned on visiting Alley Cats on Tuesday afternoon to throw darts and hand out pasalubong (souvenirs) from my trip to Korea. Greg would normally be there for the tourney as well, but of course this time his only presence was in the form of a donation box to help fund his funeral expenses. It did put a damper on my mood and I was too late to play (having made a second trip to the hospital) so I just sat and watched the competition. Well, sat and drank beer while I watched that is.
So, sitting at the table next to me was Greg’s buddy Patrick. We did our usual small talk and I couldn’t help but wonder to myself why I hadn’t seen him at the hospital. He was certainly much closer to Greg than I was. But not my business and no big deal to me. When the tourney was completed I bought all the girls working a round of drinks. I was having my own private wake for Greg in a way I thought he might appreciate. It also meant I had five gals sitting with me at my table which facilitated handing out the pasabulong (mostly trinkets like key chains and pens).
Marissa had also gone to the hospital and was actually with Irene (Greg’s girlfriend) when the doctor announced that Greg was dead. It was good that she was there to provide some comfort. Anyway, Irene apparently did her goodbyes, hugging and kissing the corpse. And in something that I assume is a Filipino thing, posing for pictures with the body. Me, I don’t even like to attend funerals. My preference is to remember the living person, not viewing the remains.
So Marissa had joined us at my table and was speaking in Tagalog with the girls. And then she started showing them pictures of the dead Greg. I didn’t want to see that so I turned my head. Patrick did see and he went nuts. Started shouting that’s sick, who does that, that’s fucked up, and he kept at for a good long time. I finally turned to him and said “I don’t like it either, but it’s a Filipino thing, so just don’t look”. Nope, he kept right on shouting and making disparaging remarks about Marissa for having the audacity to photograph Greg (at the girlfriends insistence). I’d finally had enough and told Patrick to shut the fuck up. If you don’t like Filipino ways, go somewhere else. That was enough to get him to direct his ire at me, which is fine.
Now Patrick is a useless drunk. He comes to Alley Cats everyday in the early afternoon and drinks until he can barely walk. I don’t give a shit about that, he’s just another pathetic loser in my book. I mean, the guy is probably close to my age and has a young Filipina wife and a two year old child. Again, to each his own but who knowingly fathers a child at that age? And if it was an accident, who doesn’t know better at that age? Regardless, given his lifestyle choices it is very doubtful Patrick will live long enough to see the child reach double digits in age. About all I can say on his behalf is that he did at least make sure his kid attained U.S. citizenship.
Another thing I dislike about Patrick is that he is a chickenshit coward. There’s a guy named Rudy who is in his late seventies and his girlfriend is the sister of Patrick’s wife. Now, I don’t know the story, but for whatever reason Patrick doesn’t like Rudy at all. On the occasions when Rudy is at Alley Cats for darts, Patrick taunts him and mocks him. Rudy does his best to ignore it but it is really a disgusting behavior to witness. I of course mind my own business and never say anything, but as I mentioned, it is just a chickenshit thing to do.
So, Patrick is all up in my face. I stand up and tell him “I’m not Rudy, asshole. If you want to fuck with me, bring it on! He started backing away and I’m all “come on motherfucker, let’s see how tough you really are”. About this time the girls at my table grabbed me and pulled me away. Punk ass Patrick was backing away towards the door. Finally the girls hustled me off to the other side of the bar and admonished me “you are better than him. Don’t lower yourself to his level”. I nodded and calmed myself down.
I think they were all surprised. I very rarely get that out of control upset. I can probably attribute my behavior to being a bit emotional over Greg’s death and not willing to let a lowlife like Patrick talk down to me or my friends. That and the beers I had consumed. Regardless, I sincerely doubt that he’ll make the mistake of challenging me again. The girls were right though. I am better than him and he’s not worth the trouble.
To reiterate, I too think it is fucked up to photograph the dead. I wouldn’t do it. And I might say to someone who does it “I think that’s fucked up”. But I wouldn’t go on and on about it nor would I insult that person in a personal manner. But for all his so-called outrage and offense, I can only say that Patrick didn’t care enough to visit his friend while he was actually still alive in the hospital. So fuck him.
I bought the girls another round of drinks and then I ordered us up some food (chicken wings, chicken fingers, shanghai lumpia, and of course, rice) from Sit-n-Bull’s delivery service). After we all ate till we were full I ordered a final round of drinks and my personal wake concluded without further incident.
Interestingly, this photo from one year ago popped up this morning in the Facebook memories feature:
The girl wearing the shirt is Meica who was also seated at my table last night. I just wish I had remembered those words. It would have been a perfect rejoinder to Patrick’s loud mouth. Also of interest in this photo is that the man in the background is the recently deceased Greg.
Anyway, that was yesterday. This afternoon I’m heading down to Angeles City for the night. Two Barretto bars are competing in a dance competition there and I’m going cheer for my hometown teams. Probably just as well that I get out of town for a few hours and get my head back on straight.
Peace out!
UPDATE: My oh my, I see I used the “Aftermath” title once before. On October 31, 2017. The aftermath in that post was the carnage that resulted from Loraine fucking me over. Today’s aftermath is much, much easier to deal with, that’s for sure.
It was also great to read Kevin’s supportive comment again and remembering the Hindu concept of samsara he explained. As strange as it may seem, I do believe I am making progress. Perhaps in a two steps forward, one step back kind of way, but progress regardless.
Some sad news to report. A guy I know pretty well is currently on life support in the ICU at Lourdes hospital here in Barretto. I wrote an unflattering post about him back in September last year. We haven’t had a recurrence of that drama since then and actually have gotten along pretty well on those occasions we’ve been in the same place at the same time. Greg’s big problem has always been the drinking, or more specifically, the way he acts when he’s been drinking to excess. And that’s pretty much all the time.
Anyway, his lifestyle appears to have caught up with him. It really came as no surprise that the life threatening issues he faces primarily involve the liver. His girlfriend texted me last night that the doctor said he had a “50-50” chance to recover. This morning when I went to the hospital to visit he was in a coma. The girlfriend has been in contact with Greg’s mother who understandably wants to wait a few days before pulling the plug. This afternoon the girlfriend asked me for some money to purchase blood platelets the doctor suggested so perhaps not all hope is lost. Still, it doesn’t look good at all.
It’s really a shame though. Greg is only 44. He retired after twenty years in the military and has been living here on his pension these past four years. And getting drunk most every night. Unlike me, Greg does hard liquor, often straight shots. I drink light/low alcohol beer exclusively and only rarely get drunk drunk. Comparatively speaking, my liver is not being similarly abused. Or so at least I keep telling myself.
When I first heard from Greg’s girlfriend my thought was to get him the hell out of here to an American hospital as soon as possible. Obviously he is in no condition to travel but it wouldn’t matter anyway because I was informed that Greg lost his passport two years ago! Who does that and doesn’t bother getting it replaced? When I asked about his visa status the girlfriend said “he’s an overstay”. Yep, that figures. If he recovers he’s going to face some pretty sever reckoning with the Bureau of Immigration. They’ll lock him up until he can be deported but he can’t be repatriated without a passport. What a mess he has made of his life.
The girlfriend is doing her best to hold things together and be there for Greg. I admire her for that. But she is broke and so is Greg. The road ahead for her is going to be very difficult whatever happens. I guess this situation puts my recent whining about having sad memories in perspective, doesn’t it?
Ah well. Life goes on until it doesn’t. In the interim the best we can do is embrace the small pleasures that really do surround us. Like these guys:
Lucky and Buddy keeping an eye on the neighborhood from the living room porch.Apparently it is tiring work being a watchdog…
UPDATE: Greg died this afternoon. May his soul rest in peace.
Mama, put my guns in the ground I can’t shoot them anymore That long black cloud is comin’ down I feel I’m knockin’ on heaven’s door
Just like General MacArthur, I have come back to the Philippines. It’s nitty and gritty, it’s dirty and pretty. And I like it. It’s good to be back home where I belong.
But damn, it’s hot!
Walked through the front door just before 3 a.m. and Buddy didn’t know what to make of it. I saw him looking out the window as I exited the car, and as I approached he took off upstairs. When I opened the door I saw him peeking down through the handrails. He got a glimpse of me and came back down to investigate. About this time my driver walked in and Buddy growled out him like he usually does. I told him “it’s okay Buddy” and I guess he recognized my voice because he came up and gave me a sniff just to be sure it was me. Once convinced, he went nuts, running in circles and whining, then standing on his hind legs and giving me hugs while I rubbed his back. He’s a sweet boy, that’s for sure.
Lucky had been out in the back yard and he was happy to see me (or to be let into the house) but was much more reserved around me, which is normal for him.
My domestic helpers were upstairs asleep of course, and soon enough so was I. I unpacked this morning, walked the dogs, and then walked myself for another hour. And of course this afternoon I’ve got the Hash. The notorious Leech My Nuggets is the Hare so I know I’m in for some punishment.
And damn it’s hot!
But hey it’s good to be back home again.
There will be another song for me For I will sing it There will be another dream for me Someone will bring it I will drink the wine while it is warm And never let you catch me looking at the sun And after all the loves of my life After all the loves of my life You’ll still be the one
I will take my life into my hands and I will use it I will win the worship in their eyes and I will lose it I will have the things that I desire And let passion flow like rivers through the sky And after all the loves of my life Oh, after all the loves of my life I’ll be thinking of you And wondering why
Preparing for my departure to Seoul at 0200 tomorrow. Pulled out the passport and noticed that the immigration folks had stamped this under my last visa sticker:
REMINDER: Secure Emigration Clearance Certificate Before You Leave The Country.
Hmm. Well surely I can get that down at the airport, right? Being the prudent guy that I am I had my driver take me to the immigration office in Olongapo City to get the lowdown. Hoo Boy. I was given a list of things I needed to bring and a long ass form to complete. And oh yeah, the first thing on the list said I needed to apply for the ECC one week prior to departure and that processing the application required 72 hours. Shit!
I told the immigration officer I was scheduled to fly on Thursday and asked if there was anything I could do to expedite the process. She said if I bring the required paperwork back that day I could pick up the ECC on Wednesday. Thank you, m’am!
The first thing I needed was three 2×2 photos of my handsome face against a white background. Luckily my driver knew where to go to get that done and we were off. I flirted a little with the gal in the hole-in-the-wall shop to no avail. But in the end she did give me what I came for:
See, I wasn’t being facetious about the handsome part.
The second thing on the list was a copy of my flight information. I needed to go back to the house for that though. So next I had the driver take me to the grocery store so I could pick up some supplies for the orphanage I sponsor. I got some stuff for my house as well but kept them separate in another cart (I had my domestic helpers to assist). After paying for the orphan stuff, the clerk rang up mine. I handed her my credit card and she said “sorry, only one transaction per card.” I was incredulous but couldn’t get an explanation beyond it being store policy. So I just kind of stood there in a Mexican standoff sort of way to see what would happen next (I had my debit card with me but preferred not to use it). The clerk finally relented and processed my card with a don’t do it again admonishment. Noted.
Back to the house and I asked my driver to return at 1:00 p.m. to take me back to immigration. I finally got my printer to agree to print my itinerary and I then completed the ECC form. Having everything required now in hand I made my triumphant journey back to immigration and handed over the paperwork.
Turns out you are not allowed to wear eyeglasses in the ECC photos. Who knew?
So back I went to the photo shop where I found the young gal running the place fast asleep at her work station. I guess I could have taken a nap too and told the world we slept together, but there was no time for that now. She awoke and took a new photo sans glasses and I was off.
This one worked!
So next thing I knew I was being fingerprinted and then I was relieved of 500 pesos and told to return this afternoon to pick up my ECC. Fingers crossed!
After completing my immigration ordeal it was off to the mall. I had told the orphanage director that I would host a monthly dinner for the kids and also celebrate any birthdays that happened during that month. There were two birthdays in May so I needed to get the requested presents. And the cake.
I had my helper order the cake, not sure a champagne bottle is appropriate for kids but…
Anyway, I delivered the goodies to the orphanage, made my usual donation, paid for dinner, and left. Honestly, I’m really not comfortable with this commitment. I feel like the time and money could be better spent somehow. In fact, one of my helpers thinks the place is a scam and the kids aren’t really in need. I don’t know about that, but I do see more desperate folks everyday. But for now at least I’ll keep on keeping on and see where it goes. The Director’s assistant is a real cutie, so there’s that.
What else? Spent a little time in Alley Cats last night and they gave me a little farewell party. That was sweet.
They even put a sign on the wall in my honor!
Here’s to hoping I don’t encounter any surprises at immigration this afternoon. I’m flying Asiana business class so I should be comfortable and even catch a flew zzz’s before waking up in Seoul tomorrow.
Here dead we lie Because we did not choose To live and shame the land From which we sprung.
Life, to be sure, Is nothing much to lose, But young men think it is, And we were young. –Alfred Edward Housman
And at the moment it is Memorial Day, a day on which a grateful nation gives thanks to those who lost their lives in defending our freedom.
The Korean War memorial in Washington, DC.
I always take a moment to pause and remember my great uncle Frank as well.
Frank remained in Europe after the war.
Other than that, there is not much to differentiate today from any other day in my life. Same with yesterday and probably tomorrow. I’m not complaining mind you. I’m doing what I want when I want and I reckon when I don’t want to do that anymore, I’ll figure out something else to do. Isn’t that what retirement is supposed to be all about? Sure, there’s more to life than walking and drinking. And I’ve done a lot of those things. Walking gives me peace of mind and drinking takes the edge off my brain’s tendency to overthink things. So it’s all good.
Speaking of walking, this was a wet one as I encountered an afternoon thundershower. I had gone back out to the valley for further exploration. And I actually found a nice circular route that could have the makings of a nice Hash trail. But maybe not for rainy season. After just a short storm I was having to avoid large puddles of water which leads me to think the path might be underwater after a sustained period of heavy rain. We’ll see.
Last night I dined at a small Korean restaurant here in Barretto. I’ve walked past it numerous times and never saw any customers which made me a little leery of the place. But I recently read a couple of positive online reviews so decided to give it a try. Of course, I had the place to myself.
That’s the bulgogi dish which was was tasty enough. I also had an order of samgyeopsal. I prefer my pork belly thicker and grilled at the table, but it wasn’t bad either. Only a couple of side dishes were included, but I found the kimchi to be quite delicious. It was also good to get some chopstick practice in as I leave for Korea on Thursday morning.
What else? Well, this gave me a chuckle:
If you offered AOC a penny for her thoughts she’d probably give you change.
Oh, and any grammatical errors here at LTG may be an indication that all those beers are taking a toll.
Or maybe not.
Anyway, life is what it is and for me it is mostly good. One day at a time, just taking it one day at a time.
If this life is one act Why do we lay all these traps We put them right in our path When we just wanna be free I will not waste my days Making up all kinds of ways To worry about all the things That will not happen to me So I just let go of what I know I don’t know And I know I only do this by
Living in the moment Living my life Easy and breezy With peace in my mind With peace in my heart Peace in my soul Wherever I’m going, I’m already home Living in the moment
The valley so low. Both physically and metaphorically.
This morning I explored a valley I’ve skirted the edges of several times. It’s mostly rice paddies with a few scattered shacks here and there. It might be something I can incorporate into a future Hash trail, especially if I need something flatter for rainy season. We’ll see.
The view as I entered the valley from the San Isidro side…And you might recognize “Easter” mountain on the far side of the valley.I’m not sure what this stuff was, but it gave off a strong “Children of the Corn” vibe as I hurried through…And finally, looking back from whence I came.Not a bad morning’s work.
I’ve been in a funk these past couple of days. In fact, today is the first day I’ve made it out for a hike since Monday. That is not at all in keeping with my walkaholic nature. The lack of energy and motivation and the difficulty I’m experiencing sleeping are reminiscent of the symptoms I’ve had in past bouts with depression. I’m hoping I can pull myself out of myself before I fall deeper into that black pit. Overcoming my inclination to blow off walking again this morning was a good first step (well, more like 12,000 steps) in moving onward and upward.
This too shall pass and all that jazz.
Down in the valley valley so low Hang your head over hear the wind blow Hear the wind blow dear hear the wind blow Hang your head over hear the wind blow
I didn’t realize this song was written by Pete Seeger. Learn something new everyday!
It started raining yesterday about two hours prior to the start of the Hash. I was worried about how well the powder I had laid on trail would hold up but there was nothing to be done about it and after about 45 minutes the skies cleared.
As the Hare I didn’t actually walk the trail with the Hashers (other than the first kilometer as I made my way home to man the beer check). But I got good feedback that the trail was well-marked and easy to follow. That was one of my main goals. Several others came to me to compliment the trail and to say they enjoyed the hike. The only real complaint I heard was about the long trail portion I added being boring. Yeah, that’s legitimate. All flat and on roads through subdivisions for the most part. The runners wanted distance and I gave it to them. Too bad if it was not challenging enough. Oh, and I did have a couple of people say the trail was harder than they expected it to be. I’m not sure how to take that, maybe they think I’m a wimp?
Bottom line, no one got lost and no one got hurt. I’ll take that any day! One of the Hashers posted photos from the hike on the SBH3 Facebook page. Let me share some of them here:
A nice map of my trail. The green line indicating the Long Trail addition.The Hashers stand in rapt attention and awe of the amazing Hare as he provides last minute guidance on the day’s trail.And we are “on-on”!Making our way through Alta Vista shortly before I left the Hashers to their own devices.“Have a nice hike!”It was a humid afternoon but at least the rain had stopped.Everyone loves a well-marked trail. At least I do.A quick meet and greet with the younguns…That’s Leech My Nuggets, one of the runners who prefers taking it LONG and HARD. The trail I mean. He’s one that didn’t like the boring long addition to my trail, although he said he did enjoy the rest of it.
Speaking of the runners, I was really quite impressed. The Hash started at 3:30. I got back to my place to man the beer check at 4:00. I estimated I might see the first runner come by at 4:45, but I was wrong about that. A female (don’t know her name) came trotting by at 4:30 and didn’t break stride for a cold drink. Her partner was a couple of minutes behind her. So that’s 8K + on terrain that including two climbs and a fairly steep downhill in one hour. Good job!
Hashers doing what Hashers do.Coming back into Alta Vista for the final trek to the beer check and on-home at Treasure Island.Liquid refreshment at the beer check. Actually, the water and Gatorade I provided was just as popular as the beer. Welcoming the stragglers.And finally, the last of the Hashers on trail arrive.And my day as the Hare was complete after the Hash circle.
I went ahead and marked the long trail yesterday afternoon. Made for a 29,000+ step day, but I got it done.
It DID NOT rain last night or this morning. Although as I write this I can see some worrisome clouds building up. Ah well, out of my hands and nothing to be done about it anyway. The chalk markings will hold up even if the powder doesn’t I suppose.
This morning I went out and walked the short trail again. I really didn’t want to but I reasoned that I needed to get some steps in anyway so might as well. I carried more powder and re-emphasized some more trail markings where appropriate. Actually the trail was looking pretty good so my efforts this morning were not really necessary. Well, at least I have some peace of mind about it now.
Let’s hope it doesn’t rain!
A view from the trail #1349 of the SBH#. (I inadvertently had my camera in zoom mode. Sorry about that.)What’s up with that?
Buddy doesn’t always sleep sprawled out on his back, but he does it pretty damn frequently. It seems strange to me but apparently it is not that uncommon.
If your dog is sleeping with all his limbs sticking up in the air (resembling a dead bug) he is submissive and vulnerable. Not all dogs sleep like this, but if yours does he is a laid back independent pup that feels secure in his surroundings.
Who knew?
Oh, I don’t think I mentioned that the Hare is not expected to do the trail with the other Hashers. So I will not be walking it yet again this afternoon. My plan is to tend to the beer check at my house and then move on down to the Hash “on-home” at Treasure Island afterwards. Should be a good day.
Now for a nap!
UPDATE: I see that I used the “ready to roll” title back in November 2015. I was flying out of Seoul for some vacay time in the USA. That was a lifetime ago.
Tomorrow I make my debut as the sole Hare responsible for setting this week’s trail with the Subic Bay Hash House Harriers (SBH3). It’s a huge responsibility and an even bigger pain in the ass. Here’s how my day of preparation has gone down (so far).
Up even earlier than normal so I could get on with the business of marking the trail while beating the worst of the heat. I arrived at Johansson’s (our starting point) at 0630 and got to work.
The SBH3 has our own storage room deep in the bowels of Johansson’s.Tools of the Hare trade include jugs to hold the powder we use to mark the trail….…and chalk to further point out direction to the Hashers. I personally detest a poorly marked trail so one of my goals was to give clear indications of which way to go.First order of business was I needed to fill those jugs up with powder. Bastards were pretty damn heavy too. I carried one and put the other in my backpack. I tried not to be stingy with my powder use but I was also keenly aware that I had 6+ kilometers of trail to mark. Turns out I needed every drop of powder I brought.
Now, obviously I’m not an experienced Hare but I had a decision to make. Some Hares prefer to mark the trail the day prior to the Hash. Others do it the morning of. The downside to the day before is that the powder can fade or even worse, wash away should there be rain overnight. Doing it the day of the Hash is a risk because it could be raining that morning or something else could go wrong causing a major fuck up. Anyway, I opted for today. Checking the weather forecast I see there is a possibility of isolated thunderstorms tomorrow. Hopefully all my hard work doesn’t go down the drain before we Hash. Nothing to be done about it I suppose. Well, if it rains this afternoon or tonight, I could go out in the morning and re-mark the trail. I’d rather not of course.
With powder and chalk in hand I commenced to walking the trail I had been piecing together these past few weeks.
And leaving appropriate signs along the way. This is in the Alta Vista subdivision. I’m doing the 1,349th SBH3 trail, hence the “49”.Time to get off the street and into the dirt. As Dorothy might have sang “follow the chalk and white powder”…Out in the countryside I’m marking trees instead of telephone poles…The powder is there to ensure a clear indication of where to turn at intersections is provided. Looking at this photo perhaps I should have laid it on thicker. PLEASE don’t rain on my parade!
So, as I may have previously mentioned, my trail has two medium length uphills and the climbs are not very steep. One significant downhill and then a relatively easy meandering path covering much of “My Bitch”. It does require walking through the yards of a couple squatter shanties. I always feel bad about creating a disturbance, dogs barking and the like. And knowing I’d be leading 30+ Hashers through their enclave is going to make a lousy day for them I suspect. Anyway, to assuage my guilt make up for their inconvenience I handed out tins of cookies as I passed through today. That seemed to be appreciated.
The trail continues on back into Alta Vista on our way “on-home” at Treasure Island in Baloy Beach. And since we are passing by my house I’ve incorporated a beer check into the hike. A stop off to refresh yourself and replace vital bodily liquids prior to hiking that last kilometer to T.I.
Maybe the highlight of the trek?Two cases of beer and another ice chest with water and soft drinks for those so inclined.I didn’t get to prepare the meal I was planning when last week’s on-home wasn’t at my home. But by gawd I’ve got some snacks for any hungry Hashers passing by…With thirsts quenched it’s just a short hike from my place out to T.I.I’m not up on all the Hash trail marking symbols, but I do know this one. Anyone care to hazard a guess as to what it means?
So the short trail is marked and ready. I still need to walk and mark the long trail (another 5K). I may go ahead and do that this afternoon so I can deal with any contingencies that may arise in the morning.
Being a Hare is dirty work and I’ve got the shoes to prove it!
And oh yeah, because of my need to get out and get busy early this morning, Buddy and Lucky had to forego their walk.
Come on guys! No need to pout about it. We’ll go walking again tomorrow. I promise!
Follow the yellow brick road Follow the yellow brick road Follow, follow, follow, follow Follow the yellow brick road
Follow the rainbow over the stream Follow the fellow who follows a dream Follow, follow, follow, follow Follow the yellow brick road
Yesterday I decided to walk the dogs past the house where they were recently attacked. There are only two or three routes I can take here in the neighborhood and I like to mix them up. Plus, it’s a matter of principle. I’m not going to let some irresponsible dog owner deprive me of the right to walk down a public street. And I came prepared with my walking stick fully intending to inflict whatever pain and suffering necessary to repel a crazy animal.
As I passed the house the dog was in the yard and as usual barking furiously. The street is a dead end and on my return past the house the owner was waiting outside for me. She said “do me a favor” and not walk past her house. She said I never know when you are going to pass by and my dog was out earlier. She told me “I don’t want anyone to get hurt”. As politely as I could muster I responded “Let me get this straight. You are telling me not to walk my dog on a public street so that you can let your dog run free?” She repeated “I don’t want anyone to get hurt”. And then said “Please!”. I shrugged and walked on.
Just around the corner one of the subdivision security guards pulls up on his scooter. He tells me he got a call from Mrs. So and So about me walking past her house. I said so? It’s a public street isn’t it? The security guy went into some kind of explanation but I didn’t really understand his English that well. He said he would talk to the So and So bitch as well, but in the meantime I should avoid “her” street. Well, that’s bullshit of course. But it seems since I am a renter here the homeowners get preference in these matters. And oh yeah, the security guy lets his dogs run free too. Anyway, this is clearly one of those situations I can’t win. I’m the foreigner after all.
My boys chillin’ on the front porch.
I do love my dogs. And according to this article I can’t help myself. It’s in the DNA.
What else? Well, I played the worst darts I can remember yesterday in league. My own damn fault as I’ve not been practicing at all. Honestly, after this season I might just hang it up until I can rediscover my motivation to work on my game.
Oh, and here’s a couple more photos from Wednesday’s Sausage Walk.
This provides some context as to where we were in relation to Barretto. Definitely out in the boonies.Veronica was wide open to having some fun. Or so it appears. She’s a cutie, that’s for sure.This is what the countryside around Tibag looks like.And that’s what I look like after being drenched in rain.
Stay tuned for the next installment from my so-called life…
A good time out in the countryside yesterday with the Sausage Walkers. I’ll tell the story through photographs if you don’t mind. Well, even if you do mind…
I hadn’t gone out with the Wednesday group for a few weeks. The Germans kind of took it over and did these intense marathon walks that I just didn’t enjoy. This time I was assured it would be a “fun” walk and since I knew other like-minded folks would be in attendance I signed up.
Here we are loading up in the Hashmobile. Of course, making room for the beer was first priority. The rest of us crowded in as best we could for the long (around 40 minutes) uncomfortable ride out to the countryside. I’m thinking (hoping) this picture of our driver was posed. Regardless, we made it there and back again without incident.Disembarking after our arrival at our destination.And carrying our beer supplies down to our campsite on the creek.Time to hit the trail!The path led us up to the headwaters of the Matain River. It sure is a lot cleaner here than it is when it empties into Subic Bay…Pausing for a bit of relaxation before resuming our hike.I’m not sure what this shit was (and I hope it wasn’t shit) we encountered on the return trail. I made it about 3/4 of the way across before that piece of wood gave out and I found myself wading. Well, we had a couple of more clean stream crossings and I didn’t hesitate wading through them to get the “mud” off of my shoes…The rarely seen Penis tree growing in the wild. They are hard to find. I understand they stiffen in the breeze. When fully mature they stand erect. The women folk tell me the wood is excellent. For cooking. Alright, that’s enough I suppose…And yes, we were in fact passing through the Tibag community. The walk was actually a little longer than this. I forgot to start my tracker…Back at the campsite getting ready to eat. And drink.“Where in the hell is my sausage?”Oh, there it is. Never mind. Enjoy yourself.
Anyway, it was a good day. Well, shortly after we finished eating it started raining. We had no shelter and of course the back of the truck was open. So we just sat there drinking and getting soaked. After the first few minutes it seemed pretty natural. The deluge probably lasted 30 minutes and then moved on.
Oh, and the beermeister didn’t have any San Miguel Zero, so I wound up drinking the strong stuff. With predicable results. I don’t recall much about the trip home. But I did wake up in my bed this morning. So there’s that.
I knew yesterday’s Hash would be a tough one. It was hot and the notorious Leech My Nuggets was the Hare. So, when Leech announced that the medium trail was “only” 7 KMs I thought to myself “why not?” and hopped in the Hashmobile. Just before departure Leech looked in the truck (granted, not at me directly) and said “some of you ought not be doing this trail”. Who knew a masochist could be so kind? Well, when Leech My Nuggets admits his trail is a motherfucker (or more aptly, more of a motherfucker than normal) I ain’t one to argue. I hopped out of the truck and went with the group doing the shorter 4 KM trail. That turned out to be a good decision.
The trail for Hash Run #1348. The long version went straight up over the big mountain and back down into Olongapo City. And then back up again and down to Barretto. The short version I walked started in Olongapo thereby eliminating the climb I’ve done before that we all call “the motherfucker”.
Of course, the climb up from Olongapo was no easy walk in the park. If I had to name it, I’d call it the “Come to Jesus” trail. None of the veteran Hashers could recall ever having hiked that way previously. Indeed, in places it felt like we were blazing a brand new path.
The gals of the SBH3 at the drop off point in Olongapo City.And then it’s “on-on”. That’s your humble correspondent making his way up what seemed to be an endless flight of stairs…About a third of the way up was this church/shrine.“Jesus can’t go Hashing ’cause he’s hanging on a cross…” is an actual Hash song lyric. Actually, one of the more tame lines in that particular song. Yeah, we are all gonna burn in hell…I went up to pay my respects. “Jesus, will I have an easy trail today?” The response was “son, you haven’t got a prayer”.So we continued on up. The stairs gave out about half way up and then the real climbing began. Fuck you Leech!But we eventually made it to the top and were rewarded with this view of Olongapo City.Kids are kids everywhere in the world I suppose. Although I suspect these kids must have thought we were crazy to be out climbing mountains for no reason.On the trail making our way back down.Our destination–Barrio Barretto in all her glory…
Made it back to the “on-home” at Hot Zone without incident. Over an hour and a half hiking to go 4 KMs says something about the terrain. As slow as I am going up, I’m even slower coming back down. Gravity is not my friend.
We did our usual Hash circle activities. The festivities were a little muted because it was election day and the Filipinas among us were not permitted by law to drink beer.
But the Gash (female Hashers) still looked good on ice…
And yes, I spent some time on the ice as well.
I was “honored” for completing my 50th Subic Hash with a soiled headband and the “Get a Life” song…Where does the time go?
It was also announced that I would be next week’s Hare. I told the circle it was going to be “an old man’s trail”. The old men present seemed to appreciate that!
Had a bit too much excitement whilst walking Buddy and Lucky this morning. I always stay in the neighborhood with the dogs because there are too many aggressive strays on the streets outside. There are a couple of assholes in the subdivision that let their dogs out, but all they do is bark. Usually I just pick up a rock and they turn tail and run away.
So today I’m walking and I see a dog up ahead, just standing there staring at us. As I approach he continues to stand motionless, no barking, just that stare. To be on the safe side, I cross to the street. But as I pass he comes charging in full attack mode. He was probably twice the size of Buddy. Buddy to his credit wasn’t taking any shit and got right back into it with the aggressor. I hollered and picked up a rock, yanked Buddy back on his leash, and chucked the rock at the fucker. He took off for home. Man, I was pissed.
I recognized the dog as the one who lives on the last house on this street. The dog has always been within the fenced yard and barks like crazy when I pass by. That’s natural and doesn’t bother me. Anyway, as I approached the house I saw the aggressor dog was in the yard but the gate was open. So I called out to the house and the female owner came out. I told her I had been attacked by her dog. She seemed surprised to hear that, but not for long. Because, you guessed it, that bastard attacked us again! She screamed and yelled at the dog to no avail. And the fight was much more brutal this time. Buddy and him are really going at it, I’m trying to pull Buddy back but of course that had no effect on the bully dog. The owner tried to come in between them, got tangled in the leash, and knocked to the ground. I started kicking her fucked up dog, he’d back off for a second then come back in. I must have kicked that bastard three times as hard as I could and he wouldn’t back off for long. After one kick, he did leave Buddy who was fighting back hard and then attacked poor little Lucky, who didn’t stand a chance. Some other people came out of the house and managed to chase the demon dog back into the yard.
Buddy had a couple of bite marks and Lucky was bleeding from one of his ears. The owner was on the ground in pain, apparently she had recently had back surgery. I almost felt sorry for her until she admitted she had intentionally let her dog out. “I didn’t expect anyone would be walking by” was her excuse. I told her I walk this way every other day and she had seen me do so. I asked her if her dog had his shots and she assured me that he did. The dog looks healthy and well-cared for so I tend to believe her. Both of mine have had rabies vaccinations so I trust they will be fine.
Hell of a way to start my morning though. Jesus.
So I walked over to Mango’s for breakfast on the bay.And even though I had a BLT just yesterday, I ordered another so reader Kevin Kim could vicariously enjoy my sandwich. Actually, this was my third in a week–one at Sit-n-Bull, one at Treasure Island, and today at Mango’s. I’d rank Sit-n-Bull best, with TI a close second. Sorry Mango’s. Your grilled meats are still tops though.
This is political but I had to laugh:
The science is settled!
And to cleanse your palate, a non-political joke I like:
An 85-year old man is having his annual checkup. The Doctor asks him how he is feeling.
“I’ve got an eighteen-year old bride who’s pregnant with my child. What do you think about that?”
The Doctor considers this for a moment, and then says, “Well, let me tell you a story. I know of a guy who’s an avid hunter. He never misses a season. But one day he’s in a bit of a hurry and he accidentally grabs his umbrella instead of his gun. So he’s walking in the woods near a creek and suddenly spots a beaver in some brush in front of him! He raises up his umbrella, points it at the beaver and squeezed the handle. BAM ! The beaver drops dead in front of him.
“That’s impossible!”, says the old man in disbelief, “Someone else must have shot that beaver.”
The Doctor says, “My point exactly.”
That joke is especially apropos here in the PI where December/April romances are not uncommon. And yes, I see guys older than me raising up newborns. Not how I intend to spend my golden years, that’s for sure. Luckily I’ve been shooting blanks since I was 50.
Alright, I’ll leave y’all with a song I hadn’t even thought of for decades. I think it’s the only song I know that features a dogfight. Enjoy!
In the nick of time, a hero arose A funny-looking dog with a big black nose He flew into the sky to seek revenge But the Baron shot him down – “Curses, foiled again!”
Now, Snoopy had sworn that he’d get that man So he asked the Great Pumpkin for a new battle plan He challenged the German to a real dogfight While the Baron was laughing, he got him in his sight
That bloody Red Baron was in a fix He’d tried everything, but he’d run out of tricks Snoopy fired once, and he fired twice And that bloody Red Baron went spinning out of sight
Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty or more The bloody Red Baron was rollin’ up the score Eighty men died tryin’ to end that spree Of the bloody Red Baron of Germany
Today I was feeling depressed motivated, so I took a longer than normal walk. I wanted to map out my trail for next week’s Hash and so I set about doing so. I hoofed it over to Johansson’s and turned on my tracker then walked the “short” trail, ending at the scheduled “on-home”, Treasure Island on Baloy Beach. That portion was 6.5 KM and took me right at two hours to complete (I’m slow on the uphills and descents).
While I was at Treasure Island I enjoyed a BLT sandwich and reflected on the fact that this is where I was staying one year ago while looking for my permanent lodging options
Now I needed to incorporate the longer trail into my map, so I turned off the tracker and walked Baloy Beach road back to the National highway. I turned the tracker back on at the junction where the short trail veers off to Alta Vista subdivision and proceeded to walk the 5 KM section that will hopefully give the runners the additional distance they crave. Anyway, the map came out looking like this:
That big loop to the left is the long trail portion. It rejoins the short trail at the checkered flag. The long trail doesn’t include the first 2 KMs of the short trail, so in total the long trail is 3KMs more than the short version. Basically 9 and 6 KMs. That’s good enough said the Hare.
I was a sweaty mess when I finished that hike! Speaking of motivation, this photo from 6 years ago appeared on my FB feed this morning:
A fat man on the mall in DC. Well, that was a heartbreak and 70 pounds ago. Man oh man, I didn’t have a clue what was coming…
Now that I’ve reached my weight loss goal (at or below 200 lbs) I will indulge myself when I so desire. Like last night. I was having a sandwich and I saw on the daily special menu “fresh baked pecan pie”. I’ll have some of that I told the waitress. And put a scoop of vanilla ice cream on it.
Sorry the picture quality is so poor, I guess my flash was turned off. Anyway, it tasted much better than it looks here.
And finally, it is Mother’s Day and I’m of course missing my mama. It’s been over eight years since she passed but time doesn’t diminish the memory.
A mother’s hug lasts long after she lets go.
And so it goes.
I used to hurry a lot I used to worry a lot I used to stay out till the break of day Oh, that didn’t get it It was high time I quit it I just couldn’t carry on that way Oh, I did some damage, I know it’s true Didn’t know I was so lonely, till I found you
