I had it in my mind to bake a cake for the Hideaway girls and proceeded accordingly. Once all the ingredients were blended, poured into the cake pans, and popped into the oven, I set my phone alarm for 2:53–thirty-five minutes later. Except in a moment of Biden-like idiocy, I somehow set the timer for 3:53. I got busy blogging and didn’t notice the passing of time until it was too late. The cake was not exactly burned, but it was dry and hard. My pride would certainly not let me serve such a debacle of tastelessness. Oh, well, it happens. With scarily increasing frequency.
The girls had to settle for Oreo cookies to go with their Chook’s fried chicken. They didn’t seem to mind.
Bye-bye chicken legAs sweet as a cookie
With my duties completed (and several beers downed) at Hideaway, I moved on back up the highway. I was thinking I’d pop into the new Mugshots bar, but it was closed. Not sure what’s up with that. Hard to believe the owner threw in the towel less than one month after opening. I’ll update when I learn more about the situation.
I made Cheap Charlies my second stop instead. I don’t go there as much these days. The bargirl there that is scamming her foreigner “boyfriend” or her husband (or both) ignored my presence, and I notice she has unfriended me on Facebook. That’s fine with me; her messages of “love” to that dumb fuck in the USA were disgusting to witness. Maybe she was afraid I was going to rat her out, but I would never do such a thing. That’s why I’m not using her name on the blog, either. It’s not my place to get involved–I’ll let Karma sort it out. I got a nice back rub and some company from my other two regulars, and hey, it’s cheaper to buy two girls drinks than it is three. Win-win!
When I departed CC, I wasn’t sure where I was going to go next, but I was thinking I’d visit somewhere I rarely frequent. Then on a whim, I decided to hit Sloppy Joes. As usual, I sat in the outdoor area, watching the world go by on the highway. I got good service from a cute waitress but no companionship. That’s fine too. A bit later, two other young ladies came out, and I assumed they were employees as well. They sat at the table next to me, and when I finished my beer and asked to pay my tab, the cute one in a short skirt encouraged me to stick around for a while and enjoy “the party.” Hmm, well, I still hadn’t hit my bedtime, and I couldn’t think of anything better to do, so I ordered another beer.
Then the two girls changed the music to something from this century and got up and danced together. Well, twerking would be more accurate. And that one in the short skirt was amazing. She could really shake that ass, but she was also doing full-leg splits to the floor like a gymnast. And then twerking from that position too. Naturally, that little skirt rode up, and I had a direct panty-shot view. It was the sexiest dance routine I think I’ve ever seen, and she was certainly more skilled than most of the bar dancers in town.
When she finished her routine, I got up to take a leak. When I returned, she was having a bit of a confrontation with a young woman who had driven up during my absence. It was a scene reminiscent of a jealous girlfriend trying to drag her man out of the bar. Hard to believe such a sexy gal who seemed to enjoy putting on a show for me could be lesbian. Maybe the other woman was her sister. Anyway, Miss sexy short skirt went out to the car with her friend or whomever it was. My waitress explained that the girl did not work at Sloppy Joe’s; she was just hanging out at the bar. A kind of weird end to my night, but I did rather enjoy it.
Well, I did have another weird thing occur–I heard from my Korean wife, something that rarely happens. She wanted some advice about someone she had met online. He claimed he was an American doctor in Iraq and couldn’t wire money from there to his daughter for her birthday. I advised her it was an obvious scam. But she told me that he sent her a copy of his American passport.
Well, the first two things that jumped out at me were that the signature (whatever it reads) doesn’t match the name of the passport. I also noted that the passport says it was issued in August 2022 and that it expires in August 2024. American passports are issued for ten-year periods.
Jee Yeun thanked me and blocked him. I hope she’s more careful about who she befriends in the future.
The other event in my day was the morning hike with the Wednesday Walkers group. We took a Jeepney out to Calapadayan (about 5K from Barretto). Our original plan was to do a short hill climb, then walk back to our little town. A wrong turn led to a much longer and steeper climb, and by the time we made it back down from the mountain, we were tuckered out, so took a Jeepney back home. Finished our adventure with lunch at John’s place.
Here are some photos from our journey:
The path we took Our original plan was to go between those peaks, then walk the back roads to Barretto.At our 7/11 gathering spotRosemarie and Lydell from Snackbar joined us on our hike.On the mean streets of CalapadayanMonkeying around for the group shotLeaving the gorilla in our midstSomething seemed off about this street sign.The guys leading the pack couldn’t hear Scott’s warning that they had missed the turn.At the gates of an abandoned water park. Now what do we do?I’m sorry, but sliding out of a downed jetliner seems just a tad creepy to me.And there was also a dinosaur in the woods.Anyway, the waterpark was now a pigsty (literally), and a woman came out to advise us we were not welcome on their private property. So, we headed out in a different direction.A bridge crossingWe’ve got this in the bagWe had to keep walking to find out where the path would lead us.Charles in his role as the candyman.I got here first with the cookies, though!There’s no turning back nowAnd up we go!The conditions were jungle-likeBut still, we plodded onYoungsters like Lydell didn’t seem to have any issues with the climb. I heard a lot of bitching from some of the oldsters. Honestly, though, compared to last week’s stairway to heaven, this wasn’t so bad.Just gotta keep on keepin’ on.An uling (charcoal) “factory” on top of the mountain.Made for a nice resting and regrouping timeout.Alright then, let’s find our way down.The view from hereMust be a male treeOn downAlmost thereAh, solid ground!Heading for the highwayWaiting for a JeepneyRiding the Jeep back to BarrettoSome pool before lunch at John’s place (3rd-floor bar)The view from John’sMy roast beef and cheddar sandwich with fries. Deliciosio!
No, I’m still moving at a slow speed, but yesterday’s Hash trail was a little different and actually quite nice. Cumslinger was a first-time Hare (assisted by Fucking Cupcake), and while the area we hiked was familiar, the actual paths for most of the trail were new to me. There was one climb at the end that I managed to bypass, so I consider that a win too.
The meet-up location was at the junction of the National and Govic highways. From there, we took a hired Jeepney all the way out to Naugsol, which surprised me because I had signed on for the “easy” trail. Just walking the road back would have been a good slog, but as it turned out, the paths through the fields, forests, and landfills cut some of that distance down. I logged in at just over 6K, start to finish.
We had a heavy rain in the morning, but by the afternoon start, the sun was shining. The Hares had a unique way of marking most of the trail–stapling pieces of paper to leaves and tops of thatch grass. It actually worked pretty well visibility-wise, at least on my portion of the hike. I’m told the people who did the long trail got lost in places because some of the locals apparently removed the stapled paper the Hares had left. That’s the thing with powder and shredded paper on the ground; it’s much harder for malicious individuals to remove.
Here are some pictures from the journey:
Walking to the meet-up location, I saw this new store getting ready to open. I had to laugh at the unique name.And at the meeting location was a sign announcing a new samgyeopsal resto called Meat and Pan. The locals are crazy about grilled pork belly, I guess. By my count, that makes five locations featuring this delicacy in our little town. I also noted that this is the only one that actually spells ‘samgyeopsal’ correctly. (I misspelled it for years until a reader shamed me enough that I stopped writing “samgyapsol” which to me was phonetic, but apparently, I pronounce it wrong too)The path I (mostly) walkedLoaded up and ready to roll in the unique safety and comfort of the Jeepney.Well, hello there, Annabel. (She works at my old haunt, Alley Cats, and was my first crush when I moved to the Philippines.)Off-loading at our drop-off location on the road leading to Naugsol.And we are On-On!Over a rickety bridgeA wary carabaoThrough the fields, well, at the edge of the field anyway.I rarely see Easter mountain from this side.The wide-open spaces.This was a landfill up until about a year or so ago. Rumor has it is being groomed to be a new subdivision. I got a laugh as we walked along because I could still see some trash (plastic bottles, flip-flops, etc.) poking up through the dirt. If they do build houses here, folks will be in for a surprise if they want an in-ground swimming pool!Let’s get out of this dump!Into that damn tall grass again. ‘Tis the season.Another rarely viewed side of Easter mountain.Into the woods. You can see some of the paper markers in the tree leaves.We also had some pink chalk arrows to follow. (I jokingly called it a Pride trail).We brought some life to this cemetery as we passed through.You can’t see it, but this portion of the trail was wet and muddy underfoot.I honestly just now made the connection between the ubiquitous thatch grass we wade through and the very common thatch roofs on dwellings. At least it serves a meaningful purpose.Back on dry ground.A bloomin’ tree.A narrow passageway.And finally, we arrived at our On-Home venue, Yero’s. I kinda like this place, and if it were closer to my house, I’d drop in for a beer and a snack now and then.Over fifty Hashers were in attendance for yesterday’s adventure.A table full of Harriettes.And some more Gash standing.Cumslinger was rewarded for his efforts as a Hare by receiving the Hashit.
Well done!
You can Relive the hike here if you are so inclined:
So, I made it out to Angeles City and back unscathed. We signed up for the anniversary event at Premier Hotel, the ACH3 On-Home, then followed the jeepneys full of Hashers out to the trailhead, a thirty-minute drive over some very dicey roads (my driver’s vehicle bottomed out once and almost got stuck in sandy soil). Getting out again in the dark wasn’t much better, but we made it.
On the way to the start, I kept telling my Hash companion Scott that the scenery looked oddly familiar. He kept insisting we’d never been there before, but there was a dream-like “I remember this” quality to the views throughout the trip. And then, when we pulled into the field where the Hash event would be held, I knew for sure I’d been there. It was almost two years ago with the Corona Hash group. Scott hadn’t attended that run, so we were both right. And as it turned out, we wound up doing the exact same trail that I had Hashed with the Corona H3. So much for seeing something new on this trip.
That said, it was a nice trail on a beautiful day. A tough steep up, but it wasn’t too long. Some meandering along the hilltops, sometimes with a precipitous drop on either side, then a not-too-difficult climb down (on the medium trail anyone, I understand the long trail required a rope for the descent–no thank you!), and then a walk back to Hash circle on a flat dirt road. Took us about two hours from start to finish.
As usual, let’s tell the story in pictures:
We arrived in Angeles a little early, so we popped into this small resto-bar started by a female Hasher in AC. No, we didn’t drink alcohol before our hike, but we did order lunch.The interior walls feature the names of Hashers who have visited the resto-bar. They took our Hash names so we could be added to the collection.Our trail as seen from aboveSome added perspectiveThe Hare gives guidance prior to the start.And we are On-On!At the beginning of the climb to the topYeah, they are a bunch of posers.Steep it wasMy poor lungs were huffin’ and puffin’ all the way up.One step after another will eventually get you there.Finally!That would be meI used some zoom so you can see Angeles in the distanceAnother high viewI was pretty much back of the pack, as usualOne of those scary drops where one false step and you are a gonerWe all lived to tell about itThe serenity of survivalSee you crazy fuckers later; I’m going straight!I’m heading downThanks to Scott (Pubic Head) for a lot of these photosThe tunnel of love?Forward or backward are the only optionsHeading for the flatBuying some freshly harvested buko (coconut)They love that juice, er, milkSo that’s where bananas come from!Roadwork for the final kilometerAn Aeta (native) family we encountered along the way. Yep, they got the cookies!Almost there!The ACH3 anniversary gatheringAlmost like campingBut I managed to borrow a chair…
As Hash circles go, the AC version was pretty tame, if not lame. But everyone has their own style, and I can find plenty to criticize about how we do it in Subic, too. A long and expensive trip for a few hours of fun, but no regrets.
UPDATE: Well, I’ll be damned. Turns out that Corona Hash I mentioned was in March 2021. It’s a little scary that my memory of that trip was so vague. Ironically, that linked post was titled “Things can always be worse.” A couple of days later, I came down with the Corona, as did several other attendees. We all lived to tell about that, too.
This a rare morning post here at LTG, but I have a full day ahead of me, so I’m in “now or never” territory. I’ll be heading out to Angeles City in a couple of hours to participate in the ACH3 anniversary Hash run. Pubic Head and some of our Harriettes will be sharing the ride with me. Something different for my Sunday, and hopefully, we’ll all have fun.
Here’s how I filled those Saturday hours:
A sloppy-looking but tasty breakfast burrito got my day off to a good start.
I did my usual Saturday morning Barretto street walk.
Just under 8K, and I managed a 12.30 per kilometer pace, which is moving out for me.Right outside the subdivision gates, I observed this fallen bamboo tree caught up in the power lines. I fear there may be a “brownout” in my future (the power company is not big on preventive maintenance.)
During my solo walks, I wear my headphones and listen to music on Spotify. The playlists are usually full of songs that I’m familiar with, but every once in a while, I hear something new that resonates with my current mood. Yesterday I listened to a John Prine tune called “Clay Pigeons” for the first time. Here’s the verse that made me say, “who wrote this?” as I walked along (yeah, I must have looked like a crazy guy talking to myself on the street):
I'm tired of runnin' round lookin' for answers
To questions that I already know
I could build me a castle with memories
Just to have somewhere to go
Count the days and the nights
That it takes to get back in the saddle again
Feed the pigeons some clay
Turn the night into day
And start talkin' again
When I know what to say
So, when I got back home, I looked at John Prine’s Wikipedia page and discovered that he didn’t write the song above; it was a cover version of the one written by someone named Blaze Foley, whom I’d never even heard of before. His wiki page revealed a life even more convoluted than mine–no wonder I liked his song!
But hey, there’s more to life than searching for obscure information on the internet.
There’s also baking. Like this carrot cake. It turned out yum! I also made a batch of brownies for the Hideaway girls.
Yes, I had to do my Sunday feeding last night because I don’t expect I’ll be back from my trip to AC in time to hit the bars.
And I know my readers look forward to seeing Joy enjoy her meal–roast chicken last night.
One of my ex-girlfriends was at the bar with her new beau, and it was good to see her happy. I can’t help but lament how things might have been if I was better at being a boyfriend, but that’s the way it seems to go for me.
I also encountered my most recent ex at my next beer stop. We are on friendly terms too, but those wounds aren’t entirely healed yet. No real regrets; I wasn’t a good fit for her either.
It was weird, though, that this appeared in my Facebook feed while I was in her presence.
Anyway, there’s someone for me somewhere. Or maybe not. This solitary life could be my destiny. God may be saying, “WTF, dude? How many chances do you expect in one lifetime? And oh, by the way, about that lifetime–it ain’t gonna last forever.”
This seems strangely apt.
But I’m living in the land where miracles do happen. Especially if you can afford to pay for them. Speaking of which, a girl I was plying with drinks last night was telling me all the right things. She either really likes me or she is really good at her job. We shall see.
Meet Jenn. I lifted this photo from her Facebook page. I’ve got to say I find her incredibly attractive. Of all the bargirls in Barretto, I like her the best.
Am I headed for bliss or for trouble? Time will tell, so stay tuned here at LTG!
It felt like hell along the way, but we made it to the top.
There's some hikers who know there's a long way to go
And they're climbing the stairway to heaven
When the get there they know they'll have sweat-soaked clothes
But they'll gain the sweet views that they came for
And they're climbing the stairway to heaven
Someone claimed it's a thousand steps, but we couldn't be sure
Because it seems no one has ever really counted
As we climbed our way up the locals thought we must be nuts
Because who goes that way if they don't have to
Ooh, and it makes me wonder
Ooh, and it makes me wonder
There's a feeling I get, that seems like regret
As my lungs they are crying for breathing
In my thoughts I have said this makes me feel dead
And I'm climbing these steps for the last time
And it makes me wonder
But then we make it to the top
And see our town down there below
And we can't help but let it show
How glad we are that we did go
We took each step and didn't stop
And though the hike was very hard
And we weren't moving very fast
We were all for fun and fun for all
We tripped on rocks but did not roll
We were climbing the stairway to heaven
(apologies to Led Zepplin and everyone who just read those butchered lyrics)
Alrighty then. Yesterday, our Friday group caught a Jeepney to Olongapo City and hiked back to Barretto by going up and over Kalaklan ridge using the path that has been dubbed “the stairway to heaven.” It’s been a long time since we’ve taken that route up and yesterday was a good reminder of why–it’s a tough bitch. I don’t know if it is really a thousand stair steps, but it was a 235-meter climb. But we got it done, and that brings with it a special sense of accomplishment and satisfaction. Maybe for the last time.
Our path. A jeepney ride, a 1K road walk, a hard climb to the top of the ridge, then back down to Barretto town. We finished with some lunch at John’s place.Our Friday group of hikers.Our two newest members, Heidi on the left and Lydell on the right, seemed to enjoy themselves.A bit of highway walking at the start.This made me think of Kevin Kim’s unfortunate encounter with a horny driver during his Jeju island hike in South Korea.Then up an inclined street.I’m inclined to like what I see.And there it is–the stairway to heaven!A seemingly endless staircase testing our endurance.Onward!Upward!Name shame in taking a water stop along the way.And still, we climb the seemingly endless stair steps.A brief horizontal interlude.On and on and on we go.Tired yet, Scott?Almost there, don’t give up yet!So, I’m on the stairway to heaven. Looking down, I see Olongapo City. Does that mean it’s hell?A little diversion on the climb.At last, the end of the climb. “What took you so long, old man?”Way up here, all by itself, sits this abandoned house. There must be a story here. Maybe the hubby sent his wife down the stairs for beer one time too many.Regrouping on the ridgeline road.How’s that for a spider, Kevin?Let’s take a break.You can see my little slice of heaven from here!Even has angels!Movin’ out.Passing through the rooster farm.And walking the Great Wall of Barretto.Easter mountain as seen from the Great Wall.The Olongapo side of the bay.Let’s go home.Going down.And more down.Almost there.Back on flat ground and refreshments at the sari-sari store.Counting flowers on the wall that don’t bother me at all.Heidi and Lydell had enough energy to play pool while waiting for lunch to be served.I just took in the view.Ah, yes, pulled pork for me!The girls had bulgogi…And Korean-style chicken wings.
And that was my daytime trip to heaven.
Last night I did attend the SOB at Whiskey Girl. I met one of the Whiskey Girl girls, and she joined me for a few drinks before the show.
Say hello to Jah Jah, a 27-year-old cutie.We are now Facebook friends.
I wound up not going to the Aftermath and made it a relatively early evening. There is such a thing as too much of a good thing.
And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last
When all are one and one is all
To be a rock and not to roll
And she's buying a stairway to Heaven
Started my evening at Snackbar, where I joined in celebrating the occasion of Lydell turning twenty-two. I honestly thought she was older than that, but then again, age is just a number (provided that number is at least 18).
That’s the birthday girl with the brownies I baked for her.Heidi made that big batch of spaghetti.The birthday cake I funded.Blow out the candle before the wind does.Mama walked by just in time to partake in some pasta and cake.Me and the girls.And one of Lydell and me. Hmm, well, she is only forty-five years my junior.And the view from my seat at Snackbar. There is a reason that looks like a 7/11 store parking lot.
Anyway, it was nice to participate in the BD party. This morning Lydell and Heidi joined the Friday group hike for the first time on one of our tougher trails and seemed to enjoy themselves. More on that with photos tomorrow.
Now it’s time to prepare for my Friday night. There could be an SOB in my future, although honestly, I’m on the fence about attending tonight’s performance. I might need a break this week, but we’ll see how I feel when the time comes.
The same old same old is feeling kind of old. Or maybe it’s just that I am. But what else am I going to do? It’s not like we have a library in town. I reckon a few cold beers will cure whatever it is that’s ailing me.
I’m pretty sure I’ve posted this here before. It came up in my Facebook memories from four years ago this morning. It’s a good reminder.
The feeding at Hideaway seemed to go well. My carrot cupcakes were especially popular, and who doesn’t enjoy some hot pizza from Shamboli’s?
Pizza eaterJoy sinks her teeth into a cupcake.
And, of course, there were lady drinks to wash it all down.
After Hideaway, I visited Cheap Charlies for the first time in quite a while. My new mode is not to let the shenanigans of a particular bargirl impact where I choose to imbibe my beers. So, last night when I arrived, the girl in question sidled up beside me, and I told her, “I hope you have a happy life” then I turned my back and ignored her. I guess she got the hint because she moved away. As an old timer advised me once after I first moved here: there’s a word you say when a Filipina disappoints you–NEXT!
Meet Diana, a sweet little 23-year-old, the replacement for my disappointment.
Here I go again with eyes wide open! Actually, I jest. Some lady drinks and some chat are my only expectations. That and at least pretending to be appreciative. So far, so good. The most interesting thing I learned about Diana last night was that she lives with her mom and dad in the little village at the bottom of the dirt path that takes me out of Alta Vista. We are practically neighbors! She said she had seen me hiking by there and handing out cookies. Anyway, it’s nice to make a new “friend.”
While at Cheap Charlies, I received a message from Lydell, one of the Snackbar girls, inviting me to join them.
How could I say no? That’s Lydell on the left with Rosemarie and Heidi.
Today is Lydell’s twenty-second birthday, and I am the proud sponsor for her party tonight at Snackbar.
And since I was the only customer last night, the lady drinks flowed! Everyone seemed to have a good time, and it cost me around $35. It’s not hard to live large in my little town!
So, that’s the update on my drinking life. In my hiking mode, I led the Wednesday Walkers up into the hills overlooking Barretto for a pleasant 6K trek. Only six of us were in attendance this go-round, but everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. I’ll let the photos tell the story:
Pretty much how it was done…looks like there were a couple of burps in the GPS, though.Our merry band of walkers.Let the climbing begin.Some folks walk this every day; bless their hearts.That’s more like itSplendor in the grass.A nice view of Subic Bay.Posers!An Easter mountain viewBlooming thatch grassHello down there, Barrio Barretto!It seems that Todd has his hands full.We are in over our heads now!That’s the Kalaklan ridge off in the distance. Not going there this time.Mountain views.Todd holding court.Charles standing at the top of the hill that broke his leg last year.Another perspective on Easter mountain.A cookie delivery to my mountain friend, OliviaComing back down.Scott didn’t join us this week, so we tried without success to roust him when we passed his house.Dynamite Dick’s bound.
That’s how the day went down, from the end to the beginning. I’m happy to report it does not appear to be the beginning of the end.
A pretty nice Hash yesterday. A lot of the trail I did was unfamiliar to me, and that’s always a plus. It was challenging enough without being insanely difficult. Which is not to say I didn’t shortcut; of course I did! I was dead last amongst the early group, and when all the runners from the late group had passed me, I figured I’d best get back On-Home before all the beer was gone. If I have any regrets, they are too few to mention.
The trail as intended, with my deviation in blue.Gathering inside the VFW before the hike.And outside for last-minute instructions from the Hare.And we are On-On!We began on the backstreets of Barretto.A narrow escapeUp the stairs to the squatter’s villageIn the squatter villageA squatter’s view of Easter mountainThen down into Alta VistaOn the wide-open streets of my neighborhood. We actually walked right past my current residence.We exited the ‘hood on a path I’ve seldom traversed.The trail had some ups and downs and a creek crossing but was pleasant for the most part.Thatch grass in full blossom.A view from on highMe and these three were bringing up the rear. Not sure why I was so slow yesterday, that’s just my way I suppose.People live back here in the woods.This wouldn’t be the life for me.I’d never seen a plant like this, but one of my group said it can be used like soap.Selfie timeOur On-Home was at Blue Butterfly this week.Drink it down, down, down, down.
Some after-Hash beers at It Doesn’t Matter. Agnes greeted me with a hug. I was polite. No, I didn’t buy her a drink.
But I had another one when I got back home just for the helluva it. That’s my way.
That seems to be the way it works around these parts.
Anyway, before I go into rant mode, let me share the photos from last night’s feeding at Hideaway. After finishing my doctor’s appointment, I ordered take-out from Sit-n-Bull for the girls.
Chicken fingers…Lumpia…And lasagna, Joy’s favorite.Yum!Joy also sank her teeth into a cranberry muffin.
As usual, it was a good time, and the girls were all appreciative. The bi-weekly feeding events are something we all look forward to.
But here’s the darker side. I stopped in another bar after leaving Hideaway. One of the girls currently working there briefly participated in my “friends with benefits” program while she was unemployed during the scamdemic. She’s got three kids, including one that might be just over one year old now (she was still lactating when she was an FWB). Nice enough gal and very attractive. The problem was that I discovered she is still married. That’s not unusual, I suppose, especially since divorce is not allowed in the Philippines. But her husband was still living at home with her and the kids. Adultery is a crime in the PI, and I had no intention of going down that road. I don’t know if he knew what his wife was doing with me, but I didn’t want to be around her if and when he found out. So, I stopped seeing her and shortly thereafter ended the FWB program. We did remain Facebook friends.
She came back to work in the bar several months ago, and we renewed our “lady drink” relationship. She told me her husband was working out of town. One night she came into the bar on her night off with a foreigner. That’s pretty unusual in and of itself; most of the girls keep their non-work life out of the bar. I guess he was a tourist because he’s now back in his home country. I know this because the girl in question is posting endless threads on Facebook (with photos of their video chats), professing her endless and undying love for this man. Hell, for all I know, she might even mean it. But last night, she took her usual seat next to me in expectation of getting lady drink commissions.
At first, I was inclined just to ignore her. The were two other gals vying for my attention as well. One is new, and the other I’ve known for years. But in the end, I just decided it was none of my business. Odds are good she is scamming this guy for monthly “support” money, and honestly if he is stupid enough to send it to her, why should I care? I wouldn’t be surprised if the husband is a willing participant. Having a “rich” foreigner around helps pay the rent. Indeed, perhaps I should congratulate her. Well, I guess I sort of did when I bought her the drink she coveted. See, that’s how the game is played, and I’m getting better at it. The trick is not to get played in the process.
I also heard from Agnes for the first time since she abandoned her lady drink from me to play kissy-face with another guy in the bar. I responded to her message by asking how things were going with the boyfriend. She answered that he was “just a friend.” I said, “do you tongue-kiss all your friends in the middle of a crowded bar?” For some reason, she never responded to that question. Oh well.
I’ve got a healthy case of “I don’t give a shit anymore” now, and I’m just going to do what I want when I want with whomever I want and not even worry about it. None of this crap is real, anyway. There’s freedom in that knowledge.
Things went fine with the doctor. I got another set of nostril injections, and today I have a good reduction in congestion (I couldn’t breathe through my nose at all yesterday). I’m still dealing with my lung issues, but I fear that may be my new normal. I’m still in the game as long as I’m still breathing, and that’s how I want to keep it.
I was an HR professional for 30+ years, but I see now I was in the wrong kind of HR.
It’s another Hash Monday, so here’s hoping it’s a good day on trail. Back with a full report tomorrow.
You can't hide your lyin' eyes
And your smile is a thin disguise
I thought by now you'd realize
There ain't no way to hide your lyin' eyes
Fall has arrived in the Philippines! But around here, it ain’t the leaves that are falling off trees…
…it’s the branches!
The construction behind my house continues apace, and the noise is quite irritating. Annoising if you will. I try and time my nap from noon until 1:00 while the workers are on lunch break.
As things are taking shape, it looks like part of my view will survive. I expect I’ll be gone before the construction is finished, though.
Escaping the sounds of creation makes my morning walks all the more pleasant.
And it looks like rainy season is finally behind us.
So, about last night. I had good intentions to start the evening off with some darts practice. Then I remembered that Barretto was undergoing a scheduled brownout (power interruption) until 5 p.m. (I’m technically in San Isidro, so wasn’t impacted). I knew Johansson’s wouldn’t have a generator, so I left the darts at home and went to It Doesn’t Matter instead.
It was the first time I’d been back since the incident with Agnes, and she wasn’t there. Maybe her biker boyfriend is supporting her now. None of my business, and I certainly wouldn’t be buying her drinks again, regardless. My waitress this time was Maria, and she’d always been flirty, and after a couple of beers, I invited her to join me (I know, I know, but old habits die hard.) She brings her beer over to where I’m seated; we tap bottles, she takes a swig and says, “I’ll be back.” Maybe you’ve guessed where this is going–she never returned to finish her beer. I really don’t understand that mentality at all; the deal is she gets the commission, and I get some of her time. Ignoring a customer is a losing proposition in the long run–Maria will certainly never get a drink from me in the future. Maybe I should be thanking her for saving me the money.
When it came time for me to move on, I was craving an elevated view. I decided BarCelona would give me what I was looking for. I ordered a beer and took a seat out on the rooftop.
Off to my right, the sun was going down.And on my left, the moon was rising. It was an interesting juxtaposition as I drank my beer and pondered the mysteries of the universe.
When it was time to refresh my beer, there was no waitress to be found (I was alone on the roof). So, I went inside and noted that the girls were all congregated around the pool table. I stood at the bar and waited (the bartender was MIA as well). After a few minutes, a waitress did approach me and said what sounded like, “You should sit beside me; I don’t want to have to go all the way out there.” I gave a grumpy response along the lines of “sorry to make you do your job,” and went back to my table to wait for the beer. When she brought it, she sat down next to me, which surprised me a little. She said, “yeah, I want to be close when you need another beer; that’s why I said I would sit next to you.” Ah, I had misunderstood what she said before; okay, my bad. We had a nice chat, and I wound up buying her a drink to make up for the misunderstanding.
I had a “buy one, get one” coupon for Hot Zone, so I made that my next destination. It wasn’t busy when I arrived, so I settled back and watched the dancers as I sipped my beer. HZ does have some of the hottest girls in town on stage; I’ll grant them that. Well, except they weren’t on stage long–a group of Korean men came in and brought all but one of the dancers down for lady drinks. I think they had most of the waitresses around their table too. Ah, just like the good ol’ days–big-spending tourists spoil the girls, so locals like me don’t have to! Well done, gentlemen.
I left Hot Zone and headed down the highway toward home, but I still had an hour or so to kill. I paused at Sloppy Joe’s but decided to do Queen Victoria instead. They weren’t busy either, and I was still on my first beer when my old regular TinTin plopped down on the stool next to me. She didn’t perform with the QV group at the SOB, so I asked her about that. She said she hadn’t had time to learn the new routine yet. I responded that she should tell her new boyfriend she needs to practice. She answered, “I don’t have a boyfriend.” The Tagalog word for that is “bola bola,” which roughly translates as “bullshit.”
I offered TinTin a drink in exchange for a photo. Dental care in this country is as whacked as medical treatment. When TinTin smiles now, she is missing several upper teeth, what I call the choppers. Pulling teeth in the USA is like the last option; here, it is the go-to solution for a toothache. TinTin is just twenty-one years old. I guess someday she’ll have a bridge made, assuming she can ever afford to do so. Anyway, I wanted a picture of that toothless smile, and she wouldn’t cooperate. I bought her a drink anyway.
I will also confess that seeing that toothless grin made me wonder how good she is at blowjobs. Yeah, I’m a sick bastard.
I didn’t stay long at Queen Vic, and after exiting the building, I noted there were no trikes standing by in the usual location, so I walked a couple of blocks to the trike stand at Baloy road. And, of course, that put me out in front of Snackbar. It’s been a few weeks since my last appearance there (I hadn’t felt welcome), but my beer impairment overcame whatever grievances I was holding, and I popped in to have one more for the road. I was very surprised to see Lydell, one of my favorites from the now-defunct Kamto, working there. Last I’d seen her; she was at Adam’s Bar. And most of the other regulars did give me a hearty welcome back, so maybe those grievances were all in my head. And yes, we celebrated my return with a round of lady drinks. What can I say? I guess it’s just my nature.
Seriously, I do enjoy being generous with the girls. Makes me feel good, so it’s as much about me as it is about them. Rather than change my ways, I’m thinking avoiding the bad ones (like Agnes and Maria at IDM) is a better course of action. We’ll see how that works out for me.
Why do I find this so funny?
And that brings y’all right up to date. Feeding night a Hideaway later. I also have an appointment with Dr. Jo this afternoon. Updates on all that tomorrow.
Rules are for slaves, and I refuse to be a slave to my own rules. Yeah, that’s the ticket!
I started my SOB Friday with a stop at Cheap Charlies. I reasoned that CC is directly across the street from the SOB host, Hot Zone. I wanted to keep an eye on when the doors opened to ensure I got a good seat in a relatively small venue. My strategy worked, and I was one of the first to arrive. When the event started, every seat in the house was occupied.
I hadn’t been to Cheap Charlies in a week or two, but that didn’t prevent three of my old regulars from taking seats beside and behind me. I nursed my beer, and the girls rubbed my arms and back. I didn’t relent and buy them lady drinks, though. I was there for less than an hour, and that didn’t burden my willpower much. I did give them each a 50 peso tip when I left, which I considered payment for services rendered.
I also ignored my “regular” at Hot Zone. To be fair, she’s been ignoring me too ever since I declined to give her 2000 pesos so she could visit her kids. Rule #1 (don’t be a sucker) must not be broken! During the show, my waitress also gave me a backrub in between serving other customers. I deemed her worthy of the coveted lady drink in recognition of her efforts. In fact, I bought her three over the course of the evening.
The Aftermath gathering was at The Green Room. My ex, Marissa, is a waitress there, and she had saved me my favorite seat. That warranted a lady drink, right? And then the woman who normally handles the pool table, which was out of service during the Aftermath event, laughed at all of the jokes I told (they were all new to her). She earned a lady drink reward as well. Later, I was approached by this sweet little thing who walked up to me and introduced herself. I could barely understand her and wasn’t interested in her company, so I politely sent her away. When she joined my female Hash friend (What’s Up Doc) at her table, I was curious, so I went over to say hello. Turns out the sweet young thing is her 19-year-old niece. Yikes! Of course, I bought them both a drink but told the cutie she could stay with her Auntie.
So, did I violate my moratorium on lady drink purchases? I declare my innocence. I was not buying company or engaging in the “she really likes me” fantasies last night. I was just being polite and rewarding good behavior. There’s a difference.
My winnings for the night:
Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me next week!
The other big event yesterday was the group hike. I mentioned in another post that it had been quite a while since our last venture up to the Kalaklan ridge. So, we hiked a trail we hadn’t down since last November. There is no easy way to the top, but our path wasn’t as crazy as the notorious “Motherfucker” and “Stairway to Heaven” trails. Maybe we should henceforth call it “Better Than Those Others.” Our up took us to the Great Wall of Barretto; then, we had a leisurely stroll along the ridgeline before heading back down to our little town.
The eye in the sky documenting our path.Our gathering place next to the Savers appliance store.A small but hardy group of hikers yesterday.Hillside livingUp we goThat bridge ain’t gonna cross itself!Local hillbilliesLooking back down at Barretto beachThings were definitely on the up and upSteep it was in places. My tired old legs and lungs were feeling it.Trudging on to our target destination.Goal achievedOn the Great Wall of BarrettoThe view from here.A bay viewA little R&R on the ridgeI’m a swinger, doncha know?Walkin’ the ridgeline.A shy childAnd a ‘cock farmLocked out!We’ll climb over your silly little fence!On the road againTime to head on down. Look out for that barbed wire!Easter mountain is a long way away.It was a gradual descent–that’s the best kind!Top to bottomThe last of the downsBack on the mean streets of Barretto…Banaba street, to be precise.And Dick is there to greet us upon arrival at his place.
A very nice day on trail.
This morning brought the news that a local legend, Johnnie Tango, died after suffering a heart attack. Congratulations on a life well-lived, and may you always Rest in Peace.
This reminds me of something Johnnie would have said.
That’s a familiar face about town, Jim (aka Jimbo or Daddy Jim)
I only had a nodding acquaintance with Jim. I’d frequently see him at Sit-n-Bull and out in the bars. I first met him when he was a regular at Alley Cats, where he was known to be a big spender. My ex, Marissa, was one of his favorites there. The last time I saw him was three weeks ago in Hot Zone, where he was sharing drinks with his favorite girl. As much as Jim enjoyed drinking with the bargirls, I’m told he never took any of them home with him. Kinda like me in that regard.
Jim hung himself yesterday morning. It came as a big surprise to the folks who knew him well because he always appeared to be enjoying himself. He was 78 years old. Lately, his health seems to have been deteriorating, one of his legs was swollen, and he was using a cane. I’m speculating that once it became evident that he would no longer be able to go out and do the things he loved doing, like buying drinks for the ladies, he chose to end his life. I can actually respect that. I would not want to continue living if I were confined to my house. Although perhaps I’ll feel differently if and when that day comes.
The folks who knew Jim were devasted at his passing as he was evidently a good and generous man. Rest in Peace, Jimbo. Your suffering is over now.
And then there was this guy yesterday afternoon.
I don’t recognize him at all, but I saw the video this still was taken from. He got down on his knees in the middle of the freakin’ National Highway and apparently had some kind of mental breakdown. Somehow he managed to avoid being run over, which is a minor miracle in itself. After a few minutes, he got up and entered Dynamite Dick’s, the small bar directly in front of where he put on his crazy show. Once inside, he apparently blacked out. Someone called his wife, who used to be a waitress at Dick’s. When she woke him, he stood up and proceeded to stab her multiple times. I understand she survived that attack, and her husband was taken into custody by the police. Witnesses say the culprit wasn’t drunk, just out of his mind. Scary shit.
And in the wee hours of the morning, there was some excitement at Sloppy Joe’s
A couple of guys on a motorbike pulled up, and one of them ripped a necklace off one of the bar patrons. Someone grabbed the robber in a chokehold, and another customer subdued the one on the bike. The police were summoned, and when the culprits were searched, one of them was carrying a loaded pistol. That all could have gone so wrong. I walk past Sloppy Joe’s frequently and occasionally stop in for a beer. But I’m never out at two in the morning when the druggies are searching for victims to fund their habit.
And then there is the story about my friend Bhel’s son, James.
Two days ago, he woke up with a swollen body and running a fever. Bhel went to see my doctor here in Barretto, and she said he needed to be taken to the hospital immediately. So, Bhel took him to one of the private hospitals in Olongapo City, YMMV, or something like that. She had to wait a couple of hours to be seen. By the time a doctor there looked at him and scheduled some tests, it was too late to have the results reviewed. James was exhausted so mom took him home.
Yesterday morning, she was back, and the doctor said that based on the test results (and by now, James was having difficulty breathing), he needed to be admitted to a hospital right away. He suggested Bhel take him to Gordon, the public hospital. When she gets to Gordon, they tell her no ward space or private rooms are available, to try again tomorrow. She rightfully called bullshit and went back to YMMV. YMMV told her that her PhilHealth insurance (the national health plan in the PI) wasn’t accepted there. A hospital stay was 2100 pesos per day, plus doctor and medicine charges. Further, she would need to pay 6000 pesos in advance to have James admitted. I wired her the money.
Well, when the original doctor found out James had been admitted, he was pissed because YMMV was not equipped with the respiratory machines James required. He suggested she take him to Baypointe hospital. But when they got there, Baypointe turned out to be even more expensive, and she needed a total of 12000 pesos for admission. Well, I’m not going to let her son die over a couple of hundred bucks, so I wired more money. And then get this–Baypointe declined to admit him because he had a fever and a cough! WTF! Where are sick people supposed to go if not the hospital? And James had been specifically referred there by a doctor of medicine. So, Bhel was out of options and went back to YMMV. There it was suggested she call an ambulance from Barretto (which made no sense to me) and have him transported to the Gordon emergency room. So, that’s what they did, and Bhel says when they arrived, one of the nurses remembered James from a previous hospitalization (he has heart problems, too) and had taken a liking to him. And lo and behold, he secured a private room, and James was finally admitted twelve hours after the ordeal began.
It is very scary to think about getting seriously ill in this country. All these medical professionals are willing to sacrifice the life of a young boy over non-sensical protocols. I hope James is going to be okay now, but unless and until they find out what is wrong, he is not out of danger.
In more pleasant news, the feeding at Hideaway was a success last night.
Fried chicken, brownies, and lady drinks for Joy.
After Hideaway, I gave Mugshots a try. No bargirls there, but I did flirt with a cute bartender named Odessa. No lady drinks for her (I’m not sure they are even an option), though. I’ll have to add this bar to my rotation for sure.
I finished my night at Wet Spot, where I had a nice chat with owner Daddy Dave.
The Wednesday Walkers took a journey up, on, and over Black Rock yesterday. I love the views from up there, but it is not accessible (for me, anyway) during rainy season because the getting down part is treacherous on slippery rocks. A few straight days of sunshine seemed to be an omen that it was time to visit again.
All in, we did an 8.5K loop, finishing at Harley’s on Baloy for an after-hike lunch. It was a good day on trail!
Hmm, I see now that the “real” name of Black Rock is Mount Panagat. I like Black Rock better and hereby declare that for now and evermore, it shall and will be deemed to be Black Rock mountain. At least here on LTG.Ten in attendance for the trek.Next stop, Subic.Highway marchersThe streets of Santa Monica are much more pleasant than a traffic-congested highway.Anne and Sheila bringing up the rear.The view from a small park in the subdivision. What a minute, I recognize that mountain!Exiting Santa Monica into the adjacent subdivision, Sierra Hills.A brief jaunt on Govic highway.A high-five after a cookie delivery.Alright, let’s go to Black Rock!Let the climbing begin!Almost to the topThe view is worth the climb.Looking back towards BarrettoThe gang’s all here!That’s a quick way down. The fall doesn’t kill you; it’s the sudden stop at the end.You can see Alta Vista from up top Black Rock. I zoomed in to capture my future blue house.Time to head back down.Watch your step! It’s a steep motherfucker.At the bottom, waiting for the stragglers to arrive.Here comes one now.The heights from which we descended.On the backstreets of Calapacuan.Heading back towards our neck of the woods.A niche on the hill.Hey, I know you!Main Street Santo Tomas.Lunch at Harley’sThe view from our table.The view of our tableAnd the view of my lunch. I went with the pork chops.
You can Relive the adventure here if you’d like:
https://www.relive.cc/view/vQvxpV7WW9v
I’ll be doing another post later today about the sad and exciting times here in my little town.
I’m giving myself a break from the game of paying for bargirl company. Turns out I’m not that good a player, and I start taking the whole fantasy a little too seriously. The recent incident with Agnes was a wake-up call. She was merely playing the game to her advantage, and I took the bait. So, I’ll just concede defeat and move on. For a while, anyway.
To the extent there’s a void to be filled, I’ll explore new venues where I’m not well-known to the girls and drink alone. That’s not to say I’ll never go back to my old haunts, but I’ll be upfront about the days of plying my favorites with lady drinks being over. Okay, I’m making an exception regarding Joy at Hideaway. That’s always been a different kind of relationship, and I’ve come to enjoy the bi-weekly feeding sessions. Why should I deny myself that pleasure?
I also think that perhaps I’ll take up darts again. It’s a safe and comfortable way to pass the time and will keep me entertained without a young Filipina by my side. I will need to practice and get my game back before I play in a competitive tournament. I think Johansson’s might be the place to go–nice boards, no bargirls, and rarely crowded. Stay tuned.
So, about last night. I decided to walk to the far side of town and have some dinner at John’s place. I went up to the third-floor bar and took a seat with a view.
I watched the sun go down.And I enjoyed a fantastic pulled pork sandwich. And those fries were great too. Reminded me of the way McDonald’s fries USED to be–hot and firm.And here’s a shot of the Kalaklan ridge…been a while since we’ve hiked up there. Time to make a plan to do so!
I enjoyed a couple of beers with my meal, too. So, where to go next? I considered Mugshots but walked on by. I’m taking a break from IDM for now. Started to go to Cheap Charlies and changed my mind; not ready for those gals again either. I prefer an outdoor bar, and BarCelona was just about my last option, so that’s where I wound up.
I’ve never seen it so dead before. Usually, there are people playing pool, at least, but not last night. No one at the bar inside either. One guy seated at an outside table surrounded by bargirls–heh, me in a previous life! I sat alone at a table by the railing.
It was getting dark, but I could still see a bit of the bay between the two hotels.And a highway shot.
Even with only the big spender around, I had to get up to find someone to bring me another beer. It seems the service in BarCelona is always slow to non-existent. Too bad, really, because it is a very nice venue otherwise.
And then another customer arrived, and it turned out to be someone I’m acquainted with from the days I used to hang out at Snackbar, Marvin. Fascinating guy who regaled me with stories about his exploits as both a businessman and a treasure hunter in the Philippines. Yes, people are still looking for Yamashita’s gold, and Marvin’s a mining engineer by trade. Anyway, it was a much more satisfying conversation than I’ve ever had with a bargirl.
When it was time to go, I headed to Queen Victoria to use the last of my 500 peso voucher coupon. They also weren’t busy, but the bargirls there pretty much ignored me as well. TinTin did say hello but didn’t attempt to entice me to buy her a lady drink. Well, that’s okay. It gave me time to think about my new plan for a solitary bar life.
I’m happy to report I survived another trail by the notorious Hare, Vienna Sausage. Weirdly, the “sane” group I was with was in sync with Vienna’s thinking, and thus we were able to avoid the worst of what he had planned to put us through.
A challenging and steep climb in the beginning, which for me, is better than at the end when my energy stores are depleted. Still, this up had me huffing and puffing, and when we were finally near the top, the trail turned back DOWN the mountain. Fuck that. We looked around for an alternative route and saw a trail had been blocked off with a bamboo stick. Hmm. Easy enough to remove the blockage and continue on to the summit. And surprise, surprise, after a very short walk on the alternative path, we found ourselves back on the Hare’s marked trail. As we suspected, that downhill was just a diversion to make things harder than they needed to be.
The same thing happened a couple more times during the hike–we’d see the marked trail divert in a way we didn’t like, so we went our own way, and before long, we’d be back on the Hare’s trail again. Near the end, we found our own way back down and took an alternative route back to the On-Home at the VFW. So, it actually worked out well. We did the “best” parts of the trail and let the die-hards have their fun on the rest of it. Win-Win!
The yellow is the Hare’s path, the purple our deviations. Despite our shortcuts, we still walked most of the intended trail, albeit some of it in reverse.Gathering up at the VFW.And we are On-On!The hard climb came early.Steep it was.Once the steps gave way, the going got more challenging.Even the diagonal switchbacks were a challenge.18-Kilo Ass kept plugging away until he reached the top.Look out! That’s a Bum Burglar in the grass! A view from near the top.Hashers on grass.One of my favorite vistas.A fine day to be up in the hills.ISD had a lost look on his face, but we kept guessing right.And we had Easter mountain to guide us.So, we started downwards, and then the trail turned back up, and the old-timers said he was taking the creekbed route. Nope, not for us! We continued going straight.And I almost burst out laughing when I saw Vienna’s last-ditch effort to dissuade us. I guess he was in sync with our thinking too.One last mountain view.Our path led us down into Marian Hills.Then we circled back around, climbed to Alta Vista, and then On-Home to VFW.A gathering of Harriettes.And some Harriers.Circle up! It’s nice on ice!Our newest named Hasher, Brazilian-69. Apparently, she fessed up to having recently had one of those wax jobs “down there,” and her boyfriend is named Covid-69. May they share many happy Hashes together!It was also Brazilian-69’s birthday, so of course, we made her a cake.And Pubic Head was awarded the Hashit. Again.
After the Hash circle was concluded, some of the group moved to It Doesn’t Matter to drink a little more. As usual, I was buying lady drinks for my favorite, Agnes, and then something weird happened–she disappeared with a full bottle of beer I’d just bought her (200 pesos!) left sitting untouched. Okay, she’s a waitress, and it was busy with all us Hashers there, so I assumed she was taking care of customers. But when she didn’t return after several minutes, I knew something must be up. It was.
It turns out Agnes wasn’t performing waitress duties, or at least I’ve never had a waitress do what I observed her doing. She was standing in the middle of the crowded room with a man in motorcycle club attire. Well, standing ain’t quite the right descriptor–she was kissing him. Eh, I mean deep tongue kissing. And he had his hands all over her. I had never seen such a blatant PDA in any Barretto bar before. I still would have found it offensive if they were an old married couple. I’m surprised no one shouted, “get a room, for chrissakes!”
That’s me in the “nice on ice” shirt, and I’ve circled the “loving” couple above. No one in the crowded room seems to be bothered by their shenanigans. So, why should I have been?
I’ll tell you why. To begin, I purchased her a drink which comes with an obligation to drink it with the customer who bought it. If she wanted to go be all kissy-face with the biker dude, she should have just declined my drink offer. Or if she had said, “I’m sorry, John, but a friend of mine is here, and I need to see him.” I would have told her fine, take your beer and go. But to just disappear was extremely rude.
The other bothersome aspect for me was being so totally wrong about someone. Now, Agnes isn’t the typical bargirl. She’s 38 and has four kids. But I have enjoyed her company for several months now, and I always saw her as a hard-working mother doing the best for her kids. She told me she didn’t have a boyfriend. I don’t know if that was a lie or if I was witnessing love at first sight with this guy. There is no question those were passionate kisses, and she was an equal and willing participant, even when he was rubbing her tits. I was having a hard time believing my eyes, and I was disgusted with my failure to see the true nature of her character.
In retrospect, I don’t know why I should have been surprised. My previous IDM favorite waitress turned out to be a lesbian, unbeknownst to me. Heh, I guess I’m just easily fooled. Oh well, time to find a new favorite again.
Switching gears, I think this explains why my blog is not very popular (less than 200 daily readers this week):
Only the best and brightest read LTG! I can live with that.
And I didn’t know what to make of this ad that appeared on my Facebook newsfeed today:
It was for some “performance enhancing” tablets. But why would the algorithm target me?
Nothing much, just more of the same. Luckily, my same ain’t so bad. Long walks and cold beer, does it get any better than that?
I did a bit of a Saturday night bar crawl, including a surprise visit to Hideaway. It’s funny; showing up outside of my Wednesday/Sunday schedule threw everyone for a loop. Maybe because I snuck in through the back door, but still. I was there as a customer only; I’ll do my feeding duties tonight.
I stopped by Mugshots, the new bar in town, and had a beer outside. Traffic noise was loud but watching the passerby, especially the females, made it more enjoyable. I was surprised when the waitress brought me out a free appetizer to sample. Nice touch; I’ll be back for more soon.
Then I was off to It Doesn’t Matter. My favorite, Agnes, wasn’t working, but Maria was a fine stand-in. While I was there, I heard from my friend, Julie, who suggested we get together for dinner. Sure, why not? Let’s go to John’s place.
John has a Saturday night steak special. This New Zealand ribeye was only 695 pesos. I could only eat 300 pesos worth, though. I’m just spoiled on American beef, I suppose. This ribeye wasn’t tough; it was chewy. Also, I said I wanted it medium rare, but it seemed closer to rare than medium. The first meal I had there that was not completely satisfactory. Hey, nobody’s perfect! The boys at home enjoyed the leftovers.
Julie surprised me by repaying some money she had borrowed a couple of months ago. That’s a rare event here. Especially because she is currently between jobs, but she was insistent I take the cash. I told her by this act, she was now eligible for a future loan should the need arise. In case you are curious, I crushed on Julie at one time, but the feelings were not reciprocated. I first met her when she used to hike with the group, and now that she is unemployed, she says she intends to join us again. And Julie is not like other women I have met here: forty years old, no kids, and never worked in a bar. No wonder she doesn’t love me!
Julie went home after dinner, and I finished my night at Queen Victoria.
Some Sunday morning blueberry muffins to start my day.
And then it was time to do my SSS–solitary Sunday stroll.
It looked something like this. I made great time but wimped out at the end and took a trike back up the hill to Alta Vista.Let’s do this!The grass is high, but I’m holding on…The old goat road.Across bridge #3Entering purok 3 in San Isidro. Does any recognize that mountain in the background?I know that one–Black Rock.A bloomin’ fine day for a hike.Market street in Calapacuan.And the rest of the way back via the National Highway.
Relive it here if you would like:
https://www.relive.cc/view/vYvE3ykVyw6
Ah shit, now I’m having water pressure issues at the house again. I really need to move.
Our Friday hiking group got off the streets and into the hills for the first time in quite some time. Better yet, we took a trail that we hadn’t tried in a long time, so it all felt fresh. Of course, if we haven’t walked a particular path with any frequency, there’s usually a reason for that. Yesterday’s trek featured a tough steep climb and some muddy spots, but it was nice to get some elevation again. More on that and the photos later in this post.
Of course, it being Friday night meant spending the time at the SOB. Last night’s event was held at the Alaska Club, and the place was packed. More of a party vibe than usual, with a loud and raucous crowd enjoying the show and the free-flowing alcohol.
My hiking buddy Todd and his girlfriend Shiela shared my table, and it was nice to have some company I didn’t have to purchase for a change. Still, when Joy finished her dance routine with the Alaska team, I rewarded her with some lady drinks.
Shiela also did her first-ever blow job last night, and I’ve got a picture!
She seemed to really enjoy it, too!
I’m still waiting for the sponsor to post pictures of the contest last night, and I’ll update here when they are available. In the meantime, here’s a video of the Alaska Club performance from last week. (Scroll ahead to the 2:00 minute mark to avoid having to sit through the prep work for their routine.)
They were this week’s champions.
UPDATE: Here are the pics:
After the SOB, I attended the Aftermath gathering at Wet Spot. More drinking and more coupons to expend during the coming days. What a life, huh?
I left the bar at 10:00, which is late for me, but I made it home in one piece and apparently did nothing to embarrass myself prior to my departure. I’ll call that a win.
Well, there was one thing that happened that I’m a little embarrassed about. I got a phone message which is very rare for me, so rare in fact that I seldom check my phone. Most people contact me via Facebook messenger. Anyway, the message said:
“Hi John, good morning this is Sheryll”
Okay, well, I know a couple of gals named Sheryll and just assumed it was the one from our hiking group. So, I responded, Hello, what’s up?
The response was:
“Hi John, can we meet up sometime?”
Wait a minute! The Sheryll I was thinking of is married and would never ask me to meet her. So, now I’m trying to figure out just who in the hell I’m messaging. I couldn’t recall giving any of the random females I know my phone number; I just don’t do that. After wracking my brain for a bit, I messaged, I’m sorry, can you tell me how we met?
“Hi John, this is Sheryll, the owner of the house in Alta Vista.”
Oh, shit. My future landlord! Anyway, she didn’t seem to take offense at my Biden-like conduct. She wanted to set up a meeting to discuss the future rental agreement. So, I arranged to meet her this morning at her nearby office (she owns a construction company with her husband).
I took this photo shortly after leaving my current residence this morning. That little blue house amongst the mansions there in the distance is where I hope to make my future home.
Anyway, the meeting was just to get more details about what I want and need to have her leave furniture-wise and to reiterate some of the points we had discussed at our initial meeting. I also think she wanted to be reassured about the sincerity of my interest. I told her I hoped it would be the last house I ever lived in. Of course, it goes without saying that I plan to live as long as I can.
So, let’s do those hike pictures, shall we?
The path we took.
“
Our group shot.Heading out.Heading up.Looking back from whence we came.And then the hard climbing commenced.Rest stop.Martin plugging away.Onward and upward.And then things began to level out a bit.Through the tall thatch grass.A fixer-upper near the top, but the commute would be a killer.Scott bringing up the rear.The view from this elevation.Don’t ask me.Offloading some cookies.The landscape.A regathering of the group. No man left behind and all that jazz.It’s always amazing to me to encounter people dwelling in the middle of nowhere, and yet there are still connections. This man (on the far left) knew Scott’s gal, Honey.The view from here.This little pig ain’t ready for the market.What are you staring at?A different perspective on Easter mountain.Time to start heading back down.Are you crazy, Stuart? No, but I’mbananasA wing a whack a wing a whack…in the jungle...Happy cookie recipients.Easier going down than up, that’s for sure!The only kind of falls I want on trail.Life’s a dance!Back on the pavement at last.My end of the hike lunch from Sit-n-Bull.This accidental selfie pretty much captures the diminished cognitive awareness I suffer with increasing frequency. Let’s go, Brandon!
Welp, I’m still in the game, so I’m gonna keep on playin’ as best I can. Stick around for the next adventure!
…a month once new has now grown old. And so have I. But there is still some life to be squeezed out of each day, and here’s the juice I made with yesterday.
A beautiful start to the day as seen from the morning dog walk.Then it was time to take me for a walk. I did my standard Naugsol valley trek in record time.Leaving the ‘hood. One of my favorite vistas on this trail.No rain in the sky but plenty on the ground.See what I mean?Hello again, Easter mountain.The waterfalls are a recent addition to the Grand Canyon of Naugsol valley.The valley of which I speak. Notice all that white in the hills across the way? That’s the blooms on the thatch grass that is having a banner year.Where rivers meet as seen from bridge #4 on Sawmill road.A couple of kilometers up Sawmill road brought me to bridge #2. I crossed it.A peek into my possible future living in the blue house on the hill.Crossing the river again on bridge #1.Traipsing through downtown Santo Tomas.A final river crossing on the highway (bridge #0?)Taking the backstreets through the little village just outside the Alta Vista gates.
It was a satisfying hike on a fine morning. You can Relive it here if you’d like:
Oh, I saw this poor dog during my hike:
I doubt he’s long for this life. Covered in mange, skin and bones, and looked as sad as it made me feel when I saw him.You can’t save them all.But I saved this one. That’s Lucky on the day I brought him home four years ago.And that’s Lucky this morning. It seems that Lucky now identifies as a Human, and I don’t want to be a bigot and argue otherwise. I am not a biologist, after all.
A nap, a shower, baking some brownies for my new downstairs neighbor, and of course, some blogging. Then it was time to head into town to check in on my bar life.
The afternoon view on my way out was still quite pleasant.
I made It Doesn’t Matter my first stop and enjoyed the company of my regular waitress, Agnes. A bit later, my friend Bhel joined us. When the inevitable hunger pangs struck, I decided to give the nacho salad a try.
It was tasty enough but a little hard to eat because you really couldn’t pick up the chips with your hands (they’d break), and it was tough keeping the bulky contents on a fork. The gals went with a traditional Filipino favorite, sizzling sisig.
I had my last “buy one, get one” coupon for Hot Zone to use before it expired. So, that was the next stop for Bhel and me. The place was packed, and the music was too loud, but the dancers were all on stage during this visit. I wasn’t digging the vibe last night, so I just did one round, and we headed out.
Next stop, BarCelona. Not one of my favorites, but at least they have nice views, and it is my preferred open-air style bar. There was a pool tournament getting ready to start, and Bhel wanted to play, so I “sponsored” her (paid the 100 peso entry fee) and wished her well. Then I went back downstairs, around the corner, and into The Green Room. A couple more beers and lady drinks, then it was time to go home.
And that was my day. A nice but challenging group hike this morning (back up in the hills), and the SOB is on tap for tonight. Maybe September will go out with a bang! Not likely, but check back tomorrow just to be sure.
Tuesday is normally my “lazy” day, but I experienced a lot of ups and downs yesterday.
Started out with my third trip to immigration for my ACR (Alien Certificate of Registration) card. It took them a while fingering through stacks of cards, but at last, they found mine. One less thing to worry about as I begin planning my required departure, probably in November.
The next stop was the Royal supermarket on my weekly grocery run. The store frequently has certain items with markdown/sale pricing. For example, yesterday, they had Marie Callender frozen pot pies for 30% off. That brought the price down to $3.60 (yes, they use dollar amounts for imported goods), and I decided to buy one for old times’ sake. I’m not sure why but for some reason, I made a mental note to watch the cashier scan my pie to make sure I was getting the discount. My intuition proved correct because it rang up at the full price. I pointed out that the pie was on sale, and the cashier called the floor supervisor over. The supervisor sent the bagger to verify the price, and I engaged in some frustrated banter about scamming customers with fake discounts. Yeah, I went there, although I did remain calm and spoke in a normal voice. When the bagger came back with the correct price, the supervisor started to manually ring up the purchase, but I stopped her and said, “I don’t want it now.” It was the least I could do. In the future, I will keep all “sale” items together in my cart and watch the prices on the register to make sure I’m really getting the discount. And yes, I know I was only being ripped off for $1.50, but it is the principle of the matter.
After I got back from my Royal adventure, I headed over to Dr. Jo’s office. The appointment was for my friend Bhel’s daughter and a follow-up visit for her son (blood work). I had volunteered to pay the doctor’s fees for Bhel. I arrived a little early, so I treated myself to lunch downstairs at Angel’s Bakery.
I don’t eat here as often as I used to, but I did enjoy this roast chicken salad quite a lot.
Bhel arrived with her kids right on time, so I joined them upstairs. Dr. Jo invited me to sit in on the consultation, but I demurred, saying I was only there to pay the bill. I’m not sure what medical issues her 13-year-old daughter might be dealing with, but I do know that’s none of my business, and prefer giving the family their privacy. Dr. Jo’s husband joined me in the waiting area, and we had a nice chat. They are in the process of moving into a rental property in Alta Vista. I told him about my potential forthcoming move, and we somehow got on the subject of the UK healthcare system (he’s not impressed). I asked if he’d ever seen House, MD, and he said he had not. That surprised me, but he said medical dramas have so many inaccuracies that he’s grown weary of watching them. When the session with Dr. Jo was complete, Bhel came out with a prescription. I asked Dr. Jo how much the bill was; she said, “no charge.” I persisted, and she insisted there was nothing owed. I’m sure she was just being generous; I always paid a fee for my consultations. She’s a good woman and a good doctor with a good heart. Thanks for that! I gave Bhel 2000 pesos to fill her prescriptions, then headed back home.
Bhel sent me a photo of her drug purchases, not that I was worried about it. She’s a jobless mother just doing her best, and I respect that.
My part-time helper who lives downstairs gave birth to a daughter this week. My helper’s name is Geraldine, she goes by Inday, and her Hash moniker is Cum In My Basement. It wasn’t me, but somebody obviously did. Actually, her live-in boyfriend has assumed his fatherly responsibilities.
Congratulations! Glad the little girl came out healthy. I bought her some diapers at Royal (the baby, not Inday).
My mountain mama friend messaged me with a plea to let her perform massage services. She was especially desperate this week because her daughter has a birthday coming. Well, I’m here to help, and it turned out to be one of the best massages ever.
MM always sends pictures to show the money is being put to good use. I never doubt it; she is a good woman and a good mama.
Just before I headed out for the evening, I heard from Cathy, the adopted mother of the boy I sponsor at school in Bohol. She advised that Eithan had been promoted from a Cub Scout to a Boy Scout, and so he needed a new uniform. Sure, why not? I wired her the money she required to make the purchase.
Cathy has also proven to be trustworthy over the years.
So, with my good deeds completed for the day, I headed out to support the local bars and the girls who work in them. I started at It Doesn’t Matter and sat with my regular there, Agnes. I started feeling hungry, so I ordered a chicken burger, and Agnes went with chicken fingers. They do a good job for a bar kitchen.
I tend to like to move around some, so after the meal, I paid up and headed out. I hadn’t been to Blue Butterfly in quite a while, so I hoofed it on over there to see how my friend Tee was doing. I prefer the outside area, and as I entered, I received a warm greeting from the gals sitting around waiting for customers. One of them told me she’d go fetch Tee, so I sat down at my favorite table, expecting Tee to bring my beer. Instead, I was served by another gal who knew me, but I didn’t recall her at all. She mentioned that we had met at the old T-Rose bar, but it still didn’t ring a bell. When I confessed that I didn’t even know her name, she seemed genuinely disappointed. “I’m Jo; you really don’t remember?” Sorry. About this time, Tee came out and stood beside the table (there were only two chairs). I chatted up Tee, asked when she’d be returning to the Hash, and the usual how you been talk. Jo didn’t take the hint to leave, so I figured I’d be entertaining two gals (not that unusual). Then Tee just walked away without a word. Saw her briefly chat with the girls on the other side of the patio, then she went back inside the bar. WTF was that all about? I was down to my last swig of beer and had intended to have a second and order two lady drinks for the girls. Instead, I just paid my tab, tipped Jo, and left. I don’t have any reason to return to Blue Butterfly now.
There are always other options, and I had another “buy one, take one” coupon for Hot Zone. I was a little surprised when my friend, the door girl, didn’t follow me inside. I soon discovered why–some two-week millionaire had every single girl inside the bar surrounding him at his table. And it wasn’t just lady drinks he was buying–he had a shitload of food delivered from Sit-n-Bull as well. To their credit, a waitress would always come over to serve me when needed. I tried to have a drink sent outside to the door girl (she couldn’t come inside because there was no one available to take her place) and was told that she had one waiting for her from Mr. Rich Guy. Okay, good. Everyone was taken care of, and I could give my wallet a rest.
I chatted with owner Jay for a bit; then he went out to walk his dogs. A bit later, a group of bikers (The Mad Dogs from Angeles) came in. They took up seats around the empty dance stage with “now what?” looks on their faces. You know, I get it. The girls love the big spenders, and I’m sure it is good for the bar’s bottom line. That guy with the deep pockets spent more in the hour I was there than I might do in a month, and I’m on the generous side of the scale. Still, there were eight or nine other customers in a girly bar with no available girls. Not sure what, if anything, you can do about that.
And while all of this drama was going on, I got a message from my helper that the water pump wasn’t working. I messaged my landlord in Singapore, and he responded that he was sending a plumber. Then an hour or so later, I heard back from the helper that the next-door neighbor had inadvertently turned off my water at the meter, thinking it was his. And yes, it was the plumber who discovered this fuck up. I felt bad for having put the landlord through this unnecessary expense and hassle, but honestly, I would have never even thought to check the meter. Oh, well.
I intended Green Room to be my final destination on the night, but it was packed with pool players for league night, and I didn’t see anywhere to sit. I shrugged and moved next door to Wet Spot. Thankfully I didn’t see Marga working, and I think Aine is long gone now, but I sat at the manager’s table and chatted with a couple of folks I know. A bit later, my favorite Green Room waitress appeared and was thirsty for a lady drink. They have an arrangement between the two bars that staff can join customers in either location and still earn commissions on drinks. I actually think that’s a good arrangement for both patrons and employees. Still, it seemed a little strange to be drinking with a Green Room waitress while my Wet Spot waitress looked on. So, I erased that discomfort by buying her a drink too. Then the cute little bartender caught me giving her the eye, so I smiled and sent her a drink as well. Yeah, I might have been a little drunk at this point.
Still, it was only a little after 8:00 p.m. when I caught a trike for home. And then I proceeded to eat almost the whole half gallon of the irresistible Butterfinger ice cream I had purchased that morning. Okay, I guess I was a little drunk.
Hey, but what a day, right? Next up is my Wednesday bargirl feeding at Hideaway and whatever comes after. Join me tomorrow for a full report of the night’s events and also the photo essay from this morning’s hiking adventure in Castillejos.
Well, better than expected anyway. The rain stopped just a few minutes before we started out on a Hash trail designed with potential rain in mind. That meant the back streets of Barretto, a walk on the beach, more Barretto streets, then an exploration of Alta Vista. The hike ended at Da’Kudos on Baloy Beach.
This is what Google saw us doing from above.Shall we gather at the river? Nope, the trail starts at VFW. Let’s meet there!And we are On-On!Some narrow alleyways.And lonely pathways And then some roadwork.Where might this lead?Beach, please!It’s been a while since we’d done a Hash beach walk.The fisherman wasn’t biting.Is that a mermaid?The tallest building in town–Central Park Reef hotel.We ran out of beach and hit the highway.This is my shortcut road to Barretto from Alta Vista. In fact, I walked it on the way to the VFW.Taking the trail alongside Leech My Nuggets’ house. On the slippery streets of Alta Vista. As 18 Kilo Ass discovered the hard way. No sooner had he uttered the words “I’m glad we are not on a muddy trail” Karma stepped in and dropped him on his butt. Algae grows fast on a wet and little-traveled street. I have to be extra careful on my dog walk every morning.It’s not all that exciting walking around my own neighborhood, but it’s still better than walking the highway.We even walked past where I hope to live in the new year.And this will be my view of Easter mountain after I move.Out of Alta Vista and onto Baloy Beach Road.Off the road and onto the beach.We had a quick beer stop at McCoy’s before heading to our On-Home venue.I had to snap a photo of this example of Filipino ingenuity and creativity. The bottom section of an office chair, a kitchen sink, and an oven shelf are the only ingredients you need to make your own barbeque grill.Da’Kudos and the end of the trail.Let the drinking commence!The Gash table.Fucking Old Man and me chillaxin’ on the beach.18 Kilo Ass and Demolition Derby holding court. What’s that shit they’re standing next to?This is typical of what the recent typhoon washed up on the beaches. No surprise, it happens after every storm. Upstream, people throw their garbage in the rivers. The rivers wash it into the bay. And the wind and waves throw it on the beach. It’s a never-ending cycle, which is the wrong kind of recycling. No worries, it will eventually get raked into piles and burned. Not good for the air quality, you say? Shut up!Life goes on, and so does the Hash. We initiated a new virgin yesterday. Does she look familiar? Yep, that’s TinTin, the Queen Victoria dancer whose picture I included in my earlier SOBsequently post. Welcome to the Hash!
