Fall has arrived in the Philippines! But around here, it ain’t the leaves that are falling off trees…

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.

Escaping the sounds of creation makes my morning walks all the more pleasant.

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.

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 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.

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.

Yep, things are back to normal.

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 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.

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.

We’ll see how long I can go drinking alone.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Joy came over for a visit yesterday afternoon. It was pleasantly fulfilling. Afterward, I took her to Mango’s and treated her to the grilled pork chops. I guess she must have liked them; that’s what she wants for dinner on Sunday.

A commenter asked for the details of the relationship I have with Joy. However it might be characterized, a relationship is probably an overstatement. Joy is in her early twenties and has two young children. That’s pretty much a deal breaker for me. Don’t get me wrong; she is a very sweet and kind young woman, but as a mother, she is not free to provide me with the things I desire in a relationship. For example, I want to cuddle all night and wake up next to the woman I love. But since I’m not going to raise someone else’s kids at this late stage in my life, there is no potential future with Joy.

So, nowadays, I visit Joy at Hideaway on Wednesdays and Sundays and feed her and the girls some dinner. Joy comes to see me at my place once a month or so. I reward her for her TLC, and she goes home happy. It is what it is, nothing more, nothing less. I guess that’s an example of me being a “sweet father.”

Another commenter has noticed the propensity of moles on the faces of many Filipinas. I also observed that phenomenon when I first arrived, but I guess I’ve grown accustomed to it now. Not sure if it is a genetic thing or just that Western women are more inclined to get the moles surgically removed. I suppose they can be a little distracting, but they are not that big a deal to me.

I guess it is good to remember it is not what’s on the face that matters, but what’s in the heart.

After Joy left, I headed out to Cheap Charlies. I figured I’d have a couple of drinks and then visit Hot Zone when it opened at 6:00 to use my discount coupon. I could keep an eye on things from my vantage point at CC, but for some reason, Hot Zone failed to open at six as scheduled. So, I just said, “fuck it,” and ordered another round for my crew and me.

I hadn’t used up all of my 500 peso voucher at Alaska Club, so I stopped there on my way home. It turned out to be a little expensive. I was the only customer, and my earlier drinks had triggered my generosity mode. I gave each of the six dancers a 50 peso tip expecting nothing in return. But those sweet girls pulled down their tops to show me their tits. Made me feel like a sweet father again.

I, of course, took care of my waitress and my second favorite Joy, with lady drinks. I’ll be seeing Joy #2 tonight at Queen Victoria for the SOB–she’s one of the Alaska dancers.

I started my yesterday with a beach walk on Baloy.

I’m not sure what’s up with my Lucky dog. He’s taken to joining me in bed at night, and I’m okay with that. But he has his own way of doing it.

Fine, be that way.

I’ll leave you with this little gem:

Back tomorrow with a photo report from today’s hike and any worthy news from my SOB adventure.

It has been said that money can’t buy happiness. That may be true, but it does buy things that make me happy. Yesterday’s big purchases were a cart full of groceries and a new desk chair But it is not just material things for my own benefit that give me some feel-good moments. The mountain mama widow I provide grocery money for each week always expresses genuine gratitude, and it feels good to be making a difference in her life in some small way. Yesterday she pleaded for a little extra because her kids all had some fever/congestion thing going on. Of course, I obliged. Her thank you message included this photo:

Speaking of sick children, my friend Bhel is currently in Manila, getting her son’s heart condition reviewed at a couple of the major medical centers there. There are still some more tests to be done, but it appears he may be eligible for a program that will provide the required surgery at a significant discount. Here’s hoping things turn out that way.

I was reminded today of the project I initiated to train the woman I thought would be my caregiver here when I retired. Unbeknownst to me, she had different ideas, and next month will mark the fifth anniversary of the broken heart she gave in return for my generosity. Before I knew what was in store for me, I featured her in a post called “Pay it Forward.” In a weird kind of way, maybe that is what she wound up doing. I have no idea whether she’s still with the Englishman she dumped me for or not, but someone besides me will ultimately benefit from the training I paid for, and I guess that’s a form of charity too.

I came across another post called “Charitably speaking,” where I compare my friend in Cambodia paying to have a house built for his girl’s family and my rejection of beggars trying to nickel and dime me while interrupting me in my important work of beer drinking. Yeah, I can be a dick sometimes, too.

Of course, the lion’s share of my “good deeds” is directed towards the hardworking bargirls I encounter on a regular basis. I’m not talking about the prostitutes here; these are the girls working hard on eight to twelve-hour shifts to pay the rent. I’ve been asking around town, and it seems almost all the bars have a standard salary of 200 pesos per day. That’s the equivalent of four dollars, folks. So those lady drink commissions genuinely are a big deal in giving them the ability to make ends meet. I am sincerely glad that I’m able to help out my handful of regulars.

I had a 500 pesos voucher coupon for Alaska Club, and I put it to use last night. And now I have some more Joy in my life:

Anyway, I’ve been thinking about a name to use in conjunction with my charity projects. What do y’all think of “Sweet Father”? It’s original but has a ring of familiarity, doesn’t it?

It’s feeding night at Hideaway Bar, and I’ll be providing a large Hawaiian pizza for dinner.

And I’m sure I won’t be drinking alone tonight, but it is for a good cause!

As always, thanks for your indulgence. I’ll be back tomorrow with pics from today’s hike and maybe some from whatever tonight brings.

Well, to be fair, the sun was shining until I tried to walk. Then the rain took over. I had to abort my morning hike at 5K and catch a trike home (heh, any excuse will do, right?). Shortly after arriving, it was sunny again. Stayed that way until I headed into town sans umbrella. I didn’t want to spend my evening dripping wet, so I popped into BarCelona, the first open establishment I came to (it was still a few minutes before 4:00) to wait out the storm.

The rain eventually let up, and I continued my crosstown journey to Hideaway bar. I made a stop at Chooks to Go and picked up two roasted chickens.

Joy loved the cornbread muffins the best. She’s usually quite generous with her co-workers, but she kept three of the six muffins I brought for herself.

The chicken and brownies were popular with the other girls too. That’s what it’s all about.

After feeding the crew, I went across the highway to John’s place to feed myself. Sat up in the third-floor bar area.

After my dinner, I popped into Cheap Charlies and enjoyed Roseanne and Alma’s company while imbibing some alcoholic beverages.

Finished my evening out with a beer at Snackbar. One of the waitresses was celebrating her birthday, so she got a drink too. The person I had come to see wasn’t there even though she had invited me. That put me in a foul mood, but lesson learned.

But the sun came out this morning, and I had a pleasant dog walk.

Made myself a burrito for breakfast.

And now, it is time to prepare for another Hash Monday. Leech My Nuggets is the Hare, so I expect a challenging trail. We finish up on Baloy Beach at the Viking Resort. I’ll post the ups and downs and slips and slides tomorrow.

Thanks for stopping by!

The gathering to honor the memory of Don Bullock at IDM yesterday was thought-provoking. Lots of people we both knew were there, so it was good to see some old familiar faces. I offered the usual condolences to his widow and enjoyed seeing his children looking healthy and happy as they might be under the circumstances. It’s cliche to say “life goes on,” I suppose, but for those in attendance, that seemed to be the modus operandi. What else are you going to do? Don ain’t coming back, and we are still here doing what he’d be doing if he was alive. Cheers to a life well lived and to the friends you left behind!

I guess maybe it is my selfish nature to use the occasion of someone’s death to think of my own inevitable passing. Not so much about the when and how; ultimately, it doesn’t matter if I go from COPD, crossing the National highway, or being fucked to death by a sexy Filipina. Obviously, I’m in no hurry to reach that final destination, but the day comes for all of us. I guess what’s been on my mind is the feeling that my death won’t matter because I’m not an important part of anyone’s life. Sure, I have my kids, but I’ve not seen them for three years and rarely even hear from them these days. They are living their lives, and I’m not part of that. That’s fine; after all, this is the life I’ve chosen to spend on the other side of the world. I’m sure the people I know here would be sorry to see me go, but I wouldn’t be leaving any voids to fill either. And that’s okay, too.

I just wonder why that is. If no one is close to me, it must be my fault for not allowing them more than peripheral access to the person that I am. Or maybe they’re not trying hard enough to know me. Or both. It really doesn’t matter. I’ll continue on with my lonely journey, and perhaps one day, I’ll encounter a fellow traveler to join me. If not, then at least no one will have the power to hurt me again.

Enough of this mental masturbation. Life is what it is, we make the best of it until it is gone, and then we no longer have to worry about whether or not we are doing it right.

There are traditions that must be honored, like feeding the hungry. Tonight the Hideaway girls will be enjoying roast chicken from Chooks to Go. I baked up some cornbread muffins to add substance to the meal.

Yeah, I guess the Hideaway girls will miss me if and when I’m gone.

Oh, please help me,
oh, please help me,
I'm livin' by myself.
I need someone to comfort me,
I need someone to tell.

I'm sorry for
the things I've done,
I've shamed myself with lies,
But soon these things
are overcome
And can't be recognized.

I left my love
with ribbons on
And water in her eyes.
I took from her
the love I'd won
And turned it to the sky.

I'm sorry for
the things I've done,
I've shamed myself with lies,
My cruelty has punctured me
And now I'm running dry.

The Green Room was packed for last night’s SOB competition. It’s a nice bar but not the best venue for a dance contest. Without an actual stage, if you aren’t seated upfront, you are going to have an obstructed view. I got there early and secured what I thought was the best table in the house for watching the dancers. Then a combination of late arrivals and the GRO employees all gathered around in front of the tables. It got a little frustrating at times, but the girls at least were squatting lower so as not to obstruct the view so much.

There was a large group surrounding the table next to mine. Not sure if they were expats or tourists, but they were spending like two-week millionaires. They had a bunch of the bargirls in their company and bought multiple shots of tequila and several rounds of lady drinks for them. I know this because their “dates” used my table as a drink holder. No big deal. They also threw three or four buckets of balls (at 300 pesos each) to see the girls scrambling on the floor to gather them up (I understand they get 10 pesos for each ball they collect). The guys were drinking Red Horse, a popular local brew not served in the Green Room. At first, I thought, why is the bar allowing outside beverages? Then I realized that with the kind of dough these dudes were dropping, it was prudent to ignore. It also dawned on me that your drinks are free during the SOB, so a customer bringing in their own beer actually saves the bar money.

Anyway, it looked like they were all having fun, so who am I to complain? I kept my old man grumpiness to myself.

(the photos above are courtesy of the event host)

I also attended the Aftermath event next door at Wet Spot. That kept me up well past my bedtime–I didn’t get home until almost 10:30! But now I’ve got a pocket full of discount coupons to use up this week. We’ll see how much those discounts wind up costing me.

Saw this today, and it gave me a chuckle:

My other “big event” yesterday was the Friday group hike. Five of us turned up, and it fell on me to lead the way. I took some mostly familiar trails, including a goodly portion of My Bitch, two climbs, and 6K or so. My fellow hikers seemed to enjoy it, so there’s that.

Here are a few photos from the trek:

So, that was my yesterday. Today there will be a memorial for the recently deceased Don Bullock at IDM that I plan to attend. Not sure what else the night holds in store for me, but I’m sure I’ll have something to say about that tomorrow. Assuming I survive.

Glad you asked! I’m from Vaxxy nation. Fully, of course.

Yes, I got my second dose of Sinovac yesterday afternoon. That’s as vaccinated as I’m going to get. The booster isn’t due for three months, and I will need to travel before then. If the Philippines government is to be believed, I will just need a PCR test before flying back if I don’t have the booster. That’s all I can do, so I’ll get on with the business of planning my trip. My first choice is Cambodia, but I’ll need to check flight availability. I prefer flying out of Clark in Angeles rather than making the journey to Manila. So, we’ll see. Lots of options in this big ol’ world.

I’m not feeling any real side effects from this second dose, just a little sore in the shoulder where they jabbed me. The person who gave me the shot said something that sounded like “…drink alcohol for three days,” so I got started on that last night.

I didn’t drink on an empty stomach, though. I invited Joy and her co-worker friend Jen to join me for a pork belly dinner at a relatively new place in town.

The girls walked home after dinner, and I went with them as far as It Doesn’t Matter. There was no one there I really knew, so I only stayed for a couple of drinks. I had gotten a message from Lydell, who used to work at the now-closed Kamto, letting me know she was now employed at Adam’s bar. I decided to pay her a visit.

When I arrived, Lydell was busy doing some paperwork. I guess that’s her job, keeping track of who’s earned what lady drink commissions. I did get a chance to buy her a drink, and we chatted some. She just started the new job yesterday, but she says she is enjoying it so far. I’m glad she landed on her feet.

I probably need to do an update of my review of Adam’s. Last night I took note of the multitude of attractive ladies on staff, but talking to the ones right next to me was almost impossible because of the loud blaring music they were playing. Good songs, just way too much volume. I likely would have stayed longer last night but for that, and with so many other options available, it will be a negative factor should I consider a return visit.

I finished up at Queen Victoria since it was just across the street. The bartender told me a Ray’s gay band was playing later, but I wasn’t in the mood for live music either. In fact, I wasn’t in the mood for anything except going home to bed. I blame the vaxx. Maybe the vaxx caused that bad pun for reggae too.

Oh, well. Today’s another day, and I’ll be SOBing at The Green Room later this afternoon.