This is about as real as it gets around here I suppose. But I think sometimes it’s all a matter of perspective. On my morning walk today I passed by an old woman rocking on her porch. That was probably the best part of her day. It made me realize my life is maybe not as boring as I make it out to be. Later in my walk, I saw a foreigner out in front of his local-style hovel. He was also on crutches and when I looked closer I saw that he’d had a leg amputated at the knee. So here he is living a poor life amongst poor people and doing it with a significant handicap. Damn. Next time I complain about my lot in life will someone please slap me upside the head? Thanks!
I was back at Alley Cats last night for the darts tourney. One of the new girls there, Jez I think her name is, has taken an interest in the game. I’ve noticed when she is not busy with customers she practices throwing. And during the tourneys, I’ve seen her watching the games intently appearing to want to learn how to improve. So last night I paid her entry fee so she could participate in the tournament. The best way to get better is to play in a competitive environment. And in the category of no good deed goes unpunished, I drew her as a partner. Well, I don’t mean that in a serious way. Sometimes you get a skilled partner, sometimes you get someone inexperienced. I think the better players owe it to the beginners to be patient and helpful. So, I did my best to provide some coaching along the way. It was no surprise we didn’t make it to the money round, but we did win a couple of matches. Jez had some good throws but needs to work on consistency. Don’t we all.
I’ve got a singles league match scheduled this afternoon and hopefully, I’ll play well enough to win. I will report on that tomorrow.
And then there is Mary. I thought I’d rid myself of her “with a bang”. Well, Thursday she shows up at my house unannounced. That pissed me off and I told her how rude and unacceptable I found her behavior. I asked why she wasn’t in Manila and she told me she was leaving Friday and “wanted to see me” before she left. I wished her good luck and sent her away. Then yesterday she sends me a message saying she wants to see me. I’m like WTF? She’s supposed to be in Manila. I responded, “Sorry, I’m busy”. And then this morning my phone is blowing up with messages and calls. I never answer her calls, but the messages said “help me, I’m hungry”. According to Mary, she is in Manila now but someone stole all her money while she was riding in the Jeepney. She begged and pleaded with me to help her.
Well, I wasn’t born yesterday and this sure did smell like a scam. I told her to send me a picture from Manila. She sent something that was inside some type of non-descript shop. I said that’s not Manila. Then she sent a photo of people standing on the street. Except it looked posed and taken professionally. Well, I’m a soft touch I guess. I sent her $25 via Western Union and told her to never contact me again.
And oh, I had to have the name on her ID to wire her money. She’s not Mary. She’s not Mae (a Facebook name she used in the past with me). She’s not Baliwag Kamo, the name she is using on Facebook now. Turns out her real name is Ruhama Alcober. Anyway, once she picked up the money she deleted all of her begging messages. So yeah, I’m totally convinced now that she is just another lying scammer. I’ve blocked her on Facebook and Messenger now. Good riddance!
Alright, let’s move on to something more pleasant, shall we? About that morning stroll today, I did the every 1000 step photo thing again. So here you go:
1000 steps. National highway entering Subic…2000 steps. A squatter village.3000 steps. Where there is smoke there is fire.4000 steps. Poor village, rich views.5000 steps. GOVIC highway.6000 steps. Easter mountain looms large.7000 steps. The straight and narrow.8000 steps. It really gets my goat when there is nothing interesting to photograph at the appointed step count.9000 steps. The wide-open spaces beckon.10,000 steps. Swallowed by the tall grass…11,000 steps. The outskirts of civilization.12,000 steps. The final climb begins.13,000 steps. An Alta Vista view.And then home again. I have a new office chair being delivered today.One of the Facebook commenters said I looked like Tom Selleck in the selfie posted above. I told him not anymore but I used to hear that all the time. That’s me at 25 years old.
And finally, via Facebook memories, I’m reminded that I was also doing important shit three years ago.
If meeting with the Secretary of the Army is important. Honestly, I enjoyed today’s walk more.
And the road goes ever onward until the ultimate dead end. Hopefully, I will still be around tomorrow!
When I have ceased to break my wings Against the faultiness of things, And learned that compromises wait Behind each hardly opened gate, When I have looked Life in the eyes, Grown calm and very coldly wise, Life will have given me the Truth, And taken in exchange–my youth. –Sara Teasdale
Greetings faithful readers! Sorry for not posting yesterday, but the time just got away from me. Here’s a recap:
As usual, I was up before 5 a.m. That’s when I do my daily slog through my blogroll catching up on the news and views from voices I trust. This has gotten to be quite the chore of late because the news from my homeland is depressingly bad. It made me sick that the voters chose a senile old fool over a competent yet clownish incumbent. That the election was apparently rife with fraud is downright scary and demonstrates that the swamp creatures have no intention of letting the people have their say. So much for democracy. The icing on the shit cake was the Georgia Senate results. Just thinking about the adverse impact Dem control of Congress and the Presidency will have on our nation’s future is the stuff of nightmares. Bottom line–we are screwed. I’m thankful that I’m so far away and don’t have to experience this fiasco up close and personal. I do expect a wrecked economy will cause the dollar to lose exchange value making me a poorer man. I probably won’t live long enough to experience the worst of what is in store for my homeland.
But life, such as it is, goes on. Did my morning routines, fed and walked the dogs, then met up with my Friday walking group. We did a pleasant mostly urban and flat 8K hike. Finished at my house where I treated the guys to a lunch of beers, chicken nuggets, calamari rings, with chips and dip.
When we were done with that I barely had time for a shower before heading out to Queen Victoria for a Hash mismanagement meeting. The agenda included appointing folks to positions of responsibility. Demolition Derby was unanimously chosen to continue serving as Grand Master. I was selected to be the Circle Jerk Master. That’s basically a Sergeant-at-Arms type role, mainly helping to maintain order in the Hash circle by telling people to shut up and pay attention. Seems like my being an asshole made me qualified for the job.
There’s been a bit of controversy at the Hash from a few disgruntled members not satisfied with the way things are being run. Boo fucking hoo is my attitude towards these whiners who were still hiding in their basement afraid of COVID while the rest of us worked to resurrect the Hash under difficult circumstances. So I don’t give a shit if they don’t like the decisions we made to make that happen. We raised the entry prices and now the Gash (females) pay the same amount as men. Well, so what? Most of them drink as much as the men do too. We also changed the start time because of an early curfew. The disgruntled few wanted a return to the traditional 3:30 start. I was opposed to this because I think the earlier start works better. It’s no fun to still be up on the mountain when the sun is starting to set. Anyway, we voted to implement a compromise start time of 2:30 p.m. We’ll see how that works out.
Had a few beers during the meeting, then moved over to Alley Cats to play in the dart tournament. Of course, I was early so I had some more beer while waiting to play. And then of course I drank while playing (I call it aiming fluid). It was a good tourney and I was satisfied with my play overall even though my partner and I lost a tough match in the finals and settled for second place.
Needless to say, I was feeling no pain when I got back home last night. But today is a brand new start, right? Stopped at a hotel called Papagayo for breakfast. I was last there years ago for a dinner so wasn’t sure what to expect. I thought the menu was a little limited in offerings, but the service was good. And nice views from my table as well.
My view during breakfast…A view of my breakfast. Well, what’s left of it.
Here are the photos from yesterday’s hike. These are mostly from Scott:
One climb, mostly steps. A loop around Black Rock mountain and ending up in Alta Vista.My fellow hikers for the morning, Dan, Troy, and Scott.Up we go!As usual, Troy is waiting for us oldsters to catch up.Working on it…I hope daddy shared those cookies with the kids…Getting back to my roots…Coming to Jesus who was hanging around…We decided to cross this field…looks easy enough…And there was kinda sorta a path. Until there wasn’t. And then it got wet.Our shoes all came out looking like this…This kind woman graciously helped us rinse the mud off……couldn’t get her little girl to smile though. I guess she was expecting Oreo’s…Back on solid ground with cleaner feet…I don’t want to romanticize litter, but this seemed kind of sweet to me…The best view of the day.
All right, I do try and avoid politics on social media. Nothing to be gained from it. But I couldn’t help sharing this meme pointing out the hypocrisy of the left regarding “protests”:
And of course, it caused liberal heads to explode.
Here’s an example from ex-wife #3:
You don’t know the difference between protests and insurrection? Well the former seeks change(s) in the law. The latter seeks to change the government.
To which I responded:
Yes, I know the difference. Do you know the difference between protests and riots? Do you know the meaning of the word hypocrisy? Where was your outrage when the Federal courthouse in Portland was being attacked? Where were your posts decrying the violence and destruction in Minneapolis, Seattle, and other cities last year? Make no mistake, I am equally disgusted by what happened at the Capitol this week. Once you engage in violent criminal activities in support of your cause, whatever that cause may be, you are no longer a protester. Rioters on the left or right are no different and are unworthy of support or sympathy if we are to remain a nation of laws. This post merely pointed out that people like you encouraged the rioters through silence and now are suddenly appalled by the same tactics being used by people you don’t agree with. Disgusting.
And of course, the ex immediately saw how wrong she had been and is now a committed Republican. Well, actually she doubled down, proving my point that these arguments or not going to ever lead to a meeting of the minds. Another commenter did chime in with this in response to the whole “insurrection” argument:
The right to overthrow the government is a right of the people. As of late, some people may feel that it is a course that needs to be taken. A fair bit of the population feels disenfranchised.
Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, –That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. -Declaration of Independence, July 4th 1776
Hard to argue with that, so I’ll just leave it there.
Let’s cleanse the palate with this:
It snot bad. I need to order one!
Alright, one more for the road:
Best I stay single, for a lot of reasons…
More darts on tap for tonight. I’m starting to feel at least some of my game is coming back. I wore my old Columbia Singles League jersey for my Barretto Singles League match this week and came away with a 12-4 victory.
Reliving the good old days. Such as they were.
Okay, this post may not be twice as good as usual, but it is twice as long. Hope that makes up for yesterday’s absence.
I’ll be back with more of something or other tomorrow.
UPDATE: I was surprised to see I used the “Mourning in America” title once before, back in September 2010. That post consisted of a link to this one-minute long anti-Obama commercial. I said back then that it made me almost dread my decision to move back to the USA. Well, maybe we’ll get through this too.
A challenging hike yesterday was made all the more difficult when we missed the intended trail, but it all worked out in the end. You might say we were blessed to find our way through a hellish landscape and received our reward of heavenly views from above. Or maybe that is so convoluted and strained that only I would say it. I’ll shut up and let the pictures talk, how’s that?
The way we went. Actually, the starting point was at the Ocean View resort in Kalaklan and I walked there adding another 3K to my hike.Although I had been up on this mountain before, the ascent we chose was new to me.Could this be the proverbial stairway to heaven?Sweet mother of Jesus, who is that? Oh, wait, sorry Mary. I guess I just answered my own question.Jesus Christo! What are you doing here?No one volunteers to be crucified though.
This was also a dead end. We went in search of our intended path, found a likely contender, and then we struggled and suffered for our arrogance. It was steep and rugged and the footing was poor. A bad combination. A couple of falls but no injuries. Praise the Lord!
Fighting to keep your feet is not conducive to photography, but there were several spots where a helping hand saved the day.Hallelujah! I made it to the top!The survivors.There are worse places than Olongapo, but that doesn’t stop me from looking down on it.As seen by the angels.Time to make our way down. And we didn’t lose the trail either…Heading for the blue waters of Subic Bay.And handing out cookies along the way.And keeping with our theme of righteousness, that would be Easter mountain rising up in the distance.If you say so, Gina…And that concludes this religious post.
At least, that’s what it felt like. Bending over to pick up my shorts yesterday morning and felt this sharp pain in my lower back. Not sure what I did or what I injured, but damn, it periodically hurts like a motherfucker. Never experienced anything quite like it. I’m stiff when I first stand up, but after I walk a bit I’m practically pain-free. That’s a good thing. But last night when I was trying to sleep I’d suffer immense pain whenever I rolled over to the left. Same stabbing pain when I tried to get up to pee. It seems marginally better today so I’m hoping whatever this is is running its course. We’ll see.
Changed things up a bit yesterday and started my evening out on Baloy beach. Visited my old-time favorite Treasure Island first. I was disappointed that they didn’t have my preferred beer and frankly the service was sloppy and unfriendly. I decided to eat elsewhere. I also noticed that all my old favorites on staff are now gone. Oh well. I went next door to Da Kudos instead.
Da Kudos is owned by Mango’s and I actually knew my waitress. The menu was also the same as Mango’s, so I ordered up the roast chicken salad. It didn’t disappoint. And neither did the view from my table:
Not bad, eh?
After my meal, I walked out on the beach and this is what I saw:
I may be living a lonely life, but at least I’m living it in paradise.
I guess I got to thinking about that being alone thing. And after a few beers I posted this question on Facebook:
Am I an asshole?
That’s probably not the kind of question that is best posed on social media. But I was just curious why a guy like me found himself dining and drinking alone. Maybe I am an asshole or something similar that people prefer to avoid. The responses to my question came in about 50-50, so maybe there’s hope. I did have to laugh at this response from ex-wife #3:
Well you use to revel in your self-identification as an dick. You were delighted when the Team America movie made an argument for dicks, saying pussies needed them for protection against assholes. So no you are not an asshole. You’re a dick.
Heh. Here’s the clip she was referring to:
Damn, that being drunk in the bar fits too!
My pal Jeremy offered up probably the most thoughtful and heartfelt comment:
John, if you’re not making your intentions known, then all that people are going to see is that youre just the nice old guy. How will anyone expect that you’re looking for something more if you’re not telling them that you’re looking for something more?
Also, dont be the nice, generous guy to everyone. That should be reserved for the people that have a special place in your heart. The rest of the people should be content with friendly, easygoing John. Then, people will take notice of your intentions, and only when that happens will there be the possibility of reciprocation.
Though, before any of that happens, you have to decide if you’re going to buy a ticket. Sure, you’re going to have a lot of losing tickets, but when you hit the jackpot, it’ll all have been worth it. I mean, that’s what my Dad tells me about he lottery, anyway, but I dont think those are his views on love after fifty years of marriage, especially when considering my mom.
You’re a smart guy, John. Not only do you have to periodically examine yourself, but you must always examine the company that you keep. I hope that it works out the way that you want according to whichever way you decide.
Hmm, I’ve heard that advice about changing the company I keep somewhere before. That’s probably the bottom line; if I am indeed an asshole I need to find an asshole-lover to share my life. And until I do I’m better off alone, whether I like it or not.
Anyway, I’ll be alright. It’s my nature to never be satisfied with what I have until it’s gone. Might be time to just suck it up and embrace things as they are and stop lamenting my missed opportunities. Scary that a man my age is still trying to figure that out.
As long as we are peripherally talking about my indiscretions on Facebook, this might be pertinent:
That cracked me up.
And as a victim of the Facebook “fact-check” process, I liked this one too:
Ain’t it the truth?
Ah well, enough of this nonsense. I’m going to head out for another night of drinking alone. Hey, it’s what I do!
Welcome to the first Hash Monday early morning post of 2021! And for the first time this year I’ve got even less to report than usual. That won’t stop me though!
Speaking of the Hash, I won’t be doing the trail today. It begins with an uncomfortable ride in the Hashmobile and involves a climb up a mountain in an unfamiliar area. And oh yeah, Vienna Sausage (Guenter) is the Hare. Nope, not taking my chances! Several other like-minded folks will be joining me on a more safe and sane alternative trail.
What else is going on? Hmm, well I do get a weekly report on visitors here at LTG. Here’s a sample from the past week:
The green bar is page views, the blue unique visits, and the orange first time visits. I’m no statistician, but the fact that my numbers are pretty constant must mean that the first time visitors are mostly final time visitors as well.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like the numbers matter to me. When I first started the blog my intent was to use it as a vehicle to keep family and friends back home up to date on the happenings in my life. These days I rarely if ever hear from most of my family. I won’t deny that it hurts to be ghosted but I do appreciate the honesty–at least they aren’t pretending to care.
I also used to be a lot more political here but I eventually came to understand that others were making the same arguments better than I can and more importantly, no one’s mind was likely to be changed by anything I posted on my humble blog. So now LTG has devolved into what resembles a personal diary. I don’t even link to it from my other social media accounts–there’s a kind of freedom in writing what is unlikely to ever be read. Of course, I do have my core readers and commenters and I always appreciate the feedback and advice they provide. So, I am humbled and honored if a hundred people or so a day pop in for peek at my so-called life. I hope to prove the old adage that no man is totally worthless–he can always serve as a bad example!
Speaking of blogs and bloggers, the Big Hominid is a daily read for me. Always something interesting going on over there. Today he shared a collection of memes and this one brought back a twisted memory for me:
Jan-Michael Vincent is the only celebrity I’ve ever met in an up close and personal way. I wrote about that encounter here.
I don’t do drugs these days of course. How does that old saw go? I couldn’t kick drugs until I became an alcoholic. Or something like that. Of course, drinking brings it’s own kind of dangers, especially here in the Philippines.
Across that ramshackle plywood bridge lies the entrance to my darts bar, Alley Cats.
They’ve been working on the new drainage canal here in Barretto for going on two years now. The safety of residents and passersby must not be in the contract. There is an even more rickety crossing to get into Cheap Charlies. Of course, leaving after several beers is the REAL dangerous part. Oh well, we’ve all got to die of something I suppose. Being impaled on rebar in a ditch is at least a rather unique way to go.
And now for an update on my love life: I ain’t got one. But two of my futile attempts in 2020 still come to mind on occasion. Arlene likes to post about her new love on Facebook. Nothing wrong with that of course. But today she posted a picture that made me go “hmm”. She was very excited about “her” new house. The photo looked a lot like the one she had shown me that her now ex-boyfriend in Canada was having built. And since foreigners can’t own property here, it was being purchased in Arlene’s name. Even after she had professed her love for me, she wouldn’t end it with the Canadian because of the house. Now, I don’t know the current circumstances and it’s none of my business. Maybe the new boyfriend stepped up and bought the house for her. Or maybe she just did what a lot of Filipinas have been known to do–my name, my house. As stupid as I was for falling in love with someone who wouldn’t end an existing relationship, I’d have to say I’m one lucky bastard!
And then there’s Jessa. I mentioned sharing some drinks with her on New Year’s Eve. During our conversation that night she told me her daughter’s birthday was coming on January 6. She was hoping to find a location to have a pool party for her. I mentioned the Alta Vista community center would be a nice venue and promised to check on its availability. I did and it is. I’m even going to pay for it as a birthday gift. Jessa seemed pleasantly surprised. She’s a nice woman and I did and do care for her. When we were dating she also had an overseas boyfriend. But unlike Arlene, she did choose to end that relationship of her own volition. The problem was she expected me to become the new him. I wanted to continue dating and see how I felt before making a commitment. That was unacceptable to her and she ended it then and there. At least I guess we are still friends of a sort, so there’s that.
Words I will carry with me in 2021. Actually, I’m unlikely to need them because I’m still firmly in the “done with love” mode.
And one last tidbit of an update. Mary came by the house. It seems she has taken some sort of job in Manila. And of course, she needed transportation and rent money to get started. She was willing to earn it and to her credit, her performance was much improved since our last hookup. I still, however, have no interest in seeing her again. Helping her to get to Manila ensures she won’t be showing up on my doorstep anytime soon. I hope.
Alright, well this turned out to be a whole lot of nothin’, didn’t it? I’ll try to do better in the future. Call it a resolution!
“Human beings are remarkable – at what we can learn to live with. If we couldn’t get strong from what we lose, and what we miss, and what we want and can’t have, then we couldn’t ever get strong enough, could we? What else makes us strong?” –John Irving
So much for the first day of the rest of my life, or at least 2021. Felt like shit most of the day and other than a 7K walk around Castillejos I didn’t do shit either.
Ten years ago I retired and moved to Columbia, South Carolina to start a new life. Regular readers know how that turned out. Let’s just say it didn’t end well. Then again, it led me to this moment in time so perhaps it was destiny.
Three years ago I completed my first ever Hash run and got initiated into the Kennel.
Fixin’ to lose my virginity. The gal to my left, Gem, turned out to be a scammer. Big disappointment for sure. I hope she enjoys the Karma I paid for…Drink it down, down, down, down! As we say at the Hash, the beer-guzzling ritual is just like a blowjob because what doesn’t go in you, goes on you!
Speaking of the Hash, Scott (Pubic Head) did a photo collage of me doing my candy and cookies thing:
It’s a small thing that gives me big pleasure, as selfish as that sounds.
Speaking of Scott, he took a couple of photos on our hike yesterday morning:
I was moving slower than usual. Way too much beer and not enough sleep the night before will do that I suppose.At least I’m not this guy. Yet.This is the house of former President of the Philippines, Ramon Magsaysay. It’s a museum now. It inspired me to read his story and it is really quite interesting.
And as long as we are taking a historical detour, I bet you didn’t know that Texas was once called New Philippines. I sure didn’t. It’s good to learn something new, especially when you are an old dog like me.
Speaking of something new, I made meatballs in the slow cooker yesterday. Nothing new about that, but I tried a different recipe. Instead of cooking them in a spaghetti sauce base, I used barbeque sauce and, wait for it, grape jelly. I read about that somewhere online and thought to myself “no way”, but on a whim, I figured why not try it?
How they looked in the pot……and in my bowl.
I feared they were going to come out sickly sweet but that was not the case. They had an unusual tangy flavor but it wasn’t an unpleasant taste. I think I prefer the traditional tomato sauce but might go this route occasionally just to change things up some.
Late in the afternoon, I had Vels come by to give me a massage. It was the second time I’ve used her. She does a really nice job and gives a thorough two-hour rubdown. Well, she did miss a spot. She’s an older woman, mid to late 40s I reckon, but not unattractive. She ignored my hints about a happy ending and I didn’t press the issue. I did feel better physically when she finished the massage, so there’s that.
It was after six when Vels left and I decided to fuck off and stay home. I think that’s the first time in just about forever that I voluntarily didn’t go out for some evening beers. Now that I think about it, I haven’t had a beer since last year!
Alright then, let’s see what’s coming next!
I can’t walk through life facing backwards I have tried I tried more than once to just make sure And I was denied the future I’d been searching for But I spun around and hurt no more By living in the moment Living my life Easy and breezy With peace in my mind With peace in my heart Got peace in my soul Wherever I’m going, I’m already home
Not gonna miss that bitch 2020! I did make the best of the final day of that ill-fated year. Had a pleasant breakfast at a place I rarely visit–Harley’s.
It’s one of the first hotels you come to as you walk down Baloy beach road.The view from my table…And another view…Seeing as how it was the end of the year I decided I deserved to splurge on the carbs. I ordered up the Swedish pancakes. They are like regular flapjacks except super thin. They are served folded in half, I guess to give them some substance. Tasted fine though.
As a New Year’s Eve treat, I decided to document my daily walk using the “every 1000 steps, snap a photo” technique. Here’s how that came out:
It started with a morning time full moon…Nothing really interesting to see at 1000 steps so I took this shot.I’m still in Alta Vista at 2000 steps (walking the dogs) and this dwelling was the best photo op. It’s a bit of an aberration given its ramshackle appearance in a neighborhood full of McMansion-type houses. I’m guessing it predates the subdivision and somehow survived. Until a couple of months ago one of the security guards lived there with his family. Vacant now though. Maybe I should become a squatter?On my way to breakfast when I hit 3000 steps in front of the squatter village right outside the main gate of Alta Vista.The best I could find at 4000 steps was this palm tree on Baloy road near Harley’s.That’s the ass side of my shack at 5000 steps.An Alta Vista view at 6000 steps.The path I didn’t take at 7000 steps. I’ll save it for another day.The path I’m on at 8000.I said hello to Easter mountain at 9000.10,000 found me down in the valley, the valley so low…Crossed this bridge at 11,000.Sawmill Road at 12,000.Entering Purok 3 of Barangay San Isidro at 13,000. (a purok is a neighborhood, a barangay is a district within a city.)On the Govic highway at 14,000.The entrance to the Sierra Hills subdivision at 15,000. It’s the first time the gate has been open in months so I ventured in. The lady sweeping asked where I was going and I told her I was just passing through. She shrugged and said okay.On the mean streets of the Santa Monica subdivision at 16,000.17,000 steps brought me to the National highway.I passed through this small village near my house at 18,000And then I was home again at just shy of 19,000. That’s my helper Gina hanging out the laundry. Heh, I started my walking with a full moon and ended it with one…
So, I spent the next few hours doing my normal routines–blogging, napping, interneting, showering. And then it was time to hit the bars and celebrate the pending new year. My plan was to have one drink and buy one lady drink in each bar until I could go no more. I figured I’d be out of it by 9 p.m. at the latest. Nothing ever goes as planned it seems. First of all, I was downright shocked to discover about half the bars were closed. Why would you close a BAR on one of the biggest drinking nights of the year? As it turns out, with just a couple of exceptions, the bars that were open were dead. Go figure. So I wound up visiting fewer places and staying a little longer in them than I originally intended.
My first stop of the day was an old favorite, Alaska Club. It was the first bar I visited in the Philippines, back when it was in Angeles City. The door girl above escorted me inside so I had her join me for a drink. I was the only customer. There was something kinda-sorta familiar about the door girl. And then she reminded me. I had barfined her sometime last year and she gave me a massage with a happy ending. Ah yeah, now I remember! Anyway, I’ve got her number now and may give her a shot at filling the masseuse vacancy.Next up was Hot Zone. These two were the only ones on stage so I brought them both down for a drink. The one next to me was the touchy-feely type, but the night was young. I had two beers here and headed on down the street.I’d never been in bottoms up before and I’m unlikely to ever go back. Just a really depressing vibe for me. One other customer inside.My drinking companion in Bottoms Up. Already forgotten her name. A waitress came up and asked me if I remembered her. I didn’t. She told me she used to be my waitress at Treasure Island and specifically mentioned the Hash events we held there. Still didn’t remember her though. Oh well.
There were a couple more bars on this end of town I had planned to visit but they were closed. Except for Dive In, a bar I don’t particularly like. I used to date the bartender there though so I went inside and bought her some drinks.
Yep, that’s Jessa. Still not sure what happened between us. Just some disconnect. Well, it might be that she wanted more than I was prepared to risk. Anyway, I was the only customer. I stayed for three drinks and when I left the bar closed.That damn full moon kept on stalking me.Popped into Cheap Charlies and shared drinks with a couple of my regulars there.Next up was Wet Spot. I appear to be slightly intoxicated at this point. That’s Catherine, the neighbor gal who is always pestering me for rent and/or food money. Last night she got a lady drink. Today I’m back to ignoring her messages.I intended for Queen Vic to be my final stop for the night (it’s the last bar on my way home). And then Will (a fellow Hasher) showed up and started buying me beers. Queen Victoria’s manager announced they were closing at 10 p.m. so we finished our beers. Will was going to a party at another Hasher’s house in Alta Vista and invited me along. I had the good sense to decline but accepted his off of a ride home. Somewhere along the way I changed my mind and joined him at the party. More beers were drunk and so was I. I actually left a few minutes before midnight but knew the magic hour had arrived when the fireworks started while I was stumbling home.
And that’s how I spent the final day and night of the year. Except for the getting drunk part it wasn’t much different than most of my days here. Starting the new year with a hangover but I did struggle my way through a 7K walk this morning. Took a nap, wrote this post, and now I’m thinking about a massage.
Another adventurous hike with the Wednesday walking group yesterday. We traveled out to Bataan, the province next door on the other side of the old Navy base. Our destination was the tower atop Mount Santa Rita.
These days the property serves as a weather observatory of some sort and is controlled by the Philippine military. We needed special permission to enter and make the hike. Our planned adventure proved to be quite popular, with over 30 folks signing up, including a contingent from Angeles City.
Alright, so what was I thinking to take on this trail barely a week after the nearly disastrous hike to Boton Falls on the old Navy base? Well, the situation was quite a bit different. I mean we were hiking up a paved road, there and back again. So there would be no getting lost, no sticker bushes, no stinging ants. I likened it to my days back in Korea when I’d make the climb up to Seoul Tower on pavement.
Easy, peasy. Right, Kevin Kim?
It turns out I was wrong about that. To begin, Mount Santa Rita is twice as high as Namsan. And the road leading up there was much steeper than I imagined it would be. It was 4.5K to the top, with the last 2K being at a 20% or so grade. It kicked my ass and there was some real question in my mind if I were going to be able to make it all the way up. In the end, pride would not let me bail before reaching the objective, but man oh man, were my lungs screaming. I’ve been struggling with uphills quite a bit lately but this prolonged ordeal felt like it was going to kill me. I’m not sure what the deal is, but I suspect my diminished lung capacity is not supplying enough oxygen to my poor old leg muscles. Anyway, I made it and I have the pictures to prove it.
But before I get to that I did have an interesting encounter on the hike. I noticed some of these alongside the road and there was something oddly familiar about them:
I got a better look and could make out the writing on top: Ray-O-Lite.
In the summer of 1972, I worked for the Rayolite company at their plant in Huntington Beach, California. Remembering that fact reminded me about a co-worker named Lisa I had a big crush on. I took her on one date, a Crosby, Stills, and Nash concert. Turns out she had a crush too, just not with me. Ah, well. Story of my as yet unlived life, right? In a sort of epilogue to that unrequited love about four years later I was a mailman in Anaheim and delivered to her house one day. Her mama told me Lisa had married her crush. I hope she had a happily ever after with him.
The other thought I had was that I may have actually had a hand in making those reflective markers. I mean, I’m sure they were installed back in the Navy days. And when I worked there they were a relatively new product line. So, it is possible that me and that Ray-O-Lite were together once again after all these years. Prove me wrong!
Anyway, remembering all that helped me forget my suffering a bit as I made my way up the mountain. Let’s go to the photos, shall we? (As usual, these photos are a group effort. Scott pulls them all together from several sources, cleans them up, then posts them on our Facebook page. Some are mine, but I steal them from there too.)
The path we took to the top.Gathering up at the rendezvous point for our 10:00 a.m. start. That’s a pretty impressive vape cloud if I do say so myself.After marching up the road a kilometer or so, we had to get signed in at a military checkpoint. Then two soldiers accompanied us for the rest of the hike. And we are off!Our two guides for the hike.Our objective is in sight but still oh so far away…As usual, I fell further and further behind. A couple of the gals felt sorry for me I think and stayed back to keep an eye on me.Damn, it doesn’t even look that much closer and I’m panting and drenched in sweat.One disappointment was that there were not many vistas to enjoy on the way up. But we found this one and it gave me the opportunity to rest a little without appearing to be a wimp.I definitely have a crush on this cutie named Marick.But I guess I’m still looking for love in all the wrong places…It was impossible to be the last to arrive discreetly. I had an audience. But by God, I made it!Not so high and mighty now are you, bitch?Only 1551 feet? It sure as hell felt like I was climbing Everest… That fence also interfered with the views. Damn it!If you were willing to do some more climbing you could improve the views.It was kind of a hazy day though.The high and the mighty…Looking down on the rest of us…Isn’t that right, Scott?There’s some pretty scenery!Our fearless group of hikers!Alright then, time to head back down the mountain.As you might imagine, going back down was oh so much easier. The asphalt was covered in algae in places though so you had to be careful not to slip…And I wasn’t even last to make it down!Even had time to stop and smell the flowers…
Well, I did it. Another monster hike and I lived to tell about it.
Felt as old and faded as this post when I was done though.
Here it is New Year’s Eve. Guess I’ll go out and do a bar crawl and see how long I last. I know it won’t be midnight though. But who knows, maybe I’ll fall in love with someone.
I’m willing to make that commitment! If the price is right.
Happy New Year everyone! I’ll be back with a full report on tonight’s adventures tomorrow.
Feeling kind of bleh lately, not sure why really, and not all that unusual for a depressive personality like mine. I’m sure that it will pass in due course and I’ll be ready for some New Year blues.
It’s hard to feel sorry for yourself in this country though because so many have it so much worse, in real and tangible ways. Take Cathy, an online friend from Bohol for instance. Several years ago she and her American husband “adopted” a cousin’s baby because mama wasn’t able to take care of him. A couple of years ago Cathy’s husband died unexpectantly. Cathy struggled but managed in large part because she was motivated by her devotion to “her” son, Eithan. Well, you might have guessed what happened. This Christmas mama came for Eithan and is apparently not going to bring him back. Cathy is of course devastated and doesn’t know what to do. Last we talked she was thinking of joining a convent, whatever that means. She also asked if she could move here to work for me. I told her I don’t have any openings now. I feel for her and her sorrow at losing Eithan but I am advising her to not do anything rash.
Last night, Vel, a woman I tried out once to be my new masseuse contacted me. Seems her kid is in the hospital in Laguna (down south of Manila) and she needs money for medicine. I offered my sympathy and nothing else so far. It sounds a little sketchy, to be honest, and I’m not sure why she thinks a one time customer has some obligation to provide financial assistance for her kids. Catherine, a 25-year old I first met in Wet Spot bar, is also always besieging me for rent and food money. Like I always tell her, it is not my responsibility to pay your bills. I do give her the opportunity to provide me certain services in exchange for cash occasionally, but that’s all there’s gonna be. Same thing with Mary who keeps begging me to see her. I do feel sorry for her but so far at least I haven’t relented.
So, comparatively speaking, what do I have to be sad about?
In the good news department, I threw some decent darts relatively consistently last night. So did my partner.
The result was a first-place finish. Thanks, Espie!
Another big Wednesday walking adventure. I’ll write that up tomorrow. Now I must nap!
Which is one of the reasons I drink gin and soda when I’m not playing darts…
Less carbs with the gin drink but more alcohol content than the beer. It’s a tradeoff that I’m making in my quest to lose a few more pounds. This photo provided a bit more motivation:
Those ugly, judgmental mugs would drive a man to drink!
Anyway, it’s another Hash Monday so I’m doing a morning post here and don’t have much to write about. I guess that is stating the obvious though. Leech My Nuggets is the Hare today so I will not be surprised if I find it necessary to shortcut his trail. I suspect he has more than one climb in mind for us, and one is about my limit these days. Our On-Home is here at the Alta Vista Community Center so I shouldn’t have any trouble finding my way back. Once again I’ll be contributing a pot of chili to our food service.
Browning the ground beef…The other ingredients,And everything into the crockpot. Easy peasy.
At 50 pesos a bowl I’m pretty sure I’m not breaking even. Will count how many bowls in a pot, then do the math. I think I’ll need to raise the price to at least 75 pesos ($1.50) though.
A rainy day yesterday so I wasn’t able to get out and about much. Well, wasn’t motivated to do so is probably more accurate. I’m not sure if it is cause for concern yet but I find myself increasingly forgetful. No, not as bad as Biden, but irritating to get down the road and realize I don’t have my phone, or vapes, or earbuds. Yesterday I got all the way to the highway and realized that I hadn’t brought any money, so had to turn around and march on back home to get some. I need to remember to remember to do a mental checklist before leaving the house. And yes, I repeated to remember on purpose. I thought it was kind of funny but apparently, my Grammarly app does not agree.
Oh well. I forget what I was going to say next.
It’s good to see my watchdogs keeping me safe.You lazy bastards…
Oh, and this is from the same guy who claims it was impossible for Biden to steal the election:
Time for me to prepare for my Hash ordeal. More on that tomorrow.
As seen on my morning walk. Not sure if this is a warning or a joke I don’t quite get…
Speaking of head, I didn’t get any. Under relentless pressure, I almost succumbed (heh, you can’t spell succumbed without “cum”) to Mary’s entreaties for a rendevous. And then at the last minute, I bailed again. It seems my big head keeps overruling that other one. And honestly, the last experience with her was very unsatisfying and I didn’t want to waste my time and money on a gal with a hot bod who apparently doesn’t know how to use it.
I really don’t know if Mary is an actual prostitute. She denies it and I tend to believe her, if for no other reason than she sucks at the job. Er, well, I guess technically sucking is part of the job and she’s not good at that either. I’m really not that hard to please, but I need my partner to at least be able to pretend to be into me when I’m, um, into her. Mary apparently has no acting ability whatsoever. That last time we were together I thought she was going to cry. Not conducive to maintaining the illusion that a hot young woman is feeling the passion for my lovemaking skills. Ah well.
…young women are using the tools around them, which in this case are sex and intimacy, to form relationships with foreign men as a means to improve their lives, make socioeconomic advancements, and ultimately find enjoyment in their lives. The book also sheds light on the relationships themselves that develop between Cambodian women and foreign men, which are multi-layered and complex, but often stigmatized as only ever commercial or only ever exploitative. After spending over 10 years talking to people, I found that often this is not the case, and that people are genuinely seeking true love and intimacy, and that intimacy and economics mingle in complex ways, as they do in any relationship, in Cambodia and beyond.
I made my first trip to the PI in 2008 and was quite astounded by this aspect of life here. Most of the gals I’ve met over the years are doing the best they can with the assets available to them. I see no difference between a woman who works on her back or a man who carries bricks on his back to make a living.
There were definitely active decisions being made to participate in this work and in this lifestyle. Most of the women were not controlled heavily by bosses and managers. They could make their own choices as to whether or not they would go with clients and what they would or would not do with clients. One of the main findings of the book was that most of them were not doing the kind of pre-negotiated sex-for-cash transaction that we often understand to be commercial sex work. It was more ambiguous than that. It was based in a grey area where sex, love and money were all coming together, but it wasn’t framed as commercial sex work – the women didn’t view themselves as sex workers, and the men didn’t view themselves as clients.
In all these years I’ve never met one woman in a bar who wasn’t there by choice. Well, let me clarify, never in the Philippines. I did know of some Filipinas who were brought to Korea under false pretenses and forced to work as bargirls.
Their argument is: “We don’t want to be rescued by people who think they necessarily know better than us.” What happens when they are “rescued,” is that often, they are often put into these rehabilitation programs or vocational shelters where they are taught to learn to sew and handle a sewing machine, and then placed back in a garment factory. This is not the socioeconomic decision they are making. It’s one that is being forced upon them by people who believe this is a more dignified form of work. What the sex and entertainment workers are demanding is respect for the decisions they make under very constrained circumstances. Bar work is a viable means of labor and employment for some of them—that they choose—and what they are calling for is recognition and respect for those decisions, made within the environments that they are in and among the limited options that they have.
Precisely. The hypocrisy of these NGO’s and government authorities who shut down the bars and “rescue” the working women is astounding. When the bars are gone, the women are forced into a much harder life, including being a streetwalker.
Well, anyway, it is what it is I suppose. I’m honestly not really into that scene myself but will partake on occasion. Some of the gals are real pros and know how to work you for the maximum payoff. Others, like poor Mary, don’t seem to have a clue. I guess it is really no different than any industry in that respect.
Moving on to other things.
The pot roast I made last night was quite excellent if I do say so myself.And watching the dawning of a new day is always a treat for an old fart like me. How many more of these do I have? Well, they say you get the government you deserve. And those Biden voters are going to get it good and hard. As will the rest of us, unfortunately.
I guess I didn’t do much that would be considered traditional, but I did hang with some friends and enjoyed some good eats. And beers. After the party, I popped into Mango’s for more beer to exchange greetings with the staff and enjoy some ocean views. I’ve got a few photos from the day’s doings to give you a taste of the revelry.
The gracious hosts for the party, Steve and Viola. Steve’s a pretty good bloke for an Aussie. I’m going to assume that Viola’s middle name is Lynn.It wasn’t catered and it wasn’t a potluck. The hosts worked hard to provide an outstanding selection of eats and the parts I sampled were all excellent.These gals were grillin’ up some samgyeopsal to add to the mix.Steve said there 45 folks in attendance. Here are some of the guys…And the guy who matters most. My Christmas shirt says “Where’s my Ho-Ho-Ho’s?”As is their custom, the Filipinas hung out together in the other room. I think it is because they prefer speaking in Tagalog. Also, that’s where the videoke machine was located.I’d never been to Steve’s place before but this house across the street is where my first apartment was located. I don’t miss it!When I arrived at Mango’s looking forward to some bay viewing, this boat was in the way.The boat finally pulls out, then SHE shows up. How am I supposed to enjoy the view?Hey, she looks familiar…Nope, not her.I think the last time I was in a kayak was on a river in Arkansas 40 years ago… Nothing bad about these mittons…Christmas on the beach. Once again, almost exclusively Filipinos. A sign of the times I suppose.And the sun sets on a Christmas day…
I’m trying harder these days to appreciate the life I’m living rather than wishing for something else. In that spirit, I can truthfully say that this was the best Christmas I’ve ever experienced. This year.
You’ll need to take this post with a grain of salt. Hey, it’s Christmas, cut me some slack!
The party held by the helpers at my house last night appeared to have been a success. If drunkenness and bad singing are any indications. Yeah, I consented to let them do the videoke thing so as not to come off as the Grinch. At least they asked. I kind of regretted it when I hit the hay at 9:00 and they were still going strong. But I put on my headphones and drowned them out until I fell asleep. I got up this morning and one of the guests was passed out on my living room couch. I found out later she was sleeping in a pool of her own vomit. Yuck! Well, my helpers cleaned up the mess so no biggie I suppose. Gee, aren’t I just full of the Christmas spirit?
I went into town for a few beers while the gals partied. Was surprised to see a fair number of bars closed. Cheap Charlies was open though so I popped in and had a couple. Bought some lady drinks too. Caring is sharing and all that. Actually, one of the gals I drank with was a real cutie. Found out she was 22, no kids, and a boyfriend in Switzerland. Bless her heart. On my way back home I popped into the newest place in town, Adam’s Sports Bar. The only reason I even go there is that I know the bartender from her Cheap Charlies days. Some of the girls are cute I suppose. And I did get to witness them practicing doing blow jobs.
Getting ready for action……and they are off!That gal in the maroon top can really suck it!
Yeah, I know. What else is there to do though?
My driver took me shopping yesterday. I also needed to renew my visa but immigration was closed for “disinfecting”. Seems awfully convenient to do that on Christmas eve. Ah well, government employees are going to be government employees I suppose. Anyway, I was happy to see Danny taking his wife’s passing in stride. He’s probably relieved that he doesn’t have to watch her suffer anymore. He told me his son’s wife is having a baby today and he seemed comforted in that whole circle of life thing.
Rest in Peace. I’d only met her a couple of times but it seems she lived a good life while it lasted.
That’s all I’ve got this morning. Attending a party at noon out on Baloy hosted by a couple of Hash friends. I’ll be back with more tomorrow!
Not that it matters much to me. Christmas doesn’t mean a lot without family and I’m far away from family. So tomorrow will pretty much be just another day I suppose. Well, I’ve got an invite to a party I’ll probably attend, so there’s that.
It’s interesting that this is the time of year when acquaintances (I’m talking about Filipinas here) contact you out of the blue with a hearty Christmas greeting. Followed with “where’s my gift?” At first, I thought it was a joke, but after seeing the behavior repeated numerous times I guess it is just a thing. And I’ve been here long enough now to reject such requests out of hand. Well, unless there’s some quid pro quo involved. One gal I kinda had a crush on when she worked at Cheap Charlies gave the gift solicitation greeting the other day. It had been months since I’d heard from her and there seemed to be some desperation and urgency in this request. She has two kids and no job so I imagine things are tough for her. So, instead of a gift, I offered her a part-time job. Nothing dirty, I’m honestly looking for a replacement for my departed masseuse. Of course, a willingness to provide “extra” services would earn extra pay, but that’s not required. I enjoy a regular massage just fine. Anyway, this gal rejected the offer out of hand. I guess things aren’t as desperate as they appear.
Mary, the 22-year old I met a while back but haven’t seen recently, has also been sending me messages wanting to “get together”. I resisted her entreaties because the few times I’d been with her previously were unsatisfying. Especially the last one. But last night after a few beers in a moment of weakness I messaged her that we could meet at 1 p.m. today. When I woke up this morning and saw she hadn’t responded, I breathed a sigh of relief and messaged her “nevermind”. I was surprised she took it so poorly (she told me she was crying) and reminded her that she had not bothered to confirm our appointment so I had made other plans. See? I’m getting better at this!
I guess my helpers are having some friends over tonight for some food and drinking. I’ll be making myself scarce for that event.
And that’s where things stand with me on this Christmas Eve. Here are some photos from yesterday’s hike you might enjoy (Scott took most of these):
The green line is from my house to where we met up with Scott. I think this is the first time I’ve shown y’all the birds-eye view of the My Bitch trail.Our Wednesday Walkers this week.One of our local Dao trees…not the monsters we saw last week on the old Navy base. But give ’em time…Views from up top…Mountain views…I’m guessing regular readers know the name of this one…Kids being kids…Heading back down to the valley…Slow and steady, Scott.One last look from up high.I broke out my new trekking pole and it worked just fine.It didn’t speed me up any though…Hey, I’ve got cookies to deliver!She’s one of my regulars and comes running to greet me whenever I’m in the area…Onward!Troy and his gal Jessa. Ain’t they sweet?And that’s it for this gnarly post!
My driver called yesterday morning to advise his wife had just died. We were scheduled to make our weekly shopping run and he offered to find someone to send in his place. I told him not to worry about me and wished him the best during this difficult time. Danny’s wife had been ill for quite some time, getting dialysis three times a week and growing weaker and weaker. She was suffering and had no quality of life so perhaps her passing is a blessing. I know Danny is devastated. His daughter lives in Florida and she was coming to see her mother on the 28th. Now she will be here for the funeral. That’s a shame. I recall when my mom was on her deathbed she thanked me for coming home to her. I’d just made it from Korea a few days earlier.
My life goes on though, such as it is. Hiking, darting, and drinking. My health seems to be withstanding that onslaught so far. And I guess my big news is that I have once again broken the 200-pound threshold! I still want to get under 195 before I start getting lazy diet-wise. Really all I’m doing is cutting back on carbs (mostly bread and sweets) and skipping the noontime meal.
I look nothing like I did 5 years ago although I still have a bigger belly than I’d prefer.
I have a singles league match this afternoon. The league seems to be going well thus far and I’m really seeing improvement in the darting skills of a lot of our players. That’s really the purpose of the league so we are off to a good start.
I’m ambivalent about the vaccine. I’ll take it if it makes my life more convenient, especially if it facilitates travel.I think I’ll have another beer!
Gotta run, those darts ain’t gonna throw themselves.
Yesterday’s Candy Run Hash was for all appearances quite a success. Especially if you measure success by the smiles on the faces of the children we encountered. I’ll let the photos do the talking:
Your humble Hares, Pubic Head, and Cum Together are joined by My Boyfriend Sucks Dick for this photo op.Our urban trail was only 4K in deference to Santa’s advanced years.Hashers gathering at our meetup location.Santa to his helper: “sit on my lap and we’ll talk about the first thing that pops up”. To which the helper responded: “that’s not a very big subject!”A group photo of the 39 Hashers in attendance.And we are On-On!Making our way through the sometimes narrow streets of Barretto…Her Hash name is Fuck My Ass. I always ask her what her name is and when she tells me I say “maybe later”. It is a sweet ass though!Don’t worry, we got your back, Santa.Candy is dandy!For the naughty girls on Santa’s list, I suppose…No child left behind…Everybody loves Santa.Gathering for another group shot about halfway through our trek.A sweet success.Santa is coming!Let’s see those smiles!Something for everyone it seems.I thought there was no way I’d run out of goodies but here at the end, I was in rationing mode. Luckily I could tell the kids, Santa has candy!I guess the highlight of the Hash circle was recognizing three birthdays in the Hash tradition. Congrats to Pubic Head, Demolition Derby, and Blow My Pipe.Afterward, some of us gravitated over to Beach Please, arriving in time for sunset…And then the sun came up this morning. The circle remains unbroken.
Merry Christmas from the Subic Bay Hash House Harriers!
Quite the adventure on Friday’s hike. The decision was made to motor out to SBMA (the old Navy base) and hike down to the falls. I’d never been in this area and it is mostly undeveloped and little used. The terrain was very jungle-like and overgrown. There were some HUGE trees, the likes of which I hadn’t seen since visiting Sequoia National Park many years ago. The hiking trails were not in good condition, in many places fallen trees had blocked the path. This required us to either climb over or find a way around, both of which proved easier said than done.
Anyway, the first half of the hike to the falls was quite enjoyable. I always like getting out and seeing new places. The return portion though proved to be a nightmare. Lots of ups and downs, sometimes it felt like we were going in circles. The trail was covered with low-laying vines which tended to get wrapped around your feet and trip you up. That phenomenon was exacerbated as I grew increasingly tired and started dragging my feet with more frequency. Our leaders (i.e. the guys ahead of me on trail, which is pretty much everyone) assured me we were almost there and that this was the last hill. So, I was ready to be done and pushing myself to finish with my dignity intact.
Oh, I didn’t mention the ants, did I? So, we are hiking along and one of the guys in front of me shouts “watch out for the ants!” And right at that moment, I feel several stings on my legs. I reached down to brush them off and got a bite on my hand as well. Damn, I’d never seen ants like these before. Big black ones. There are lots of red ants in the woods here and they’ll give you a good pinch now and then, but nothing like what those black bastards delivered. More like a bee sting. Hurt like hell for a few minutes but no swelling or other residual effects. Hopefully, that ant encounter will remain a once in a lifetime experience.
Apparently, the trail we were taking had been done on a Hash back in 2014. Lots had changed since then I guess. The guys who had been on that run didn’t see much that seemed familiar. And then somehow we lost the trail. It just disappeared into the underbrush I guess (again, I was following so I’m not sure of the hows or whens). We weren’t lost-lost, GPS told us the cars were parked at the top of the hill, less than a kilometer away. And so the decision was made to blaze our way to the top without the benefit of a trail. In retrospect, perhaps that wasn’t the best idea. The brush was heavy and dense. The vines and roots were especially difficult to traverse. To make matters worse, there was a fern-like plant covered in sharp thistles and thorns that would grab a hold of you and not want to let go. I received a lot of new scratches all over my legs from those bastards. Periodically we’d hit a stand of think bamboo with wall-like qualities that forced a retreat and go-around. And just when it seemed the nightmare couldn’t get any worse, it did.
The already steep climb became a cliff face. It appeared to be 10-12 feet high almost straight up. A couple of the guys started climbing up but I knew I didn’t have the upper body strength pulling myself up would require. I was dreading the thought of turning around and going back down through the sticker field, but there was no way I was going to attempt a climb like the one in front of me. Fortunately, one of the guys found a spot where we could climb up diagonally. It was not easy by any means, but it was at least doable.
And then finally we were at the top and made our way to the vehicles without further incident. Stopped into Vasco’s on base for lunch and beers then headed for home. I’d left the house at 0830 and it was almost 3 p.m. when I returned. A LONG hard day for this old man!
I’ve got some photos for you:
A God’s eye view of our hike. It didn’t feel like God was with us though. That squiggly line on the right-hand side was our freelance climb up the final hill. Makes me tired and sore just looking at it.Our group of hikers for the day, sans Scott who is behind the camera.The first portion of the hike was on pavement. That was nice…As usual, I’m bringing up the rear.This part of SBMA is mostly undeveloped. You can still see vestiges of the old Navy days, like these Quonset huts.I thought this gigantic dead tree standing was interesting enough to warrant a photo. Little did I know that dead trees falling would be our bane.To the falls we go!Norman, a retired Marine who lives on SBMA, joined us for the hike. He proved to be a big help lending me a hand when needed to overcome some of the terrain-related obstacles.Usually, when we hike we are on well-trod paths. Not so on this one. Made things a lot more difficult.Getting over one of those fallen trees I mentioned earlier. There were several.You think this tree is big? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet!Norman helping the old guy out…We made it to the falls, such as they were. Was it worth it, Scott?So now what do we do, Troy?We’ll find our way back. What could go wrong?Now THAT’S a tree!It actually had a tunnel going through the trunk. Not sure if that was a natural phenomenon or not.Those are some big ass roots! That’s Norman coming through the tunnel.
I didn’t get any shots of the nasty trail-less climb. I needed both hands and all my focus to survive. Sadly, my new trekking pole could not withstand the abuse it endured.
Rest in Peace.Recuperating after the ordeal at Vasco’s.And so concludes this jungle post.
Time to get ready for today’s Candy Run Hash.
This is what I’m bringing to share with the kiddles.
We’ve got a nice mostly flat 4K trail we’ll walk and distribute our goodies. Looking forward to the smiles.
Wow, the landscape in this music video looks eerily similar to what it looked like on my hike.
Sorry for the sporadic posting here of late. Despite my best intentions, my normal schedule has been a bit disrupted. Unfortunately, the blog has borne the brunt of my bad timing failures. I promised a post on Friday’s jungle hike and it’s coming. Tomorrow I hope.
So if I’ve been so busy that I can’t write about life’s intrusions it must be some pretty interesting stuff, right? Well, I’ll let you be the judge of that.
Friday’s hike was long and hard. Once I got home I only had time for a quick nap, a shower, then off to the darts tourney. Finished third.
Saturday morning I walked the trail we are planning for Monday’s Hash (I’m co-Hare for that). When I got home I did a post here about some things that have been on my mind other than the usual walking and drinking shit I write about.
And I used my leftover burrito ingredients to make myself a nacho lunch.
Then I had to prepare myself for an afternoon birthday party here in the neighborhood. By the time I got home, I was in no condition to write anything here.
Here are a few photos from the party:
Heidi’s house is one of the nicest in the neighborhood. We did the party up on the open-air third floor which is set up like a bar/resto.Ricky, the birthday boy. Well, he turned 50 so boy might be an overstatement.Amazing views from the deck.I’m no snob but I found myself looking down on the pool.The gals in attendance…And some of us menfolk.Our hosts grilled up some chicken…Pasta and other sides…What’s in the box?You guessed it–Lechon!
The food was all great, the company and banter were fun, and I wound up having a really nice time. I guess the takeaway feeling I had was a sense of belonging. I feel at home here now. This is my life and I mostly like it.
This morning I woke up a little bit later than usual, walked the dogs, then headed out for a quick breakfast at Jewel Cafe.
I opted for a club sandwich. Hey, it had egg on it so that qualifies as breakfast, right?
After I ate, I met up with my co-Hare, Pubic Head, and we marked our trail for tomorrow’s Hash. This is our annual Candy Run and we’ll be walking the streets of Barretto handing out sweets to the kiddies. And yes, Santa has confirmed he will be joining us for the hike!
Got home, took a nap, showered up, and rushed over to Alley Cats for my Barretto Singles League dart match.
The games were a lot closer than the score would indicate. I was pleased though to have thrown some pretty consistently good darts.
On the way home after the match, I popped into The Pub restaurant and ordered me up some Korean style chicken wings to go. Had a beer and a nice chat with the owner, John Kim.
The wings aren’t technically on the menu, you have to ask for them. John says he tries to update the menu every couple of months based on what’s popular. I’m going to have to ask for some bulgogi next time I think.Chicken and broccoli, how can you go wrong with that?
So that’s what’s been intruding on my blogging time. I appreciate your indulgence. I’m going to do my best to get the jungle post done in the morning before the Hash.
Thursday is one of my solitary walking days and I usually try to step it up so to speak and make it a long one. Well, long being a relative term. I’m no Kevin Kim after all.
Anyway, to change it up a little and make it a bit more interesting (for me at least) I decided that I would take a photo in 1000 step increments. Whatever I happened to see wherever I happened to be when I hit that marker. Not really difficult as depending on terrain I am pretty consistent in walking 1000 steps every ten minutes. So, it was just a matter of glancing at my watch and checking my Fitbit, then pulling out the phone and snapping a picture. Here’s how it turned out:
Yeah, I’m usually an 8K kinda guy. No mountains to climb today though made it easier to put in some extra distance. Anyway, it was kinda fun to anticipate where I’d be when it was time for the next photo op.
Best of all, I remembered how to get home!
I can’t remember where I heard that before.
Anyway, that’s about it from here. Oh, I don’t think I mentioned that I sold my first pot of chili. The Hasher (Preying Mantis) that always gets takeout for her husband when I make a batch for the Hash asked if I’d make a pot of chili for them. Turns out they live on a sailboat and are going to be taking a cruise this week. I guess my chili is going along to provide nourishment on the trip. I only charged her the 500 pesos it cost me for the ingredients but it’s kinda cool having people willing to pay for anything I cook.
That’s Preying Mantis kneeling in white on the right. She’s gotta be close to six feet tall. I find her quite attractive for a married woman. Alas, she only loves my chili!
See, I found an opportunity to share a gratuitous photo of the female Hashers (Gash) at their Christmas party. You’re welcome.
One of my old smartass putdowns when arguing was that “I’ve forgotten more than you’ll ever know”. I fear that it may actually be coming true, at least the forgetting part. It goes beyond mere absent-mindedness; today I walked out for my hike and forgot to put on my hat. To make that failure even worse, I had gone upstairs earlier for the specific purpose of getting the ballcap I’d forgotten earlier. Took a pee and forgot the hat again.
But what really bothers me is the parts of my life that are just fading away. Last night laying in bed and waiting for sleep to overtake me I started thinking back to my youth on Milton Avenue in Westminster, California. Heh, I remember my address (13892) but what about the friends I grew up with? I remembered some of them, like Rod McClanahan and Darrol McCue who lived on my street. There were other buddies too that I can vaguely recall but some have fallen into a black hole. I remember I drove a friend’s sports car through a brick wall. Yeah, I was high or drunk. Or both.
The car looked like this before the accident. I remember it was a Triumph TR4 but I don’t remember the owner’s name.
There were a lot of empty spots like that in my memory and I found it disconcerting. So it was rather surprising when I got a message from my high school buddy Rod Headlee this morning:
Do you remember who the members of the Ringwraiths softball team were the year we won the championship game two to one?
Are you kidding me? That would have been 1974 and I honestly hadn’t thought of those guys since the turn of the century. [UPDATE: 2010 anyway] Coincidentally, some of the names would have been the same ones I couldn’t remember from the night before. I remembered playing softball of course and our team name but had no recollection of our championship season.
Now, Rod and I are Facebook friends. But his message this morning was the first time I’d heard from him in three years. Last time I saw Rod and his wife Pat was back on New Year’s Day in 2012 on his sailboat in North Carolina. Yep, they live on the boat most of the time and travel the world from their West Coast base. Not bad for a guy who’s a couple of years older than me. Anyway, his message today out of the blue took me aback. And after I confessed I couldn’t really remember more than a couple of the players, I asked how he was doing. He responded that he had some plumbing to do and would get back to me later. Maybe another three years?
And as if to underscore the point I’m attempting to make with this post (and which I might have forgotten by now) I did a quick search of my blog archives and found this post from 2010 featuring this photograph:
No, I didn’t remember ever posting about the Ringwraiths until now. But this has triggered some memories. Back row: #66 is Jim Meehan, #13 is Rod Headlee, #6 is Larry Raemakers. Front row: #12 Paul Martin, next to him Dutch something or other, Chuck Martin, don’t recall #24, #35 is Doug Price and #22 is my brother Keith.Oh, and that handsome #7 looks awfully familiar…
So, I don’t know whether I should feel good about remembering some more names after seeing the photo or not. The “Dutch” guy was my pot supplier and my first wife’s ex-boyfriend. It’s scary to me though that I don’t recall my old post or the fact that we were league champions.
Rod also reminded me that we attended a massive outdoor rock concert that year called California Jam.
I don’t really remember this either. But in my defense, I was very likely stoned out of my mind at the time.
Oh well, this has been an interesting trip (and fall) down memory lane. At least for me. I forgot I’m writing for an audience that probably gave up on this post after the first paragraph. If you are still here, thank you for your indulgence!
As bad as I may be, at least I’m not China’s bitch.
Or puppet as it were.
Now if I could only figure out how to lose the bad memories.
