I had some unexpected company for my Sunday stroll. Bhel messaged me asking if she and a friend could join me. Me being me, I asked, “for an orgy?” But no, it was just the walk they were interested in. As it turned out, I may as well have been alone–the girls yakked in Tagalog the whole way, and most of the time, they were slow-poking fifty yards behind me. Not that I cared all that much, I was getting my steps in; that’s what matters.

I did the usual roundabout through the Naugsol valley, over to Govic, through Santa Monica, and back to Barretto–a little over 8K altogether.

I only took one photo during the hike; I’ve done it so many times there is really nothing new to see, but I had a glance into the future from my Govic highway vantage point.

We finished the hike at Sit-n-Bull, where I treated my companions to lunch.

I was in for a bit of a shock when I discovered that Bhel’s friend is a waitress at Sit-n-Bull. She knew me as a customer, but I didn’t recognize her at all. That’s a problem I have with my feeble brain these days–when I see someone outside of their usual context, I usually don’t recognize them. I get greeted by people on the street all the time, and I have no clue how they know me. Ah well, I’ve got the generic nod and “how ya been?” down pat these days.

In the afternoon, I prepared for my feeding day at Hideaway Bar by baking a chocolate cake. On the way there, I ordered a pizza at Shamboli’s and picked up a roast chicken at Chooks to Go.

I had a friendly chat with Gary, one of the Hideaway regulars. It turns out he reads my blog and claims to like it. Well, it is nice to have fans, but it does somewhat deflate the idea that I have some anonymity here. It’s okay; I’ll continue to call them as I see them; no turning back now!

I stopped by IDM and had a couple more beers with Martin and Chris. Yes, I bought Agnes a drink too. While there, I got a message from Lydell asking me where I was. I smilingly responded, “It Doesn’t Matter.” Unfortunately, she was familiar with the name and told me to enjoy myself at IDM. Oh, well.

I decided to surprise Lydell with a visit to Snackbar. Turns out, the surprise was on me. She didn’t seem particularly excited to see me, but when I bought her a drink, she dutifully sat down next to me. And ignored me. Damn, I wish she cared about me as much as she seemed to love her phone. Anyway, I haven’t really said much about our “relationship” here because I don’t really have a clue what she is thinking and feeling. But I took her actions last night to be a clear indication that I am wasting my time. So, I’ll act accordingly and waste my time on someone else.

Oh, as I walked down the highway on my way to Snackbar, I encountered not one but two street-walking prostitutes. That’s something you rarely see in Barretto. They were actually both pretty cute, but I wasn’t tempted. When you bring a freelancing stranger into your home, nothing good comes of it. If I were going to go that route, I’d get a hotel room to take care of business. Much safer, though, to just take a girl out of the bar where there is some accountability for their behavior, not to mention the STD tests they are required to get on a regular basis.

I guess thinking about that Real McCoys television show got me wondering about where I was when I watched it way back then. And in a mind-boggling revelation, I actually remembered my address: 6152 Chickasaw Drive, Westminster, CA 92683. We lived in a subdivision called Indian Village (all the streets were named after Native American tribes). I’d never Googled an address before, but by golly, when I did, I found this:

I decided to look up the first house I purchased as a young father of two back in 1980.

So bizarre that I can’t remember things that matter, but useless info like old addresses is readily accessible. Maybe it’s a vestige of my long-ago life as a letter carrier.

And here I am on the other side of the world.

Sometimes life can be a beach. Or at least a beach bar. Several weeks ago, a surge brought on by a tropical storm destroyed one of my Baloy hangouts. It’s been rebuilt now and last night was the grand re-opening. My original plan was just to have a couple of beers, wish them well, and move on. Then my pal Ron showed up, and all bets were off. Plus, McCoy’s doesn’t serve San Miguel Zero, so I was drinking light beers (5% alcohol versus the 3% I’m used to). Let’s just say I got a little more buzzed than usual.

The new McCoy’s is much nicer and built to withstand future storms (the main bar area is elevated about three feet off the ground). It caters to a predominately Filipino crowd (I think Ron and I were the only white folks in attendance last night), and it has a nice laid-back vibe. Except when they play the damn videoke at high volume, which thankfully wasn’t happening last night. It’s the best beach bar in town because it is one of the few that are actually on the beach. I’ll make it a point to visit now and then when I want to chill and watch the sun go down.

After I left McCoy’s, I made a quick stop at Snackbar on my way back home.

I had something sweet waiting for me at home, too.

It was a pretty good day, all and all: new views and a new place to hang out. One more bar to add to the mix, although Baloy is a bit off my beaten path.

Am I the only one old enough to remember watching The Real McCoys on television? It aired from 1957-1963, so I was probably five or six when I first saw it.

The Friday group hike turned out to be more of an adventure than I anticipated. There were only four of us in attendance, so I led the group. My plan was to walk out through the Naugsol valley, then up the hill where the Virgin Mary statue is located, and finish on Rizal Extension. Except not much went according to plan. The valley road was flooded, which is unusual for this time of year. Finding a workaround proved more challenging than anticipated, but we eventually did find the intended path again and began our climb upwards. Except somewhere on the way up, we took a wrong turn. We found ourselves on the wrong side of a fence but eventually managed to make our escape.

Did the long march down Rizal Extension and then stopped in at Pugon Corner for a grilled meat lunch.

I’ll share the hike photos at the end of this post.

Another nice SOB last night. Wet Spot is probably the largest venue, and the place was packed; I didn’t see an empty seat. The people sitting around me were strangers but friendly. Introductions were made, and it turns out that they are all Alta Vista residents. The guy sitting next to me will actually be a next-door neighbor when I make the move to the Blue House in March.

I was lamenting not having a drinking partner for the show last night. Joy from Alaska came in and said hello, but it quickly became apparent that she already had a drink buddy lined up. As I sat there stewing in my loneliness, the Wet Spot dancers (the regular ones, not the competition team) came off the stage. One of them said, “Hello, John,” as she passed by my table. I didn’t recognize her, but damn, it seemed like the bar gods were interceding on my behalf, so I jumped up and went in search of this mystery woman. I was very surprised to see it was Aine, a gal I hadn’t seen in the bar for a couple of months.

I brought her back to my table and plied her with drinks while asking what happened to the man who “rescued” her from the bar earlier this year. Aine said he had taken her to Singapore, and after living there for two months, they returned to Manila. She said she left him because he was “crazy.” I responded in my usual caring fashion, “so are you.” She just laughed. Anyway, it was good to see her again and share an evening together.

I chose not to go to the Aftermath event, and as I made my way up the highway, I encountered Jerry, the owner of Alaska Club. When he asked where I was going, what could I say except, “Alaska, of course.” Word on the street is that he hired several new dancers, so I needed to check out the scenery anyway.

I was the only customer when I arrived, so I got my pick of the litter. I liked the cut of this one’s jib:

Shortly after I arrived, a group of big spenders came in and took the remaining dancers off the stage for drinks. I had good timing for a change. It was past my bedtime, and I was in danger of exceeding my drinking capacity, so I paid my tab, tipped the girls, and caught a trike home. Not a bad Friday night, all in all.

To those hiking photos, then:

It turned out to be quite the adventure, but at least we didn’t get bored.

You can Relive it here if you like that kind of thing:

So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell, blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

Did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
Did you exchange
A walk-on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.

I posted earlier today about my morning, so here’s how I spent the rest of the day.

Wednesday is my Hideaway Bar feeding expedition, so I baked up a batch of brownies and headed to John’s place for the grub–Korean style chicken wings for the girls and fish tacos for Joy. Since I was there, I decided to feed myself too.

Earlier in the day, John had posted this on Facebook:

Excuse me if you see me sleeping behind the bar. I am not well. I drown so I need to sleep sitting up. I got myself a lazyboy and pretty much live in it.

Still, I was shocked when I saw him; he looked terrible. I asked what was going on, and he said something about kidney and lung issues–coughing up blood. Because of the fluid in his lungs, he can’t lie down flat, hence the reclining chair behind the bar. Damn, I hope he gets well soon!

With my takeout orders in hand, I crossed the highway to Hideaway.

The brownies were more popular than usual with the girls. I used a different mix–no walnuts and extra chocolate. I guess that’s the way I’ll go in the future. Beers were drunk; ladies’ drinks were bought, and I even got a freebie beer from the manager.

While I was at Hideaway, I got a message from Lydell and decided to pay her a surprise visit at Snackbar. I did confirm before going that the f’n World Cup wasn’t being blared on the TV. Nothing against soccer; I just can’t handle the noise. Snackbar’s clientele mostly sits outside, and the sound system is inside. The last time I was there, I asked them to turn it down, and they did. A bit later, an outside customer came in and asked that it be turned back up. I was leaving anyway, but I’ll be glad when this “footie” shit is over.

Anyway, Snackbar seems to be doing well. Quite a few customers, and most surprisingly, it was about a 50-50 Filipino/Foreigner mix. The bars here are usually one way or the other. One Filipino table had most of the waitresses drinking with them, which meant I only had to buy for Lydell. Win!

A bit later, my friend “Judy” visited the bar and sat with Lydell and me at the table. When Lydell got up to serve a customer, she asked my opinion about something her friend was going through. It seems she discovered that the boyfriend was liking photos of pretty women on Instagram. My first reaction was, “big deal,” and then I went into a tirade about jealousy being all about poor self-esteem and unfounded accusations doing more damage to relationships than people realize; when I paused to catch my breath, I noticed “Judy” was crying. Damn, I did come down a little heavy, and she fessed up that she was talking about her boyfriend. Okay, well, I calmed down, and we had a more rational discussion about them talking through this issue. While I didn’t see anything wrong with merely liking someone’s posts, she could explain to him it bothered her, and perhaps he’d stop out of respect for her feelings. Then I bought her a beer.

This morning I sent her that “sociopathic” quote, and she responded that he had ended the relationship last night. Okay, well, good riddance then. She said she had been alone most of her life and could deal with it; she was just pissed at herself for believing in this guy. Hmm, welcome to my world. Anyway, she’s an amazing woman, and anyone would be lucky to have her.

Actually, I tried several months ago to the “the one.” Judy fits the description of the type of woman my commenters have encouraged me to find–older (she’s forty), intelligent, and doesn’t work in a bar (she does online recruiting). She is athletic and enjoys hiking, occasionally joining our group hikes. She’s adventurous and has traveled to several Asian countries unaccompanied and backpacked on her own. I was smitten the first time we met, but the attraction was sadly not mutual. I understand her perspective; I’m old and can’t give her the baby she desperately wants. That’s the way love is–you can feel the destiny, and they are feeling “not gonna be.” C’est la vie. (originally, I spelled the French phrase wrong, despite having looked it up. Thanks, Kev!)

That was my night. And I’m alright with it. You never know what might be waiting for you around the next corner.

Another “lazy” Tuesday is behind me, but at least this one featured some minor differences that made it slightly more interesting. Relatively speaking, of course.

In addition to my grocery shopping mission in Olongapo, I needed to get my first visa extension since my return from Cambodia. In the PI, you get thirty days on arrival, and then you can renew your tourist visa periodically for up to three years before being required to exit the country again. The Olongapo immigration bureau only grants a maximum of sixty days for each extension. Other offices, like Manila and Cebu, allow six-month extensions. So, I signed up for my usual two-month extension but was only granted one. Apparently, your first extension can only be for thirty days. At least in Olongapo. Why there are different rules in different offices that are arguably applying a national immigration law is beyond my limited ability to comprehend—just one of the mysteries that make the Philippines such a special place.

After I left immigration, I was tasked with picking up the 2023 Hash calendars from the printer. I don’t know much about Olongapo City streets, but I did have this photograph to work from:

Nothing unusual at the grocery store, other than a couple of “Thanksgiving sale” specials I took advantage of.

I had a headache when I got back home, so I popped some aspirin and took a nap. My mountain mama friend suggested a massage, and I accepted. She focused on my head. Both of them. And it had been a while since I explored her mancave with my fleshlight. A very happy ending, and miraculously, my headache was forgotten when she was done.

When beer o’clock rolled around, I headed out but didn’t really have a destination in mind. I was considering the new bars in town, but it felt too early in the evening to give them a fair review. I had some coupons from the SOB due to expire soon, but I wasn’t sure which one I wanted to use first. As I was passing BarCelona, I thought to myself, “you haven’t been there for a while,” so the decision was made.

The bar wasn’t very busy, so I took a seat at the counter with a nice street view and ordered a beer.

While I had my wallet out, I perused my coupons and decided that the 500 peso voucher was the most valuable one, and it was due to expire the next day. So, I finished my beer and headed over to Queen Victoria.

I had Susan sit with me to provide company during my beer-drinking mission. I met her years ago when she worked on the Arizona floating bar. Her daughter is the girlfriend of the Queen Vic owner. Yeah, if you are doing the math, that makes Susan well into her forties. That’s okay, I have no interest in anything but conversation, and she does okay in that regard. After successfully finishing my fifth beer, I sent Susan up to get my bill for her two lady drinks. I saw the manager talking to her, and then she returned with another beer “on the house.” I always appreciate the gesture, even though I felt obligated to buy Susan a drink while I enjoyed my “freebie.”

I had a “buy a lady drink get a customer drink” I also needed to use and decided that Whiskey Girl right across the highway was the right opportunity. It had been quite a while since my last visit, and I was looking forward to spending some time with my waitress friend Jen. Alas, I was informed she was not working last night. I went to use the CR and had to wait for some guy who was occupying the urinal. When he came out, I was surprised to see it was my old dart league teammate, Mark. It turns out he’s the new manager at Whiskey Girl. I didn’t see any likely candidates for a lady drink, so I just sat with Mark and watched the dancers practicing for Friday’s SOB.

After I finished my beer, I figured putting some food in my belly might be a good idea. Keeping with my unintentional infrequently visited theme, I went to the BBC cafe and ordered some fish and chips for takeout (yeah, I’d had enough beer and was going home).

Anyway, got my order and grabbed a trike waiting out front “going home now, sir John?” I still can’t figure out how everybody seems to know my name in this town. Still, it’s nice not to have to give directions on the ride home.

And then I saw this on Facebook and shared it to my timeline:

The capacity to be alone is the capacity to love. It may look paradoxical to you, but it is not. It is an existential truth: only those people who are capable of being alone are capable of love, of sharing, of going into the deepest core of the other person—without possessing the other, without becoming dependent on the other, without reducing the other to a thing, and without becoming addicted to the other. They allow the other absolute freedom, because they know that if the other leaves, they will be as happy as they are now. Their happiness cannot he taken by the other, because it is not given by the other. ~Osho

That resonated in my drunken brain for some reason. This morning I saw that my friend Jeremy had a contrary opinion. He left this comment:

I don’t think that equates at all. To say that the other person being in your life is meaningless is describing an aspect of a sociopath. The other person should have an effect on you, and you should be upset if they ever happen to leave because they had that effect on you. It shows that you cared for them, which shows that you’re human.

By the way, that’s a quote from a cult leader.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rajneesh

Maybe that’s why I’m living a loveless life then–I’m a sociopath. And all these years, I thought it was narcissism. Or bad luck.

Anyway, I’m plugging away and making the best of what I do have. Even on dull days like yesterday, I had a pretty good time. Thanks for letting me share it with you.

Well, I guess technically, every day is my kind of day; what other kind is there? Nothing really special occurred, but it was satisfying regardless. Let’s do a playback, shall we?

I guess a good place to start might be with what didn’t happen. I crossed the National Highway in busy weekend traffic several times and managed not to get run over. Hot Zone owner Jay posted this video of someone not so fortunate. Word is that he survived with a broken leg, but damn, it could (might?) have been worse. Of course, he was leaving the bar at 0130, so I suspect he wasn’t feeling any pain.

I began my day in the usual way: up at 0400, coffee, internet, feed and walk the dogs.

I also saw on the dog walk that yet another new house is beginning construction on my street. At least I’m far enough away from this one that I won’t have to hear the noise. Not that it matters since the four being built on all sides of my place ensure that peace and quiet are not in my immediate future.

I had a brief meeting with my future landlord later in the morning, and everything appears to be on track for me to move in around the end of March. I am so looking forward to that!

I modified my standard Saturday walk somewhat, given the delayed start due to my meeting. And when I had my steps in, it was lunchtime. Not so coincidentally, I finished my trek at Sit-n-Bull. When I saw the lunch specials, I knew it would be a blessed day.

I was so inspired after my leftovers luncheon that I actually walked home (I usually am lazy and take a trike). I took a nap, blogged, played some solitaire, then baked up a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies.

Facebook memories reminded me that it was one year ago that my love and I climbed the mountain together in Pundaquit. I sent her a message saying, “what a difference a year makes.” She didn’t take the bait, saying only that she would be at Snackbar later. But that’s okay; I’ve moved on. She may have been my destiny, but she’s not my gonna be (I had a girl that I just met actually say that to me once). Still, the words of John Greenleaf Whittier resonate: Of all the sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these–it might have been.

Life goes on, and so do I. Beer o’clock on a Saturday evening rolled around, and so I headed out. I didn’t have a specific plan in mind, but there are a couple of newer bars I still need to review. Or maybe I’d just visit the venues where I have coupons to expend. I decided to start at Snackbar and figure out what to do from there.

And in a very unusual turn of events, I got to Snackbar and never left. Thought about it a few times, then said, “one more beer.” One beer led to another, the lady drinks started flowing, and I finally figured wherever else I might go wouldn’t be any more fun than I was already having, so why bother? I got drafted into DJ duty again and got some positive feedback on my song selections from other customers. See, I’m not totally worthless after all.

I have some pretty strong evidence regarding just how entertaining the gals found my wit and witticisms.

In fact, we were talking last night, and I somehow mentioned that what Barretto needs is a nice beach bar that caters to expats. Heidi knew of one that was available, and the location sounds excellent for my imagined bar. The lease is 25,000 a month ($500), which to my mind at least, is doable. Granted, I’ve not crunched any numbers or done any background inquiries. It’s just a fantasy. That said, I agreed to meet with her this afternoon to take a look at the property. Everything is preliminary, but if I like the venue, I may look into seeing what the next steps would involve. Of course, I’d just be doing the financing–I’d need someone to actually run the place competently. Heidi says she can help me with that too. Hell, I probably spend five hundred a month in the bars; maybe I should spend it in my own place. So, we’ll see. The Rite Spot On The Beach. It’s got a ring to it.

My former love did make an appearance late in my visit. She was friendly and kind, just like she was to all the other customers. I’m nothing special now was the message I received loud and clear. What a difference a year makes, indeed.

I’d had all the fun and beer I could handle by nine, so I said my goodbyes and grabbed a trike for home. It was a good day, and I lived it without remorse or regret. I’d call that progress.

I was going to call this post “The best of all possible worlds,” but my archive search showed I used that previously. Those results also featured a post I wrote in October 2017 called “Should I stay or should I go” as I pondered the timing of my future re-retirement. Yikes! The Philippines life I had envisioned is not quite the one I’m living. In fact, it might be eerily reminiscent of the one I thought I was leaving behind. Maybe I haven’t progressed as much as I’d like to believe. Or perhaps this is as good as it gets.

Cause there's still a lotta drinks that I ain't drunk
Lots of pretty thoughts that I ain't thunk, oh yeah
Lord there's still so many lonely girls
In this best of all possible worlds

Wishing all my readers who celebrate the holiday a Happy Thanksgiving!

I tend to rant and rave and accentuate the negative aspects of my life here, but on a deeper level, I realize I’ve been blessed. As one commenter noted on yesterday’s post, being an old man back in the USA is a whole other level of boredom and misery. I may not fill my hours in any meaningful way, but I do find ways to enjoy myself, at least most of the time.

Take yesterday, for example. Started out with a challenging hike with the Wednesday Walkers group and ended with some fresh walnut pie a la mode. The fact that I was a drunken mess by then isn’t really all that important.

I bought 1500 pesos ($30) worth of food at Sit-n-Bull to feed the gals at Hideaway. The menu included lasagna, chicken wings, chicken fingers, and Shanghai lumpia. It being an early Thanksgiving celebration, I did something I very rarely do–bought all the girls working a lady drink. By the time I left a couple of hours later, my bar tab was 2500 pesos. But can you really put a price on a good time?

Speaking of Joy, Thursday is her normal off-day, and I was going to ask her to be my date for the Thanksgiving dinner party tonight. Alas, she told me (before I mentioned dinner) that there was going to be a brownout (scheduled power outage) in Barretto on Friday, so the bar was going to be closed. All the staff has that day off now instead of their regular schedule. Oh well. I did hear from a contrite Lydell later in the evening, and she agreed to join me for the feast tonight. So, I have a date!

I’ll have a full report on how dinner goes tomorrow. And food pics, promise!

Speaking of photos, here are a few from yesterday’s hike:

You can Relive the hike here if you are so inclined.

You never know which day will be your last day, so treat each one as the blessing that it is. I have much to be thankful for in my life, and I hope I have many more Thanksgivings to reflect on my good fortune.

I’ll leave you with this reminder of just how damn old I truly am–the best Thanksgiving song ever. Probably the longest too, but it’s fun–play it for background noise.

Another strange ending to a day that started off in full bloom.

So, I did the Sunday feeding at Hideaway as planned.

After having enough beers to catch a buzz, I decided to head to my side of town and visit the girls at Snackbar. Well, I had one girl in particular that I longed to see. Alas, she wasn’t working last night. So, I sent her a message, and she asked me how my day was. I told her the same as usual, walking in the morning, beer in the evening, and being lonely all the time. That was my silly attempt to tell her I missed her. Her response left me flabbergasted:

“Why don’t you find a partner so you are not lonely at night?”

What the hell? I thought that is what I was working on with her. Mind you, I’d been drinking some, but it still felt like an icy-cold rejection. So, I told her, thanks for letting me know. I’ll keep looking, then. She said she was sorry if she had hurt my feelings, and I told her I appreciated her honesty.

“I like you yes but im shy to tell you that. And im not really sure about my feeling to you i dont want to hurt you.”

All I could say in response was, “thanks for that.” And that’s where the conversation ended. Still, I guess I should be thankful for a kick in the nuts now as opposed to a knife in the heart later. And it was good of her to honestly share what she was feeling. I guess I’m a lucky guy, after all.

I went to the CR and took a piss. There was a mosquito on the wall.

Sat back down at my seat, ordered up another beer, and proceeded to get on with the rest of my life. Bought my waitress a lady drink and started thinking about Plan B.

Oh, well. Who knows what today will bring? Actually, I do. Catching a bus this morning for Pundaquit, where we are doing a special “outstation” Hash run. I love that area, and I’m really looking forward to the trip, even though there will be a mountain climb in my immediate future once we arrive. A full report on that adventure tomorrow.

Alright, about those flowers the title of this post alluded to–I devoted my morning walk to taking photos of some of the blossoms I encountered along the way. It was my standard Sunday Solo Stroll; I just kept an eye out for some of nature’s finest. Here you go:

Anyway, you can Relive the walk if you want.

Oh, I also made a reservation for Thanksgiving dinner at the Papagayo Resort hotel. Let’s see if I can find a date to join me.

Damn, I hadn’t thought of this song in decades, but if the shoe fits, you gotta wear it.

It used to be so natural
To talk about forever
But 'used to be's' don't count anymore
They just lay on the floor
'Til we sweep them away

And baby, I remember
All the things you taught me
I learned how to laugh
And I learned how to cry
Well I learned how to love
Even learned how to lie

You'd think I could learn
How to tell you goodbye
'Cause you don't bring me flowers
Anymore

Things don’t always go according to plan, even when you don’t have much of a plan to begin with. Last night should have been a good time, but I wound up sitting alone in a bar, feeling sorry for myself. I hear what you’re thinking: what else is new? Well, things got worse after that, so I drank more, and maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. I don’t know, still feeling blue today, but I’m fixin’ (man, those years down south left a mark) to put it all behind me and see if tonight turns out to be worth remembering.

As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, Paula, the Snackbar owner, was celebrating her birthday, and her loyal customers would help her make the day as special as she is. My initial plan was to show up around four, head to Alaska Club for the SOB at five, and then return to Snackbar afterward. But I changed my mind and decided to skip the SOB and just enjoy the birthday party vibe.

I arrived early, expecting I’d spend some time with Lydell, but she was otherwise occupied. I talked to some other folks, and then the tiny bar (most of which is seating outside at tables in the parking lot) began to fill up. I went to use the restroom, and when I returned, the waitress had seated several strangers joining me at my small table. Eh, I understand at a crowded event with limited seating, you can’t expect to have prime territory for your exclusive use. Still, interacting with strangers is not my nature, so I moved to a less desirable location. And as I sat there, my mood darkened until I reached the point where I didn’t want to be there anymore. So, I wished Paula a happy birthday again and left. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do next, but I knew it would involve beer.

As I approached Alaska Club, I saw people outside signing up for the SOB. I approached the table and saw that there had only been a dozen or so admissions so far, so I figured I could still get a good seat. I paid my 700 pesos and went inside.

My favorite spot was already taken, which was no surprise, but the waitress sat me on a small couch (big enough for two) along the wall in front of the stage. That’ll work. I usually have someone from the host bar join me for the event (I buy their company with lady drinks), but last night a customer brought all the Alaska girls down from the stage for drinks. That’s okay; I figured my regular Joy (the skinny one with no boobs and stretch marks) would join me after her team danced. She didn’t, though, and so I sat there alone. The storm clouds in my brain continued to darken. I tried to drown the discontent in beer without success.

When the show was over, I left Alaska and stood on the highway thinking, what next? Fuck it; I’ll go back to Snackbar. When I arrived, the party was still in full swing, but I was able to find a seat inside. Lydell had already left but came back when I messaged her, so I was finally able to buy her a drink. I was in big spender mode and bought drinks for several of the other girls as well. And I finally started feeling a little better about things.

And then a drunken guy I know (I’ll call him Earl) came in. He was being loud and obnoxious, which is not unusual for him when he’s been drinking. Earl hadn’t ordered a drink yet, but when the waitress walked by with a half-finished drink from another table, he attempted to grab it from her. I reached out and grabbed it first, and told him if you want a drink, buy one like everyone else. He tried to argue that it was just going to be thrown away, so why not. I told him it didn’t work that way. I guess the argument escalated, although I don’t recall what all was said; eventually, Earl left in a huff. The other customers applauded his departure, and several thanked me for intervening.

I left shortly after that, and when I got home, I saw that he had sent me some messages:

You a bitch

Fucking with me

Suck my dick ass hole

Dont be a prick towards me

Ill fuck you up Bitch

Be peaceful dick head

If you understand peace dick

Apparently, I pissed him off. He didn’t talk so tough in person, though. I sent him this response:

You were being an asshole. If you don’t like it, don’t be an asshole.

This morning I noted that he had deleted all his tough guy words to me. No apology, though. Fuck him; I don’t need that kind of drama in my life anyway. Normally, I can’t be baited into those types of confrontations, but it was just one of those nights for me for some reason.

So, that’s how my day ended. It started out much better with a hike in the Bolon Falls area out in the hills on the far side of Subic town. We only had three folks show up for the Friday group, so once again, Scott volunteered to drive us to some rarely-visited areas. We were last out that way over a year ago. A couple of moderate climbs and several get-your-feet-wet creek crossings, but still quite nice overall. We also passed through an Aeta (native Filipino) village, which I always find quite fascinating for some reason. Very friendly and smiling, despite living in abject poverty.

And it turned out to be the best part of the day.

A diamond of a morning
Waked me an hour too soon;
Dawn had taken in the stars
And left the faint white moon.

O white moon, you are lonely,
It is the same with me,
But we have the world to roam over,
Only the lonely are free.
–Sara Teasdale

I’d call last night’s dinner for two a success, at least by my admittedly low standards. I had no expectations, so I couldn’t be disappointed. That’s just the way I roll these days.

We had agreed to meet at Hops & Brews at six, but I arrived a little after five. Hey, I just wanted to get a couple of beers in make sure we had a nice table to sit at. Here are some views from the one I chose:

Once again, I was greeted by name by several of the waitresses. The manager also came by for a fist bump, and later the owner and I had a brief chat. They all certainly make you feel welcome here; I’ll grant them that.

I sent Lydell a message around 5:30 telling her I had arrived early, and she asked if she could join now. Of course! I was glad she was anxious to start our date too.

We had some beer and ordered our food–spaghetti bolognese for her, calamari and Yom tom soup for me. Sorry, Lydell had all my attention, and I forgot to take a photo of our meals.

Just some small talk over dinner, no great revelations or professions of undying love (thank God I kept those thoughts to myself!). I’m kidding, of course. I’m still in getting to know her mode, and I’m intentionally taking things slow. She did show me some pictures of her kids (a four-year-old daughter and a two-year-old son), and they looked cute and happy. They stay with her mother in Subic-town when she is working.

About the time we were done eating, an acoustic duo started playing their guitars and singing. Old songs I knew the words to and at a volume that didn’t deter table talk. A nice touch!

Anyway, I asked Lydell if she had any post-dinner plans, and she told me she was going back to work. I asked if she wanted to join me for an after-dinner drink at Voodoo (I had a coupon, and it was right around the corner), and she agreed. We did our drinks, chatted with one of the dancers there (I had a free lady drink coupon, too), then said our goodnights.

Lydell wasn’t able to join today’s hike, but I’ll see her later this evening at Snackbar. It’s the owner Paula’s birthday, and they are having a special event in her honor.

So, that’s the story of my first date with Lydell. It seems like she’ll be interested in a follow-up get-together too. Maybe I’ll cook for her next time. We’ll see.

As much as I always lament my lonely life, the reality is I’m not all that eager to let it go. As the Teasdale poem I posted above says, only the lonely are free. Still, it was nice to share a meal for a change, so I’ll just try and keep thinking with my big head and see what happens next.

Wish me luck!

I reckon Tuesday isn’t that much different from any other day in my so-called life, but I do take a day off from walking and spend that time shopping for groceries. The only blog-worthy news in that regard is that for the first time since the scamdemic began, I was permitted in the supermarket without a mask. Can sanity once again be on the horizon?

I guess the fact that prices continue to inflate is not a surprise, but I’m sporting a sore neck from all that shaking my head in disgust.

But it wasn’t all bad news:

I’d say things are bound to get better soon, but I’m just too pessimistic.

The day took a turn for the better when my mountain mama friend paid me a visit and gave me one of her special massages. I even managed to avoid a breathing attack at the end–barely. That’s progress.

I do sometimes wonder how much longer I’m destined to spend time among the living. Don’t get me wrong, other than the lung issues, as far as I know, I’m getting along okay for an elderly man. I’m still out there doing the things I enjoy, and I’m in no hurry to slow down. I wouldn’t even call it morbid curiosity; it’s more of a fleeting thought like, “how much longer can I keep this up?” I don’t even dwell on that beyond thinking “as long as I can.” Still, it is an inspiration to take each day as it comes and live it like there’s no tomorrow. Someday there won’t be.

Alright, enough of that depressing kind of talk! This gave me a chuckle:

A commenter asked about food at the Hash. Here’s what I had Monday:

Just in case you are worried that you’ve wasted precious minutes of your life reading this blog post, let me share this piece of valuable information with you:

Spent some time up on the roof at BarCelona yesterday evening with my pal Max. Hadn’t seen him for a while, so it was good to catch up. And the view up there is always nice too.

After BarCelona, we paid a visit to Alaska Club. I had a voucher to use, and Max hadn’t been there before. Hey, any excuse will do, right? Naturally, I invited my dancer friend Joy to join us. She was still tired from Monday’s pool party. I wasn’t able to attend that event because it conflicted with the Hash, but I saw some pictures, and it looked like a good time.

Max had to go, and my voucher was fully utilized, so I said goodnight to Alaska. Once on the street, I realized that my beer desire was not yet fully satiated, so I popped into Whiskey Girl and visited my friend Jen.

Home by a little after 8:00 and in bed by 9:00; seems I’m getting back on my old schedule once again.

It’s feeding night at Hideaway, and after that, who knows? Stop by here tomorrow for a full report.

Too much of nothing
Can make a man ill at ease
One man's temper might rise
While another man's temper might freeze
In the day of confession
We cannot mock a soul
Oh, when there's too much of nothing
No one has control.

Say hello to Valerie
Say hello to Vivian
Give them all my salary
On the waters of oblivion.

Here’s how it all went down. Started off with my usual Sunday stroll, with a couple of deviations.

As usual, here’s your chance to Relive the moment:

Back home for some napping, baking, and blogging. Saw this on the internet and found myself nodding in agreement:

This poem showed up in my Facebook memories, and it still resonates:

Now while my lips are living
   Their words must stay unsaid,
And will my soul remember
   To speak when I am dead?
Yet if my soul remembered
   You would not heed it, dear
For now you must not listen,
   And then you could not hear.
--Sara Teasdale

Anyway, I’m not dwelling on the past so much these days; making the best of what I’ve got is good enough. The cupcakes came out good, had to wait almost 45 minutes for my take-out order at John’s place, but then, I guess you can’t rush quality. Everything was delicious.

I also learned a new phrase in Tagalog: utang na lang, which loosely translates to “I’ll pay you later.” A Filipino customer said that when he couldn’t pay his bar tab. I guess he’s a regular and pays once a month or so. I tried it out, but I can’t take credit. They just laughed.

When I left Hideaway Bar, I walked all the way across town to Baloy road to visit the Snackbar. My favorite, Lydell, was there to greet me. Had a few with her and the other gals, then called it an early night (8 p.m.); I guess these past couple of days have been too much of a good thing.

Woke up early and rested. Even though it is Hash Monday, I decided to take a walk out to Baloy beach and back.

Not a bad little morning beach stroll. You can Relive it here if you like:

I’ll grab a nap, then get ready to Hash. That’s the way I roll.

A fun-filled day here in my little town. I pushed my tired old body to the limit and lived to tell about it. So, let’s get to it.

A small turnout for the Friday walking group, but we motivated ourselves for a longish (by my standards) 10K valley walk out past Naugsol. Mostly flat but wet in places forcing us to do walk-around detours.

You can Relive the hike here if that suits your interest.

An after-hike nap, shower, and blog post, then it was time to head out for my Friday night.

When I left the house, I was surprised to see a rainbow over the neighborhood. I wasn’t aware it had even rained.

The SOB competition starts at 6 p.m., and doors normally open at 5:00. This week’s event was at the Green Room, a bar that opens at 4:00. So I knew that an early arrival was going to be necessary in order to ensure getting a front row seat. I left the house a little before four but had to make a detour to see Joy at Hideaway, who needed some financial assistance. I had a quick beer there, then made my way back down the highway to the Green Room.

It was good that I made the decision to arrive early. I got my coveted table up front, but folks who came at 5:00 or later were relegated to less desirable seating. In fact, for the first time since the scamdemic, people were turned away at the door as the bar had reached maximum capacity.

Here’s what SOB host and bar owner (and occasionally one of my readers) Dave posted about the event:

A bit of background. Sons of Bacchus (SOB) is in it’s 20th year. We started in 2002 in Angeles City and migrated to Barrio Barretto, Olongapo, Philippines. Originally Dionysus was the Greek god of fertility. Later, he came to be known chiefly as the god of wine and pleasure. Bacchus is his Italian name.

Each week we rotate between 7 of the best bars in town. The 2 hour event features: All you can drink, two rounds of free food from Sit n Bull, a dance contest between the bars.

Here are a few pictures from last night’s event (also courtesy of the host):

Now, arriving early comes at a cost. Until 6:00, you pay for your own beers. Not to mention the lady drinks you provide also come out of your pocket all night long. I had two thirsty gals at my table, but no big deal; that’s why I always bring a little extra cash on Friday night. The real cost for me is imbibing more than usual and getting close to crossing the line between feeling good and being drunk. The Aftermath event was next door at Wet Spot, so I also attended that. My bedtime expanded somewhat in Cambodia, and that seems to have carried over with my return. It was after 11:00 when I hit the sheets last night.

And I woke up to another beautiful morning.

A long day, a long hike, and a long night at the bar. Might as well enjoy it all while you can. We’ll see what happens next.

Oh, I almost forgot. I came across this old song from when the Navy was here. Wanted to share it with y’all:

Ballad Of Subic Bay

I joined the Navy for sixteen years,
sailing the seas that brought me here.
For sixteen years I'm running loose,
for sixteen years, I'm a Seaman deuce. 

Horny sailors, all are we
for we must sail the seven seas.
One thousand miles we steamed today
to see our girls in Subic Bay. 

Silver dollar on my girl's breast, 
she's gone short time with Americas best.
One hundred men she laid today,
but only three in a normal way. 

Take me back to my old joint,
my ship is anchored in Cubi Point.
And that girl I use to lay,
she's now the mayor of Subic Bay. 

Silver dollar on my girl's breast,
an overnight, she does her best.
Of all the men that she's been with,
I'm the only one who caught that syph. 

I joined the Navy; I don't like it.
Sailing the seas that brought me here.
And every time I sail away,
I long again for Subic Bay. 

I long again for Subic Bay

Back in the saddle again, ridin’ out the days like there’ll be no tomorrow. It was boots on the ground for my regular Thursday hike, but it felt almost new again after my vacation.

You can Relive the trail here if you so desire:

I started out my evening activities at the Snackbar, where I handed out the last of my pasalubong.

I had an especially good time at Snackbar; lots of beers and lady drinks for the girls. We also played Uno, a game I hadn’t played for decades. Something a little different and a fun way to interact with the girls.

It was the last night for a “buy one, get one” coupon at Hot Zone, so I made that my next stop. The owner there, Jay, is a former Marine, and I’d forgotten that yesterday was the birthday of the USMC. The joint was packed with Marine buddies, and I felt almost like one of those “stolen valor” guys just being there. Had my two beers, said congrats and headed out. I visited Green Room next, then finished my night at Wet Spot. I had another nice chat with Daddy Dave, including discussing ideas for reestablishing a floating bar at Baloy. Stay tuned for further developments in that regard.

My sleep patterns are still a little disrupted, but it’s not like sleeping in until 6 a.m. has any real impact on my lifestyle. It was another beautiful morning here in paradise.

Facebook memories reminded me of those long ago days when my life had purpose and meaning.

Coincidentally, it is also one of my former employee’s birthday today.

And I would be remiss if I didn’t send a shout-out to all the military veterans who have served their country in war and peace. Thank you for the sacrifices inherent in defending freedom. Our nation owes you all a debt of gratitude.

That’s all for now. SOB tonight at The Green Room. Those beers ain’t gonna drink themselves. And maybe I’ll find my Elvira there. Giddy up!

Eyes that look like heaven, lips like cherry wine
That girl can sure enough make my little light shine
I get a funny feelin' up and down my spine
'Cause I know that my Elvira's mine
So I’m singin'

Elvira, Elvira, my heart's on fire, for Elvira
Giddy Up, Oom Poppa Oom Poppa Mow Mow
Giddy Up, Oom Poppa Oom Poppa Mow Mow
High-o Silver, away.

H is for hassle, headache, and/or hard. When I was a frequent traveler, I took some pride in being pretty savvy at getting the details right. This three-year hiatus and my deteriorating brain capacity have made preparing for next week’s trip more than a little challenging.

I guess because I had originally planned to go mid-month, the fact that I’m leaving in six days didn’t really hit home until yesterday morning as I was preparing for the weekly trip to the grocery store. I knew I had to go to immigration for my exit clearance but thought there was plenty of time for that until I glanced at the calendar and had an “oh shit!” moment. I needed to do immigration now, not later. So, I double checked the requirements for the clearance. Fired up the little used printer and got a copy of my flight itinerary. Had my driver stop at a local shop and had three 2×2 photos made. Filled out a long-ass form at the immigration office and then waited to be fingerprinted. Took about twice as long as the visa process. I have to go back on Friday to pick up my certificate of freedom.

Anyway, it was lucky I hadn’t delayed submitting my paperwork. There was a sign posted at immigration saying the office would be closed on October 31 and November 1. Yeah, All Saints Day is a big thing in this Catholic country. Had I missed my 72-hour window for processing, I’d have been screwed.

Still on my “to-do” list is applying for an online visa for Cambodia. At least if I fuck that up, I can wait in the visa-on-arrival line. I also need to purchase an onward ticket for when I return to the PI. Then there will be the e-arrival form and COVID test to complete while I’m in Cambodia. Show me a hoop, and I’ll jump right through!

It looks like things are going to get easier in the near future. I read today that President BongBong is lifting the indoor mask mandate (which only applied to certain places, like the f’n grocery store), and it appears the vaccination mandate for tourists’ entry is ending too. A little late for me, but about damn time.

Speaking of normal, the begging entreaties continue at a fever pitch. My mountain mama friend needed money for her electric bill (at least she was willing to massage for the money, but I wasn’t in the mood, so I gave her an “advance”). The downstairs part-time helper needed money for her boyfriend’s transportation to work. And then Joy chimed in wanting money for a medical test for her mother and a birthday cake for her sister. Frankly, that was the last straw and I went off on her. She was very apologetic and promised never to ask again. I eventually let go of my anger (but not the cash) and decided to forgive and forget.

Here’s the thing, I don’t mind being generous up to a point. I mean, I’m living on a pension but I have a charity budget. But I don’t like to feel I’m being taken advantage of either. I gave Joy money to buy a used refrigerator a few days ago and didn’t think twice about it. That fifty bucks meant little too me but made a daily difference in her life. But Joy is my “friend” only and I’m not expanding my charitble activities to take care of her mother and sister. They are not my responsibility and I resent even being asked. Hopefully, I’ve made that clear now. Rant over.

Started my evening yesterday with a haircut and since Blue Butterfly was practically next door I dropped in there afterwards. There were four or five girls seated in the outside area and I treated them all to dinner; and drinks for the one who was sitting beside me rubbing my thigh. Then I finished my night at Snackbar. I always have mixed emotions when I ‘m there and also have a hard time focusing on just one gal–so many nice ones to choose from. In other words, I wind up buying multiple lady drinks for multiple girls. I guess it’s a good deal for them. And I suppose that’s a form of charity, too. Right?

That’s the latest from here. Back tomorrow with a report on the Wednesday Walkers hike and my exploits on the town tonight.

Yesterday I received a Facebook message from my friend Dave, who has been back in the USA for several months. I don’t think I’ve we’ve communicated directly since his departure, but I do know he is scheduled to return here in November. So, it was a little surprising to get his message asking me to send his girlfriend (who I also know) $200 and that he would repay me next month. Knowing Dave, I wasn’t worried about him paying me back, and I assumed it must be some emergency, or he wouldn’t have reached out to me. So, I wrote back asking for Jo’s full name as it appears on her ID so I could wire the money via Xoom (the money transfer service I use). Dave sent the name, and I completed the transfer without further delay.

I told Dave the money was available for pick up at any of the usual money exchange locations; all Jo needed was her ID and the claim number. I was a little taken aback when, instead of thanking me, Dave asked if I would send it to Jo’s PayMaya account (it’s one of those e-money things) instead. I told Dave I had no idea how to do that, and he explained I could do it directly to her account through Xoom. Again, I wasn’t sure what this emergency was all about, but maybe Jo wasn’t physically capable of picking up the cash in person. So, being the good friend I am, I logged back into Xoom, canceled the original transfer, and resent the money to the PayMaya account. I advised Dave the money was sent in the manner requested.

Still no thank you, but a few minutes later, Dave told me the money had not yet arrived. I checked my email for the Xoom receipt and instead found a message from Xoom saying the transaction had been canceled for “security reasons.” I assumed that my canceling the original send and then immediately doing the second was the cause for their concern. I responded to the email explaining the circumstances and advised Dave we would need to wait for Xoom to approve the transfer.

In the meantime, I took a look at my Facebook feed and saw a post from Jack saying that if anyone got a message from him asking for money, it wasn’t legit. Yikes! Talk about a light bulb coming on–it was as blinding as my stupidity. I immediately searched for Dave’s name on Facebook and found both his real account and a newly created one–it was the new account I had been chatting with. Yep, the whole thing had been a scam, and I had stupidly fallen for it. If Xoom hadn’t flagged the second transaction, I would have been out two hundred bucks. Jesus.

It also explained why “Dave” didn’t want the standard wire transfer. He didn’t have the required ID with Jo’s name on it to pick up the cash. I guess a fake PayMaya account is just a number that no one can check. I sent my buddy Scott, who is also friends with Jack and Dave, a message giving him a heads-up. Scott was already aware of the scam, saying Dave had received a money request from Jack and had alerted him to what was going on. That scared me, and I’ve been checking Facebook periodically to make sure the scammer hasn’t created another account in MY name. So far, so good.

Oh, and Scott also sent me a message asking for a donation to his PayPal account: asuckerborneveryminute@gmail. Everyone’s a comedian these days. Or a scammer.

Here’s the lesson to be learned:

In other news, my solo Sunday stroll looked like this:

My Sunday evening bar crawl started at It Doesn’t Matter, then Green Room, Hideaway, and finished at Mugshots. No lady drinks at IDM, dinner from Sit-n-Bull at the Green Room, plus a game of pool (I actually won!). I hadn’t planned to do Hideaway since I’d done the feeding the night before, but Joy was hungry, so I brought some roast chicken from Chooks for the girls. Then when I was walking back to my side of town, all the new girls at Mugshots were seated outside, so I joined them for one last beer. No lady drinks, but I tipped the four of them 50 pesos each when I left.

It’s Hash Monday, and Leech My Nuggets is the Hare. That portends a challenging trail. Even harder for me because the trail begins at Barretto High School on Rizal Extension, a good long walk from my house. I’ve decided to throw caution to the wind and get there by going over the mountain instead of around it. That cuts down the distance, but I’m not keen on hiking in the hills alone. If I don’t post here tomorrow, send out a rescue party!

Almost forgot, today’s SOB video, The Queen Victoria team:

I guess my big accomplishment yesterday was booking my flight to Phnom Penh, Cambodia. I’ll be leaving on 1 November and returning on the 8th, a quick one-week journey. I couldn’t get a direct flight out of Clark in Angeles, so I’ll be making the dreaded trip to Manila. It’s only three hours in the air, and I’ll be arriving in Cambo just before midnight. The return trip leaves at 0200 and arrives back in Manila around 5 a.m. That’s a bit of a pain, but that was the only direct flight available. It’s on Philippines Air, so hopefully, things will go as planned.

It’s been almost three years since I’ve traveled anywhere, and what used to be old hat, like making plane reservations, was a bit more challenging than I remembered. In the old days, I’d look for cheap fares using Kayak, but now it would redirect me to companies I’d never heard of before, and I was loathed to put my credit card info out there on the internet. I wound up booking through Expedia since I know they are legit.

I still need to find a hotel, the one my friend who lives there recommended was already sold out. I will also have to get an “onward” ticket showing I’ll be leaving the Philippines within thirty days of my arrival. Yes, you can extend your tourist visa (which I’ve been doing for three years now), but you must show a flight out when you first arrive. I also practiced completing the online “e-arrival card” that is required of all passengers flying into the Philippines, showing their vaccination history. I’ll need to resubmit it 72 hours before my return flight, and since I’ve not had a booster shot, I’ll also need to get tested 24 hours before I come back.

Next up on my travel to-do list is getting my approval to exit the country. I guess they check to make sure I’m not wanted for any high crimes and misdemeanors. It’s a pain in the ass because I’ll need to get three 2×2 photos and take my passport, ACR card, tourist visa paperwork, and a copy of my flight itinerary to the immigration office no less than three days before I travel (then go back and pick it up). Nothing to be done but to do it all and be glad for the opportunity to see something new. Well, I’ve been to Phnom Penh once previously, but I’m looking forward to going back.

I attended a birthday party for two of the girls at Hideaway last night.

I stayed longer than usual and even participated in some of the party games. One involved a banana and another an egg, but the girls did all the work. I’ll leave it at that.

After leaving Hideaway, I saw Mugshots was open for business. Turns out they close on Wednesdays, which is what led to my confusion. Another change is that they’ve updated their business model to include bargirls now. One of them was sitting outside and called me as I walked past–she was the ex of the guy who is now dating my ex. Ah, the joys of small-town living! Anyway, I went inside to have a beer and check it out. It’s nice inside, and I think adding girls to the mix will help business. I’ll likely be back, although I don’t intend to get involved with the gal who is the ex–didn’t even buy her a drink last night. I like a no-drama lifestyle.

Continuing my trek up the highway, I saw yet another samgyeopsal restaurant had now opened.

I had a coupon, “buy a lady drink, get a free customer drink,” for Whiskey Girl, so that was my next stop. I sat in the back, away from the loud music, and Jenn soon joined me for some more snuggling and cuddling. She’s a little chubby, but I find her oddly attractive. She’s also forty years old with a sixteen-year-old son. Neither of those facts is a deal breaker for me. Her only day off is Sunday, and she spends it in San Marcelino (about 20K from here) with family. I’d kind of like to spend some time with her outside of the bar, but not sure about the logistics given her schedule.

It was after eight, and I should have been heading home, but instead, I decided to pop into Snackbar. I sat at an outside table with my hiking buddies and, of course, bought them all a drink.

There was live music blaring from upstairs. I asked what that was all about, and the girls told me a grand opening celebration was taking place. For what? A bar? I asked. Nope, a new restaurant. You guessed it, a samgyeopsal restaurant. Filipinos love that pork belly!

I didn’t stay long at Snackbar. I’d had enough to drink, and I have some personal issues there. I’ll see the crew on hikes and patronize bars that don’t leave me feeling unappreciated. Lots of those in town.

And a whole lot more to explore ten days from now in Cambodia! What a life.

Oh, someone posted videos from this week’s SOB contest. I’ll share one a day for any of you guys who want to see the performances. Here are the Champion Voodoo ladies:

Made it through another day in paradise. Started the morning with my solo walk out Naugsol way.

A few of the things I saw along the way:

When beer o’clock rolled around, I headed into town. I had a coupon for the seldom-visited Whiskey Girl to use, but they weren’t open yet when I passed by. I kept walking until I reached It Doesn’t Matter, so I visited there for the first time in over a week. Both owners noted my absence and welcomed me back. I was on my first beer when I saw an old crush (unreciprocated) was there, and we had a brief chat. A bit later, Jessa and her new guy Wes arrived, and we exchanged friendly greetings. That’s part of small-town living, I suppose, there is always someone around you know, and sometimes that makes you feel even more alone. I finished my second beer and departed.

I made my way back up the highway toward Whiskey Girl but decided having dinner first was a good idea, so I made Mango’s my next stop. When I entered, one of the waitresses exclaimed, “oh my, we were just talking about you!” I didn’t ask if it was something good or bad, but hey, it’s nice to be remembered. Pork chops were in stock, so I ordered me up some and took my customary seat facing the bay.

On impulse, I ordered some more pork chops for takeout and asked my waitress what side dishes I should get. She asked, “for a Filipina?” I nodded yes, and she said to get rice and veggies. So I did and told her, “enjoy your dinner.” She was both surprised and ecstatic. Well, that’s what you get for caring enough to think about me when I’m not around.

My hunger satiated, I moved on to Whiskey Girl. Took a seat near the stage and ordered the first of several beers (buy one, get one). There was a dancer sitting near me who was exquisitely beautiful. It was hard to keep my eyes off her full breasts that seemed destined to escape from the small top she was wearing. And those long legs covered by the shortest of skirts. One of the hottest gals I’ve seen around. Chatted a bit and learned she was twenty years old and has no kids. It was loud in the bar, and I could barely hear her, and she didn’t seem to follow much of what I was saying, but damn, she was easy on the eyes, and I kept her lady drink glass filled during my visit. Sorry, she was shy to be photographed, and this morning I don’t remember her name. Oh well, she is too young and too pretty for the likes of me anyway.

The gal on the other side of me was a waitress named Jenn I had chatted with on previous visits. Pretty much the opposite of the dancer on my other side, looks-wise, but also much more personable. She’s actually quite witty and fun to talk to. Guess which one I preferred?

I’m going to have to update my Whiskey Girl review. I had a lot better time there than I expected. The music they played may as well have been from one of my playlists; I liked every song. My only complaint was it was too damn loud, but next time I’m going to sit in the back, away from the stage and speakers. I never pay much attention to the dancers anyway. And yes, when I visit again, I’m going to focus exclusively on Jenn. I’d like to get to know her better. Who knew chubby girls could be such good snugglers?

It was only eight o’clock when I left Whiskey Girl, but I’d had enough to drink, so I caught a trike back home. Made a banana-mango smoothie, then hit the hay.

As days go, yesterday was a pretty good one. Which maybe will seem pathetic to some of you living full and meaningful lives. But it is what it is, and I’m in full acceptance mode. Things are better than they were and perhaps not as good as they will be in the future, but I’m living my life one day at a time and making the best of each one until they run out. That’s what I call progress.

This a rare morning post here at LTG, but I have a full day ahead of me, so I’m in “now or never” territory. I’ll be heading out to Angeles City in a couple of hours to participate in the ACH3 anniversary Hash run. Pubic Head and some of our Harriettes will be sharing the ride with me. Something different for my Sunday, and hopefully, we’ll all have fun.

Here’s how I filled those Saturday hours:

I did my usual Saturday morning Barretto street walk.

During my solo walks, I wear my headphones and listen to music on Spotify. The playlists are usually full of songs that I’m familiar with, but every once in a while, I hear something new that resonates with my current mood. Yesterday I listened to a John Prine tune called “Clay Pigeons” for the first time. Here’s the verse that made me say, “who wrote this?” as I walked along (yeah, I must have looked like a crazy guy talking to myself on the street):

I'm tired of runnin' round lookin' for answers
To questions that I already know
I could build me a castle with memories
Just to have somewhere to go
Count the days and the nights
That it takes to get back in the saddle again
Feed the pigeons some clay
Turn the night into day
And start talkin' again
When I know what to say

So, when I got back home, I looked at John Prine’s Wikipedia page and discovered that he didn’t write the song above; it was a cover version of the one written by someone named Blaze Foley, whom I’d never even heard of before. His wiki page revealed a life even more convoluted than mine–no wonder I liked his song!

But hey, there’s more to life than searching for obscure information on the internet.

Yes, I had to do my Sunday feeding last night because I don’t expect I’ll be back from my trip to AC in time to hit the bars.

One of my ex-girlfriends was at the bar with her new beau, and it was good to see her happy. I can’t help but lament how things might have been if I was better at being a boyfriend, but that’s the way it seems to go for me.

I also encountered my most recent ex at my next beer stop. We are on friendly terms too, but those wounds aren’t entirely healed yet. No real regrets; I wasn’t a good fit for her either.

Anyway, there’s someone for me somewhere. Or maybe not. This solitary life could be my destiny. God may be saying, “WTF, dude? How many chances do you expect in one lifetime? And oh, by the way, about that lifetime–it ain’t gonna last forever.”

But I’m living in the land where miracles do happen. Especially if you can afford to pay for them. Speaking of which, a girl I was plying with drinks last night was telling me all the right things. She either really likes me or she is really good at her job. We shall see.

Am I headed for bliss or for trouble? Time will tell, so stay tuned here at LTG!