But the symptoms I’ve experienced this morning are eerily similar to those I had when I caught the COVID last year. The first thing I noticed was feeling cold–I was actually shivering. I don’t run the aircon in my room, but I did have the ceiling fan and a floor fan blowing the air around. I turned those off and put on a second shirt. I felt dizzy walking into the living room, so I sat down and grabbed my thermometer–38.6 degrees–that’s in the fever zone. I went back to bed and tried to sleep it off but didn’t have much luck with that. In addition to the shivers and fever, I have no energy and feel completely lethargic. Whatever this is has hit me hard.

My helper, who is actually a certified caregiver, has been plying me with tea and feeding me various pills. I stayed in bed until noon, and now I’m sitting at my desk writing this post. I guess the drugs might be working because I just took my temperature again, and it is down to 37.6. Maybe it’s not COVID after all.

I was fine last night, maybe slightly inebriated at the end of my bar crawl, but that’s not unusual.

As I was sitting there enjoying my drink, I got a message from a restaurant waitress I’m acquainted with saying it was her birthday and she didn’t have a cake. She’s the sister of a friend’s girlfriend, and she said he had told her to contact me to buy a cake because he is currently out of the country. Yeah, it seemed a little shady, but on the other hand, I don’t mind helping to make someone’s day special. So, I left Hideaway and bought a cake at the local Goldilocks store. Got some ice cream to go with it too.

When I dropped it off, I got a weird vibe and not much of a thank you, either. It was a little off-putting, but I kept my word, and hopefully, she enjoyed the cake. Next year she’ll be on her own, however.

My next stop was Wet Spot, and of course, Aine was there to greet me.

I’m not sure what I said or did, but I somehow managed to piss her off. I’d just bought her another lady drink, and the next thing I know, she walked away from my table. I went to the CR, and when I passed the stage, she was up there dancing. Very weird. I paid my tab and left. I think I will find me a new favorite next time I’m in Wet Spot.

I made Queen Victoria my last stop of the night. Had a free drink coupon to use and then stayed for another. It was all pretty hazy at that point, but I made it home alive.

I did have some success on my grocery shopping excursion to the Royal supermarket. Fresh milk was back in stock, and for the first time in about six months, they had cream cheese frosting available. There is going to be a carrot cake in the near future.

Alright, I somehow managed to sit here and do this post without collapsing. Actually, with the fever down, I’m not feeling the waves of dizziness. I think I’m getting my energy level up a notch or two as well. Not nearly as lethargic as I was this morning. Maybe I’ll be “normal” again tomorrow. Or as normal as I get, anyway.

Having crispy crittered my lunch, I started my evening out in search of food. John’s place being on the other side of town, had the added benefit of getting in some extra steps (I wound up with 17,852/13.72K on the day). John has updated his menu to include his various steak selections:

I went with one of my favorites instead:

After my meal, I began a mini-bar crawl at Hideaway. I didn’t come prepared to provide any treats for the gals like I usually do, but then the Belgian chocolate guy showed up, so I bought some of his wares for the girls to enjoy.

My next stop was Sloppy Joe’s, a new bar I still need to review. I was the only customer there to take advantage of their buy one/take one drink special. It’s actually a great deal. Finished the second gin and soda, then moved on up the highway to Johannson’s. Another place I’m going to need to review soon. I was the only person at the bar (there were a couple of diners), but my pal Erik was walking by, so he came in and joined me. We had a little chat with our drinks, and then I got a message from Lydell at Kamto inviting me to buy her drinks join her there. Kamto, here I come! (I made sure I had my wallet in my pocket this time!)

As is my custom, I bought the three waitresses (Lydell, Heidi, and Rose) a drink. A bit later, Roseanne, the bartender at Snackbar who recently gave birth, dropped in. It was good to see her again, so I bought her a drink too. I commented on her weight reduction, and she noted that my belly was still as big as ever. Hey, I’m working on it!

I paid my tab, around 1200 pesos if I recall, and made Outback my last call of the night. I think I had two there and bought lady drinks for Bhel and another waitress. Then I caught the trike back home.

One of the items I purchased on my wasted trip to the S&R superstore was a half gallon of ice cream. Ice cream is not really on my diet, of course, and I’ve refrained from buying it on my previous trips to Royal. But when I saw this, I couldn’t resist.

And that’s the way my last night went down. It’s another SOB Friday, so I’ve got my work cut out for me tonight. See you tomorrow with a full report.

“Like attracts like. Just be who you are, calm and clear and bright. Automatically, as we shine who we are, asking ourselves every minute is this what I really want to do, doing it only when we answer yes, automatically that turns away those who have nothing to learn from who we are, and attracts those who do, and from whom we have to learn, as well.” ― Richard Bach

Thanks for the memories, Facebook. I posted that five years ago, and it hasn’t worked yet. However, Illusions is still one of my all-time favorite books.

Speaking of memories, today is my mother’s birthday.

It was also five years ago that we shut down our office on Yongsan Garrison in Seoul and completed the move to Camp Humphreys in Pyeongtaek.

Here’s one more blast from the past:

I’ve been in a contemplative mood lately. I’m not sure if this is a sign that I’m on the verge of acceptance of the way things are, or maybe it’s a surrender of what I’d hoped for and dreamed about. As empty and as shallow as my life feels sometimes, it is really not as bad as all that. I’ve had recent opportunities to dive back into a relationship, and I’ve balked. Seems it is easier to complain about what you don’t have than to give up the freedom the life I’m currently living brings. I’ll figure it out eventually.

I was playing a random “made for you” playlist on Spotify. And this song I’d never heard before came on and seemed to confirm my thinking.

I've been drifting on the sea of heartbreak
Tryin' to get myself ashore 
For so long, for so long
Listenin' to the strangest stories
Wondering where it all went wrong
For so long, for so long

But hold on hold on hold on 
To what you've got
So hold on hold on hold on 
To what you've got

I've been dreaming of a new tomorrow
And walkin' in the morning sun
For so long, for so long
There's no time for revolution
I've got to be travellin' on
Here so long, for so long

But hold on hold on hold on 
To what you've got
So hold on hold on hold on 
To what you've got

Anyway, it’s all good.

Speaking of good, that’s an apt description of the Wednesday Walkers group hike yesterday. Don’t believe me? Well, the pictures don’t lie:

I keep forgetting things. This just now happened:

Anyway, this is what I woke up to this morning:

I just need to focus more on the good, ignore the bad, and don’t screw the ugly!

Or more accurately, pissed on. I’ll get to that in a minute.

So, these last few weeks, I’ve really been besieged with requests for “loans” and financial assistance. Usually, the amounts requested aren’t that large–fifty bucks, sometimes $100, occasionally more than that. There is almost always an “emergency” involved–electric bill, rent overdue, no food for the kids. I try to be as accommodating as I can, but I also have to consider the source and enforce Rule #1 (don’t be a sucker). These “small” requests add up, and I do have a fixed income and try to live within my budget. In fact, these past couple of months, I have had to dip into my savings account, which I supposedly maintain for my own potential emergencies. This is my long-winded way of saying I need to toughen up and say “no” more often.

Yesterday, I received a message from “Jona” asking for a loan of 3500 pesos to pay her electric bill. She promised to repay me on the 25th when she gets paid. I’ve heard that line before, including from Jona, and in over four years of living here, I’ve only been repaid one time. I believe “loan” is the Tagalog equivalent of “gift.” Anyway, what especially rankled me about Jona’s request was that I almost never hear from her unless she wants something from me. That’s use and abuse, not friendship. I told her, “sorry, no.” I don’t expect I’ll ever hear from her again.

I also heard from Joy, who needed money to buy medicine for her sick child. She had told me earlier that the daughter was running a fever, and she was taking her to the doctor. She sent me a picture of the lab receipt and diagnosis of “blood infection.” Joy had spent all her available money on the doctor and didn’t have funds for the prescription. That’s the kind of request I’m not going to refuse. I gave her the 2000 pesos she needed, and she later sent photos showing her making the purchase at the pharmacy. Begging done right!

I say all of the above, knowing full well that I’m likely to spend more than the total of both requests buying lady drinks in the bars. Well, that’s a form of charity too, I suppose.

Speaking of the bars, I had my work cut out for me maximizing the use of the coupons I had won at the SOB on Friday. I actually started at Blue Butterfly because it was near the ATM, and I was waiting for Joy to claim her medicine money. When that transaction was completed, I moved on to The Green Room, where I had my most valuable coupon–a voucher worth 500 pesos.

I’m not a frequent visitor at The Green Room, preferring Wet Spot next door, so I didn’t know any of the gals working last night. I tried a little flirty humor with my waitress but she was pretty clearly not interested in anything I might have to offer. I also had a 10% discount coupon for Sit-n-Bull for food ordered in the bar. So, I ordered a chef salad and a pizza.

The previous time I was in The Green Room, the girls had been more aggressive in their pursuit of lady drinks. Last night I was still sitting alone when the pizza arrived, so I left it in the box, figuring I’d just carry it with me to the next bar I visited. Then I got a message from my pal Erik asking where I was, so I invited him and his girlfriend to join me for pizza, and they accepted. I was glad I found someone to enjoy the food.

In due course, the waitress advised that I had exhausted the 500 peso voucher (those gin and sodas aren’t cheap, especially the way I drink them). Another friend of Erik’s was at the bar, so they joined him, and I headed next door to Wet Spot.

The night before, when I was there after the SOB with the girls from Snackbar, I had invited my Wet Spot regular, Aine, to join us. She was very unfriendly, guzzled the drink I had bought her, and walked away. When I saw Aine last night, I confronted her about her rude behavior and asked why she had acted that way. “I was jealous.” Oh boy, that’s a red flag.

Anyway, I decided to be forgiving and allowed her to join me at my table. I’m not sure what got into me (well, other than a lot of gin), but before long, I had Aine and three waitresses imbibing at my table with me. That’s usually not my style. And then, I got a message from Lydell inviting me to join them at Kamto. Hoo boy. Well, it was still technically an hour before my bedtime, so I headed on up the street.

And it was a good time, from what I remember. A nice expat crowd, including Erik and his girl, Played some music, had some chats, bought a round of drinks for the ladies, and then I bailed out for home.

Now, I woke up during the night as I usually do, needing to take a pee. And that’s when I noticed, or rather felt, that I already had. Yep, I was sleeping at the wet spot, and not the good kind. It’s been a long time since I’ve pissed the bed. I think the last time it happened, I had dreamed I was standing at the toilet and woke up immediately when the wetness hit. I slept through the event last night.

Fuck, I’m turning into the stereotypical old man, it seems. Let’s hope this was a one-off event and won’t be repeated. What will I do if it does? It Depends. *ahem*

I’m going to treat myself to Sunday dinner at John’s place this evening. I might even go for a steak. Promised Joy I’d come by Hideaway, and it’s Rose’s birthday at Cheap Charlies. Looks like I’ve got my work cut out for me again. Oh well, someone has to do it.

Or at least pretending like I am.

One of the girls I know called me “lucky” the other day. I responded that I had worked hard all my life so I could be lucky. But yeah, I understand her point. I don’t have to worry day to day about paying for the essentials. I was blessed to be born in the USA, where you have a better opportunity to improve your circumstances through hard work, determination, and perseverance. And yeah, maybe a little luck along the way too. But I was born poor, well, I guess working class, in an upper-middle-class neighborhood. The kids all made fun of my hand-me-down clothes and the old run-down house we lived in. But it doesn’t matter how you start; it’s where you finish that counts. And here I am, living in paradise like a rich man. I’ll call that a win.

So, when I saw that chart above, I was curious where my full-time employee fit on the income scale: “low income but not poor”. Of course, that is based on salary alone, she also gets free lodging and eats on my dime, so I’d guess that makes her almost middle class. I know now that the salary I’m paying is way above normal for a domestic helper/caregiver. Still, she does good work and has been with me the entire four years I’ve lived here, so she’s worth it.

But as rich as I am, there are some things I just can’t afford. I was perusing the frozen meats at Royal supermarket yesterday and experienced a severe case of sticker shock when I saw this:

The signage says it is beef from Japan. I don’t know anyone who could afford to pay that price, in their right mind or not. And you’d have to be crazy to spend that kind of money for 14 kgs of meat. Something ain’t right. I’ll check again next week to see if they are still there or if the price has been changed.

The women I know all seem to recognize my richness. Another day, another request for emergency funding. At least the story last night was original and mildly interesting. And honestly, 5,000 pesos here and 5000 there do add up. I’ve been exceeding my charity budget these past few months, so I’m going to have to toughen up again and strictly enforce Rule #1 (don’t be a sucker). Wish me luck with that!

Luckily, I’ve got plenty of cash for my other nighttime pursuits, which primarily consist of alcohol consumption. I honestly don’t usually pay attention to the cost of an individual drink. I mean, if a beer is 60 pesos or 80 pesos, it is not that big a deal. But this new gin and soda routine has been shockingly expensive. What I’ve been doing is buying a shot of gin and a can of soda water. That allows me to moderate the strength of the drink and reduce the speed of alcohol consumption. In Blue Butterfly last night, my shot of gin was 90 pesos, and the can of soda water was 120 pesos. That’s more expensive than a lady drink, so I jokingly asked my waitress if I would be receiving a commission on my beverage. All kidding aside though, the difference between paying a buck fifty for a beer and over four dollars for a gin drink adds up pretty quickly. Still, I can afford it, so I’m not really complaining. Much. I do try to keep it in perspective by reminding myself that I was paying around seven bucks for a beer back in Korea. So, it’s all relative.

I met the girl who needed cash at John’s place last night. We shared an order of Korean-style wings. She had beer, and I had gin. When she finished her tale of woe, I told her I’d give her some cash the next day. Then she wanted to join me on my bar hop. I hadn’t been planning on that, and for some reason, it bugged me. I finally relented to the extent that I’d join her at Blue Butterfly, a place where she had previously worked.

When we got there, she was given a warm greeting by all the girls and the manager. I guess she had been a very popular member of the team. We had more drinks, and she asked me to buy one for the manager, and I agreed. I was taken aback again when she told me she wanted to be my girlfriend, and I kept rejecting her. That I seem like a nice guy, but I’m cold-hearted. I didn’t have much to say in response other than it just wasn’t a good time for me.

What’s weird is that she was the third woman this week who strongly suggested interest in being in a relationship with me. And despite my persistent whining here about being lonely, those feelings weren’t mutual. I’m not saying I’ll never give any of them a shot; it is just that something doesn’t feel right for me at this moment in time. Or maybe I’ve just made the transition to a solitary existence, and I’m not willing to give that up. It seems strange, though, and so unlike me.

I told my wannabe girlfriend goodnight and left her at Blue Butterfly with her friends. I had a couple more drinks at Cheap Charlies, then tried a new place up the highway called Sloppy Joe’s. They’ve expanded since my last visit to include indoor tables and several large-screen televisions. I sat outside to watch the world go by instead. They did have a nice buy one/get one promo with your first drink, so I did two for the price of one, then headed to the sanctuary I call home.

My deadline for leaving the country is rapidly approaching, and I will have to decide soon on whether to get jabbed. Stay tuned.

Rained throughout the night and into the morning, but ’tis the season. It didn’t stop me from walking today and won’t prevent me from going out tonight. A rich man has got to live large after all, right?

Just a quick recap of my more drunken interesting than usual Friday night.

I started out by dropping into my former haunt at Alley Cats. It was Billy’s birthday, so I brought her some brownies and a gift envelope. I stayed for two drinks, but the “cold shoulder” vibe I’d felt during my previous visit continued. I’m talking as much about the fellow customers as I am about the bargirls. Keep in mind this was my former hangout for over four years, and now I felt like a stranger. The good news is I don’t give a shit. If someone doesn’t like me enough even to be polite, I don’t want or need them in my life.

Since I decided to bail out early at Alley Cats, I still had time to make it to the SOB competition being held this week at Voodoo. My first visit there since I did the bar review last November. It’s a smaller bar, but there were still plenty of good seats left when I arrived. Since I don’t frequent this bar, I didn’t know any of the waitresses or dancers. I picked one dancer randomly to join me for some company during the show.

I was a little surprised when she told me she was 45 years old. That is the oldest dancer I’ve ever seen in a bar. Granted, she was still attractive, and despite having three kids, her body was in good shape.

She’s a touchy-feely kind of gal, and her friskiness in a public place made me a little uncomfortable. But the drinks were flowing, the show was going, and no one else was knowing. When the contest was over (Voodoo won), I said my goodnight to what’s-her-name and dragged my drunken ass out of the bar.

It wasn’t time to go home yet, though. There’s an event after the SOB called “Aftermath” featuring reduced drink prices and more discount coupons being raffled. It was being held next door at Hot Zone, so I popped in and drank some more.

Then things got a little fuzzy. Well, more than a little. I recall getting a text message from a female friend saying she had been waiting for a Jeepney home for a long time without any luck. I guess I invited her to join me at Hot Zone, and she agreed. And that’s where things go blank.

I woke up in the wee hours of the morning on my couch. That’s a first for me—no recollection of how or why I ended up there. I made my way to the bedroom, and my female friend was sleeping in my bed, fully clothed. I crawled in beside her and tried to go back to sleep, but I was kind of freaked out by the situation and my lack of memory as to how it came about.

My friend woke up around 4:30. According to her, I had invited her home with me, she had given me a massage, then I got up and fell asleep on the couch. Weird, that is so unlike me. I can see myself falling asleep during a massage but not moving to a very uncomfortable sofa. I can only assume that something happened that I don’t recall, and she isn’t telling me.

Anyway, she said she was ready to go home. I told her to wait a while; it was still dark outside. I offered to make her breakfast, but she insisted she wanted to leave now. It was raining too. I’m not going to make someone stay who doesn’t want to be here, but damn, I never walk these streets in the dark. But off we went, using my phone’s flashlight to provide a little bit of illumination. My unpaved shortcuts were out of the question under these circumstances, so it was a 15-minute walk to the highway. I brought Buddy along too. It wasn’t long before a Jeepney arrived and carried my friend homeward.

So, I brought a woman home, and she slept in my bed. And I didn’t. No sex or cuddling or anything. Well, I guess a massage that I don’t remember at all. And her insistence on leaving under the worst possible circumstances was mind-boggling. Something must have happened, but I have no idea what.

Oh, and she is still chatting with me like everything is cool and nothing has changed. And she sent a message that “next time” she’ll stay all day if I want. Huh? Why would I want there to be a next time when I can’t get my mind around the last time.

Weird shit, huh? I think I may need to recalibrate my plan to convert to gin and soda. Beer never made me lose my mind this way. Maybe having a big belly isn’t the worst option.

Shopping day, and even week to week I can see the inflationary impact on groceries, especially anything imported. On the other hand, I’m getting 55 pesos to the dollar; that’s the highest I’ve seen since I first started coming to the Philippines back in 2008. The lowest I’ve seen is 43, and I hope I never see that rate of exchange again.

After shopping, I had some lunch at Sit-n-Bull:

Facebook reminded me that it was four years ago when I got the call my lost Buddy had been found after going missing three days earlier:

I also came across this photo on Facebook and got a good chuckle:

I seem to be walking a different path, though. This TikTok video posted on the Althouse blog spoke to me in ways that seemed eerily responsive to my thoughts about whether I’m destined to die alone:

I guess there are worse fates. Oddly enough, when I woke up this morning, I had a song in my head called “The Loner.” It’s from Neil Young’s debut solo album released in 1969 (I was 14 then, if you are keeping track) and it was far from my favorite song on that record. In fact, I haven’t thought of it or heard it played in decades. Why I thought of it this morning is a mystery. Maybe I shouldn’t read too much into it.

There was a woman he knew
About a year or so ago
She had something that he needed
And he pleaded with her not to go
On the day that she left
He died but it did not show

Know when you see him
Nothing can free him
Step aside, open wide
It's the loner

Perhaps that’s my fate, but then again, everything can change in a New York minute.

Moving on, I may be alone, but I have a life, and part of that life involves drinking. I figured I’d spend at least a portion of my Tuesday evening on Baloy Beach. Last time I was out there at McCoy’s, they told me they didn’t have soda water. So on my way to the beach, I popped into 7/11 to buy a couple of cans, but they were sold out. Damn, well, I’m right next door to the Snackbar, and I know they have soda water, so I went in to get a couple to go. My friend was there and invited me to stay, but there was a Dick sitting outside, so I took a pass.

When I got to McCoy’s, the bartender pulled my regular beer out of the fridge, but I told her, “no, just give me a shot of gin. I brought my own soda.” She gave me a funny look and said we don’t have gin. I pointed at the bottle on the shelf, and she explained that is only sold by the bottle, not a drink. Ah yeah, the Filipino style is for a group of friends to buy a whole bottle and take turns doing shots. I should have known better. Well, I wasn’t going to break my diet, so I gave my soda water to the bartender and headed on up the beach to Johan’s.

I was the only customer in the place, and even a loner can be bored (it’s a regular bar, no bargirls). After a couple of drinks, I sent a message to my friend asking if the Dick was still at Snackbar. She said “yes, but he’s outside. Come inside and sit with me.” It seemed like my best option, so I walked on over.

I didn’t say anyting to the Dick when I walked inside. Sat down, ordered up my gin and soda, and chatted with my friend and her lovely staff of waitresses. Before too long, a couple of them started goofing around and dancing.

Anyway, as you can see, we were all having a good time. Inside at least. I don’t know what triggered it, but something happened, and the next thing I know, my friend was out in the parking lot yelling at the Dick. He wound up running away. When she came back in, she said he had been bad mouthing her to other customers. And not just her, one of the waitress played me a recording she had made of him trash talking about me. Of course, he didn’t have the balls to say anything to my face. A real Dick move. I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with the guy, but he clearly has issues. He was bragging to people a few days ago about being engaged. Why he would care about me spending time with the woman who rejected him is a mystery. I don’t really give a shit, though. Just someone I’ll continue to avoid whenever possible.

Anyway, we didn’t let it cool our buzz. I had ordered food for the staff from Kamto and it arrived shortly after the incident, and we all chowed down. When the food was gone, I finished my drink and headed home for my 9 p.m. bedtime.

And there you have a snapshot from my so-called life.

And so it begins, the first day of my new life. It will be much like the old life but with less beer, healthier eating, and additional exercise. I weighed in today at 213.4, and I want to get under 200 again. The real goal though is reducing a beer belly that makes me look eight months pregnant. I feel like a picture of me must have been circulated that started this whole ‘men can have babies’ lie. Sorry for that!

Started the morning with a good long group walk on the backroads out to Waltermart in Subic. I’ll post those pics tomorrow. As is our custom, the after-hike food and beverages were at Kamto.

Came home and took a quick nap, then started a new workout routine.

We’ll know soon enough if I have the self-discipline to keep this up and reach my goals. Stay tuned.

I took advantage of my last night as a “free” man to engage in some serious beer drinking. Started at IDM, where the weekly raffle was to raise funds for Mike, the guy who got hit by a car last week.

Reports I’ve read say that Mike seems to be making slow but steady progress. He still can’t speak or move his left side but is responsive to voices and will give a thumbs up to visitors. He’s got a long road ahead of him, but from everything I’ve heard, this Marine is not one to give up. Good luck to you, sir!

Later on, I spent some time with my favorites at Cheap Charlies. It’s nice to have fun in that bar again. I had more than enough beers by the time I headed home. I guess I’ll be missing those days soon.

But life goes on, and this is Friday, and today the SOB will be held at Wet Spot. I’ll be there drinking gin and sodas and hoping I can pace myself so as to make it through the show.

Wish me luck!

A rainy Wednesday, and only Martin and I had the gumption to get out and walk anyway. As it turned out, we only needed our umbrellas for a few minutes, but given the wet conditions, we stayed on flat pavement for most of our 8K journey. Photos at the end of this post.

A good meeting with my doctor(s) yesterday. As I mentioned before, Dr. Jo runs the clinic, and her American husband assists, although he is not licensed to practice in the Philippines. My bloodwork results were mostly positive; I was only above normal in two categories. My glucose came in at 6.66 (I’m such a devil!), with the top of the normal range being 5.83. My blood uric acid was also high at 0.87, above the 0.51 ceiling for normal. The docs agreed that my plan to reduce beer consumption and improve my diet would likely bring my high readings back down. I was happy to see that my liver function and diabetes numbers were still not a problem.

What I most appreciated was having a consultation that lasted almost an hour and resulted in removing two of my six current drug prescriptions. They also modified my nebulizer juice’s ingredients, hopefully improving my lung function. My other big issue is my chronic sinus congestion, and the docs said that there were better alternatives to try other than surgery. I’m down with that. So, we’ll see how things go, but I’m happy to have found physicians I can trust right here in Barretto. Oh yeah, the visit and the juice for my nebulizer cost me a whopping 3700 pesos ($75).

At the conclusion of my appointment with Dr. Jo, it was beer o’clock, so I went to work. I’d promised Joy at Hideaway Bar a visit, and my custom of late is to provide the girls with a bite to eat. I stopped by Sit-n-Bull and got an order of lasagna for Joy and some chicken fingers and lumpia for the rest of the crew. They all seemed happy with their chow, but it did cost me a bit over 1000 pesos. Wouldn’t normally be a problem, but I hadn’t adequately filled my wallet for both a doctor’s visit and a night in the bars. Didn’t have my ATM card with me either, so my style was going to be a little cramped.

After a few beers at Hideaway, including a freebie from the owner, I headed up the highway for Cheap Charlies. It seemed like a fitting place to be given my reduced spending power.

I was keeping a mental tally of the total cost of my beers and lady drinks, and when the time came to stop spending, it was only 7:30. Damn, that is too early, even for me. In checking my nearly empty wallet, I saw that I had a drink coupon for The Green Room right across the street. I’d buy one and get one free, then head on home.

Except things didn’t work out that way. My two Green Room regulars joined me as soon as I sat down. I explained my situation and told them I could get them each one drink with no tip or no drink and 100 pesos each instead. They both wanted the drink even though the commission was less than my proposed tip. They told me they have a drink quota, and failure to meet it results in a reduced salary. Good to know, and I guess that explains the desperate pleas of “buy me drink” in some bars.

The CR (comfort room/restroom) is next door in the Wet Spot bar. I said my goodnight, then went to take a leak before catching a trike home. As I was leaving Wet Spot, I spotted Daddy Dave, the owner, at the “backslappers” table. I asked him if they accepted credit cards, and he told me that was not a problem. First time I’ve ever used my card in a bar (most don’t take them), but desperate times call for creative measures. I was peacefully enjoying my beer when I spotted Aine walking past my table. I hadn’t seen her since throwing a party for her 40th birthday at the bar. The same night she told me she had met someone and would be leaving the bar to be with him.

She didn’t see me as she went by, and I didn’t call out to her. I was definitely surprised to see her, though. I guess someone must have told her I was there because she showed up at my side a few minutes later. “What are you doing here?” I asked. She sat down and told me the common tale of the bargirl: the customer makes big promises, and they all turn out to be lies. She seemed to be taking it all in stride, so I invited her to sit down and bought her a drink. And later, another one after Daddy Dave sent me over a free beer. I called him out for his timing; since I had a fresh beer, I needed to buy Aine another drink. Well, that’s why Dave is a successful businessman, I guess.

Truth be told, it was nice spending some time with Aine again. Sorry things didn’t work out for her and that guy, but better she finds out sooner than later that he’s a liar. She’s been around long enough to know how that game is played (and maybe she’s played it herself, as far as I know). Anyway, the SOB is at Wet Spot this week, so I’ll see her again on Friday.

Here are a few photos from the Wednesday Walkers hike:

That’s all I have from the hike.

It’s the end of June and my last night of beer in the bars for a while (at least the month of July). I’ll still have a few on Hash Monday since there is no other option. (and no, not drinking at all is NOT an option).

See you next month!

…on the road to better physical and mental health. I had blood work done with my new doctor yesterday morning, and I’ve got an appointment this afternoon for the results. It took Dr. Jo three jabs to draw enough blood because my veins kept “collapsing.” Of course, I’d been fasting and was a little dehydrated, which probably explains it. Anyway, my vital signs are trending in the right direction again (BP mid-130s/80 and resting heart rate under 70), so I’m happy about that. I want to get her advice on what to do about my chronic nasal congestion. Hopefully, I won’t need the surgery recommended by another doctor. We’ll see.

On a whim, I decided to reach out to a woman I tried to court several months ago who declared she wasn’t interested in having a boyfriend. I told her I was still interested, and she responded she’d been lonely too and asked what I had in mind. I told her I was hoping for a companion to share some adventures and good times. She indicated that was something she’d enjoy as well.

So, “Judy” ticks all the boxes: late 30s, no kids, not a bargirl, loves to travel, into physical activities like hiking, and enjoys a beer now and then. No wonder I find her so attractive! And the possibility she might be interested in a relationship with me was especially exciting.

Ah, but then came the caveats: She’s planning on moving to Europe next year. She would be happy to share some companionship but doesn’t know about a love relationship. Her work schedule keeps her busy every night (she does online recruitment from the USA), and she sleeps during the day, so her only availability is on weekends; she asked if we really needed to label it “boyfriend and girlfriend”–couldn’t we just be friends with mutual interests, and oh, let’s keep the relationship secret because her parents are very conservative.

Okay, then. We are going to have dinner sometime this weekend. Think I’ll take her to John’s Steak and Sushi place. Looks like I’ve made a friend, at least. I’ll have to keep searching for someone to love me.

But life goes on, and so do I. A break in the rain, and I headed out to McCoy’s for some beachside beer drinking. The bartender there (an older woman) commented on how lonely I looked. Well, she didn’t comment; she started singing the “I’m Mr. Lonely” song. I just shrugged and told her that there are worse things than being alone.

The rain returned with gusto, pounding down on the tin roof and making further conversation difficult.

When the storm briefly broke, I headed up the beach to Da’Kudos. More beers and some chicken fingers for dinner.

After finishing my food, I caught a trike back to Barretto. I decided to check in with Bhel, my bartender friend at Outback. The place was very busy; not even a seat at the bar. I sat at a small table, and the waitress served me a beer. Bhel was too busy to do more than greet me, so I finished my beer, paid my tab, and crossed the street to Queen Victoria. Took a barstool and ordered up another beer. The staff was friendly and welcoming, but no one there I cared enough about to talk to. So, it was two beers and out.

It was still too early to go home, so I walked up the highway to Snackbar to finish my night. The girls there are actually a lot of fun, and I had a good time chatting and goofing with them. My friend from Kamto sent over some nachos for us to enjoy.

The only thing better would have been having a girlfriend tagging along with me. One of these days!

Thunder only happens when it's raining
Players only love you when they're playing
Say... Women... they will come and they will go
When the rain washes you clean... you'll know, you'll know

Just one of those nights, I suppose. Or maybe one too many. I was once again disappointed to observe that the people around me were not really my friends. But mostly, I was disappointed in myself for foolishly trying to believe otherwise. I ought to be smarter than that by now.

So, I had been looking forward to attending Jerlyn’s birthday party at Alley Cats. With my ongoing darts hiatus, it has been a couple of weeks since I last visited the bar. Jerlyn had sent me a message asking me to come to her party, and I felt good about that. I baked up a batch of my brownies that the girls always seem to enjoy and also stopped by Kamto to get some chicken takeout for the party.

I arrived at Alley, handed the food to Jerlyn, and wished her a happy birthday. She thanked me and then left to add my contribution to the food table. She was gone for a while, but when she finally came by my table, I offered her a lady drink. She curtly told me she already had one. Alrighty then.

I sat back quietly sipping my beer and observing the goings-on around me. It was Saturday evening, and so the regular dart crowd was in attendance. Billy asked if I was playing, and I told her no. Annabel asked if I would sponsor her entry fee, so I gave her the 100 pesos she needed to play. I’d been coming to Alley Cats at least a couple of times a week since moving here. People I’ve known over these past four years, with just a couple of exceptions, didn’t have a thing to say to me, not even a welcome back. Yeah, I felt like a stranger in what used to be my home bar. I did wallow in some self-pity, but mostly it was an eye-opener to realize I meant next to nothing to these people.

The birthday song was sung, the candles were blown out, the food was served buffet-style, and then the tournament began. Jerlyn never returned for the drink I had offered her, and my beer bottle was empty. I had prepared an envelope with a 1000 peso note as a birthday present for Jerlyn. Feeling peeved, I discreetly replaced that bill with a 500. Yeah, I can be a vindictive dick like that. No wonder no one likes me. I handed her the envelope, she thanked me, and I left.

Well, that didn’t go as planned. Had been looking forward to a good time with “friends” and left feeling borderline depressed. Luckily, there were other places I could go to self-medicate. I had a couple of “buy one, take one” drink coupons for Alaska Club, so I made that my next stop.

When I arrived, Karen, the waitress I had been crushing on, was at the door to greet me. I sat down at a table near the stage, and Karen brought me a San Mig Zero. Then she disappeared. That’s okay; I had already given up on her. I was interested in getting to know the dancer I had met at the SOB the week before. And sure enough, Marissa was one of the four gals on stage. I couldn’t get her attention, though, because she was busy trying to play with her phone when bar owner Jerry wasn’t looking. There was just me and one other customer, so I guess she figured doing her job wasn’t worth the effort. Her loss, because one of my coupons was for lady drinks. In a fit of pique, I called down one of the other dancers to drink with me, turning my back on Marissa forever. Silly girl.

Needless to say, my mood hadn’t improved much. I decided to try and change my luck at Outback. Bought my bartender friend Bhel a drink, exchanged greetings with the new waitress, and watched some music videos on the big screen TV over the bar. I was feeling bored after a couple of beers and decided to see what was happening up the road.

Walking past Kamto, I didn’t see anyone I knew, so I kept on going until I reached Snackbar. They weren’t busy either, but I enjoyed the “friendly” company of the waitresses. At least they put some effort into earning their drink commissions. And laughing at my bad jokes must be hard work! I guess all those beers were starting to kick in, or maybe it was pretending that these lovely young ladies actually liked me, but my mood had improved considerably. Then I got a message from my friend at Kamto expressing a desire for my presence, so I walked the one block back up the highway. Waitress Lyndell joined me (both places have the same owner, and the staff moves back and forth as needed) and even held my drunken hand as we walked. That’s sweet.

I stayed up an hour or so past my bedtime drinking with the Kamto crew and had a pleasant time. But my judgment was not impaired to the point of doing anything I might regret later, so I grabbed a trike for home.

The VFW event was all about increasing awareness of our veterans who suffer from PTSD and other service-related psychological disorders. I was surprised when I was told they were not accepting donations; that wasn’t the purpose of the gathering. Well, glad to step it up for our vets on my first ever “rucksack hike.”

We were told the trail was just under 6K and mostly flat. Sounds about my speed, and in fact, I found it to be no challenge at all. Left the VFW, went up to Alta Vista, down to Marian Hills, then back the way we came to the VFW. I walk that loop all the time, so it was pretty dull. I didn’t bother returning to the VFW, I just stayed in Alta Vista on the way back. I had that disastrous party to prepare for.

Here are a few pics:

And that was how my Saturday went down. I’m letting go of the bad feelings, keeping a positive attitude, and recognizing that I’m in control of my life. If there are aspects I’m not satisfied with, it is on me to make any necessary changes. It’s all going to be fine.

Then again, on the other hand:

Now here I go again, I see the crystal visions
I keep my visions to myself
It's only me
Who wants to wrap around your dreams and...
Have you any dreams you'd like to sell?

Or probably more accurately, slowing its decline. Then again, maybe I’m the exception to the rule. These musings were triggered after I read about a study showing that regular walking can grow the brain’s white matter and improve memory. Well, the study did say “brisk walking.”

I joke around about cognitive decline and becoming more and more Biden-like, but I do sense that I am not as sharp as I used to be, and I am increasingly forgetful. I guess there are worse fates, I just can’t think of what they are right now, so I’ll forget about it.

Still, I’m doing alright for an old man in decline.

Life is not always goodness and light around here, though. My house was invaded by this monster today:

I hate spiders. With a passion. This is the first one of these I’ve seen in all the time I’ve lived here–at least indoors. I thought about letting him live, but I squashed that idea because I knew I wouldn’t sleep well, wondering where he might be hanging out, maybe even under the sheets with me. Nope. One of us had to go, and I killed him first. No guilt or remorse. You come into my house uninvited; you suffer the consequences.

That’s the kind of excitement I don’t need in my life. I’m hoping for the better kind at the SOB dance contest later today. We also did a very nice hike to the best waterfall I’ve seen since moving here. I’ll share those stories tomorrow.

Even on my “off day,” things were a little off. I decided to change up my shopping routine and start with a visit to the Puregold grocery store. Sometimes I can find things there that aren’t always available at Royal. So, the plan was Puregold, then go to the ATM at the nearby BPI branch for my weekly supply of cash, and then complete the shopping excursion at the old Royal store. Except halfway to the SBMA (the former Navy base), I realized I had forgotten to put my ATM card in my wallet. Well, shit. We had gone too far to turn around and get it, so the cash withdrawal would have to wait. I don’t carry my ATM card except when I intend to use it because if my wallet got lost or stolen, I’d be screwed. I’ve got a backup credit card, but the ATM is my source for the cash I need to buy lady drinks essentials. The day before, I had forgotten to put on my Fitbit smartwatch after my shower, so all those painful steps on the Hash trail went undocumented. Is anybody noticing a trend here?

After unloading the groceries, I had my driver drop me at the BPI in Subic town (it’s on his way home). I remembered my ATM card this time but forgot to bring my headphones so I could listen to music on the 5K walk home. Oh well. Early in the journey back to Barretto, it began to sprinkle some raindrops. A trike driver offered me a ride, but I declined. Shortly after that, another driver encouraged me to let him take me home, noting that it was going to rain. I again politely said no, thank you. My resistance was wavering, and I told myself I was taking it if I got another offer. A trike passed me on the highway a few minutes later, and the driver called out, “Barretto?”. How could I refuse? When I got in, he said he had seen me walking the streets often. I still can’t get over how many trike drivers recognize me. Some of them even know me by name, which I can’t figure out–I never say my name to the driver, just “Alta Vista.” Anyway, it was my day off from walking so I didn’t feel too guilty about aborting the hike home from Subic.

Later in the afternoon, I headed out to Alley Cats for the darts tournament. Damn, it seems I’ve also forgotten how to throw darts. I don’t recall ever being so consistently off target. It’s actually a little embarrassing. I just can’t figure out what has gone wrong. Something is off with my mechanics, or maybe it’s all in my head. Hmm, that would explain it! Anyway, it sucks to suck at a game I used to be pretty good at. The fact that I’m not motivated to practice and try and work my way out of the slump tells me it may be time to take a break from playing for a while. I’m not having fun right now, so what’s the point?

Oh, and the Dick came in and hung out with some friends at Alley Cats too. First time I’d seen him there. He’s not worth the energy to give a shit, though. And there is some comfort in knowing I’m not the biggest loser in the bar.

After darts, I crossed the highway to Mango’s and sat down at the beach bar. The sun was already down, but I still enjoyed watching the lights on the bayside as I sipped a cold beer. I ordered up some dinner too.

One last beer at Outback on the way home, then I hit the sack at my regular time to give my feeble brain some much-needed rest.

And now it is another Whacked Wednesday. Did a walk this morning I’ll write about tomorrow. Now, it is time to get ready for dart league. It’s the last match of the season, and I’m really glad about that. I’ve agreed to be an as-needed substitute next season, but that’s more than enough for me.

I need a vacation.

While I was walking yesterday, I passed two old men engaged in a game of chess. I’m not sure why, but it triggered a chain of thoughts on what life is really all about. I suppose it is no great insight that so much of our time on earth is nothing more than filling in the hours of every day. The manner in which we do so pretty much defines who and what we are. During our working life, a goodly portion of the day is filled with earning a living. Having a job or career that is satisfying makes a difference, but feeding the family has its own kind of worthiness, regardless of whether you like your job or not. It’s those other hours outside of work or sleep that give meaning to this thing we call life.

As I said, nothing new or astounding in these thoughts, but I did look back at how I’ve lived those hours. I recalled as a youngster playing board games like Monopoly and Risk. I also learned to play chess, but that was never a passion. As a teenager and young adult, I was big-time into softball and racquetball. And, of course, there were those years when I escaped into a drug-fueled fantasy world. I learned to ski, liked to camp out, and take cross country drives. The responsibilities of being a parent took their share of time as well. It was nice to look back and reflect on ways I’ve filled in time throughout my life.

Naturally, that led me to thinking about how I spend the hours in my old age. I don’t really ponder so much about how having less life ahead of you than behind you matters or makes each hour somehow more precious. Retirement affords the opportunity to expend time the way you want rather than dancing to the whims of your employer. The question arises, though, am I using them wisely? As my regular readers know, I spend my days engaged in walking, drinking, darting, and pursuing ill-fated romances. I guess I spend a fair amount of time here on the internet as well. Hopefully, as the scamdemic draws to a close, I’ll be able to once again invest some time in travel adventures. Is that enough? It is for me, at least for now.

That doesn’t mean you can’t change things up now and again. The desire for something new led me to forego my typical Saturday night in Barretto. Instead, I walked the 4K out to Calapadayan for the soft opening of a new outdoor bar called Poseidon. Heh, you knew I wasn’t going to not drink beer, didn’t you?

It was definitely a nice change of pace. Too far out to be a regular stop for me, but I had a good time and won’t hesitate to drop in when I’m in the area.

Alright, I’m running out of time. Need to get to It Doesn’t Matter before the raffle. I’ll be back with more tomorrow!

I needed a cash infusion yesterday, and I also needed exercise after my lazy Saturday, so I hoofed it on out to Subic town and raided the BPI ATM there.

It was a hot hike, and almost all of it was on the National highway, my least favorite place to walk. You need to be prepared to dodge a lot of traffic, an eclectic mix of cars, Jeepneys, trikes, and scooters at a moment’s notice. Not much beauty to be seen there either, but I did my best to find something worthy of a photograph along the way.

And then, towards the end of the walk, I received a message from God.

I began my Sunday evening at It Doesn’t Matter. I once again purchased six raffle tickets for 500 pesos. During the drawing, I was pleasantly surprised to have my name called three times; each prize was for bar discount coupons at various venues around town. One of them was at IDM–500 pesos off my bar tab. So, I basically got the money invested in the raffle back, plus some “buy one, get one” bargains to be enjoyed. I’d call that a win!

After the drawing, I moved down to Wet Spot to have a chat with the gal that had professed her love for me. She wasn’t there when I arrived but showed up about thirty minutes later. As soon as she saw me, she took off and hid somewhere in the back. That seemed like rather bizarre behavior, but it was also nice to have her reveal the true nature of her character. Or at least to demonstrate that her definition of “love” does not translate in my world. I did wake up to this message from her this morning:

Sorry about last night.. sorry also about your broken heart.. i understand you not ready for a relationship for now.. i just feel a little hurt. Maybe i just forget my feelings for you.. but hope we can still be friends though.. like we used to sit together and laugh and joke lang.. see you again next time.. take care john

I wasn’t all that gracious in my response, telling her that I had come to talk and better understand her feelings. And that her behavior had given me the understanding I needed, and I thanked her for that.

Apparently, I was on some kind of roll because, for some unfathomable reason, I messaged my ex and asked how she was doing. She responded that she had seen me walking in Subic and called out to me, but I didn’t answer. I told her I had been wearing my headphones and jokingly added that I had been singing love songs to her as I walked. She sent one of those laughing emojis in response. And that’s where the conversation ended. In sober hindsight, I know that’s for the best. I’m likely still vulnerable enough to get sucked back in with the slightest encouragement from her. I’ve taken a vow to never again initiate contact. Maybe I’ve learned my lesson this time.

I didn’t stay out late last night because I had dinner cooking in the crockpot–a pot roast.

Feeling energetic this morning, and so did a 5K Baloy Beach walk, despite the fact that I’ve got a Hash coming up this afternoon.

And that’s where things stand as of now. See you tomorrow with a Hash report. In the meantime, here’s a flashback to the 1970s you might enjoyed. Is it any wonder I’m so fucked up?

I got bit by the lazy bug yesterday. Despite my good intentions, I couldn’t even be bothered to take an abbreviated morning hike. Not good for my weight reduction goal, but I did at least take a longer than usual walk this morning to try and make amends.

And I wasn’t just lazy in regards to exercise. I rarely hear from my Wet Spot gal when I’m not with her at the bar, but yesterday she sent me this message:

Hi, babe morning.. i see you tonight is that ok? We don’t have to go anywhere else for our date but to your home.

I declined her offer, telling her I wasn’t feeling well. I guess she didn’t like that.

You not sweet when you are sober ..see how you are

I told her I was sorry she felt that way. It was nothing personal, just not feeling up to it.

Is that all you can say? …i know you not feeling well but its boring answer john

I told her I was sorry to be such a disappointment and that I appreciated that she wanted to see me, but there was really nothing else I could say at the moment.

Hmm.. Ok i leave you alone now.. Hope you feel better soon.. Love you..

I didn’t respond to that, but I was admittedly taken aback by the “love you”. I had to wonder why? Other than spending a few hours sharing drinks in the bar, we’d never been together. I’m not even sure we have any common interests (other than drinking); I know she is not into hiking, for example. On the other hand, she is attractive and wants to be with me–that’s more than I get from most of the women in this town. It gave me some food for thought while I went about my Saturday night bar hopping. I did, however, intentionally avoid Wet Spot.

I also heard from Jane, the Date in Asia girl I took out a couple of weeks ago, broadly hinting that she was bored and would like to see me again. Again, I had no interest in going out on a date with her for whatever reason.

After several drinks in various locations, it occurred to me that I’m really not interested in a relationship with anyone at this point in time. Oh, I mean, a gal like Lyn who wants to go hiking with me would be nice, but she is stuck in Angeles with her kid. Just doesn’t seem meant to be. I’m going to continue to embrace this singlehood life of mine and be happy with it. Not closing any doors, but I’m not willing to settle for less than what I want either.

During my walk this morning, a Michael Nesmith song came up on my playlist, and it seems to capture pretty much what I want to say to my pursuers.

Well you and I
Travel to the beat of a different drum
Can't you tell by the way I run
Every time you make eyes at me

Yes, you cry and moan
And say it'll work out
But honey child I've got my doubts
You can't see the forest for the trees

Now don't get me wrong
It's not that I knock it
It's just that I am not in the market
For a girl
Who wants to love only me
And I'm not saying that you ain't pretty
All's I saying's that I'm not ready
For any person place or thing
To try and pull the reins
In on me

Well I feel pretty sure
That you'll find a man
Who will take a lot more than I ever could or can
And you'll settle down with him
And I know that you'll be happy

So goodbye
I'm a-leavin'
I see no sense in you cryin' and grievin'
We'll both live a lot longer
If you live without me

Maybe I’ll go to Wet Spot tonight and sing it to her.

So, to the rest of my Saturday night in my cozy little barrio.

When supper time rolled around, I headed on up the highway to John’s place.

My friend Joy, who works across the street at the Hideaway bar, messaged me that she was hungry. I dutifully delivered her an order of Korean-style chicken wings. She shared with her co-workers, and everyone seemed to enjoy them.

I decided to finish my night at the Alaska Club. When I first arrived, I was once again the only customer. That’s a little concerning for a Saturday night. There were five dancers on stage, and I was in the process of picking out my favorite when a big spender and his entourage arrived. He promptly called all the dancers down for lady drinks. I felt both relieved and inspired, so I bought the three waitresses a drink. Now everyone was happy. I know I enjoyed telling all my old jokes to a new crowd.

Who needs a girlfriend anyway?

Althouse has an interesting post about embracing the mundane and appreciating the life we have. Apparently, this is a trend with roots in the pandemic that continues to be promoted in TikTok videos and mainstream publications like the NY Times.

 ‘You have to start romanticizing your life,’ the narration begins. ‘You have to start thinking of yourself as the main character. Because if you don’t, life will continue to pass you by. And all the little things that make it so beautiful will continue to go unnoticed. So take a second, and look around, and realize that it’s a blessing for you to be here right now.’…”

Anyway, I appreciate the sentiment, even if it seems pretty obvious. I mean, I’ve had a starring role here at LTG for going on seventeen years now. Still, sometimes it all seems so pointless, and you have to step back and look hard to realize how much joy can be found in the seeming meaninglessness of daily life. Or so I keep telling myself. At least I’m not alone in those thoughts.

Here’s one way to be the star of your life (it’s funny and short, give it a watch):

Here’s what’s happening here in my world (or should I say the center of my universe?):

After darts, I did the dinner at Sit-n-Bull thing.

After my meal, I stopped by Queen Victoria.

Finished my night at Outback, where I think my friend, the bartender, and I have put aside our differences.

The morning hours featured a nice hike with the Friday walking group. We took a Jeepney ride out to Calapadayan and walked back to Barretto via Naugsol. It looked like this:

What do I have to complain about?

There are always going to be good days and not-so-good days in life. My yesterday fell somewhere on the lower end of that spectrum. Not bad or tragic, but not altogether enjoyable either.

It started with my morning walk. I was doing my standard 8K streets of Barretto walk. It was hot, and I began feeling a little light-headed early in the hike. I’ve also been experiencing some lung issues, so I took a couple of squirts from the inhaler I always carry in my pocket. It didn’t seem to help much, but I plodded on. Finally, at about the 6K mark, with the climb back up to Alta Vista still looming, I gave up and caught a trike home.

I’m not sure what is going on with my health these days. My blood pressure has been in the 140s/80s range for a couple of weeks now. I used to be in the mid-130s or lower. My resting heart rate is up from the mid-60s to the low 70s. I have had some shortness of breath problems, not just on the hikes but even in bed at night. I use my nebulizer daily now when it used to be just a once in a while thing. Might be time to schedule a doctor’s visit.

I started my regular Thursday evening bar crawl at Hideaway bar, on the other side of town, but I needed to get some of the steps in that I missed on my aborted morning walk. I had a large pizza (Hawaiin with pineapple, sue me! it’s what the girls like) delivered. Yeah, feeding the hungry is part of my mission in the bars, doncha know? I’m continuing with my gin/soda and using beer to slow down my intake of the hard stuff routine. I probably need to slow down some more. I had three gins before I finished my first beer. And then the owner sent me over a free beer which I, of course, politely accepted. Joy and her pal Jen had the barstools on either side of me, and I was naturally plying them with lady drinks. Oh well, it’s all part of the fun, I suppose.

Finished my freebie beer, then headed out. Next stop, Cheap Charlies. My, how times have changed. There was one big spender who had half a dozen girls drinking with him. Good for them! Two of my regulars were also busy with another customer. I was drinking alone (which does save money) when a bargirl I see infrequently sat down beside me. I engaged in a little small talk, and then I asked her to get me another drink and to get a lady drink for her. She brought me my drink and then disappeared for ten minutes or so. When she returned, she still didn’t have a drink, and I reminded her I had offered one. She told me she had something to do and then walked away again. I looked later and saw her sitting by the cashier, playing on her phone. Well, okay then. Never had a bargirl reject my offer of a drink before, but there’s a first time for everything, I suppose.

I let it bother me a lot more than I should have. I honestly don’t mind drinking alone. But to be ignored entirely (I had to get up and order my second beer) was irksome, especially when I recalled all those recent times when I’d been the only customer and felt sorry enough for the girls to buy them all a drink and some food. It just seemed disrespectful somehow. Of course, I’ve always known that the bargirls aren’t really my friends; their job is to pretend that they are. Some of them are pretty damn good at it, too. Anyway, the masks were off last night. Even my two regulars ignored me after their customer was gone. So, that’s fine. I’m not sure if, or when, I’ll be back to Cheap Charlies. I do know I will not be buying any lady drinks there in the future.

Life moves on, and so did I. I crossed the street for one of my rare visits to Hot Zone. I was the only customer, which was pretty surprising. Several very attractive dancers were on the stage. Jay, the owner and former Hash Grandmaster joined me at my table. He then called all the dancers down who were braless to join us for a lady drink (he paid, not me). Only one girl was left on stage; I guess she has motivation now to lose some of her underwear. I bought my friendly, smiling waitress a drink before I left.

I finished the night at Wet Spot being snuggled by Aine. It was nice to be next to another great pretender. I ordered her some nachos as a reward.

And yes, if that’s as bad as things get around here, I’m certainly living a pretty charmed life.

It’s a new day, and I started mine this way:

And speaking of “B’s,” I made a batch of these to take to Alley Cats when I play darts later this afternoon:

I nebulized before the hike this morning and did not experience any issues on the trail. It was still hot, though. Pictures from that adventure will be posted here tomorrow. See you then!

I never really had a plan for life, I just reacted to it. Whenever I reached a crossroads, I chose a direction and followed the road without a clue as to where it might take me. I guess it is natural to wonder about the paths that would have led to a different life, but you only get to live the life you chose. No mulligans. But I have been extremely fortunate and blessed. The roads I have taken have led to some great adventures and life-altering experiences. A fool’s luck perhaps, but even though I could never have imagined what my life would turn out to be, it has been a very nice ride. So it is time to look forward again. And it will be an adventure with an uncertain outcome for sure.

I originally wrote that on New Year’s Day 2005 as I contemplated my future life in Korea. I quoted it again in a post I wrote on my last day in Korea. And here I am on the eve of my fourth year in the Philippines. Things haven’t exactly gone the way I imagined they might, but things are good enough for a fat old fuck like me.

Speaking of fat, I’m kicking off a plan to try and lose some of this belly. It’s so out of control that one of the female Hashers blurted out last night, “I can’t believe how big your stomach is!” Ouch. I checked the scale this morning, and it registered 216.1. Yikes. My goal has always been to stay under 200 pounds, but 215 is my redline. Looks like it’s time for some lifestyle changes. At this point, I’m not planning to do anything really extreme. Obviously, I need to cut WAY back on my beer intake. And at the grocery store today, I showed the self-discipline to avoid buying my usual weekly gallon of ice cream (1/2 vanilla, 1/2 rocky road). The problem is when I drink all that beer and come home. I seem to lack the ability to refrain from eating ice cream like there is no tomorrow. I always have an excuse–eating a bunch tonight is no more calories than eating a little over several days–but obviously, that’s just wishful thinking. So, less beer, fewer sweets, more exercise, and maybe skip a meal most days. That’s the plan anyway.

The big news around here is that the Philippines has elected a new President: Ferdinand Bong Bong Marcos. If that name sounds vaguely familiar, it’s because Bong Bong’s dad was the infamous former president/dictator. Ferdinand Sr. even puts Hillary to shame, holding the Guinness World Record for the largest-ever theft from a government. He won in an apparent landslide, so I suppose the age-old question of which old saying: “you can’t judge the son by the sins of the father” or “the fruit doesn’t fall far from the tree” is correct.

Alright, let’s get to yesterday’s Hash. I wound up doing a long and solitary trail. It was my choice to do it that way. I hate riding in the Hashmobile, so I opted to walk the 3.3K to the trailhead from my house. The Hares, Leech My Nuggets, and Fuck A Duck had a long and a short option. I took the shorter 5K version. When I reached the start, I decided not to wait for the other Hashers to arrive and set out on my own. I won’t usually hike in the hills when I’m unfamiliar with the terrain, but Leech always makes a well-marked trail, and I knew if I got into some kind of trouble, the other Hashers were only thirty minutes or so behind me.

I’m adding additional photos from the Hash page as usual. Mine are especially boring this week since I was the only Hasher in sight.

The liquor ban was still in effect, so we all stayed longer than usual at the On-Home (we usually pack up and head out to a local bar for some post-Hash drinking. It was odd to be stumbling home in the dark, but I made it without incident.

And that was my Monday.

It turns out the locals don’t call me the cookie man after all. I had two different “customers” thank me for the biscuits yesterday. Who knew?

In the first case, I got a message from a Facebook “friend” named Jenny that I’ve never met or talked to (yeah, I’ve got lots of those for some reason) saying she had seen me hiking in San Isidro. Jenny also mentioned seeing me giving biscuits at the house across the street from her. Her daughter wanted to know why the Kano (foreigner) didn’t give her any. I explained that the kids across the street from her were my regulars and that it was also my last bag of cookies.

Anyway, we wound up chatting, and she seemed pretty nice. She told me she did house cleaning and laundry and wanted to know if I needed any help. I explained that I have a full-time helper already. Then I said half kiddingly that I could always use a massage (yeah, I had been scrolling her FB photos, and she looked pretty good). Somewhat to my surprise, she agreed to come and do a massage. So, I arranged to meet her near her place and show her the back way into Alta Vista.

At the appointed time, I headed down the hill and was most of the way to her place before we met on the road. Oh my, Jenny was much heavier than her photos had led me to believe! Well, not that it mattered. After all, this was just gonna be a massage. Okay, maybe my little head was disappointed, but that’s often the case of late. So, after a brief exchange of greetings, we headed back up the hill to my place.

The total distance from where we met to my house is just under one kilometer. Granted, a lot of it is uphill (it’s a 30-meter climb). But between there and here, Jenny had to stop and rest at least a half dozen times. I was shaking my head in disbelief that anyone could be that out of shape. In fact, I asked her if she was a smoker or had lung issues. Nope, just not used to walking, she said.

Anyway, we finally made it to my humble abode. Jenny had some water and rested up a bit, and then it was time to get to work. She gave a decent massage, but nothing special. And nothing even approaching “inappropriate” touching, let alone a happy ending. And that was fine by me. When it came time for me to pay, I handed her 1000 pesos. She was surprised and said, “that’s too much!”. I was surprised because I’d never heard a Filipina utter such words. She was right, of course. The same massage in a parlor would have cost me less than 400 pesos. Still, it was Mother’s Day, so I just told her to keep the change. I also gave her a bag of biscuits to take home to her daughter. I then walked her back down the hill to make sure she’d make it home okay.

Since I’d forgone my morning walk for the unsatisfying massage, I decided to take the long way home. I regretted it almost immediately because it was frickin’ hot in the midday sun. By the time I reached the National highway, I’d had enough. I was also hungry. And there across the street sat the local Jollibee franchise.

And yes, like the wimp that I am, I took a trike home. Hey, I didn’t want my food to get cold. Yeah, that’s my excuse!

So, today is election day in the Philippines. Foreigners are not supposed to involve themselves in national or local politics, so I won’t. I’ve heard a couple of people complaining that they hadn’t received their 1000 pesos for voting. Yeah, that’s right. Candidates here can pay people to vote. Upon reflection, I guess that’s more honest than just stealing the votes like they do back in the USA.

That liquor ban doesn’t directly apply to foreigners, but establishments that want to sell booze to tourists and expats have to apply for an exemption. I guess it is a bureaucratic hassle because most bars just said “fuck it” and closed. I walked from one end of Barretto to the other and didn’t see anyone openly selling my beverage of choice. Remembering my lockdown days experience, I visited a certain hotel bar that had been my speakeasy. A brief chat with the manager, and I was good to go. My San Mig Zero was served discreetly in a coffee mug. Tasted good just the same.

Several beers later, I heard from a friend who advised a certain beach bar on Baloy was serving foreign customers. I was ready for a change of scenery, so I hoofed it on down the highway. As I walked on Baloy road, I noticed one of the resorts had a bar full of people drinking beers from bottles, so I guess they must have gotten the exemption permit. The beach bar hadn’t, but no one seemed to care. We were drinking openly there too.

It was while I was imbibing at the beach bar that the second biscuit coincidence took place. When I had been walking out on the Govic highway, I encountered a youngster I had seen before in Barretto. She walks the streets selling lumpia to bar patrons and the like. I had bought from her recently to feed the bargirls at It Doesn’t Matter. She usually has her two young sisters with her as well. I’m not sure how old she is, but I’d guess twelve or so. Friendly and sweet, and when she smiles, she reveals a mouthful of broken and rotting teeth. It’s actually kind of sad, but I do respect that she’s out there earning what she can rather than begging. Anyway, when I saw her and the sisters while hiking, I naturally gave them a bag of biscuits. And then yesterday, there she was at the beach bar with her basket of lumpia and sisters in tow. She gave me that big smile and said, “remember me? You gave me biscuits”. I told her, of course, I remembered and asked her if she had walked all the way to Baloy from her home in San Isidro. “Yes, sir.” Wow. That’s quite a hike, probably 4K one way. I bought her and her siblings a coke, and they went on about their business. What a life!

After a bit, I decided to walk on up the beach and see what else might be happening on election eve.

Turns out Da’Kudos was also openly selling alcoholic beverages. Naturally, I wanted to reward their good intentions, so I stopped in for a couple more before calling it a night and heading home.

It’s Hash Monday, so I won’t have to go looking for an open bar tonight. We are doing the On-Home at the Hare’s house right here in Alta Vista. Look for a full report on those events tomorrow.

Now, I don’t want to give the impression that my life revolves around beer. But these memes speak to me somehow:

Anyway, it’s all good. Glad to still be in the game.