Category Archives: The story of my life

A seven-year ache

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Today is the anniversary of my retirement and move to the Philippines seven years ago. If things go as I hope they do, I’ll celebrate my 70th birthday later this year. So, there is no denying that I’m in the midst of the final chapter of my life, and I hope to make the most of it. I don’t recall having any real expectations when I made the move, and although I’ve had my share of disappointments, I don’t have any regrets about the decision to make the Philippines my home.

I still spend a lot of time dwelling on the past, which may not be a healthy thing to do, but in a weird way, remembering what I was, and what I had and lost, and all the things that led me to this moment in time are sometimes painful, yet somehow comforting. I can’t adequately describe the kaleidoscope of feelings looking back brings me, but I almost feel as if I’m in an afterlife and seeing my past lives from an otherworldly perspective. Perhaps this is my purgatory.

I wrote a post about my final day in Korea here. In that post, I quoted something I had written in January 2005, before changing my world forever when I decided to leave my American life behind.

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 reckon that is as true now as it ever was. And it occurs to me that I’ve been blessed with a multitude of lives within my lifetime. Here are some of them off the top of my head:

  • My California life
  • My Arizona life
  • My Oklahoma/Arkansas life (I lived on both sides of the border)
  • My South Carolina life
  • My Virginia/DC life (lived in Virginia, worked in DC)
  • My Korea life
  • My Philippine life

And within those lives, there was a multitude of others: growing up, working, parenting, four marriages, and other relationships and adventures. At one time, I began to explore some of these in a series of posts here called “One Lifetime, Many Lives”. Perhaps I’ll find the motivation to complete that effort before I die.

Anyway, nothing else to do but hang on and see what happens next. In the meantime, here is the first post I wrote after arriving in the Philippines. I had to smile at the mention of Jessa, who worked at Treasure Island, where I stayed my first few days. We did wind up dating briefly, but I managed to fuck it up. We are still friends, though, and I’m glad for that.

If you are a regular reader, you know my life is not much more than daily walks and nightly beers, with some occasional travel in the mix. I’m sure it gets boring to read about, but I enjoy it. One of my goals when I moved here was for my presence to make a difference in some small way for the less fortunate who surround me. I feel good about some successes I’ve had in that regard. My biggest project in terms of cash outlay is supporting a widow with three kids born to an American father who couldn’t be bothered with securing their citizenship before he died. I also sponsor a student in Bohol who regularly makes the Honor Roll at his school and, hopefully, is destined to escape the poverty of his family’s life. I am also helping Maria, the gal I dated briefly when she was eighteen, as she attends college. I’ve got a full-time helper who has been with me from the beginning of my time here and earns a generous living wage. And of course, I’m supplementing the salary of bargirls through the generosity of the lady drinks I provide. Hey, every little bit helps!

And there you have my anniversary reflections and the rare LTG post with a semblance of substance.

Tomorrow is election day here in the PI, and Filipinos are not allowed to consume alcohol starting today. Most Barretto bars are open for the foreigners they cater to, but I moved my Sunday routines to Saturday just to be on the safe side.

I did the feeding at Hideaway, even though they are open today (closed tomorrow). Then it was off to the floating bar to meet Swan.

The beach was not nearly as crowded as it had been the past few weeks.
Only one other customer besides Swan and me.
The sun upon arrival.
The sun a couple of beers later.

We got hungry and impatient waiting for the sun to put on the endo of the show, so we headed back to shore.

From the beach, we got to see the rare rising moon…
…and the setting sun sharing the same sky.

Then, it was off to John’s place for some dinner. Once again, we shared:

Tasty beef bulgogi…
…and surprise, surprise, birria tacos.

After our meal, we stopped at Red Bar for a bit, then finished the evening with a nightcap at Wet Spot.

By the way, I didn’t forget about the Saturday Sweet Stroll, but how much more can I say about that weekly event that you haven’t seen or heard numerous times? Well, there was this:

Nothing special about this tree; it was just my first attempt at pinning something on Google Maps.
And there you have it. Now what?

I also did a video clip of the final neighborhood on the Saturday Stroll:

As my trek through the archives of LTG continues, I came upon another anniversary, or should I say, blogaversary. The third year of my blogging efforts was in December 2007. Sadly interesting were the comments of wife #3 and my step-daughter, Avery. One more episode in The Story of My Life.

Facebook memories for today:

Four years ago, I knew what the ignorant were denying.
Five years ago, I was calling out the Nazis who were revealing themselves during the scamdemic. I had one now former friend disclose the location of a speakeasy I’d found where I could enjoy some beers during lockdown. The fucker recognized something in the background of a photo I posted, and named and shamed the venue. What a cunt!
Seven years ago, I left the 8th Army Headquarters building for the last time.
Also, I flew business class seven years ago to my new life in the Philippines.

Today’s YouTube video takes a slightly different twist on the reasons why the Philippines attracts expats. As I was searching for where I might spend my retirement years, I ultimately chose the Philippines for two reasons: the friendliness of the locals emphasized in this video, and also, that English is commonly spoken here. The cost of living is another positive, although I disagree that most hospitals provide quality and value. I’m glad I found an excellent doctor I can trust, though.

And bad humor is better than none, or so I keep telling myself:

Damn, I hate when that happens!
My wife #3 said the kidney stone hurt more than childbirth.
Lifting those twelve-ounce weights every day helps.

And now to get on with year number eight. It occurred to me that Swan won’t be able to drink in any of the open bars. She suggested I have some “me time” tonight, so I reckon that’s what I’ll do. I’ll let you know how that works out tomorrow.

My last Hash

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Until next year. Anyway, not a bad day on trail. We left Alta Vista and took the back way through the hills to the start of the Hash on Rizal Extension. From there, we did a steep stair climb almost to the top of the Kalaklan Ridge, then meandered through the woods to the On-Home at Tiny Cunts house at the far end of Rizal Extension. The problem is getting back from there after the Hash. My solution was to leave at the beginning of the Hash circle and walk back down the road before nightfall. That worked out just fine, and we chilled at It Doesn’t Matter until it was time to call it a day and head home. Here are a few photos from the adventure:

Heading out, I came upon the proverbial fork in the road. I didn’t take it.
Arriving at the meet-up
Let the climbing commence!
First cookie delivery of the day
On and on we climbed the uneven steps
The steps were done but not the uphill climb
If a tree falls on your roof and no one is there to hear it, does it still make a sound?
Through the woods we go
Nature’s litter is much more pleasant than the human kind
Two options: Over or under the barbed wire.
I guess whoever was building here got tired of the climb and said, “fuck this!”
On the level
Weird to see Christmas wrapping paper discarded out in the wilderness
Walking the wall
The Rizal Extension portion of the hike
A little over 5K from start to finish

Hash Monday is a difficult day to stayed focused on the diet plan.

That second helping of pudding put me over the top. Hey, the New Year is coming. I’m resolved to do better!

I was born in 1955 and I’m still booming like there is no tomorrow:

Why yes, yes we are!

And next time I visit Korea, you can call me Kang, Gun Hyo.

Today’s installment in The Story of My Life comes from my brief reflections regarding my final day at work back on December 30, 2010. My big insight on that day was this:

But I’m going to make sure this is merely the transition time between adventures.  Or go crazy.  One of those.

Four years later, I revisited those musings in a post called It’s the inevitable let down at the end of a great adventure and shared this epiphany:

Maybe I am crazy, but it occurs to me now that life is always just one big transition.  I suppose that state of perpetual transition might on occasion include adventure.  More often it just hurts.

Back then, I didn’t have a clue about the heartbreak that would befall me the following year. And that ultimately led me to a new life in the Philippines. The only way to find out what comes next is to live it. I’m going to keep at that task for as long as possible.

Now at last I have come to see what life is,
Nothing is ever ended, everything only begun,
And the brave victories that seem so splendid
Are never really won.

Even love that I built my spirit’s house for,
Comes like a brooding and a baffled guest,
And music and men’s praise and even laughter
Are not so good as rest.
― Sara Teasdale

At least I’m not a loser like the one in today’s YouTube video. Get a grip, dude. Yeah, I dislike things about the PI (primarily litter and noise), but the good far outweighs the bad. If I didn’t think that was the case, I would get the fuck out, not post whiny-ass YouTube rants about it.

Laughter helps:

You can’t tell by my posts, but I do care and I am at least trying to do better.
I worked at Blinky’s Pizza in Westminster, California, back in my high school daze. And yes, we kneaded the dough. The bread they paid me was minimum wage.
And that’s why I could never be a doctor…

So, today’s post is coming to you from Mope Beach Resort in beautiful barangay La Paz, San Narciso. I didn’t have a plan for this; I just wanted to welcome the New Year by doing something different. So, we packed our bags and had the driver drop us down the road after grocery shopping. And here we are! I’ll let you know how it goes down tomorrow.

The story of my life

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It was twenty years ago today when Long Time Gone was born into the blogosphere. What a ride it has been! Of course, things seldom go as planned, but I had no clue at the time that the journey I was about to embark on would completely and irrevocably change everything and lead me to places beyond my wildest imagination. In my “do-over” afterlife fantasy, there are many things I would change, but making the move to Korea and leaving my vanilla American life behind forever is not one of them. Here’s what I had to say twenty years ago in my first blog post, “And So It Begins”:

I’m moving to Seoul, Korea. Although the general consensus among family and friends is that I’ve lost my mind (which I don’t necessarily deny), this is something of a calling for me. One of my biggest regrets in life was not serving in the military. My father and two brothers are Army vets. My daughter is currently serving her second tour in Afghanistan with the 82nd Airborne. I am incredibly proud of her and all our troops who are sacrificing so much to defend our freedom and to bring freedom from tyranny to others. Sitting on the sidelines watching these incredible men and women making a difference in the world has only exacerbated my desire to find some tangible way to make a contribution in support of our military. Of course, at 49 my options are somewhat limited. I have been a federal civilian employee for over 28 years, and so for the past several months I have been applying for civilian jobs with the Department of Defense. I was not selected for a position I applied for in Iraq, but the Army offered me a job in South Korea and I have accepted. I don’t presume to think that doing a civilian gig in Seoul is heroic or particularly self-sacrificing, but if in some small way I can play a part in our national defense, I am proud to do so.

Ok, that’s the altruistic reason for going, such as it is. On a more personal level, I have lived a very comfortable life. Too comfortable perhaps. The chance to live and work overseas in a totally alien culture seems to be an exciting opportunity to get out of my box and experience a new lifestyle. Yes, I am looking forward to the adventure. Of course, the nature of adventure is the not knowing how things will turn out. I know I will miss my family and friends and everything that is familiar and wonderfully American. I have made a two-year commitment to the Army, and if I am miserable and lost and lonely, well I will deal with it and learn what I can from the experience. Going in, I have a positive attitude and believe that I have the power to determine what I gain and how I grow as I live this new life.

So, this blog will serve as a diary of my life in Korea. It will be a place where I share my thoughts on what I am seeing, doing, and learning. And since I am fairly political and opinionated, there will likely be some commentary on my views on world events. I have been a blog reader since I discovered the blogosphere shortly after 9/11. This is my first attempt at writing a blog, and that will be part of the adventure I am undertaking.

My original intent when starting LTG was to have an easy way to stay in touch and share with my friends and family back home what was happening in my Korean life. These days, no one from those long ago times reads the blog or cares about me and my so-called life here in the Philippines. Everything changes, but this journey of mine still goes on until I finally reach the end of my road. And I intend to keep writing this public diary of mine even if no one cares enough to read it. I know I have a handful of loyal followers, and that means a lot to me, even if your reward is being subjected to my daily dose of drivel. Thank you!

I have occasionally fantasized about writing the story of my life. Perhaps one day, my descendants will want to learn more about that crazy relative who left everything behind and moved to Asia. In some ways, this blog fulfills that purpose. My plan now is to spend the next few months scrolling through the archives for the rare post that might be worthy of inclusion in my unwritten autobiography. I’ve created a new tag, “The story of my life,” to add to those posts so they will be easy to find in the future. And I’ll share a link to those stories with my readers as I find them.

Over the past twenty years, I have written 5,326 posts and received 17,181 comments. Happy blogiversary! I hope you’ll stick around to see what happens next.

And here’s what happened yesterday:

The morning dog walk to start the day

And then it was time for the Wednesday Walkers group hike. We took a Jeepney out to the far side of Subic and commenced our hike from there.

Out of the Jeepney
And off we go!
Leaving the city behind
Catching up after a pee stop
Bushy grasses would be our bane for much of the hike
Mostly flat, but this was a tricky down
We last came this way in March. It wasn’t so overgrown with plant life back then.
Ah, the wide-open spaces!
It’s so much easier to walk on the dirt road. It didn’t last long, though.
Working the fields
Graffiti, Filipino-style
Village life
The road’s gone, but the grass is low for now.
Lollipop delivery
Pausing for the group shot. Biggest turnout we’ve had for a while.
A hard-working carabao
Life on the farm
Marching single file
It held her!
And then it got wet and muddy
How muddy? This muddy.
We needed to cross the river, but some of us wanted a better option for doing so.
Washing the mud off our shoes was an added benefit
The carabao didn’t mind us passing through his turf
That bridge most of us didn’t take
These two gals did, though
Well done, Beth
This cow was a little freaked out seeing us pass through. At least he ran the other way instead of at us.
And then there was another water crossing
No dry shoe option this time
Through the fields we go
It seems strange to grow a crop in the riverbed, but whatever it takes
Slippin’ on down to the river
And then wading across
There is freedom in wet feet–you don’t have to care anymore.
Through another small village
Then back on the pavement
All the Jeepneys passing by were full
But then we were able to flag down a passing Victory Line and rode back to Barretto in comfort
Just about 6.5K from start to finish

Swan and I killed the evening hours with visits to It Doesn’t Matter and a nightcap at Wet Spot.

I made it, but just barely.

Remembering when we were a family:

Both my brothers are still alive; I just never hear from them anymore.

And now for a taste of politics:

Funny and sad how that works

In today’s YouTube video, Reekay recounts the sad tale of expat Ted. I spend more than I should and have depleted a sizeable chunk of my savings, but that monthly government pension deposit is ample to keep me living large—at least until the USA goes bankrupt. Avoiding four years of Kamala spending might be the miracle we’ve needed.

And some humor, if you please:

That kid is going places!
Time to wrap it up, Kirk
Maybe it’s a hump too far

Anyway, here’s to hoping it will be a Long Time Gone before my blogging days are over. I ain’t in no hurry to give it up.

Keep the change

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I’ve been doing some self-reflection and pondering the way ahead as I move into what remains of my golden years. Honestly speaking and notwithstanding my bitching and moaning, I’m living a comfortable and mostly satisfying retired life here in my scenic little town. The one aspect I’ve been most unhappy about has been my failure to find and maintain a truly loving relationship. And yes, I know that is all on me. And you, my dear readers, are quick to remind me of that fact whenever my whining rants and self-pity get to be too much. See, this blog does serve a purpose!

A commenter on my Live and Learn post defined the nature of my failures with women as being due to what he called “transactional relationships”:


If you really are seeking some sort of love and companionship, you have to start by eliminating the transactional dimension of your “relationships.” Another astute commenter used the phrase “pay for play” to describe your situation. As long as you’re unable to rise above the transactional (she gets something out of this; I get something out of this), you’re doomed to marinate in your own hell.

I hadn’t really ever thought of it quite that way so that set me to thinking. Looking back it is true that almost all of my “love” relationships had a transactional aspect to them. Maybe it is just the way I’m wired or perhaps it’s just my admittedly selfish nature, but I’m not seeing how I might escape this Groundhog Day-like cycle. I mean, aren’t the traditional wedding vows transactional in nature? Making mutual promises to one another about all the things you will do for that person “until death do us part” is tantamount to entering into a contract. What’s more transactional than that?

So, I’ve been married four times. Some might call that a failure, but on the other hand, I did find four women in this world willing to take those vows of eternal love. That it was all for naught isn’t all that relevant, is it? In the case of wife #1, she had my baby. I wanted to keep that baby girl and raise her the best I could. Marriage was the avenue for doing that, so I gladly made that transaction. After five years that wife decided she didn’t want the job of being a mother anymore (we also had a son by now) so I became a single father.

Wife #2 was and is probably one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. I knew she’d make a great mom for my kids (she was a widow with one young child) and so I convinced her to marry me. I did love her in my fashion but there is no denying the transactional nature of that relationship. Of course, once the kids were grown the foundation of the marriage no longer existed. I recall that when I told my daughter of the pending divorce, she said to me: “I never understood why you got married in the first place. You two have nothing in common. She doesn’t even laugh at your jokes.” I responded that I got married so she would have a mother. My daughter looked at me and said “Daddy, we were doing just fine as the three of us.” Oh well, that one is all on me and I hurt a very good woman in the process. I’m not proud of that at all.

Now, wife #3 was all about passion. I mean, that was certainly true in the physical sense but it also carried over into our intellectual life as well. We fought about everything, but not really in a bad way. We both worked in labor relations and we’d have heated debates about work-related issues as a matter of course. Once I wised up and left my liberal orthodoxy behind we’d fight like cats and dogs over politics too. But the thing is, we were engaged. We argued because we cared. And once I moved to Korea and she reneged on her promise to join me there, I really missed that aspect of our married life. That’s probably one of the few instances of a non-transactional relationship I’ve managed to achieve. In the end, it was still a failure, but in a twisted kind of way, it worked while it lasted.

My Korean wife (#4 if you’re keeping score) was pretty much the complete opposite of my third wife. The language barrier played a large part in that I suppose as our interactions were limited to mostly mundane questions and responses. But she was a good woman and had a good heart. And she changed my life. I was supposed to retire and move to the Philippines in 2010. But after one of my trips there I came home sick and was hospitalized for a couple of days. Jee Yeun took time off work and stayed with me 24/7. And that got me thinking. I knew the Filipinas I had been meeting would love me for what I could offer them but likely only until a better option came along. I knew Jee Yeun would always be there for me. So, that’s what I chose. The deal was we’d always take care of each other and I was happy or at least satisfied with that. I guess that’s transactional too, but at least it was mutual. It was shocking when Jee Yeun unilaterally backed out of the deal. And not to make excuses, but I’ve been cynical about love ever since.

Now, after that final failure (and it is final, I will never marry again) I’ve been floundering. I want to have love in my love, but I’m unwilling to take the risks that loving someone requires. I don’t want another broken heart. So, I came up with a brand new plan. It was the ultimate in transactional relationships–I would pay someone to do and be all the things a girlfriend should provide, except there would be no love involved. I was a fool to believe it was foolproof. In the end, I fell in love with her and she broke my heart. Turns out she was better at the transactional game than I was–dumping me for a guy who offered her a better package. Is that how Karma works?

So, now what? We’ve identified the problem and that would be me. But what to do about it? Is being aware of my transactional nature enough to change it? Or will this be my destiny:

…like a wind-up toy aimed at a wall, you tend to hit that wall and to keep stubbornly trying to walk through it. You’ve been great about accepting the various criticisms we’ve offered (frankly, I might not react so well if I were in your place), but deep down, you’re not really accepting them. You’re stubbornly, eternally walking into that wall, into that wall, into that wall. Until you divorce yourself from that momentum and that trajectory (some would call this karma), nothing is going to change, no matter how much you rhapsodize about loftier things.

With awareness comes acceptance. Except I’m accepting that I’m not likely to change at this stage of my life. After giving the matter lots of thought, I’ve concluded that I am unlikely to change because I’m not at all sure that I want to change. No, I’m not particularly happy with my current state of being but damn, being “in love” might just be worse. These past few days seeing how the power my feelings for Janey has made me vulnerable to hurt and despair has been a good reminder that there are worse things than being alone.

So, what next? Well, I’m going to strive to do better in the way I treat the women I meet. A transactional relationship is one thing, but using people in a way that causes them pain is unacceptable. I don’t think that was ever my intent but I believe there have been some inadvertent hurt feelings along the way. I’m going to learn to embrace my aloneness as just another part of who I am. Yes, I’ll find opportunities along the way to experience the unique pleasure female company can provide. Let that be my respite from loneliness.

Actually, the thought has occurred to me to give my “Plan B” another try. Just pay someone to be my girlfriend/companion in much the same way that I pay my domestic helpers to take care of my house. It could work. As long as I don’t fall in love.

And the best news of all dear readers is that you will not hear me bitch and moan about the sorry state of my love life. There is peace in acceptance.

There’s something about Mary

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What that something is I haven’t quite figured out. Maybe I never will.

Last night’s get together was something of a roller coaster ride. Mary was a little late arriving at our rendevous location and we were bumping up against the pending curfew. No trikes were available so she walked with me to the house without complaint. Mary said she wasn’t hungry, so I made up a batch of strawberry-banana smoothies.

I tried to engage her in some conversation but she seemed shyer and more reserved than during our first meeting. I’d had a few beers while waiting for her so I probably wasn’t providing much inspiration either. I remember asking her if she likes me and she responded by holding up her thumb and index finger maybe an inch apart and said “a little”. Hmm, that made me wonder why she had even bothered to come. Oh. Probably for the money. This led me to broach the subject of my being her Sugar Daddy. Mary had never heard of the concept and after I explained it she simply said “will it pay the rent?”

Mary strikes me as being quite the enigma–equal parts shy, innocent, and mercenary. But I guess desperate times require stepping out of her comfort zone. So I took her upstairs to the bedroom.

The next morning she came downstairs acting like nothing was wrong. The dogs like her at least. She didn’t want breakfast and after a couple of minutes of small talk, she asked if she could take a shower. I took her upstairs and showed how the shower water heater worked.

While she was in the bathroom, I put the rent money under her phone. She came out, saw the money, and asked “what’s this?”. I told her it was the rent money. And she didn’t want to take it. I finally told her it was her birthday present and her severance pay. She asked why and I told her I wasn’t interested in spending time with someone who couldn’t even pretend to be interested in me. Mary said, “but I really do like you a lot!”. I’m like, WTF? We just had this conversation on the bed and you agreed that you weren’t attracted to me. Her response floored me: “I really couldn’t understand much of what you were saying. You talk too fast.” So I said, well, you know, if you don’t tell me you don’t understand me, how am I supposed to explain or slow down? You kept nodding and agreeing with me, so I assumed you understood. So, anyway, we agreed that I would try to slow down my speech (my domestic helper agrees I’m hard to understand at times) and Mary will tell me to repeat myself as needed. We’ll see.

I told Mary to keep the money and consider it an advance on her first month’s salary. She reluctantly agreed to this. We haven’t really defined the terms of her employment yet. I’m just looking for a little company and companionship. And satisfying boom-boom now and then. I have no idea how that is going to work out, but I’ll give her another shot anyway I guess. I don’t really have any other irons in the fire right now.

And oh yeah. I walked her to the Jeepney stop and said goodbye. On her way home she sent me a message: “I think I’m falling in love with you.” Oh boy, here we go again. I’m a LONG way from feeling that emotion so I just told her we’d take it slowly and see where it leads us.

Bottom line: No, I don’t think she is a scammer. I think she is inexperienced and naturally shy. I’m not sure what her ultimate goal is, but it probably revolves around financial security, i.e. “the rent”. I think she has been pretty upfront about that. Now if she can just up her game and learn to make me feel special we could potentially have a win-win. Otherwise, I’m prepared to walk away.

UPDATE: I did something I very rarely do here at LTG…edited a completed post. I deleted some of the details about last night because it just seemed like too much information for a public blog. Sorry if what remains is more disjointed than usual.

Groundhog Day

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Which came first–the chicken or the egg? I’m guessing it was the rooster.

So, here we go again. My hopes for some relief from the “enhanced” quarantine rules were dashed with the announcement that Zambales province would continue with the current restrictions through May 15 (at least). And to add insult to injury the mayor of Olongapo has decreed that we will once again suffer a total lockdown on Saturday and Sunday. Not even using the “disinfecting” pretext this time around. I guess there is no point in having power if you aren’t willing to abuse it.

Here are today’s numbers for the Philippines. They are essentially meaningless in my opinion because almost no one has been tested that wasn’t already displaying symptoms. We know now that a huge percentage of people get the virus and have no symptoms and no lingering ill effects. Here in Olongapo, we’ve had four cases total. What the hell is all the fuss about?

I’ll admit this shit is getting depressing. So I decided it was time to take stock of things in my life. And one thing I was short on was my supply of beer. This morning I set about rectifying that situation.

I sent a message to my bar owner friend Jay asking if he had any beer in stock he wanted to sell. He responded that he was going into Olongapo shortly in search of some and I was welcome to ride along. And that is just what I did. Jay was driving the Hashmobile (he’s the Subic Hash Grandmaster, aka H.I.V.) and I didn’t think it was possible, but he drives even crazier than my own driver Donny. Anyway, we arrived safely at the market, and alas, they had no beer. Plenty of hard liquors available and Jay stocked up on those. Jay told me he would contact another bar owner to see if he had anything for sale. We drove back to Barretto and as we were offloading Jay’s purchases he realized he’d left his credit card at the store in Olongapo. Jay asked if I wanted to ride along again and having nothing better to do, and wanting him to pursue the alternative source for beer, I agreed. And then this happened:

The front tire blew out. And what a pain in the ass it was to change. I wound up calling my driver and it’s a good thing I did. The jack in the Hashmobile was totally inadequate for the job at hand. Donny’s jack saved the day.

So, since Donny was there I figured I’d go ahead and have him take me to the supermarket where I’d purchased beer and groceries on Tuesday. Knowing we were going on lockdown made me remember all the things I’d forgotten to buy on my earlier trip.

I guess everyone else was thinking the same thing…buy now or be fucked.

Once I was allowed into the store I set about my business. Only five cans of beer left on the shelf, so I grabbed them. Stocked up on dog food, chicken nuggets, canned goods, and the like, then headed home. On the way back Jay messaged that he had secured the three cases (24 bottles each) of beer I was desiring. WooHoo! That ought to get me through quarantine!

Bringing home my treasures!

Yesterday, I did a 12K hike with Scott and Jim.

We rendezvoused at the home of my mountain friends, JR and Jennifer and family. I brought along a sack of provisions to help them weather the virus storm.
We decided to keep it mostly flat this time. Monday’s hike was a killer doing the big climb in the heat.
So, I guess you could call this the ‘high” light of the hike as we worked our way back down from the mountain family’s place.
Scott took a photo of me taking a photo of Easter mountain…
Scott on the trail…
Me on the trail…
Gemini. (see what I did there?)
Jim is always leading the way (he’s got 10 years of youthful advantage on us) so he gets to sit and wait a lot.
Some things never change, this is the Philippines after all…
We crossed that bridge when we came to it. It was pretty dicey though…
On the home stretch of our hike. The trail led us to Alta Vista so I invited the guys in for some leftover chili, cheese nachos, and of course, cold beer to wash it all down. Which put a BIG dent in my supply and had a direct bearing on my beer seeking adventures today.

Still, having a couple of tech-savvy guys over was a good thing. Jim ran a clean-up program which sped things up on my computer quite a bit. Scott showed me how to download torrents from Pirate Bay and I’ve got season 1 and 2 of Game of Thrones to dive into this weekend now at least.

So, my high school girlfriend actually posted this on her Facebook page today:

OUCH!

And I’ll leave you with this which is both funny and sadly all too accurate:

As Glenn Reynolds notes, the Babylon Bee has become America’s paper of record.

One lifetime, many lives (prologue)

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Been doing some thinking as I walk my life away. It occurs to me that in my lifetime I have lived many different lives. Obviously, I’m the same person I’ve always been, but I’m also radically different in many, many ways from who I was in the past. Perhaps that is true of everyone but it seems profound to me to see how this character in the book of my life has become the person that metaphorically stands before you today.

Going with the book theme, I suppose one way to look at it would be calling these lives within a life chapters in my story. But what would a chapter encompass? Decades don’t neatly align with the transitions I’m thinking about. Life events, like marriages to four different women, might come a little closer. I’m currently building a new life here in the Philippines, but you don’t necessarily change just because your location does. It’s probably more accurate to say all of these factors and events play a part in creating the lives we live within a lifetime. It’s a messy business living a life!

Again, I don’t think there is anything special or unique about my circumstances. It’s just something that I occasionally reflect on as I look back on a life (mostly) well lived. And of course given the self-indulgent autobiographical nature of much of what I post here at LTG it seems natural to share my thoughts as I try to make sense of it all.

So I guess you’ve been warned. I think I will periodically write about a “chapter” in my life story if for no other reason than to gain insights and understanding about who I am and how I got here. Of course, that presumes I’ll be able to figure out a method for doing that.

Let me take a walk and think about it. Stay tuned!

The first day of the rest of my (new) life

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What a difference a day makes!

The final goodbye to my work family was as difficult as I expected it would be. Lots of tears, including some of my own…

The king has left his palace for the last time…

I hired a local Filipina I know to drive me to Incheon for W150,000. I decided to pay a premium for the convenience of door-to-door service She brought her boyfriend along which turned out to be a good thing. She kept texting while driving in heavy traffic and after ignoring his entreaties to stop doing it, he took the phone away from her. I breathed a sigh of relief!

When the check-in counter for Philippines Air opened an hour after my arrival I was second in line for the business class check-in. When my turn came I hefted my two heavy suitcases up on the belt and then waited for what I hoped would be good news. After a bit she looked up at me and said simply “you are overweight”. I smiled and said, yeah I know, but I’m working hard on that with diet and exercise. She didn’t get my meaning at first, but then she pointed at the scale which read “64 kgs” and said I’m only allowed 30 kgs. She then helpfully suggested that if I wanted to pay and additional W334,000 she would check the bag. And so I did. I wasn’t surprised I was over the limit, just surprised by how much.

Anyway, I got to kill time in an airport lounge with a decent enough free buffet (another business class perk) while I waited to board my flight. Which in due course I did.

The only way to fly! The seat fully reclined, no one sitting next to me, and I enjoyed re-watching the musical “Chicago” for the first time in years. A short nap afterwards and then we were wheels down in Manila.

And once again the business class perks paid off as I was near the front of line at immigration and my luggage was amongst the first on the carousel. I was a little nervous that my many and bulging bags would garner unwanted attention from the customs folks (2 laptops, 15 new vape pens, and a dozen large bottles of juice) but they didn’t blink an eye as I sailed on through. Woot!

My driver was waiting in the appointed location and I was impressed as he skillfully maneuvered his way through the surprisingly heavy late night Manila traffic. It a long drive regardless and it was 3:00 a.m. when we finally arrived at the Treasure Island Resort where I will stay until Monday.

My room is a disappointment. I booked through Agoda and specifically requested (and paid for) an ocean view room. Well, the ocean ain’t far outside my door, but the room does not feature any windows. I guess if I sit out on my patio I can see water, but still… Oddly enough, the last time I stayed at Treasure Island I was given the same room, which is why I never came back. And just to prove that the God of Love has a wicked sense of humor, this is the room I shared with Loraine last year. So I slept in the bed we once shared, but honestly, it didn’t bother me. Much.

Maybe I was unfazed because before going to bed I took my sleeping meds in the form of ice cold San Mig Lights. It seemed like a good way to kick off retired life.

Up around 8:00 this morning, had an omelette and took a quick hike on the beach.

It felt damn good too.

A nice day to be retired.

While I was out and about I took a look at available short term apartments here in the Baloy beach area. The one I had looked at and liked during my January trip will not be available until next month. I found another one I kinda liked but when I asked about internet, the owner said “it’s better outside than inside”. Nope. So, I guess I’m going to settle for a little one bedroom place up the road a piece. It will run about $500 a month. Way too much really, but it is not a place I’m willing to stay long term, so there’s a premium on month-to-month. Or maybe I’m just paying the foreigner tax. Ah well, not going to sweat the small stuff.

Long term I still want a nice house. Walked through Alta Vista subdivision again but alas, I saw nothing for rent.

one of these…

…which feature this view would suit me just fine. I’ll be patient. Tomorrow I’ll check out another nearby subdivision and see what I can see…

Had lunch here at Treasure Island and flirted with the cute waitress Jessa. But it was all teasing, she is way too young and also has a four year old. Not going there!

I still need to go to the mall on the old Navy base and get a sim card for my phone. Was on my way to do that this afternoon and the sky started rumbling, so I said fuck it and came back to write this blog. Aren’t you glad I did?

And ain’t retired life grand?

My friend Eva sent me this poem and said when she saw it she thought it must be similar to what I’ve been feeling. Yeah, pretty much.

This is the beginning…
This is where it all will start,
on the wings of some new spirit with the beat of some new heart.

Every morning brings a promise,
Every day has gifts to give,
But today…right now…this minute….
is when I begin to live.
And the air that I am breathing is the breeze of what could be,
as I stand here looking out on all the things that could be Me.
And the road that goes before me, leading somewhere out of sight,
is a brand new opportunity for me to get it right.
This is the beginning. This is
Once Upon a Time….
There are dragons to be vanquished! There are castle walls to climb!
But this story isn’t written yet.
I’m only at page one.
The adventure that’s awaiting me has only just begun.
There are mysteries and treasures.
There are daring deeds to do!
And if I speak the secret word, then all my wishes will come true.
That magic word has powers that can make the heavens spin.
But it really is not secret that the password is……”Begin!”
Oh the possibilities is this beginning I have made!
I am ready!…. but reluctant.
I am excited!…. but afraid.

Afraid that starting something new leaves something old behind.
Afraid that what I seek is something I may never find.
Or, if I find it, that it won’t be what I want at all.
That what I’ve left behind is what I needed after all.

Beginning can be bittersweet, and hard to comprehend.
It can mean that some sweet, precious part of life is at an end.
And the heart can feel so hollow when it has to say good-bye
that the thought of starting over is too hard to even try.

But when I reach the end, when all my days are nearly through,
I will not want to look back on all the things I didn’t do.
Nor regret the joys and passions of the me that might have been,
if only I had found the simple courage to begin.
So…….This is the beginning….
My Beginning……..My Rebirth.
I awaken to the wonder of what I am really worth.
It is a springtime for the spirit, and it’s giving me a choice.
So I choose to use this season as a reason to rejoice!

I lift my voice in sweet thanksgiving, singing loud….and not alone.
A host of harmonies accompanies my song of the unknown.
Loving friends and willing strangers, with their voices joining in,
create a chorus of encouragement that begs me to begin.

And the end?…..
It’s out there, somewhere, farther than the heart can see.
And the power that will take me there is here, inside of me.
Though there is no way I can know how many trials I’ll endure,
nor the joys that I may find,
there is one thing I know for sure…..

This is the Beginning…….
–Warren Hanson

It’s time.

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And here we are at last. My final day as a resident of Korea. My final day of employment. And hopefully my final day of looking back in sorrow and regret.

A few things left to do before I move on to my new future. Waiting for the landlord to come and satisfy himself that I’m leaving the house in the same condition I found it one year ago. Spent some big bucks having it cleaned last night so I reckon it is going to be fine. Then I’ll go into the office for a few hours to close some things out and say my final goodbyes to my work family. That’s going to be heartbreaking I know, but it’s a step in the process of moving on.

Speaking of goodbyes, I made the rounds last night saying farewell to my bar friends, and is my wont, handing out candy to my favorites. They don’t call me “the candyman” for nothing!

Georgia from Horse and Cow. She says she’s returning to the PI herself next month.

Mama, the owner of Horse and Cow.

Anna from Arirang Bar. She’s special to me. In fact, I really hope to meet a gal with her wit and humor someday.

Rein from Hot Top.

JJ and Seon Nyeo of Crystal’s Bar. I actually said my goodbyes there on Wednesday night.

I dropped into the IDK bar last night as well. The owner even gave me a gift, so I guess everything is forgiven from our past misunderstandings.

That’s a good question, one I’ve frequently asked myself of late…

I Don’t Know the answer, but I’m pretty sure it will involve the PI.

The owner of Hot Top saw my IDK shirt and wanted me to change into his. So of course I obliged.

The final stop of the night was at “The Block”, the new bar in town owned by the woman who ran the now demolished Shooters.

My friends Daniel and Dela joined me for most of my final Anjeong-ri bar hop. We had a great time. I was of course very drunk by the time midnight rolled around. They insisted on walking home with me, which was unnecessary but really sweet.

Speaking of friends, Eva messaged me with some encouraging words from a writer she likes last night.

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 was drunk when she sent it, but it did sound vaguely familiar. And then Eva revealed that she had been reading the old posts on my blog. The one quoted above was from January 1, 2005 as I contemplated my upcoming move to Korea. Wow. Everything has seemingly changed for me, and yet oddly, it remains the same. I want to have the confidence and positive outlook that the 2005 version of me carried into Korea. Thanks for reminding me of that, Eva.

And so ends my final post from Korea. It seems appropriate to end it with a song. I always imagined that this particular song would be perfect to be played at my funeral. It also seems appropriate to mark the end of my life in Korea and you can read this article where I mentioned about the affordability of the best funeral services in town.

Time
Flowing like a river
Time
Beckoning me
Who knows when we shall meet again
If ever
But time
Keeps flowing like a river
To the sea

Goodbye my love
Maybe for forever
Goodbye my love
The tide waits for me
Who knows when we shall meet again
If ever
But time
Keeps flowing like a river (on and on)
To the sea
To the sea

Till it’s gone forever
Gone forever
Gone forevermore

Goodbye my friend
Maybe for forever
Goodbye my friend
The stars wait for me
Who knows where we shall meet again
If ever
But time
Keeps flowing like a river (on and on)
To the sea
To the sea

The way we were

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Now I wind up staring at an empty glass                                                                                  Because it’s so easy to say that you’ll forget your past...

Another Valentine’s Day being spent on my own.  And truthfully, that’s pretty much the way I choose to be.  But it weren’t always so.  And it seems there is always something there to remind me when I wasn’t alone.

Delving through my old posts on the Philippines information board I frequent, I came across something I wrote back in August 2009 called “My Dilemma”:

So next month marks an anniversary. One year since my last visit to the PI. You guys with PPD (post Philippines Depression) can imagine how much worse it is when you don’t know when, or if, you will return to paradise.

See, next August I am eligible to retire and can draw a generous (and well earned I might add) government pension. I could live comfortably almost anywhere, but in the PI I could live like a rich man. And that has a certain appeal to me.

What’s the problem then? Well, as the old Elvin Bishop song says “I fooled around and fell in love”. With a Korean woman.

Now, this woman is 93% perfect. She takes care of all my needs in a way that is beyond anything I ever imagined. And I’m a man who likes to be taken care of. She does everything for me down to the smallest detail without complaint. In fact, she tells me it is “her pleasure”. She is an amazing lover and an old fashioned good hearted woman. I go to the bars about three nights a week for darts, and she never complains. She comes along and has actually become a pretty big fan of the game. All my friends think she is great and her family seems to have taken a liking to me as well. When I got sick last year, she was at my side in the hospital 24/7. Hell, to reference another old song, she’s like the gal The Band sang about: “up on cripple creek she sends me/if I spring a leak/she mends me/I don’t have to speak/she defends me/a drunkards dream if I ever did see one…”

Yep, I’d have a hard time finding anyone better for me in this world than her.

So, you may be thinking, “what’s the dilemma?”. The 7% of the GF that is not perfect is that she is extraordinarily jealous. Almost to the point of being insane about it.

And she found my collection of photos from previous trips to the Philippines. She says seeing me with those “young girls” just makes her sick to her stomach. She deleted them all.

Now, even hearing the word Philippines enrages her. And whenever there’s a Filipina in a bar she accuses me of staring at her and tells me “I love Filipino women too much!”.

She accessed my email and found communications with a platonic friend in the PI and went nuts.

If I go to a filipino bar I like here in Seoul she gets pissed.

She checks the messages/call history on my cell phone.

She checks the stamps in my passport when I travel.

She counts the frickin’ money in my wallet to make sure I’m not spending money on others.

In other words, that 7% is getting to be a real pain in the ass.

But damn, she does love me, and you know, there is something to be said for being loved.

But any future I might have with her, means there is no Philippines in my future.

And she is right about one thing–I truly do love the Pinays.

Hence my dilemma. One year out from retirement and I need to be firming up plans. If I stay in Korea with her, it means getting married (will need a visa). If I’m going to the PI to retire, well, I need to be going there and making some decisions.

I’m stuck at 50-50 on the pros and cons. I mean, I could pay someone  in the PI to take care of all those nice things my GF gives me free. But as the Beatles so astutely noted, “Money can’t buy me love”.

I guess it’s a good thing to have choices in life. But it feels pretty fucked up right now.

Well, of course regular readers know that I chose love over the Philippines.  And as it turned out, I chose wrong.  I’m still not really over it and I definitely don’t understand it.  But there is of course no going back.  I can only lament the wasted time.

But as Facebook reminds me today, there were moments of love.  I even made a movie about it, circa 2013.

Painful to watch now.  And for those who say it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, I call bullshit.

One thing is for sure, I am bound and determined to never love again.  Don’t need it, don’t want it.  Happy Valentine’s Day!

Mem’ries,
Light the corners of my mind
Misty water-colored memories
Of the way we were
Scattered pictures,
Of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another
For the way we were
Can it be that it was all so simple then?
Or has time re-written every line?
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we? Could we?
Mem’ries, may be beautiful and yet
What’s too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget
So it’s the laughter
We will remember
Whenever we remember…
The way we were…
The way we were…

Perfect timing!

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Feel free to skip this post if you are weary of hearing my tales of woe regarding my health.

Okay, for the rest of you then…

Today I successfully secured a coveted appointment at the Brian Allgood Army Community Hospital on my third day of trying.  Oddly enough, I started experiencing shortness of breath about an hour before my 5 o’clock appoint.  And it was the worst occurrence I’ve ever had.  I was having difficulty even talking to the intake nurse about my symptoms.  The took my blood pressure (185/100!) then I met with the doctor.  He could immediately see I was in some pretty serious distress and asked me how often this condition occurred.  I breathlessly explained that I never let it get this bad since acquiring my nebulizer.  The good doc said let’s get you some nebulization going now and while I was inhaling that sweet relief, he listened to my chest and apparently didn’t like what he heard.

As is usually the case, I felt better almost immediately.  But apparently my blood oxygen was staying in the low 80s (normal is 95+) which meant I was experiencing Hypoxemia. That’s not good and the doc wanted me to visit the emergency room then and there.  And so naturally I did.

The took my blood pressure again (still over 180), did an EKG, and started me on another round of nebulaziton.

Suckin’ in the ER.

Then they wheeled me down to x-ray to get a gander at my lungs.

My first ever ride in a wheelchair on the way to the x-ray department. Whee! (I’ll be happy if it is my last ride in one though).

At least I had something to read.

By the time I got back to the ER I was feeling much better and my vitals confirmed it (blood pressure back down in the normal for me 140s, and blood oxygen back in the high 90s.  So, now I wanted to hear the long elusive diagnosis.  Doctor says it seems to be a case of Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD).  Damn, I was afraid he was going to say that!  (A couple of friends had suggested that may be my problem, but I was in denial).

There it is, the price I paid for 25 years of moderate smoking.  The fact that I’ve been off tobacco for over 2 years now is certainly a positive.  It appears my COPD is still in the early stages, and there are things I can do to slow it’s progress.  So, that’s what I will do. We all got to die of something, but my death is far from imminent.  My dad had COPD and made it to 83.  That’s a worthwhile goal I reckon.

I came home with some drugs and an inhaler and instructions to return for a follow-on visit in a week.

In the meantime, it is always possible I will run into someone like this:

And maybe she’ll live up to her name!

It’s all good.  Onward!

 

 

Stayin’ alive

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Welcome to my first post of 2017!  I’d wish you a happy new year but…

….I will wish you more good days than bad instead. My goal is to get out of this year alive!

So, regular readers know that I rang in the New Year in the Philippines.  The trip turned out to be about half as good as I hoped.  I’m going to do a post about the travel portion of that visit soon.  This post is about the bad part.

Here’s a helpful hint:  Don’t take a vacation when you are sick.  I had my meds and figured I’d either get progressively better or stay about the same.  Didn’t think things could get worse until they did.

I arrived with my “tour guide” at our chosen Puerto Galera lodging, the Tribal Hills Mountain Resort pretty much on schedule at 1600 on Thursday the 29th.  I’d left home at 0430 though, so that constituted a long day of travel and I was pretty bushed.  Now, the day after Christmas PG had taken a direct hit from Typhoon Nina.  Lots of downed trees and the roads were pretty much a mess, but the resort was not in bad shape.  Except that the power was out.  No worries, they had a back up generator.  Although from 1300 until 1700 it was down for maintenance.  So, we arrived in our room without power, or more importantly, no air conditioning.  Took advantage of the wonderful deck off our room with outstanding views of the surrounding mountains and the ocean.

It wasn’t long before I noticed a bite on my arm from what I presume was a mosquito.  I belatedly got out my insect repellent and liberally applied it to the exposed areas of my body.  Shortly thereafter, a worrying rash appeared all over the arm that was bitten.  Then it spread to my neck and chest.  And then the other arm.  What the fuck?  I took a long shower and after a couple of hours the rash receded into nothingness and I felt no further ill-effects from the experience.

I had no idea just how isolated the Tribal Hills Resort actually is.  It’s on top of a mountain accessed by a narrow road that goes straight up.  I’d judge it to be a steeper climb than getting to the top of the stairs on Namsan.  And given my diminished lung capacity and bum leg, that was a non-starter.  They resort does offer a free shuttle to the base of the mountain near White Beach.  Although truth be told White Beach seemed like a sleepy little village with nothing much of interest to do there.  And the shuttle stops running at 2200 hours. So the resort has a restaurant and pool bar, who needs to leave, right?

Except late on the first night I experienced a new low in my battle with my lungs, as in a prolonged period where I had shortness of breath.  Which felt like drowning to me.  I tried not to panic which would lead to hyperventilation, but it felt like I was going to pass out at any moment.  My tour guide asked if I wanted to go the the hospital in Sabang, a good 45 minutes away under the best of circumstances.  And these weren’t the best of circumstances in Puerto Galero.  Imagining the nightmare of a small town provincial hospital in the PI, I declined the offer.  Back home during coughing jags I’d work up a sweat and found some comfort and relief having my fan blowing into my face.  I mentioned how I really longed for that fan now, and to her credit my tour guide set out on a midnight quest to find me one.  I assumed it would be fruitless because the resort basically shuts down after the last shuttle run, but she had roused a staff member who came to the door with fan in hand shortly thereafter.  It did provide a modicum of relief and I made it through a mostly sleepless night.

Things went better for most of the next day, which included a visit to Sabang.  So glad I didn’t try to go there for medical assistance!  That night I had some breathing problems again, but with the fan and some deep breathing exercises I learned from the web I was able to deal with it.  Again, just a couple hours of sleep though.  Decided to check out one day early and head back to Manila.  Call me a pussy, but the thought of not having access to emergency medical care should it be required was fucking with my mind.  Besides, there was just not much to see or do in PG and it seemed like a pointless place to ring in the New Year.

Had a nice New Year’s Eve celebration on P. Burgos street in Makati, coincidentally located very near the hotel I accidentally booked (I’ll cover that in the trip report installment).  More of the same, felt fine mostly until it came time to lay down for some sleep, which brought back the coughing fits and shortness of breath.  Managed a little more than 2 hours sleep from pure exhaustion, and woke up with the zit from hell on my cheek.  What’s up with that?

Last day in country had the worst bout yet and the tour guide suggested I get a nebulizer. I considered it briefly, but figured what I really needed was a doctor’s opinion, so I opted to wait until I got back to Seoul for that.  The plane ride from Manila went without incident, even managed a bit of sleep.  Once we landed I made it through immigration, bag claim, and customs in a jiffy.  Started walking to the AREX station and got hit hard with the lack of breath thing again.  The train departed in five minutes so there was no stopping to rest. Made it on board and collapsed in my seat.  I did my breathing exercises and told myself to suck it up and calm down, and eventually I did.  No other option really, it was after 1900 so my doctor’s clinic was long closed.

Caught a cab from Seoul Station and somehow managed to successfully navigate the cabbie to my villa’s front door through grunts and gestures.  Good thing too, because carrying my suitcase up two flights of stairs set off another lack of breath incident.  This one wouldn’t go away.  Around 0100 I was seriously thinking I needed to go to the emergency room for some oxygen.  Couldn’t think of anyone I felt comfortable calling to take me at that ungodly hour, and I figured trying to explain to 119 where I lived was pointless.  So I somehow managed to get through the night.  Through the power of sheer exhaustion I even managed a couple hours of sleep.

As I prepared to depart for Soonchunhwang hospital this morning, I stepped on the scale. 201 pounds!  A new record low for me, and down an amazing 6 pounds from last week.  I obviously haven’t been walking at all and on vacation I don’t strictly keep to diet (had a fantastic mango split for example).  The weight loss I’m certain is the result of my body and heart working overtime lately.  My fit bit advises that my resting heart rate has been in the high 80s to low 90s.  During my fits I’ve pushed it up to 130.  Prior to my illness my resting heart rate was around 70 and I only saw 130+ at the summit of the stairs to Namsan.  I DO NOT recommend this weight loss program however!

Arrived at the International Clinic without an appointment.  Receptionist asked if I preferred to see the hilarious Dr. Yoo or the sexy Dr. Kim.  I opted for Dr. Yoo who has been treating me for years.  But I felt compelled to mention in all other things I would pick Dr. Kim.  The receptionist smiled and said she understood.

Explained to Dr. Yoo (who coincidentally also has a cough and he blames Chinese pollution) what was going on, basically everything I’ve said above in more abbreviated form.  I know, why is HE so lucky?  Get over it!  I told him I needed to get this fixed.  He said if I had a fever he’d want me in the hospital.  I told him being hospitalized was something I really wanted and needed to avoid.  So, he had me do blood work, an EKG, a chest x-ray, and a nebulizer treatment.  After completing these rounds, I returned to see what Dr. Yoo’s conclusion might be.  I was happy that my hard working heart was still doing it’s job.  The blood work showed all indicators in the normal range.  The x-ray revealed that my lungs remain congested (no duh).  And the nebulizer treatment as far as I could tell was a success.  At least I wasn’t coughing.

He told me I was on the “borderline” for being hospitalized, but if I was willing to come in everyday for some nebulization we could try that.  I suggested that I just purchase my own nebulizer and do that at home. Dr. Yoo was down with that.  He also had mentioned having me hospitalized to administer intravenous antibiotics, but he was willing to try something stronger in pill form to see how that works out.  So, as of now I remain a free man!

My new best friend!

Don’t we make a nice couple? And check out that zit! Massive!

The doctor does wants me back in the morning for a follow-up, I guess to see how I’m reacting to the meds.  I’ve done two nebulizer treatments at home now and have had no issues with the cough or breathing problems.  I also had an uninterrupted two hour nap today which left me feeling surprisingly energized.

I’ll go to bed tonight feeling hopeful that the corner will indeed be turned and I can avoid the nightmare of being in a Korean hospital alone with no one to assist me.

I tagged this post in the “me, me, me” category which obviously fits.  I’m thinking I need to add a category of “aren’t you glad you’re not me?”  I suspect many of my readers come here to feel better about themselves.  Hey, glad to be of service.  No man is totally worthless, he can always serve as a bad example.

Cheers!

It’s a national holiday…

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…in honor of my granddaughter’s 11th birthday.  You can call it Children’s Day if you want, but for me it will always be Gracyn day!

She loves horses and is a great rider, just like her mother at that age...

She loves horses and is a great rider, just like her mother at that age…

Like mother, like daughter...

Like mother, like daughter…

In other news I purchased a new phone.  A sweet Galaxy 7.

Pain in the ass downloading all the apps I like again, but what the hell...

Pain in the ass downloading all the apps I like again, but what the hell…

One thing it didn’t come with was a spare battery.  After checking several stores and getting the same response “you have to go to the Samsung store”, I took it upon myself to go to, well, the Samsung store.  I was told it was near exit #1 of the Sookmyung Women’s University subway station.  In due course I actually found the store, but was told the service department was closed.  Not sure if that is an every Thursday thing or just in celebration of Gracyn day.  I was told they’d be open tomorrow, so I’ll try again.

Seeing as how I was on my lunchtime walk anyway, I meandered on over to Seoul Station.

The original Seoul Station mind you...

The original Seoul Station mind you…

And is my wont, I found an unidentified (for me at least) statue to photograph.

You will never be forgotten whoever the hell you are...

You will never be forgotten whoever the hell you are…

Making my way back towards the office where I am employed but not allowed to blog about, I found this vista featuring both old and new Seoul worthy of a photo...Was it?

Making my way back towards the office where I am employed but not allowed to blog about, I found this vista featuring both old and new Seoul worthy of a photo…Was it?

Today is also Cinco de Mayo. So, here's a photo I took in honor of that event...

Today is also Cinco de Mayo. So, here’s a photo I took in honor of that event…

On the 15th of May we’ll be holding the Seoul Sunday Singles League end of season tournament.  The trophies have arrived, here’s hoping the medals get here before the event as well.

Some damage in shipping, but I suppose it's nothing a little super glue won't fix...

Some damage in shipping, but I suppose it’s nothing a little super glue won’t fix…

And yes, I’m just about as handsome as ever.  Thanks for asking.

here's looking at you kid.

here’s looking at you kid.

It’s the inevitable let down at the end of a great adventure

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(In celebration of ten years of blogging here at LTG, each week for the next 52 51 weeks I will delve deep into the sewer archives of past posts to bring you a tidbit of blog history.  I had originally planned to call this series “The best of LTG”, but damn, there just wasn’t much “best” to be found.  And mediocre is too hard to spell.)

On December 30, 2010 I took note of my final day at work in “That about sums it up”. I ended that post on this hopeful note:

But I’m going to make sure this is merely the transition time between adventures.  Or go crazy.  One of those.

Maybe I am crazy, but it occurs to me now that life is always just one big transition.  I suppose that state of perpetual transition might on occasion include adventure.  More often it just hurts.

Now at last I have come to see what life is,
Nothing is ever ended, everything only begun,
And the brave victories that seem so splendid
Are never really won.

Even love that I built my spirit’s house for,
Comes like a brooding and a baffled guest,
And music and men’s praise and even laughter
Are not so good as rest.”
― Sara Teasdale,

Sick on many levels

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I’ve caught the dreaded springtime cold.  Nothing to be done but suffer through and treat the symptoms as best I can.  Last night before I went to bed Jee Yeun had me take one of these:

coldmeds 001

I assume it’s something along the lines of a Contac capsule.  It may or may not be related to the medication but I had a very strange dream that featured the Jethro Tull classic rock anthem “Aqualung”.  The gist of the dream was that I had become Aqualung.  If you are familiar with the song you know how disconcerting that would be.  The lyrics begin with:

Sitting on a park bench eying little girls with bad intent                                                     Snot was running down his nose, greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes.                       Hey Aqualung.

I’ll cop to admiring beautiful young women now and again, and yes, I did encounter some runny nose issues yesterday (which is doubly problematic given my Walrus-stache).  But I don’t recall any greasy fingers and my shorts and T-shirt, while casual, were not by any means “shabby”.

Anyway, I’d wake up (or dream I had awoken), think to myself that was weird, go back to sleep only to be confronted by the disembodied voice intoning “you are Aqualung”.  That happened a few times and then the dream said “you should blog about this”.  WTF?  Two times now I’ve dreamed dreams that specifically insisted they be blogged.

When I woke up for real this meaning I said to myself there ain’t no way I’m blogging about Aqualung.  Who’s in control here anyway?  Me or my subconscious?

 

 

 

Sloppy seconds

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Hell, I must be the Avis of darts.  I guess I’ll just have to try harder.

A second place finish is singles to the #1 player in Itaewon is not a bad showing I suppose.

A second place finish in singles to the #1 player in Itaewon is not a bad showing I suppose.

After the tournament we took a short walk down the street to our favorite samgyapsal house where we ate and drank some more.

We were joined by our good friends Koichi and Jiwon along with Jee Yeun's daughter Sohee...

We were joined by our good friends Koichi and Jiwon along with Jee Yeun’s daughter Sohee…

...and then we made some new friends with the guys who were sitting at the table next to ours. A couple of soldiers and their friend, a former KATUSA.

…and then we made some new friends with the guys who were sitting at the table next to ours. A couple of soldiers and their friend, a former KATUSA.

Jee Yeun especially took a liking to the young soldier coincidentally named John. Henceforth she referred to me as me "old" John...

Jee Yeun especially took a liking to the young soldier coincidentally named John. Henceforth she referred to me as  “old” John…

I think the KATUSA took a shine to Sohee but she was being shy. Or coy. Who can tell?

I think the KATUSA took a shine to Sohee but she was being shy. Or coy. Who can tell?

Anyway, it was a great night out in the ‘twon.  I have more fun in store this afternoon when we’ll meet up with the famous Big Hominid at the Tabom Brazil steak house.   It’s all you can eat so I’m not sure what condition I’ll be in for darts in the Sunday Singles League, but it will be worth it.

Details to follow.  Stay tuned!

All you need is love

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The nearest friends can go
With anyone to death, comes so far short
They might as well not try to go at all.
No, from the time when one is sick to death,
One is alone, and he dies more alone.
Friends make pretense of following to the grave,
But before one is in it, their minds are turned
And making the best of their way back to life
And living people, and things they understand.

–Robert Frost (from Home Burial)

My mother died this morning.  At home, peacefully in her sleep.  These past two weeks had been a struggle for her but she kept on fighting.  It was heartbreaking to watch her fade away each day.  She had stopped eating, drinking, and using her oxygen and become verbally non-communicative.  But until yesterday I could still see her “in there” behind her eyes and there was a spark of recognition when friends and family members came to visit.

The best night occurred last week when her sisters from California were here.  She was surrounded by people who loved her and she seemed to really perk up.  She actually made a little speech about what’s important in life and she said all that matters is love.  Mom told us to always love one another and everyone else we encountered.  When it was done she smiled and said, “well, I guess I gave a sermon”.  Mom was clearly loving having her family with her, that’s for sure.

She deteriorated pretty quickly after that.  She lost the ability to speak, but still would lift her arms and offer hugs to any and all takers.  Later she was reduced to moaning and grunts and all we could do was administer morphine and keep her as comfortable as possible.  She would still make eye contact and I sensed a pleading for help, but there was no help I could provide other than stroking her head.

The last days watching her lie there fighting for breath was heartrending and we could only standby watching her suffering.  This morning we woke to find her at peace at last.

You know, I have always feared dying alone.  So I thought it was a good thing that mom had family around her at the end of her days.  But I also observed that no matter the circumstances, we are all going to die alone.  Mom was physically alive, but she was also already gone to some other unreachable place.  I can only hope it was comfortable and pain free there.

Thanks for all the love you so freely gave me mom.

mother1.jpg

That about sums it up

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So, today is my last day at work.  At our team luncheon I’m going to talk about “change” using the Who Moved My Cheese? book as a reference point.  In doing some Google prep, I came upon this blog post which actually captures what I’m feeling these days better than I could ever hope to express.

It’s the inevitable let down at the end of a great adventure.

But I’m going to make sure this is merely the transition time between adventures.  Or go crazy.  One of those.

The end of the road

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before.JPG 

Before Government service

then-and-now.jpg 

After Government Service.

What a long, strange trip it’s been.

So, today I’m being honored with a retirement luncheon at Hartell House (the CG’s mess).  I’m never all that comfortable being in the spotlight, but these milestones in life seem to demand some ceremony so I’ll make the best of it and be gracious and appreciative.  Since it’s also expected that I make some remarks I’ve been thinking about that as well.  I was going to write down some talking points, but I’ve decided to just wing it instead.  I can’t help but think of it as akin to giving your own eulogy, but I’m going to try and keep it upbeat and hopefully I’ll avoid getting emotional.  Letting go of my job is in some ways like parting with an old friend.  I know it’s time to say goodbye, but that doesn’t make it any easier. 

So, I had some odd jobs here and there, some more steady than others.  But my career in Federal service began on October 27, 1976 when I took the oath of office and became a letter carrier with the United States Postal Service in Anaheim, California.  The starting pay was $5.25 an hour, which wasn’t that good even back then.  The job did have pretty good benefits though, chief among them from my perspective was the ability to retire at age 55. 

Well, here I am 55 years old.  So I guess it could be said that with my retirement I have now achieved the goal I set for myself 34 years ago.  But I did have some fun and some adventures along the way.  I’m not sure there is anything you can say upon reaching the retirement milestone that hasn’t been said before or that isn’t a tired cliché.  But yeah, if life is a journey then your working life is a journey within that journey.  And here’s some of my story. 

Working as a mailman was actually a pretty cool job.  Except for the dogs and supervisors with unreasonable expectations.  I carried pepper spray for the dogs and became a union steward to deal with the supervisors, so it worked out ok I guess.  A couple of years after starting with the Postal Service I could afford to have a second child, and so with some assistance from my then-wife, I acquired a son to complement my daughter. 

Now, back in those days I used to really enjoy getting out of the city for some camping out.  The in-laws owned some property in Arizona that we used for this purpose and the thought occurred that wouldn’t it be great to actually LIVE there.  So, I dropped in for a visit with the Postmaster of Prescott, Arizona and as fate would have he was looking to hire a letter carrier.  So, next thing I knew I was packing up the U-Haul truck and making the big move. 

Living and working in Arizona was like a dream come true.  I bought my first house, became president of the local union, and founded a softball association.  I was living the American dream for sure and figured I was set for life.  Ah, but things do change, don’t they?  They wife and I split up and I found myself with custody of a 5 year old and a 3 year old.  And being a single parent was really, really hard work.  I’d get up a six, feed and dress the kids, drop them at daycare, carry my mail route, pick up the kids, feed and bathe them, collapse in exhaustion, then get up and do it all over again the next day.  After a few months of this routine I cried “uncle!”.  Actually, I cried “mother” as in, mom I need some help. 

Now, my parents had retired to a small hobby farm in Poteau, Oklahoma.  The nearest city of any size was Fort Smith, Arkansas.  And after a meeting with the HR Director, Ms. Bobbie McLaine, my transfer request was approved. You know, there was some culture shock when I first moved here to Korea.  But really not as much as I experienced as a California city boy living in the rural south.  I think the natives were as wary of me as I was of them, and the first year there was the loneliest of my life.  Everyday I would berate myself as I shouldered my mail satchel and walked my route in stifling heat and humidity.  I considered moving to Arkansas the absolute worst mistake I had ever made. The kids were thriving though having quickly adjusted to life on the farm.  

So, I made it through that first summer.  And as bad as an Arkansas summer was, the winter was worse.  I was now spending my days walking up and down icy pathways and porch steps.  And falling on my ass with alarming frequency.  Even when the weather was good, the work had become routine and mind-numbingly boring. It was becoming harder and harder to imagine myself carrying the mail until I reached retirement eligibility. And so I started applying for some management jobs.  Of course, I wasn’t really qualified for anything but that didn’t stop me.  There was a job open in the safety office and I figured anyone could do that!  So, one day Bobbie McLaine, the HR Director came down to the workroom and asked me if I wanted to ride with her to a scheduled labor-management meeting in Fayetteville.  Seeing as how I was a union official and I didn’t want to be viewed as sucking up to management, I declined her offer.  A little later, Dixie (the HR Director’s secretary) came to see me and she said “John, don’t you want that safety job?  Bobbie wanted you to ride with her so she could talk with you about the job”.  Oops!  Well, I made sure I was seated next to Bobbie at lunch.  And I got the job! 

Here’s the thing about Fort Smith–it was a pretty small pond.  Which made it pretty easy to be a big fish.  In addition to safety, I was soon tasked with being the labor relations representative.  And then I took on the responsibilities of being the Public Affairs Officer.  And pretty much anything else that needed to be done when there wasn’t a body to do it.  You really learn a lot that way and I seemed to have a knack for getting it right, at least most of the time. 

Now, I’ll confess to having an ego.  And I got thinking I just might need a slightly larger pond to hold it.  Of all my duties, I enjoyed labor relations the most so I started applying for every vacancy I could find.  I finally scored an interview in Charleston, South Carolina.  So, I flew out there and found the city quite charming and to my liking.  I thought I handled the interview well and afterwards one of the panel members, Jack Mabe, asked to speak with me.  He said I have your application for a job on my staff in Columbia and I’d like to interview you for that while you are here.  Naturally, I agreed. 

Now, I didn’t have any “real” LR experience other than the ad hoc stuff I was doing in Fort Smith and my union background.   The Charleston job was a small step up, but the Columbia job would constitute a huge promotion.  The interview with Jack didn’t take long–ever done an arbitration?  No.  How about an EEO case?  No.  What about MSPB?  I didn’t even know what that was.  He then asked a final question–which job would I prefer, Charleston or Columbia.  Well, what could I say?  I told him that I really liked Charleston and I thought that with my level of experience it was a better fit.  He thanked me and I left. When I made it back to my office in Fort Smith there was a message from Jack Mabe offering me the job in Columbia.  I accepted and moved to a city I had never seen.  I asked Jack later why he picked me and he said because you didn’t know anything so you wouldn’t have to unlearn any bad habits. 

Well, I was definitely way in over my head those first few months in Columbia.  But Jack was a great mentor and I learned how to do things his way which as it so happens was also the right way.  I gained confidence and competence and starting having enough success that I was getting noticed by some higher ups.  This led to an opportunity to be detailed as the Director of HR in Roanoke, VA and to doing some arbitration’s for areas outside of Columbia. 

And then came a major Postal Service reorganization.  One of those downsizing efforts to remove unneeded layers of management that seem to take place in organizations every few years.  All I was told for sure was that my Columbia job would no longer exist and that hopefully “something” would be found for me somewhere.  It was a tough time that drug on for several tortuous months.  In the end I wound up with a promotion working for the newly created Mid-Atlantic Area (one of 10 reporting directly to USPS HQ).  The best part was I could remain in Columbia because the job was traveling throughout the mid-Atlantic states doing arbitration, EEO and MSPB hearings! 

It was my dream job.  I was on the road 3 weeks out of the month, but in those days air travel was not such a bitch.  I really liked being the hired gun that came into town to handle the toughest cases.  And I won enough of them to gain a reputation for excellence.  I did this for several years and then my boss, Barry Swinehart, got promoted to the Area Director of HR.  He said he hoped I’d be applying for his old job as the Area LR manager.  I told him I already had the perfect job and lived in a perfect city and that I had no interest in living in the DC area (Arlington, VA).  Later he asked me to at least come up for a detail in the job.  I again declined. 

Then one day he called and said “John, I need you to do me a favor”.  Well, I know enough to know that when your boss says that, he ain’t asking.  And so I became the Mid-Atlantic Area Manager of Labor Relations.  It was the biggest job I ever had.  Responsible for 80,000 employees in 7 states (and DC).  Six people working for me and four angry postal unions on my ass every day.  

There was never a quiet moment and I worked long hours.  But it was a challenge and I think it really helped me learn a lot about leadership.  Or maybe I just got lucky and hired good people to work for me.  Either way, I enjoyed a fair amount of success and I was slotted into the Executive Development Program.  I was at the top of my game and the sky was limit. 

Or not.  I’ve never been much for playing politics.  And when HQ came out with some dumb-ass policy or program, I expressed my opinion accordingly.  Suffice to say I did not endear myself to the HQ VP for Labor Relations.  And then Barry Swinehart retired.  And I was deemed “not ready” to be his successor in the Postal Executive Service.  So, I took a detail assignment as the Director of HR in Little Rock, Arkansas.  It was a little like going home again and I did enjoy my time there.  I was offered the job on a permanent basis, but I decided my future lay elsewhere.  So, I took a job with the U.S. Department of Education. 

The ED is the smallest of the cabinet level Departments with just over 5,000 employees.  I was the number 2 in LR there.  I had a fraction of my previous responsibilities but a 25% pay increase, so I went for the money.  And spent four years being bored out of my mind.  Oh there were moments when I engaged in massive battles with the union on the size of cubicles (I’m not kidding!), but otherwise I was phoning it in. 

Turns out money is not everything.  I started applying for jobs that would get me out of DC and the DC mindset.  I was hoping for a job in Iraq but the Corps of Engineers apparently weren’t looking for old fat guys at the time.  I did get an offer from the Eighth Army in Korea and I jumped on it!  I had no clue what I was in for but it turned out to be the best place I’ve ever worked or lived.  You can read six years of Long Time Gone archives if you want to relive my adventures here, but I wouldn’t recommend it. 

And so this is where my career journey will end on December 31.  It was an incredible ride.  And although I might have done some things differently, I wouldn’t change a thing.  If you get my meaning.  Anyway, I’d best be getting ready to do my retirement gig.   

On the town

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Last night was softtip dart league night. We were playing Danny’s Bar in Hannam-dong. Although we were playing at Jay Bar because Danny’s no longer has an electronic dart board (having replaced it with a baby grand piano). Talk about extreme makeovers.

Anyhoo, Hannam is the next village over from Itaewon, but it is world’s away in terms of atmosphere. Not nearly as many foreigners for example. Savvy readers will remember that I technically live in Hannam, although I am several blocks away from the business district. I actually only rarely go there which is a shame because it is a nice change of pace.

So, the softip league differs from the steeltip version in that about half the teams are made up exclusively of Koreans. And they are good, eight of the top ten players are Koreans. Danny’s/Jay Bar are Korean venues. In fact, the bar staff didn’t speak English at all. So, I got to use my limited vocabulary a couple of times (although teammates Lonnie and Grant are comparatively fluent).

We won 13-0. That is two weeks in a row we have swept the match. Of course it would be dishonest if I failed to mention that both victories came as a result of forfeits. Not sure what is going on, but rumor has it the Korean teams are boycotting because of some controversy that occurred in a big softtip tournament with an American member of the league. Don’t know that that is the case, but it was strange that NONE of the Korean teams showed up last week.

Well, we were there at Jay Bar and had the board to ourselves so we played a couple of rounds and enjoyed some cold beers. Then we crossed the street to check out Danny’s and had another round of beer. Afterwards we cabbed back to Dolce and played some “real” darts (steeltips) and drank more beer.

Mr. Kim, a fine darts player and a good guy showed up. Rare for him these days as he is juggling three businesses and is always working. He immediately challenged me to a game, but I protested I was too drunk to throw and besides I had already put my darts away. He wasn’t hearing it, reminding me that I had put him out of the tournament on Saturday and he wanted some revenge. What are you going to do in that situation but play. Well, the results were pretty predictable as he won 4 of the 5 legs we played. Although given my condition, they were relatively close. I think sober I *might* be able to beat Mr. Kim 40% of the time. Or not.

And then I had a nice surprise when Brian, a friend from the fantasy football league, came in with a Canadian friend of his. We all got to talking and the next thing I know its 2 a.m. It was good to see him again though. BTW, my team lost in the second round of the playoffs last weekend. I had debated which running back to bench, Willie Parker or Clinton Portis. I went with Parker who wound up getting injured in the first quarter and scored me zero points. I would up losing by 10 points, and the difference was sitting on my bench in the person of Mr. Portis. Ah well.

Oh yeah, on the evening of Christmas day we had the bright idea of inventing some dart bar drinks. I don’t know enough about booze to be of any benefit to the creative process, but in a small way I was the inspiration. I was throwing pretty poorly and Jim had ordered a round of drinks. When the barkeep asked what I wanted I blurted out that “I needed a dart lesson”. A light bulb went off in Jim’s head I guess, because the next thing I know he had pen and paper in hand and was working on a recipe. And the shot now called the “dart lesson” was born. Its an ungodly mix of grenadine, jagermeister, Bailey’s and Midori. Given the various consistencies of the ingredients it makes for a layer of dart board colors in the shot glass. Looks good but the taste is pretty gross. So, we decided it would be a punishment drink, i.e., someone throws a bad round of darts and the call goes out to “give that guy a dart lesson”. That should provide some motivation to shoot well. Jim actually worked up a couple of more drinks, including a Ton-80. That consists of two parts Wild Turkey and one part Southern Comfort (to take the edge off). Now, I personally can barely drink whiskey as it triggers a gag reflex. But, Lonnie had thrown a Ton-80 at Jay Bar, so of course we had to give the new drink a try. Yikes, it is powerful concoction! Luckily (for me) Ton-80s are relatively rare.

So, today is the first day of my mini-vacation. I took today and Monday off, so I’m sitting on a 5 day New Year’s weekend. Not doing anything out of the ordinary though. Dart tourneys tonight and Sunday, and a New Year’s eve party at Dolce Vita are about all I have on my agenda.

Been trying to sell my deceased boss’ car for the past couple of months, and finally got a call this morning. So hopefully we will complete the sale on Monday. That will be a worry off my mind.

And that just about brings y’all up to the minute in the exciting world of LTG.