I have this friend I’ve known for around three years now. Yes, she works in a bar. She’s in her mid-30’s and has FIVE kids, ranging in age from 17 to 9. All by the same Filipino partner, or so she tells me. He’s out of the picture now, and as you might imagine, she struggles to make ends meet on a bargirls salary. She had a Swiss boyfriend who was sending her some monthly support (around $100.) but apparently he decided to end that arrangement/relationship. Hence her financial woes were exacerbated and she was in near panic mode about paying rent, buying food, and keeping her kids in school.
As fate would have it, she’s living in one of the shanty villages right outside my subdivision. I can practically see her “house” from mine. I occasionally walk through that area and will sometimes hand out candy to the kids. It’s a sad situation but I do admire her strong sense of duty as a mother.
I may have mentioned previously that I’ve not been entirely comfortable with the arrangement I made with a small orphanage in Olongapo. My domestic helper thinks I’m being scammed and that the support I provide is not going to help the children. I’m not sure if I agree with that, but I’ve seen kids out on my hikes who appear to be in far greater need than the ones in the orphanage. It’s been in my mind to find an opportunity to provide some direct help to those who need it most.
So it occurred to me that my neighbor’s situation may indeed be that opportunity. I know her well enough to know that my support will not be wasted on selfish needs, drugs or alcohol. There were only eight or nine kids at the orphanage, so providing for her five does not really diminish the overall impact of my contribution. My goal in giving has always been to “make a difference” and I think making my neighbor’s family my primary charity accomplishes that.
We’ll see how this works out. It was gratifying to see the look of relief on her face when I told her of my plan and provided my first installment of cash. One of my long range goals is to help a worthy individual attend college or vocational school. That’s how you can change a life and break the cycle of poverty. We’ll see if her eldest (a junior in high school) studies hard and warrants that opportunity.
It’s probably gauche to write about this on the blog. I’m not trying to brag and act like I’m some kind of saint or something. In fact, my motivations are pretty much in keeping with my selfish nature. By helping a few I am alleviating some of the guilt that comes with living a “rich” life whilst surrounded by poverty.
I may live in the Philippines geographically, but my lifestyle is decidedly not Filipino. I’m not bragging or complaining, it is what it is, and this result was obviously my choice. I wanted to spend my retirement years as easily and as comfortably as possible. And given that I chose to live in a third world country that meant staying separate and apart from most of the locals.
Now, my place is one of the older and smaller houses in the neighborhood, a gated subdivision called Alta Vista.And from my residence I enjoy views like this one. It is also nice to be above the flooding that inevitably accompanies rainy season here.Meanwhile, my neighbors right outside Alta Vista are living like this (or worse).
Of course, having money makes a difference and I’m comparatively rich compared to most of the locals. Which is not to say that all Filipinos in the area are living in abject poverty, far from it. There are many clean and modern looking apartments in town, that while spartan, do provide comfortable shelter. In fact, many of my fellow expats live amongst the Filipinos in these neighborhoods and gain the full flavor of life in the Philippines. Now some of that flavor is constantly crowing roosters and LOUD videoke late into the night, which is another reason why I’ve chosen to live separate and apart. I don’t think I’m better or anything like that, I just want to live a life that is as familiar and comfortable as possible. And yes, I know that means I miss out on some the unique aspects of Filipino culture.
I’m not even adventurous when it comes to local food delicacies. I can name four or five dishes that I’ve at least tried, but none of them stand out as something I crave or desire on a regular basis.
When I eat out it tends to be familiar dishes like these pork chops.And when I cook at home, it’s old favorites like baby back ribs.
Honestly, I don’t even spend a lot of time with Filipino members of the community. My hangouts are all Western oriented with almost no Filipino males around. I interact some with my driver, although his English is very poor. And of course, I enjoy spending time with the friendly Filipina bargirls I encounter.
Who tend to be very warm and welcoming. Of course, that’s their job, but still…
Anyway, those were just some reflections that occurred to me while walking. Living here and being part of the life here are two entirely different things. At this point I have no regrets about my choices and perhaps in time I’ll open myself up more to increased integration within the Filipino community.
Hmm….Well, there’s this…I do maintain a strong belief system!
So, that’s where things stand. I suppose reading between the lines you might discern that I’m not entirely satisfied with my choices, but I’m taking life here one day at a time and keeping an open mind for the next big thing that might come along. Stay tuned!
Most men and women lead lives at the worst so painful, at the best so monotonous, poor and limited that the urge to escape, the longing to transcend themselves if only for a few moments, is and has always been one of the principal appetites of the soul.” –Aldous Huxley
Interestingly (to me), I first posted the above quote on this date four years ago. And it still resonates. I’m not sure if that is an indication that I’m stuck in a rut or that Mr. Huxley’s thought is a universal truth on the meaning (meaninglessness?) of life. Anyway, I like it.
The quote was good fodder for thought as I did my morning walk. My life here is better than the life I left behind, no question about that. But there is no denying the repetitiveness of my daily routines is indeed monotonous and leaves my soul hungry for meaningfulness. Now, I don’t mean to say I’m in despair or that I’m living a life of quiet desperation. Far from it. But the recent death within my small circle here is a stark reminder that I need to get off my ass and make the best of whatever time remains for me in this life.
The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats. A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.
Henry David Thoreau
For some reason I got to thinking about some of the training sessions the government wasted money on saw fit to send me to during the course of my 35 year career in Uncle Sam’s service. Many of these would include some type of “inspirational” segment where an overpaid speaker would presumably motivate us to greatness through the power of their words.
One that I recall involved a theme of “don’t sweat the small stuff”. The speaker drew a time line on his whiteboard with annotations for birth at one end and death at the other. He said being born and dying are big things. And everything in between is the small stuff. Well, I’m not sure how valuable that insight was but I do remember it all these years later. And yeah, I do try and remind myself that in the grand scheme of things my “problems” don’t amount to much of anything. As one Filipina friend told me “I worry everyday about how I’m going to feed my kids. And you complain because some woman hurt your feelings? You are blessed.”
Another training I recall had a more practical work application. It talked about manager’s getting bogged down by striving for perfection in their own work or in that of their subordinates. You can spend hours re-working a memo written for your signature or you can accept that the memo as written serves its intended purpose. The word the instructor used for this concept was “satisfices”. At least as a government manager, I found that satisfices was nearly always good enough. These days when I consider my life I can acknowledge it is perhaps not all it could be but I can also accept that it satisfices. It could certainly be much, much worse, that’s for sure.
And then I remembered a short story by Ernest Hemingway I read way back when in a literature class in college. It was called “A Clean Well-Lighted Place” and it was a story about nothing and the nothingness of life. I just did a search and saw that back in December 2006 I was also channeling this story. Funny how that works. And damn, in October 2014 the story was speaking to me once again. This was during that period where Jee Yeun first declined to return to the USA with me. I didn’t know it then of course, but that proved to be the beginning of the end for us. Anyway, here is one analysis of Hemingway’s story:
A Clean, Well Lighted Place” is Hemingway’s paean to a type of existential nihilism, an exploration of the meaning, or lack thereof, of existence. It clearly expresses the philosophy that underlies the Hemingway canon, dwelling on themes of death, futility, meaninglessness, and depression. Through the thoughts and words of a middle-aged Spanish waiter, Hemingway encapsulates the main tenet of his existential philosophy. Life is inherently meaningless and leads inevitably to death, and the older one gets, the clearer these truths become and the less able one is to impose any kind of order on one’s existence or maintain any kind of positivity in one’s outlook.
Here’s another, which strikes me as a little more scholarly. I wonder what ever happened to the paper I wrote for course credit? Apparently it didn’t make it to the internet. Anyway, A Clean Well-Lighted Place is not exactly the story of my life. At least not yet! But I like it. If you have not read it, you can have it read to you. Takes less than ten minutes and I deem it to be time well spent!
This post really went off in a weird direction, didn’t it? Anyway, despite appearances I’m doing fine and I am optimistic I’ll be doing even finer in the days to come.
It was all nothing, and a man was nothing, too…Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it was nada y pues nada y pues nada. Our nada who art in nada nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give us this nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada. Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee…
Before I knew Greg was ill I had planned on visiting Alley Cats on Tuesday afternoon to throw darts and hand out pasalubong (souvenirs) from my trip to Korea. Greg would normally be there for the tourney as well, but of course this time his only presence was in the form of a donation box to help fund his funeral expenses. It did put a damper on my mood and I was too late to play (having made a second trip to the hospital) so I just sat and watched the competition. Well, sat and drank beer while I watched that is.
So, sitting at the table next to me was Greg’s buddy Patrick. We did our usual small talk and I couldn’t help but wonder to myself why I hadn’t seen him at the hospital. He was certainly much closer to Greg than I was. But not my business and no big deal to me. When the tourney was completed I bought all the girls working a round of drinks. I was having my own private wake for Greg in a way I thought he might appreciate. It also meant I had five gals sitting with me at my table which facilitated handing out the pasabulong (mostly trinkets like key chains and pens).
Marissa had also gone to the hospital and was actually with Irene (Greg’s girlfriend) when the doctor announced that Greg was dead. It was good that she was there to provide some comfort. Anyway, Irene apparently did her goodbyes, hugging and kissing the corpse. And in something that I assume is a Filipino thing, posing for pictures with the body. Me, I don’t even like to attend funerals. My preference is to remember the living person, not viewing the remains.
So Marissa had joined us at my table and was speaking in Tagalog with the girls. And then she started showing them pictures of the dead Greg. I didn’t want to see that so I turned my head. Patrick did see and he went nuts. Started shouting that’s sick, who does that, that’s fucked up, and he kept at for a good long time. I finally turned to him and said “I don’t like it either, but it’s a Filipino thing, so just don’t look”. Nope, he kept right on shouting and making disparaging remarks about Marissa for having the audacity to photograph Greg (at the girlfriends insistence). I’d finally had enough and told Patrick to shut the fuck up. If you don’t like Filipino ways, go somewhere else. That was enough to get him to direct his ire at me, which is fine.
Now Patrick is a useless drunk. He comes to Alley Cats everyday in the early afternoon and drinks until he can barely walk. I don’t give a shit about that, he’s just another pathetic loser in my book. I mean, the guy is probably close to my age and has a young Filipina wife and a two year old child. Again, to each his own but who knowingly fathers a child at that age? And if it was an accident, who doesn’t know better at that age? Regardless, given his lifestyle choices it is very doubtful Patrick will live long enough to see the child reach double digits in age. About all I can say on his behalf is that he did at least make sure his kid attained U.S. citizenship.
Another thing I dislike about Patrick is that he is a chickenshit coward. There’s a guy named Rudy who is in his late seventies and his girlfriend is the sister of Patrick’s wife. Now, I don’t know the story, but for whatever reason Patrick doesn’t like Rudy at all. On the occasions when Rudy is at Alley Cats for darts, Patrick taunts him and mocks him. Rudy does his best to ignore it but it is really a disgusting behavior to witness. I of course mind my own business and never say anything, but as I mentioned, it is just a chickenshit thing to do.
So, Patrick is all up in my face. I stand up and tell him “I’m not Rudy, asshole. If you want to fuck with me, bring it on! He started backing away and I’m all “come on motherfucker, let’s see how tough you really are”. About this time the girls at my table grabbed me and pulled me away. Punk ass Patrick was backing away towards the door. Finally the girls hustled me off to the other side of the bar and admonished me “you are better than him. Don’t lower yourself to his level”. I nodded and calmed myself down.
I think they were all surprised. I very rarely get that out of control upset. I can probably attribute my behavior to being a bit emotional over Greg’s death and not willing to let a lowlife like Patrick talk down to me or my friends. That and the beers I had consumed. Regardless, I sincerely doubt that he’ll make the mistake of challenging me again. The girls were right though. I am better than him and he’s not worth the trouble.
To reiterate, I too think it is fucked up to photograph the dead. I wouldn’t do it. And I might say to someone who does it “I think that’s fucked up”. But I wouldn’t go on and on about it nor would I insult that person in a personal manner. But for all his so-called outrage and offense, I can only say that Patrick didn’t care enough to visit his friend while he was actually still alive in the hospital. So fuck him.
I bought the girls another round of drinks and then I ordered us up some food (chicken wings, chicken fingers, shanghai lumpia, and of course, rice) from Sit-n-Bull’s delivery service). After we all ate till we were full I ordered a final round of drinks and my personal wake concluded without further incident.
Interestingly, this photo from one year ago popped up this morning in the Facebook memories feature:
The girl wearing the shirt is Meica who was also seated at my table last night. I just wish I had remembered those words. It would have been a perfect rejoinder to Patrick’s loud mouth. Also of interest in this photo is that the man in the background is the recently deceased Greg.
Anyway, that was yesterday. This afternoon I’m heading down to Angeles City for the night. Two Barretto bars are competing in a dance competition there and I’m going cheer for my hometown teams. Probably just as well that I get out of town for a few hours and get my head back on straight.
Peace out!
UPDATE: My oh my, I see I used the “Aftermath” title once before. On October 31, 2017. The aftermath in that post was the carnage that resulted from Loraine fucking me over. Today’s aftermath is much, much easier to deal with, that’s for sure.
It was also great to read Kevin’s supportive comment again and remembering the Hindu concept of samsara he explained. As strange as it may seem, I do believe I am making progress. Perhaps in a two steps forward, one step back kind of way, but progress regardless.
And just like that it was over. The vacation I mean. Now I’m in the purgatory that is Incheon airport killing the long hours before my flight at 9:55 p.m.
But I’m killing those hours in style. For the first time ever I’ve booked myself a room at a transit hotel.
It’s actually similar in size to some regular hotels I’ve stayed in. This one reminds me of the Spartan, but functional, Red Planet hotel.And I’ve never had a room with this kind of view, that’s for sure. $60 buks for six hours.
Had a Taco Bell lunch and I reckon I’ll kill some time with a nice nap before my 8:30 check-out time.
My last night in Seoul was reminiscent of many nights I’ve enjoyed over the years. As is my custom I started out at Shenanigans where I was joined by my nephew Justin and my friend Becky. We sat at the window and enjoyed the people watching on the street below while quaffing our brews. Later on Justin and I wandered over to Scrooge Pub so I could say a final goodbye to the owner there, a sexy Korean lass.
Had a little incident there though. Some guy (sounded Aussie) a couple of chairs down the bar from me told me not to smoke in the bar. I gave my standard response of “I’m not smoking, I’m vaping”. He said “I don’t care, it smells like shit, take it outside”. So, I’d been drinking but I managed to maintain my self control and simply responded “You don’t tell me what to do, if the owner wants me to go outside she can tell me”. He got the owner’s attention and she told him “e-cigarette is okay here”. So that was that. But I really hate assholes like that. If he had been polite about it bothering him I likely would have moved to the other side of the bar. But fuck him.
After Scrooge, we went to another bar (JJ’s) where I said some more goodbyes. And then I ended the night at the oldest bar in Itaewon, the Grand Ole Opry. The bar has been featured here at LTG several times over the years, including the story about my first visit in April 2005. It was funny re-reading that post just now, especially the comments from ex-wife #3 and one from my now deceased father.
In another example of the bar’s timelessness, last night’s waitress was the same woman who was working there when I first visited all those years ago. Back then there were lots of folks (including Koreans) who would be out on the dance floor doing some good ol’ country dancing. I was drunk and had the urge to get my two steppin’ on so I asked the waitress if she’d dance with me in exchange for a drink. She responded ok, but just one dance. And so we did and it was fun (at least for me). Afterwards I mentioned all the good times I had over the years and she surprised me with “yeah, but you were always bringing other girls to dance with”. Well, damn.
Anyway, stumbled back to the hotel shortly thereafter, slept late (for me), did a McDonald’s breakfast, read Kevin’s post about our lunch, then packed up and caught the Airport Limo out to Incheon. And here I sit reminiscing over the life I’m finally putting behind me.
It’s been quite a ride, wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
The life ahead of me includes my two loving dogs. And I’ll be home in time to make tomorrow’s Hash. I’m ready.
I reckon I’m probably above average in both categories.
Our paths may never cross again Maybe my heart will never mend But I’m glad for all the good times Cause you’ve brought me so much sunshine And love was the best it’s ever been
I wouldn’t have missed it for the world Wouldn’t have missed loving you girl You’ve made my whole life worth while, with your smile I wouldn’t trade one memory Cause you mean too much to me Even though I lost you girl I wouldn’t have missed it for the world
They say that all good things must end Loves comes and goes just like the wind You’ve got your dreams to follow But if I had the chance tomorrow You know I’d do it all again
I wouldn’t have missed it for the world Wouldn’t have missed loving you girl You’ve made my whole life worth while, with your smile I wouldn’t trade one memory Cause you mean too much to me Even though I lost you girl I wouldn’t have missed it for the world
Oh I wouldn’t trade one memory Cause you mean too much to me Even though I lost you girl I wouldn’t have missed it for the world
I wouldn’t have missed it for the world Wouldn’t have missed loving you girl You’ve made my whole life worth while, with your smile I wouldn’t trade one memory Cause you mean too much to me Even though I lost you girl I wouldn’t have missed it for the world
At a reader’s request here I am this morning in front of my former home and castle, Star Palace.
Today I left Anjeong-ri, most likely for the final time. I think I’ve made my peace with the past now and it is time to move on to whatever the future may hold.
As last days go, yesterday was a good one. Or good enough at least. A former employee of mine took off work early to spend the afternoon with me. I will admit upfront that I’ve been crushing on this woman for a long time, but as a subordinate she was strictly off limits. That’s not the case now so I was excited to see what she had in mind. I know the fantasies I concocted ran the gamut from an innocent lunch to a pornographic sexual encounter. The reality turned out to be fully clothed yet oddly satisfying.
We went to a park outside Pyeongtaek city. A very nice park actually. One I’d never heard of or seen.
It was a riverside park and featured many water-centered attractions like these un- gilded lilies.And this stony old fisherman waiting an eternity for a bite.
So we walked and we talked, we shared some laughs. And little by little we began to open up to each other about our feelings.
Be careful what you wish for…
We sat on a bench, held hands, and spoke about what was in our hearts. I told her this moment was what I had been missing the most–some genuine shared intimacy. It felt so good and right and natural. And then she said those words. “I love you…like a brother.” And you know, I’m okay with that. We do not share the same destiny but I’m glad she was a part of my life here. She will always have a special place in my heart and I will not forget how I felt as sat beside her in the park. A good reminder of what I hope to find for my own someday.
After the park we shared dinner with a couple other co-workers, hugged, and said our goodbyes.
I went back to my hotel and shortly thereafter received a message from Mi Young (the woman who had stood me up the night before) asking where I was. Seems she thought we had agreed to reschedule our date. Ah well, why not? So we met at a Mexican place she likes. I told I had just eaten, but we shared some appetizers. Mi Young has been involved in an animal rescue shelter here for the past few years. Pretty much to the exclusion of everything else, including me. I did provide some assistance in spreading the word on social media which resulted in quite a few volunteers joining the effort and providing her some much needed assistance. My tentative efforts to woo her romantically were rebuffed however. I think last night was her effort to express her regrets. Anyway, I will always admire her and hope she will find some balance in her life. She’s a good woman.
And after that I did the rounds and said my goodbyes to my barfriends at Crystal, Ariang, Hot Top, and Horse and Cow. Then I stumbled on home.
Up early to catch the train to Seoul. Met up with the nephew, Won Jun and Beckie at JJ’s bar where they were watching basketball. Then me and Justin were joined by the esteemed Kevin Kim for a Brazilian steak house lunch at Tabom Brazil.
The food was good, but not as good as the conversation. Thanks, Kev!
After lunch we said our goodbyes and I did a little pasalubong shopping. In the Philippines it is a tradition that you bring some gifts for your friends back home after traveling. Well, they are cheap ass souvenir trinkets, but I reckon they’ll do.
And now I’m just about done. One more Saturday night in Itaewon. Time to get started.
Those times I waited for you seem so long ago I wanted you far too much to ever let you go You know I never got by, “I feel it too” And I guess I never could stand to lose It’s such a pity to say Goodbye to you Goodbye to you
It’s no secret that I’ve been unhappy for most of my trip here. The real question in my mind is “why?”. As I’ve been retracing the steps I’ve taken on roads and trails when I called this town home I have endeavored to recall what I was thinking and feeling at that time. And yes, I was unhappy then for the most part as well.
Lots of time for thinking about things on walks like the one I took this morning.
When I moved to Anjeong-ri in May 2017 I expected to leave in September. My goal had been to see Eighth Army through the transition from Yongsan to Humphreys and then re-retire. After some arm twisting from my staff and 8A leadership I consented to stay on through May of 2018. I didn’t make the move down south without bringing some baggage along with me. And I acquired some more after I arrived.
Seoul is one of my favorite cities and the only place I had ever lived in Korea. Anjeong-ri is little more than a country village with a bunch of bars that cater to young soldiers. Admittedly I also had a bad attitude due in large part to a succession of failed relationships. But as I’ve been walking here this week I’ve come to realize I’ve been unfair and never really gave this town a chance. The problem it seems was not where I was, rather it was about who I was during that period of time. My mindset of “I can’t wait to get out of this burg” permeated nearly all my thoughts and prevented me from accepting things for what they are and making the best of my time here.
That attitude poisoned any chance of my being happy during that time. I didn’t pursue relationships because I thought I had my future secured with Loraine at my side. When she proved to be unworthy of my love and trust I was so devastated as to be blinded to other opportunities that presented themselves. Eva was one of those. I had lunch with Donna, my former Deputy, the other day and she asked about Eva. When I told her we had basically parted ways she chided me for being so foolish. Donna said when she say us together she could tell how much Eva cared for me and how our interactions appeared so natural and loving. Hmm. Anyway, after that conversation I did send Eva a message apologizing for treating her unkindly. She responded with graciousness and relayed the happy news that she had finally found the true love she had been searching for. I of course wished them well.
I see things a little differently now I suppose. Certainly nothing wrong with Anjeong-ri. It has its charm and its own kind of beauty. In fact, in many ways it is not unlike my new hometown of Barrio Barretto. Well, the foreigners living there are all as old as dirt of course, but the small town friendliness is the same. I’ve honestly been surprised that so many people I interacted with in the past still remember me and seem genuinely happy to see me. And it’s not just the bargirls, thank you very much. For example, today I got a haircut and the barber nearly dropped her scissors she was so surprised to see me. Welcomed me back, asked about life in the Philippines, and just made me feel warm with kindness. I laughed when she mentioned how much happier I look now compared to when she last saw me. And oh yeah, almost everyone comments on my brownness and how much weight I’ve lost.
The sign on my barber shop. I must be ugly.
Tonight I have a dinner “date” with Mi Young, the woman who first got me involved in animal rescue with the shelter she’s devoted her life to here. My support was financial, not the sweat and toil she puts into it. Anyway, the “date” is in quotes because after the Loraine fiasco I tried to pursue elevating our friendship to the next level. That turned out to be a bridge too far. I suppose because by then I was such a short timer here it made no sense to her to get involved with the likes of me. Plus I’m 20-some years older than her. Anyway, she contacted me and suggested dinner and I readily accepted the offer so we shall see.
Tomorrow afternoon I’m meeting up with one of my former employees. It was her idea and is probably innocent. But truthfully I always had a crush on her and obviously as the boss I could never act on it. Now, no such restrictions apply! Again, I’m probably getting carried away with my fantasies, but even if I only get to eat some Korean that’s good enough. Er, I mean, Korean food of course!
Yesterday I met a new girl working in The Wall bar. Just arrived from the Philippines two weeks ago. From Manila. Unusually smart and articulate. How do I know she’s smart? Well, when I was showing her photos of my dogs (she’s a dog lover too) on the blog she asked “is that your website? Will you give me the URL so I can read it? Shit, maybe she’s reading this post! Oh well. Anyway, she’s also a musician and she came to Korea to work for one year so she can send her teenage daughter to a better school. Well, I only talked to her for an hour or so, but still I was thinking if she had arrived while I was here she might have been a game changer. Sometimes it’s all about timing I suppose. But we are hooked up on Facebook now and if she does remain single and does in fact return to the the PI (two BIG ifs) it could possibly be, well, it could be something. Perhaps. Time is a bitch though.
Alright, that’s probably enough. My point is that I’ve come to realize it’s all about attitude and making the best of things as they are, not as how you wish them to be. And writing that makes it all seem so obvious but I had to walk a helluva lot of steps to figure that out. Now I can focus on remembering this new perspective.
Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!
Let me close out this post with some photos:
Everyone at my old office was really excited that a Texas Roadhouse had opened on base. So I took them to lunch there. Everyone seemed to enjoy the meal. I know I did…
You know, I just recalled writing a post in February 2018 called “Sorrow Floats” Give it a read to get a real time feel of just how much I didn’t like living in Anjeong-ri. In that post I talked about three new businesses that had recently opened and I predicted their imminent demise.
One of those was Pippi Burger and it has indeed now closed. I’m happy to report that I was wrong about the other two mentioned in that post. They are open anyway. Can’t say I’ve seen many customers in them this trip though.
Oh, and that tall building in the background is where I am staying this trip. It’s called Hotel Joy (haha) and was brand new when I left last year. Fully booked this week, so good for them!And finally, Facebook reminds me that it was three years ago today that I shaved off my mustache. Thought you’d want to know.
Okay, I am feeling better about things. Also, I am very much looking forward to going back home on Sunday. My dogs miss me!
It’s a damn good thing that I’m not in Alabama because I’ve decided to abort the last few days of my vacation. I’ll be leaving Sunday as opposed to Thursday now.
I’ve alluded to how things just aren’t working out for me on this trip in earlier posts. I mean, it’s been great seeing some old friends and all but I’m also having to deal with the old baggage I thought I’d left behind me. Instead it seems I’ve just ripped the scab off a still festering wound. Yeah, I know. I’m a fucking pussy. I’ve been berating myself during my long ass walks to no avail. I’m just not happy and really don’t want to prolong the suffering.
A good metaphor for my life here–alone in an empty bar.
Anyway, I’m meeting some friends tonight for dinner. Will take my former team members out for lunch tomorrow and maybe hook up with a few others before I depart Anjeong-ri on Saturday morning. Otherwise there is nothing for me here and it is good to be reminded why I was in such a hurry to get out of Dodge. The better question is why the hell did I come back. No answer for that!
Honestly though, I never gave it a real chance for the year I lived here. I always had one foot in the future (the Philippines) and one foot in the past (my broken life in Seoul). I regret not just embracing the experience and trying to enjoy each day for what it was. But what these past few days, both here and in Seoul, have brought home loud and clear–I no longer have a life in Korea. Time has moved on and it is past time that I did so as well.
In the meantime I continue to retrace old steps. Today I did a four hour walk circumnavigating the perimeter of Camp Humphreys.
I’ll never do that again!
I’m used to breaking up my walks into morning/afternoon sessions. Doing four hours in one stretch kicked my ass pretty good.
The river section of the hike. Nice, flat, and easy! I’m also enjoying the moderate temperatures here.I have no idea why it’s there, but this setup seems to capture for me the essence of life in Anjeong-ri…By the time I was back in the civilized world I’d worked up an appetite. Didn’t want to find out what Sam’s dog tastes like though. Instead I took a rest at the GS25 store and enjoyed a Coke Zero and some Oreo cookies.Facebook tells me that I took a similar hike two years ago. I was being facetious in my recitation of the Green Acres theme song. Yeah, stick a fork in me. I’m done.
Yesterday I took a smooth 50 minute ride on the Korail ITX down to Pyeongtaek Station, then cabbed to my hotel in Anjeong-ri.
I lived here for exactly one year (left on the day my lease expired) and have been gone for just over one year. Still know a few folks here and hope I’ll be able to meet up with some of them between now and Thursday.
Yesterday I had lunch with my former Deputy and a old team member at the new golf course clubhouse on Camp Humphreys. It was nice catching up with her and getting the news about what’s been going on at work since I departed. I don’t miss it much!
I’ve really been amazed at how much things have changed in the little burg of Anjeong-ri in only a year. Tons of new construction–high rise apartments, restaurants, and of course bars.
Speaking of bars I visited a few of my old haunts last night. I was a little surprised and touched that the staff in most of them remembered me and gave me a warm welcome back. Which is good because I didn’t see anyone else I knew out and about. I was astounded at being charged W8,000 (more than $7.00) for a San Miguel Light. I pay around a buck fifty for that same beer back home. At those prices I’m not sure I could afford to retire here! Not that I’d want to.
That’s me at my old darts haunt, IDK. The bartender even remembered my drink, Miller Lite (they never carried SML). When I said beer please, she responded “we don’t have Miller Lite now, we carry Coors Light”. Wow, I was surprised. Coors Light was my beer back when I was a young man but it’s been a long time since I’ve had one. Practically a steal at only $7.00.
And speaking of IDK (I asked what that stood for but everyone says “I don’t know” so I still have no idea) Facebook reminded me this morning it was exactly two years ago that I won my first dart tournament down here.
I wasn’t quite as brown in those days.
Anyway, I got up this morning and had breakfast at a restaurant called “Me and You”. It’s where I had my first breakfast when I moved here. New location, but the food was the same (average). I was the only customer and the ajumma was delighted to have me, so that was nice.
After breakfast I caught a cab to Good Morning hospital in Pyeongtaek city to see about scheduling my physical examination. I had it done there last year and figured they’d have all that history to compare with this year’s result. Except they told me I wouldn’t get the results/consult with the doctor for two weeks! Well, that ain’t gonna work. So I won’t be getting an exam after all. Which was one of the primary reasons for making this trip. What a fiasco. And yes, I should have done my due diligence prior to traveling.
I walked home from the hospital which took close to two hours. This afternoon I did some of my park loops from the good ol’ days (which really weren’t all that good). I’m planning the long ass river walk that circumnavigates the perimeter of the Army base (outside the fence of course) in the morning.
Tonight? Well, I reckon I’ll visit the bars I missed last night. One guy wants to get together for darts so we’ll see about that as well.
And oh yeah, here’s a serious religious question I stumbled upon while perusing the internets today: Did Jesus shit? I report, you decide.
Flew business class on Asiana which as usual was comfortable and well-serviced. Enjoyed a bowl of rice porridge and slept most of the trip. We arrived at Incheon right on schedule at 0700.
Since I was upfront, I was first off the plane and first in line at immigration. Sailed through there and headed down to baggage claim. I knew I’d have a wait, so I found a seat in the lavatory and enjoyed my first Korean bidet experience in over a year. After taking care of business I came out just as my bag was arriving on the carousel. Grabbed it and made my way to the airport railroad (AREX).
The express train didn’t leave until 8:10 arriving at Seoul Station forty minutes later. The “all-stops” train left at 7:40 and got me there sooner so I didn’t wait. Maybe should have as the train got crowded and a little uncomfortable. But I enjoyed the scenery along the way anyway. After being gone a little more than a year I was especially impressed with the infrastructure and just the way things “work” here. Pretty much the opposite of how things are in the Philippines.
Once I arrived at Seoul Station I made my way outside to the taxi stand and then decided to just walk to my hotel in Itaewon. It wasn’t even 9:00 a.m. yet and I doubted I’d be able to check-in so early. Walking wasn’t bad except for the dragging my wheeled suitcase behind me like a homeless person. Arm got tired after awhile but I switched out and carried on. The weather here is pleasantly cool and feels downright chilly compared to the hot sticky mess I had just left behind back home.
As I suspected the folks at the Crown hotel informed me that check-in wasn’t until 3:00 p.m. I asked (pleaded really) if I couldn’t get in earlier. The guy told me I could get the room at 1:00 and he wouldn’t charge me extra. I thanked him and checked my bags. Then I headed out to explore the mean streets of Itaewon.
I’m not sure if it’s the town that’s changed or if it is just me but it looked and felt different somehow. Some of the old familiar places were gone and others had moved to new locations. Lots of new shops and business too. It’s definitely an area in transition. Not real surprising given that almost all of the American military forces have moved south now. Still, plenty of foreigners out and about of course, just a different crowd.
And it wasn’t long before I started wrestling with the demons from the past again. I was a little surprised by how powerful those old memories were and how sad they made me. It was a good reminder that my life here has ended and I really am better off in the Philippines. How bad was I haunted? Almost to the point of contacting Asiana to see if I could change to an earlier departure date. Almost.
Anyway, I walked and walked. My former housekeeper Josie messaged me that she was at McDonlds so I met her there and we had a nice chat. Then I moved back out to the street and walked some more. Around 11:00 I was feeling hungry so I started looking for somewhere to eat. Linus’ BBQ wasn’t open yet and Manimals was closed too (permanently perhaps? The sign was somewhat ambiguous). Anyway, I decided to go for Mexican at On the Border.
The food was good compared to the Mexican I’ve found in Barretto. But I experienced my first bout of sticker shock. That plate and a Coke was about 20,000 Won. I’d have paid less than half that for a similar meal back home.
After lunch I was able to check into my room and took a short nap. Then I did a nice walk along the Han riverside that looked like this:
The old familiar places.
Back to the room for a shower then I headed out for some nighttime activities at my favorite hangout–Shenanigans.
Enjoyed the taste of home with some San Miguel Lights. Chatted with the owner a bit and later my nephew Justin came by.
It was sweet when my favorite flower ajumma came in and saw me. She was so surprised and kind–gave me a big hug and told me how happy she was to see me again. I of course bought a bouquet flowers–just like old times.
I pay about $1.50 a beer in the PI. Here there were over $6.00. Ah well, I’m on vacation, but geez. Justin and I popped into Scrooge Pub which was pretty empty. The owner (a nice Korean woman I’m rather fond of) was not happy with her decision to get into the bar business, especially now that almost all her customer base is in Pyeongtaek. She wants to sell, but good luck finding a buyer. I told her we could open a bar together in Barretto but she didn’t seem interested in that idea at all. Ah well.
I was drunk and it was time to go home. A quick stop for a sundae at Dairy Queen and Justin and I said our goodnights. And so ended my first day back home in the Land of the Morning Calm.
One of my lives within this lifetime is the one I’ve spent as a manwhore. I don’t know what got into me, but I know what I got into. If you get my meaning. Anyway, once a whore always a whore I suppose. But the heydays of that life were from the 1980’s through the early 2000’s.
Now, back in high school I had two girlfriends at the same time. In my defense, the first one moved to San Diego two hours away. So it only seemed natural that I’d have someone local to love, right? That lasted until they both showed up in the same place at the same time. After that I had zero girlfriends.
Not too long afterwards I got the girl I was dating pregnant and married her. I was faithful to her until she wasn’t. Which led me to meeting KaraLynne, the love of my life. I told that story here. Suffice to say she wound up breaking my heart. I guess as much as anything that set me on the road to whoredom, although that was never really my intended destination. Or so I choose to believe.
So, this would have been around 1983 I suppose and I looked like this:
Oh, wait a minute. That’s not me.That’s me. I understand that some people thought Tom Selleck looked like me. Go figure.
Anyway, I was single again and looking for love. Usually in the wrong places. Heh, some things never change. I was a mailman and um, I “dated”, several gals I met on my mail route (but never during working hours! Okay, maybe once during working hours). I had a pretty passionate fling with my barber Peggy. And then I met Linda who was destined to be my soulmate, but not my life mate. Shortly thereafter I packed it in and left Arizona for a new life in Oklahoma and Arkansas (I was right on the border, working in Fort Smith, AR and living in Monroe, OK).
Wow! My first exposure to Southern women. And what can I say about them except they know what they want and they ain’t shy about asking for it. It was a totally new experience being the pursued and not the pursuer. My first weekend there I went to a country bar (I’m not sure there were any other kinds). I’m sitting there watching the action and a young woman walks up and says in a sweet Southern twang “are you just gonna sit there or did you come to dance?” So we danced in the bar and later on we were dancing horizontally.
And that’s pretty much the way it worked all the time. I met and deflowered my last virgin there. Dated a 37 year old and a 23 year old simultaneously (I was now 30) and interspersed them with gals I met on the mail route and in the bars. Wild times for sure. But the method to my madness was the thought that I might have to date a hundred women before I met another KaraLynne. Of course, that was a fools mission and in the end all I got was fucked. Ahem.
Eventually I married again so my kids would have someone to mother them. We moved to South Carolina and my career took off. I started traveling quite a bit and would occasionally dabble with women I’d meet on the road. Hotel bars can be such lonely places don’t you know. But I wasn’t very smart about it and got caught a couple of times which didn’t help the marriage. Once I got busted because I made the mistake of meeting up with a woman at her house. Her ex was a cop and he drove by, saw my car, and ran the plates. Then he called my wife. And my wife called my boss. It was a mess of my own making, that’s for sure.
After I had moved on to Wife #3 I had an affair with a co-worker. She was a big Chicago Bulls fan and since I had a ton of frequent flyer miles I booked a surprise trip to Chicago to see them play. We had a layover in Pittsburgh and our flight was delayed. The woman in the USAirways club helped us re-book so we wouldn’t miss the game. We made it and in appreciation I bought the agent a souvenir from the game which I presented to her on our return trip through Pittsburgh. She was so pleased that she called my wife in Virginia and thanked her for the kindness her and I had shown in getting her the gift (you see, she thought the woman I was with was my wife). I just never had much luck at cheating I suppose.
Maybe I learned my lessons, because I never cheated on Wife #4.
For all the good it did me.
After Jee Yeun destroyed me I’ve pretty much just been floundering. When it comes to relationships, I’ve got the Midas touch in reverse–they all turn to shit. Ironically, I live in a town chock full of whore bars but I have no interest in whoring these days. Maybe it’s old age or maybe I’ve just had enough. I would enjoy being in a stable, loving relationship with my one and only, but I’m not sure I have the balls to risk it. I’ve got a lifetime of bad Karma to pay for.
Now I think I’m going down to the well tonight And I’m going to drink till I get my fill And I hope when I get old I don’t sit around thinking about it But I probably will Yeah, just sitting back trying to recapture A little of the glory of, well time slips away And leaves you with nothing mister but Boring stories of
Glory days well they’ll pass you by Glory days in the wink of a young girl’s eye Glory days, glory days
It started raining yesterday about two hours prior to the start of the Hash. I was worried about how well the powder I had laid on trail would hold up but there was nothing to be done about it and after about 45 minutes the skies cleared.
As the Hare I didn’t actually walk the trail with the Hashers (other than the first kilometer as I made my way home to man the beer check). But I got good feedback that the trail was well-marked and easy to follow. That was one of my main goals. Several others came to me to compliment the trail and to say they enjoyed the hike. The only real complaint I heard was about the long trail portion I added being boring. Yeah, that’s legitimate. All flat and on roads through subdivisions for the most part. The runners wanted distance and I gave it to them. Too bad if it was not challenging enough. Oh, and I did have a couple of people say the trail was harder than they expected it to be. I’m not sure how to take that, maybe they think I’m a wimp?
Bottom line, no one got lost and no one got hurt. I’ll take that any day! One of the Hashers posted photos from the hike on the SBH3 Facebook page. Let me share some of them here:
A nice map of my trail. The green line indicating the Long Trail addition.The Hashers stand in rapt attention and awe of the amazing Hare as he provides last minute guidance on the day’s trail.And we are “on-on”!Making our way through Alta Vista shortly before I left the Hashers to their own devices.“Have a nice hike!”It was a humid afternoon but at least the rain had stopped.Everyone loves a well-marked trail. At least I do.A quick meet and greet with the younguns…That’s Leech My Nuggets, one of the runners who prefers taking it LONG and HARD. The trail I mean. He’s one that didn’t like the boring long addition to my trail, although he said he did enjoy the rest of it.
Speaking of the runners, I was really quite impressed. The Hash started at 3:30. I got back to my place to man the beer check at 4:00. I estimated I might see the first runner come by at 4:45, but I was wrong about that. A female (don’t know her name) came trotting by at 4:30 and didn’t break stride for a cold drink. Her partner was a couple of minutes behind her. So that’s 8K + on terrain that including two climbs and a fairly steep downhill in one hour. Good job!
Hashers doing what Hashers do.Coming back into Alta Vista for the final trek to the beer check and on-home at Treasure Island.Liquid refreshment at the beer check. Actually, the water and Gatorade I provided was just as popular as the beer. Welcoming the stragglers.And finally, the last of the Hashers on trail arrive.And my day as the Hare was complete after the Hash circle.
Tomorrow I make my debut as the sole Hare responsible for setting this week’s trail with the Subic Bay Hash House Harriers (SBH3). It’s a huge responsibility and an even bigger pain in the ass. Here’s how my day of preparation has gone down (so far).
Up even earlier than normal so I could get on with the business of marking the trail while beating the worst of the heat. I arrived at Johansson’s (our starting point) at 0630 and got to work.
The SBH3 has our own storage room deep in the bowels of Johansson’s.Tools of the Hare trade include jugs to hold the powder we use to mark the trail….…and chalk to further point out direction to the Hashers. I personally detest a poorly marked trail so one of my goals was to give clear indications of which way to go.First order of business was I needed to fill those jugs up with powder. Bastards were pretty damn heavy too. I carried one and put the other in my backpack. I tried not to be stingy with my powder use but I was also keenly aware that I had 6+ kilometers of trail to mark. Turns out I needed every drop of powder I brought.
Now, obviously I’m not an experienced Hare but I had a decision to make. Some Hares prefer to mark the trail the day prior to the Hash. Others do it the morning of. The downside to the day before is that the powder can fade or even worse, wash away should there be rain overnight. Doing it the day of the Hash is a risk because it could be raining that morning or something else could go wrong causing a major fuck up. Anyway, I opted for today. Checking the weather forecast I see there is a possibility of isolated thunderstorms tomorrow. Hopefully all my hard work doesn’t go down the drain before we Hash. Nothing to be done about it I suppose. Well, if it rains this afternoon or tonight, I could go out in the morning and re-mark the trail. I’d rather not of course.
With powder and chalk in hand I commenced to walking the trail I had been piecing together these past few weeks.
And leaving appropriate signs along the way. This is in the Alta Vista subdivision. I’m doing the 1,349th SBH3 trail, hence the “49”.Time to get off the street and into the dirt. As Dorothy might have sang “follow the chalk and white powder”…Out in the countryside I’m marking trees instead of telephone poles…The powder is there to ensure a clear indication of where to turn at intersections is provided. Looking at this photo perhaps I should have laid it on thicker. PLEASE don’t rain on my parade!
So, as I may have previously mentioned, my trail has two medium length uphills and the climbs are not very steep. One significant downhill and then a relatively easy meandering path covering much of “My Bitch”. It does require walking through the yards of a couple squatter shanties. I always feel bad about creating a disturbance, dogs barking and the like. And knowing I’d be leading 30+ Hashers through their enclave is going to make a lousy day for them I suspect. Anyway, to assuage my guilt make up for their inconvenience I handed out tins of cookies as I passed through today. That seemed to be appreciated.
The trail continues on back into Alta Vista on our way “on-home” at Treasure Island in Baloy Beach. And since we are passing by my house I’ve incorporated a beer check into the hike. A stop off to refresh yourself and replace vital bodily liquids prior to hiking that last kilometer to T.I.
Maybe the highlight of the trek?Two cases of beer and another ice chest with water and soft drinks for those so inclined.I didn’t get to prepare the meal I was planning when last week’s on-home wasn’t at my home. But by gawd I’ve got some snacks for any hungry Hashers passing by…With thirsts quenched it’s just a short hike from my place out to T.I.I’m not up on all the Hash trail marking symbols, but I do know this one. Anyone care to hazard a guess as to what it means?
So the short trail is marked and ready. I still need to walk and mark the long trail (another 5K). I may go ahead and do that this afternoon so I can deal with any contingencies that may arise in the morning.
Being a Hare is dirty work and I’ve got the shoes to prove it!
And oh yeah, because of my need to get out and get busy early this morning, Buddy and Lucky had to forego their walk.
Come on guys! No need to pout about it. We’ll go walking again tomorrow. I promise!
Follow the yellow brick road Follow the yellow brick road Follow, follow, follow, follow Follow the yellow brick road
Follow the rainbow over the stream Follow the fellow who follows a dream Follow, follow, follow, follow Follow the yellow brick road
Today is the anniversary of my retirement and also my arrival in the Philippines.
I said goodbye to my Eighth Army family……and left my “palace” in Anjeong-ri.
Got on a plane that same day and started my new life here in the PI. Hopefully y’all have been following along with my “adventures” here at LTG.
Like anything else I suppose, you fall into your routines and rituals in retirement life. Finding ways to pass the hours, not necessarily in a meaningful way, but hopefully in a satisfying way. Reading the blog you might have concluded that pretty much all I do is walk and drink beer. Come to think of it, that is pretty much all I do.
I’m not complaining. Life isn’t perfect here but it’s comfortable at least. Probably my biggest disappointment has been not finding love, which I thought would be relatively easy once I made the move. In large part I know that failure is on me. As more than one reader has pointed out, I’ve been looking for love in all the wrong places. I think in a fucked up kind of way I’m purposely setting myself up for failure. I’m honestly not wanting to put myself out there in such a way that I can be hurt again. Maybe that makes me a coward. Or maybe that makes me smart. Either way, for now I’m probably going to continue playing it safe.
I’ve also had a learning curve when it comes to friendships, at least with Filipinas. Eva proved to be a tremendous disappointment, “ghosting” me for reasons I still don’t understand. Gem simply took the money and ran. Who says you can’t put a price tag on friendship? So my track record at being a good judge of character remains pretty close to 0%. Ah well, live and learn. I don’t make friends easily anyway. I’d say I’ve established some friendly acquaintances amongst the expat community here, and maybe that’s enough.
On a more positive note, I do feel I’ve made good progress on my “making a difference” goal. I have my charity work, primarily with the orphanage. And four Filipinos on my payroll. And then there’s these two guys:
They never stand still long enough for a good picture…
So yeah, on balance I’m happy with the move. It’s a long way from my USA home and family but that life just doesn’t work for me anymore. There are certainly frustrating aspects to living in the Philippines, but on the plus side I’m learning to be patient (deep breath, relax, accept the Filipino way). And even on the worst of days, this is the view from my living room window:
I could do worse. Much worse.
Let’s see what year two holds in store, shall we?
This is the day of the expanding man That shape is my shade There where I used to stand It seems like only yesterday I gazed through the glass At ramblers, wild gamblers That’s all in the past
You call me a fool You say it’s a crazy scheme This one’s for real I already bought the dream So useless to ask me why Throw a kiss and say goodbye I’ll make it this time I’m ready to cross that fine line
UPDATE: Well damn, I used the “one year in” title for a post in January 2006. In that case I was talking about completing my first year in Korea. It was kind of interesting (to me) comparing my perspectives from then and now. What a ride it has truly been!
“We’re the only club event in the world where someone was rushed to the hospital because they forgot to take their drugs.”
So, I saw this article about old folks in the UK getting together on a weekly basis to get down and get wild and it gave me a chuckle. Elderly folks need to party too, don’t ya know?
The other day I had been sitting at Cheap Charlies and musing on life as I sipped beers and watched the world pass by below me. At least the portion of the world within my field of vision. Which is of course the world in which I reside. Anyway, it occurred to me that Barrio Barretto is really just a down and dirty retirement community for oldsters who just aren’t ready to settle down to a quiet and staid lifestyle. And man oh man, I see some expats here who are barely ambulatory but are still out there plying the streets with the help of walkers and canes. Got to respect them for that!
Ha! I’m reporting on this phenomenon as an observer, but of course I’m also a participant. Pretty much everyone who lives here full time is a pensioner of one type or another. The exceptions might be a business owner (most of the bars are foreign owned) and some people work via the Internet. And I’ve met a couple of folks who are just outright wealthy and could live anywhere in the world. It’s telling (about them or here I’m not sure) that they’ve chosen this little corner of the third world to call home.
Anyway, I know people as old as their late seventies. A couple of military retirees in the mid-forties is the other extreme. So, I guess that puts me somewhere in the middle. I’m still relatively healthy and active, which is more than I can say for many of my peers. The fact of the matter is that when I look around me I honestly don’t see anyone I’d want to trade places with. I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing, but it is what it is.
So then, why are we all here? I think it’s because, like the Brits in the artilce linked above, none of us are quite ready to settle down. I remember seeing the retirement communities developed for oldsters in places like Sun Valley, Arizona. And even back then I couldn’t fathom the attraction of living such a boring and vanilla lifestyle. Here we have a vibrant nightlife scene, ranging from prostitution bars to more traditional activities like pool and dart leagues. There are also daytime activities like the Hash and golfing clubs. Or long walks on the beach. And perhaps the biggest attraction is having the freedom to come and go and do as we please without being judged or considered “too old”. The girls here have a saying “age is just a number”, and judging by the couples I see out and about they must be sincere. I have one friend who is 66 and his live-in girlfriend is 22.
John and Mango. She adores him and he is devoted to her. Isn’t that what a relationship is supposed to be all about? What’s age got to do with it?Oh, did I mention Mango is a hottie? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not envious. Much.
So yeah, I think the women here are part of the attraction. Guys like me ain’t gonna find any smokin’ hot babes half (or less) our age back in the homeland. And Filipinas are not your standard Western feminazis either, their natural instinct is take care of their man. Geez, I need to get out there and find me one of those! Seriously though, you can find a genuine caregiver for a fraction of what it would cost back home. And sometimes us old folks need that tender loving care. I sure do wish the one I had trained up hadn’t run away.
While far from perfect, life is good here for us old farts. And I do admire these ancient fuckers who are still in the game and not ready to sacrifice an active and engaged lifestyle for the proverbial rocking chair on the front porch. I think most of us who have chosen to live here know that we will likely die here. And we intend to do it with a smile on our face.
Plying my favorite bargirls at Alaska Club with chocolate and ladydrinks. I quaffed a fair amount of SM Zero beer myself. How much does that kind of fun cost me? A little less than $40! Only in the Philippines!
Up earlier than normal this morning so I decided to take advantage of the relatively cooler hours and do an elongated hike.
Just under 14K. Took me 3.5 hours, but I move slow going up and down the mountains.Spent some time on the beach……but mostly I was above the beach…The majority of the trek was along the mountain ridge line. Which I guess technically put me closer to the sun…And the sun was a pretty bitch today. I don’t recall seeing that rainbow effect before.
I didn’t really expect I’d be out so long and didn’t bring enough water. I took my last swallow as I started my descent from the mountaintop and once I reached the bottom I was on Rizal Extension. I popped into one of the ubiquitous sari-sari stores and asked for a bottle of water.
I didn’t take this photo, but this is the typical look for these small markets. As Wikipedia describes them: “A sari-sari store, or neighborhood sundry store, is a convenience store found in the Philippines. The word sari-sari is Tagalog meaning “variety” or “sundry”. Such stores form an important economic and social location in a Filipino community and is ubiquitous in neighborhoods and streets.Wikipedia “
Anyway, this one didn’t have any water available but the owner vaguely pointed across the street and said something in Tagalog. I was pretty thirsty at this point so I walked over and asked an older gentleman sitting there if he had water for sale. There were several empty bottles of Red Horse (a powerful local beer) sitting on the table in front of him so I think he was halfway drunk. But he hopped up and went inside then came back out carrying some chunks of ice in his unwashed hands. He said the water wasn’t cold and I said that’s fine, I don’t mind warm water. He waved me off, then proceeded to smash the ice against the dirty wall until the pieces were small enough to fit into a container sitting on the table. Then he filled the container with water from a dispenser he had sitting on the porch. He smiled and said “just wait, it will chill”.
Hmm. Well, I would have preferred the water direct from the dispenser, but what are you gonna do? He asked me how old I was, I told him 63. He smiled and said that he and his friend (who was sitting at the other end of the porch) were both 55. So, we all shook hands. Then I poured the water from his container into my empty water bottle. I offered him some money for his trouble and he refused it saying “we are neighbors”. So I thanked him again and was on my way.
And there you have a good example of Filipino friendliness. I’ll let you know if I develop a case of diarrhea. Yes, I did quench my thirst with the gifted water. I also bought a bottle of Gatorade at the next sari-sari store I came across.
Anyway, I finished my hike with a jaunt over a portion of My Bitch without further incident. Well, I was accosted by a pack of dogs, but I was prepared for those bastards since they always seem to lay in wait of an ambush at the end of that trail. I had my walking stick and a handful of rocks at the ready and challenged them with a hearty “come and get it motherfuckers!”. The keep barking but back off a respectable distance from the crazy guy. I learned that the best course of action is being aggressive with aggressive dogs from my days as a mailman.
And that was the end of today’s adventure. So far.
It’s not having what you want It’s wanting what you’ve got
I’m gonna soak up the sun I’m gonna tell everyone To lighten up (I’m gonna tell ’em that) I’ve got no one to blame For every time I feel lame I’m looking up I’m gonna soak up the sun
Quite an adventure yesterday climbing the rocks on Easter mountain and once we got back down, the rocks began to roll. But bottom line up front, I made it to the top.
Success was in question before I even got started. As we made our way to the drop off point in the Hashmobile I realized I must have left my walking stick back at Johannson’s. Shit! Well, I wasn’t sure I was going to attempt getting all the way up anyway, discretion being the better part of valor and all. But without my stick I knew I was fucked. I rely on it for balance going up and more importantly, as a brake on the way back down. So upon arrival I get out of the truck and I’m contemplating my next move when a fellow Hasher hands me my stick and says you left this inside. So, it seemed fated that I was going to at least attempt to climb the mountain.
And indeed it was more of a climb than a hike. Getting up required the use of hands as well as feet, which is unusual. I knew from observing the mountain from a distance that the last 1/3 of the trail would be the steepest and toughest and I was not disappointed in that regard. There were a couple of times the voice in my head was saying “fuck this!” but my response was always “too late to turn back now!” And as I mentioned at the outset, in the end I persevered.
Coming back down presented its own challenges, primarily gravity and forward momentum. But with the aid of my trusty walking stick I maintained balance and kept me feet on the ground where they belong.
So, when it was all said and done I’m glad I made the climb and will look forward to doing it again next year. Maybe.
Once back on flat ground we were awaiting the arrival of the stragglers. And then I heard a low, rolling, rumble. And suddenly there was a whole lotta shakin’ going on. Yep, an earthquake was upon us. I grew up in SoCal so it wasn’t new to me, but that feeling of helplessness in the face of Mother Nature doing her thing is something you never get used to. Some reports put the epicenter at just a few kilometers from where I stood. And at 6.1 on the Richter scale, it was quite a ride. Only lasted about 15 seconds which is a good thing given the general lack of quality in construction methods and materials in these parts. That said, news reports say 8 died and several buildings were damaged, including the terminal at Clark airport in Angeles.
Quite the day! Let’s go to the pictures:
The trail. The runners ran back to Barretto and on-home at Hot Zone. The rest of us rode the truck back.The Hashmobile was packed as usual.Let’s roll!Our destination.Last minute instructions from the Hare.And we are off on our quest for the summit.So far so good.Steeper as she goes…Yours truly movin’ on up! Damn, too bad I’m not a mountain goat. You can see a guy at the top if you look closely.Now this actually proved quite tricky. Had I weighed 10 pounds more I would have been screwed. It was a tight squeeze as it was.I finally made it to the top and these Harriettes were chillaxin’ and taking in the view.And what a view! Looking North…East…South…And West.A shrine to the Virgin Mary was up top…And of course the Cross. Would it be “Easter” mountain without one?Filipina Rock Candy. Yum!Some reports say the epicenter was in Castejillos, just a couple of KMs away. I hiked out that way recently. It would have been real freaky if the quake had struck 30 minutes earlier when I was on top of the mountain. I likely would have shit my pants!So, at the end of the day I wasn’t a turkey after all. I came, I saw, I conquered. Why did I climb Easter mountain? Because it was there! You can quote me on that!In addition to the quake, there was an odd phenomenon in the sky. Looks almost like a blue tornado. Without the wind and destruction–just a light show.And finally, here’s a useful tip: Don’t wear new shoes to the Hash. Otherwise you’ll be drinking beer out of them. Just one of our rituals…
It was a day full of challenges and excitement. Just what I needed!
It was in the springtime of my nineteenth year. I had a decent enough job doing vinyl plastic fabrication. I shared a two bedroom apartment in Huntington Beach, CA with my older brother and I was driving an almost new 1974 Datsun pickup truck. My girlfriend was a 17 year old hottie named Bridget, whom I wasn’t in love with, but she loved sex almost as much as I did. And I had just acquired an adorable German Shepherd puppy I named Angie. So life was as good for me as it had ever been.
I recall picking Bridget up from her job as a sales clerk in Westminster Mall. She got in my pickup and immediately announced “I’m pregnant”. I was stunned at this news and blurted out “Damn it! If I knew you were going to get pregnant I wouldn’t have got the dog!”. And so began my reluctant journey into fatherhood.
Bridget and I both agreed we were not ready or equipped to be parents. She was a Catholic though and abortion for her was not an option. So we decided instead to give the baby up for adoption. Bridget’s parents were quite conservative and had never approved of me anyway and they were very unhappy with the news of the pregnancy. So we decided it would be best for all concerned if she moved out of the house and we’d get a place of our own until the baby was born. We made all the arrangements with the County adoption agency and we were provided free prenatal care and monthly food stamps. And so it came to pass that we were living together in a small apartment in Midway City.
So named I suppose because it was stuck midway between Westminster and Huntington Beach.
We were of course unsure when the child had been conceived, but the doctor estimated a due date in October. Now, I was big time into softball in those days and I happened to be playing in a tournament on a Sunday afternoon in early September. Bridget was there with me and around about the third inning she came to me complaining about not feeling well. I told her to go sit down and wait for the game to finish. At the start of the fifth inning my sister-in-law, a registered nurse, told me Bridget wasn’t well and I really needed to take her home. I remember making a big deal about apologizing to my teammates–“sorry guys, I have to leave now because someone has a tummy ache”.
On the drive back home every few minutes Bridget would start moaning loudly in pain. I was 19 and of course knew everything so I told her “it was just false labor, after all, you are not due until next month.” She persisted with her intermittent moans so as we were passing the hospital I pulled off the freeway and told her “Fine. We’ll go in here and they will tell you the same thing I’ve been saying!” And that is where two hours later my daughter Renee was born.
The next day I briefly saw Renee sleeping in one of those baskets in the maternity ward. Then I had to hurry off to work. My employer had moved to Pasadena, CA over an hours drive away. So I get to work and I can’t stop thinking about my helpless baby girl. At lunchtime I told the boss I was leaving and rushed back down the freeway to the hospital. As I entered Bridget’s room the woman from the adoption agency was handing her the papers to sign relinquishing custody of our baby. I shouted “stop! wait! I want to talk to Bridget first.” The adoption woman left and I said to Bridget “let’s get married and keep the baby instead”. Bridget said “okay”.
That was by far the best decision I’ve ever made. Bridget’s parents didn’t think so. Her father was livid and threatened to have me arrested for statutory rape (Bridget was still 17). I told him good luck with that. I had just turned 20 and still had some rebel in me I suppose. Anyway, he didn’t involve the law but he made things more difficult than they needed to be. Wouldn’t allow Bridget to marry so we waited for her 18th birthday in November. And he forbade Bridget’s siblings from attending our wedding ceremony. Petty bullshit. He came around in time and we were cordial but I never forgot how he treated us when we had nothing.
Well, I say we had nothing but that’s not entirely correct. We certainly were not prepared to have a baby in the house. That first night Renee actually slept in a dresser drawer. But we did have friends and the next day they held an impromptu baby shower and they filled our place with all things necessary to get a newborn started out right. I’ll never forget that either.
Life changed. We rented a two bedroom house next door to my parents (a loving grandma makes the best kind of baby sitter). I found a better job in route sales and about a year after Renee was born I started my government career as a letter carrier (mailman) with the United States Postal Service. With that new found financial security (and health insurance!) we felt it was time to plan for an addition to the family. And in March of 1978 Renee had a baby brother named Kevin sharing the house. Kevin actually arrived on his due date and having done the required natural childbirth classes I was present in the delivery room when Kevin entered the world. It was a beautiful thing to witness.
Being a parent makes you see things differently, or at least it did for me. For one thing I didn’t want to raise my kids in Orange County. We vacationed frequently in Arizona and just a few months after Kevin’s birth my transfer request to Prescott was accepted.
Without a doubt, the nicest place I ever did live. Probably around 25,000 residents at the time. Situated a mile high in the Bradshaw mountains. Felt like heaven to me!Meet the parents at our first house in Prescott, AZ. After a year we became homeowners and continued living the American dream.Celebrating Christmas in Arizona with my mom and little brother. I quite enjoyed the life as a family man.
Being a parent truly is “till death do us part”. Not so much for marriages. Bridget was 23, working at Prescott’s upscale restaurant, and running with a fast crowd. Sometimes she would stay out all night. I finally put my foot down and she told me “I don’t want to have to come home after work and be a wife and mother”. We got divorced and she gave me custody of the two kids, now aged 5 and 3. And thus began my journey as a single father.
Lord almighty, but it was tough going those first few months. I was a letter carrier which meant starting work at 0630. So I had to get up early, get the kids to daycare, do my job, pick the kids up, feed and bathe them, get them in bed, and then collapse in sheer exhaustion. And then get up the next morning and do it all over again. I’m not ashamed to admit that when I needed help I cried out for my mama. And she of course was there for me. We decided the best option was to send the kids home with her to the farm in Oklahoma. I would either come get them when I was ready or move there myself when a transfer came through. And that’s how it turned out that my kids were raised on a farm.
And what a life they had! Horses and cows and country living. Surrounded with love from Grandma and Grandpa and great Grandma Pernie. Granted, I was never any great shakes as a father, but damn it, sometimes I did get lucky. I did eventually move to the area, but I left the kids where they wanted and needed to be. I was pretty much a weekend dad in those days, but it all worked out for best.
Hanging with Grandpa Lee.And daddy was there sometimes too…Both of the kids really got into horses…Renee especially had a natural talent for horseback riding……and she has the ribbons and trophies to prove it!
HaHa! I guess that’s enough of the proud papa bullshit. On with the story. Well, it came to pass that I got to know a woman (actually, I got to know LOTS of women in those days, but that’s for another chapter) named Beckie. She was a widow with a one year old daughter. After dating for awhile, I moved into her fine home in Poteau, Oklahoma. She was and is a good woman and great with the kids. And then in 1986 I accepted a big promotion with the Postal Service in Columbia, SC. Now what do I do?
Well, as much as it pained me to yank the kids from my mother’s embrace (and it pained her much more I know) I wasn’t going to leave them behind. Beckie consented to my proposal to marry and so the deal was done. I’d have my kids and someone to help me raise them. How about that?
I’m not a totally selfish bastard. I promised the kids we’d find a place where we could bring the horses, and I did keep that promise. We lived out in the wilds of Lexington, SC and they went to school in nearby Pelion. It was a small high school and both of them excelled in sports and did well academically. Beckie was a Speech Pathologist and found work in a nearby school district. And I was busy kicking ass in my new career field of labor relations. More on that in a future chapter.
Our house in Lexington. Sitting on two acres of land. Built a barn and stable out back.
And so that was our life. When your kids reach high school age they are doing their own thing and parents are confined to keeping an eye out so they don’t go too far astray. I was lucky that my kids focused on athletics (well, and Renee was also into boys) and didn’t make the mistakes I did in high school. I spent a lot of my free time with them in the basketball arena, baseball diamond, and at the track.
Kevin was varsity baseball, basketball, and cross country.
Me escorting Renee at the Homecoming Queen festivities. Renee went off to Francis Marian University in Florence, SC but was home to watch her little brother graduate from high school…
Of course, even when your kids are grown, they are always your kids and an important part of your life. Just not a daily part. When it was all said and done and I had all those newly freed up hours previously spent at sporting events, I thought to myself “now what?” And sadly, I realized that the only thing I had in common with Beckie was our mutual interest in raising the kids. Yeah, I was that kind of motherfucker. So I started an affair with the woman who eventually became wife #3, which of course necessitated divorcing Beckie. I remind myself that whatever bad karma I may have in relationships was probably earned then and there.
I would also be remiss if I don’t talk about my other child, Beckie’s daughter Avery. She was only one when I met her mom and I’m the only father she has ever known. Unfortunately, I was a distant dad to her at best, and once I divorced her mother, I was almost completely absent from her life. Of course, Renee and Kevin considered her a sister and they all stayed close. As did Beckie with my kids. By now I had taken another promotion in Arlington, VA and they all remained in South Carolina. I was odd man out so to speak.
It was only as an adult that I came to terms with Avery and I think for the most part she has forgiven me for the hurt I caused her, however unintentional. Now we hang out when I’m visiting, and she even came here to the Philippines a couple of years ago to join me on vacation.
I got lucky again having a second chance with this sweet young woman.
And life moves on. I disappeared to Korea for almost 12 years and now I hang my hat in the Philippines. The kids have kids of their own and are living their lives just fine without me there. It is great that Beckie is still a mom to them and even their real mother reappeared in their life when she retired and moved to South Carolina.
We always get on and have some fun when I’m around, which ain’t often I admit.Kevin had a long and successful career in journalism and now is doing great work in the insurance biz.Renee has given me two beautiful grandchildren and after a hurtful divorce is finding her way in the world again.
And the wheel in the sky keeps on turning. Childhood ends. The rebellious teen years pass. But this chapter of my life will never end. Indeed, I’ll live on through my children. That’s a legacy I can be proud of!
All together again last October. I’m pretty much a once a year dad these days.
Winter is here again oh Lord, Haven’t been home in a year or more I hope she holds on a little longer Sent a letter on a long summer day Made of silver, not of clay I’ve been runnin’ down this dusty road
Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin’ I don’t know where I’ll be tomorrow Wheel in the sky keeps on turnin’
Well, my pension is lots more than that but I ain’t got no Filipina looking that good either.
In the comments to a recent post, Kevin Kim asks: What’s the problem with Western women? After providing some examples of issues he has experienced with Asian women, Kev poses the question: So who’s more damaged (or kooky, or whatever), in your view? Western ladies or Asian ones? Why do you think so?
Well, if there is one thing I have in this life, it is a long and storied history with women. My relationship failures would make for a great romantic comedy (of errors), if they hadn’t happened to me. It’s hard to laugh in the face of pain. Still, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, right? So I am going to endeavor to answer the questions posed as honestly as I can. The only caveat being that these are only my experience based opinions. It is not my intent to stereotype all women with particular characteristics, I can only speak to the ones who were crazy enough to be with me.
Alright then, let’s go. It is no secret to long time readers that I’ve had four wives. And I acknowledge and accept the fact that I am the only common denominator in each of those relationships. So yeah, it could be that I’m the problem. Three of my spouses were American, the last was a Korean. And I really don’t have anything bad to say about any of them. And when I said that I’d never be with a Western woman again it was primarily based on two factors–I live in the Philippines where foreign women are scarce; and I find Asian women much more attractive. Yeah, I’m that shallow.
It’s not necessarily all about physical beauty either. I’m attracted to the Asian mentality that a woman should take care of her man. Granted, they are not always sincere when they display that warm and loving nature, but Asian women tend to be more traditional in relationship roles. A Western woman is much more likely to say “make your own damn sandwich!”. So there’s that.
When I first came to Korea I was blown away at being surrounded by so many sexy females. You might say I caught the yellow fever. Don’t say that to a Korean woman though. I made that mistake once and it didn’t go over well at all! I wrote a rather long treatise about Korean females on an internet forum back in 2015. It goes into great detail about some of my personal experiences dating and loving the most beautiful women in Asia. Give it a read if you are so inclined.
So I eventually married a Korean woman. I loved her, she loved me and we built a life together. Was it perfect? Far from it. But I was committed to the choice I had made. Right up until she told me she didn’t have a happy life with me and wanted a divorce. I honestly do not know what happened or why she was so unhappy. She wouldn’t, or couldn’t tell me. And that language and communication barrier probably had a lot to do with it.
So the marriage failed and I was back in the market for love. And then I experienced some of the bad kind of crazy Kevin talks about in his comment. And that led me to conclude that love is just not worth the pain it brings. So I came up with a brand new plan. I wrote about that plan here. Actually, those two links probably answer the questions posed better and more thoroughly than I’m doing here. Suffice to say, the “plan” to just employ a Filipina to do all the things a girlfriend/wife would do without all the “love” bullshit blew up spectacularly in my face. Because I fell in love with her.
And what should have been a happy ending for us both was not to be. She chose instead to betray me and fall in love with another man. Just my luck, huh? Well, actually it was lucky for me. I had totally misjudged her nature and her character. If I had trusted her with my future I would have been in much worse shape than I am today. As I often tell myself, there are worse things than being alone.
But I digress. I have failed with Western women and I have failed with Asian women. I’m living in a country filled with beautiful brown skinned ladies and I haven’t given up hope that someday the right one for me will present herself and I will not be so jaded that I fail to seize the opportunity. In the meantime I’ll just keep on living the life that is not all it could be, but that is certainly good enough.
So here are my answers:
There is nothing wrong with Western women, they just don’t attract me.
In my experience Asian women are more damaged/kooky than Western women. The why of that is probably partly attributable to cultural differences and communication differences. Or maybe that is just the kind of Asian woman who is attracted to Western men.
As any honest woman would tell me “I’d have to be crazy to go out with you!”.
To all the girls I’ve loved before Who traveled in and out my door I’m glad they came along I dedicate this song To all the girls I’ve loved before
To all the girls I once caressed And may I say, I’ve held the best For helping me to grow, I owe a lot, I know To all the girls I’ve loved before
The winds of change are always blowing And every time I tried to stay The winds of change continued blowing And they just carried me a way
To all the girls who shared my life Who now are someone else’s wife I’m glad they came along I dedicate this song To all the girls I’ve loved before
To all the girls who cared for me Who filled my nights with ecstasy They live within my heart I’ll always be a part Of all the girls I’ve loved before
The winds of change are always blowing And every time I tried to stay The winds of change continued blowing And they just carried me way
Turns out I was a fool to think I could take on the responsibility of two dogs. Oh well, lesson learned. I think the most humane thing to do is take Lucky way up in the hills and let him go. He’s a smart dog, I’m sure he’ll learn to fend for himself. I guess you weren’t so Lucky after all. Sorry!
I remember many years ago I was attending some labor relations training in Memphis, Tennessee. One evening in the hotel bar a couple of freelance prostitutes approached me and a buddy and offered their services. We declined and jokingly pointed across the room to where the instructor of our course was sitting and told them, “he’ll be interested!”.
The next day at the conclusion of the course the instructor called students up one by one for their certificate of completion. And then he said “Is there anyone I missed?” Me and my friend raised our hands. He looked at us and said “this is the first time I’ve ever had students fail my course” then tore up two certificates in front of the astounded group before dismissing the class. When everyone had departed except for us he came over and said those prostitutes wouldn’t leave him alone, even followed him into the hotel elevator. He then gave us our certificates, smiled and said “if you can’t take a joke, fuck you!”
That’s a true story. Unlike the first paragraph. Which you would have to be a fool to believe. Today of all days!
