Still just rolling along hoping to avoid snake eyes here in paradise. Yeah, you’ve got to work hard to come up with something that convoluted. What else is there to do?
I got accosted stopped on the street for the first time last evening. It wasn’t a law enforcement officer, rather it was a Barangay official stationed on the corner where the street from my subdivision intersects with the National Highway. It went down like this:
“Good evening. Where are you going?” I’m going to get something to eat. “Where?” Sit-n-Bull. “Do you have a quarantine pass?” Yes, I do. As I started to reach for my wallet, he said: “Or an identification card?” I breathed a sigh of relief and showed him my Alien Certificate of Registration card. That document shows my address as Barretto. The pass puts me in San Isidro and technically doesn’t permit me to be in Barretto. Even though it is not possible to leave Alta Vista by road without entering Barretto. Anyway, he looked at my ID, said thank you, and sent me on my way.
It felt a little like this. HEIL DUTERTE!
I didn’t go to Sit-n-Bull, I went to the restaurant that still allows sit down dining, I’ll call it Gomans for now. Had me a plate of fried chicken this time.
It was pretty damn good too. Threw the bones to a stray dog on the beach, so it was a win-win kinda night.
I posted the above photo on Facebook and one of the commenters somehow managed to identify the location. I promptly deleted the post, but I fear he may be the kind of wanker who would report the place to the authorities. I hope not. Because I’ve been getting my fill of beer there both before and after dinner as well. And I do enjoy enjoying beer.
Kind of like that.
We’ll see what happens with the next roll of the dice I reckon.
I try to avoid trite phrases like a plague, but I guess it’s always darkest before the dawn. Or maybe things just get worse before they get better?
Well, I am kidding for the most part. I’ve continued to be inconvenienced in a pain in the ass kind of way, but lots of people are truly beginning to feel the hurt from this so-called quarantine. I got my first “I’m hungry” message this morning from one of the bar girls at Alley Cats. I know she has an infant and a couple of other kids at home as well. I advised her to visit her Barangay office, they are supposed to be providing assistance to those in need. I’d throw her a little cash but she’s on the far side of Castillejos and there is really no convenient way to get it to her. I just share this point to keep my so-called problems in perspective.
Anyway, I had my driver come pick me up for some grocery shopping at the WalterMart in Subic town. I wanted to drop my laundry off but the shop owner told me she was being forced to close. So I guess my clothes are going to have to be cleaned the old-fashioned way–by hand. Using the hands of my domestic helpers of course. Oh well.
Donnie driver dropped me off and had me walk through the checkpoint going into Subic. Apparently they question more than one person in a vehicle. I passed through on foot with only a temperature check–36c. I guess that makes me cooler than normal. We arrived at the grocery store about twenty minutes before it opened and joined the queue at the main door.
With assistance from the guards, we managed to maintain some semblance of the recommended one-meter separation.Once the doors opened, we marched through single file and got a temperature check. I was only 35c celsius this time.
Inside the shopping mall, all the shops were closed except for the drug store and the grocery store. There were only letting like fifteen customers inside the WalterMart at a time. The rest of us lined up waiting our turn our enter.
Fortunately, I was close to the front of the line.
This was my first time inside the WalterMart grocery. It was okay I suppose. Wasn’t real impressed with the fresh veggies available and decided to buy my meat at the market in Barretto. Picked up about a hundred bucks worth of stuff though, including a case of beer.
I walked through the checkpoint again on the way home and Barretto didn’t care enough to take my temperature. Once I offloaded the groceries, I hoofed it over to the Barretto Barangay office to find out about getting one of those quarantine passes. They asked where I lived and I told them Alta Vista. Someone knew that part of the subdivision is in the San Isidro Barangay, but I told them my Alien ID Card says I live in Barretto. I was told that they are being delivered one card per household and I’d have to wait for a delivery. They did take my phone number.
So, the Barangay also confirmed that the “enhanced quarantine” will escalate to a “lockdown” effective Monday. Apparently you can’t be outside without the pass and only then for food and meds. I’m somewhat concerned because I can’t actually exit Alta Vista without entering Barretto. I’ve heard nothing at all from San Isidro (a small and very rural Barangay) about what procedures they are using to issue the passes. I’ll probably need to go by the office in San Isidro and inquire if I can’t finagle a pass from Barretto. Oh boy, at least I won’t go hungry for a while.
We’ll see what happens as things progress. I don’t want to be a jackass about it, but I can be stubborn as a mule if need be. Or deported.
Observations from the ground during the second day of the enhanced community quarantine.
I did a walk around in the afternoon yesterday with the specific intent of seeing what was involved in “crossing the border” into Subic town. What a cluster fuck that was, especially for those who had the misfortune of driving. Here’s how it looked:
I heard first-hand reports it took over two hours to get through the traffic jam that extended all the way back to the outskirts of town.
As a pedestrian, I had to dutifully wait my turn to have my temperature checked. No questions were asked about where I was going or why. Every vehicle occupant went through the same meaningless procedure. I guess the appearance of action is the important thing.
Coming back into Barretto I didn’t have my temperature checked. I guess that’s only important in Subic.
I didn’t feel comfortable taking a close up photo, but the police were in full battle dress uniforms and armed to the hilt with both pistols and rifles. They weren’t messing around and I certainly wasn’t about to press my luck.
Once back in Barretto I took a walk through the bar area and the ones I saw were indeed closed. Some had signs reading “by order of the mayor”. The restaurants I passed had signs up saying only take-out was available. The Jeepneys were off the street and the number of trikes was greatly diminished. So, this shit is definitely for real.
Later in the evening, I went back to Johannson’s which was still serving beer at their bar (it’s classified as a hotel, so they were still open for business). Talking to some of the other patrons there I learned that the Arizona resort had closed down, which is really big news. I’ve since learned that several other resort hotels were also closing. A couple of the bars that had tried to stay open were raided by the police and shut down. When the Johansson’s manager heard this news, she got up and closed the front door (something I have never seen done here in almost two years). I figured as a hotel she was safe but I guess she wasn’t taking any chances. Later on, I crossed the street to the Out Back hotel and enjoyed some cold brews at their poolside bar. On the way home, I popped into 7-11 and cleaned out their supply of San Mig Zero. Hey, these are desperate times!
Anyway, I got home before 8:00 p.m. just to be on the safe side. I’m still unclear on whether we are on a 24-hour curfew or an 8-5 situation. No one seemed to be patrolling the streets while I was out, so there’s that.
I did a batch of chili up in the crockpot and baked up some sweet cornbread (added brown sugar and honey to the mix). The helpers said the chili was too spicy and I was pissed because I forgot to add the pineapple I had bought specifically for that purpose. Oh well, next time.
This morning I got up and met Scott and Jim for a local mountain hike. We did a nice 8K walk and worked up a powerful thirst. I suggested we quench it on the way back at Johansson’s. When we walked in I noticed three guys sitting at the bar drinking coffee. Since it was afternoon, I knew something was up. I sought out the manager and sure enough, they had been told they can only serve beer to customers who are waiting on takeout food, we can no longer just come in to sit and drink. I asked her what about hotel guests? She said she thought that would be okay, so I told her I’d book a room. That’s when I learned that hotels are now prohibited from accepting any new guests! So, I fully expect more hotels will be shutting down soon.
We crossed the street to Out Back hotel and thank goodness they hadn’t got the memo. So we quaffed some beers at their very nice poolside bar. How long that’s gonna last I have no idea, but I’ll be back tonight to take advantage of their hospitality for as long as I am able. Or until 8 p.m. anyway.
Oh, and I guess someone figured out how fucking stupid it was to block traffic on the National Highway in order to render meaningless temperature checks. This is how it looked this afternoon:
That’s a HUGE difference and gives me at least some hope that adjustments will be forthcoming to the quarantine policy.
I have also learned that the international flight ban from Luzon has been lifted for foreigners, so at least I can escape if the current oppression becomes more than I can bear.
Hmm, does this apply to me? Stay tuned, I’ll find out tonight. I heard the hotel bars on Baloy Beach are still in operation. Let’s see if I can get there.
So again, I’m going to ascribe good motives behind what is being done in the name of stopping the spread of the Wuhan virus. As implemented, I see no practical benefits, however. And lots and lots of people are being hurt, not to mention my inconvenience!
Here are the latest available stats on the virus impact in my province of Zambales…
So, it could be worse. If it doesn’t get worse, maybe it’s all worthwhile. Time will tell.
Let me leave you with the “interesting” photo from yesterday’s walk:
Found in a pile of trash in the Santa Monica subdivision. Breaking up is hard to do. Apparently.
I’ve got walking photos to share with y’all tomorrow. Stay tuned, it’s bound to get better!
Nothing should surprise me these days, but I have to admit I was pretty damned shocked when I woke up and saw what President Duterte has imposed throughout Luzon (the big island that includes Manila and my province of Zambales). They are calling it an “enhanced community quarantine” and it includes these provisions:
24-hour CURFEW for EVERYONE All public transport is suspended You may go out ONLY to buy basic needs. Work and school are suspended. Restaurants are CLOSED. Only deliveries and take out are allowed, no eating in the restaurant. Serious resistance or disobedience will subject the offender to arrest.
Sounds a lot like house arrest to me. Ah, but there is an escape clause for foreigners:
Those who want to leave the country are given 72 hours to leave/fly. Otherwise, it will be presumed that they opted to stay in the Philippines for the entirety of community quarantine (April 14)
Hmm. I briefly considered that option, then rejected it. Frankly, things seem just as dicey in the USA these days. I thought about Korea, but an indefinite stay there would be quite expensive. Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam are also imposing stringent measures to control the Wuhan Virus. Plus I have no support network there should the worst-case scenario come about. Nope, I’ve made the Philippines my home and I’ll stick things out here for better or worse.
It will be interesting to see how implementation works out and what the impacts of this quarantine will be. As I mentioned yesterday, the locals are in for some desperate times. One of the commenters on a forum I frequent had this to say about that:
I am normally the optimistic, the one telling everybody not to succumb to the fear mongering and doomsayers. But today as I was driving by the gun store in my fairly affluent community, the big line around the block to get in made me think about what life must be like in Luzon now…and in the weeks to come.
With so many people there living payday to payday, barely making enough to survive, and with little or no monetary safety nets for all these bargirls, restaurant workers, bus drivers etc who will simply be without income for a month, people will soon become desperate. Think how many scammers and con artists have always been at work there. Now all these people literally will not have legitimate income for the next month. And the foreigner visitors that normally keep a steady stream of cash are no longer arriving. I think there’s a great potential there for dramatically increased violence. How can there not be? How long can you listen to a baby cry of hunger before you take matters into your own hands?
For all the expats and brave visitors there now, you gotta be extra careful. I’m sure it’s the monger buyer’s market of a lifetime, but I have to imagine that given the new circumstances, past trustworthiness doesn’t necessarily mean current trustworthiness.
It’s a good thing to have money. It’s a bad thing to be the only one in town with money. Stay safe!
Yeah, something to consider for sure.
Anyway, I’m proceeding as normal until I’m told otherwise. I walked the dogs as usual which I guess is technically a violation. I also observed that the construction crews have continued to work on the houses being built, in clear violation of the “stay home” directive from the President. Well, it’s only day one so maybe the Army has yet to be deployed to apprehend these scofflaws.
I decided to push my luck further and take my normal morning hike outside the relative safety of my subdivision. And boy, was I in for a surprise!
Jeepneys, trikes, and buses have supposedly been prohibited under terms of the quarantine. And yet they were all part of this massive traffic jam.
“What the hell is going on?” I wondered (hopefully not out loud). It seems the traffic jam was generated by a police checkpoint just up the road at the entrance to Subic town. I guess they were taking temperatures of everyone who provided a good enough reason to be leaving Olongapo. I have to believe at some point they are going to enforce the quarantine requirements, but apparently not today.
I also popped into Johansson’s which was open. It is a hotel/restaurant/bar type facility. I sat down and jokingly ordered a beer, and the bartender got up to get it before I stopped her. Apparently it is business as usual for them as well. I messaged a friend who works at Treasure Island resort and they are open and serving customers too. Then I got the text message reminding me of the dart tournament at Alley Cats today. I’m not sure what’s going on and why everyone is ignoring the Presidential decree with apparent impunity, but that’s not likely to last for long. Although, I hope I’m wrong about that.
You know, I get that these measures are intended to lessen the impact of the coronavirus on the population at large. I certainly know that I am in a high-risk category should I be infected. I just don’t see how these steps are going to actually make a difference in any meaningful way. I’ve put my own plan for self-defense in motion already:
Yep, I drank a Corona after the Hash last night. I’m fighting fire with fire!
Speaking of the Hash, we might have to postpone future gatherings until the crisis has passed. Angeles City and La Union have already done so. It was a nice 7K hike yesterday and I’ll post about that tomorrow. Right now, I’m going to really push my luck and walk into Subic town and see what all the fuss is about. And whether or not the police will let me in. I guess if pressed I can always say I’m out searching for food! I’ll let yáll know how that goes as well.
I did a bar crawl on my own last night. Well, I ran into fellow Hashers Scott and Jim in BarCelona and enjoyed their company while quaffing some brews. Afterward, I made a rare appearance in Rum Jungle and was greeted by name by the waitress. I’m always impressed with the ability of these gals to remember customers, especially folks like me who are far from regulars. As a reward I allowed her to give me a back massage and provided her a 100 peso tip. Nice to see you again too, Sallie!
After a couple more beers I moved next door to Wet Spot, another bar I don’t frequent that often. But I had a “buy one, get one” coupon that was due to expire and I wanted to use it up. While I was enjoying my beer the owner, Dave, came in and joined me at my table. As I mentioned in the post linked above, Dave is a retired physician and owns several businesses in Barretto. Always fascinating to talk with, and he has some unique insights into local happenings given his connections. Naturally, the conversation turned to the Wuhan virus (my preferred name now that the Chinese are trying to memory hole where it came from). He confirmed my suspicion that the panic is having a devastating impact on business. In fact, he’s considering closing his bars two or even possibly three days a week! And he also revealed that the first confirmed case of infection has occurred in Barretto. A Filipina recently returned from Japan, with (fortunately) no connection to the bars. Still, it’s happening here and not being reported, which is really no surprise.
Philippine President Rodrigo Duterte on Thursday announced a halt on domestic land, sea and air travel to and from Manila, as well as community quarantine measures, in what he called a “lockdown” of the capital to arrest the spread of coronavirus.
Apocalypse now?
In addition, no citizen of any country with reported outbreaks of the virus will be permitted entry into the Philippines, effective March 15. That, of course, includes the USA. So, it looks like I’m not going anywhere for the time being, or if I do go I won’t be coming back. I had been planning a trip to Thailand (also on the list) in July, so that’s obviously on hold now. Since I’m already here I don’t anticipate any issues with getting my tourist visa renewed at the end of the month, but then again, this is the Philippines, so who knows?
I don’t know if this is all an overreaction or if it’s time to panic. I guess I could play it safe and not venture outside to walk or visit the bars. That strikes me as being too drastic at this point in time. I’m just going to wait and see what happens next. It’s still more likely I’ll die from crossing the National highway than it is from contracting the virus. That could very well change I suppose.
Life is a crapshoot. Let’s roll the dice!
I have seen you in the movies And in those magazines at night I saw you on the barstool when You held that glass so tight. And I saw you in my nightmares But I’ll see you in my dreams And I might live a thousand years Before I know what that means.
Once there was a friend of mine Who died a thousand deaths His life was filled with parasites And countless idle threats. He trusted in a woman And on her he made his bets Once there was a friend of mine Who died a thousand deaths.
Another day in paradise. The thought occurred to me that maybe I should be feeling bored with my life here. Most days are pretty much the same. I fill the hours with my walks and time spent in the bars. Oh, sometimes the walks take me somewhere new and I see familiar faces in different bars. There’s the Hash, darts, and an occasional game of pool. Is that enough?
I’m not sure what got me thinking about this subject this morning. I dreamed about working last night and that seems to be a frequent occurrence when I sleep. Is my subconscious telling me to find some meaning and purpose in my life? Hell, when I contemplate what I might blog about, sometimes I feel sorry for you, my faithful readers, once again being subjected to my daily drivel about nothing of substance.
But then I think of the little things that make a life. Spending time with the dogs and soaking up some of the pure love they provide me. Pausing to look up from the computer and out of my window and feeling the peace that nature’s beauty brings to the soul. Sitting down for breakfast at Sit-n-Bull and being warmly (and sincerely) greeted by name. Just feeling part of a community rather than an anonymous face in the crowd is somehow comforting.
So, maybe it is a boring life. But there are much worse things than being bored. I’ll cop to playing it safe and not putting myself “out there” and risking my heart or peace of mind. Some might call that cowardly I suppose. I choose to embrace my routines and be satisfied with the simple life I’ve made for myself. If someday that’s not enough I’ll look for something different. For now, it is what it is and I’m glad to be here.
Okay, enough of that self-reflection. Let’s get to the good stuff, or at least as good as it gets:
You want excitement? I heard the sirens yesterday afternoon and discovered this morning what it was all about. This is right at the edge of Alta Vista and a path I take on a regular basis.Buddy investigating the change of smells.
I’m not sure what it is that makes me find litter so “interesting”, but here’s another trashy photo:
This bottle has Lucky’s name on it.
Life can be a beach sometimes.
Barretto beach this morning as I took an after-breakfast stroll.
What else is cooking? Well, there is this:
Pork chops in the crockpot, seasoned up with spices, cream of mushroom soup, and some ranch dressing.
The lack of news and updates about the coronavirus here in the Philippines is a little disconcerting. It’s been weeks since any reports of new infections which doesn’t seem plausible. This is the Philippines after all. Anyway, not much you can do but take the standard precautions and hope for the best I suppose.
I’d be happy if I could consistently find soap in the CR (comfort room as they are known here). You NEVER find paper towels and there ain’t no way I’m drying my hands on the nasty cloth towel left hanging in there. I just shake the water off as I walk out.Is this you, Kevin Kim?
Politics anyone?
This is an easy choice for me!
This made me laugh:
Bear with me…
Thanks to all for your indulgence!
You see it all around you Good lovin’ gone bad And usually it’s too late when you, realize what you had And my mind goes back to a girl I left some years ago (Who told me) Just hold on loosely But don’t let go If you cling to tightly You’re gonna lose control
Happy Leap Year, everyone! I’m not sure if that’s even a thing. I’ve not even heard this 29th day of February mentioned in passing. Oh well, only four years until the next one.
I celebrated Leap Year’s Eve with a night out on the town. I wasn’t feeling like playing darts, and with nothing better to do I changed things up by attending the SOB dance contest. This week’s venue was Man Cave and there was a full house:
It’s been a couple of months since I last attended one of these dance competitions. I declined the offer of being a judge and just chilled out watching the show from the back. I did concur with the decisions of the panel on the top three finishers though.Alaska did their usual costumed show and earned third place.The Wet Spot team took second place. This gal is my favorite. I don’t barfine (pay to take a girl home) these days, but if I did she’d be the type I’d go for.The Rum Jungle girls did an old school sexy dance routine, and that’s what I enjoy most.This Rum Jungle dancer was red hot. Couldn’t take my eyes off her while she performed. I was surprised to learn later that she is a cherry girl (virgin) and not available for take out. I’m sure she was very tired this morning because she was running through my dreams all night!And as you’ve probably surmised, the Rum Jungle gals earned this week’s SOB crown. Well done, ladies!
The man on the left in the photo above is Dave Fisher, a legend here in Barretto. He owns several of the bars and at least one hotel that I know of. At the Aftermath event in Rum Jungle, Dave joined me at my table and we had a very enjoyable chat. Dave’s a licensed physician who prior to retirement worked for a large pharmaceutical company in Europe. He still maintains a residence in Amsterdam and splits his Philippines time between Manila and Barretto. The guy is in his mid-seventies and shows no sign of slowing down at all. Had a great time hanging out with him.
I did pretty well with the raffle prizes as well. I also had my name drawn for the “Find the Joker” contest. There were about 35 cards left in the deck to choose from for a prize of P17,000 ($340.) Alas, my good fortune did not extend to this event, I pulled an 8 of clubs.
All that activity kept me out later than normal and I’d been drinking SML’s (Zero was out of stock again). I had intended to walk home, but a few steps down the highway I thought better of it and summoned a trike. I’d spent enough time walking that damn highway the past couple of days. Why push my luck?
Today’s “interesting” photo comes from my afternoon walk yesterday:
When it comes to litter, I suppose it all adds up. Coincidentally, that may be the number of beers I drank last night. But who’s counting?
The good news is I can probably mark myself safe from the Wuhan virus:
Whaddaya mean fake news? I believe it so it must be true!
Speaking of the worldwide epidemic that is bound to kill us all, still not much happening here in the Philippines. Or at least, nothing much is being reported. They have however banned entrance from Korea now, so if any of my old friends from there were planning a surprise visit, you’ll need to change your plans. For now at least.
Regarding yesterday’s Hash–I swear I will never complain about one of Günter’s trails again. I know this to be true because I will NEVER hike one again. I was leaning that way anyway, but still feeling chastened by my cowardice in Baguio, I decided I’d take a chance. I was encouraged by the fact that we were walking out instead of driving, so I figured I could easily bail whenever I’d had enough. Well, it didn’t turn out that way. Here’s how it went down:
The red line is the trail as laid out by the Hares. The green is the one the smart people did. I did a good portion of the red, much to my regret.And we are “On-On”So far, so good. I’d hiked this part several times before.It led us up into my subdivision, Alta Vista. Here’s some fine Filipina booty to whet your appetite…Exiting Alta Vista on another familiar path…Coming into the Marian Hills neighborhood. The houses here were built by U.S. Navy volunteers as a charity project back in the 1980s. And Buddy Fucker is pointing up at a big ass mango tree. Someone has wrapped each piece of fruit in a paper bag to keep the bugs and birds away. That must be a helluva job, and the ladder indicates they ain’t done yet.
Alright, so I’m thinking this isn’t going to be so bad. I was contemplating the possibilities of where we might start climbing from here, and I knew of two likely trails. But I was wrong about that. Once we got into Marian Hills, the marked path had us enter a dry creekbed. I’m thinking what the hell? So, I continue on and it was pretty disgusting. People had been using the creek as a trash receptacle and it was littered with all kinds of garbage, including a significant number of used diapers. It was literally a shit creek.
Further up the creek was this abandoned and destroyed shack. The previous occupants had apparently left all their clothes behind to be strewn upon the hillside.
And then things took a turn for the worse. Or should I say that Günter didn’t disappoint? The creek bed turned into a steep uphill climb that required crawling up and over boulders.
What the hell?Are you fucking serious?What kind of bullshit is this? OH NO YOU DIDN”T!
But yes he did. Part of the climb up actually required a rope that the Hares gleefully provided. Bastards! Well, too late to turn back now.
Bush Diver was ahead of me on the trail. He got part way up and said: “I can’t make it!”. One of the gals who had gone before him leaned down and extended her hand to help pull him the rest of the way up. I’m not sure how she did that without being disastrously pulled down herself. Penis Colada handled the rope like a champ though and then assisted her elderly husband up too.
We all got to the top without injury. I was pissed though. And then we almost immediately started a steep and slippery downhill trek. One guy eventually gave up trying to keep his feet and slid down on his ass. My walking stick served its intended dual purpose of keeping my balance and being my brake.
A view on the way down.Flowers in the treetops……and growing on the ground.
Once we reached the bottom there were only four of us left in my group (I had waited on the elderly guy and his wife to make sure they made it down okay). I recognized that the trail was going to go up again through a different, albeit not as steep, creekbed. We were nearly an hour and a half into the hike at this point so I asked if anyone wanted to shortcut the trail. There was hearty and unanimous agreement with my suggestion. So, shortcut we did! Made it back on-home at Treasure Island at 5:30 after our abbreviated 6K hike.
I saw Bush Diver at Treasure Island and asked what he thought of the trail. He commented that it “separated the real Hashers from the wannabes.” I told him I disagreed because a real Hasher wouldn’t put other Hashers in unnecessary danger. He just walked off. Later in the circle when we provide our customary feedback to the Hares, Bush Diver repeated his comment about “real Hashers” and bragged that he had done the whole trail. Yeah, because someone was there to pull his ass up off a cliff. What a fucking cunt. And speaking of cunts:
That’s Günter (Vienna Sausage) on the left, with his partner in crime, Almoranus.
I’ve had all the shit from you guys I’m gonna take. I’m thinking whenever you next Hare I’ll offer up a “safe and sane”alternative trail. We’ll see who the “real Hashers” are then I suppose.
I’ve told a variation of this joke lots of times but never seen it as a meme.
Oh well. There is a Hash song that seems appropriate to the occasion:
Melody: Auld Lang Syne
Lyrics: Fuck off, you cunt Fuck off, you cunt Fuck off, you cunt, Fuck off Fuck off, you cunt Fuck off, you cunt Fuck off, you cunt, Fuck off Fuck off, you cunt Fuck off, you cunt Fuck off, you cunt, Fuck off Fuck off, you cunt Fuck off, you cunt Fuck off, you cunt, Fuck off
Er, I mean witness. Yep, I finally got my time in front of the Barangay officials to explain what went down on that ill-fated boat ride.
Jeff (the accused) asked us all to report to the Barangay office at 1:00. And then we waited twenty minutes or so for the officiants to return from lunch break. Ah yes, they were on Filipino time. When I looked in the door I saw Resa and Hana along with their friend Eva, another participant on the boat trip, also waiting. I stayed outside until called upon.
I wasn’t sure what format the proceeding would take, one on one or as a group, but once called inside a conference room with a large table, I observed that Resa, Hana, and Eva were on one side, with two barangay officials at one end and a third on the other. Jeff had a total of six witnesses and we all crowded in on the other side of the table.
Based on my seating choice, I was called on first to give my account of events. To summarize, I stated the following:
Resa and Hana were both very drunk, having been drinking heavily from four bottles of Emperador rum all afternoon. When it was time to depart, Resa walked out on the narrow bow of the boat giving every indication she intended to jump off. The boat crew would not proceed with her not seated. So Jeff grabbed Resa and held her down in the bottom of the boat while others tried to get a life jacket on her. She continued to resist, so finally, Jeff released her and went back to his seat. At no time did Jeff punch, hit, choke, or otherwise harm Resa as alleged.
The other five witnesses for Jeff all stated pretty much the same thing. In support of Resa, Eva testified that there was no suicide attempt. She claimed that Resa merely wanted to pee. Eva claimed that Jeff had been unnecessarily rough and held Resa down in a chokehold. Whatever Hana said, she said in Tagalog so I have no clue. Resa didn’t say shit.
With witness testimony concluded the head of the Barangay delegation spoke. She told Resa that the people present were not strangers, rather they were individuals who cared about her well-being and did not want to see her get hurt. Next, she told us foreigners that we should not have intervened. If someone has to physically restrain a Filipino we should have another Filipino do so. Then she turned to Jeff and asked him if he would consider offering an apology. Jeff said he was sorry his actions had been misunderstood and sorry that he had gotten involved in trying to protect Resa. He promised he would never do so again.
And that was pretty much it for us. Apparently, there will be a final mediation session next week. The witnesses were advised that our services were no longer needed and we were excused.
So yeah, it was all basically a bunch of bullshit. If Resa proceeds with a criminal complaint I may have to testify again. I can’t believe that she will still pursue that course in the face of what she heard yesterday. Then again, she has demonstrated that she is crazy as a loon.
In happier news, I went out this morning with Pubic Head and Blow My Pipe to scout our upcoming (March 2) Hash trail. They let me take the lead and liked what I showed them. Still a couple of wrinkles to iron out, but we should have a nice “sane” trail of 6K with a 9K version for the runners. One climb and the rest gently rolling or flat. My kind of trail!
The view from the highest point on our trail…
For today’s “interesting” photo, I offer you the Department of Education’s Vision statement, as painted on a wall outside Barretto National High School:
Good luck with that!
I’m really happy to see that the President is not holding any grudge against Mitt Romney:
Good luck with that, Mr. Romney!
And at the risk of being accused of virtue signaling, I want to share with you my no meat commitment.
On the morning walk today I consciously kept my eyes wide open in search of something new or interesting. That’s a challenge because I’ve been walking the mean streets of Barretto for going on two years now. I actually have four basic treks that I utilize to fulfill my morning 10,000 step goal, so I walk each once or twice a week.
Anyway, on today’s path, I crossed the same creek in two different locations. I usually don’t pay much attention to this waterway because unless it’s flooding there’s just no compelling reason to do so. But given my new motivation to be more observant, I took a closer look:
No wonder I haven’t bothered looking too close before! Well, it does speak to the Filipino love of nature I suppose.
About fifteen minutes further up the road, I circled around to head back to the highway and crossed the creek again.
Marginally better here I suppose. Kudos to the folks in this neighborhood. Although a good rain will wash that trash from upstream down here anyway I reckon.
We have three drugstores in Barretto proper. My walk along the highway took me past each one. And they all had something in common this morning.
Walang dispras maskara! I wonder why they’d all be out of face masks? Oh, there was a confirmed case of Coronavirus in Manila yesterday–the first in the Philippines. Not surprising to me. I mentioned in an earlier post that those Chinese cruise ships turned away in Subic were coming from a port of call in Manila. Hey, maybe it’s just a coincidence. I guess if you need a mask around here you are up shit creek for sure!
I continued on up the highway and encountered the old woman I call “mama” (and she calls me papa). I don’t really know her story, but my driver tells me she is a former bargirl. Says she had a foreigner husband who deserted her and took their baby back to his country. And now she lives on the streets. I first saw her a few years ago when I was here as a tourist. She was sleeping behind a billboard on Baloy Beach road. I felt really sorry for her then. These days when I see her (usually five or six times a week) I’ll give her 100 pesos so she can get a meal at least. I think some other foreigners help her out a little too. She still sleeps on the street but I think she is doing alright. She always has a big smile at least.
I don’t usually give money to beggars, but mama is an exception. First of all, she never asks for anything, which I appreciate. And my two bucks gets me a smile and an “I love you, papa”. That’s a win-win!
Okay, that’s enough “interesting” things from one walk, don’t you think? Well, I did take a couple of photos last night at the Arizona floating bar I’ll share with you:
My typical sunset shot came out a little different than usual. The air was hazy (probably smoke from the ubiquitous fires people burn around here this time of year) but it gave the sky a nice orange glow that I found rather pleasing. It was also nice to capture the solitary fisherman plying his trade.I always laugh at the blunt wording on this sign. No floaters on the floater! If you want to shit you literally will have to paddle back to shore on the raft and use a toilet there.
Now, I have it on good authority that the urine deposited in these comfort rooms does NOT flow into the bay. Rather, it is brought to shore and disposed of in the sewer/septic system. I guess hauling shit is just too much hassle. Well, I choose to believe it. Especially when I’m wading in the waters of shit creek Subic Bay!
Yesterday’s first-ever visit to the barangay office was a bit of a fiasco. Or should I just say that everything was done in typical Filipino fashion? Oh wait, those are both the same thing. Anyway, here’s the story with the background reasoning of why I was even there despite having pledged to myself not to go.
Alright, if you’ve been following along, the barangay crap is one the ongoing repercussions from the insane events on the return trip from Sampaloc Cove I wrote about here. During that fateful boat ride, one of the recipients of the drunken physical abuse administered by Hana and Resa was naturally pissed off. Once we reached shore she and her foreigner boyfriend, we’ll call him Jeff, went to file charges with the police. The police apparently referred them to the barangay to seek resolution.
A barangay (/bɑːrɑːŋˈɡaɪ/ (abbreviated as Brgy. or Bgy., may also be as Bo.), sometimes referred to as barrio, is the smallest administrative division in the Philippines and is the native Filipino term for a village, district or ward. In metropolitan areas, the term often refers to an inner cityneighbourhood, a suburb or a suburban neighborhood.[1] The word barangay originated from balangay, a kind of boat used by a group of Austronesian peoples when they migrated to the Philippines
And why you might ask would the barangay get involved in what is seemingly a police matter?
The Barangay Justice System or Katarungang Pambarangay is composed of members commonly known as Lupon Tagapamayapa (Justice of the peace). Their function is to conciliate and mediate disputes at the Barangay level to avoid legal action and relieve the courts of docket congestion.
So, the general consensus of those on the trip is that what happened on the boat should have stayed on the boat. Which is why I and most of the others were not inclined to get involved in Jeff’s complaint. And then the plot thickened when the instigators (Hana and Resa) filed a counterclaim with the barangay asserting that Jeff had physically attacked and choked Resa. Oh brother.
I had ignored Jeff’s attempts to contact me through Facebook messenger; sticking to my decision not to get involved in this nonsense. He cornered me at the Hash and pleaded with me to come and tell what I saw so that he would not be charged with a criminal complaint. Damn. Well, here’s the thing. As much as I don’t want to be involved I can’t sit idly by and watch a fellow foreigner get railroaded by the bitches who caused the trouble and committed the violence. Two Filipinas testifying against the white guy carries a lot of weight in a “justice” system that favors the locals in almost all circumstances. It is the reason I made a decision not to drive here, I knew any accident would automatically be my fault.
I know I’d want someone to stand up for me in a situation like this (even though Jeff brought it on himself by complaining in the first place) so I reluctantly agreed to show up yesterday at 2:30 to explain what I witnessed. And just what did I witness? Well, when crazy Resa was acting like she was going to jump off the boat, Jeff held her down while others attempted to put a life jacket on her. Resa resisted the effort and so Jeff let her go and sat back down. The counterclaim is that Jeff punched and choked Resa which just didn’t happen. Oh, and I also saw Hana punching Jeff’s girlfriend. That’s really all I can say.
So, I got there a few minutes early. I wasn’t sure where to go so I waited outside. I was happy to see several others from the boat ride show up as well, including guys with their Filipina girlfriends. Again, testimony from a local carries more weight from everything I’ve heard and seen. Anyway, Jeff and his gal arrive and he tells us that the meeting is not until 3:00 p.m. He goes inside the barangay office and comes out a few minutes later to tell us that the barangay officials want to talk to the complainants first and will take our statements afterward. Right at 3:00 Hana and Resa walked by our group and went inside the barangay without a word, although they didn’t appear too happy to see us all there.
And so we waited. And waited. Just before 4:00, Jeff comes back out and advises that the barangay folks will not be taking statements today after all. Apparently they used their allotted time in a failed effort to mediate the dispute. So now we’ve all been asked to come back next Tuesday afternoon to provide witness statements. Jeff thanked us profusely for coming and said that Hana and Resa were being completely vindictive and wanted to see Jeff being declared a woman abuser and potentially deported. That’s really fucked up, especially given the fact that the only violence that occurred was at the hands of these two crazy bitches. So yeah, I guess I need to go back next week.
I then proceeded to break my 5 o’clock rule and join my fellow witnesses for beers at Cheap Charlies.
Sampaloc Cove is a lush, but forbidding, land. Located at the southernmost tip of Subic’s Redondo Peninsula where the tranquility of Subic Bay meets the turmoil of the open sea, Sampaloc Cove is at once a hidden paradise of sprawling white-gray beaches stroked by the foaming turquoise sea and a remote habitat that tests the very survival of the indigenous Ayta people.
Yesterday saw me make a return visit to the lovely Sampaloc Cove. I blogged about the trip last May here. It’s nice to change things up and get out of the normal routines now and then. But I wound up getting a bit more than I bargained for in that regard. That comes later in the story, let’s go to the pictures:
A trip out to the wilds requires some advance preparation. Meat on a stick……snacks……and of course, beer. Zero doesn’t come in cans, so it was SML for this trip.Our departure was scheduled at 0800 from the Arizona resort……aboard this somewhat sturdy Banca boat. By coincidence or not, it was the same vessel we took last year.There were 22 humans, 3 dogs, and 2 crew onboard. I seem to recall being told capacity was 20, but hell, this is the Philippines, right?The rest of our group.Oh, and there’s me and a new friend. Remember that hat I’m wearing. It had a part to play in the insanity to come. That’s what we call foreshadowing…Our destination was an hour and a half slow boat ride away, around that peninsula way off in the distance…Drawing near to Redondo peninsula…Once around the bend were out of Subic Bay and into the open sea. The South China Sea to be precise.And at last, we were making our way to shore at Sampaloc Cove.Our Banca anchored at our destination. I guess it was the tides this year being higher, but wading ashore the water was up to my neck in places. Made it a pain in the ass to get our shit to the beach.The locals were happy to see us. 100 pesos each to use the beach and 500 pesos to rent a Nipa hut for the day.Preparing the cooking coals…Cooking…There was something fishy going on…A walk on the beach…Sand and rocks…And then nothing but rocks…The water was clean and clear. I even waded out there for a while…Alright, time to get to the rest of the story. Here we have the stars of yesterday’s drama: at the extreme left a bottle of Emperador, the local rum that the natives are crazy about. And it makes them crazy. Apparently.
We had a very pleasant day at the beach. Most of the menfolk were enjoying some beers. And the women kept pouring Emperador shots. I had a couple to be polite, but I know better than to mix my alcohol. I was amazed at the capacity of these Filipinas to drink shot after shot. When they opened the FOURTH bottle, I admit to feeling a little concerned. Resa was doing the pouring and she was relentless.
I’m not exactly sure when things started going wrong, but I noticed Resa was out in the water being assisted, then carried back to shore. They laid her on a bench in the Nipa hut and someone told me she has been upset that she found out her boyfriend was cheating on her. The implication I gathered was that she had either tried to drown herself or was being a drama queen. I was leaning to the latter, although clearly she wasn’t faking being drunk.
I went on about doing my thing and then noticed later that all the women-folk, including Resa, were gone. Apparently they went hiking to some nearby waterfalls. Given the amount of rum they had ingested I wasn’t sure that was a good idea, but who am I to say? A while later I see one of the boat crew carrying Resa back to the beach. I guess she never made it to the falls, but most of the other gals did. Anyway, once everyone had returned from the hike it was time to starting loading up and heading home.
Now, I was feeling no pain at this point, but I wasn’t drunk-drunk either. So I was really surprised when Steve fell down on the beach and couldn’t get back up. Hell, it took like three of us to get him back on his feet and help him board the boat. He must have had a lot more shots than I had noticed.
As the boat begins pulling out, Resa makes for the bow and from my perspective, it looked like she was fixing to jump off into the water. Someone grabbed her and pulled her back into the boat, then forced her to sit down on the floor. She struggled mightily to escape, so someone tackled her and held her down. Well, Hana is Resa’s best friend and she went nuts, attacking the person who was holding Resa. I guess Steve said something to Hana (his live-in girlfriend) because she went after him, actually punching him in the face and drawing blood.
While this was going on, Resa made another escape attempt and a female member of the group (a former cop I’m told) pinned her down again. Resa wound up biting her and the cop responded with some blows that also drew blood. They got separated, and Resa wound up sitting down on the floor near me. I put my arms around her, trying to comfort her and calm her down. She continued to struggle some and with my arms otherwise occupied, my hat blew off and into the water. I really liked that hat, had it for years.
Meanwhile, Hana has gone wild throwing shit at those she considered culprits in Resa’s abuse. Some of it went overboard, including that nice grill grate we used to cook my meat on a stick. I was really worried she was going to grab my backpack and throw it in the water. I would have been screwed if she had, it held my wallet and phone. It didn’t come to that, the crewmember not driving had seen enough and he gruffly barked in Tagalog and Hana backed down.
I was still holding Resa, stroking her head and telling her it would all be fine. I guess she didn’t agree because she pinched my finger so hard it broke the skin. I let her go at that point and was thinking “fine bitch, kill yourself if you want. I’m done with this shit”. Resa didn’t jump though, instead, she sat next to Hana and sulked for the remainder of our journey.
Suffice to say, once we docked at Arizona no one left the boat in a happy mood. It was a pretty fucked up way to end an otherwise nice day, that’s for sure.
Without a doubt, it was the most insane time I’ve experienced here in the Philippines. The most surprising thing was seeing how crazy Resa and Hana are. I’ve been acquainted with both for a while and never saw any behavior that would lead me to believe they were psychopaths. But then again, I never saw them drinking Emperador before either. The sad thing is I had been quite attracted to Resa in the past, but our timing was never in sync. And now I’m just thanking the Gods of Love for protecting me. Another reminder of just how bad I am at judging the true nature and character of the human female.
And life goes on!
*I’ve decided to not use actual names in this post. I don’t think anyone local reads my blog, but I don’t want to risk being called to the Barangay office or deported. The libel laws in the Philippines are not foreigner friendly I’m told.
It’s a Rizal Day, a national holiday here in the Philippines commemorating the life of Jose Rizal, an independence fighter executed by the Spanish on December 30, 1896. Do I need a better excuse to whip up a batch of fruit salad? I don’t think so!
This is the first time since moving here I’ve managed to make the holiday dish that has been my tradition for over 40 years now. The problem I’ve had is getting together all the needed ingredients that make the unique blend of flavors I’ve enjoyed since first experiencing this concoction as a child at my Aunt Pat’s Thanksgiving feast. But it all finally came together during my last trip to the Royal supermarket.
Well, Royal didn’t have the coconut (buko) I use. Instead, I bought it at the local outdoor market. Quite the process. The stand proprietor whacks a hole in the top and drains the juice into a bag. I gave that away although it is considered a real treat here. Then he took the machete and whacked the buko in half, scraping the contents out with a big spoon and bagging those up.Once I got it home, I diced up the buko so it would blend well in the fruit salad. An immediate difference is that the bags of coconut I’m used to were dry, this fresh buko is wet. I also think the store-bought bags of coconut are probably artificially sweetened.
Let’s see what happens!
Fruit cocktail and mandarin oranges out of the can and drained.A Granny Smith apple diced and into the bowl.Followed by some bananas…Pecans are my nuts of choice, but I made do with walnuts.I’ve always used baby marshmallows, but these were more like premature birth in size.I was in for another surprise with the hard-to-find key ingredient sour cream. Every sour cream I’ve ever seen had to be spooned out of the container. This stuff was liquid. Yikes! It serves as the base ingredient that holds everything else together. Would it work?Well, it may not have the same consistency I’m accustomed to, but it thickened just fine I am happy to report.
How did it taste? Well, different but still good. It might be a tad on the bland side, at least the flavors didn’t seem as sharp as I’m used to. Then again, overnight in the fridge is when the magic takes place as the flavors all blend into a unique mixture of goodness. My initial taste test satisfied my craving for this long-time favorite. And it has now been prepared in three countries!
In other news, I bought a thermometer today and as I suspected I am not running a temperature. That’s kind of a relief. The coughing is much reduced so far today, but my nose is still running like an Olympic medalist. We’ll see how I hold up at today’s Hash.
Here’s some scary stuff:
Don’t forget to duck!
If these guys ever start a band, could they be named anything other than “Boys in the Yard”?
Preparing their hit single “Who let the dogs out?”
That headline is about as racist as it gets, isn’t it? Well, how about this: “Two whites make a wrong”. Is there any difference?
So, I’ve gotten to a place where I can pretty much shrug and ignore the political bullshit back home in the USA. I mean, I ain’t gonna change any minds and people gullible enough to swallow the bullshit they’re being fed pretty much deserve what they get. I’m an old man, I won’t live long enough to deal with the destruction that would ensue should their policies ever actually be implemented.
But what I can’t ignore is blatant racism, you know, the kind where you judge individuals solely based on the color of their skin, not the content of their character. The type of racism Martin Luther King stood up against. Racism like this:
“White people have not changed. Two-thirds of all white guys voted for Trump. That means anytime you see three white guys walking at you, down the street towards you, two of them voted for Trump. You need to move over to the other sidewalk because these are not good people that are walking toward you. You should be afraid of them.”
–Michael Moore
Geez, I’m old enough to remember when crossing the street to avoid a black man was considered racist. How is this different?
In fact, whenever the elites are wailing about all the bad things attributed to white folks I do a simple test to determine if they are racist: I change the color of the skin. If I can’t say it about brown people as a group, you can’t project your own racism on white people. Funny how that works (or at least it should work).
If you encounter a white supremacist, by all means, call him/her out on their ignorance. See a group a Ku Klux Klan protesters, have a counter-demonstration. I bet lots of white folks would be proud to attend such an event. But don’t call me a racist because you don’t like people who share my skin color or share my political beliefs. In other words, don’t be a racist.
A nice day on the water, as seen from the Kokomo’s floating bar.
The sunbeams with a partial camera zoom……as seen with full zoom.And finally with no zoom.
Oh, and the beer was cold too.
In other news, I visited the newest business in town, a small hotel called Outback. In addition to a sports bar (which I’ve not as yet checked out), there is a very nice outdoor poolside bar. Both times I’ve been there I was the only customer. Which gave me the opportunity to chat up the bartender, Lyann. I’m not lyin’ when I tell you that is how her name is pronounced. Which provides plenty of opportunities for a jokester like me to have some fun.
I lifted this photo from her Facebook page so I have no idea what’s up with the Bounce.
Anyway, she’s got a wicked sense of humor (and not just because she laughs at my jokes, she’s funny in her own right too). She can hold her own in a conversation, and while not classically beautiful, she’s cute enough to trip my triggers. Anyway, I enjoy her company but the fact that she has FOUR kids (the oldest is 12) is pretty much a deal-breaker for me relationship-wise. Oh well.
And then there is Jen. I got a Facebook friend request from someone I’d never heard of. That in and of itself is not unusual. I normally look to see if we have any mutual friends and if not, I will just delete the request on the assumption that it is spam. For some inexplicable reason, I made an exception and accepted her friend request. A few hours later I got a message from her and we chatted a bit. I was still clueless about who she was, but I was enjoying our talk. She had obviously been perusing my FB page and mentioned a poem I had posted. Okay, now I was impressed and curious to learn more. I can’t remember the last time I met a woman who actually cared about words in general and poetry in particular. Who is this mystery woman and how did she find me? Finally, she told me her “real” name and sent me a picture.
“Do you recognize me now?” she asked.
Why yes, yes I do! Jen used to work at Double D, a videoke club that closed down several months ago. We are actually Facebook friends on her true account. Although I had met her on the several occasions I had been a patron at Double D, I really didn’t know much about her other than she loves to sing and that she works out at the gym. I had almost always been with Marissa back then, so I didn’t even flirt with her properly.
Anyway, she told me that she had thought of me as someone who is “not serious”, but after reading some of my FB posts she could see there was more to me than bad jokes and off-key singing. Hmm. I suggested we have dinner and find out more about each other. Jen responded that she is tied up with a work project through December 31. Ah. Not sure if that was a polite rejection or if we’ll get together in the New Year. We shall see. I’m definitely intrigued.
Then again, this song came up in my playlist as I did my morning walk:
I thought by now I was too smart Thought I was through givin’ my heart It’s only a game, tears you apart
Falling in love
My poor soul was about to mend Honey, then you smiled at me and then Lord help me, here I go again
Falling in love
Looking back through the bridges I’ve burned Each heartache was a page I turned Never forget the lessons I’ve learned
Falling in love
And I was all through ‘Til we met Never gonna love again and yet Funny how we all forget
Falling in love
And I’m falling in love, falling in love When will I learn? I think I’ll get burned Falling in love
Nothing is worse than a fool like me Think that I would finally see Heaven knows I shouldn’t be Falling in love
One day at a time.
*It’s not Scottie, it’s Scotty. Names matter! Thanks for the education, Kevin.
I have a confession to make. I’ve been spending time today with a 15-year-old. Yeah, I know how creepy that sounds but I hope you won’t judge me too harshly. After all, you are doing it too. Which is my way of saying today marks fifteen years of blogging here at Long Time Gone.
What a ride it has been! I started this blog in preparation for my upcoming move to Korea way back then. Here’s an excerpt from that very first post:
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.
Yeah, the writing has not improved despite all these years of practice. But it has indeed been an adventure and that adventure continues. I certainly had no clue just what a life-changing event that move would turn out to be. But it’s all documented here in the LTG archives. Along the way, I’ve lost two wives, experienced numerous other heartbreaks, made (and repeated) lots of mistakes, learned some things about myself, and discovered a lifestyle beyond anything I’d ever previously imagined. My only real regret is that I didn’t start this quest when I was younger.
Anyway, there is no turning back. I honestly cannot imagine living a vanilla American life again. As mundane and boring as my daily routines may appear in my posts here at LTG, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Who knows what the future will bring? I might wind up changing it all down the road. Or dying on the road I’m on. It’s all about the ride.
And finally, a big thanks to you my faithful readers. Your support and advice over the years have meant more to me than you’ll ever know. Some of you I’ve had the pleasure to have met in person, but most remain anonymous strangers. That you care enough to stop by and read my diary entries makes it all worthwhile. I’ll keep on keepin’ on! You’ve been warned.
Then take it as far as you see and beyond With eyes you don’t use enough to gather up strength As thoroughfare gap, what awaits is whatever you see When you get there of even before
What a way to spend my last day in Seoul! My buddy Kevin Kim shamed enticed me into taking a hike from his residence in Daechang out to Bundang, “only” 18 kilometers upriver. Now, I’ve marched that distance before, but never in one continuous walk. My normal routine is to do a morning hike, nap, then another afternoon hike. Well, it seemed like a challenge I’d have to try to accomplish, and so we set out bright and early this morning on our quest.
Noksapyeong subway station was pretty quiet at 0700…It was pretty chilly too, just a tad below freezing…What the fuck have I got myself into?
Got to Kevin’s place right about 8 and he was waiting outside and rarin’ to go. I hadn’t eaten anything, not even a cup of coffee, but we set out on our journey anyway. I thought I might see a convenience store along the way, but that was a big nope. So, I hiked hungry. My grumbling belly took my mind off the pain in my legs and feet, so there was that.
Getting started.The waterway we followed…A stable water crossing…I appreciated that after all those scary bridges in the Philippines.Birds of a feather flock together.Winter water…Here’s the satellite view of the path we walked. It looks shorter from space.
It took us right at four hours to finish the hike. Then we jumped on a crowded subway back to Kevin’s place. He had promised to make my starvation worthwhile and he kept that promise!
Some fresh-baked chicken roulade…And a plate full of Thanksgiving leftovers made for a damn fine meal.Whatever may have remained of my hunger pangs was satiated with this generous portion of bread pudding. Damn it was good!
Shortly after our meal, I could feel myself fading away. I’d missed my daily nap and that long-ass hike had sucked all the energy from my body. So, with aching legs and a full belly, I said my goodbyes to my gracious host. Thanks again, Kevin!
It was good exploring new paths in an unfamiliar part of town. I couldn’t have done it without you! But man are my dogs tired!
I’m trying to keep my focus on all that I have to be thankful for in life, not the things that I’ve lost and miss. It’s still a struggle at times, but thus far I’m doing much better at avoiding being sucked into the memory hole this trip.
Last night I had a pleasant pork galbi dinner with my former Deputy. She doesn’t drink, so we parted company after we finished our meal. I met up with an old dart buddy and his wife afterward and we caught up over some beers. We said our goodnights at a bar I used to frequent named Arirang. I was sweet on one of the bartenders there back in the day, but alas, she was not at work, she was playing a pool league match.
Next, I ventured over to another of my old haunts, Horse and Cow. I was greeted warmly by the owner, a woman I know only as “mama”.
That’s me saying my goodbye to Mama on my last night before moving to Korea.
Horse and Cow has some history for me. It was where I was the night Loraine sent me her devastating breakup text message. It was also where I met and very briefly dated a Filipina bartender named Joy. Oh man, did that end badly! It was my fault and she was unforgiving. So I was very surprised to see her working last night (she had quit the bar right around the time of our breakup). She didn’t seem all that happy to see me again, but at least she responded to my greeting. She hadn’t spoken to me since the night I called her a f’n bitch (yelled it actually) on the street. Long story that I’m not going to retell now. Anyway, I decided to move on to another bar.
Crystal Bar was another regular stop on my circuit back in the day. And once again I was given a hearty welcome from an old friend working the bar, Seonnyeo.
That’s her on the right…
And wouldn’t you know it? Hana, the girl from Arirang, was playing her pool league match at Crystal. She came over and greeted me as well.
I really liked this one, but sadly it was not a mutual attraction. Then or now.
Anyway, I bought Seonnyo a lady drink, finished my beer and headed out. A few minutes later I received this message from her:
Handsome John! Thanks for you stop by crystal tonight! you’re not forgot here I’m so glad to see u again tonight. It was ssooo surprised me!
Ain’t that sweet?
I popped into the bar next door, one I had kind of scratched off my list of places I’d visit when I still lived here. I was somewhat taken aback to be greeted by name by a woman I didn’t recognize. She told me that another woman I briefly dated, Mi Young, and her had gotten into a fight about me. The explanation was a bit fuzzy or I was a bit drunk, or both, but I had no recollection of anything like that happening. Strange. Anyway, she’s a Filipina and a new Facebook friend:
Nice to meet you (again?) Bon Ivy!
Prudence prevailed and I headed back to my hotel shortly thereafter.
Met up with my old team today for a non-traditional Thanksgiving feast. And when I’m in Korea, that means grilled meats.
Fire it up!Chowin’down!
I was a bit melancholy when after a coffee shop waffle dessert I said my goodbyes. Likely for the last time. It was a good run, but time moves forward, not back.
I walked to the hotel from the coffee shop, a path I often walked when this is where I lived. And then I passed a small store with some hiking pants on display outside. I went inside not hopeful they’d have my size, but after trying on two pairs, one of them actually fit! So for only W12,000 my upcoming massive hike on Saturday will at least be somewhat more comfortable from the waist down.
Some Mexican food and another bar crawl are on tap for tonight.
I’m not sure if yesterday’s Hash is best characterized as either a fiasco, a boondoggle, or a clusterfuck. I report, you decide.
Now, for the record, I was really looking forward to this outstation trip to San Narcisco. I imagined hiking through new terrain, ocean views, and sunset on the beach from our on-home at Mopes Resort.
This was the promotional shot posted on the Hash Facebook page. I actually wound up sitting in that exact seat. But let’s just say my view turned out to be a lot darker.
Needless to say, things didn’t go as planned. Let’s get started on the story through pictures:
Our chariot awaits to transport as from Barretto to San Narcisco, an hour up the highway.Traveling in air-conditioned luxury. Certainly much more comfortable than the Hashmobile.Upon arrival at our destination, the Hares (Leech My Nuggets and Anal Retentive) provided last-minute guidance and instructions. We were told it was a flat trail approximately 9 KM long.And then we hit the trail. On-On!Hashers at work.Flat and scenic. Just the way I like it! So far, so good.And then the first sign of trouble–a water crossing. Okay, that’s a Hare’s prerogative. It’s also the reason I purchased shoes that can handle getting wet.And that crossing was almost immediately followed by this one.It was nice to be back on dry ground.The natives seemed friendly.When you don’t have a lot you appreciate what you do have. I suppose this qualifies as a roof over your head…Now, this was an unusual sight. A rickety bridge to cross. I figured what the hell, my feet are already wet. So I waded across. Everyone else made it across the bridge just fine though.And onward we march.Okay, now this is getting ridiculous. Another water crossing! And this one was deep! Over my waist and we had short Filipinas who don’t swim in the group. One guy was Hashing with his kid and they turned around and went back. A think a couple of others refused to do this crossing as well. I also carry a ziplock baggie for my phone in case of rain, so I put it to good use here. Especially since while I was wading the phone somehow escaped my pocket! Then I heard the person behind me exclaim “Hey, did someone lose a phone?” The damn thing floated inside the baggie. I would have been so pissed if I’d lost my new fucking phone!One final water crossing. That bridge was useless. At least the water wasn’t deep and I was already soaked anyway.The final stretch. We saw a Hashmark with the message “beer is near”. That meant we were almost to the beach and a short hike onward to Mopes Resort.Good thing too!
Hmm. That sign was the first indication of the trouble to come. Up ahead in the distance I could see a group of Hashers congregated around a vehicle. Then I looked behind me and saw several motorbikes approaching. As they got nearer I noticed the men were wearing uniforms and heavily armed. About this time, the group from up ahead had turned around and were walking back towards us, followed closely by a military vehicle. This can’t be good.
And it wasn’t. It seems we had ventured onto land that belonged to the Philippine Navy and we weren’t welcome to be there. We all assumed we were being escorted off the base. It wasn’t exactly the Bataan Death March or anything, but we did go a couple of kilometers before reaching a paved road. Again, we all thought we’d just walk on to the highway and catch transportation back to the on-home resort. Nope.
After standing around awhile, this bus arrived and we were directed to board it. And that’s just what we did. We thought they were driving us to the base gate so we called the Hare’s and told them to send the bus for us there.
But the bus stopped short of the gate, although we could see it from where we were. Which was the base security headquarters building. Now we were told they just needed to get us to all write down our names before we were released. Okay, sure no problem.
I guess 24 Hashers were quite the spectacle. The enlisted guys were all pretty friendly though and even posed with us for a photo op.
After we had filled out our names we were told to wait until the officer on duty came to formally release us. In due course, a couple of officers came by and asked some questions. They had no clue what a Hash is or what we were all about. More importantly, the officer in charge appeared totally indecisive as to what to do with us. We did note that our trespassing had been inadvertent and unintentional. Our mistake was facilitated by a lack of any fences or warning signs that we were in a restricted area. That didn’t seem to make a bit of difference to the officer. Apparently “we should have known better”. Our assurances that it would never happen again didn’t sway him either. So we all stood around while he dithered and dathered and consulted with his staff. The sun went down and there we were standing in the gloom. We could see our bus in the distance, so near and yet so far.
Some of the guys were getting pissed. I was hungry and aggravated, but I also knew that being rude towards our captors was not going to improve our situation at all. Finally, the officer made some kind of decision, then got in a car and left. One of his underlings advised us that we would have to be photographed before we could leave. So, we all stood and posed individually for said photo, and wrote our name once again on a sheet of paper. Now can we go?
Um, no. Not yet. It seems they wanted us to be checked medically so as to preclude any future claims that we had been abused or mistreated. Okay, now I knew this was all bullshit. They were intentionally holding us without recourse for as long as possible. To what end I do not know.
Finally, after we had been held up for nearly two hours they advised we could sign a waiver in lieu of the medical exam. The thought crossed my mind that once we signed they could beat us with impunity. Oh well, I signed anyway. And for some reason, I remembered a Cheech and Chong skit from way back in my stoner days called “sign ze papers”. I hadn’t thought of that in 40 years! Good stuff though. I’m going to embed it at the end of this post. Although it was probably funnier when you’re high.
Anyway, after we had all signed we asked if we could leave. Not yet, someone needed to make an announcement before we left. They did let us call the bus to come to where we were and pick us up, so that was a good sign. Finally, an obese woman in a Navy uniform came out and formally released us, but first, we would all have to be individually called by name and have our nationality added to the previous papers we had signed. And so it was done and we finally departed the custody of the Philippine Navy.
Here’s the trail. I’m not sure if you can see it, but the map indicates where we were captured. So close to the beach. Not sure why they just wouldn’t let us proceed.Finally got to Mopes. Well, in a roundabout way. The bus couldn’t actually drive all the way to Mopes because the road was too narrow. That meant catching a ride or walking another kilometer. I caught a ride. And oh yeah, as hungry as I was, the food at Mopes still sucked. The beer was cold though.And we did an abbreviated Hash circle as well. I got gigged for littering on trail (my phone) and was also recognized for completing my 75th SBH3 Hash. It is one I will definitely not forget!
The bus ride home was fueled with more beer drinking and the singing of Hash songs. One of the more popular songs is “Jesus Can’t Go Hashing”. Here’s a sample:
Melody: The Battle Hymn of the Republic Lyrics: Jesus can’t go hashing ‘cuz his feet are tied together Jesus can’t go hashing ‘cuz his feet are tied together Jesus can’t go hashing ‘cuz his feet are tied together Jesus saves, Jesus saves, Jesus saves Chorus: More beer for all the Hashers More beer for all the Hashers More beer for all the Hashers Jesus saves, Jesus saves, Jesus saves
Jesus can’t go Hashing ‘cos his Dad knows all the trails Jesus can’t go Hashing ‘cos his Dad knows all the trails Jesus can’t go Hashing ‘cos his Dad knows all the trails Jesus saves, Jesus saves, Jesus saves (chorus) Jesus can’t go hashing cuz he turns the beer to wine Jesus can’t go hashing cuz he turns the beer to wine Jesus can’t go hashing cuz he turns the beer to wine Jesus saves, Jesus saves, Jesus saves (chorus)
Anyway, you get the idea. What we do is make up new verses as we go along. And last night this was my contribution:
Jesus can’t go hashing cause he’s in Navy custody
Jesus can’t go hashing cause he’s in Navy custody
Jesus can’t go hashing cause he’s in Navy custody
Jesus saves, Jesus saves, Jesus saves
And so ended a cluster fuck of fiascos leading to a day of boondoggles. But I survived.
Well, technically you might call it a burglary. Since I was in the house at the time it felt more like a home invasion though.
Here’s how it went down. At the conclusion of a typical day, I shut off the lights around 10 p.m. and headed upstairs to bed. As has become their custom I allowed the dogs to accompany me. At around 2:30 a.m. I awoke to the sound of Lucky emitting a solitary bark. In my sleepy daze, I thought that odd. I noticed Buddy was laying over by the patio door and seemed to be looking outside. Lucky was beside me on the bed but his ears were perked up and his attention was elsewhere. I decided to see what was going on downstairs.
Buddy followed me out of the bedroom but instead of bounding down the stairs as he normally does, he went halfway, then poked his head through the railing and sniffed. Now I knew something was up. When I reached the bottom I looked over to my desk and immediately noticed my laptop computer was missing. I looked in the living room and discovered the sliding door to the patio was halfway open.
I turned on the lights and began to do a damage assessment. Laptop gone, but the plug and mouse were still there. My phone was missing from the desk too. Then I noticed the shopping bag containing my new hiking shoes and socks I purchased yesterday was gone. Finally, my backup phone had been stolen as well.
Damn. I guess I’ve been lucky maybe, but this was the first time I’d ever experienced anything like this. I got dressed and walked over to the guard station at the entrance to the subdivision and reported the crime. They came back to the house and shined their flashlights around the yard, but of course, the perpetrator was long gone.
I remained sleepless the remainder of the morning and didn’t have the internet or Facebook to keep me company. So I stewed in the realization of just how foolishly complacent I had been regarding home security. First of all, my house is not protected by a high wall like most of the homes in this subdivision. That makes me a target as a path of least resistance. And those sliding glass doors even when locked are easily opened. I’d done so myself one night after forgetting my key. Letting the dogs stay with me upstairs behind closed doors was also foolish and at some level, I knew that was the case. If they’d been downstairs they would have been barking like crazy, waking me up and likely scaring off the thieves (I’m assuming more than one because someone alone would have a hard time carrying everything).
So yeah, I have to accept the blame for not remembering where I am and for making myself such an easy target. Today I had some workmen out to make those sliding doors much harder to get open. The dogs will be sleeping downstairs henceforth the better to keep watch on things. And the guards will be keeping a closer eye on my house, at least for the time being.
And life goes on. I bought a new phone ($300), a new laptop ($500), and a new pair of hiking shoes ($100) today. Experience is a bitch sometimes, but a great facilitator of learning. I’ll be more careful and aware of the risks moving forward, that’s for sure. I also know that things could have gone much worse. If I had been downstairs a few minutes sooner I may have encountered the intruders. They might very well have been armed. A knife to the chest would have ruined more than my day I reckon.
