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.
It’s not like I’m washed up or anything, but yesterday’s Hash was a washout for me. Or more precisely, a rainout. The skies opened up around 3:00 and the rain continued periodically throughout the afternoon. Of course, the Hash goes on, rain or shine, but I just wasn’t feeling it. The Hare, Vienna Sausage, has a reputation for doing Alps-like climbs and I just wasn’t prepared to go there in the rain and the mud. I was not alone in that decision as probably only a third of 39 Hashers in attendance actually did the trail. I opted for a one hour hike on pavement and left it at that.
The runners are already gone, these hardy walkers are being driven out to the start of the short (5.7K) trail.
After I’d completed my own trail I popped into Cheap Charlies to await the beginning of the on-home activities across the street at Hot Zone.
I had to laugh because the place was packed with like-minded Hashers.As seen from the vantage point at Cheap Charlies, the first of the runners arrived after completing the muddy trail. That was the signal for the rest of us to join them and start drinking our free beer. (Hash tradition holds that socialites and other early returners are precluded from partaking in the liquid refreshments until the first person to complete the trail returns. Oh, and the beer is technically not free. Men pay 350 pesos ($7.) in weekly Hash dues for the privilege of enjoying an all-you-can-drink on-home event. I always work hard to get my money’s worth!)The rooftop provided no shelter from the rain showers that periodically came down upon us. Umbrellas did help though.
Anyway, it wasn’t a great day for a Hash but we made the best of it. Still raining off and on today as well. I guess if all I’ve got to complain about is the weather things must be going pretty good, right?
Oh, I did come across some more Fiesta related information on my personal Hash trail yesterday. It’s a barangay-wide event as opposed to being city-wide, with events taking place in the various puroks around town. (A barangay is a village within the city, a purok is a neighborhood within the village).
Lots of exciting events are on the menu! Barrio Barretto will be rockin’ this weekend! I’m especially looking forward to the “Gay basketball exhibition”. Well, actually I don’t give a hoot. But one of the things about Filipino culture that I do admire is that gays/transgenders are totally accepted as part of the community. No one gives a shit about sexuality or how you identify. Be who you want to be and leave us to be who we are. Folks back home would do well to give that a try!
Damn it! It’s pouring rain again, just when I was fixin’ to do my afternoon walk. Now what? Well, I came across this mildly interesting article today:
I talked to a Russian man who, during the 1980 Moscow Olympics, found himself working near the stadium box where Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev was going to sit for the opening ceremony. He was standing by when Brezhnev’s security detail stormed in ahead of the General Secretary, and demanded to know what certain metal poles were doing in a particular place. Technicians explained that these were the supports for the TV lights that would illuminate Comrade Brezhnev.
“We didn’t agree to these things!” one of the KGB men barked. “Get rid of them!”
You didn’t argue with the KGB. Down came the poles. And so, at the 1:25 mark in the opening ceremony (see above), when the camera lands on Brezhnev as he is introduced to the crowd, and to the watching world, the General Secretary is shrouded in darkness.
“That was the first clue I had that the system was going to fall,” said my Russian interlocutor. He meant that a system that caused a globally humiliating mistake like that to happen, because certain people in authority thought they knew better, and everybody below them was reasonably terrified to tell them no — a system like that was going to collapse.
I guess the reason I found it noteworthy was that it reminded me of one of the highlights of my government career. As usual, the Korean government was not wanting to pony up the amount of money the Americans thought necessary to pay for the US forces stationed in Korea. So, the USFK Commander (a four-star General) was frustrated and decided to pursue action that would send an appropriate message to the Koreans. I was invited because I was the civilian personnel director with oversight of our Korean workforce. So, the General’s big plan was to furlough our Korean workers. The room was packed with General Officers, Colonels and the like. They were all nodding their heads approvingly and saying “yes, sir!”. I’m sitting in the back of the room pretty much unnoticed. So I raised my hand and said: “excuse me, sir”. “Yes, what is it?” the General barked. I responded “I can do the union notification and issue the furlough letters. But I hope you understand this means we won’t have anyone to drive the school buses, clean the hospital, serve food in the mess hall…” The look on his face! He turned to the 2-star Marine General next to him and asked: “why wasn’t I informed of this?” Woo boy! Suffice to say we didn’t do the furlough and I got a lot of dirty looks from the yes men after that meeting.
So, I did the Halloween party thing last night. I’m not into that whole wearing a costume routine, the last time I did was three years ago at Eun Oke’s insistence. Anyway, people kept asking me if I was going to “dress up,” so I figured, hell, why not? I got my old work suit out of storage and dressed up for the occasion. It was actually pretty funny hearing people guess who I was supposed to be. And I couldn’t help but think that I’m far enough removed now from my working life that dressing as a government bureaucrat makes for a good enough costume.
The party was held at the Queen Victoria bar and it was packed. Even had a live band playing. There was also a makeup artist on hand, so I took advantage to spice up my “costume” some.
I didn’t feel a thing.
There was a woman there I hadn’t met before, but I just had to pose with her:
I think we might have wound up getting married…Oh, and Ilene was there as well. Looking amazing. Those eyes! She got second place in the costume contest. The bride pictured with me earlier took first.That Trump 2020 hat must have scared the shit out of any liberals around last night.That clown next to me is a Hasher…I didn’t spend much time listening to the band, but they sounded fine as background noise.“He did the mash. He did the monster mash…”
A drunken good time was had. Apparently.
I was working in the lab late one night, When my eyes beheld an eerie sight. For my monster from his slab began to rise, And suddenly to my surprise, He did the Monster Mash. (The Monster Mash, ) It was a graveyard smash. (He did the Mash, ) It caught on in a flash. (He did the Mash, ) He did the Monster Mash.
Greetings from the Philippines. And as I write this I’m currently sitting safely at home. Stick around for an explanation of this post’s title.
A very busy day in the life yesterday. Going backward in time, here’s how it went down:
I played darts last night for the first time in a couple of weeks. I was quite surprised at my performance overall. I threw the rare (for me) ton-80 (three triple 20s = 180 points, the highest score possible) and was rewarded with a free drink coupon. More importantly, I guess, my partner and I went undefeated on the night, including a hard-fought win against Steve, the Englishman who doesn’t drink.
My partner, Tommy, is a Swedish guy with a hot Japanese wife, not sure how that happens. That’s Jo and Christy who we beat in the winner’s bracket. As is my custom, when it came time to play the finals, I suggested we call it a tie and split 1st and 2nd place money. They readily agreed and we all went home drunk and happy. Well, at least I did.
Waiting patiently at home for me was this:
It’s been quite some time since I’ve attempted a pot roast in the slow cooker. I started this one at 8 a.m. and given my late night of darts, didn’t stop cooking it until after 9 p.m. The meat was so tender it fell apart with a fork, something I’ve not been able to achieve since the move to the Philippines and using the Australian beef that is available here. This is a picture of my lunchtime leftovers today.
My Wednesday started with the normal dog walking routine, then I headed out to join the Sausage Walkers for our weekly hike.
Waiting for the 10 a.m. start at Angel’s Bakery. That young woman in front of me is a new member of the group, Ilene. I’m quite attracted to her and got really excited when she sent me a Facebook friend request a few days ago. She’s a manager at Treasure Island Resort and I popped in there a couple of times hoping to get some indication the attraction was mutual. Alas, she gave me no sign that that was indeed the case. Oh well. Judging by what I’ve seen of her life on Facebook, she may actually be out of my league. She is at the gym a lot and does this decathlon-like competition. If she were mine I might not be able to keep up with her. Probably better to just play it safe. Up we go! Lookin’ good Ilene!Into the wild green yonder…Catching our breath. Ilene takes mine away. What a cutie!This wasn’t the fun part!Movin’ on out… As usual, I’m at the back of the pack. “Wait for me, Ilene!”Yeah, yeah, I’m the slow old guy. Sorry to keep y’all waiting…Sausage Walkers group shot. Largest turnout we’ve had in quite some time!All told, the hike came in at just under 8K. That’s about right for me…It appears I enjoyed myself. One commenter on Facebook said I need a bra. Excuse me, jealous much?
So, it was much more fun than I had on my solo hike on Tuesday afternoon. I took the familiar My Bitch trail but was looking for the turn-off path that leads back down into Marian Hills and onward to my home in the Alta Vista subdivision. But damn, that fuckin’ thatch grass was so thick and tall I couldn’t find the trail. Couldn’t see the path for the grass as it were. I mean, I knew I was at the junction (a stand of banana trees is my landmark) so I bravely dove into the wild thinking surely I’d find a way down, if not the way. I spent about 30 minutes at it and then got paranoid. Yeah, I was pretty much lost and thinking about all the bad things that could potentially happen to me, like stepping off a cliff. I realized that were I to get hurt, no one would find me. So, prudence prevailed and I carefully retreated. Once back up top, I continued on to Rizal Extension and the long-ass walk back to my house. What I thought would be a one hour walk turned out to be 2.5 hours long.
Anyway, this afternoon I’m going back. But this time I’m going to work my way up from the bottom. I’ll find that f’n trail or die trying! So, I guess this might be goodbye…
Come down off your throne and leave your body alone Somebody must change You are the reason I’ve been waiting so long Somebody holds the key
But I’m near the end and I just ain’t got the time And I’m wasted and I can’t find my way home
Come down on your own and leave your body alone Somebody must change You are the reason I’ve been waiting all these years Somebody holds the key
But I’m near the end and I just ain’t got the time And I’m wasted and I can’t find my way home
But I can’t find my way home But I can’t find my way home But I can’t find my way home But I can’t find my way home Still I can’t find my way home And I ain’t done nothing wrong But I can’t find my way home
The song that was in my head during my fruitless effort to find the path I was seeking…
I’ve mentioned the above-named bar in passing several times on the blog, but I don’t recall ever talking much about the place itself and how it operates. I guess the best place to start is to talk about the kind of bar it is not.
In Barretto, there are different types of bars catering to the specific tastes and interests of their customers. Most ubiquitous are the “girly” or “go-go” bars. This type of establishment features scantily clad young women dancing on a stage for your entertainment. If you see a gal you like you can ask her to join you at your table for a drink. These drinks cost at least twice as much as a customer drink and some of that price difference goes to the girl as a commission. Many bars have a minimum quota of drinks the girls must have bought for them in order to earn their full salary. In some of these bars, the girls can be quite aggressive in their pursuit of a lady drink.
The dancers (and waitresses for that matter) in these girly bars are also available for “take out”. In other words, they are prostitutes. Now, prostitution is technically illegal in the Philippines, so it is not called that. What happens is this: you see a girl you fancy, call her down for a drink, and if things click, you negotiate with the girl a price for her to accompany you “short-time” (two or three hours) or “long-time” (overnight). My understanding is that the going rate is somewhere between P2000-P4000 ($40-$80) depending on the girl and your negotiating skills. Out of that amount, the girl must pay a “barfine” of around P750 for an early work release. The idea is that once the girl and the guy leave the bar, whatever happens between two consenting adults is nobody’s business but their own.
Anyway, I’m personally not into paying for sex. I might spend an hour or two a week in a girly bar. I occasionally buy a lady drink and have a chat with a girl, as much out of sympathy as anything else. I honestly do feel sorry for the girls, it has got to be a tough job. Dancing all night, hoping you attract enough attention to meet your lady drink quota. I find it all somewhat depressing somehow. When I first visited the Philippines, I questioned whether I was actively participating in the exploitation of these young women. In the end, I decided I was not. None of the girls have been forced into this life (and none are required to go with a customer). They’ve chosen to be a bargirl because it was their best option to earn decent money for their families (most of the gals have kids at home). When the do-gooders come to town and have the bars raided and shut down as dens of prostitution, no one cares what happens to the girls who are now unemployed. Some of them wind up on the street in much worse circumstances.
A “hostess bar” is another kind of bar you most frequently see in our little town. These bars employ GRO’s (guest relations officers), a fancy name for a bargirl who works for lady drink commissions. In most cases, these girls are not available for takeout/barfine. Depending on the bar, the girls can also be quite aggressive in their pursuit of earning money from drinks. Some guys call these gals drink sluts. I won’t frequent a bar where I’m harassed for a drink. And while I’m relatively generous when it comes to buying lady drinks, I prefer to offer rather than be asked. Sometimes I enjoy a bargirl’s company, other times I want to drink alone. That’s just how I roll, and in the bars where I’m a regular, the girls understand that.
So, back to Cheap Charlies. It’s an open-air rooftop bar, currently, the only one of its kind in Barretto (another similar bar will be opening soon across the street). They play a variety of good songs (customer requests are accepted) through a quality sound system, with the accompanying music video on a large screen TV. And there are great views to be enjoyed, along with watching the people pass by on the highway.
Watching the clouds roll in……and watching the sun go down. I enjoy these views much more than watching dancing girls.
Cheap Charlies always had a lot of GRO’s working for drinks, but they were almost never aggressive about it. In fact, it was specifically against the rules to ask a customer for anything. That worked great for me, when I wanted to be alone I got left alone. And I had my favorites when I wanted some chat with my drink. Until last week when the bar made this big announcement:
Big changes at Cheap Charlies Bar today. We want and have always wanted the bar to be a space for customers to relax, socialise and have fun, against a backdrop of good customer service and great music. We also want staff to enjoy and take pride in their work. But ladies drinks and entertaining impede all of that.
Today, Cheap Charlies Bar enters a new era. No more ladies drinks and no more entertaining. From here on in, for us it’s all about music, friends and fun.
Some people liked the change in policy, others like me were very much opposed. So, overnight the bar went from having 10-15 GROs to employing just four waitresses who were not allowed to sit with customers or accept individual tips. That tipping thing also pissed me off. I don’t like a community tip jar, I want to tip the person who serves me directly. When that option is taken away, I’m not inclined to tip at all. Also, all my previous favorites were no longer employed at the bar. I started counting the days until the new bar across the street opens.
The day after the big announcement, Graham, who owns the bar and with whom I’m slightly acquainted, suffered a massive stroke. He’s still in the ICU unit in Pampangna (no hospital here could accommodate his needs, which is scary in and of itself). They say there is a “magic hour” for stroke victims to be treated, Graham was not admitted to a hospital for almost eight. Here’s hoping he gets lucky and has a successful recovery. I fear he has a long and difficult road ahead.
I’m not sure who’s running the bar in Graham’s absence. But the couple of times I was in there after the big change, it was a lot less busy. One night there was only a solitarybakla (transgender female) present to keep the four male customers company (I took a pass, although she was quite friendly). But what was really noticeable was that there was just an entirely different vibe without all the girls present. I missed their laughing and goofing around. Frankly, it felt boring in the bar without them around. Someone else must have noticed as well because there was a new announcement this week:
To All Our Valued Customers All we want to do here at Cheap Charlies Bar for the best interest of our customers and staff for them to have fun and enjoy in a relax and friendly environment. The staff and customers are important to us and their opinion to help us improve our service.
That’s why we want to bring back the fun environment and we will bring the ladies drink back starts on Monday. With this please visit us for a company or just to relax and drink.
Come at Cheap Charlies on Monday and if you buy 3 drinks for yourself, your 4th drink will be free.
We also like and planning to do special promo every once a week. Cheers
Now, that is right off their Facebook page. Obviously, the person who posted this big change announcement is not a master of English (like I’m one to talk, right?). I suspect it comes from Graham’s Filipino girlfriend, but that’s pure speculation on my part. I know Graham didn’t make the change because he remains incapacitated and incommunicado at the hospital. Still, it’s a good move in my opinion. And based on the crowd last night, I’m not alone in that viewpoint. And best of all, two of my all-time favorites are back at the bar (they had both left long before the recent upheaval).
Welcome back Maya and Rosemarie!
Heh, I just did a quick search and see that I wrote about Maya before. Rosemarie had moved to Manila several months ago and now she’s back. Funny story about her. Some long-ago day I was out on one of my walks and passing through one of the poorer sections of town. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a young woman’s backside. As I enjoyed the view she turned around and gave me a big smile. “Hello, John,” she said. I was dumbfounded and had no idea who she was. Seeing my confusion, she told me “I work at Cheap Charlies”. So, it took me a few visits before I could find that ass face again, but ever since I’ve enjoyed sharing a drink with her.
I wound up buying both girls three drinks each last night. Welcome back to Cheap Charlies! All is again right with the world. Or at least my little corner of it.
I make a lot of unforced errors when I write. Some of that is just old fashioned sloppiness. And the rest is simply ignorance. Back in high school, English was one of my better subjects. But even in those long-ago days, I would earn an “A” for content and a “D” for mechanics.
Don’t believe me?
Obviously, grammar, spelling, and punctuation have never been my strong suits. Thank God for spellcheck! And as I write this I’m downloading an app called “Grammarly” which purports to flag the kind of mistakes I frequently make here at LTG. We shall see.
What prompts this newfound interest in getting it right after almost 15 years of blogging? Shame mostly. My buddy and grammar Nazi regular reader Kevin Kim will occasionally point out my most egregious errors, either via comment here or in an email. I actually do appreciate his willingness to help me improve the quality of my writing. He’s threatened to use me as a bad example in a post on his blog concerning proper comma usage. In a recent email exchange, I foolishly asked if he had noticed my efforts to improve my comma placement. His reply was along the lines of “not so much.” He then proceeded to point out no fewer than six usage errors in the first three paragraphs of my most recent blog post. Ouch!
Honestly, I was very impressed with his sincere efforts to educate me in an area where I’ve been pretty much clueless. And it also prompted him to finally begin writing about commas on his blog. You need to go give it read, whether you care about proper punctuation or not. It’s really quite in-depth and fascinating. Who thought a mere comma could be so interesting? And his post is just part 1 of a six-part effort. I’m not being facetious when I say that when it comes to all things grammar, Kevin Kim is a freakin’ genius.
I’m going to make a sincere effort to apply this new-found knowledge, starting with the concept of “FANBOY”. If like me, you hadn’t heard that term, it relates to using a combination of a comma plus a coordinating conjunction: for, and, nor, but, or, yet–-FANBOY, get it?
Now, what I need to avoid is being self-conscious when I write. I’m kind of in a storyteller mode when I blog. I don’t want to feel like I’m back in high school writing an essay. But given the low-quality of my content here, I do hope to improve on the composition grade!
Have at it!
UPDATE: I did run this post through my new Grammarly app. How did we do?
I fly out in the morning, so here’s a photo essay of my final hours in Saigon.
Monday night on Walking Street, the bar area in the “backpacker” district. Walking street is a bit of a misnomer, given that there was still plenty of motorbike traffic to avoid…This sign gave me a chuckle, although it was not enough to lure me in…I reckon I’ll miss Saigon some, but probably not the Miss Saigon…Truth be told, I didn’t really like the Walking street experience at all. It seemed like every bar was trying to out blast their neighbor’s bullshit music. Just give me that ole time rock-n-roll! Pretty busy for a Monday evening and it was obvious that the bars were going for a younger crowd. I don’t fit that demographic anymore nor do I want to…Hmm, what should I eat?Ah, this will do! Yeah, I had a burger and fries in Vietnam. Man does not live by Pho alone!So much to learn, so little time…An oyster bar snack, then bedtime…Up early this morning and after the hotel buffet, I headed out for my walk. Wound up down by the Saigon river.This is a tough city to walk in. Most streets have sidewalks but they serve mostly as motorcycle parking areas. It was a nice break to have an unobstructed path to walk and no need to dodge traffic…Enjoying the Saigon River views…Some type of government building. The red star Vietnamese flag and the omnipresent hammer and cycle are testaments to the communist heritage of the united Vietnam…And yet, free enterprise abounds as evidenced by the Ho Chi Minh stock exchange…And religion is openly practiced as well, at least the nuns I saw weren’t shy about parading about in their habits…Remnants of the war to expel the imperialist invaders and reunite the people of Vietnam, as seen at the Ho Chi Minh museum.The worst part of Saigon? Well, 7 million motorbikes make walking around a hazardous undertaking…The best part of Saigon? Well, I’ve got to say that the beauty of the Vietnamese women certainly rivals that of the Korean females I’ve so dearly loved…And after much exploration and trial and error, I can declare the In Sai Gong rooftop bar as my favorite watering hole. Although I never did have a water there…Here’s a job I could never do. Gave me the willies just watching them swing around up there like Spiderman…After all that walking, I was ready for some lunch. Chose this Vietnamese place around the corner from my hotel. Most expensive place I’ve eaten at this trip, but why not splurge and live a little? I am on vacation after all.Started with some honey garlic pork ribs that were quite delicious…Then I had half a roasted chicken that was possibly cooked (there were scorch marks on the bottom) and obviously served in this bamboo tube. Never seen that before. However it was prepared, it came out tasting most excellent.And when you order half a chicken, you get half a chicken. Including this foot. None for me, thanks!
Still a few nighttime hours to fill. Plan is to see Alex and the boys play darts then say my goodbyes. Probably head over to In Sai Gong for a final cold beer as well. Then it’s off to the airport at 0630 for my 0930 flight to Manila.
I’m glad I finally made it to Saigon. And even more glad it wasn’t as a soldier.
UPDATE: Well, turns out I was also “wrapping it up” back in November, 2015. I also had no idea that Jee Yeun would be wrapping up the marriage just a month later. Still hurts.
I’m going to say right up front that I’m no “foodie”. In fact, I’m not all that adventurous when it comes to exploring local cuisine in general and street food in particular. So, why am I doing a post about the food I’ve eaten thus far during my Vietnam adventure?
Kevin Kim that is. One of my faithful readers and commenters truly is a foodie and has expressed interest in how I like the food here.
Let’s eat!
This morning’s breakfast. My hotel has a free buffet and it’s not bad. They have an egg station where you can eat more traditionally, but where’s the fun in that? That’s a nice clam and corn soup in the bowl. Curried chicken and spiced fish, bacon, watermelon and a tasty roll. I didn’t like the fish, the only “traditional” Vietnamese dish on my plate. It was too hot for my taste.They also have a juice station, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to drink this! Yeah, yeah, I’ve licked my share over the years, but you’ve got to draw the line somewhere…
Last night, my pal Alex invited me out to his favorite restaurant for some leg of lamb.
I guess one of the last vestiges of the French colonial days is the abundance of tasty baked breads.The meal also featured a tasty Greek salad.About the only time I eat lamb is in a kebab, so I’m no expert. But this had a unique flavor which I assume was a Vietnamese twist to spicing. It was really good.No one had a bone to pick about the meal……right Alex?
The best meal I’ve had so far though was the lunch served during the Mekong river tour I took on Friday. It was also probably the most traditional Vietnamese fare I’ve had on this trip.
I have absolutely never seen fish served in this fashion. When I first set down at the table I thought it was just a decoration. It was quite tasty.Some of the other dishes served, including meat on a stick, spring rolls, and those yellow fish-eye looking things.
Now one Vietnamese diet staple is the bahn mi sandwich. I think I saw them featured on an old Anthony Bourdain episode and I’ve wanted to try one since I arrived. Oddly enough, when I asked hotel staff for a good bahn mi restaurant, I was told the best ones were from the street vendors. Go figure. Anyway, after my morning walk yesterday, I brought one home:
Decisions, decisions. I went with the pork… Oh, if you are curious, the dollar buys 23,000 dong at current exchange rates. So these sandwiches are relatively inexpensive. It felt good cashing in those Ben Franklin’s and walking out of the bank with some big dong! *ahem*My bahn mi chef hard at work…
It was quite tasty, although I would have liked more meat. At Subway I always ordered double meat, an option I was unable to request given the language barrier…
Dining out has kind of been hit or miss. Usually drink until hungry, then either eat at the bar or pop into a nearby restaurant. Sometimes I’m not even sure what’s on offer. Stopped into this place the other night with some mates, and it was almost like being back in Korea, but without kimchi.
Yep, grilled meats! And this seafood stew was quite good as well…
And about the only other Vietnamese delicacy I’ve had thus far is a soup called Pho.
Looks like this and is also quite tasty. Although the one I had was chicken and there were more noodles than meat. Especially good after some hard beer drinking.
Did an all day tour yesterday, featuring the Cu Chi tunnels and the Mekong river delta area, both of which are about an hour and a half from Saigon. I do enjoy travel and seeing new places and things, but I don’t like being a tourist. Or to be more precise, I don’t enjoy guided tours much. Yesterday was a prime example of why.
Got picked up at the hotel as scheduled at 7:30, then drove a ways across town in heavy traffic to pick up more tourists. When everyone was on board a bit after 8:00 we headed south. Our tour guide was a 20-something Vietnamese man who said his name was “Laughing”. His English was almost understandable. He seemed very proud of his country and there is nothing wrong with that of course. But my first red flag of the day was when we pulled into a small factory where traditional Vietnam paintings made from eggshells and seashells were manufactured. Laughing told the government built the factory to enable area residents who had suffered birth defects after American use of poison gas during the war. I assumed he meant Agent Orange. Throughout the day, Laughing never missed an opportunity to regurgitate the anti-American propaganda he’d been fed his whole life.
Anyway, the factory was NOT part of the tour package and it was only mildly interesting to see the process used by the workers in creating their art. And surprise, surprise the guide led us into a large showroom full of completed objects available for our purchase. For the first of many times I muttered “this is bullshit”.
In due course we made on way onward to the Cu Chi tunnels that had been instrumental in the North’s attacks on the South throughout the war. It was a pretty impressive engineering fete, no question about it. Laughing’s commentary about the means and methods used to kill the American invaders got old pretty fast though. I found myself biting my tongue to avoid asking what about the South Vietnamese Army troops, who far outnumbered the Yanks, were as fun to kill as well. Anyway, you get the idea. And I acknowledge that the victor gets to write the history of the war in the manner of his choosing. Hell, I was a vocal opponent of the war back then, but something about Laughing’s gleeful stories about how the wise Viet Cong lured the foolish Americans into their gruesome traps was off-putting. I was glad to finally depart for the Mekong portion of the tour.
We stopped for lunch along the way and I’ll have to give credit where it is due, it was a damn fine meal. I’m going to do a “foodie” post tomorrow, so I’ll save that story and photos until then.
The Mekong was disappointing as well, or to be fair, not what I expected. I was envisioning a river cruise, instead we boarded a derelict river boat and went to the other side. Upon arrival, we were served a honey tea and some banana chips. Both were quite good. Then Laughing came around with a beehive and talked about how the honey was used in several “miracle” products to improve health and skin. And wouldn’t you know it? Those products just happened to be available for purchase. I thought now that is real B.S. (bee shit). I did buy some overpriced banana chips which were quite tasty.
Next we walked a bit up the river to a place where we were treated to some traditional Vietnamese music. I’m sorry, the Vietnamese spoken language is even more grating on the ears than Chinese. At least to me. And when sung it sounds like high pitched screeching. The instruments were twangy but not unpleasant however. Tip boxes were conveniently brought around to our tables and of course I contributed. After all, the did stop singing and that was a behavior worth rewarding!
We then walked some more, boarded golf carts for a bit, then walked through some yards (felt like Hashing almost), and then boarded some canoe like things for a ride down a canal and back to the riverside. We were encouraged to tip the boat rowers, and hell, they deserved it managing to move our fat asses downstream.
Once back on the river shore we were given a demonstration of how coconut candy was made. Didn’t much care about that, although the sample was tasty enough. And of course, they had some for sale. No thanks!
Back on the boat at last and we were provided some coconut juice (still in the shell) to enjoy. Then we boarded the van for the two hour ride back to Saigon, where we arrived at 6:00 p.m. It was a long day of touring and it took several hours of beer drinking last night to wash the taste out of my mouth. Here’s the photos:
A tunnel. I went into one but didn’t stay long. It required crawling around on my hands and knees to get through. No thanks!One of the booby traps used to kill or maim American soldiers. No mention of the South Vietnam troops though.Laughing took great pleasure in describing the way these traps caused painful injuries made worse by trying to escape. More traditional killing machines were also on display…By the end of the tour I was ready to kick some Viet Cong ass, not withstanding my opposition to the war…An hour and a half later we stopped at this rest area for lunch. Nicest rest area I’ve ever seen and the food was quite good.We finally arrived at the Mekong river…And boarded this piece of shit for a river ride.That’s Laughing describing how clean and wonderful the Mekong waters are, despite the brown color.If you say so…The bees that shit to make the honey that makes the miracle cures that just happened to be on sale…Then it was time for a pain in the ears. Not saying they weren’t talented, just not to my liking.Down this creek we were destined to travel…Thankfully, we had two locals to do the paddling…That would be me back aboard our river yacht enjoying some coconut juice.And then a two hour ride back to Saigon. I’m told there are 7 million motorbikes in the city and I believe it…I’m not sure what it is about a Vietnamese gal on a bike that trips my triggers. Oh wait, maybe she’s right!Finished the night with beers and music from a Filipino band. Much easier on my old man ears, that’s for sure.
Alright, dinner plans tonight and hopefully something worthwhile to add to my foodie post tomorrow. Stay tuned!
So far, so good. Still feeling my way around Saigon/HCMC, but I rather like it. In fact, Vietnam is now ahead of Cambodia as a “Plan B” option should life in the Philippines not work out. Saigon (I prefer that name and will use it henceforth) is comparatively clean (isn’t everywhere compared to the PI?), modern, and bustling. I have never in my life seen so many damn motor scooters! I’m pressed for time this afternoon, so let’s let the photos do the talking.
DAY 1: Nice airport, only hold up was the visa process took about 30 minutes, but sailed through immigration/customs. Hotel transportation was there waiting and whisked us to the Lotus Central hotel.
It is a clean and functional 8 story hotel and I’m very comfortable here so far. Around 50 bucks a night.Room is smallish, bed is comfortable, wifi works well.Seeing this put a smile on my face. I do miss my bidet days…Up on the roof is this lovely swimming pool which I’ve not used and probably won’t. In fact, I haven’t seen anyone else using it either…The rooftop also affords beautiful views of the city like this one. This is similar to the view from my room, only 2 floors down. Another shot of the Saigon skyline…My first meal in Vietnam was this chicken dish for lunch. Big bag of fries came with it. It was in this back alley cafe near my hotel where I enjoyed street side dining… And my first Vietnamese beer.
I did a quick walk around the neighborhood, then had to get ready for a meetup with some old friends from my Seoul days who live here now. I had an address and a Grab driver dropped me off at said address. But there was no bar to be seen there. So I walked over to the bar district and started asking other bar patrons where Shooters bar might be. Most didn’t know or gave me wrong directions. Finally, an American in a bar was able to give me specific detailed guidance on reaching my destination. Which took me right back to where the Grab car had left me. What the hell? About that time my friend Alex arrived.
He apologized for the confusion and pointed up to the 3rd floor. I still didn’t see it as the bar has absolutely no signage. We walked into what looked like an office lobby and took an elevator upstairs.
It’s a tiny place, even smaller than Alley Cats, my local darts venue in the PI. Very narrow, but has 4 dart boards with computerized scoring. Actually very nicely done.
I got drafted to play with Alex’s team in a league match against the top rated team in Saigon. We got our asses kicked, but I did manage to win a best of 5 singles match 3-1. So, I can add Vietnam to the countries in which I’ve played competitive darts (USA, Korea, Japan, Thailand, Cambodia, Philippines).
And it was of course really great catching up with my old mates John (on the left) and Alex.After darts I walked back to the hotel. A little drunk but not hungry enough to eat here (yet).Settled for nice bowl of chicken pho at a place near the hotel. Sorry the pic is so shitty. Maybe I was drunker than I remember.
Day 2: Took a good long walk in the city to see what I could see. Saw the Ho Chi Minh museum with some captured American tanks and planes out front and thought about having a looksee, but changed my mind thinking I’d find the actual war museum I’d heard about. I didn’t though.
There was this cool tree though…
I guess snapping that photo tagged me as a tourist because the vendors descended upon me. One guy actually started “repairing” my shoes with glue. I’m like WTF, no thanks! But he kept right on. Then he untied my shoe and that was enough, I just walked away.
A Saigon street. Those cycle and hammer banners are everywhere…A monument to some past hero I suppose. Crossing streets here is insane for a pedestrian. I read somewhere that you are suppose to just keep your stride and pace as you cross and the motorbikes and cares will avoid you. I tried that and I guess it worked, or at least I wasn’t hit. Later I crossed with some locals and I noticed that they did in fact slow down to let cars and bikes go past. Geez, it’s a mystery how anyone lives to tell the tale of crossing some of these busy highways. Heh, I guess I just did though, didn’t I?Made it to the banks of the Saigon river. I’m still considering taking one of these “water buses” while I’m here, but haven’t yet. Tomorrow I’m doing an all day tour to the Mekong river delta…Needed some liquid refreshment and spied this rooftop bar name Sai Gone. Cold beer and hot waitresses! I was the only customer for awhile…Enjoyed “Cheap Charlies” like views, although the street action featured many young Vietnamese women instead of the old men of Barretto….
Met an American couple from California enjoying their honeymoon and shared some beers with them. I’m now Facebook friends with the wife! It started raining hard about the time I was planning to leave, so what could I do? Stay for more beer of course! Hey, I’m on vacation!
It was back to Sai Gon that night where I expected to meet some Hashers. I didn’t see any. Later as one guy was leaving he saw my Hash attire and said I could join them for a run on Sunday. Meet up at the Caravelle hotel. Let’s see if I can find it.
Very drunk end to the day, but once again I successfully found my way back home to the hotel. Day 3 report will have to wait as I have plans for more explorations in the bar district tonight and need to prepare.
Bobbie McLane was the Human Resources Director, my first boss as a member of management, and a great mentor. I needed that, because I was pretty much clueless.
How clueless? This clueless: After I had applied for the safety job but before I was interviewed, there was a labor-management meeting scheduled up in Fayetteville. Bobbie came down to my work station and asked if I’d like to ride to the meeting with her. I politely declined. I mean, after all, I was the union steward; I didn’t want it to appear I was cavorting with management! A bit later, Bobbie’s secretary came to see me and asked me “John, don’t you want the safety job?” I told her of course I did. She gave me a look that said “are you really that stupid?” but the words she used were “Bobbie wanted you to ride with her so she could get to know you better and talk about the job”. Oh shit! Well, I made sure I was seated with Bobbie for lunch and a few days later it was announced that I had been selected as the Fort Smith, Arkansas Management Sectional Center (MSC) Safety Specialist.
I was actually quite surprised to have been picked because I had absolutely zero background or training in safety. I had met with Bobbie numerous times in my union capacity and she told me she picked me for the safety job because she liked the way I handled myself in those meetings. I guess that just goes to prove that sometimes it’s not what you know, but who you know. And that’s not always a bad thing.
So that first year I spent several weeks at the Postal Service training facility in Potomac, MD learning how to do my job. Most of the courses were two or three weeks in duration, which gave me a good opportunity to explore DC on weekends, a city I had never previously visited. I wound up doing quite a bit of traveling, and I came to enjoy meeting women the perks associated with traveling on the government dime. I’m just now recalling a wild time an important meeting in Chicago. And in kind of a weird turn of events, I was attending an accident investigation course in Norman, Oklahoma on the day the space shuttle Challenger exploded.
One of the nice things about working in a small MSC (consisting of around 100 post offices in Northwest Arkansas) was that I was given the opportunity to take on additional duties and fill various voids that were not staffed. For example, I was designated as the MSC Public Affairs Officer, where I answered media inquires and dealt with disgruntled customers. It was pretty cool to come home from work one day and have my kids excitedly tell me “daddy, we saw you on TV today!”.
Bobbie started having me write her grievance decisions as well and once she was satisfied that I was firmly in management’s camp I became her designee for dealing with the union. It was strange at first to be arguing over labor disputes from a management perspective, but I reasoned it was really just about interpreting the words in the collective bargaining agreement.
Labor relations work was what I liked best so I started applying for labor vacancies all over the country. I got interviewed for a job in Charleston, SC and selected for one in Columbia, SC. So I loaded up my family (had a new wife now) and made the move. I felt bad about leaving Bobbie in the lurch after all that training and only 18 months or so on the job. But as a good HR manager should be, she was happy to see me progress in my career and was glad that she had given me the opportunity to learn and grow.
Obviously, the answer to Paul McCartney’s question, posed in a song, at least in my case, is no! All the women that I have loved or who have purported to love me, disappeared from my life long before I reached the ripe old age of 64. Heh! They don’t know what they’re missing!
Anyway, it’s rather amusing to look back to those youthful days when that tune was a hit. I had no concept of what being 64 meant, other than it made you ancient. But now that I’m here, I don’t feel particularly old and/or decrepit. I’m certainly more active than I’ve been in years. This morning’s weekly stats report from Fitbit offer confirmation:
160,404 steps taken, for an average of 22.915 per day. That exceeds my 20,000 daily step goal.
I walked 123.28 kilometers last week. Not bad for an old guy!
I burned an average of 3766 calories per day, which is a good thing given the beer calories I’ve been consuming.
I’m getting 6.36 hours of sleep per night which is about right for me.
My resting heart rate averages 64 beats per minute, which is a healthy sign.
The blood pressure (assisted by meds) is consistently in the high 120s/ low 130s range, with diastolic readings at 90 or below. So, while not ideal it is far better than it used to be and good enough for an old fucker I reckon.
I could stand to lose another 10 to 15 pounds (I’m currently at 203). Damn ice cream!
Suffice to say, as much as it sucks to get old, it beats the hell out of the alternative. So I intend to keep on keeping on.
You know, I do sometimes fantasize about Japanese porn going back in time. Like say, 50 years ago. In 1969 I was entering my freshman year of high school. If I only knew then what I know today! Lots of things I’d do differently of course, but then, I’d likely make other mistakes, and no telling how that might turn out. Still, it’s kind of fun to think about the life I’d live both before and after purchasing IPO stock in Microsoft, Apple, and Google.
Maybe that’s all just a pipe dream, but I was walking down the highway the other day and I got pretty excited when I saw this:
Alas, it seems to be a case of false advertising. They weren’t selling tickets for a journey to the past after all…
So it looks like I’m stuck with the life I’ve lived. And the one that is yet to come. My body may be older than it was, but in my mind this is what I see:
Everybody’s so different, I haven’t changed. Well, I am drinking higher quality beer these days, so there’s that.
“Age has no reality except in the physical world. The essence of a human being is resistant to the passage of time. Our inner lives are eternal, which is to say that our spirits remain as youthful and vigorous as when we were in full bloom. Think of love as a state of grace, not the means to anything, but the alpha and omega. An end in itself.”
― Gabriel García Márquez, Love in the Time of Cholera
Yesterday was Hash day and it was a bit of a fiasco of my own making. After a morning full of sunshine the rains came pouring down in torrents in the hours preceding the Hash. I made the decision before I left the house that I wasn’t going to go climbing up in the mountains under these conditions. So I carried my umbrella instead of my walking stick. And wouldn’t you know it? Just a few minutes prior to departure time the rain stopped, the sky turned blue, and the sun was shining brightly. The Hares to their credit, went back out to remark the trail, and most of the kennel followed them shortly thereafter. I stuck by my decision and just walked the streets for an hour, but by all accounts it was a perfectly fine trail. I really regretted being such a wuss.
So, I get to our “On-Home” at Midnight Rambler ahead of the group and grab a menu. I rarely go to this venue other than for the Hash. They have a small restaurant run by a Brit and called the BBC. And they had a whole menu page devoted to pies:
It’s apparently their specialty! I splurged on the Cornish Pasty because I’d never had one before.This is what it looked like. Now, clearly I could see the difference in a pasty from the pies I’d experienced at other restaurants. And I could see how they had folded up the crust in a similar fashion as I’d seen Kevin Kim demonstrate on his blog. Now, mine was supposed to come with mashed potatoes instead of chips, but I was there for pasty, so what does it matter?And this was by far my best meat pie/pasty experience yet. The crust was firm without being dry, tasty without overwhelming the delicious and plentiful meat. So, Midnight Rambler/BBC is the place to go in Barretto when you have a hankering for this English delicacy. At least so far.
As I dined on my flavorful pasty, the Hashers trickled in from the trail and I felt like a heel for not having been out with them. But more beers eased that pain. And then it was time for the Hash circle.
Now, there is a Hash tradition that honors Harriers celebrating birthdays by preparing them a cake. I had hoped to avoid this recognition given that my birthday was the following day, but apparently that was close enough. And so I got my cake:
Eggs, flour, sugar, oil, and some yeast in the form of beer. All mixed together on my head. I was thankful there was no oven nearby!
And that was last night. Nothing special about today thus far. Grocery shopping, a brief walk, and I guess some sort of get together at Alley Cats later this afternoon.
Time marches on and so do I.
When I get older losing my hair Many years from now Will you still be sending me a valentine Birthday greetings, bottle of wine? If I’d been out till quarter to three Would you lock the door? Will you still need me, will you still feed me When I’m sixty four?
For some reason I thought it would be a good idea to have a little adventure with my afternoon walk yesterday. Maybe it was just to punish myself for being lazy on Saturday. Whatever the cause, I took a climb up into unfamiliar territory. It probably wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve done lately, but I did it anyway.
As I started out from Alta Vista I encountered a local standing on the path holding a machete. “Where you go?” he asked. “Just gonna climb the mountain”, I told him, nodding towards the hillside in front of me. He gave me a funny look, shrugged, and I proceeded onward. I knew whereabouts I wanted to get to and figured I’d find a trail going in that direction. But the first path I took just petered out, and the next one I took seemed to go in the wrong direction. Not being able to discern other viable options, I continued onward. The trail meandered for a ways and then commenced to turn steeply upwards. It was a slick and muddy climb and I thought to myself “glad I’m not trying to come down this way”. Made it to the top and then the trail just seemed to disappear.
This is what I was faced with. Grass over eight feet tall. Tough to walk through, leaving some scratches on my arms and legs. But worse was not being able to clearly see where I was placing my feet. At one point I noticed that if I took a step to the left I’d be falling down a very steep hillside. That freaked me out so I retreated. I wasn’t willing to go back the way I came though as that seemed to involve a similarly perilous hike down. So, I reoriented my position on the mountain and cautiously made my way forward.
It seems people don’t hike up there this time of year for a reason. I resolved that once I found a trail, any trail, I would take it wherever it went. This overland shit was a sucker’s bet. And good fortune was with me because I did come across a pretty decent path about ten minutes later.
I was able to breathe a sigh of relief and enjoy views like this…And in the other direction, a nice overlook of my hometown, Barrio Barretto.
So, through blind (almost literally) luck, I had reached the mountain top I had been wanting to achieve. Now, where would this mystery path take me next?
I know that valley well. Wasn’t real sure how to get there from here though…I continued onward (like I had a choice) and eventually things started to look familiar. And lo and behold, I found myself at this four-way intersection on the infamous My Bitch trail. I could have turned left here and been back safe and sound in Alta Vista in twenty minutes time. Ah, but where’s the fun in that? So instead I turned to the right, thinking that would lead me down to Columban College in Barretto.Although I knew I was heading generally in the right direction, I didn’t recall walking through this area of shacks previously. I always feel a little uncomfortable invading the privacy of the mountain dwellers, but I had no alternative. Didn’t actually see any people, but judging by the laundry hung out to dry, they were indeed occupied.And just a tad further up the trail I came across the “fresh” water supply of the locals.I sure was glad my name isn’t “N. Santos”. Poor bastard isn’t allowed to trespass.And then at last I found myself on the familiar steps leading back down to civilization. Such as it is…The back side of Columban College. Which is actually a private (Catholic) high school.From the relative safety of the streets of Barretto, I gandered back up to where I had been.
I came. I saw. I conquered. I walked back home.
Today I was back out marking the trail for today’s Hash with my co-Hare, Pubic Head. Basically the same trail we laid four weeks ago that got rained out. It’s plenty cloudy out there right now but I’m hoping our luck holds out this time. You can look forward to a full report on that tomorrow.
You’ll never say hello to you Until you get it on the red line overload You’ll never know what you can do Until you get it up as high as you can go
Out along the edges Always where I burn to be The further on the edge The hotter the intensity
Highway to the danger zone Gonna take you Right into the danger zone
