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
I reckon the time we spend in pursuit of the almighty dollar our working life transcends most every other chapter within our lifetime. It makes sense really given that for most of us we are selling 1/3 (or more) of every day for a paycheck.
Obviously our chosen career paths are not really a form of slavery or servitude. In fact, work is often a source of fulfillment and satisfaction that only comes from being a productive member of society. There is a sense of purpose and meaning as you resolve issues, complete projects, and contribute to the success of your organization. And of course it is good to have money to pay the bills.
Looking back from the vantage point of just over a year into my second retirement, I can honestly say that what I miss the most are the people I met along the way. The social interactions and friendships stand out much more than any of the big decisions that turned out right or any other accomplishments I might have achieved. Building relationships at work made me who I am much more than the actual work did.
And here’s the rundown of the actual work:
Before Government: I guess my first “real” job was as a paperboy for the Los Angeles Herald-Examiner when I was around 12 years old. By high school I was doing the usual bullshit work–car wash, pizza parlor cook, flagman at a motorcycle racetrack. After HS I graduated to such things as convenience store clerk, plastics fabricator, and route salesman. Then my baby girl came along and it was time to get serious. Or at least get a job with some benefits.
1976-1984–Letter Carrier, United States Postal Service (USPS)
To achieve employment with the Post Office required taking and passing the entrance examination. Your score on that test would be your place in the hiring queue. The test was offered for each individual post office, and since I was living in Orange County, California I had the opportunity to take the test several times.
I recall my first attempt was a passing effort but my score being in the low 80’s meant I was unlikely to ever be reached for hire (military veterans had 5 or 10 points added to their score). But each time I took the test my score would improve. I also developed some test taking techniques that helped. There was one long section of the test that was timed. I had difficulty completing that portion within the allotted time largely because you had to color in those answer circles completely. The testing monitor was always the same woman and I knew she took a smoke break while we completed an untimed test portion. So, instead of coloring in the circles, I just ticked them. Then while she was outside smoking I went back and colored them in correctly. Now, I don’t consider that cheating, just creative test taking. Regardless, I eventually got my score up to 95% and was subsequently hired at the Anaheim, CA post office.
I made it through my 90 day probation period and became a full fledged government employee. I actually enjoyed carrying mail and was a good and conscientious employee. My supervisor didn’t much like me though, in part because I was a smart ass. Hard to imagine, I know. One day my boss came out to do some “street supervision”. He asked me what I had left to deliver and I said just this apartment complex. He responded well, that will only take 30 minutes. I told him “maybe YOU can do it in 30 minutes, it’s gonna take me an hour”. I guess that pissed him off because when I got back to the office he issued me a letter of warning for insubordination.
And that’s how I became a shop steward with the National Association of Letter Carriers (NALC). The bogus discipline was overturned and I went on to represent other employees subjected to the arbitrary and capricious whims of management. I rather enjoyed my union work!
After my son was born in 1978 the wife and I wanted to get the hell out of Southern Cal and raise our kids in a healthier environment. And I was lucky enough to have my transfer request to Prescott, Arizona accepted. Damn, I loved living there! In due course I was elected to be President of NALC Branch #859. The good times ended with my marriage and it was time to move on. I needed help as a single father and my mom was in Oklahoma willing to provide it. So I transferred out to Fort Smith, Arkansas. I will always recall the words of my supervisor at my going away party in Prescott: “John, with this move you will achieve the rare accomplishment of raising the collective IQ of both Arizona and Arkansas!” Heh. Maybe he was right.
So, I continued on with the life of a letter carrier and shop steward n Fort Smith. They had this stupid concept of a van pool where five carriers would be driven out to their routes and dropped off. My route had the highest volume of mail so guess what, it took me longer to sort it. Which meant four other guys stood around waiting. Which made the supervisor upset. One day he came over to tell me to hurry it up and I responded “I only have two speeds, and if you don’t like this one you are going to HATE the other one. I got disciplined for that too but once again had it overturned in the grievance process.
Things were changing for me though. It was hot and humid in summer and I wasn’t used to that kind of weather. I kept waiting for winter to come but when it did I was slipping and sliding on ice all day long. But mostly the job had just become mind-numbingly boring. Some days I would carry my entire route and not even remember doing so because I had been fantasizing about a different life (one fantasy was becoming a professional gambler in Las Vegas). A woman I had met on my mail route, Iris Breed, was the director of the Fort Smith Girls Club. She encouraged me to apply for jobs in management saying I was wasting my intellectual talent carrying a mail satchel. Well, nothing ventured, nothing gained I suppose. I applied for the Safety Specialist vacancy and surprise, surprise, I was selected!
Let me close out the history of my life as a mailman with this story:
It was a cold winter’s day in December and as I walked up to the porch of a house to deliver some letters, the front door opened and an attractive woman said “oh, you look so cold! Would you like to come in for some hot chocolate? I responded “that sounds great!” and she let me inside. As she served the cocoa to me, her robe fell open and I couldn’t help but notice she was wearing a see-through negligee underneath.
Well, one thing led to another and the next thing I knew I was in the bedroom with her having some pretty wild sex. When we were finished, she reached over to the nightstand, opened the drawer, and pulled out a dollar bill. I was confused and asked her “what’s this for?”. She shrugged and told me “when I asked my husband what should we give the mailman for Christmas, he said fuck the mailman, give him a dollar!”
A nothingburger kinda day around here. Woke up feeling shitty, if you know what I mean. Also had nausea which is pretty unusual for me. In fact, I started retching but I guess there was nothing left in my stomach to expel through the throat rather than the anus. But enough about me!
Hey, wait a minute. This blog is about me, what the hell else am I going to write about? Let’s get on with it.
So, the usual Saturday night routine (hell, EVERY night). Had a few cold ones at Cheap Charlies while flirting with my Muslim bargirl friend, Maya. Then decided to change things up and try somewhere different for a change. In all the years I’ve been coming to Barretto I never made it into a bar named Wild Paradise, so I gave it a try. I was immediately besieged by several thirsty bargirls who proceeded to massage my arms and back. Another gal plopped herself down next to me and commenced to massaging my crotch (outside my shorts of course). I told them I only wanted to sit with one girl but they all continued on with their rubbing behavior. After a bit, the bartender came by and asked if I wanted to purchase lady drinks for the girls. I told her I was only going to buy one and naturally I chose Josie, that gal with the deft touch sitting next to me. I gave each of the other gals a 20 peso tip (40 cents) and they thankfully left me alone.
I chatted up Josie some but she didn’t have much of interest to say. She had a cute face but her body wasn’t in great shape for a 35 year old. Talented hands though, and she did get a rise out of me. *ahem* I finished my beer and she suggested I might enjoy a blow job. I looked around to see if there was a room for that kind of thing on premises, but she indicated we need to book a short time room. Eh, too much hassle. I told her “next time” although it is doubtful there will be one. I’m not that lonely yet anyway.
I left Wild Paradise and crossed the street to check out Double D’s, a videoke joint I sometimes frequent. There were some Filipinos inside singing badly and I wasn’t feeling it. As I turned to leave, Jhen, one of the girls that work there, popped her head out for a chat. And the first thing she asked about was the lipstick on my mouth. Oops, I’d forgotten about the goodbye kiss Josie had just given me. We had a laugh about that before I made my way on up the highway.
My next stop was one of the few girly bars I occasionally patronize, Wet Spot. Oh, for those that don’t know, the distinction between what I call a “girly bar” and the others is that girly bars have dancers on stage to entice you to purchase lady drinks and perhaps take out sex. Cheap Charlies and Wild Paradise have “GRO’s” (Guest Relations Officers) who will sit and chat and make you feel special as long as you are buying them lady drinks. In Cheap Charlies, that’s all you get–no take out. As I learned last night, obviously that’s not the case at Wild Paradise.
Which reminds me of an incident that happened at Cheap Charlies earlier this week. One of Maya’s friends was complaining about a customer who had offered to buy her a lady drink provided she let him finger her. Now, as I mentioned, CC isn’t that kind of bar. And even in those kind of bars, you don’t finger a girl in the bar. And oh by the way, to get a girl for take out is usually around 2000 to 3000 pesos ($40-$60). The commission a girl makes on a lady drink is around a dollar. So, this guy (probably an ignorant tourist) was doubly insulting.
I decided to rectify the situation by buying the offended lass a drink. And when it arrived I told her in a voice that I was hoping the asshole customer would hear “now I’m going to finger you!”. The expression on her face was priceless, and then I raised up my middle finger in the universal “fuck you” salute. She and Maya burst out laughing. Fun times!
Anyway, back at Wet Spot I bought a couple of drinks for my dancer friend Anna. I’ve mentioned her before, she has five kids that I’ve “adopted” as my charity project. Anyway, her big news was that her 17 year old daughter has managed to get herself pregnant. And so the cycle of poverty continues. Obviously mom is disappointed and so was I. I had thought if she had focused on her studies instead of boys I might consider helping fund her higher education. Oh well.
Anna’s other big news was that her 19 year old step daughter had just begun working in Rapscallion, the bar next door to Wet Spot. Well, what are you going to do? It’s a semi-honest living where you can an earn a comparatively decent salary (as opposed to working as a sales clerk at the mall for example). Anna was a little conflicted about this turn of events but really, what can she say without being a hypocrite? I teased that I was going to go Rapscallion next for some take out (yeah, I’m a barrel of laughs). But I did offer to buy the step daughter a lady drink. So Anna went and got her (the bars in “the Maze” have a reciprocal agreement, the girls get a commission on drinks regardless of where it is consumed).
So here I am sitting next to a teenage girl in hot pants and trying hard to remain gentlemanly. Actually, it wasn’t hard at all (not THAT pervert, the situation!) as I am not tempted by girls that young. Late 20’s is about as low as I will go. Still, it was past my bedtime and it was a weird circumstance sitting with mom and daughter in a girly bar. So we finished our drinks and I said my goodnights and departed.
And I actually had the good sense to go straight home and I didn’t get run over on the highway. A nice happy ending!
Today, I managed to walk my dogs before the rains started and not much else. I considered doing my afternoon walk anyway, but thought better of it given the delicate state of my stomach.
And there you have a slice of my so-called life here in the Philippines.
You keep calling me On the telephone You say you’re all alone Well that’s real sad
And you keep leavin’ Notes stuck on my door Guess you’re hungry for some more Girl that’s too bad
‘Cause I ain’t that lonely yet No I ain’t that lonely yet After what you put me through Oh, I ain’t that lonely yet
I have this friend I’ve known for around three years now. Yes, she works in a bar. She’s in her mid-30’s and has FIVE kids, ranging in age from 17 to 9. All by the same Filipino partner, or so she tells me. He’s out of the picture now, and as you might imagine, she struggles to make ends meet on a bargirls salary. She had a Swiss boyfriend who was sending her some monthly support (around $100.) but apparently he decided to end that arrangement/relationship. Hence her financial woes were exacerbated and she was in near panic mode about paying rent, buying food, and keeping her kids in school.
As fate would have it, she’s living in one of the shanty villages right outside my subdivision. I can practically see her “house” from mine. I occasionally walk through that area and will sometimes hand out candy to the kids. It’s a sad situation but I do admire her strong sense of duty as a mother.
I may have mentioned previously that I’ve not been entirely comfortable with the arrangement I made with a small orphanage in Olongapo. My domestic helper thinks I’m being scammed and that the support I provide is not going to help the children. I’m not sure if I agree with that, but I’ve seen kids out on my hikes who appear to be in far greater need than the ones in the orphanage. It’s been in my mind to find an opportunity to provide some direct help to those who need it most.
So it occurred to me that my neighbor’s situation may indeed be that opportunity. I know her well enough to know that my support will not be wasted on selfish needs, drugs or alcohol. There were only eight or nine kids at the orphanage, so providing for her five does not really diminish the overall impact of my contribution. My goal in giving has always been to “make a difference” and I think making my neighbor’s family my primary charity accomplishes that.
We’ll see how this works out. It was gratifying to see the look of relief on her face when I told her of my plan and provided my first installment of cash. One of my long range goals is to help a worthy individual attend college or vocational school. That’s how you can change a life and break the cycle of poverty. We’ll see if her eldest (a junior in high school) studies hard and warrants that opportunity.
It’s probably gauche to write about this on the blog. I’m not trying to brag and act like I’m some kind of saint or something. In fact, my motivations are pretty much in keeping with my selfish nature. By helping a few I am alleviating some of the guilt that comes with living a “rich” life whilst surrounded by poverty.
I may live in the Philippines geographically, but my lifestyle is decidedly not Filipino. I’m not bragging or complaining, it is what it is, and this result was obviously my choice. I wanted to spend my retirement years as easily and as comfortably as possible. And given that I chose to live in a third world country that meant staying separate and apart from most of the locals.
Now, my place is one of the older and smaller houses in the neighborhood, a gated subdivision called Alta Vista.And from my residence I enjoy views like this one. It is also nice to be above the flooding that inevitably accompanies rainy season here.Meanwhile, my neighbors right outside Alta Vista are living like this (or worse).
Of course, having money makes a difference and I’m comparatively rich compared to most of the locals. Which is not to say that all Filipinos in the area are living in abject poverty, far from it. There are many clean and modern looking apartments in town, that while spartan, do provide comfortable shelter. In fact, many of my fellow expats live amongst the Filipinos in these neighborhoods and gain the full flavor of life in the Philippines. Now some of that flavor is constantly crowing roosters and LOUD videoke late into the night, which is another reason why I’ve chosen to live separate and apart. I don’t think I’m better or anything like that, I just want to live a life that is as familiar and comfortable as possible. And yes, I know that means I miss out on some the unique aspects of Filipino culture.
I’m not even adventurous when it comes to local food delicacies. I can name four or five dishes that I’ve at least tried, but none of them stand out as something I crave or desire on a regular basis.
When I eat out it tends to be familiar dishes like these pork chops.And when I cook at home, it’s old favorites like baby back ribs.
Honestly, I don’t even spend a lot of time with Filipino members of the community. My hangouts are all Western oriented with almost no Filipino males around. I interact some with my driver, although his English is very poor. And of course, I enjoy spending time with the friendly Filipina bargirls I encounter.
Who tend to be very warm and welcoming. Of course, that’s their job, but still…
Anyway, those were just some reflections that occurred to me while walking. Living here and being part of the life here are two entirely different things. At this point I have no regrets about my choices and perhaps in time I’ll open myself up more to increased integration within the Filipino community.
Hmm….Well, there’s this…I do maintain a strong belief system!
So, that’s where things stand. I suppose reading between the lines you might discern that I’m not entirely satisfied with my choices, but I’m taking life here one day at a time and keeping an open mind for the next big thing that might come along. Stay tuned!
Most men and women lead lives at the worst so painful, at the best so monotonous, poor and limited that the urge to escape, the longing to transcend themselves if only for a few moments, is and has always been one of the principal appetites of the soul.” –Aldous Huxley
Interestingly (to me), I first posted the above quote on this date four years ago. And it still resonates. I’m not sure if that is an indication that I’m stuck in a rut or that Mr. Huxley’s thought is a universal truth on the meaning (meaninglessness?) of life. Anyway, I like it.
The quote was good fodder for thought as I did my morning walk. My life here is better than the life I left behind, no question about that. But there is no denying the repetitiveness of my daily routines is indeed monotonous and leaves my soul hungry for meaningfulness. Now, I don’t mean to say I’m in despair or that I’m living a life of quiet desperation. Far from it. But the recent death within my small circle here is a stark reminder that I need to get off my ass and make the best of whatever time remains for me in this life.
The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats. A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.
Henry David Thoreau
For some reason I got to thinking about some of the training sessions the government wasted money on saw fit to send me to during the course of my 35 year career in Uncle Sam’s service. Many of these would include some type of “inspirational” segment where an overpaid speaker would presumably motivate us to greatness through the power of their words.
One that I recall involved a theme of “don’t sweat the small stuff”. The speaker drew a time line on his whiteboard with annotations for birth at one end and death at the other. He said being born and dying are big things. And everything in between is the small stuff. Well, I’m not sure how valuable that insight was but I do remember it all these years later. And yeah, I do try and remind myself that in the grand scheme of things my “problems” don’t amount to much of anything. As one Filipina friend told me “I worry everyday about how I’m going to feed my kids. And you complain because some woman hurt your feelings? You are blessed.”
Another training I recall had a more practical work application. It talked about manager’s getting bogged down by striving for perfection in their own work or in that of their subordinates. You can spend hours re-working a memo written for your signature or you can accept that the memo as written serves its intended purpose. The word the instructor used for this concept was “satisfices”. At least as a government manager, I found that satisfices was nearly always good enough. These days when I consider my life I can acknowledge it is perhaps not all it could be but I can also accept that it satisfices. It could certainly be much, much worse, that’s for sure.
And then I remembered a short story by Ernest Hemingway I read way back when in a literature class in college. It was called “A Clean Well-Lighted Place” and it was a story about nothing and the nothingness of life. I just did a search and saw that back in December 2006 I was also channeling this story. Funny how that works. And damn, in October 2014 the story was speaking to me once again. This was during that period where Jee Yeun first declined to return to the USA with me. I didn’t know it then of course, but that proved to be the beginning of the end for us. Anyway, here is one analysis of Hemingway’s story:
A Clean, Well Lighted Place” is Hemingway’s paean to a type of existential nihilism, an exploration of the meaning, or lack thereof, of existence. It clearly expresses the philosophy that underlies the Hemingway canon, dwelling on themes of death, futility, meaninglessness, and depression. Through the thoughts and words of a middle-aged Spanish waiter, Hemingway encapsulates the main tenet of his existential philosophy. Life is inherently meaningless and leads inevitably to death, and the older one gets, the clearer these truths become and the less able one is to impose any kind of order on one’s existence or maintain any kind of positivity in one’s outlook.
Here’s another, which strikes me as a little more scholarly. I wonder what ever happened to the paper I wrote for course credit? Apparently it didn’t make it to the internet. Anyway, A Clean Well-Lighted Place is not exactly the story of my life. At least not yet! But I like it. If you have not read it, you can have it read to you. Takes less than ten minutes and I deem it to be time well spent!
This post really went off in a weird direction, didn’t it? Anyway, despite appearances I’m doing fine and I am optimistic I’ll be doing even finer in the days to come.
It was all nothing, and a man was nothing, too…Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it was nada y pues nada y pues nada. Our nada who art in nada nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give us this nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada. Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee…
Before I knew Greg was ill I had planned on visiting Alley Cats on Tuesday afternoon to throw darts and hand out pasalubong (souvenirs) from my trip to Korea. Greg would normally be there for the tourney as well, but of course this time his only presence was in the form of a donation box to help fund his funeral expenses. It did put a damper on my mood and I was too late to play (having made a second trip to the hospital) so I just sat and watched the competition. Well, sat and drank beer while I watched that is.
So, sitting at the table next to me was Greg’s buddy Patrick. We did our usual small talk and I couldn’t help but wonder to myself why I hadn’t seen him at the hospital. He was certainly much closer to Greg than I was. But not my business and no big deal to me. When the tourney was completed I bought all the girls working a round of drinks. I was having my own private wake for Greg in a way I thought he might appreciate. It also meant I had five gals sitting with me at my table which facilitated handing out the pasabulong (mostly trinkets like key chains and pens).
Marissa had also gone to the hospital and was actually with Irene (Greg’s girlfriend) when the doctor announced that Greg was dead. It was good that she was there to provide some comfort. Anyway, Irene apparently did her goodbyes, hugging and kissing the corpse. And in something that I assume is a Filipino thing, posing for pictures with the body. Me, I don’t even like to attend funerals. My preference is to remember the living person, not viewing the remains.
So Marissa had joined us at my table and was speaking in Tagalog with the girls. And then she started showing them pictures of the dead Greg. I didn’t want to see that so I turned my head. Patrick did see and he went nuts. Started shouting that’s sick, who does that, that’s fucked up, and he kept at for a good long time. I finally turned to him and said “I don’t like it either, but it’s a Filipino thing, so just don’t look”. Nope, he kept right on shouting and making disparaging remarks about Marissa for having the audacity to photograph Greg (at the girlfriends insistence). I’d finally had enough and told Patrick to shut the fuck up. If you don’t like Filipino ways, go somewhere else. That was enough to get him to direct his ire at me, which is fine.
Now Patrick is a useless drunk. He comes to Alley Cats everyday in the early afternoon and drinks until he can barely walk. I don’t give a shit about that, he’s just another pathetic loser in my book. I mean, the guy is probably close to my age and has a young Filipina wife and a two year old child. Again, to each his own but who knowingly fathers a child at that age? And if it was an accident, who doesn’t know better at that age? Regardless, given his lifestyle choices it is very doubtful Patrick will live long enough to see the child reach double digits in age. About all I can say on his behalf is that he did at least make sure his kid attained U.S. citizenship.
Another thing I dislike about Patrick is that he is a chickenshit coward. There’s a guy named Rudy who is in his late seventies and his girlfriend is the sister of Patrick’s wife. Now, I don’t know the story, but for whatever reason Patrick doesn’t like Rudy at all. On the occasions when Rudy is at Alley Cats for darts, Patrick taunts him and mocks him. Rudy does his best to ignore it but it is really a disgusting behavior to witness. I of course mind my own business and never say anything, but as I mentioned, it is just a chickenshit thing to do.
So, Patrick is all up in my face. I stand up and tell him “I’m not Rudy, asshole. If you want to fuck with me, bring it on! He started backing away and I’m all “come on motherfucker, let’s see how tough you really are”. About this time the girls at my table grabbed me and pulled me away. Punk ass Patrick was backing away towards the door. Finally the girls hustled me off to the other side of the bar and admonished me “you are better than him. Don’t lower yourself to his level”. I nodded and calmed myself down.
I think they were all surprised. I very rarely get that out of control upset. I can probably attribute my behavior to being a bit emotional over Greg’s death and not willing to let a lowlife like Patrick talk down to me or my friends. That and the beers I had consumed. Regardless, I sincerely doubt that he’ll make the mistake of challenging me again. The girls were right though. I am better than him and he’s not worth the trouble.
To reiterate, I too think it is fucked up to photograph the dead. I wouldn’t do it. And I might say to someone who does it “I think that’s fucked up”. But I wouldn’t go on and on about it nor would I insult that person in a personal manner. But for all his so-called outrage and offense, I can only say that Patrick didn’t care enough to visit his friend while he was actually still alive in the hospital. So fuck him.
I bought the girls another round of drinks and then I ordered us up some food (chicken wings, chicken fingers, shanghai lumpia, and of course, rice) from Sit-n-Bull’s delivery service). After we all ate till we were full I ordered a final round of drinks and my personal wake concluded without further incident.
Interestingly, this photo from one year ago popped up this morning in the Facebook memories feature:
The girl wearing the shirt is Meica who was also seated at my table last night. I just wish I had remembered those words. It would have been a perfect rejoinder to Patrick’s loud mouth. Also of interest in this photo is that the man in the background is the recently deceased Greg.
Anyway, that was yesterday. This afternoon I’m heading down to Angeles City for the night. Two Barretto bars are competing in a dance competition there and I’m going cheer for my hometown teams. Probably just as well that I get out of town for a few hours and get my head back on straight.
Peace out!
UPDATE: My oh my, I see I used the “Aftermath” title once before. On October 31, 2017. The aftermath in that post was the carnage that resulted from Loraine fucking me over. Today’s aftermath is much, much easier to deal with, that’s for sure.
It was also great to read Kevin’s supportive comment again and remembering the Hindu concept of samsara he explained. As strange as it may seem, I do believe I am making progress. Perhaps in a two steps forward, one step back kind of way, but progress regardless.
And just like that it was over. The vacation I mean. Now I’m in the purgatory that is Incheon airport killing the long hours before my flight at 9:55 p.m.
But I’m killing those hours in style. For the first time ever I’ve booked myself a room at a transit hotel.
It’s actually similar in size to some regular hotels I’ve stayed in. This one reminds me of the Spartan, but functional, Red Planet hotel.And I’ve never had a room with this kind of view, that’s for sure. $60 buks for six hours.
Had a Taco Bell lunch and I reckon I’ll kill some time with a nice nap before my 8:30 check-out time.
My last night in Seoul was reminiscent of many nights I’ve enjoyed over the years. As is my custom I started out at Shenanigans where I was joined by my nephew Justin and my friend Becky. We sat at the window and enjoyed the people watching on the street below while quaffing our brews. Later on Justin and I wandered over to Scrooge Pub so I could say a final goodbye to the owner there, a sexy Korean lass.
Had a little incident there though. Some guy (sounded Aussie) a couple of chairs down the bar from me told me not to smoke in the bar. I gave my standard response of “I’m not smoking, I’m vaping”. He said “I don’t care, it smells like shit, take it outside”. So, I’d been drinking but I managed to maintain my self control and simply responded “You don’t tell me what to do, if the owner wants me to go outside she can tell me”. He got the owner’s attention and she told him “e-cigarette is okay here”. So that was that. But I really hate assholes like that. If he had been polite about it bothering him I likely would have moved to the other side of the bar. But fuck him.
After Scrooge, we went to another bar (JJ’s) where I said some more goodbyes. And then I ended the night at the oldest bar in Itaewon, the Grand Ole Opry. The bar has been featured here at LTG several times over the years, including the story about my first visit in April 2005. It was funny re-reading that post just now, especially the comments from ex-wife #3 and one from my now deceased father.
In another example of the bar’s timelessness, last night’s waitress was the same woman who was working there when I first visited all those years ago. Back then there were lots of folks (including Koreans) who would be out on the dance floor doing some good ol’ country dancing. I was drunk and had the urge to get my two steppin’ on so I asked the waitress if she’d dance with me in exchange for a drink. She responded ok, but just one dance. And so we did and it was fun (at least for me). Afterwards I mentioned all the good times I had over the years and she surprised me with “yeah, but you were always bringing other girls to dance with”. Well, damn.
Anyway, stumbled back to the hotel shortly thereafter, slept late (for me), did a McDonald’s breakfast, read Kevin’s post about our lunch, then packed up and caught the Airport Limo out to Incheon. And here I sit reminiscing over the life I’m finally putting behind me.
It’s been quite a ride, wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
The life ahead of me includes my two loving dogs. And I’ll be home in time to make tomorrow’s Hash. I’m ready.
I reckon I’m probably above average in both categories.
Our paths may never cross again Maybe my heart will never mend But I’m glad for all the good times Cause you’ve brought me so much sunshine And love was the best it’s ever been
I wouldn’t have missed it for the world Wouldn’t have missed loving you girl You’ve made my whole life worth while, with your smile I wouldn’t trade one memory Cause you mean too much to me Even though I lost you girl I wouldn’t have missed it for the world
They say that all good things must end Loves comes and goes just like the wind You’ve got your dreams to follow But if I had the chance tomorrow You know I’d do it all again
I wouldn’t have missed it for the world Wouldn’t have missed loving you girl You’ve made my whole life worth while, with your smile I wouldn’t trade one memory Cause you mean too much to me Even though I lost you girl I wouldn’t have missed it for the world
Oh I wouldn’t trade one memory Cause you mean too much to me Even though I lost you girl I wouldn’t have missed it for the world
I wouldn’t have missed it for the world Wouldn’t have missed loving you girl You’ve made my whole life worth while, with your smile I wouldn’t trade one memory Cause you mean too much to me Even though I lost you girl I wouldn’t have missed it for the world
At a reader’s request here I am this morning in front of my former home and castle, Star Palace.
Today I left Anjeong-ri, most likely for the final time. I think I’ve made my peace with the past now and it is time to move on to whatever the future may hold.
As last days go, yesterday was a good one. Or good enough at least. A former employee of mine took off work early to spend the afternoon with me. I will admit upfront that I’ve been crushing on this woman for a long time, but as a subordinate she was strictly off limits. That’s not the case now so I was excited to see what she had in mind. I know the fantasies I concocted ran the gamut from an innocent lunch to a pornographic sexual encounter. The reality turned out to be fully clothed yet oddly satisfying.
We went to a park outside Pyeongtaek city. A very nice park actually. One I’d never heard of or seen.
It was a riverside park and featured many water-centered attractions like these un- gilded lilies.And this stony old fisherman waiting an eternity for a bite.
So we walked and we talked, we shared some laughs. And little by little we began to open up to each other about our feelings.
Be careful what you wish for…
We sat on a bench, held hands, and spoke about what was in our hearts. I told her this moment was what I had been missing the most–some genuine shared intimacy. It felt so good and right and natural. And then she said those words. “I love you…like a brother.” And you know, I’m okay with that. We do not share the same destiny but I’m glad she was a part of my life here. She will always have a special place in my heart and I will not forget how I felt as sat beside her in the park. A good reminder of what I hope to find for my own someday.
After the park we shared dinner with a couple other co-workers, hugged, and said our goodbyes.
I went back to my hotel and shortly thereafter received a message from Mi Young (the woman who had stood me up the night before) asking where I was. Seems she thought we had agreed to reschedule our date. Ah well, why not? So we met at a Mexican place she likes. I told I had just eaten, but we shared some appetizers. Mi Young has been involved in an animal rescue shelter here for the past few years. Pretty much to the exclusion of everything else, including me. I did provide some assistance in spreading the word on social media which resulted in quite a few volunteers joining the effort and providing her some much needed assistance. My tentative efforts to woo her romantically were rebuffed however. I think last night was her effort to express her regrets. Anyway, I will always admire her and hope she will find some balance in her life. She’s a good woman.
And after that I did the rounds and said my goodbyes to my barfriends at Crystal, Ariang, Hot Top, and Horse and Cow. Then I stumbled on home.
Up early to catch the train to Seoul. Met up with the nephew, Won Jun and Beckie at JJ’s bar where they were watching basketball. Then me and Justin were joined by the esteemed Kevin Kim for a Brazilian steak house lunch at Tabom Brazil.
The food was good, but not as good as the conversation. Thanks, Kev!
After lunch we said our goodbyes and I did a little pasalubong shopping. In the Philippines it is a tradition that you bring some gifts for your friends back home after traveling. Well, they are cheap ass souvenir trinkets, but I reckon they’ll do.
And now I’m just about done. One more Saturday night in Itaewon. Time to get started.
Those times I waited for you seem so long ago I wanted you far too much to ever let you go You know I never got by, “I feel it too” And I guess I never could stand to lose It’s such a pity to say Goodbye to you Goodbye to you
It’s no secret that I’ve been unhappy for most of my trip here. The real question in my mind is “why?”. As I’ve been retracing the steps I’ve taken on roads and trails when I called this town home I have endeavored to recall what I was thinking and feeling at that time. And yes, I was unhappy then for the most part as well.
Lots of time for thinking about things on walks like the one I took this morning.
When I moved to Anjeong-ri in May 2017 I expected to leave in September. My goal had been to see Eighth Army through the transition from Yongsan to Humphreys and then re-retire. After some arm twisting from my staff and 8A leadership I consented to stay on through May of 2018. I didn’t make the move down south without bringing some baggage along with me. And I acquired some more after I arrived.
Seoul is one of my favorite cities and the only place I had ever lived in Korea. Anjeong-ri is little more than a country village with a bunch of bars that cater to young soldiers. Admittedly I also had a bad attitude due in large part to a succession of failed relationships. But as I’ve been walking here this week I’ve come to realize I’ve been unfair and never really gave this town a chance. The problem it seems was not where I was, rather it was about who I was during that period of time. My mindset of “I can’t wait to get out of this burg” permeated nearly all my thoughts and prevented me from accepting things for what they are and making the best of my time here.
That attitude poisoned any chance of my being happy during that time. I didn’t pursue relationships because I thought I had my future secured with Loraine at my side. When she proved to be unworthy of my love and trust I was so devastated as to be blinded to other opportunities that presented themselves. Eva was one of those. I had lunch with Donna, my former Deputy, the other day and she asked about Eva. When I told her we had basically parted ways she chided me for being so foolish. Donna said when she say us together she could tell how much Eva cared for me and how our interactions appeared so natural and loving. Hmm. Anyway, after that conversation I did send Eva a message apologizing for treating her unkindly. She responded with graciousness and relayed the happy news that she had finally found the true love she had been searching for. I of course wished them well.
I see things a little differently now I suppose. Certainly nothing wrong with Anjeong-ri. It has its charm and its own kind of beauty. In fact, in many ways it is not unlike my new hometown of Barrio Barretto. Well, the foreigners living there are all as old as dirt of course, but the small town friendliness is the same. I’ve honestly been surprised that so many people I interacted with in the past still remember me and seem genuinely happy to see me. And it’s not just the bargirls, thank you very much. For example, today I got a haircut and the barber nearly dropped her scissors she was so surprised to see me. Welcomed me back, asked about life in the Philippines, and just made me feel warm with kindness. I laughed when she mentioned how much happier I look now compared to when she last saw me. And oh yeah, almost everyone comments on my brownness and how much weight I’ve lost.
The sign on my barber shop. I must be ugly.
Tonight I have a dinner “date” with Mi Young, the woman who first got me involved in animal rescue with the shelter she’s devoted her life to here. My support was financial, not the sweat and toil she puts into it. Anyway, the “date” is in quotes because after the Loraine fiasco I tried to pursue elevating our friendship to the next level. That turned out to be a bridge too far. I suppose because by then I was such a short timer here it made no sense to her to get involved with the likes of me. Plus I’m 20-some years older than her. Anyway, she contacted me and suggested dinner and I readily accepted the offer so we shall see.
Tomorrow afternoon I’m meeting up with one of my former employees. It was her idea and is probably innocent. But truthfully I always had a crush on her and obviously as the boss I could never act on it. Now, no such restrictions apply! Again, I’m probably getting carried away with my fantasies, but even if I only get to eat some Korean that’s good enough. Er, I mean, Korean food of course!
Yesterday I met a new girl working in The Wall bar. Just arrived from the Philippines two weeks ago. From Manila. Unusually smart and articulate. How do I know she’s smart? Well, when I was showing her photos of my dogs (she’s a dog lover too) on the blog she asked “is that your website? Will you give me the URL so I can read it? Shit, maybe she’s reading this post! Oh well. Anyway, she’s also a musician and she came to Korea to work for one year so she can send her teenage daughter to a better school. Well, I only talked to her for an hour or so, but still I was thinking if she had arrived while I was here she might have been a game changer. Sometimes it’s all about timing I suppose. But we are hooked up on Facebook now and if she does remain single and does in fact return to the the PI (two BIG ifs) it could possibly be, well, it could be something. Perhaps. Time is a bitch though.
Alright, that’s probably enough. My point is that I’ve come to realize it’s all about attitude and making the best of things as they are, not as how you wish them to be. And writing that makes it all seem so obvious but I had to walk a helluva lot of steps to figure that out. Now I can focus on remembering this new perspective.
Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about!
Let me close out this post with some photos:
Everyone at my old office was really excited that a Texas Roadhouse had opened on base. So I took them to lunch there. Everyone seemed to enjoy the meal. I know I did…
You know, I just recalled writing a post in February 2018 called “Sorrow Floats” Give it a read to get a real time feel of just how much I didn’t like living in Anjeong-ri. In that post I talked about three new businesses that had recently opened and I predicted their imminent demise.
One of those was Pippi Burger and it has indeed now closed. I’m happy to report that I was wrong about the other two mentioned in that post. They are open anyway. Can’t say I’ve seen many customers in them this trip though.
Oh, and that tall building in the background is where I am staying this trip. It’s called Hotel Joy (haha) and was brand new when I left last year. Fully booked this week, so good for them!And finally, Facebook reminds me that it was three years ago today that I shaved off my mustache. Thought you’d want to know.
Okay, I am feeling better about things. Also, I am very much looking forward to going back home on Sunday. My dogs miss me!
