Yesterday my walking group tackled the mountain Scott and I had missed on Monday’s aborted Hash. It proved to be a challenging hike, with two moderately difficult ups and one very steep descent. It took nearly two hours to do a 4K trail on the mountain which gives some indication of the tough terrain. Or maybe I was just slower than normal. One of those.
So the Hare, I’m A Fucking Cupcake, got quite a bit of negative feedback for his efforts in setting this trail. In my opinion, most of it was unfair. Given that so many people had gotten lost on the mountain I assumed it was because the trail had been poorly marked. That proved not to be the case. The problem was likely with the method he used to mark the trail. Most Hares use powder and chalk. Cupcake did most of his marks like this:
Pieces of orange yarn tied to the trees and shrubs. The problem for many Hashers is they customarily look down at the ground for trail markings and so unless they looked up they would miss the mark.
Yes, there were some places where the markings were ambiguous and it would have been better to use more powder and chalk along the way, but I didn’t have any real difficulty following the trail. Some of the guys said that’s because I move so fucking slow I have more time to see shit. Maybe so.
Now, Cupcake does warrant some legitimate criticism. For one thing, the purported 9K trail was closer to 11K. I was so happy I didn’t attempt to walk the entire trail on Monday. Especially with the hard climbing coming during the last portion of the hike. The other complaint I had was with there being two confusing checkpoints on the trail. I’m not a fan of these anyway, but if a Hare is going to insist on using them, it needs to be done right.
This is the second checkpoint. As you can see from the arrows, it shows three possible directions. The Hashers have to explore each trail and if they don’t find any marks, turn around and go to the next trail. I hate that, especially because I’m already last on the trail and don’t like to waste time with such bullshit.
Dan (Bum Burgler) is pictured above and it was at this checkpoint that he and several others wound up taking the wrong trail. Why would an experienced Hasher not notice there were no marks and turn around? Well, because there were marks–from a trail used a few weeks previously. At a minimum, the Hare should have made sure there was only one trail marked. What I’m going to suggest for the future is that Hares use the “false trail” mark (three horizontal lines) within 50 yards or so for all options other than the true trail. Or just don’t do the fucking checkpoint at all.
Anyway, other than that it was quite enjoyable. Props to Cupcake for finding new paths. Even Scott, who has been Hashing here for 15 years, hadn’t seen parts of where we hiked previously. That’s quite the accomplishment. Being a Hare is can be a thankless job, it takes a lot of time and effort to lay the trail, and it is impossible to please everyone. I’ll be Hareing again along with Scott and Jim on February 1st and I’m already thinking about how to pull off a good experience for the Hashers.
Here are the photos from yesterday’s adventure (credit to Scott for most of these):
Closing the loop as it was intended by the Hare.We took a jeepney to the far side of Subic town to begin our trek.My fellow hikers on the journey were Jim, Scott, and Dan.Let’s roll!We walked about 1.5K to reach the spot where the trail we had missed began its climb up the mountain.No, this is not hard. Much.In the shadow of Easter mountain. Well, not really. But I can see it from here.It seems I’m always in slow motion…So, about the point where I’m feeling sorry for myself, this guy comes along dragging a bunch of 12-foot long bamboo poles behind him. Nothing like a little perspective on what is truly hard…We let him pass by and caught up with him a little further down the trail. Hard and honest work being a bamboo harvester. His little girl was there to keep him company.And of course, she got some cookies.A bit later we came down into a small village…Where more cookies were dispensed…Life can be hard.And so was our trail, right Scott?Keep on keepin’ on!We did see some chalk along the way…I got this!Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…As seen from the top of the mountain…Time to head on down……and down…We got this, Scott!Back to civilization.They got the last of the cookies…Alright, that’s enough monkeying around…
Took a jeepney back to Barretto and got dropped off at Cheap Charlies for some lunch and beers. And lo and behold, guess who was sitting outside:
The homeless old woman I call mama. I try to give her 100 pesos a day but sometimes she is hard to find. So this was a nice surprise.
And that was my day. A third place in the darts tourney last night and a singles league match on tap for this afternoon. What a life, huh?
I just canceled my Amazon Prime membership. Just like they canceled Parler.
I admit that may appear to be me engaging in virtue-signaling, but I’m powerless to do much else about it. It generated the usual pushback from my leftie friends which I expected and ignored. But there was one comment that really made me go “wow!” This is a person I’ve known for years and I consider her to be a good friend. She’s also a liberal, but back when we worked together (she was my Deputy) we would engage in long and thoughtful political discourse about the issues of the day, rarely agreeing, but at least gaining some insights and understanding. Oh, did I mention she is African-American? Not that that should matter, but this comment left me shaking my head:
Whatever! Wypipo are a trip!
You know, I’m a lot of things but one of them isn’t racist. I grew up in those long-ago days when we were taught to judge a person by the content of their character and not the color of their skin. The woman who made that comment certainly knows I’ve never acted in a racist manner. Trust me, I could not have had a successful career with the Federal government otherwise and I certainly never had a complaint filed against me. Well, except for that comment I made here at LTG about Muhammed being a pedophile. And the lawyers said I was free to express my opinion as a citizen, however “churlish”, as long as I didn’t do it at work.
Anyway, I looked up the definition of wypipo just to make sure I wasn’t misunderstanding her intent:
Wypipo is an abbreviation for “White people” that is typically used as a derogatory term to refer to racist white people. It is often used by people of color (POC) or woke white people aware of racist actions by other white people.
Ouch. Well, I didn’t respond. My simple test is to change the color to determine if what someone says is racist. So, if I were to say for example that all black people “are a trip”, I could and should be called out on it. But it is good to know what people really think of you when they slip up and let the truth out. Still shocking and painful though.
And whether I agree with you or not, I will support and defend your right to say it. Even on Facebook!
Speaking about white people, one of them has apparently purchased the property right outside the front gate to Alta Vista. It used to contain a squatter village. Now the shacks have been torn down and a barbed-wire fence erected.
The first thing he tore down was the basketball court. I saw kids playing there every day since moving here. No idea where they are now or what they are doing.
I guess I’m of two minds on this. A property owner certainly has the right to sell his land. And the buyer is free to use that land in any legal fashion. The squatters really have no “rights” in this situation. Still, I feel bad to see their already difficult lives disrupted in this fashion. A Filipina friend told me that often times in this situation the squatters are paid to leave, thus giving them the money to build a hovel somewhere else. That might be the best possible outcome I suppose. But I wouldn’t want to be that white guy building his fancy new house on this land surrounded by angry people he’s displaced. But perhaps that’s just me.
Last night I enjoyed a pulled pork barbeque dinner from the crockpot for the first time in a long time. And it was good. I made up a batch of cornbread too. Put a can of whole kernel corn into the mix. Pretty tasty!
Not bad for a white guy, huh?
Today I climbed the mountain I missed on Monday. I’ll give a full report on that adventure tomorrow. Now it’s time for darts.
Facebook reminded me that three years ago I climbed a mountain in Asan, South Korea. Don’t remember the name of the mountain now though. Haven’t seen snow like that in a long time!
We all gotta die of something I suppose, but until I read this I hadn’t considered dying of HPV as a possibility:
Having more than 10 oral sex over a lifetime partners quadruples a person’s risk for human papillomavirus-related mouth and throat cancer, a study published Monday by the journal Cancer found.
Shit, I might have ten a year! I may be doomed, but what a way to go!
Yesterday’s Hash didn’t quite go the way I planned. For one thing, I spilled a little blood on trail. I get scratches pretty frequently and once I got stitches after a run-in with barbed wire. But this time I managed to get a rather painful scrape on my elbow. Nothing like keeping things fresh and new, right?
It hurt worse than it looks. Or maybe I’m just a pussy. It has been interesting to discover just how many things there are to bump your elbow against during the day.
Another thing that happened was that despite my best intentions, I did not complete the 9-kilometer trail as planned. The way it was set up was that the Hashmobile would drop you at the start of the 6K trail, or you could walk the 3K to that point for a longer hike. Well, I hate riding in the truck enough that it made the additional distance palatable. So, off we went.
My group included the usual suspects–oldsters, Hash virgins, and folks who just prefer a pleasant hiking experience. And on flat ground, I can do a 9K without much problem. I was aware that there were two climbs between the start and the On-Home but I figured I could always bypass them if I wasn’t feeling like doing a hill when I got there.
So we are On-On!
Right after we had begun the trail the Hare, I’m A Fucking Cupcake, caught up to us to ask if we realized we were doing the long trail. We assured him that this was our intention. He appeared genuinely surprised, then shrugged and wished us well. We continued on and then maybe ten minutes into the hike along the riverside we hit a wall. Literally.
The wall of which I speak.The problem came here. We had to scurry down a five-foot or so embankment then scramble up the other side. I couldn’t get a good footing for the up part and don’t possess the upper body strength to pull myself to the top. I eventually lost my grip and slid down backward scraping my elbow in the process.
After that incident though, the trail was actually quite enjoyable. I was familiar with the area, in fact, I had been in the vicinity for my Sunday stroll, but had never walked these particular paths before. I really enjoy the seeing something new aspect of Hashing.
At around 4K there was a water stop. The Hare and the truck were there and cold water was provided. That was a nice touch. We were given the opportunity to ride back to the On-Home from there, but everyone (including the virgins who appeared tired) opted to continue on. And that’s just what we did. Until we didn’t.
We were on the trail another kilometer or so from the water stop when once again the Hare appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He seemed a little concerned for our well-being and suggested we make a turn further on up the trail and then meet the truck on the highway. I figured we could see how we felt once we reached that point and then decide what to do. Maybe the virgins would be ready to ride by then at least.
Apparently, there was some misunderstanding because we made the turn, hit the pavement, but there was no truck in sight. So nothing to do but continue on up the road. And then a couple of kilometers later we spotted the truck parked up ahead.
There you are! Well, not quite. The Hare had gone out looking for us. Turns out we weren’t supposed to turn when and where we did. Oh well.
I walked on up the trail where the Hare had gone for a way but saw no sign of him. My Fitbit advised me that I had reached my daily step count goal of 20,000 so I shrugged and headed back for the truck. Which while in the process of turning around had stalled and wouldn’t restart. Luckily we were able to push it to the downhill part of the road where the driver, Cunt Hunter, was able to do a clutch start. So we all loaded up in the back and went to pick up the Hare who had ended his search for us further up the highway.
And then we drove back to the On-Home which was the long and uncomfortable ride I had hoped to avoid to begin with. Ah well, the best-laid plans and all that. Anyway, Pubic Head and I plan to take the Wednesday walking group to the portion of the trail we missed yesterday and give it a try.
Here are some more photos from the day:
To be continued tomorrow! We did maybe 3/4 of it…That’s me waiting to get started.Some of the others milling about our meet-up location.Onward we march!I’m A Flaming Asshole and I Suck Dick. (not me, that’s their Hash names).Here’s a twofer…my ass and Easter mountain in the same shot. You are welcome!Crossing the river the easy way…Left to right: our two virgins, Black And Dick Her, and Western Union Sperm Bank.Living in the middle of nowhere illustrated.It was a mostly enjoyable, albeit abbreviated, hike.What are you looking at?A babe in the woods…Shootin’ the shit with Pubic Head at the On-Home.Cum On My Boat did the mountain trail and got an injury…Initiating our virgins. I wonder if they’ll be back? My money’s on no. When the Hash circle was completed and the beer ran out, I headed to Mangos for a dinner of roast chicken and coleslaw.And so ends another Hash post…
If you see anything here other than a lamp all I can say is: I like the way you think!
And as long as your dirty mind is thinking of muffins, how about these sweet things:
Blueberry muffins for breakfast with leftover baby back ribs from dinner last night.
I was sticking it pretty well yesterday during my singles league dart match.
Mark is actually a solid player and the games themselves were much closer than the scoresheet might seem to indicate.
And here is how things stand after Week 8 in the Barretto Singles League:
Yeah, it feels like I’m starting to recapture some of the magic of those glory days in Itaewon…In fact, I wore my Seoul Singles League shirt during yesterday’s match hoping to play like I used to. Not there yet, but getting closer.
It was kinda funny, John Kim the owner of The Pub restaurant here, saw this photo on my Facebook page and commented: “Sea elephant? Seriously?”. I explained that back in those days my darts nickname was The Walrus. According to the Koreans I consulted, there is no word for Walrus in Korean, they just use bada kokkili . It’s all good.
After darts, I had a couple more beers at Mangos and enjoyed the sunset:
Lots of folks hanging out on the beach. Little by little, we are getting our lives back.
While I was at Mangos I got a message that my office chair was being delivered but no one was at home to receive it. She attached this picture which made me smile:
Lucky defending the house. Looks like he means business!
I was a little pissed because I had asked my helper if she would be home to accept delivery and pay for the chair and she assured me she would be there. She told me later she stuck around until 6:00 and then figured they weren’t coming. Anyway, I told the seller to just leave the chair on my porch and to swing by Mangos to pick up the payment. She agreed and I added a tip for her trouble.
So here’s my new chair. Ain’t she a beaut?
It’s actually a “gaming” chair if that makes a difference. Well, it does have two speakers alongside the headrest if you want sounds effects blasting in your ears. I don’t. Anyway, it is much more comfortable than what I had been using and should provide better back support.
My back is pretty much back to normal now. A little stiff but almost completely pain-free. I guess since I’m technically elderly now I should be especially thankful for that. I’m also very happy that I’m able to get out and hike every day. That fills my hours in a healthy way.
Speaking of hiking, I need to get ready for today’s Hash. This is the last week of the noon start time, we’ll move it to 2:30 after that. There’s an odd combination of trails today, 3, 6, and 9K. If I’m understanding correctly, the 9K is a combination of the 3 and 6K trails. The 3 and 6K require a truck ride, so as of now my intention is to do the 9K. I hate that truck!
I’m not afraid of love. Just like I’m not afraid of poison. I avoid both, because love is poison to me.
As I keep reminding myself. Actually, I’m doing better at embracing my loveless life. Some of the guys who are in relationships have even expressed some envy for my relatively drama-free life.
This is about as real as it gets around here I suppose. But I think sometimes it’s all a matter of perspective. On my morning walk today I passed by an old woman rocking on her porch. That was probably the best part of her day. It made me realize my life is maybe not as boring as I make it out to be. Later in my walk, I saw a foreigner out in front of his local-style hovel. He was also on crutches and when I looked closer I saw that he’d had a leg amputated at the knee. So here he is living a poor life amongst poor people and doing it with a significant handicap. Damn. Next time I complain about my lot in life will someone please slap me upside the head? Thanks!
I was back at Alley Cats last night for the darts tourney. One of the new girls there, Jez I think her name is, has taken an interest in the game. I’ve noticed when she is not busy with customers she practices throwing. And during the tourneys, I’ve seen her watching the games intently appearing to want to learn how to improve. So last night I paid her entry fee so she could participate in the tournament. The best way to get better is to play in a competitive environment. And in the category of no good deed goes unpunished, I drew her as a partner. Well, I don’t mean that in a serious way. Sometimes you get a skilled partner, sometimes you get someone inexperienced. I think the better players owe it to the beginners to be patient and helpful. So, I did my best to provide some coaching along the way. It was no surprise we didn’t make it to the money round, but we did win a couple of matches. Jez had some good throws but needs to work on consistency. Don’t we all.
I’ve got a singles league match scheduled this afternoon and hopefully, I’ll play well enough to win. I will report on that tomorrow.
And then there is Mary. I thought I’d rid myself of her “with a bang”. Well, Thursday she shows up at my house unannounced. That pissed me off and I told her how rude and unacceptable I found her behavior. I asked why she wasn’t in Manila and she told me she was leaving Friday and “wanted to see me” before she left. I wished her good luck and sent her away. Then yesterday she sends me a message saying she wants to see me. I’m like WTF? She’s supposed to be in Manila. I responded, “Sorry, I’m busy”. And then this morning my phone is blowing up with messages and calls. I never answer her calls, but the messages said “help me, I’m hungry”. According to Mary, she is in Manila now but someone stole all her money while she was riding in the Jeepney. She begged and pleaded with me to help her.
Well, I wasn’t born yesterday and this sure did smell like a scam. I told her to send me a picture from Manila. She sent something that was inside some type of non-descript shop. I said that’s not Manila. Then she sent a photo of people standing on the street. Except it looked posed and taken professionally. Well, I’m a soft touch I guess. I sent her $25 via Western Union and told her to never contact me again.
And oh, I had to have the name on her ID to wire her money. She’s not Mary. She’s not Mae (a Facebook name she used in the past with me). She’s not Baliwag Kamo, the name she is using on Facebook now. Turns out her real name is Ruhama Alcober. Anyway, once she picked up the money she deleted all of her begging messages. So yeah, I’m totally convinced now that she is just another lying scammer. I’ve blocked her on Facebook and Messenger now. Good riddance!
Alright, let’s move on to something more pleasant, shall we? About that morning stroll today, I did the every 1000 step photo thing again. So here you go:
1000 steps. National highway entering Subic…2000 steps. A squatter village.3000 steps. Where there is smoke there is fire.4000 steps. Poor village, rich views.5000 steps. GOVIC highway.6000 steps. Easter mountain looms large.7000 steps. The straight and narrow.8000 steps. It really gets my goat when there is nothing interesting to photograph at the appointed step count.9000 steps. The wide-open spaces beckon.10,000 steps. Swallowed by the tall grass…11,000 steps. The outskirts of civilization.12,000 steps. The final climb begins.13,000 steps. An Alta Vista view.And then home again. I have a new office chair being delivered today.One of the Facebook commenters said I looked like Tom Selleck in the selfie posted above. I told him not anymore but I used to hear that all the time. That’s me at 25 years old.
And finally, via Facebook memories, I’m reminded that I was also doing important shit three years ago.
If meeting with the Secretary of the Army is important. Honestly, I enjoyed today’s walk more.
And the road goes ever onward until the ultimate dead end. Hopefully, I will still be around tomorrow!
When I have ceased to break my wings Against the faultiness of things, And learned that compromises wait Behind each hardly opened gate, When I have looked Life in the eyes, Grown calm and very coldly wise, Life will have given me the Truth, And taken in exchange–my youth. –Sara Teasdale
Greetings faithful readers! Sorry for not posting yesterday, but the time just got away from me. Here’s a recap:
As usual, I was up before 5 a.m. That’s when I do my daily slog through my blogroll catching up on the news and views from voices I trust. This has gotten to be quite the chore of late because the news from my homeland is depressingly bad. It made me sick that the voters chose a senile old fool over a competent yet clownish incumbent. That the election was apparently rife with fraud is downright scary and demonstrates that the swamp creatures have no intention of letting the people have their say. So much for democracy. The icing on the shit cake was the Georgia Senate results. Just thinking about the adverse impact Dem control of Congress and the Presidency will have on our nation’s future is the stuff of nightmares. Bottom line–we are screwed. I’m thankful that I’m so far away and don’t have to experience this fiasco up close and personal. I do expect a wrecked economy will cause the dollar to lose exchange value making me a poorer man. I probably won’t live long enough to experience the worst of what is in store for my homeland.
But life, such as it is, goes on. Did my morning routines, fed and walked the dogs, then met up with my Friday walking group. We did a pleasant mostly urban and flat 8K hike. Finished at my house where I treated the guys to a lunch of beers, chicken nuggets, calamari rings, with chips and dip.
When we were done with that I barely had time for a shower before heading out to Queen Victoria for a Hash mismanagement meeting. The agenda included appointing folks to positions of responsibility. Demolition Derby was unanimously chosen to continue serving as Grand Master. I was selected to be the Circle Jerk Master. That’s basically a Sergeant-at-Arms type role, mainly helping to maintain order in the Hash circle by telling people to shut up and pay attention. Seems like my being an asshole made me qualified for the job.
There’s been a bit of controversy at the Hash from a few disgruntled members not satisfied with the way things are being run. Boo fucking hoo is my attitude towards these whiners who were still hiding in their basement afraid of COVID while the rest of us worked to resurrect the Hash under difficult circumstances. So I don’t give a shit if they don’t like the decisions we made to make that happen. We raised the entry prices and now the Gash (females) pay the same amount as men. Well, so what? Most of them drink as much as the men do too. We also changed the start time because of an early curfew. The disgruntled few wanted a return to the traditional 3:30 start. I was opposed to this because I think the earlier start works better. It’s no fun to still be up on the mountain when the sun is starting to set. Anyway, we voted to implement a compromise start time of 2:30 p.m. We’ll see how that works out.
Had a few beers during the meeting, then moved over to Alley Cats to play in the dart tournament. Of course, I was early so I had some more beer while waiting to play. And then of course I drank while playing (I call it aiming fluid). It was a good tourney and I was satisfied with my play overall even though my partner and I lost a tough match in the finals and settled for second place.
Needless to say, I was feeling no pain when I got back home last night. But today is a brand new start, right? Stopped at a hotel called Papagayo for breakfast. I was last there years ago for a dinner so wasn’t sure what to expect. I thought the menu was a little limited in offerings, but the service was good. And nice views from my table as well.
My view during breakfast…A view of my breakfast. Well, what’s left of it.
Here are the photos from yesterday’s hike. These are mostly from Scott:
One climb, mostly steps. A loop around Black Rock mountain and ending up in Alta Vista.My fellow hikers for the morning, Dan, Troy, and Scott.Up we go!As usual, Troy is waiting for us oldsters to catch up.Working on it…I hope daddy shared those cookies with the kids…Getting back to my roots…Coming to Jesus who was hanging around…We decided to cross this field…looks easy enough…And there was kinda sorta a path. Until there wasn’t. And then it got wet.Our shoes all came out looking like this…This kind woman graciously helped us rinse the mud off……couldn’t get her little girl to smile though. I guess she was expecting Oreo’s…Back on solid ground with cleaner feet…I don’t want to romanticize litter, but this seemed kind of sweet to me…The best view of the day.
All right, I do try and avoid politics on social media. Nothing to be gained from it. But I couldn’t help sharing this meme pointing out the hypocrisy of the left regarding “protests”:
And of course, it caused liberal heads to explode.
Here’s an example from ex-wife #3:
You don’t know the difference between protests and insurrection? Well the former seeks change(s) in the law. The latter seeks to change the government.
To which I responded:
Yes, I know the difference. Do you know the difference between protests and riots? Do you know the meaning of the word hypocrisy? Where was your outrage when the Federal courthouse in Portland was being attacked? Where were your posts decrying the violence and destruction in Minneapolis, Seattle, and other cities last year? Make no mistake, I am equally disgusted by what happened at the Capitol this week. Once you engage in violent criminal activities in support of your cause, whatever that cause may be, you are no longer a protester. Rioters on the left or right are no different and are unworthy of support or sympathy if we are to remain a nation of laws. This post merely pointed out that people like you encouraged the rioters through silence and now are suddenly appalled by the same tactics being used by people you don’t agree with. Disgusting.
And of course, the ex immediately saw how wrong she had been and is now a committed Republican. Well, actually she doubled down, proving my point that these arguments or not going to ever lead to a meeting of the minds. Another commenter did chime in with this in response to the whole “insurrection” argument:
The right to overthrow the government is a right of the people. As of late, some people may feel that it is a course that needs to be taken. A fair bit of the population feels disenfranchised.
Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, –That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. -Declaration of Independence, July 4th 1776
Hard to argue with that, so I’ll just leave it there.
Let’s cleanse the palate with this:
It snot bad. I need to order one!
Alright, one more for the road:
Best I stay single, for a lot of reasons…
More darts on tap for tonight. I’m starting to feel at least some of my game is coming back. I wore my old Columbia Singles League jersey for my Barretto Singles League match this week and came away with a 12-4 victory.
Reliving the good old days. Such as they were.
Okay, this post may not be twice as good as usual, but it is twice as long. Hope that makes up for yesterday’s absence.
I’ll be back with more of something or other tomorrow.
UPDATE: I was surprised to see I used the “Mourning in America” title once before, back in September 2010. That post consisted of a link to this one-minute long anti-Obama commercial. I said back then that it made me almost dread my decision to move back to the USA. Well, maybe we’ll get through this too.
A challenging hike yesterday was made all the more difficult when we missed the intended trail, but it all worked out in the end. You might say we were blessed to find our way through a hellish landscape and received our reward of heavenly views from above. Or maybe that is so convoluted and strained that only I would say it. I’ll shut up and let the pictures talk, how’s that?
The way we went. Actually, the starting point was at the Ocean View resort in Kalaklan and I walked there adding another 3K to my hike.Although I had been up on this mountain before, the ascent we chose was new to me.Could this be the proverbial stairway to heaven?Sweet mother of Jesus, who is that? Oh, wait, sorry Mary. I guess I just answered my own question.Jesus Christo! What are you doing here?No one volunteers to be crucified though.
This was also a dead end. We went in search of our intended path, found a likely contender, and then we struggled and suffered for our arrogance. It was steep and rugged and the footing was poor. A bad combination. A couple of falls but no injuries. Praise the Lord!
Fighting to keep your feet is not conducive to photography, but there were several spots where a helping hand saved the day.Hallelujah! I made it to the top!The survivors.There are worse places than Olongapo, but that doesn’t stop me from looking down on it.As seen by the angels.Time to make our way down. And we didn’t lose the trail either…Heading for the blue waters of Subic Bay.And handing out cookies along the way.And keeping with our theme of righteousness, that would be Easter mountain rising up in the distance.If you say so, Gina…And that concludes this religious post.
At least, that’s what it felt like. Bending over to pick up my shorts yesterday morning and felt this sharp pain in my lower back. Not sure what I did or what I injured, but damn, it periodically hurts like a motherfucker. Never experienced anything quite like it. I’m stiff when I first stand up, but after I walk a bit I’m practically pain-free. That’s a good thing. But last night when I was trying to sleep I’d suffer immense pain whenever I rolled over to the left. Same stabbing pain when I tried to get up to pee. It seems marginally better today so I’m hoping whatever this is is running its course. We’ll see.
Changed things up a bit yesterday and started my evening out on Baloy beach. Visited my old-time favorite Treasure Island first. I was disappointed that they didn’t have my preferred beer and frankly the service was sloppy and unfriendly. I decided to eat elsewhere. I also noticed that all my old favorites on staff are now gone. Oh well. I went next door to Da Kudos instead.
Da Kudos is owned by Mango’s and I actually knew my waitress. The menu was also the same as Mango’s, so I ordered up the roast chicken salad. It didn’t disappoint. And neither did the view from my table:
Not bad, eh?
After my meal, I walked out on the beach and this is what I saw:
I may be living a lonely life, but at least I’m living it in paradise.
I guess I got to thinking about that being alone thing. And after a few beers I posted this question on Facebook:
Am I an asshole?
That’s probably not the kind of question that is best posed on social media. But I was just curious why a guy like me found himself dining and drinking alone. Maybe I am an asshole or something similar that people prefer to avoid. The responses to my question came in about 50-50, so maybe there’s hope. I did have to laugh at this response from ex-wife #3:
Well you use to revel in your self-identification as an dick. You were delighted when the Team America movie made an argument for dicks, saying pussies needed them for protection against assholes. So no you are not an asshole. You’re a dick.
Heh. Here’s the clip she was referring to:
Damn, that being drunk in the bar fits too!
My pal Jeremy offered up probably the most thoughtful and heartfelt comment:
John, if you’re not making your intentions known, then all that people are going to see is that youre just the nice old guy. How will anyone expect that you’re looking for something more if you’re not telling them that you’re looking for something more?
Also, dont be the nice, generous guy to everyone. That should be reserved for the people that have a special place in your heart. The rest of the people should be content with friendly, easygoing John. Then, people will take notice of your intentions, and only when that happens will there be the possibility of reciprocation.
Though, before any of that happens, you have to decide if you’re going to buy a ticket. Sure, you’re going to have a lot of losing tickets, but when you hit the jackpot, it’ll all have been worth it. I mean, that’s what my Dad tells me about he lottery, anyway, but I dont think those are his views on love after fifty years of marriage, especially when considering my mom.
You’re a smart guy, John. Not only do you have to periodically examine yourself, but you must always examine the company that you keep. I hope that it works out the way that you want according to whichever way you decide.
Hmm, I’ve heard that advice about changing the company I keep somewhere before. That’s probably the bottom line; if I am indeed an asshole I need to find an asshole-lover to share my life. And until I do I’m better off alone, whether I like it or not.
Anyway, I’ll be alright. It’s my nature to never be satisfied with what I have until it’s gone. Might be time to just suck it up and embrace things as they are and stop lamenting my missed opportunities. Scary that a man my age is still trying to figure that out.
As long as we are peripherally talking about my indiscretions on Facebook, this might be pertinent:
That cracked me up.
And as a victim of the Facebook “fact-check” process, I liked this one too:
Ain’t it the truth?
Ah well, enough of this nonsense. I’m going to head out for another night of drinking alone. Hey, it’s what I do!
Well, turns out I made the right call in deciding NOT to do the Hare’s trail at yesterday’s Hash. My group did a hike of similar length but reached our On-Home destination almost an hour earlier than most and a couple of hours before the last of the Hashers arrived. There seemed to be a consensus that both the climb and the downhill were extreme. Granted, some folks like that kind of challenge. I am not among them.
During the after-party at BarCelona, Guenter chided me for not having attempted his trail. I shrugged it off saying I’m a free man and I go where I please. Another Hasher who did the trail chimed in and said it was not an appropriate trail for someone as notoriously slow as I am. Thanks, I think.
The yellow line is the trail as set by the Hares. The green line is the faux trail my group did. Our trails did join together for the last half kilometer though. You can probably discern the difference in our climbs, both in elevation and duration, from this photo.My group left from Alta Vista…On-On!And onward.Are you ready for this climb?Let’s do it!Our climb was easier but still plenty challenging…Well, lookee here, we’ve found the trail laid by the Hares…Good job, Hashers! Our On-Home was at Derelick’s house on Rizal Extension. He’s in poor health and wasn’t able to join us. I went inside and said hello and he really didn’t look good. Get well soon!Paying the piper…The Hares, Vienna Sausage and Fuck A Duck, on ice. Right where they belong!The initiation ritual for two virgin Hashers…Leech My Nuggets helps his girl, Leech My Pussy, celebrate 69 Hash runs…Oh, Peniscolada is having a birthday? Ain’t that sweet?Looks like the Gash gals want to make her a cake!And so they did.Captain Prickhard got the Hashit…
Once the Hash circle activities were completed I made my way to Sit-n-Bull for some nourishment.
The French dip sandwich hit the spot…
Then it was up to the rooftop of BarCelona for an after-Hash party.
A lot of Hashers had gone across the street to Cheap Charlies. They soon saw the error of their ways and joined us.Watching the sunset behind the now-defunct Central Park Reef hotel. What a waste!This post is NOT fake. It’s from the real trail. So there!
Welcome to the first Hash Monday early morning post of 2021! And for the first time this year I’ve got even less to report than usual. That won’t stop me though!
Speaking of the Hash, I won’t be doing the trail today. It begins with an uncomfortable ride in the Hashmobile and involves a climb up a mountain in an unfamiliar area. And oh yeah, Vienna Sausage (Guenter) is the Hare. Nope, not taking my chances! Several other like-minded folks will be joining me on a more safe and sane alternative trail.
What else is going on? Hmm, well I do get a weekly report on visitors here at LTG. Here’s a sample from the past week:
The green bar is page views, the blue unique visits, and the orange first time visits. I’m no statistician, but the fact that my numbers are pretty constant must mean that the first time visitors are mostly final time visitors as well.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like the numbers matter to me. When I first started the blog my intent was to use it as a vehicle to keep family and friends back home up to date on the happenings in my life. These days I rarely if ever hear from most of my family. I won’t deny that it hurts to be ghosted but I do appreciate the honesty–at least they aren’t pretending to care.
I also used to be a lot more political here but I eventually came to understand that others were making the same arguments better than I can and more importantly, no one’s mind was likely to be changed by anything I posted on my humble blog. So now LTG has devolved into what resembles a personal diary. I don’t even link to it from my other social media accounts–there’s a kind of freedom in writing what is unlikely to ever be read. Of course, I do have my core readers and commenters and I always appreciate the feedback and advice they provide. So, I am humbled and honored if a hundred people or so a day pop in for peek at my so-called life. I hope to prove the old adage that no man is totally worthless–he can always serve as a bad example!
Speaking of blogs and bloggers, the Big Hominid is a daily read for me. Always something interesting going on over there. Today he shared a collection of memes and this one brought back a twisted memory for me:
Jan-Michael Vincent is the only celebrity I’ve ever met in an up close and personal way. I wrote about that encounter here.
I don’t do drugs these days of course. How does that old saw go? I couldn’t kick drugs until I became an alcoholic. Or something like that. Of course, drinking brings it’s own kind of dangers, especially here in the Philippines.
Across that ramshackle plywood bridge lies the entrance to my darts bar, Alley Cats.
They’ve been working on the new drainage canal here in Barretto for going on two years now. The safety of residents and passersby must not be in the contract. There is an even more rickety crossing to get into Cheap Charlies. Of course, leaving after several beers is the REAL dangerous part. Oh well, we’ve all got to die of something I suppose. Being impaled on rebar in a ditch is at least a rather unique way to go.
And now for an update on my love life: I ain’t got one. But two of my futile attempts in 2020 still come to mind on occasion. Arlene likes to post about her new love on Facebook. Nothing wrong with that of course. But today she posted a picture that made me go “hmm”. She was very excited about “her” new house. The photo looked a lot like the one she had shown me that her now ex-boyfriend in Canada was having built. And since foreigners can’t own property here, it was being purchased in Arlene’s name. Even after she had professed her love for me, she wouldn’t end it with the Canadian because of the house. Now, I don’t know the current circumstances and it’s none of my business. Maybe the new boyfriend stepped up and bought the house for her. Or maybe she just did what a lot of Filipinas have been known to do–my name, my house. As stupid as I was for falling in love with someone who wouldn’t end an existing relationship, I’d have to say I’m one lucky bastard!
And then there’s Jessa. I mentioned sharing some drinks with her on New Year’s Eve. During our conversation that night she told me her daughter’s birthday was coming on January 6. She was hoping to find a location to have a pool party for her. I mentioned the Alta Vista community center would be a nice venue and promised to check on its availability. I did and it is. I’m even going to pay for it as a birthday gift. Jessa seemed pleasantly surprised. She’s a nice woman and I did and do care for her. When we were dating she also had an overseas boyfriend. But unlike Arlene, she did choose to end that relationship of her own volition. The problem was she expected me to become the new him. I wanted to continue dating and see how I felt before making a commitment. That was unacceptable to her and she ended it then and there. At least I guess we are still friends of a sort, so there’s that.
Words I will carry with me in 2021. Actually, I’m unlikely to need them because I’m still firmly in the “done with love” mode.
And one last tidbit of an update. Mary came by the house. It seems she has taken some sort of job in Manila. And of course, she needed transportation and rent money to get started. She was willing to earn it and to her credit, her performance was much improved since our last hookup. I still, however, have no interest in seeing her again. Helping her to get to Manila ensures she won’t be showing up on my doorstep anytime soon. I hope.
Alright, well this turned out to be a whole lot of nothin’, didn’t it? I’ll try to do better in the future. Call it a resolution!
I hadn’t picked up the arrows since last year but I had a singles league match to play. So I gathered up my gear, donned an old darts shirt from my glory days in Seoul, and headed out to Alley Cats.
The league format is 5 legs (games) of 501, 5 legs of cricket, and 5 legs of 301 DIDO (double in/double out). It generally takes around an hour and a half to play a match. My opponent for the afternoon was John from Wales. A nice guy and fellow Hasher but he’s been struggling with his dart game lately. This was our result:
Yeah, it was a bit of an ass-kicking. Er, maybe more than a bit.
I like to win but just as importantly, I like to throw well when I win. And the number of marks I managed (as recorded on the bottom of the scoresheet) indicates I was throwing stronger and more consistently than I normally do. I could have played even better, I actually had several chances to win both of the legs I lost but couldn’t hit the out. Still, I was satisfied with my performance overall.
Here’s how things stand in the Barretto Singles League after 7 weeks of play:
I normally don’t stay for the tourney after drinking beer battling through 15 legs of darts, but the tourney director needed another player and I didn’t really have anything better to do, so I signed up and had the good fortune to draw Espie as a partner. My performance in this event was not as consistent as I would like, but I did manage this:
The rare for me, and most amateurs, ton-80. It’s the highest possible score (three triple 20s equals 180 points). I might hit three or four of them a year.
Espie and I went undefeated in the winner’s bracket to take the tourney championship.
That’s my old Seoul International Dart League jersey bringing those good ol’ days back to life! It’s a little big on me now though.
After darts, I rewarded myself with a pork chop dinner at Mango’s.
Damn, it was good!
And so is life in 2021. So far at least.
Unrelated to this post but I thought it was funny…
“Human beings are remarkable – at what we can learn to live with. If we couldn’t get strong from what we lose, and what we miss, and what we want and can’t have, then we couldn’t ever get strong enough, could we? What else makes us strong?” –John Irving
So much for the first day of the rest of my life, or at least 2021. Felt like shit most of the day and other than a 7K walk around Castillejos I didn’t do shit either.
Ten years ago I retired and moved to Columbia, South Carolina to start a new life. Regular readers know how that turned out. Let’s just say it didn’t end well. Then again, it led me to this moment in time so perhaps it was destiny.
Three years ago I completed my first ever Hash run and got initiated into the Kennel.
Fixin’ to lose my virginity. The gal to my left, Gem, turned out to be a scammer. Big disappointment for sure. I hope she enjoys the Karma I paid for…Drink it down, down, down, down! As we say at the Hash, the beer-guzzling ritual is just like a blowjob because what doesn’t go in you, goes on you!
Speaking of the Hash, Scott (Pubic Head) did a photo collage of me doing my candy and cookies thing:
It’s a small thing that gives me big pleasure, as selfish as that sounds.
Speaking of Scott, he took a couple of photos on our hike yesterday morning:
I was moving slower than usual. Way too much beer and not enough sleep the night before will do that I suppose.At least I’m not this guy. Yet.This is the house of former President of the Philippines, Ramon Magsaysay. It’s a museum now. It inspired me to read his story and it is really quite interesting.
And as long as we are taking a historical detour, I bet you didn’t know that Texas was once called New Philippines. I sure didn’t. It’s good to learn something new, especially when you are an old dog like me.
Speaking of something new, I made meatballs in the slow cooker yesterday. Nothing new about that, but I tried a different recipe. Instead of cooking them in a spaghetti sauce base, I used barbeque sauce and, wait for it, grape jelly. I read about that somewhere online and thought to myself “no way”, but on a whim, I figured why not try it?
How they looked in the pot……and in my bowl.
I feared they were going to come out sickly sweet but that was not the case. They had an unusual tangy flavor but it wasn’t an unpleasant taste. I think I prefer the traditional tomato sauce but might go this route occasionally just to change things up some.
Late in the afternoon, I had Vels come by to give me a massage. It was the second time I’ve used her. She does a really nice job and gives a thorough two-hour rubdown. Well, she did miss a spot. She’s an older woman, mid to late 40s I reckon, but not unattractive. She ignored my hints about a happy ending and I didn’t press the issue. I did feel better physically when she finished the massage, so there’s that.
It was after six when Vels left and I decided to fuck off and stay home. I think that’s the first time in just about forever that I voluntarily didn’t go out for some evening beers. Now that I think about it, I haven’t had a beer since last year!
Alright then, let’s see what’s coming next!
I can’t walk through life facing backwards I have tried I tried more than once to just make sure And I was denied the future I’d been searching for But I spun around and hurt no more By living in the moment Living my life Easy and breezy With peace in my mind With peace in my heart Got peace in my soul Wherever I’m going, I’m already home
Not gonna miss that bitch 2020! I did make the best of the final day of that ill-fated year. Had a pleasant breakfast at a place I rarely visit–Harley’s.
It’s one of the first hotels you come to as you walk down Baloy beach road.The view from my table…And another view…Seeing as how it was the end of the year I decided I deserved to splurge on the carbs. I ordered up the Swedish pancakes. They are like regular flapjacks except super thin. They are served folded in half, I guess to give them some substance. Tasted fine though.
As a New Year’s Eve treat, I decided to document my daily walk using the “every 1000 steps, snap a photo” technique. Here’s how that came out:
It started with a morning time full moon…Nothing really interesting to see at 1000 steps so I took this shot.I’m still in Alta Vista at 2000 steps (walking the dogs) and this dwelling was the best photo op. It’s a bit of an aberration given its ramshackle appearance in a neighborhood full of McMansion-type houses. I’m guessing it predates the subdivision and somehow survived. Until a couple of months ago one of the security guards lived there with his family. Vacant now though. Maybe I should become a squatter?On my way to breakfast when I hit 3000 steps in front of the squatter village right outside the main gate of Alta Vista.The best I could find at 4000 steps was this palm tree on Baloy road near Harley’s.That’s the ass side of my shack at 5000 steps.An Alta Vista view at 6000 steps.The path I didn’t take at 7000 steps. I’ll save it for another day.The path I’m on at 8000.I said hello to Easter mountain at 9000.10,000 found me down in the valley, the valley so low…Crossed this bridge at 11,000.Sawmill Road at 12,000.Entering Purok 3 of Barangay San Isidro at 13,000. (a purok is a neighborhood, a barangay is a district within a city.)On the Govic highway at 14,000.The entrance to the Sierra Hills subdivision at 15,000. It’s the first time the gate has been open in months so I ventured in. The lady sweeping asked where I was going and I told her I was just passing through. She shrugged and said okay.On the mean streets of the Santa Monica subdivision at 16,000.17,000 steps brought me to the National highway.I passed through this small village near my house at 18,000And then I was home again at just shy of 19,000. That’s my helper Gina hanging out the laundry. Heh, I started my walking with a full moon and ended it with one…
So, I spent the next few hours doing my normal routines–blogging, napping, interneting, showering. And then it was time to hit the bars and celebrate the pending new year. My plan was to have one drink and buy one lady drink in each bar until I could go no more. I figured I’d be out of it by 9 p.m. at the latest. Nothing ever goes as planned it seems. First of all, I was downright shocked to discover about half the bars were closed. Why would you close a BAR on one of the biggest drinking nights of the year? As it turns out, with just a couple of exceptions, the bars that were open were dead. Go figure. So I wound up visiting fewer places and staying a little longer in them than I originally intended.
My first stop of the day was an old favorite, Alaska Club. It was the first bar I visited in the Philippines, back when it was in Angeles City. The door girl above escorted me inside so I had her join me for a drink. I was the only customer. There was something kinda-sorta familiar about the door girl. And then she reminded me. I had barfined her sometime last year and she gave me a massage with a happy ending. Ah yeah, now I remember! Anyway, I’ve got her number now and may give her a shot at filling the masseuse vacancy.Next up was Hot Zone. These two were the only ones on stage so I brought them both down for a drink. The one next to me was the touchy-feely type, but the night was young. I had two beers here and headed on down the street.I’d never been in bottoms up before and I’m unlikely to ever go back. Just a really depressing vibe for me. One other customer inside.My drinking companion in Bottoms Up. Already forgotten her name. A waitress came up and asked me if I remembered her. I didn’t. She told me she used to be my waitress at Treasure Island and specifically mentioned the Hash events we held there. Still didn’t remember her though. Oh well.
There were a couple more bars on this end of town I had planned to visit but they were closed. Except for Dive In, a bar I don’t particularly like. I used to date the bartender there though so I went inside and bought her some drinks.
Yep, that’s Jessa. Still not sure what happened between us. Just some disconnect. Well, it might be that she wanted more than I was prepared to risk. Anyway, I was the only customer. I stayed for three drinks and when I left the bar closed.That damn full moon kept on stalking me.Popped into Cheap Charlies and shared drinks with a couple of my regulars there.Next up was Wet Spot. I appear to be slightly intoxicated at this point. That’s Catherine, the neighbor gal who is always pestering me for rent and/or food money. Last night she got a lady drink. Today I’m back to ignoring her messages.I intended for Queen Vic to be my final stop for the night (it’s the last bar on my way home). And then Will (a fellow Hasher) showed up and started buying me beers. Queen Victoria’s manager announced they were closing at 10 p.m. so we finished our beers. Will was going to a party at another Hasher’s house in Alta Vista and invited me along. I had the good sense to decline but accepted his off of a ride home. Somewhere along the way I changed my mind and joined him at the party. More beers were drunk and so was I. I actually left a few minutes before midnight but knew the magic hour had arrived when the fireworks started while I was stumbling home.
And that’s how I spent the final day and night of the year. Except for the getting drunk part it wasn’t much different than most of my days here. Starting the new year with a hangover but I did struggle my way through a 7K walk this morning. Took a nap, wrote this post, and now I’m thinking about a massage.
Another adventurous hike with the Wednesday walking group yesterday. We traveled out to Bataan, the province next door on the other side of the old Navy base. Our destination was the tower atop Mount Santa Rita.
These days the property serves as a weather observatory of some sort and is controlled by the Philippine military. We needed special permission to enter and make the hike. Our planned adventure proved to be quite popular, with over 30 folks signing up, including a contingent from Angeles City.
Alright, so what was I thinking to take on this trail barely a week after the nearly disastrous hike to Boton Falls on the old Navy base? Well, the situation was quite a bit different. I mean we were hiking up a paved road, there and back again. So there would be no getting lost, no sticker bushes, no stinging ants. I likened it to my days back in Korea when I’d make the climb up to Seoul Tower on pavement.
Easy, peasy. Right, Kevin Kim?
It turns out I was wrong about that. To begin, Mount Santa Rita is twice as high as Namsan. And the road leading up there was much steeper than I imagined it would be. It was 4.5K to the top, with the last 2K being at a 20% or so grade. It kicked my ass and there was some real question in my mind if I were going to be able to make it all the way up. In the end, pride would not let me bail before reaching the objective, but man oh man, were my lungs screaming. I’ve been struggling with uphills quite a bit lately but this prolonged ordeal felt like it was going to kill me. I’m not sure what the deal is, but I suspect my diminished lung capacity is not supplying enough oxygen to my poor old leg muscles. Anyway, I made it and I have the pictures to prove it.
But before I get to that I did have an interesting encounter on the hike. I noticed some of these alongside the road and there was something oddly familiar about them:
I got a better look and could make out the writing on top: Ray-O-Lite.
In the summer of 1972, I worked for the Rayolite company at their plant in Huntington Beach, California. Remembering that fact reminded me about a co-worker named Lisa I had a big crush on. I took her on one date, a Crosby, Stills, and Nash concert. Turns out she had a crush too, just not with me. Ah, well. Story of my as yet unlived life, right? In a sort of epilogue to that unrequited love about four years later I was a mailman in Anaheim and delivered to her house one day. Her mama told me Lisa had married her crush. I hope she had a happily ever after with him.
The other thought I had was that I may have actually had a hand in making those reflective markers. I mean, I’m sure they were installed back in the Navy days. And when I worked there they were a relatively new product line. So, it is possible that me and that Ray-O-Lite were together once again after all these years. Prove me wrong!
Anyway, remembering all that helped me forget my suffering a bit as I made my way up the mountain. Let’s go to the photos, shall we? (As usual, these photos are a group effort. Scott pulls them all together from several sources, cleans them up, then posts them on our Facebook page. Some are mine, but I steal them from there too.)
The path we took to the top.Gathering up at the rendezvous point for our 10:00 a.m. start. That’s a pretty impressive vape cloud if I do say so myself.After marching up the road a kilometer or so, we had to get signed in at a military checkpoint. Then two soldiers accompanied us for the rest of the hike. And we are off!Our two guides for the hike.Our objective is in sight but still oh so far away…As usual, I fell further and further behind. A couple of the gals felt sorry for me I think and stayed back to keep an eye on me.Damn, it doesn’t even look that much closer and I’m panting and drenched in sweat.One disappointment was that there were not many vistas to enjoy on the way up. But we found this one and it gave me the opportunity to rest a little without appearing to be a wimp.I definitely have a crush on this cutie named Marick.But I guess I’m still looking for love in all the wrong places…It was impossible to be the last to arrive discreetly. I had an audience. But by God, I made it!Not so high and mighty now are you, bitch?Only 1551 feet? It sure as hell felt like I was climbing Everest… That fence also interfered with the views. Damn it!If you were willing to do some more climbing you could improve the views.It was kind of a hazy day though.The high and the mighty…Looking down on the rest of us…Isn’t that right, Scott?There’s some pretty scenery!Our fearless group of hikers!Alright then, time to head back down the mountain.As you might imagine, going back down was oh so much easier. The asphalt was covered in algae in places though so you had to be careful not to slip…And I wasn’t even last to make it down!Even had time to stop and smell the flowers…
Well, I did it. Another monster hike and I lived to tell about it.
Felt as old and faded as this post when I was done though.
Here it is New Year’s Eve. Guess I’ll go out and do a bar crawl and see how long I last. I know it won’t be midnight though. But who knows, maybe I’ll fall in love with someone.
I’m willing to make that commitment! If the price is right.
Happy New Year everyone! I’ll be back with a full report on tonight’s adventures tomorrow.
Feeling kind of bleh lately, not sure why really, and not all that unusual for a depressive personality like mine. I’m sure that it will pass in due course and I’ll be ready for some New Year blues.
It’s hard to feel sorry for yourself in this country though because so many have it so much worse, in real and tangible ways. Take Cathy, an online friend from Bohol for instance. Several years ago she and her American husband “adopted” a cousin’s baby because mama wasn’t able to take care of him. A couple of years ago Cathy’s husband died unexpectantly. Cathy struggled but managed in large part because she was motivated by her devotion to “her” son, Eithan. Well, you might have guessed what happened. This Christmas mama came for Eithan and is apparently not going to bring him back. Cathy is of course devastated and doesn’t know what to do. Last we talked she was thinking of joining a convent, whatever that means. She also asked if she could move here to work for me. I told her I don’t have any openings now. I feel for her and her sorrow at losing Eithan but I am advising her to not do anything rash.
Last night, Vel, a woman I tried out once to be my new masseuse contacted me. Seems her kid is in the hospital in Laguna (down south of Manila) and she needs money for medicine. I offered my sympathy and nothing else so far. It sounds a little sketchy, to be honest, and I’m not sure why she thinks a one time customer has some obligation to provide financial assistance for her kids. Catherine, a 25-year old I first met in Wet Spot bar, is also always besieging me for rent and food money. Like I always tell her, it is not my responsibility to pay your bills. I do give her the opportunity to provide me certain services in exchange for cash occasionally, but that’s all there’s gonna be. Same thing with Mary who keeps begging me to see her. I do feel sorry for her but so far at least I haven’t relented.
So, comparatively speaking, what do I have to be sad about?
In the good news department, I threw some decent darts relatively consistently last night. So did my partner.
The result was a first-place finish. Thanks, Espie!
Another big Wednesday walking adventure. I’ll write that up tomorrow. Now I must nap!
A long Hash trail yesterday, despite us oldsters and a couple of newbies taking a bit of a “shortcut”. What we did was avoid some of the climbs but that added more distance. Still, I think we made the right call even though my group was the last to finish.
Leech My Nuggets was the Hare and as usual, he provided a well-marked and challenging trail without the insanity Vienna Sausage (Guenter) is known for. Well, Leech did do something I particularly despise–checkpoints. Five of them at least. A checkpoint is placed at an intersection with one or more other trails. Rather than clearly mark the direction to be taken, the Hare requires the Hashers to exhaust each possibility in order to determine the proper path. It is basically just a process of elimination–you walk up a trail and if you don’t see any marks for a while, you turn around and explore the next trail. So this adds both time and steps to the effort of completing the journey and is especially frustrating when you are already at the back of the pack. Checkpoints were originally intended to keep the Hashers in a tighter group by slowing down the runners and letting the walkers catch up. But they don’t work that way here because an important part of the equation is missing. The runners are supposed to indicate the proper trail once they find it, but that never happens because no one carries chalk or powder on trail. Anyway, I hate even one checkpoint, and having five to contend with kinda chilled my buzz.
Here are some photos from the day’s journey:
The trail as intended by the Hare. We made some modifications to better suit our needs and preferences.Waiting to get started.Why are we waiting?And at last, we are On-On…Starting our ascent through some houses off Abra street…It was a steep climb, can you tell?I liked it better once the up was more meandering…Ever onward as Bilbo Baggins might say…These ducks refused to line up in a row for me…Country living…Fresh air…And nice views…The kids saw me coming and started hollering ‘candy! candy!”It’s nice to be remembered.Other than the checkpoints, Leech marked a good trail…Hey, these photos don’t take themselves…Almost there…Looks cozy…Our virgins. I’m betting they won’t be back…The final kilometer…On-Home at the Alta Vista Community Center at last. And this is a twofer: Easter mountain looms in the background.Time for some liquid refreshment… Oh, my chili sold out again…even at 100 pesos a bowl!The Hare, Leech My Nuggets, and his gal Leech My Pussy.Our canine member, Doggy Style, enjoys his time on the ice. Go figure…It’s been quite some time since I accumulated this many steps in one day.And that’s about enough for this post, don’t you think?
Which is one of the reasons I drink gin and soda when I’m not playing darts…
Less carbs with the gin drink but more alcohol content than the beer. It’s a tradeoff that I’m making in my quest to lose a few more pounds. This photo provided a bit more motivation:
Those ugly, judgmental mugs would drive a man to drink!
Anyway, it’s another Hash Monday so I’m doing a morning post here and don’t have much to write about. I guess that is stating the obvious though. Leech My Nuggets is the Hare today so I will not be surprised if I find it necessary to shortcut his trail. I suspect he has more than one climb in mind for us, and one is about my limit these days. Our On-Home is here at the Alta Vista Community Center so I shouldn’t have any trouble finding my way back. Once again I’ll be contributing a pot of chili to our food service.
Browning the ground beef…The other ingredients,And everything into the crockpot. Easy peasy.
At 50 pesos a bowl I’m pretty sure I’m not breaking even. Will count how many bowls in a pot, then do the math. I think I’ll need to raise the price to at least 75 pesos ($1.50) though.
A rainy day yesterday so I wasn’t able to get out and about much. Well, wasn’t motivated to do so is probably more accurate. I’m not sure if it is cause for concern yet but I find myself increasingly forgetful. No, not as bad as Biden, but irritating to get down the road and realize I don’t have my phone, or vapes, or earbuds. Yesterday I got all the way to the highway and realized that I hadn’t brought any money, so had to turn around and march on back home to get some. I need to remember to remember to do a mental checklist before leaving the house. And yes, I repeated to remember on purpose. I thought it was kind of funny but apparently, my Grammarly app does not agree.
Oh well. I forget what I was going to say next.
It’s good to see my watchdogs keeping me safe.You lazy bastards…
Oh, and this is from the same guy who claims it was impossible for Biden to steal the election:
Time for me to prepare for my Hash ordeal. More on that tomorrow.
As seen on my morning walk. Not sure if this is a warning or a joke I don’t quite get…
Speaking of head, I didn’t get any. Under relentless pressure, I almost succumbed (heh, you can’t spell succumbed without “cum”) to Mary’s entreaties for a rendevous. And then at the last minute, I bailed again. It seems my big head keeps overruling that other one. And honestly, the last experience with her was very unsatisfying and I didn’t want to waste my time and money on a gal with a hot bod who apparently doesn’t know how to use it.
I really don’t know if Mary is an actual prostitute. She denies it and I tend to believe her, if for no other reason than she sucks at the job. Er, well, I guess technically sucking is part of the job and she’s not good at that either. I’m really not that hard to please, but I need my partner to at least be able to pretend to be into me when I’m, um, into her. Mary apparently has no acting ability whatsoever. That last time we were together I thought she was going to cry. Not conducive to maintaining the illusion that a hot young woman is feeling the passion for my lovemaking skills. Ah well.
I guess this post was triggered by an article I came across this morning dealing with “Sex, Love, and Money in Cambodia: Professional Girlfriends and Transactional Relationships” looks at the intimate lives of Cambodian women and the idea of “transactional relationships.” It was written by a female professor from the USA so I was expecting the usual woke gibberish that passes for academia these days. I was pleasantly surprised to get an accurate depiction of the dynamics of this type of relationship. Although I’m no expert on the Cambodia scene, the author’s insights are spot-on for the P4P (pay for play) activities in the Philippines. It’s worth the read if you have any interest in the subject. These were some of the highlights for me:
…young women are using the tools around them, which in this case are sex and intimacy, to form relationships with foreign men as a means to improve their lives, make socioeconomic advancements, and ultimately find enjoyment in their lives. The book also sheds light on the relationships themselves that develop between Cambodian women and foreign men, which are multi-layered and complex, but often stigmatized as only ever commercial or only ever exploitative. After spending over 10 years talking to people, I found that often this is not the case, and that people are genuinely seeking true love and intimacy, and that intimacy and economics mingle in complex ways, as they do in any relationship, in Cambodia and beyond.
I made my first trip to the PI in 2008 and was quite astounded by this aspect of life here. Most of the gals I’ve met over the years are doing the best they can with the assets available to them. I see no difference between a woman who works on her back or a man who carries bricks on his back to make a living.
There were definitely active decisions being made to participate in this work and in this lifestyle. Most of the women were not controlled heavily by bosses and managers. They could make their own choices as to whether or not they would go with clients and what they would or would not do with clients. One of the main findings of the book was that most of them were not doing the kind of pre-negotiated sex-for-cash transaction that we often understand to be commercial sex work. It was more ambiguous than that. It was based in a grey area where sex, love and money were all coming together, but it wasn’t framed as commercial sex work – the women didn’t view themselves as sex workers, and the men didn’t view themselves as clients.
In all these years I’ve never met one woman in a bar who wasn’t there by choice. Well, let me clarify, never in the Philippines. I did know of some Filipinas who were brought to Korea under false pretenses and forced to work as bargirls.
Their argument is: “We don’t want to be rescued by people who think they necessarily know better than us.” What happens when they are “rescued,” is that often, they are often put into these rehabilitation programs or vocational shelters where they are taught to learn to sew and handle a sewing machine, and then placed back in a garment factory. This is not the socioeconomic decision they are making. It’s one that is being forced upon them by people who believe this is a more dignified form of work. What the sex and entertainment workers are demanding is respect for the decisions they make under very constrained circumstances. Bar work is a viable means of labor and employment for some of them—that they choose—and what they are calling for is recognition and respect for those decisions, made within the environments that they are in and among the limited options that they have.
Precisely. The hypocrisy of these NGO’s and government authorities who shut down the bars and “rescue” the working women is astounding. When the bars are gone, the women are forced into a much harder life, including being a streetwalker.
Well, anyway, it is what it is I suppose. I’m honestly not really into that scene myself but will partake on occasion. Some of the gals are real pros and know how to work you for the maximum payoff. Others, like poor Mary, don’t seem to have a clue. I guess it is really no different than any industry in that respect.
Moving on to other things.
The pot roast I made last night was quite excellent if I do say so myself.And watching the dawning of a new day is always a treat for an old fart like me. How many more of these do I have? Well, they say you get the government you deserve. And those Biden voters are going to get it good and hard. As will the rest of us, unfortunately.
I guess I didn’t do much that would be considered traditional, but I did hang with some friends and enjoyed some good eats. And beers. After the party, I popped into Mango’s for more beer to exchange greetings with the staff and enjoy some ocean views. I’ve got a few photos from the day’s doings to give you a taste of the revelry.
The gracious hosts for the party, Steve and Viola. Steve’s a pretty good bloke for an Aussie. I’m going to assume that Viola’s middle name is Lynn.It wasn’t catered and it wasn’t a potluck. The hosts worked hard to provide an outstanding selection of eats and the parts I sampled were all excellent.These gals were grillin’ up some samgyeopsal to add to the mix.Steve said there 45 folks in attendance. Here are some of the guys…And the guy who matters most. My Christmas shirt says “Where’s my Ho-Ho-Ho’s?”As is their custom, the Filipinas hung out together in the other room. I think it is because they prefer speaking in Tagalog. Also, that’s where the videoke machine was located.I’d never been to Steve’s place before but this house across the street is where my first apartment was located. I don’t miss it!When I arrived at Mango’s looking forward to some bay viewing, this boat was in the way.The boat finally pulls out, then SHE shows up. How am I supposed to enjoy the view?Hey, she looks familiar…Nope, not her.I think the last time I was in a kayak was on a river in Arkansas 40 years ago… Nothing bad about these mittons…Christmas on the beach. Once again, almost exclusively Filipinos. A sign of the times I suppose.And the sun sets on a Christmas day…
I’m trying harder these days to appreciate the life I’m living rather than wishing for something else. In that spirit, I can truthfully say that this was the best Christmas I’ve ever experienced. This year.
You’ll need to take this post with a grain of salt. Hey, it’s Christmas, cut me some slack!
The party held by the helpers at my house last night appeared to have been a success. If drunkenness and bad singing are any indications. Yeah, I consented to let them do the videoke thing so as not to come off as the Grinch. At least they asked. I kind of regretted it when I hit the hay at 9:00 and they were still going strong. But I put on my headphones and drowned them out until I fell asleep. I got up this morning and one of the guests was passed out on my living room couch. I found out later she was sleeping in a pool of her own vomit. Yuck! Well, my helpers cleaned up the mess so no biggie I suppose. Gee, aren’t I just full of the Christmas spirit?
I went into town for a few beers while the gals partied. Was surprised to see a fair number of bars closed. Cheap Charlies was open though so I popped in and had a couple. Bought some lady drinks too. Caring is sharing and all that. Actually, one of the gals I drank with was a real cutie. Found out she was 22, no kids, and a boyfriend in Switzerland. Bless her heart. On my way back home I popped into the newest place in town, Adam’s Sports Bar. The only reason I even go there is that I know the bartender from her Cheap Charlies days. Some of the girls are cute I suppose. And I did get to witness them practicing doing blow jobs.
Getting ready for action……and they are off!That gal in the maroon top can really suck it!
Yeah, I know. What else is there to do though?
My driver took me shopping yesterday. I also needed to renew my visa but immigration was closed for “disinfecting”. Seems awfully convenient to do that on Christmas eve. Ah well, government employees are going to be government employees I suppose. Anyway, I was happy to see Danny taking his wife’s passing in stride. He’s probably relieved that he doesn’t have to watch her suffer anymore. He told me his son’s wife is having a baby today and he seemed comforted in that whole circle of life thing.
Rest in Peace. I’d only met her a couple of times but it seems she lived a good life while it lasted.
That’s all I’ve got this morning. Attending a party at noon out on Baloy hosted by a couple of Hash friends. I’ll be back with more tomorrow!
