There were five participants in the Friday group hike yesterday, and as the old-timer of the group, it was up to me to chart a course. It’s been wet, and I deemed the hills too risky an undertaking (hey, that’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it!), so we did a mostly flat street walk. There was not much new to see, but I took some photos anyway.
I hit my wall at 7K and opted to bail out for a trike ride the rest of the way. Yeah, I felt like a pussy, but it just wasn’t worth it to continue when each step was painful.
Next on my Friday agenda was attending the SOB dance competition at Wet Spot. I only attend once or twice a month these days, and I find it mildly entertaining at best. The home team put on the winning performance. At the other end of the spectrum, all La Oficina could muster was a solitary dancer. She was good, but seeing her have to dance alone was sad.
When the show was over at eight, we called it a night and headed home.
Facebook memories took me back nine years to my dart playing days in Seoul.
I made this meme back in my Pyeongtaek days:
It’s election season, and this is my mantra:
Kevin Kim has a post today in which he mentions the rudeness of Koreans. I had a similar experience last night. Wet Spot has only one comfort room, so naturally, it is co-ed. I’m standing at the urinal, and a woman calls out, “Remember me? I used to give you massages at your house. You’ve gotten fat!” Yeah, I know. Thanks for reminding me. Apparently, she is working at Wet Spot now as one of their GRO/back rub girls. She offered to massage me, but I declined and mentioned my girlfriend was with me. She came to our table later and offered to massage Swan, but she also declined. Whatever her name is looked vaguely familiar, but it’s been years since she touched me. And she never will again. This fat old man is off-limits.
And that’s a good lead-in for today’s YouTube video. I do not subscribe to this vlogger, but he makes some valid points. Indeed, not ALL Filipinos are these kinds of rude, but some are. I will say that I’m guilty of the peeing wherever I am when I need to go thing, but like I tell Swan, I’m just adapting to the Filipino culture. And at my age, when you gotta go, you gotta go. The being obnoxiously loud thing is probably still my biggest pet peeve on the rudeness scale.
I’m not sure these all qualify as funny, but here goes anyway:
Gonna start my Saturday on the town at It Doesn’t Matter to wish manager Vharry a happy birthday. We’ll see where things go from there.
Down some slippery steps
No one ever thinks to maintain the steps by giving them a good brushing to get rid of accumulated algae, eh? True here, too. And probably the States. When the weather’s good, no one thinks about maintenance. Then the rains come, and everyone remembers and bitches.
Yeah, I felt like a pussy, but it just wasn’t worth it to continue when each step was painful.
As in PAIN-pain? Not because of breathing difficulties? Feet hurting? Inner thigh rubbed raw? Something else?
The way I judged it.
The judging slip misspells “Oficina” as “Officina.”
Gonna start my Saturday on the town at It Doesn’t Matter to wish manager Vharry a happy birthday.
They love those unecessary or awkwardly placed “h”es in the PI, don’t they: Bhel, Jhon, Vharry… Makes me think of Sanskrit: dharma, buddhi, bakhti, Radha…
Today, the 14th, is my brother David’s birthday.
I distinctly recall strolling through the countryside many moons ago with a comely young provincial lass who proceeded to nonchalantly drop her drawers and take a squirt while not missing a beat in our conversation, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, which, of course, in her experience it obviously was. Her actions were actually sort of charming in their complete innocence and naïveté.
(She also effortlessly picked a mango and tucked right into it, then quickly dispatched a snarling mongrel with a well-aimed stick. A true country girl).
But, shall we say, the novelty has long since waned.
The uncouth behavior highlighted by that vlogger is certainly not universal but it’s common enough to ring true, and he’s not trying to be funny. Blunt assessments, and seeking reactions, for sure, but also unfortunately pretty accurate.
But Kanos can’t complain because if you don’t like it go home etc. etc.
Most you can ever do is try to set a good example, but even that has its pitfalls…
Cheers.
Drain, yes, I agree. Set a good example, and maybe others will follow suit. I’ve had a girl pee in the street before, too, but it was dark, and she was discrete. Guys pee anywhere and everywhere, and anytime they want. I’m not so blatant to piss against a wall on the highway, but when I need to go, I’ll look for a tree or a post to have a little privacy.
The noise is still shocking. We have a Sam’s Pizza with an outdoor speaker on full blast, so loud I hate walking by. Some guys modify the mufflers on their bikes so you can hear them a mile away. I hate that.
But these are small things compared to the shit show back home, and I will gladly deal with them to live here happily ever after.
Kev, nope, preventive maintenance just isn’t a thing here. I don’t walk in a couple of places during the rainy season because of the slimy concrete. I’m tempted to carry a bottle of bleach and go on an algae-killing mission.
I wimped out because my legs were feeling sore and tired, and we had a couple of kilometers to go on a narrow, traffic-infested road that was no fun to walk. I’d just had enough.
The bar is named La Oficina, and that’s how they spelled it on the signage. I hadn’t noticed the misspelling until you pointed it out just now. It’s a stupid name for a bar, regardless. The story I heard was they wanted to call it “The Office,” but the owner of a now-closed bar by that name objected.
Yes, for the love of “h”! My name is spelled Jhon more often than it is correctly. Or maybe that’s right here, and I’m wrong. I’ll just stick to Gwapo.
I forgot, is David older or younger than you? I have it in my head that you are the middle child.
I’m the eldest.