15 days in the Philippines, or, how to blow 10k in 2 weeks

In January 2012 I took 2 weeks R&R to the Philippine Islands.

We are all adults here, well most of us, so I will not yank your chain when I tell you why I went. These are in no specific order:

#1: I plan to move to the Pacific eventually, and wanted to check out both for-profit and non-profit type endeavors, to include meeting with potential partners
#2: I wanted to do some nice things for some poor people
#3: I wanted to get drunk and chase women

On my first deployment in 2010 I did not take R&R for manpower issues, and I took one for the team which was no big deal because quite frankly I was having fun. On my 2011 deployment, I was not having fun, and my own mortality had slapped me in the face on several occassions. At first, I was going to take R&R back to the US. As I became more and more paranoid that something bad was going to happen, I decided that rather than leave one cold craphole to fly across the world to another cold craphole (oklahoma), I would go to the PI. I actually went a couple of other places than the PI (overnight trips on charter planes) but I will not write about those or post pics because The Man did not authorize me to go to those places. I will also not be posting the photos of some of the more beautiful beaches and countryside because in most of those photos is either myself or one particular "guide" whom I promised I would not publish. IT should also come as no surprise that the overwhelming bulk of my photos are of women.

I also figured there was no reason to go cheap. I could have. Yes, I am member of a dozen trade and liesure boards and knew all the ins and outs of where to go and how to do it, and how to do it cheap. This did not interest me. In hindsight, I wish some of it had, because things did get a little ridiculous at one point, but in the end I could afford what I did so there is no harm no foul.

Although many recommended it, I did not want to go to Angeles City, even though it was the cheapest. It is also the slummiest. And you can find half the earths whoremongeres, insurance fraudsters, cheap charlie pensioners, pedophiles and ugly (insert country here) at that place and I simply did not want to go. I also did not want to go to Boracay, because that is pretty much just beaches and go go bars. I wanted to see real people doing real things, and experience the city and the villages. Instead, I chose to go to Manila and to Cebu City. And while I would not recommend Manila to everyone, unless they knew what they were doing, due to the price and the tourist traps, I would recommend Cebu City to my grandma, especially if she was a lesbian. It was easily one of the coolest places I have ever been.

It should also be noted that I had intially wanted to spend the entire time in Cebu, but due to their huge January festival, I could not get a decent accomodation my first week of R&R because every Cebuano on the planet returns for this Festival of Fertility. Yes, I missed the Festival of Fertility. The Effing injustice.


Day One:

I flew in on Qatar Air. For those of you who have never flown Qatar, I should probably mention that they provide free alcohol. Free. On an 8 hour flight. Also, it appears they went to every country on the planet and recruited the prettiest people for their flight crew. There were no grizzled, angry fatties here, just pleasant, pretty faces from asia, africa, the carribean and the middle east. Even the guys were hot enough to sex after 7 months in Afghanistan.

I probably should not have landed in Manila drunk. This probably would have saved me hundreds of dollars on my first day. In fact, I should have gone straight to bed.

Much like places like Seattle and Portland, the taxi companies here line the right pockets and they get special treatment. In Manila, it is the unmarked taxis that get the special treatment, as they can park right at the terminal and solicit riders. The metered cabs, meanwhile, are literally a mile down the sidewalk. I knew this going in. But I was drunk. And the exchange rate was 42 to 1, so really I did not care. I got an unmarked car to take me downtown to my hotel. He said the trip would cost 2000 pesos, which is roughly $50 dollars + tip. Reasonable. Until I later found out that that trip normally costs 200 pesos, as in $5. Anyway, tipped the guy entirely too muc considering he was scamming me, but in his defense he was prepared to drive me all night long and take me to hot spots and places where I could "get drugs" and "get girls" and "meet other americans" none of which interested me while I had my bags in the car and I was sweating bourbon.

So about the hotel:

Like I said. I went above and beyond. I found a hotel in which I could rent the Penthouse, which was essentially the entire top floor. $250 per night. Compeltely unreasonable in an economy like this. It was not available my first 3 nights there, which was fine, as the money I saved I used to hire a security guard and a kareoke machine. Yes, I am a genuis for getting a kareoke machine.

Got to the hotel and stayed in the second best room they had. This place has all sorts of scams, like food and beverages in your fridge marked up 500% that they add to your bill if you use any of it. They also failed to mention I could buy internet for the entire week, rather than buying 4 hour blocks for $10. More on this later.

I drank several glasses of water to rehydrate while I pondered whether or not to go out or stay in. It was already midnight. I looked out the window and saw a dozen young Filipino women down on the street doing a street performance dressed like Fidel Castros and Cowgirls, dancing and singing and shaking their butts.

I was going out.

Attachment 6797

Day 1 continued
Fewer pics of this day than any other


I went downstairs and had a few overpriced drinks at the bar hotel. These were US prices. But it didn’t sink in because of the exchange. After I regained my composure, I decided to set out. I promised myself that no matter how annoying the scams were, that I would not be the ugly American, I would be Mr. Nice Guy, I would smile, and I would tip, as its not the employees fault their crappy establishment is owned by some profiteering douchers.
Like an idiot, I ended up staying in the first go go bar I stopped at. There were not many customers, and the few there were very drunk, very rude, very irritating Japanese men, which meant they were being ignored by the 30 dancers. So as soon as Fresh Meat walked in, I was done for. I got mobbed.

Now, for those of you who live in a bubble, in the PI (and Houston) the go go bars use what they call Early Work Release, where basically you pay the bar to leave with a girl, and whatever happens later between two consenting, negotiating adults is between them. Now I happen to know that in most cases the girls do not see any of the money paid to the bar. So basically, I was not at these places for EWRs. I was also not there to buy “Lady Drinks”, which work just like US Strip Clubs where the girls get a commission for you buying them a drink marked up 500%. I would just rather put the money in their hand, although I did buy a few for the ugly girls

Anyway, I was drunk, and I wanted to live excessively. Also, the 30 girls all trying to talk to me was overwhelming, especially since they were all quite hands on. And I think the Japanese karaoke guys were bar employees there to annoy everyone else… So….. When the manager asked if I wanted to rent the private club/stage/DJ/bar upstairs, I jumped right on it. She offered to send all the girls upstairs with me, but I declined. I said I would pick 10. OF course, I was expecting to have a few more drinks and talk to the girls a bit and then subtly pick my dancers, when the manager suddenly had them all line up like a casting call.
It was Effing terrible. All those cow eyes, all of them jumping up and down saying “Pick me, Sir Bobby, Pick me!” Oh my gawd, this was exactly what I did not want. So, I picked 10. I felt like such a jerk.

The photo above is from fairly early on in the party with a couple of the girls. I had to pay off the manger to be able to take pictures, and still some of the girls did not want to be in the photo
So upstairs it was. DJ let me pick the songs, we took shots from bottles of overpriced Tequila, I tipped the dancers (about 10x normal, as I would later find out) and they frolicked about topless and babbled on it a mixture of Tagalog and English.

Photo from the balcony 4 am
Attachment 6798


At this point I could barely stand up. They kept asking me for EWR, which I did not want to do. They seemed so eager, so I came up with a negotiation. It was already 4am. The bars close at 6am. I told them I would pick two of them to come to my hotel for breakfast and booze, and that I would pick the two based on the Topless Karaoke Contest we were about to have with the karaoke machine by the DJ Booth. And the battle was on. Yes, there are pictures. No, you will not get them.

The winner was a girl named Lily who did a rendition of In The Air Tonight by Phil Collins, which would have been gut wrenching had she not been topless; the other winner was a girl named Wendy who butchered the Macarena and made me laugh harder than I had in almost a year. I gave them my contact info at the hotel. They were the 3rd and 4th from the left in the top photo. Lilly looked like a chubbier Lily Thai, from who I think she borrowed her name, and Wendy was a litte tribal looking girl from Cebu. Their eyes glazed over, as that was the High Roller Hotel apparently, and I informed them that I was not rich, just reckless with money.

I should also mention that this was probably the most expensive bar on the Burgos Strip, one of the bar managers tried to steal a bottle of tequila I paid for and act like we drank it, and the staff there was outright annoying minus the girls. I may have been drunk, but I have Bottle Radar, and I am never too drunk to know how much liquor I have left.....

I did not have a phone yet, as I brought a cheapy phone and notebook in case I got robbed, and hadn’t gotten a local SIM Card yet. I let the hotel know I was expecting company, and they said they would call me. I was halfway not expecting the girls to show up. They showed up and we had breakfast in the overpriced Retro-Themed hotel restaurant, then we retired to the room and drank more until we all blacked out. The next morning, we all ordered room service at 3 pm, I called a cab and gave the nice girls $300 a piece, which is an average month’s salary in the PI. Apparently, most Americans, Brits and Australians usually “tip” more along the lines of $25, which makes you guys real assholes.




Breakfast
Attachment 6799


Wendy, 4'10", 27 years old
Attachment 6800

Attachment 6801

Attachment 6802

The balcony from the lobby in the afternoon
Attachment 6803

I easily spent $1000 my first day, not including the hotel, which had been prepaid.

Absurd. I should also point out that I didn't even spend $1000 in Cebu and I satyed there an entire week. So yeah, Manila is expensive, but I also went to the expensive, monoploy bars. There were better, cheaper ones I would find later.

Meanwhile, my credit card statement online was showing 2 charges, one from the bar from last night, and one from the bar next door. As I would later find out, the bar next door was part of the monopoly and they used their card reader because I was apparently declined on the original one, but whatever, it freaked me out. After I showered, and anpped, and had some more water, I trotted down to the original bar when it opened at 5pm and asked them about the card. They assured me I would only be charged once. I took their word and decided to walk about some more, but not before letting thme know that these are the sorts of things they inform their customers before doing.

A few blocks from the hotel
Attachment 6804

Dropped my laundry here, right after I stared at this sweaty little island girls butt for a few minutes
Attachment 6805

More downtown
Attachment 6806

Cuban theme in the hotel resto today
Attachment 6807

I walked around and looked at shops. Got hit up by a lot of "freelancers" for massages and dates here and there. The going rate for a street walker here is $10-20. Sometimes, there were men parked in their motorbikes, napping, very close to a "worker" and I presume it was her husband or brother. I wanted to piss on these guys. Whenever the girls would offer, I would discreetly give them 1000 pesos (2 5s, in case their husband took it) and tell them no thanks, and to buy something nice. Seeing their smile was worth it. When their was an obvious husband near by, I would tell her not to share it with her hsuband (yeah right) and I would yell "Get a fucking job" as I walked by him. I hope I never yelled that to some random guy.

Day 2 was also when I pciked up my crew of street kids. They caught me going into the 7-11 next to my hotel. They were adorable, there were 5 of them, not very old. And they were filthy. The security would not let them in, so they waited for me. ** I should note that almost EVERY business has an armed security guard, hell, even the churches do. and when I say armed, I mean like sub machine gun/auto shotgun armed.

Anyway, they caught me coming out after buying a SIM CARD, a sprite and a box of condoms. "Sir, help, please sir." I tried to give them some pocket coins, probably 50 pesos worth.

I had been warned about giving in to the kids and beggars. Yeah, yeah, they are like cats. They were everywhere, and the little girls selling trinkets in dangerous traffic made me especially angry. The people on my forums and that I spoke to locally all said to tell the kids to bugger off and go my way.

A little girl, probably 5 years old, was the one I tried to give the coins to. She pulled her hand back and shook her head and said "Me no want money, me want pood." I melted. And yes, they say "pood." And "Pacebook" and "Peed my Pamily"

So, I tried to take them into 7-11. The guard blocked them. I told him they were with me. They laughed and gave him a funny look. We went inside and I bought them 2 gallons of milk, a couple dozen eggs, some bread, some rice (of course), and some water. Of course, they wanted sodas and candy, too, but I told them no junk food this time. I was testing them. In the end, 4 bags worth cost me, incidentally, less than 200 pesos, which was less than what I paid for a beer at my hotel.

I didnt take their photos as I thought it would be disengenuine. As we left, some old fat white guy with a beard and an eastern european accent I could not understand told me that "you are only making it worse," to which I responded "I didn't ask your opinion" and meandered on.

Today, against my better judgement, and showing a great lack of creativity, I decided to hit the bar adjacent to my first bar. It was not the one that charged my card, as I was trying not to go to one owned by the same party. I walked inside, and there were quite a few customers. It was better lit, and more open aired, with no upstairs. The dancers stayed clothed and wore bikinis, and more less wiggled while they texted than danced. I thought it was cute. The girls on the floor wore various outfits and pretty much solicited drinks and EWRs.

It was tempting. It really was, but I just did not want to go that route tonight. A couple of them were very articulate and made me laugh. A couple of them were very detailed about what they wanted to do to me. But I toughed it out. Instead, I shut them up by buying all the girls a Lady Drink. I think that there were like 32 total.

I smoked some cigarettes and tipped the dancers. We told some jokes. I watched some old man in the corner, who appeared to be negotiating, get irate and chase a girl off. She came over and said he was tired of being asked for Lady Drinks. Ugly Westerner. I mean, just say no. You don't have to make a scene and embarrass the girls.

Anyway, some pics of the ladies

The dark skinned girl farthest to the right leaning back in the chair was incredibly hot, and had a filthy mouth, my god it was hard to say no.
Attachment 6808

The bar staff, who was about to feel my wrath
Attachment 6809

The waitresses, on stage for a pose
Attachment 6810


Also, the dancers did not want photos, they were probably new. From what I picked up, the dancers at these places were usually the newer employees, who were on salary, and had to work their way up to the floor where they could mingle and get commissions. That is why I always tipped the girls on stage.

So the way your bilsl work si they bring you an unofficial reciept with each purchase, that you sign, and then they keep them all at your table, usually in a cup or stuck onto a rod. Then you tab out all at once at the end of the night. This gives you two chances to contest something. The first round of drinks probably cost me like $150 or something. I would have rather given it to the girls myself, but I was not feeling well, I did not feel like being sneaky, and I wanted them to ring the big bell and for everyone else in the bar to be annoyed by the "high roller." I thought it was funny. Again, I told them I was not rich, just reckless with money. I was also trying to butter up the waitrresses, who were extremely cute in their own special ways.

For tonight I was going to try to pick up some waitresses to come back to the room. I took the girls aside and asked if they would be interested in coming by when they got off work. They said they would think about it.

I offered to buy another full round. Now I know for a fact most fo these girls do not get real "drinks." They probably get a bigger cut for getting apple juice instead of, say, tequila. So, when the waitress brought me my ticket for the second round, I looked at it and started laughing. The total number of girls in the bar apparently went from 32 to 55 in less than an hour. I stood up and made a bee line for the bar.

They tried to say more girls came on the clock. ORLY??? I turned around and counted. Including the bar staff and the dancer, I counted 32. "They are in the back, sir." "Bring them out," I said. "Sir, they are in the back because they are tired and asleep."
"You're full of shit," I told them. I politely told them that they would take my tab back down to 32, and I would politely pay my tab and go elsewhere.

They implored me that there were really more girls, and that they were just trying to help them. I explained to them that A) I am not a retard and that B) The polite thing to do was to inform me that they were increasing my generous purchase by 40%, what made them think that it was okay to do this without asking first? Besides, its not like they actually poured the drinks.

I went over and said goodbye to the girls and told them that I would stay longer, but the people behind the bars are grifters and ruined it for everyone else. I tipped all the girls at my table, and went up and tipped the dancers and waitresses one more time. On the way out, I slipped the waitresses my phone number and left.

Now I was feeling really ill. My stomach was on fire. It was not being drunk. It was not dehydration, as I had been downing water in the hotel like mad. I wanted to hit some more bars and check out some KAreoke and a Ramen restaurant I had heard about, but I felt the urge for a massive vomit and maybe even bowel movement. Public bathrooms are not exactly easy to come by in these parts, so I headed to the hotel.

Going through the bar to the elevator, no less than 4 girls sitting at the bar propositioned me. They must have an agreement with the bar, as usually free lancers are kept out unless they are with someone. This must have been what the bellboy meant on my first nighyt when he said he could find me dates if I wanted. Regardless, I went upstairs and puked, showered, crapped and then passed out. I think it was 1 am.

My cell rang at 5am. Apparently the bar closed early, and the waitresses were downstairs. Holy crap. The desk called and asked if they could escort them up. I said okay. I made sure I was presentable. When the girls got upstairs I apologized for not having refreshments, and offered to take them out to eat and to bring some drinks back. Also, I asked if they got my special request from my note I gave them, and they said yes (wink wink)


The girls in the room. I should note that the girl on the right, as of that particular day, was probably the hottest woman I had ever had in my bed. Their ages were, from left to right, 25, 24 and 20.
Attachment 6811

We go get some food and supplies. The street kids are still awake and mob me. The girls start yelling at them and I tell them to pipe down, the street kids are my homies. I bring them out some ice cream and soda, like I promised before. We head back to the room. My special request??? To bring their cocktail waitress outfits. Yeah, I rock. And the sleepover ensues. Use your imagination, and you will probably be right.

Attachment 6812

Attachment 6813

I slept on the floor and let them have the bed. Actually, I slept on the balcony in case I threw up again. The next morning, we go downstairs ahd have breakfast after they all shower. I am anxiously awaiting for them to ask me for "a tip." But they don't. The oldest one asks me for cab fare, because they do not like taking Jeepneys (jeepneys being slower, hotter and more mugger friendly). Taxi? Taxi fare? I play coy for a second at the breakfast table. Then I give each girl enough money to pay for a year of college.

The ladies leave and I go upstairs to sleep a little longer. As I stand over the kitchen sink filling a glass of water, I bend down to pick up my lighter. Apprarently, being a foot taller than the average Filipino man, I had not been able to read the westerner-unfriendly-placed warning sign under the cabinet but over the sink, hidden in a shadow:

DO NOT DRINK TAP WATER

Great. That's why I am sick. And while I knew that we should avoid the tap water in general in the PI, for some reason I thought a 5 star hotel would maybe have some sort of filtration system. Woe is me. I buy some pepto and other meds from 7-11 and take a nap for a couple of hours, there will be no sightseeing today.

It is now Day 3. I am awaken at around 5 pm by the hotel desk calling me. They say I have a lady who wants to come up, and that she has 3 friends with her. I have no idea who this is, but I am feeling lucky. I tell them to send them up.....

DAY 3

My visitor is Wendy. She brought Lily and 2 other girls who were sisters. OMG. They want to hang out for the day, maybe go dancing and stuff.
I should point out two things now:

As I would find out a few minutes into day 3s conversation, the bar from the previous night was also owned by the monopoly, in fact they shared a dressing room with night one. So all the girls from the first bar had been watching me and sharing intel with bar 2. Otherwise, the waitresses would have probably told me to bugger off, but they knew I was friendly with the wallet. On one hand , this made me mad. On the other, these 4 ladies here tonight would mean I would not have to go on the prowl. And although the original intent was to see different ladies every night, I kind of liked Wendy, and technically I was seeing new girls because of the sisters.
Also, it was like DELIVERY, so how cool is that? They just showed up.

The other thing to point out is that I have no illusion about why these girls are seeking me out, and I am always very clear up front about what my long term intentions are. There was no lying, no promises of green cards or marriage, just politeness, honesty and lots of food and alcohol. Many of these girls live in deplorable, cramped conditions, and the opportunity to stay in an air conditioned room with a guy who does not treat them like dirt and actually feeds them, well, that makes me a rare commodity in Manila. So yeah, save your judgment for someone else.

I decide I want to go to the mall and buy some clothes, as I am visitng a charity the next day. I also want to go to a Jollibee, which of course the girls are all for because Filipinos love the J.

We hit SM mall, one of the two big mall chains in the country. I am the tallest person in the entire facility. Surprisingly few westerners. There are several mediocre entertainment shows ongoing about the mall, with people cramped in to watch them:

Attachment 6814

Attachment 6815

Attachment 6816

These shows were terrible. They were in English, so I knew what was going on. It appeared to be second rate celebrities, and prizes being given away. Things like these remind you how deplorable living conditions are here, you walk around the mall and see very few people with bags. People come to window shop, to socialize, to see famous people. It's sad, but it's kind of endearing. A lot of people were talking to my girls today, and at first I figured it was jkust people they knew. When I commented on this, Wendy told me that women were stopping them and asking them which one of the group was "his fiancee." Wow. I asked her what she told the old ladies, and she just laughed and changed the subject.

I bought all the girls shoes. We also ate a giant bucket of chicken and rice and got ice cream, the 5 of us, at Jollibee, for a whopping $5. This is when I started to realize I was getting screwed at the hotel. Oh well, too late, as tomorrow I moved into the Pimp Room. I was locked in.

Filipinos also have an odd fascination with Paris Hilton. They seem to import the worst of American culture, and the touristy parts of Manila really do cater to the tourist trap concept. After the mall, we walk around some more

Attachment 6817

Attachment 6818

The girls have been asking me on and off "what you want to do tonight" and it didnt sink in until late evening that they were implying that they wanted to know who I wanted to sleep with. Kind of awkward. As much as I would have liked to have my very first 5 some, I was still recovering from my sickness, and the whole sister thing kind of creeped me out. I just kept blowing off the questions.

I should probably talk about the sisters. Louann and, um, I don't remembe the others name. Remember that thing I said about the waitress on the right being the hottest girl ever? Well, that was last night. Louann. Oh my god. Oh my god. Aside from the 1980s Madonna attire, which I can forgive because she is probably poor, this girl was incredible. and 19. I am going to hell:

Louann (left) and her sister:
Attachment 6819

So, we go hit some Kareoke bars. Apparently, westerners in Kareoke bars are like black guys in a Klan rally, because were it not for my lady escorts, I think I would have not been served and maybe even ganked. We then went to a sports bar that had midget westling, male and female. I later found out that you could EWR the midget wrestlers to hire for the night, male and female. Wow. There are some places even I will not go.

Louann and Lily, at the hotel resto
Attachment 6820

The girls also wanted to stop by their bar. I was not fond of this, but whatever. I honestly think they just wanted to show me off. Filipinos are all about status and "saving face" etc, and it is a strange culture. For example, if you invite a girl to dinner, don't be surprised if she brings her family. That's just how it is, and people who do not understand this come off like pricks from seemingly innocent behavior by the locals.

So we hit the bar and there is a show going on

Attachment 6821

Apparently all 4 girls work here. Even the sisters. The manager is actually trying to sell us Lady Drinks and get me to EWR more girls. They have no shame. It is very clear to my ladies that the manger is bugging me. No, damnit, I don't want a massage, jeebus quit touching me. I run to the bathroom to get away from her, while I am at the urinal a dude walks up behind me and starts massaging me. WWWTTTFFFFF. Okay, I tip him well, because his job sucks. Wow. A bathroom massuese in a club with no customers.

The girls know I want to leave and start aksing me again about my "plans." I ponder a bit, and try to figure out how to say this, and finally just say I want to play naked twister with Louann. Silence. They don't know Twister. Louann says "You boom boom me?" OMG. "Wait," I tell them, "You can all come up, I want to party and I like your company." I actually mean this. Also, I don't want to send anyone home empty handed. Well, they did get shoes and chicken and ice cream. But still, I want them all to come up to the room for a bit.

We retire the the room.
Attachment 6822

I pick up some movie pirates from the little dude selling by the door. The girls insist on Alvin and The Chipmunks. We watch Avlin, drink beer, drink Tequila, chain smoke, and everyone takes turns telling me about their lives. I answer the same questions over and over. The drunker we get, the dirtier their questions get. At this point, I realize that Lily and Louanns sister are lesbians (or Bi, whatever). This dilemma just got deeper. Regardless, I was set on Louann, and the sister thing creeped me out.

If you follow my posts on these forums, you know I am no stranger to casual sex and lowered standards in the midst of drink, but I just cannot do the sister thing. They seem almost upset. When I tell them I will pay their taxis home and give them 1000 pesos for spending the day with me, their attitudes change. I also offer to rent them a room for the night, as I know there are vacancies. Seeing as how they are lesbians, and probably don't get a lot of private places to practice in their Catholic society, they jump all over this. Or, maybe they just wanted a nice bed and a hot shower. I make them promise not to eat or drink any thing from the mini bar so I dont get screwed on prices, and they agree. We go downstairs and rent thier room.

At this point, I am not sure what I was thinking with Wendy. I just assumed she would roll with Lily and Louanns sister. I had made it clear that I wanted to spend the evening with the EXTREMELY HOT BROWN ISLAND GIRL HALF MY AGE, maybe talk politics and watch some Sponge Bob and play Scrabble. But Wendy did not stay in the new room as we left. She followed us back to my room.

I was procrastinating addressing the situation. I was a little tipsy. Hoping she would just leave, I gave her 1000 pesos and told her thanks for the company, and went out to the balcony to smoke. Be advised, I really, really liked Wendy. She made me laugh. Her English was great, and she got my sense of humor. And she was smart as a whip.

She followed me out on the balcony, and with big puppy eyes, asked if I wanted her to leave. I shrugged my soldiers and said it was getting late, and that I thought Louann was very attractive and would like to get intimate with her, seeing as how Wendy and I had already been together a couple of nights ago. Wendy nodded her head and said that she knew this, and proceeded to say "But I want to Watch."

I let her stay.

Another photo of Louann.
Attachment 6851

Day 4

Today I actually have plans to do something descent and wholesome, and it is not my intent to drink. Didn't work out the way I planned.

Louann cut out very early in the morning. Probably had a boyfriend to get home to. Girls that hot are born with boyfriends. Anyway, Wendy and I sleep in. She has to work the next few days and asks me to stop by. I let her know again that I do not like her bar, and it seems to hurt her feelings. I tell her to keep in touch and that we will see each other again. I ask if she wants to go to the orphanage with me today, and she says that she can't because she has to take a trip across town to her apartment and be into work early.

Hit some shopping strips. Met an adorable little lady named Cyndy, we had coffee and I told her about Afganistan because apparently, I "looked Army" which was why she approached me. She asked me about what I had been doing since I had been there, and asked how many girls I had met. I laughed and was completely honest with her, told her I had partied with several different groups and was just looking to go crazy and get away from the warzone. I asked her if she wanted to go out later but she had plans already, and aksed if I wanted to do somethign the next day. I said heck yeah. She mentioned she had friends, which I took as either her setting me up to entertain her entire family, or that she had girlfriends who needed money. Either way, didn't really matter to me. Told her I had the penthouse at the hotel, but I don't think it set in. We exchanged numbers. I do end up seeing her the following day.


So.... this orphanage. I am not going to say the name, because of the other things that I am writing here. But I will tell you about the charitable organization that I was originally going to visit. You see, there is this Protestant charity that "helps" Filipinos that is run by Tim Tebows parents. They take missions from the US to their compound in the Philippines, where they go around and do nice things and witness to people in what is really just a bunch of people patting themselves on the back while paying the CEO of the charity 6 figures and using the organization as a tax shelter. Am I being harsh? Well, they charge each participant of their "missions" $2000 for a 5 day trip to the PI, half of which is pure profit based on my calculations. And just in case you think I am exaggerating, I am currently housed next to a young man from my unit whose girlfriend recently returned from one of these missions, and I had the opportunity to sit down and discuss Manila with her.

Now, her being a proper Baptist and all, I did not tell her much detail about my extracurricular activities, but she gave great detail about hers. Let me say, when a naive, ultra conservative whitebread blonde college cheerleader from texas says that the charity trip she went on was an absolute sham, well, I would say that charity has issues.

And FYI, its got to be an American-owned charity to use it for a tax writeoff if you are American

Anyway, I ruled them out fairly early on. I was set to visit a Catholic Orphanage, run by Filipinos. I would rather it not be religous, but as long as they help kids I could care less. It was convenient for when I would be in Manila and where I was staying. They knew I was coming. The day was set in stone, although I had not made any commitments as to what I wanted to do. Rather, I hadn't told them.

What I WANTED to do, was to rent a childrens entertainment group to come to the charity for the day, with a moon bounce, clowns, singers and refreshments. I had the troupe picked and had put down a $100 deposit for an open-ended retainment fee.

I pitched this idea to father corncob ass, and he immediately shot it down. He said the kids had studies all week, and that it owuld be a distraction. I let him know that I did not need to be present, this was not me trying to get pats on the back from little kids, for all the kids knew father corncob ass paid for it. He still shot me down. He didnt even want to give me a tour because apparently the big fat westerner would distract the kids. It's not like he didnt know I was coming. I guess I wasnt famous, so they would not accomodate me.

I got a pic (from the hill, which deosnt really show anything because of the trees. Hell, had I not seen the website myself and videos and pamplets I wouldnt even believe kids existed. Oh well.

Attachment 6839

Whether or not I understood where he was coming from, it made me no less pissed. I don't know, maybe these kids had behavior problems. But really I think hew as just being a stuffy bible beater. He solicited me then and there to give him the money that I would have spent on the troupe (around $600 USD) but I declined and said I would try alternate methods. This weas me distrusting him because A) he was clergy and B) He was in the Philippines, where grift is a way of life for many and C) my first person accounts from Afghanistan tell me that authority figures cannot be trusted.

Anyway, to re-iterate, this was not about me being recognized for what I did. In fact, publicity undermines the good deed. So I asked a few questions about their facilites, asked questions about their kitchen facilities, turns out they had adequate cold storage, and I used what had been my Plan B all along. I took a cab to a nearby grocery wholesaler and I sent the orphanage @ $700 of rice, chicken, beef, sugar and crayons. If there is one thing I learned from Afghanistan, it's that kids need crayons.

I requested a confirmation of delivery, and visited father corncob ass when I passed through manilla 10 days later coming back from Cebu. He was grateful and finally offered me that tour. I didn't take it. Attention undermines the good deed.

So.....

The It's only like 5 pm now. I have to move to my new room tonight, the Pimp Room, but that will take all of 10 minutes. Also, my security guy will be in touch with me this evening.

So I head back and move to the Penthouse. Now, on some of the PI boards on which I am a member, I extended my invite to expats and tourists who may want to get together and party in the Penthouse, and remarkably enough, no one bit. I suppose perhaps they thought I was trying to plan some big gay sex orgy. But more likely they simply do not like me because I admonish and insult them all the time for the way they act in the PI and the way the treat the girls. Of course, some guy who haggles with a hooker over $20 isn't exactly someone I want to party with, but that was not who I was inviting. I was actually hoping to have a big giant party, what with my enormous 2 bedroom, 3 bathroom double decker hotel room with a MFing karaoke machine. But no, hadn't heard from anyone, other than the charity and a couple of my potential business interests.

The view from the penthouse is incredible. I have access to the roof up here. The entire floor is mine. It better be, for $250 a day.

Attachment 6840

Attachment 6841

Attachment 6850

Also, the desk informs me they are sending up my karaoke machine, and will hook it up for me. While I am plotting my next move and jumping on all the beds and running around my enormous suite naked while practicing karaoke with my wireless mic, the security guy shows up. I get dressed and bring him in and lay down the rules. Basically, no booze, and I want him at my place from 8 pm to 8 am. I am paying the security company $188 for four 12 hour shifts. I tell him that I will feed him, I will tip him. His name was Angel, skinny kid about 25 years old, I think his shotgun weighed more than he did.

I had no plan. I tried standing on the balcony and singing karaoke down to the girls in the street, but I think 12 stories up was too high for them to notice.

I had a few beers and me and Angel smoked cigarettes and talked about the war in Mindanau. Turns out his uncle is former Army, and used to fight Abu Sayeb down in Davao. He tells me his uncle is manager at a go go bar down the street, and I should go meet him. Really didn't want to go to a go go bar tonight, but Angel tells me this one is not owned by the monopoly. Had seen a couple of other bars -- not owned by the monopoly -- that I heard good reviews about in terms of drink and food prices, and was wanting to hit those.

So I go down to a corner bar well known to be the cheapest bar in the area. I am amazed. The food, the drinks, they are literally 1/4 of what I had been paying. Also, the girls who worked there were as pretty as anywhere else. The EWR was 1/3 of other places, even though that was not what I was after. I was also the most packed bar I had been in so far, packed to the hilt, although most of them seemed to be british and aussie retirees. I asked around, and it turns out a british guy owns this place, and makes a huge profit despite his low prices, because he is such high volume. Makes sense. I also hear that every time the cops do raids, they always come to his bar first, obviously because he is not paying tribute like The Monopoly. this is also when I find out The Monopoly owns my hotel. Lovely.

I ask about any other non-monoply bars and they tell me a few. I hit them, and find one almost as cheap as the british guys bar, but much more roomy, and with a phenomenal stage show. the outfits...the girls....and the food is actually the best western food I have had yet in a bar, and at the best prices. Can't beat a cheeseburger and fries for $1.50. Drinks are cheap, EWR is about half of that of the monoplies..... did I mention the stage show? By far the most elaborate shows. Total Vegas showgirl stuff, mixed with intermittent solo acts with elaborate costumes and model-quality girls. The solo girls were so hot I don't even think they did anything else or worked the floor...

Anyhow, I was mesmerized by a couple of the normal dancer girls. One looked like a total tribal, like she should be cracking coconuts with her teeth, but she was 6 feet tall, had a Cebuano face (you can tell the girls island by their faces)... the other looked Latino, she had long, long curly black hair, the only girl I had seen so far with naturally curly hair.... both were fit and wearing orange go go bikinis, and when they noticed I was checking them out, they acted shy and moved behind a pillar and began peeking around at me.... okay, total school girl stuff, I need to get out of here before I try to take these girls home....

I go to Angels uncles bar. I go in and sit down, and I tell the waitress whats up. This dude shows up and asks to see my military ID. For a second I am thinking he is a terrorist gonna kidnap me and hold me for ransom, but then I remembered I get paid and promoted while captive, so really who gives a frack? Dude sits with me and we talk about the situation on Mindanau and he keeps buying me shots of Jager. I hate Jager. But I don't hate free Jager.

Unlce tries to get me to take a girl and I tell him I am worn out from the previous nights adventures. He tells me that, based on what I had accomplished so far, I should take no less than two girls because he knows I can handle it. Now he is doing this sublte you-aren't-man-enough crap that soldiers do to each other. Whatevs. Give me more free Jager. As a token of my appreciation, I buy all 15 dancers Lady Drinks and buy a masage from the old leper lady by the door.

Two girls come over and sit down. They weren't really my type, but one of them looked like a young Faye Dunaway, and she was hilarious. She was doing the hard sell, and I was laughing my ass off. They were not the ones I would have chosen, in fact, I was so drunk I could not see 20 feet in front of me, so the rest of the dancers could have ben men for all I knew. Anyway, at some point, Faye Dunaway and her tall skinny friend with the Cebuan head ended up leaving with me, and considering it was not closing time, I assume I EWRd them. We ended up at a disco that was so loud it made my head hurt. I needed to go back to the room.

The girl assumed I wa staying in some rat trap. When they saw my room they went nuts and started calling their friends and family and telling them how awesome it was. Angel was waiting for us, I had called him ahead. He did not approve of photos. Also, we are all highly intoxicated, even the girls, and it is like 5000 degrees, so we all look like ass

Looking down from the second floor of my room

Attachment 6842

The girls singing Karaoke

Attachment 6843

Attachment 6844

Attachment 6849

Go Thunderbirds

Attachment 6845

Young Faye Dunaway and I went upstairs and played Scrabble while Cebuano girl butchered Whitney Houston. At one point, she seemed irritated with our absence and began replacing words in songs with "Hey Mother*****s Upstairs", so we took that as a hint to finish our game and go down and keep her company. At this point I was sobering up and wanted Jollibee. It goes without saying they did as well. I asked Angel what he wanted and then off we went.

So far, I had encountered the street kids every day and taken them to buy groceries. Tonight, at this ungodly hour, I only ran in to two of them. I honestly do not know if it was a boy and a girl or both girls. I know for a fact one was a girl, but the other I don't know. Anyway, instead of taking them for groceries, I figured I would invite them to Jollibee to eat with us. This would technically be illegal for me to do it I did not have locals with me, as there are laws against foriegners being with little kids, for obvious reasons.

Attachment 6846

Attachment 6847

Attachment 6848



Obviously, we went for the kids meals. I helped them assemble their toys, and we all had a nice dinner together at 3 in the morning. I went back up and ordered Angels food and got some to-go food for the kids to take to their siblings, or eat it themselves.


The next morning I played scrabble with Cebuano girl in the shower, and Faye posed for pictures on one of my mini-balconies. I gave each lady 4000 pesos, and they both seemed shocked.


Attachment 6838

End Day 4. Day 5 gets crazy.

** originally uploaded the wrong photo of Louann at the end of Day 3, got the right one up now, in case you had any doubt that she was not smokin hot. Pigs


Day 5
Jailbait, Wingman and Baby Drama

In the weeks leading up to my trip I had joined a couple of matchmaking sites. One was a wholesome site that did massive vetting on both parties and is run by a couple of Americans out of Cebu. I was crazy expensive to use, and kind of a sham, and I am not sure if I would recommend it. Basically, they use an anti-human trafficking law to justify never allowing the two parties to exchange contact info. All comms go through the agency, and they charge you for it. The law basically says these agencies have to do background checks and cannot publish the ladies contact info, but can publish the mans contact info after a BG check….., and this agency does not do the check until you physically arrive in the office, when in fact they could do it well before then, and they use this as an excuse to charge you for correspondence. Most of the dates I had lined up proper in Cebu were through this agency, and I did meet some great ladies for sure. The rest of this story when I get to Cebu….
The other site I used was a cheap cam site full of scammers. I talked to a lot of girls in the wee hours in Afghanistan, and almost all of them turned into money scams or lady boys, etc, and only one really seemed genuine. Her name was Jessica, and she was a gorgeous 22 year old. We talked on cam a lot. She looked and acted 22,that’s for sure. In fact, she was very “healthy” if you catch my drift.

Outside the mall, in a high dollar condo community:
Attachment 6856

Attachment 6865

Inside
Attachment 6857

Today was the day to meet her. She had been planning to come to Burgos to my hotel restaurant with a chaperone, but she changed at the last minute due to transportation issues. This should have been a red flag. She wanted to meet me at the mall. Thank the heavens she did not come to my hotel, as that could have gotten ugly. I met them in the late morning.
I got a booth at a pizza restaurant and waited for them to show up. They called me and I met them downstairs. OMG. This girl was like 4 feet tall and looked all of 14 years old. You can’t tell this on a webcam. She was certainly well developed. And she had braces. Holy jesus. They weren’t even dressed like adults, she was wearing a Sponge Bob shirt for gods sake. Also, as you older guys have probably picked up in your decades of ogling, you can often tell a woman’s age by the way she walks and carries herself. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to give them taxi money and tell them to go home and embarrass them in public, so I reluctantly allowed them to follow me upstairs to the pizzeria.

Going up the escalator, a European couple passed us going down. The woman looked at me like I was scum. Can’t blame her. We sat down at the booth and I immediately took out my phone, my camera and my covert recorder and hit record. I asked the girls for their IDs, Which they had promised me they would bring. They didn’t bring IDs. At this point it is a done deal. I make small talk, we order our food. When our food comes, I tell them I will give them taxi money and send them home. They seem shocked. I explain to them the various dangers to foreigners in terms of being in the presence of minors, and how the cops shake down foreigners all the time, even kill them (google Navy Officer murdered in Philipines airport).

Also, outside the pizzeria, there were two security guards now posted. Two men in suits were coming and talking to them, then walking off and returning every few minutes. These guys were obviously plain clothes cops, as I saw one guys gun under his blazer. I point this out to the girls.
They start acting nervous, not unlike a kid about to get in trouble.

As I would later find out from some of the tiny ladies I met, it is entirely plausible these girls were just small, and that they could not afford IDs. But they saidthey “forgot” their IDs, not that they could not afford them. Cindy would later tell me that they might have been too embarrassed to admit they could not afford IDs…… But this was too much of a risk, considering the manner in which I was first introduced to this girl, and the fact that she seemed to have such a hassle getting here to begin with, likely taking a jeepney rather than a taxi, because taxis cannot transport minors without a parents permission. They ate their food, I insisted they take all the leftovers, and I gave them 2000 pesos for a cab ride home, which was about 1950 more than they would need considering they would probably take a cheap jeepney rather than a taxi. I told her to contact me through the chat site and we could set something else up if she brought ID.

They left, I shut off the recorders, and I ordered a coffee while I regained my composure. I exited about half an hour after they left. As soon as I exited, the guards came up and asked me to wait there for a minute. They walked off when the detectives arrived. I immediately pulled out my government ID and recorders and said I knew what this was about.

One guy asked me if I knew how old they were, and I said I did not, and sent them home because they did not have IDs. I also said that I had recorded everything and that in case the recorder malfunctioned that it had a satellite uplink and a copy of the recording was stored on a server in the US. This, of course, was patently untrue and it is a line I use on cops in the USA, in case they decide to try to delete the recording. The two cops consulted for a few minutes in Tagalog after I handed them my recorder, and they then handed it back to me and told me to be more careful next time. The whole thing took about 5 minutes, and they walked away. I immediately went to the bathroom and checked my pants for skid marks.

I had done these dating sites to avoid meeting girls in bars. Obviously, neither option has panned out the way I planned. I got back to the hotel and the bellhop told me that multiple girls had come by to see me. I was dumbfounded. I had no new texts, and he said the girls did not all come at once. Odd. I go upstairs and call Cindy. She wants to meet for a late lunch, at the very mall I just came from. I tell her that is okay, as long as we don’t eat pizza.
We meet. We talk. She is late 20s and looks stunning for a woman her age. The photos from this day make it hard to tell because of her attire, but I would see Cindy again. She was like every cheerleader I ever wanted to date in college, and she was one of those islanders who had no body hair anywhere, which meant she was mesmerized by mine, so the entire time we talked she was playing with my arm hair and leg hair and facial hair.

Attachment 6853


After some forthcoming discussions about what I had done so far and what else I planned to do, I asked her if she wanted to go see a movie or a show, or go have drinks, or go chill at my “modest hotel room.” She picked the room. I think she peed her pants when we arrived in the suite. I gave her the tour, and like the others, she immediately started taking photos with her phone and calling people. It was total cuteness.

We had a few beers and ordered room service and had a few rounds of Karaoke. She told me some stories about some of her past boyfriends, and it turns out that in the past she had dated a few westerners, and they left her jaded and broken hearted, and that she would never make that mistake again. I asked her what she expected of me then, and she said she just wanted Scrabble and a good time with a respectful guy. I asked her if she wanted me to help her financially, and she said that she was not a prostitute. I assured her that this was not what I thought of her, and told her that she should really let me give her some money, because I was not all that good at Scrabble. She laughed and we drank some more.

One of her stories about an Australian boyfriend was heart wrenching. This girl was jaded. She would never trust a man again, and I wasn’t going to try to be that guy, but to be honest I could totally see myself marrying a hot little number like this. She was cute, she was funny and she had taken very good care of herself. Also, she had great shoulders and biceps and muscular legs, which are my favorite parts of woman.

It was surprisingly easy to get her to play Scrabble. In fact, it would be safe to say that she got me to play Scrabble, as her sad stories kind of made me hesitant. Anyway, it was epic. Afterwards, we smoked cigarettes in the roof in our underwear and had a few more rounds of Karaoke. This was when I noticed “My Way” by Frank Sinatra was missing.

Attachment 6854

She really wanted to go to dinner at the hotel restaurant, and I did not want to tell her that I hated that place and it was overpriced. We went downstairs and I had a steak and she ordered – no kidding – the exact same thing every other girl had ordered. It was apparently the most popular local flavor dish on the menu. Also, a particular drink they ordered would get them a free little stuffed animal. I had not noticed this before, but I realized that all the girls I took down here ordered a strawberry swirl and had ended up with a little stuffed turtle or monkey. I had noticed it, but I hadn’t, ya know? So, I ordered one, too, and gave her mine because as it turns out she has an infant son. Her having a son was obvious in our dealings with the street kids, as she pretty much ignored the girls but was very touchy with the boys, she would fix their hair and wipe their faces, just like a mom.

She started giving me the intel on various clubs, some of which I already knew. I told her where I had been already, and turns out the two places I liked the best were the ones that she recommended the most. I asked her about the friends she had mentioned, but she told me they were working. She asked if I could take her to one of these go go clubs to drink and watch dancers. I thought this was kind of strange, but said we could do whatever she wanted. She picked the club where I saw the hot Tribal Girl and the girl with curly hair who looked Hispanic. I laughed, and told her that I had been to that club last night, and had to leave because I was afraid I would take some girls home. She gave me an elbow to the ribs and said “It’s not too late, you pick girls, I negotiate for you.”

I was shocked, and it showed. I had her repeat what she just said. She told me she didn’t care if I picked up other women tonight, that she would watch out for me.

I had a wing man.

We went to this club, which was the second best on prices and the first best on atmosphere, in my opinion. Both of the girls I had seen the previous night were working. Some of the floor ladies, for whom I had bought pity drinks for the night before, stuck to us and followed us around trying to sell us drinks and food. It was rather annoying, but I just smiled and said No Thanks.

After a while of hassling, with me trying to think of how to get the trolls to go away without insulting then, I finally just slipped each girl a healthy tip and told her to please leave me alone, and that my wingman and I just want to chill. They seemed okay with this. I was worried they would tell the others, who would then come and bother me in hopes of getting paid to leave me alone, but it never happened. Again, I would rather do this than buy a Lady Drink, although I wonder if these clubs penalize girls for not making their quotas, like many US Strip Clubs do.

Cindy started asking me who my favorites were and I gave her the run down. Not 5 seconds after I finished, she stood up and walked over to the stage and told the tall Tribal Girl that she was requested at our table. She came over and sat down, her name was Irish. We took shots and made small talk and ordered some food. After half an hour I noticed Cindy had wandered off. I looked around for her, and she reappeared from the dressing room with the Hispanic girl in tow. Okay, now I am wondering if Cindy used to work in a bar. Spanish girl sits down, her name was Alexa. This is unreal. We get lit. I planned on staying there for a while longer because the drinks were cheap and the stage show was entertaining, but as soon as I mentioned Karaoke in my hotel room, these 2 new girls were done with this bar. They called for the tab, I paid the bar to take them out early, and they changed and scooped me up and we made the one mile trek back to my hotel. Irish was very talkative, but had pretty broken English. Alexa would not talk at all and just laughed when I would try to talk to her, but the more shots she took the louder she got, and by the time we were walking home, she was acting like a pissed off Rosie Perez to everyone in the streets but me.

I insisted we stop for some supplies at 7-11. True to form, I took some street kids in with me. Today there were a couple of new ones, and again, they wanted food, not money

Attachment 6855

Upstairs we sang and danced on the balcony and drank and smoked. Angel waited in the hallway like a good trooper.

Attachment 6858


Attachment 6861

Attachment 6862


I am not sure if Irish unseats Louann as the hottest Scrabble player ever. She was so tall, and my god, she really wore those daisy dukes. And she had high cheek bones and a long neck, which I find quite attractive on a woman.
If you do not find the girl on the far right attractive, at least in a jungle princess, head boiling, loincloth wearing, drum beating sort of way, then you are homosexual.

Attachment 6859

Attachment 6863



In case you haven’t figured it out yet, I really don’t know what I like, and I fall in love several times a day.
As for Alexa, she was straight from the village. Apparently I was the first guy to ever take her from the bar. She was very unrefined, even the other girls had a hard time understanding her dialect, and she was rough around the edges. Cindy called her “a savage”, which I thought was even funnier when I caught Alexa taking a dump with the bathroom door open. The other girls seemed to scold her a lot for being messy and unlady-like. When she said something I did not understand and I asked her to repeat it, she would do so by saying it faster, louder and leaning in close to my face, followed by maniacal laughter. She was crazy. She asked if she could take a shower and I said okay. We stayed downstairs and sang until she called for me to come up a little later. I went upstairs and she said she wanted to give me a bath. I really was not ready for Scrabble right now, but some fiery savage from the jungle offering to give me a bath and me saying no…. well I am not gay. There was actually nothing sexual about this. It was a real scrubbing, like a mom would do a dirty kid. Actually, it kind of hurt. She was being really rough. It reminded me of one of those movies where people get radiation contamination and they hose them down and scrub them with the giant brushes. My laughs eventually turned to screams and culminated with me yelling “what are you doing??” to which she just laughed maniacally. After the DECON was finished, I went back downstairs.

Attachment 6860

I think it was 4 am when Cindy said she needed to go home because she had to walk her boy to school. She said she usually does not stay up this late. While she was in the bathroom freshening up, I slipped 5000 pesos into her purse and told her I put some taxi money in there for her. She never checked it in front of me. As she left, Angel stopped her and checked with me to make sure it was okay for her to leave. He does this to make sure no one steals my personal property. I give him the thumbs up, and decide to walk Cindy to the elevator anyway. When we get out there, she thanks me for the good time and I tell her I want to hang out again. She says “maybe …. baby” and gives me a fist pump and another elbow to the ribs. Then she says “That Alexa girl, she crazy, you be careful her”

Back inside, Alexa had been wearing just a towel for the last hour. She had been having secret conversations with Irish, looking at me and then giggling. As I would later find out, when you have multiple girls, they basically talk amongst themselves to decide who is going to stay and who is going to go. I guess Irish lost the coin toss, and she asked if I wanted to go upstairs to watch television, just me and her. I was really not ready for this just yet, considering my skin was falling off my back, but Irish said that she had “doctor in da morning” and that she needed to go soon. She was really twisting my arm with those high cheek bones and butt cheeks hanging out of her jean shorts as she walked up the stairs.

Attachment 6864

Scrabble with her was very different, almost comical, as she liked to say creative things and talk a lot of trash. Keep in mind the locals often replace their Fs with Ps, and their Vs with Bs, and they pronounce short I’s as long E’s. Now incorporate this into filthy bedroom talk. As much as I want to repeat some of the more golden phrases uttered, I will digress. Later, Irish tells me straight up “you give me 2000 towsand peso now.” Okay, well that saves me a dilemma and discussion. It also shows she is a different breed, as the other “bar girls” were kind of coy about the whole deal. Irish was all business, and as I would find out later, she was high mileage. I gave her an extra 1000 for the great language lesson.

Irish leaves and it is just me and Alexa. I take along shower and she goes downstairs to the kitchen and starts cooking and making coffee. After we eat and talk about life and war and what it is like in her province whilst wearing the big white robes provided by the hotel, we decide to turn in. My plan is to go to sleep. I go down and tell Angel to cut out early and tip him.

In the bedroom I try to sleep, but Alexa has other plans. I tell her to wait until morning but she is having none of it. Each time I roll over and settle in, she puts her feet in my back, or hops on top of my, or starts making animal noises in my ear followed by maniacal laughter. It is very playful and eventually I give in. As mentioned earlier, she was somewhat of a savage. Her behavior during Scrabble was no different. She screamed and kicked, she pulled my hair, she fish hooked me, she damn near pulled my ears off a couple of times, she slapped me, she face palmed me, and in short it was an incredible game.

Right up until she stopped me mid game. She pulled me head close to hers, and told me, not asked, but told me to remove the protection, because she wanted a baby.
Oh no. I didn’t want a baby. This did not matter, she wanted one. I told her I could not be a good father 3000 miles away, she told me that she did not want me in the baby’s life, that she just wanted a big white baby. Then the colorful language ensued as to how exactly I was going to give her this.

This was one of the most difficult decisions in my entire life. Right up there with calling in artillery support, or deciding whether or not to shoot the wounded suicide bomber, or picking the starting stats for my Fallout characters.

I should also point out the culture. For those of you who are unaware of the cultures of the pacific islands, both before and after the introduction of Catholicism, the women in this culture are very sexual and many see sex as a status symbol. Furthermore, the women here bleach their skin to look white, and hate their little pug noses, and think that western babies are prettier and fatter and have better noses. Keanu Reeves is half Filipino, nuff said, they worship him.
If you read the stories of the Spanish explorers and their experiences with the natives, you will realize pretty quickly why the Spanish settled here despite a lack of exportable commercial goods, and you will understand why they did not go quietly when the USA went to throw them out. Dating back to pre colonial times, explorers were offered sex in exchange for trinkets, because the trinkets showed a woman to be more desirable and thus improved her status amongst her peers. Groups of explorers typically had fewer men leaving than arriving. Almost every last name in the PI is of Spanish heritage.

Anyway, she wanted a baby, and she wanted it from me. She assured me that she did not want me in her babies life, and that all the women in her family were single moms who would kick their husbands out if they were not abandoned first. This did not make me feel any better. At one point, mid-Scrabble, she grabbed me by both hears, pulled my face an inch from here, and while locking me in the death grip of her thighs screamed at the top of her lungs “I WANT BABBY NOW!!!”.
I could not do it. The game went cold. She rolled over and cried. I tried to console her, and we both fell asleep.

A few hours later I woke up in time to catch the sunset. I reheated the coffee and sat on the roof and smoked. Alexa came out and sat with me, seemingly unbothered by what had happened a few hours earlier.

She was back to her normal self, burping and farting and laughing about it. I apologized and tried to explain myself further, and she cut me off by saying “blah blah give me baby or shut up.” Point taken. We went downstairs and had some overpriced food. I asked her plans for the day, and she said she was off and spending it with her family, who were coming in from the province to spend time with her. She asked if I wanted to meet them, and against my better judgment, I said yes, since I only had one thing on the agenda for today around 1 pm, and that was to meet with a potential franchiser.

Attachment 6866

I had the desk call a car and I tried to give her money, but she said she didn’t want it. I slipped 3k into her purse and would text her after she left in the car about where to find it. Before she left, we went back to the room to get her stuff, and she pinned me to the deck, all 95 pounds of her, and said that this was to make up for the drama a few hours earlier, and that a baby could wait. We played scrabble on the roof under the morning sun.


End day 5/Begin Day 6

Subsequent updates will be posted as new replies to thread

Enough with the placeholders and get to work already!!

I am eagerly waiting!!

From the angle of the Wendy shots, I estimate you to be 5'11.

And what a character! This reads like a Dos Equis commercial.

You'll see plenty of tall girls in Korea, which is not far from where you're at if you take a plane.

Here are some girls whom I met in Korea:

https://i1057.photobucket.com/albums...a/0bf5bbd2.jpg
I met them at a club.
We went to a beach in Haeundae, Busan two weeks later.

https://i1057.photobucket.com/albums...a/448f7c99.jpg
They introduced me to their friends at a restaurant.

https://i1057.photobucket.com/albums...a/a04b5cb9.jpg
I met more of their friends at a karaoke.

Why cant I get the full photo to upload, instead of thumbs.... I mean, probably better I do thumbs anyway since I have like 200 more pics and 12 more days to go

Never stop posting...

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by PanzerJaeger

Never stop posting...

---

^ what he said.

Great read. I just can't manage to find these girls attractive though, major handicap for a tall blond blue-eyed teuton such as myself as it would open up up plenty of opertunity.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Fragony

^ what he said.

Great read. I just can't manage to find these girls attractive though, major handicap for a tall blond blue-eyed teuton such as myself as it would open up up plenty of opertunity.

---

You havent seen the best yet. If you do not think at least 2 of the girls from Cebu are stunning, then you, my friend, are a homo. That update is far off, though, as this is taking longer than I thought.

I'm not gay just mildly bi-curious. Let's see what you got but I doubt it will change my opinion on Asian women, they are so girly

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Major Robert Dump

Wendy, 4'10", 27 years old
Attachment 6800

Attachment 6801

Attachment 6802

---

Wow!

I didn't sleep with the Korean girls I posted in my earlier comment. The relationships were more of a friend thing so they acted a bit conservative.

Kind sir, I was friends with all of these ladies and perhaps a greater gentleman than the had ever encounterd.

And I did not "sleep with" these ladies. We had Sleepovers and Played Scrabble. Sometimes 3 or 4 of us at once.

Oh yes! Then we almost had similar experiences. Don't get me wrong. I'm enjoying your story and I wish I did the same with the girls I met.

Ay friend-zone my sympathies

Nice vacation, Dump. It like it how wildly varies in wholesomeness.

Those "sisters" were probably fake, no? Different skin colour and stuff...?

My brother has different skin tone from my sister and myself. We have mothers, he has fathers. The only way you can tell all three of us have the same parents is our blond hair and blue eyes are all very similar.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by lars573

My brother has different skin tone from my sister and myself. We have mothers, he has fathers. The only way you can tell all three of us have the same parents is our blond hair and blue eyes are all very similar.

---

I'm not saying it's impossible for siblings to not look alike...

I am saying that in the arena of women after money, pandering to male fantasies is economically efficient. There just aren't as many sisters on the island of Lesbos as some would believe ;)

With that said, MRD might of course well have met two sisters into it. He is way more capable than me to answer it for obvious reasons. I'm just putting the question out there...

Will go on reading soon....

GREAT STUFF SO FAR!!!!

Made me consider bringing a cam and a notepad next time I wear ski instructor clothes...

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Kadagar_AV

Those "sisters" were probably fake, no? Different skin colour and stuff...?

---

I asked if they were symbolic sisters, like sorority etc, or for realz sisters and she said different fathers
Lots of absentee western fathers of people here,
light skin is sought after, they think dark skin is ugly, she may have been a bleacher

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Kadagar_AV

I'm not saying it's impossible for siblings to not look alike...

I am saying that in the arena of women after money, pandering to male fantasies is economically efficient. There just aren't as many sisters on the island of Lesbos as some would believe ;)

With that said, MRD might of course well have met two sisters into it. He is way more capable than me to answer it for obvious reasons. I'm just putting the question out there...

Will go on reading soon....

GREAT STUFF SO FAR!!!!

Made me consider bringing a cam and a notepad next time I wear ski instructor clothes...

---

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Major Robert Dump

I asked if they were symbolic sisters, like sorority etc, or for realz sisters and she said different fathers
Lots of absentee western fathers of people here,
light skin is sought after, they think dark skin is ugly, she may have been a bleacher

---

And I got it answered :)

EDIT: "Bleaching" I never heard about, except Michael Jackson.. Don't get me wrong MRD, I am not questioning You, I ask questions TO you, as I am honestly interested!!

The bleachy face thing is very common here for girls going out. Even the lighter skinned sisters face is brighter. I don't know if this is them trying to look white, or if they are pandering to the other asian men by doing this.... personally I think it looks horrible, makes them look like clowns... never saw this in the daytime around town, only with ldies who were dolled up for the nightlife

I love that there are 10 more days of this to go.

This has turned out to be a bit longer than expected. Maybe should have just posted the photos. My "labor day weekend project" looks like it will carry over into next week

So far Photobucket has not impressed me, as it has gone down twice now since I started this project yesterday. This is me testing an upload from the PC.

Don't believe my hotel room was awesome? That is a phone in the bathroom. I ordered room service while taking a dump. Your welcome.

I am morbidly curious how the rest of this goes. This is the most bizarre and fantastic thread in a long, long while.

Attachment 6897Day 6(Days 1-5 at beginning of thread)


I take a quick nap after Alexa leaves and after I text her where to find the money. I head downstairs around lunch and chill in the lobby.

Attachment 6881

I started talking to the staff yet again. I knew them all by name, and some were rather candid, and it was not uncommon for one person to have relatives at another place nearby or even in the same establishment. Over the past few days I had talked a lot to workers and managers at various types of venues, usually asking about salaries, hours, who owned the establishment, etc. One thing I always did when asking about salary was to never ask that person their own, I always asked someone else who would know. This is because if someone thinks you are about to give them money, the may exaggerate how little they make. I learned this from dealing with corrupt elders in Afghanistan. Anyway, one thaing that really grated me was when I found out that the two cheap bars I had been to actually give the girls 50% cuts of their lady drinks and 50% cuts of their EWRs, whereas the Monopoly bars give 20% on drinks and zero on EWRs, yet their prices were literally 3-4 times higher across the board. This irritates me because the pricier a venue, the less the average cheap charlie customer will end up tipping. Think of it like the delivery fee when you order from Dominoes, virtually none of which goes to the driver, but people assume it does so they justify not tipping.

Meanwhile, the Monopoly prices are virtually the same at every bar, and way too high. Yes, away from the strip it is much cheaper, but also much more dangerous out at night alone. I am not exaggerating the danger level to foreigners. Do not fight back in a mugging. Do not intervene in disputes between locals. The "saving face" thing here is huge, so if you beat a guy down -- even if he is in the wrong to begin with -- dont be surprised when he returns and stabs or shoots you. Guns are easy to get, there is a reason they have armed guards even at a church or an orphanage. If you make yourself look like you have money you are a target, and many of the thugs here are highly illiterate and ignorant and think all westerners are rich. One can buy a "Hit" for about $20 USD.

From my travels and "business eetings" around the area, it appears the Monoploy owned every go go bar but 4. I went to all but one of those 4, and I went to about 10 total monoploy bars, usually just for a quick beer and to ogle and maybe buy a few girls drinks.

While getting a tour of the kitchen at the bar restaurant, which had a retro gas station theme and was named accordingly, I finally got to meet one of the owners. I had seen this woman around, and assumed she was a tourist. She was a fat, butchy American woman in her 50s. She was always scowling. When she caught me in the kitchen, she became very irate to the kitchen manager until she was told that I was the guy in the Penthouse, then her attitude changed and she asked me what I did for a living. I told her I was in the pest control industry, and she said "oh, you must do very well" to which I responded "lotta stuff needs killin" and pushed by her in the narrow kitchen. I was really not much interested in talking to he because she seemed like an ass, and I had actually worked on that answer ahead of time, as it was somewhat creepy and not altogether untrue.

And believe it or not, I was intersted in their kitchen facilites. I wanted to see what a standard layout was, the cleanliness, the tools used


Attachment 6882

I headed a couple miles into Makati to meet with my franchiser friend.
Apparently in the PI, it is okay to drive recklessly as long as you blare your horn over and over and over again. It was all one constant game of chicken. I always tried to tell my drivers that I was in no hurry, but this never worked, as apparently they were always in a hurry. It really is ridiculous. Bumper to Bumper. Motorcycles on the sidewalks. If a cab picks you up and you tell him you are going the other way, he will make a U TURN through 8 lanes of gridlocked traffic, blaring his horn, all cars an inch from your face, instead of going one block, using a light and turning around. The traffic cops are ignored wholesale.

Also, helmet laws are only enforced against westerners, as are most traffic laws, presumably because the westerners can pay a bribe to be let go.

Attachment 6883


Attachment 6884

Attachment 6885





The Franchiser was with a north american pizza franchise that you have likely never heard of. It did quite well here. Dine in, typical lay out, same quality as back home but 1/4 the price in terms of what is sold. What dumfounded me was how they could not only charge western franchise fees for the set up, but also a higher-than-the-same-eatery-in-the-west franchise fee (the monthly tribute). It seemes like with leveraged currency this would not be the case. Maybe I just don't understand. But basically, it would cost me the same to open one in Manila as it would to open one in Pheonix. This being the case, why Franchise at all? Name recognition? Bah, that is not worth 30% of my profits, and the people in a commercial, consumer society like this are easy to manipulate. They buy PAris Hiltin albums for gods sake. Didn't know Paris Hilton mademusic? Me neither, not until I came here.

I can sell pizzas without the franchise. This guy swore by it. He did not necessarily like the company, and was not doing a hard sell on me, but the sheer volume he did with a mix of clientele ensured he lived a very comfortable life, even with the 30% tribute. He told me he paid the franchise fee of in 3 years. His store was in a very busy business district, near some colleges and on the route to and from the mall, so he got the business crowd and the youth crowd, and closed at 9pm because there were really no noghtlife seekers in the area. At least not for the types of bars where the customers can afford pizza. Anywhere you go in Manila, you will find shanty bars occupied by what appears to be professional alcoholics, eating food that looks like broiled lizards pulled from the lagoon.

And speaking of colleges. Most of the colleges have dress codes. And nursing schools are huge. So, in areas where colleges exist, you wills ee random mobs of young asian women either dressed as nurses or dressed in the Catholic School Girl uniform. Go ahead and catch your breath, I will wait.

I had some pizza with my franchise friend and he invited me to go out with he and some of his western business owner friends to an event they were having at one of his friends clubs. I took a rain check and said I may catch them when I come through after Cebu. The main reason I did this was because I had a $250 per night room and intended to use it, and I hadnt really come here to party with americans at american bars. And for the record, the nightclub business is one I am defintely not interested in. In retrospect I probably gone since I was here to network, maybe taken one of my new lady friends as a date, as I could only imagine the impression Alexa would have made with her farting and burping and talk of BABBY. That would have been epic, but I probably would hae taken Wendy or Cindy to be safe.

Speaking of, Wendy has sent me texts pretty regular the last couple days, some of them sort of corny and others just small talk. She does want to see me again, but I politely text her back that I do not want to come pay some outrageous EWR to get her off work. She appears to be giving me the "if you dont take me, someone else might" type guilt trip. It's not working. She also has a bad habit of texting me good morning texts very very early, when I have just gone down to sleep, which I find irritating. Alexa, meanwhile, has texted me about 50 times so far today, about the meal I am having with her family.

I go to the hotel room to relax. My bathroom has a phone

Attachment 6893

Apparently I am picking the place where I am eating with Alexs family. I assume this means I am paying, which is fine. Alexa tells me, as best she can in her broekn english, that her family knows tht she works in a bar so there is no need for me to lie about the circumstances of how we met. Okay. I pick a Japanese Ramen restaurant that I have heard good things about, and it is a short cab ride up the road.

So far, virtually EVERY cab driver I have encountered has asked me if I am looking for a date, a wife, or a girlfriend. About half of them offered me drugs, to include Shabob, which is basically meth. Obviously, I always passed on these offers, but as of day 6 and about a dozen cab rides, every single driver has tried to play match maker.

At the Ramen house is Alexa, her two sisters and one of her sisters sons. We order and have a nice discussion over dinner. The son, about 16, is from a Japanese father who mom has not seen in 10 years. She seems to not care, and tells me she does not want to see him, and that she does not need him. I find this awfully convenient considering what had happened between Alexa and I the previous night, but this kid was definitely half something other than Filipino. He looked like a Japanese kid, and was alot taller than the local boys his age. I wanted to ask him how he felt about his dad not being around, I was genuinely curious, but he was too busy walking around the restaurant and flirting with some teenage girls at another table. Regardless of what mom, any mom, wants in this case, I am just not sure about bringing a kid into this world and then not being a part of their lives. I dunno, maybe Filipino culture is better equipped for that, whereas in the USA it is a good way to mess a kids mind up, as is reflected in the number of criminals who come from single parent homes.

Cindy texts me and tells me she is at the hotel, which was completely not part of te plan. I was not planning on spending the night with Alexa, and planned on seeing Cindy after we made plans. I told her to go do something that I would be an hour. I talked some more the the family, and it turns out they own a good chunk of loand on the coast and raise small livestock. By Filipino standards, they seem to be upper-middle class, but due to their location in relation to urban development, they still use an outhouse, cook outdoors and bathe in a river. It is wierd, their home they show me pics of is enormous, well furnished, with computers and internet... but they bathe outdoors. I asked why no inside kitche and they said because of the heat, it is cheaper to cook outside and it saves on their cooling bill.

As we are wrapping things up and I am flagging a taxi to take the family home, it becomes apparent the the sisters expect Alexa to go with me. The older one (the one without the kid) says some thing in Alexas ear and she laughs. They get in the cab and I decide I want to walk back, since it is a cool night. I ask Alexa what her sister said, and she tells me her sister was saying that after I got Alexa pregnant to send me sisters way. Wow, thats awkward. And no thanks.

I text Cindy and tell her I am bringing Alexa. She texts me back the "eyes rolling" symbol. When I arrive and meet her in the lobby she tells me that she was hoping to bring one of her friends tonight, and that Alexa was going to put a crimp in those plans. I don't see why, and I suggest we go get her friend anyway. She tells me her friend is already on the way. Turns out her friend works as a dancer at the cheapest bar on the strip, the one owned by the Brit. Apparently, the EWR is so cheap, and the girls get 50% anyway, that the dancers frequently just pay half their own EWR when they want to get off work early. It seems wierd that this girl I have never met has already paid 500 pesos just to come meet me, and I make a note to remember to pay her back.

Tonight I decide it is best to not drink. I expect there to be some more baby drama, and quite frankly I do not know if I can resist this crazy curly haired girl another night, let alone drunk. The friend, Daisy, shows up. She is short and loud. Her voice is kind of high pitched and annoying. Pretty nonetheless, but no so much my type, which is fine, because tonight I just want to lounge and babysit drunk girls.

We end up going to watch a movei at the mall. It was the Vampire vs Werewolf movie with that hot MILF, cannot remember the name right now, and the movie was terrible, but the girls seemed to like it. We played some games in the arcade and headed back towards the hotel.

We made the obligatory 7-11 stop. The typical rugrats were there, along with what appeared to be an older sister, about 12 years old. We go in and load up on groceries. As we leave, I snap some pics, most of which were out of focus, but I got one of the girl. Obviously, I am concerned about a girl this age wandering the streets at night. And I believe she has blue eyes. This kind of breaks my heart, and re-assures me that I will not be playing baby scrabble with Alexa tonight, no effing way.

Attachment 6894

Upstairs it is more of the usual. Except tonight I am texting back and forth and calling another potential business associate, this guy being half owner of a disco. While I am not interested in a nightclub, he also partially owns some of the adjacent buildings and the area is a good off-the-grid nightclub spot. He tells me the neighborhood is not too bad, the majority of customers are locals, and it is the choice venue area for the college crowd and young professionals. We are planning on meeting the following night and going to this club. I ask if I can bring some dates, and he says most certainly because he is bringing his girlfriend. I am thinking maybe he didn't notice date(s) was plural.

Attachment 6896



Attachment 6895

Attachment 6880

Attachment 6886

Attachment 6887


Attachment 6888

Attachment 6889

Attachment 6890

Attachment 6891



Attachment 6892


A few of Cindy and Daisy's friends stopped by intermittently, I chain smoked on the balcony, the girls got more nd more rowdy thanks to Tequila, and we ordered room service several times. Eventually when they started to pass out, I helped them upstairs. I think they pre planned that Alexa would sleep in my bed and Daisy and Cindy would stay in the second bedroom. Honestly, the bed in the main room was big enough for all 4 of us, so I saw where this was going, and tonight I was not interested. I planned on going to sleep sober, getting 8 hours of sleep, and waking up sober. I explained this to Alexa and she was very displeased, and we had a repeat of the previous night sans the scrabble. At some point when I was asleep, the went out and bought groceries, came back to bed, and woke up and made breakfast for everyone in the morning, some rice and shrimp concoction smothered in hot peppers that was the last thing I should have eaten forst thing in the morning, but I was living reckless, and my toilet had a telephone, so I would be okay.

** damn these atachments, fixing now
** wtf why do the pics work then not work

Polar opposite of my approach but there is nothing wrong with that.

It's honest, heart wrenching, funny and a grab life by the throat attitude. As is you could make it into a short story or serial and publish an ebook... At least you could claim the trip then as a tax deduction if it sells enough, spin out some of the earnings to charity too.

If you could put as much of the Afghan and US sides in you would have a novel about how you are on this journey. Keep writing and get this published.

Awesome (th)read!

:bow:

This is a great read. Keep it up. I echo Papewaio's words about writing as well. :2thumbsup:

Are you still in San Antonio?

Thread makes for a fun read, keep updating MRD! :yes:

dbl post

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Strike For The South

Are you still in San Antonio?

---

yeah, still in SA

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Major Robert Dump

I was living reckless, and my toilet had a telephone, so I would be okay.

---

Ahhaha.

Love the stories and pics. :2thumbsup:

I read through the entire thread for the first time not noticing what scrabble meant... Until you said that you played scrabble in the shower I was completely clueless:on_wait:.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Memnon

I read through the entire thread for the first time not noticing what scrabble meant... Until you said that you played scrabble in the shower I was completely clueless

---

I kept waiting for the phrase "triple word score" to come up. ~D

In an odd coincidence, the wiki article for Scrabble has a pic of the Tagalog version. :inquisitive:

Quit the dang jaw jacking and let the man get on with the story!

Dude. Sorry to play mom but, OPSEC!

And, yes, don't feed the trolls. Excellent stories. :2thumbsup:

Day 7

5 is a Crowd, Beans and Franks, Dance Party 2012, Punking Drunk Sonny Bono

This is my last night in Manila before I go to Cebu on the heels of the Cebuano Fertility Festival. In retrospect, maybe it is a good thing I missed the party.

I give all three girls 3000 pesos for their company, which they coyly said they did not want since we did not play scrabble, but whatever. Paying them is my barrier, regardless of what happens. I know Cindy does not require this, as she shot down my talks of romance from the get-go. Daisy I do not know about, but I want to square her anyway since she took off work to come play. But Alexa definitely does, if for no other reason than to stave off the baby fever. Meeting her family gave me the creepies.

Before the three girls leave in the morning, I invite them all out to disco this night, to my friend's club. Alexa has to work. I offer to EWR her, but she does not want it. I don’t know, maybe she thinks she will make more money if she works. Or, maybe she is playing that game that women play where they say one thing, but mean another, and I am supposed to beg and plead and fight, which, incidentally, is exactly why I prefer escorts over dating back home. Or not, maybe I am reading into this.
Anyway, I wish her a good day at work and wait downstairs with each girl as we hail their cabs.

Cindy and Daisy agree to go to the disco. I call Wendy and she has to work. I offer to EWR her, and she says “Yes!” Finally, no games. This one is strong in the force.

I do not have much planned for the daylight hours. In retrospect, I should have been better about organizing and charging my cameras, as I often found myself without due to dead battery. I brought 3 and my picture folders are a convoluted mess due to not being chronological. I am missing a lot of great photos. OThers I cannot upload due to promising not to or, as Vladmir put it, OPSEC. I am greatly disappointed in myself. Drink less, remember more.

Here is a photo I took downstairs of the street outside the hotel bar. This is a crazy lady who stands in the street, and as cars go by she points at the car, does a blowjob pantomime, then starts laughing. She is obviously mentally ill and probably diseased as well, due to her low body mass. People seemed to ignore her wholesale, and when I attempted to snap a photo, I got disapproving looks from some of the staff. Street solicitation is illegal, but I guess the cops do not take her seriously enough to care. She was there every day. In the same place, all day, doing the same thing. I would like to know her story. She is obviously either mixed race or an immigrant

Attachment 6907


While actually trying to find a story about her online, I found this video. Sad.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ztl4LXXDmqs

Cindy and Daisy come by in the early evening. I planned on picking Wendy up from her club, but she shows up. She says that she paid her own EWR. I did not know if this was her trying to appear “independent” and save me money, or if she presumed I would pay her back for the EWR. Regardless, I planned to pay her back plus the normal tip, because that was the plan all along.

Later in the evening, Cindy gets me alone and says that Wendy called in sick, and that she is just trying to milk me for some extra money. This does not make me mad, as I cannot blame a girl for trying to squeeze some extra cash from the dumb guy being reckless with money. But I do wonder if it is true. Not just the calling in sick part (probably true, since she just showed up), but the part about milking me for more cash. Still, she may have just been trying to save me money, and Cindy may have been jumping to conclusions. I never bothered to ask.

It is not uncommon for girls to take their taxi money and end up riding a cheaper Jeepney and pocket the difference, which is why they prefer to hail their own “cabs” and usually walk around the corner to do so. I would also find out that many of the girls I hailed cabs for would ride a few blocks, pay the driver, get out, and hail a Jeepney. Again, I could care less, although this appears to bother a lot of men who seem to think that all Filipinos are out to get them. I refuse to get bent around the axle over such a trivial amount of money.

I am still fairly exhausted from the previous days, but I am feeling a bit excessive and decide I want a number four to my entourage, someone new. I expect to die soon, and I want to flabbergast my friend. I also want to make a scene at the club we are going to. I ask the girls if they have any friends who would like to join us. Much to my surprise, none of them did today, as all their friends were either working or babysitting

I asked how we should go about getting a 5th wheel. Daisy recommended her bar, but I really did not want to go into another go go bar right now. Wendy recommended trolling the malls and Cindy just said to pick some random girl on the streets, working girl or otherwise.
I decided I would invite one of the random street vendors who hocked wares on the streets. Not uncommon for men and women to try to sell trinkets, movies, Viagra, cialas, watches etc. As we walked towards the taxi hub I saw a girl selling roses. I had seen her a few nights before. She was older, 30, tall and exotic looking, which for here in Normal. She has the Northern Island look. Very much girl next door for this place. I bought each of my dates roses and asked if she wanted to join us for the evening. I was really surprised this worked, but it did. Enter Gracie.

I should note that Wendy and Cindy had not met before tonight, but they seemed to get along just fine. Fine enough for Wendy to tell Cindy she called in sick, if that was a true story. Or maybe Cindy knew someone at Wendy’s bar. Again, I got the suspicion Cindy may have payed her way through school working at a bar, but I never asked. Don't care either way.

There were a lot of Tagalog conversations on the side followed by stares and laughter, but I didn’t mind, I am used to women laughing at me, and girls will be girls.

The club owner, Tom, called and said he was downstairs with his girlfriend. I had never met this guy in person. He described himself. I told him I would be exiting the elevator shortly with 4 girls. “Did you say 4?” he asked, and I responded “Yes, is that a problem? I am not expecting you to pay our way, I got it dude.” He said it was not a problem; he was just not sure how we would fit in a taxi.

Tom and his girl took the front seat, the 5 of us piled in the back. He wanted to hit the coffee shop at the mall before we went, I guess to get an ice coffee and mingle a bit. I had heard this particular mall was a meat market at night, and there were a lot of lady boys. I came up with a game like the Slug Bug game, where when we spotted a Lady Boy we would yell Beans and Franks and punch the nearest person in the shoulder. There was a lot of punching going on. The taxi and the mall:



Attachment 6908Attachment 6909Attachment 6910 Attachment 6912

The first taxi tried to charge us by the head despite it being just a 1 mile ride, and he wanted $20. I was going to pay it, even though it was 10x the normal rate for that trip, but my ever vigilant wing man went crazy on the driver. The argued in Tagalog and as I was about to slip the guy the 20, he speeds off, almost running over my foot. Cindy says she called him a crook and threatened to call the police. Wow. I did not even remember what the guy looked like; I certainly did not want him to pick me up later and drive me to an alley and shank me. I did not approve of this, just let me pay FFS.

This place is quite the social hub. Many people just seem to be out for some fresh air and a cup of fancy Joe, but the working girl/boy presence is vaguely noticeable when you start making eye contact and smiling as you pass people. They didn’t care if I was obviously with companions, they still offered, usually a subtle grab of the hand or a quiet “you want date?” There were some pretty convincing lady boys about, but you can’t hide an Adams Apple. Beans and Franks!

We had one BNF that Cindy contested. She said it was not a lady boy, and Wendy did. We weighed in with the others and I ended up being the tie breaker. I am all about truth and justice, and I did not want to be part of a false conviction, so I went over to talk to this one, who was flanked by two obvious lady boys. The truth cost me 500 pesos and 7 seconds behind a dumpster. It was a boy. This is the price of knowledge.

xx-- file max reached, Day 7 continued next post

The nightclub is in an area with heavy taxi and foot traffic. There are vendors all over the street selling drinks and snacks and cigarettes. I buy some candy from some little kids and give them extra, and we unload all of our stupid trinkets on the kids, who will just turn around and sell them. I wanted to work some uneven trades (in their favor) for giggles, but Tom wanted to get inside. We head into the bar, cutting the line in front of all the others, I presume because I was with the owner. I felt like Paris Hilton but with bigger breasts.



He has a big table ready for us and we sit down. This is not a huge place, but it does have 3 floors and the music is not so loud that you cannot converse. We order drinks and leave the ladies at the table while he gives me a tour of the facility.

This is a pretty eclectic crowd in terms of composition, looked like all walks of life and I was not nearly the oldest one there. One thing that did amuse me were the white trolls, middle aged/senior men standing alone with a beer, doing a subtle dance and saying something to each hot girl who passed. They were not together, just a guy here and there, looking totally awkward, trying to dance with girls half his age or I suppose making them offers and getting shot down. These guys stayed alone all night. They got a lot of disgusting looks.

I remember thinking that really I was no better, but at least I am not standing alone like a dork in a corner. These guys looked pathetic. You got to pay to play, man. Oh, and you have to not stink like feces, which one of them did. He sounded Russian or Eastern Euro because he said “scuse” as he walked by me near the bathroom.

I did not want to dance at first, because I am not a great dancer, but then I realized that my competition on the dance floor were Asian men, so I went ahead and gave it a go. We stayed here for probably 5 hours, dancing to your typical western pop and rap music. It was here that I learned to Dougie.

I had picked up a couple of Filipino pop songs from my karaoke machine, since the subtitles were in English, and had been practicing around the penthouse and on the girls. A the club, I would sing lines from them when there was dead air in between songs. I was a real hit. I had no idea what I was saying, or even if I was singing it to the right inflection and notes (I wasn't), but I was still a hit.

At one point in the evening, the DJ actually played one of the songs I had been singing, and announced in English prior to playing that he was doing it to shut up the guy in the monkey shirt. I was wearing a shirt of Charleton Heston kissing an ape, with the words Animal Lover underneath. And here you thought I had no class.

I looked at the adjacent building at various points in the evenings when the other owner showed up with the keys. I liked these places. Readymade customers, assuming the bars don’t close down, but I would not want to live here and I am pretty sure this place would require overnight security. We talked prices and lease agreements, as foreigners cannot own land, they can only own the building. Nor can they own more than 40% of a company, but there are ways to legally write your way around that loophole in contracts, in terms of control of the company assets. People do this all the time (like The Monopoly), which makes me wonder why they do not just change the law since everyone is skirting the law.

This area was off the grid, so prices were good, like they should be here. The cover charge was all of 50 cents. A beer was 50 cents. A cocktail was $1. A pizza was $3. Things would be even cheaper in Cebu. I wish I had been coming to places like this all along, rather than overpaying at the hotel and strip restos. If I wanted to pay $8 for a mediocre burger, I can stay in the states to do that.

Me and Tom took many trips outside to talk about the future, which I won't bore you with.

I ate all night and paced myself on booze, so although I was lit to high heaven, I was not too inebriated and was feeling good. This was a good thing, since tonight I have my showdown with Drunk Sonny Bono, whom I have not mentioned yet


I could not even begin to tell you where we were, only that it was a 30 minute cab ride and it was near a beach, because I could smell the ocean. The girls wanted to walk a few blocks to a main road to get a cab quicker, and me and tom were like HELL NO. I can only imagine what would happen to a drunk foriegner wandering alone in remote Manila. I defintely felt safer with 4 loudmouthed girls with me, but I doubt they would do anything other than scream and curse and eventually run when I got beat down. I am really good at blocking punches with my face. Tom and I together probably weighed more than the entire Filipino parliament, but that does not matter against a gun.

I kept trying to get Tom to bring his friends up to the suite. Either he did not believe that I had the penthouse, or he thought I was trying to lure them into some kind of crazy sex orgy. They guy would just not come, even though he lived nearby. I was going to start inviting random people at the bar, but Cindy and Wendy talked me out of it. I had security, it’s not like people would steal my stuff, but they reminded me that I would be liable for spills and breaks, and that all my furniture and carpet was white fabric. In fact, Alexa had already ruined one couch cushion. I can only imagine the hijacking that would happen when they charge me to replace things in the room. I like to think they were looking out for my best interest, and not saving me money just so I can give more to them. I prefer to give them the benefit :).

Back at the hotel, it was more drinking and of course more karaoke. There were over a thousand songs, but I kept hearing the same ones over and over. And there was no Purple Rain. OR I Touch Myself. I want my oney back. I ask Angel if Karaoke machines usually have Purple Rain or I Touch Myself and he has never heard either. So I sing a little of each for him. Still doesn't ring a bell, but he tells me he really thinks they should be on the machines. Damn right.

Attachment 6932Attachment 6933Attachment 6934Attachment 6935Attachment 6936Attachment 6937Attachment 6938Attachment 6939Attachment 6940Attachment 6942Attachment 6943



As the girls began to change into robes and pass out one by one, it was just me and Wendy left. I helped them to comfy places to sleep and got them blankets, since I liked to keep the room cold. Wendy got dressed and decided that late night ice cream sundaes were in order, since I was out of ice cream.

Oh yeah, forgot to mention. I always had ice cream and chocolates in my fridge. It became sort of a tradition. Especially after scrabble. Naked Ice Creaming is underrated.

We went down to the restaurant and took a seat. There were quite a few people here tonight. The seating was sort of like what you might find in a Denny’s, but for midgets. The booths were close and the aisle was narrow. It was very easy to pick up other people’s conversations, which sometimes made for entertaining meals as you listened to how full of crap people were.

Sitting across the aisle from us were to young, bald soldiers with two very pretty young women with them. Maybe bar girls, maybe not. I picked up that they were Navy, on leave from the base in Guam. I had not seen them here before.

Behind me was drunk, old, bitter Sonny Bono with a hillbilly accent. Think Sam Elliot in Big Lebowski, only shorter and not nearly as cool. He was sitting with an older local woman, who did not look happy, and he was slobbering drunk.

I had been watching and listening to this idiot the entire week. Sometimes in the street, sometimes in a bar, sometimes at Jollibee, sometimes in the café. He was always drunk, he was always loud. He always had the same woman with him on the rare occasion he had company.

I had also listen to him talk incessantly about how he was in the warzone and “in the S***.”
I started recording him with my micro recorder on the second day, because it was so funny. I just did not understand how anyone could be that drunk and still be conscious. Sometimes he would prattle on for so long he would completely forget he had his food, then get riled up over something, stand up, drop a pile of cash, and storm out, food untouched. I had picked up that he was a contractor on day 2.

Whenever girlfriend would try to talk to him like a normal person, he would always cut her off. If she asked about his job, he would say it was some big top secret thing and that he was “in the sh**!” If she asked him what he did in his spare time in Afghanistan, he said he did not have any spare time because he was “In the sh**!” If she asked what kind of music he listened to, he said he “Ain’t got time for music, already told you I am In The S***!” These were the types of conversations I had heard.

Tonight I had no choice to sit next to him. Before he had been a few seats away, but I could hear him because the place was empty. Tonight I had hoped that the crowd in the place would drown him out, but it didn’t. I was now in the s***.

At some point, in the wee hours of the morning, one of the Navy kids, who looked all of 20 years old, said something about being “from the south” and “that’s how it is in Texas,” at which point Drunk Sonny Bono interrupted the kid and said “Texas ain’t the south, boy.”

The kids were quiet, kind of shocked, and one of them laughed and said “Anyway……. Before I was interrupted….”

Drunk Sonny Bono said something along the lines of offering a piece of himself, and that he was not the correct person that anyone would want a piece of, except he did not say it that fluently, but more like someone from the actual south. Not Texas, though.

“Hey man, we’re just trying to have a good time. We would appreciate it if you minded your own business” or something to that effect.

Drunk Sonny Bono asked them if they were “in the service.” They answered that they were Sailors on Leave. Drunk Sonny Bono responded that sailors were part of the female anatomy, a slur for homosexual males, and “little bitches” and that he had been living in Afghanistan, in the s***, and he was not the correct person from which they would want a piece. That was the jest of what he said, probably not verbatim because I do not speak Drunk Sonny Bono.

The kids tried to play cool and tell him they were not looking for trouble, to which he responded that they are damn right, they did not want trouble from him, as he was not one from which they wanted a piece of. He told them that he had connections, and that he did not care who they were. IIRC, he vaguely threatened to have them murdered.

One guy said “Sir, we are done talking, we just want to have a good time. We were about to leave anyway,” I could not believe the patience of these kids.

Drunk Sonny Bono, always needing the last word, replied “That’s what I thought…….. (insert female organ here/plural).

Anyway, at this point, I had pretty well had enough. Wendy had been with me before around this guy, and knew that I had distaste for his antics and had calmed me before. But this time it was different, for I had a secret weapon, although I was not sure how I was going to use it. This would be pure improv

Rewind a few days.
You see, on day 3 or 4, while down stairs in the “business suite,” the place where you pay a ridonkulous fee to use PC workstations and FAX machines and printers and scanners, I had been at a workstation printing out my plane ticket to Cebu while Drunk Sonny Bono was checking emails and surfing the web. It was late morning and yes, he was Drunk Sonny Bono then, as well. He appeared to be making some sort of purchase at some point, because he took out his wallet.

Drunk Sonny Bono’s cell phone rang and he answered and began slobbering some irate concoction of words in it, and then lit a cigarette. The girl at the desk told him he would have to smoke outside or in the bar, so Drunk Sonny Bono got up and walked away talking on his phone, not only leaving his wallet but also staying logged into his hotmail account.

I held onto Drunk Sonny Bono’s wallet because I did not want it to get stolen. I accidentally looked inside and saw the names on his credit cards and government ID. I accidentally saw a relatively new photo of what appeared to be his wife, his children and himself, but not drunk. Also, they were ugly. Then I accidentally saw his business card. He worked for GD. His office was located in Kuwait. Oh this is rich. I took down his office number and cell, his email, and of course his name and home address (from his Virginia DL), and put the wallet back next to the keyboard.

Oh look, his email.

He is still stuck in Kuwait, apparently, and will lose part of his vacation time due to mission concerns. He will be a week late and will not get that week back. What a nice husband, keeping his wife informed. Her name is Sugar.

In another tab he has a credit card website up, checking his statements. This is likely his cheaters credit card, not to be mistaken for the Family Lowe’s credit card.

And I left it at that. I could have done much worse at the time. I opened a new tab, to see where he had been. Walmart.com, boring. Myspace, WTF who uses that anymore?? Uh oh, He had actually been logged into AKO, the DOD portal, and was probably checking his AKO email. Oh wow, what would I have done? That would have been tempting, a true dilemma, as there are a few choice lines of code you can use to send an email to large numbers of people like, say, everyone in RC East Afghanistan. A racist joke? A suicide letter? Or perhaps something simple, yet eloquent, such as “I prefer Penis.”

I will never know. And I am getting sidetracked. Anyway, I called his work number (later) to make sure the business card was up to date, and they told me he was on vacation back in the states. LOLOLOL. I was genuinely curious about this because GD, in addition to dealing with many sorts of high end equipment, also builds and repairs DOD COMSEC equipment, and this guy could probably catch some heat for walking around Hooker Town bragging about his TS clearance. And if he works for GD, he has a TS. And stays logged into email and leaves his wallet laying around. Reassuring.

Okay, so the moment.

I had earlier taken out my little note card with his info and told Wendy to watch this. I was studying.
Blah Blah In The S***

Drunk Sonny Bono, always needing the last word, replied “That’s what I thought…….. (insert female organ here).

I laughed loudly. “What?” I turned around to face him, “You started it, you should be lucky we’re in a foreign country otherwise these kids would skewer you.”

“You need to mind your own business” he slobbers

I scream for him to shut up, to leave those young men alone, and to please stop trifling. “Ma’am” I told his lady friend “I am sorry but your father is an asshole”

Drunk Sonny Bono tells me this ain’t none of my concern, and that I really do not want to obtain of piece of whatever he is serving.

I introduce myself, very politely. Name, rank, unit, job title, number of missions completed, past areas of operation, approximate days in theater, number of soldiers under my command, etc, etc

One of the sailors says “oh man, funny”

I tell him that I have been listening to him for days upon days talking about being a big bad man from the warzone. I tell him that he is full of crap, and he should apologize to those sailors, because he will be thanking them when we go to war with North Korea or China, assuming he hasn’t drank himself to death. I also told him to stop treating local people like dirt.

Then he asks the magic question. SAY IT SAY IT PLEEEEASE. “Do you know who I am?”

I tell him his name, the company for whom he works, the location of his office. He is drooling

I tell him that I was bothered by his behavior since he was walking around drunk talking about top secret information (he hadn’t really, but he was so drunk he would not know)

I tell him that I had called the US Embassy (the Embassy has no way of knowing you are here unless you check in, maybe he didn’t check in, oh crap)

And that the Embassy called Philippines Customs and Immigration (I don’t think that’s the actual name of the agency) Now he really looks confused

And they had told me that he arrived on the 17th and was leaving on the 24th (Persuade Skill:100//the hotel clerk told me that, after I paid her 500 pesos, but Customs would know because they want to see your departure ticket, good saving roll)

And that he was not going back into “The S***” in Kuwait, but rather he was going back to the United States, specifically Virginia. To see someone named Sugar.

He says nothing, looks down, and begins angrily eating pancakes. The sailors are laughing. Their dates are not sure exactly what is happening. Everyone else in the diner is utterly confused. I turn back and sit down.

This would have never worked on someone who was not a drunkard. They would have remembered me from the Business Suite. I mean, the Sugar part should have done it. HOW CAN YOU BE THIS DRUNK? Would he even remember this? Should I throw the guy a bone?

“Not that you will remember this and learn from it, but a few days ago you left your wallet in the computer lab” I said as I turned to him. “And you stayed logged into your email and credit card statement. “

At this point he is reaching into his pants to check for his wallet. Wow. “No, man” I said “I didn’t take your wallet; this was a few days ago. You walk around here drunk, good thing we aren’t all assholes like you, right?”

Pancakes again.

I have Wendy, in Tagalog, tell the girlfriend that the man is married, and that I saw the pictures and read the email, which is good because a guy like that will drink himself into bankruptcy and abuse her.

The girlfriend says something long and drawn out in response. Drunk Sonny Bono, who henceforth will be referred to as Pancake Bitch, thinks they are arguing and tells his girlfriend not to argue with us. He fears my mind.

Wendy whispers this in my ear. “She know he marry. He think she not know, they vacation many times here. She okay because he gives her lots moneys. He promise marry her soon but she knows he won’t. He tells her to no sex anyone else, stay true for him, and he marry her soon. She does not want, because she marry too. Her husband work in kitchen.”

I look over, a guy in the apron has been watching from the soda bar area. He heard everything. He gives me the “sup” nod. I wish I had pancakes.

One of my favorite pics
Attachment 6946

This will likely be my last update until this weekend.

Next chapter will be:
Final morning in Manila
Flying to Cebu for $15
Wow this place is cheap

This is one of the two best things I've ever read on the internet. MRD, I can't thank you enough for sharing this with all of us.

MRD, that was the greatest putdown of a drunken bastard I have ever read. You, sir, deserve medals and other assorted platitudes for such a response. I am in awe.

The Pancake Bitch incident should've been recorded and uploaded! :laugh4:

Tagged with a few select words, on youtube it would've made a hit.

You are too nice MRD.

I am afraid I would have talked to someone in a low numbered J-shop about the security breeches.

It is a funny story here but I doubt some of those guys in suits would think it amusing at all.

You sure know how to tell a story, MRD :bow:

It reads like a book. Your life experiences combined with your sense of humour and your writing style would make you a good author of a "film noir like thriller that takes place in several exotic locations across the globe" (if that makes sense).

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Fisherking

You are too nice MRD.

I am afraid I would have talked to someone in a low numbered J-shop about the security breeches.

It is a funny story here but I doubt some of those guys in suits would think it amusing at all.

---

Story ain't over yet

All you need to do is intertwine some thriller plot and lace-up the bedroom scenes, then you can publish your works as "50 Shades of Major Robert" and it is already better written.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Tiaexz

All you need to do is intertwine some thriller plot and lace-up the bedroom scenes, then you can publish your works as "50 Shades of Major Robert" and it is already better written.

---

50 Shades of Dump. I like it.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Vladimir

50 Shades of Dump. I like it.

---

Or 50 Dumps of Shade

Epic, can't wait to hear the rest! You are doing good work overseas. :bow:

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Major Robert Dump

-Drunk Sonny Bono story-

---

I've been trying to find the best owned image of gif for this. Here's what I came up with:
Attachment 6953

This topic has been split. If you want to discuss the Objections to the Sex Trade, please take it to that topic.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by lars573

I've been trying to find the best owned image of gif for this. Here's what I came up with:
Attachment 6953

---

I like

I also like that the topic has been split

Working holiday for the ladies and a real holiday for you; no harm no foul :)

The writing is good; I echo the call to punch it up and publish. The narration and sense of atmosphere is very Hunter S. I need a new gonzo journalist :)

Lars, please don't copy very long posts unless you need to.

MRD, done reading up to now.. Absolutely amazing, well done!!! Both doing it and writing about it!!

Not as steamy as Nora Roberts. I give it 7/10. Would read again though.

only just caught this, thanks Vuk!

awesome story, sounds like you had a ball (at leats as far as day 5 where i am up to).

Hay! MRD you are slacking off. This is not a monthly magazine serial is it?

Where is the rest of the story?

No mas? Come on!

This weekend. I had to move.

I was also wondering if someone could clarify if the pc-to-thread photos that I upload that go into my org "album" are capped per thread (like they are per post) or if that album is all I get. So far I have used 50/50 photobucket/direct upload, because photobucket kept crashing on me. Just trying to figure out how to proceed, as I have a photo-heavy subsequent thread I plan on doing about afghanistan

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Major Robert Dump

I have a photo-heavy subsequent thread I plan on doing about afghanistan

---

Looking forward to it.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Major Robert Dump

This weekend. I had to move.

I was also wondering if someone could clarify if the pc-to-thread photos that I upload that go into my org "album" are capped per thread (like they are per post) or if that album is all I get. So far I have used 50/50 photobucket/direct upload, because photobucket kept crashing on me. Just trying to figure out how to proceed, as I have a photo-heavy subsequent thread I plan on doing about afghanistan

---

You may want to have a word with Tin Cow. I am sure he can answer your questions and can either fix or alert you to any problems.

Now, before I continue, I should point out (due to concerns of some readers) that Pancake Bitch was not some Top Secret contractor with super secret knowledge. I did not know this t the time, but it would later turn out he was just a sub contractor hired by a contractor to do admin and HR type stuff on a temporary basis. He was former military, not sure when or where, but probably recent since he still had a DKO account. He also had a drinking problem. In the end, his biggest crime, other than being an all-around douche, was playing loosey-goosey with his government-issued ID Card in a foreign country, which could give resourceful bad guys access to restricted areas, like military bases. That being said, my original concern was legitimate, and I had contacted my supervisor in Afghanistan and alerted him to the issue prior to The Pancake Incident. A drunk, adulterous man with a sensitive job ould be a wet dream for Extortionist Eddie or Bribery Betty, not to mention his less-than-honest girlfriend and her husband. Not sure what happened to him down the road, and don’t really care.

While finishing our breakfast with Pancake Bitch sitting quietly behind us, the cashier from the diner came up and said she needed to talk to me in private. Great, my card has been declined, maybe? Nope. The girls upstairs had apparently awoke and ordered room service. She wanted to know if it was okay, as they ordered like $30 of food. I told her it was fine, and asked her why she took me off alone to tell me this. She said because she didn’t know if my breakfast date knew that I had girls in my room, and did not want to “harm my gaming.”

The sailors left and thanked me; Pancake Bitch and his married virgin were still there when we left. I went upstairs and was met at the door by the girls, who were immediately apologizing for ordering food.

Now, I’m an easy going guy, and this did not make me mad. I’ve spent so much at this point I could care less. But this is the type of stuff that irritates tourists a lot, and it is somewhat that is irritating about the Filipino culture. The room service goes on the hotel bill, and I can see the potential for screwing up someone’s budget by doing this. OF course, I’m in a room that costs 250+ a day, so maybe the girls figured I could afford it, I don’t know. But the fact that they were apologizing after they just did it anyway… well, it amused me, because obviously they knew they did something wrong. Again, I wasn’t angry, but I did joke that if it was such a big deal to apologize that they should have asked first.

They had also pulled the mattress and some couch cushions into my room ,because they had shut off the A/C due to being cold, and now the suite was miserably hot, except for my room, where I kept the door closed and the AC turned down to 65 degrees. I had planned on maybe playing Scrabble with Wendy, but now we had a full fledged slumber party going on. Gracie seemed an innocent bystander. I mean, surely she knew what I had been doing, she had seen me walking around for the past week with various women. I considered telling them they could only sleep in the room if they had a topless pillow fight, but I was just so tired at this point I wanted to sleep. I passed out in the bed with Wendy and Grace, and Cindy and Daisy slept on their hasty bed on the floor with Alvin and the Chipmunks blaring on the TV, yet again. The picture of them on the floor was on the previous update.

Attachment 7200


I had left money for the girls out on the table, in case they woke before me. Daisy and Cindy were gone when I got up in the early afternoon. Wendy was still asleep and Gracie was cooking us food in the kitchen. We spent the waking hours having coffee and taking pictures on the roof, and eventually we all packed my things and cleaned up the room. I dealt with the Alexa’s stain on the couch by using the time tested trick of flipping the couch cushion, which apparently worked.

Attachment 7188Attachment 7189Attachment 7191Attachment 7192Attachment 7193


Having more coffee in the café below, I found that Wendy was also going to Cebu for a few days to see family. I was initially worried she was going to want to shadow me there, but it never did come up. What did come up, was she started crying that I was leaving, and started on and on about how I was the nicest customer she had ever had, and she was afraid she would never see me again. This, in turn, made me mist up a bit, while Gracie appeared dumbfounded by the whole deal. This was precisely what I was trying to avoid, as I felt like Wendy was maybe trying to talk me into being her boyfriend or sponsor or something. I don’t know. I mean, she had introduced me to other women to play Scrabble with. She knew what I had been up to, and several times on the phone on my non-Wendy days I had to shut her down when she got whiney about me coming to EWR her, which I did by telling her “I am here to see lots of women, not just you.”

Gracie had to go, or she wanted to leave us alone, and she went her way. We went back up to the cool lobby for a little while, where I observed the owner some more. It was here that I decided I would not return to rent this hotel when I passed back through, or ever. I will go into detail about that in a later post, as my interactions in this regard are not over yet.

Attachment 7195Attachment 7196Attachment 7197

My flight does not leave until evening, so after some walking and talking, I decide I want to hit Jollibee again. On the way there, true to form, the Kid Mafia finds me and does that thing they do where they act cute and hungry and tug at my arms and try to ride on my legs as I walk and tell passersby that I am their best friend. We take them into Jollibee with us and commence ordering.

Inside of Jollibee is none other than Pancake Bitch.

Pancake Bitch was seated, wearing sunglasses and alone, next to the counter and awaiting his food. We made eye contact, but no words were exchanged. As he got his food and brushed past me, I got the impression he did not remember me. This would not be surprising considering how drunk this man gets. I was still feeling the previous nights alcohol and sweating beer from my armpits, I can’t imagine what this guy must feel like being 10x more drunk than me and getting the same amount, or less, sleep.

I bought the 4 kids their kiddy meals and we all sat down, Wendy having some giggliy conversations with the kids in Tagalog. I had never made the trip from downtown to the airport, but had heard horror stories, so I figured I would get a head start and eat in the cab. I still needed to go back to the hotel and get my bags from behind the desk. Wendy wanted to come with me to the airport, which of course means I have to pay her fare back, but big deal, its $5.

I probably also should have said no because of her apparent attachment, but I let her come, and we bid farewell to the street children.

Pancake bitch is seated at a table right next to the door now, facing the aisle, eating his food. He says “Hey,” as if he wants to tell me something. I leave my bag of food on our table and approach him, thinking he was going to apologize, so maybe he did remember me. He proceeds to explain to me, in his brilliant hung-over reasoning, that people like me make things worse for the rest of the tourists, because by giving beggars money and feeding homeless kids, they come to expect it and they never go away. “Yeah, I tip really well, too, does that also mess things up for everyone?” I ask.

“Weekend Millionaires,” he says, “****ing things up, trying to get karma points to offset their whore mongering.” The thing that got me the most, is that he was talking loudly, within ear shot of these kids, who were obviously listening.

At this point I realize he probably does not remember me. I briefly thought about telling this guy that I was the last guy who needed Karma points due to what I did in Afghanistan in 2010, and that I could probably become a serial killer and still have positive karma for quite some time. The Karma points thing gave me all sorts of witty Fallout analogies, but they would be wasted on him. I thought about telling him that I turned him in to my boss, who in turn was going to contact his agency. But Nah, in this case, it would be better to just stop talking, get my food and leave. Nothing was going to change Pancake Bitches mind, not now, not ever. Words would not help here. And I am hung-over, Wendy has me in a less-than-jovial mood, and I am not up for debate.

I walk back to the table, pat the kids on the head; we grab out food and begin to walk out. Pancake Bitch is lifting his fresh, juicy burger to his agape mouth, ready to take a bite, when I walk past, not missing a step, and slap the burger out of his hand, sending it flying into the frontage glass window with a splat, and leaving a ketchup splatter just above the We Accept Visa sign. The children laughed and chattered. I did not look back

The taxi drive was half an hour.

I asked Wendy what the kids said, and she told me they were informing her that I was a “butterfly” and a “player” and that she should not get attached to me. Apparently they took note of the various women. She said she thanked them for the advice.

This is where I discovered that the Domestic and International terminals were not on the same side of the airport, and were not even connected by a roadway. My shameless taxi driver, upon finding out that me and Wendy were not an item, was I guess to busy trying to explain that he can get me a girlfriend or a wife and trying to give me his phone number and email. Because he missed the part where I said I was flying to Cebu, and took me to the international terminal. We were out of the cab and he was gone before the cop checking passports came up and informed us we were in the wrong place. We hailed another cab, and it took – seriously – 50 minutes to drive from the international terminal to the domestic terminal, because we had to go back out to a main road, drive through downtown Manila, and circle the airport to the far end. At this point, I am very much pushing the envelope.

I’m not worried about not getting a refund, as the ticket cost like $15 plus tax and fees. I am also pretty sure Manila to Cebu flights are fairly common. I just have some plans in Cebu the following day, and do not fancy spending the night in the Manila airport. The domestic side is practically empty compared to the international terminal, and the check-in is quick and easy. Wendy and I say good-bye before I pass through the gate entry, and shortly after I discover that my flight has been delayed an hour, so all my worry was for nothing. I go take a seat in a coffee shop and order a pastry and some Joe, which even being in an airport, is still ¼ the price it was at The Monopoly Hotel.

The flight from Manila to Cebu is normally 1 hour, but this one would be a little longer because we were flying around the weather. A couple of local passengers scared to fly dropped off the roster when they announced this, which kind of had me worried, but hey, Filipinos are nothing if not superstitious.

For a small company (Cebu Pacific) with small jet liners, the plane was very roomy. I found this humorous, considering how small the locals are, but in western countries full fo fat bodies they pack us in like sardines. They also fed us a full-fledged meal, presumably because of the delay and sextended flight time, which in all only added 2 hours to the entire ordeal for a 3 hr total. You practically have to give hand jobs to get peanuts on American flights that short. I was flanked in my seat by two old ladies who were very talkative and wanted to know if I was interested in meeting their granddaughter. The ride into the airport was very choppy, complete with screaming children and one of the ladies doing a Hail Mary and holding my hand.

By the time we landed it was after 10pm. I hailed a cab and he began to drive me into town.

Cebu is its own island, with the airport on a smaller island and connected by a long bridge. It is known as the Crown Jewel of the Philippines. While not as populous and market-centered as Manila, it has a very stable economy that is not badly affected by market fluctuations. There is also a larger middle class here. The overwhelming percentage of foreigner-Filipino families move to this region, and with good reason: better schools, better economy, isolated from the rabble of the mainland.

The first thing I noticed is that traffic was not ridiculous. Even this late, it was bumper to bumper in Manila. Here the streets were quiet. The downside to this would be that I would need to cross at cross-walks instead of doing that thing locals do when you walk across 8 lanes of gridlocked traffic, holding your hand up to oncoming vehicles. There was, however, no shortage of honking, just like in Manila, and everyone driving was in a hurry as well.

The second thing I noticed was that after a 20 minute cab ride to my hotel, the driver had not once tried to hook me up with a girlfriend, wife, drugs or hooker.

I stayed in a nice, older hotel. IT seemed to be geared towards Filipino expats coming home to visit. There was a bar and a kitchen, but this place was off the grid and in a modest neighborhood. It was in a dead-end of a shopping center with a housing edition behind it. For an older place, it was quite nice, and the service looked good. The only thing I did not like was that the room doors were wooden and flimsy, and you needed an analog key to get it. I still had a card key, to turn on power in the room, so now I had to keep track of two items, blah. There seemed to be at least 4 doormen/bellhops and 2 security on site at all times, so the doors weren’t too worrisome. There was also a pool on the roof. This room cost me $28 a night, complete with free breakfast and internet. Incidentally, the same internet company that my Manila hotel charged me $10 a day for. My reservation had gotten nerfed, so they gave me a room with 2 beds.

I had a balcony overlooking the houses below.
The street in front of the shopping center had some small shops and a bank. Further down on my side was a grocery store/social drinking place (hard to explain), a gas station/convenience store and a McDonalds. Across the street were a giant church, more banks, and a row of smaller eatery/bars geared towards locals. These local places were the size of a walk-in closet, with the bar and kitchen in the closet, and the seating for the customers on the sidewalk. There were always 2 or 3 people at each of these places, usually older local men. After several days there, I would always notice the same guys.



I had a full day tomorrow, and as much as I wanted to go out, I figured it best to stay in. I did a short recon of the immediate area, and noticed prices were far cheaper than in Manila. Random people, overflows from the festival

Attachment 7198Attachment 7199


The store had bottles of water for a quarter. Liquor was less than 1/3rd of what it was in Manila. A real meal at the hotel diner was cheaper, too, for example a New York Strip dinner for $4.50. Food carts and street vendors would be even cheaper as I would find out later. The post-festival parties were going on, and it was tempting. My contacts in town had invited me out, but instead I sat on the balcony and watched fireworks and drank bottles water, trying to recover from the gallons of alcohol consumed in the past week.

http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=...9QEwBg&dur=163


On the agenda for the following day was to check in with the matchmaking agency so they could run my background check and I could start meeting some nice, wholesome Filipino girls. Later in the day I would hook up with Ian, who worked for an NGO from Afghanistan, and make contact with an American expat I met years earlier in South Dakota. On subsequent days I had some meetings set up with some local expat business owners, but they did not even know I was in country, as I wanted to do a surprise inspection of their business. Other than that, I figured I would just wander and drink

Day 9

I got up at 7am. When I went to search the web for directions to this agency, I realized I did not have my laptop cord. My battery sucks. A few minutes on the laptop and it is already low on juice. I need another battery of a new cord, so I write down the specs and hope to find something somewhere.

The place was about a mile away, and I was in the mood to walk.

Attachment 7201Attachment 7202Attachment 7203Attachment 7204Attachment 7205

Without coming off as too much of a fool, as I already had more lady friends than a guy could handle, over the several months leading up to my trip, I spent a good deal of money on this matchmaking service. Considering the economy of Cebu and the small staff of the agency, the guys who owned this place were making a huge profit. Not granted, they did throw elaborate parties where all the girls were invited to attend, basically a meet and greet, and the employees told me they gto paid exceptionally well, but I have to admit that deep down inside I wanted to punch the little bald man who ran the joint.
Upon arrival, the office was filled with girls there to set up profiles. In terms of hotness-per-square-foot, this office had everywhere else in the PI beat at this particular moment. There were girls everywhere, on the couches, waiting in lines, on the computers, and when I walked in they all talked in Cebuano and giggled. I felt like such a piece of meat. It was wonderful.

Attachment 7206Attachment 7207

I fill out the background check form and tell them which ladies I want to meet. I actually only had 3 lined up, and he encouraged me to meet more, but I already felt like I was pushing the envelope of both emotional taxation and time limits. There was a meet and greet over the weekend I was also invited to, and I considered it, but again, I just felt it might be odd to attend one of these as I would feel like it was a casting call, not much better than going to a bar and having to pick a dancer out of the lineup.

While I was there, a couple other western guys came in. One was a decrepit old Englishman, who I was introduced to, and he told me he was a retired government employer whose wife of 30 years had died, and that he was lonely. The other was an American from Colorado who looked like he was better suited to be at an Occupy protest, he told me he was into graphic design, probably about 30 years old.

I headed to the docks. The taxi ride was a few minutes, closer than I expected. Something is going on here. There is some sort of police/military presence with checkpoints. They ask me why I am here and I tell them. They won’t let me in. They tell me not to take photos. From what I can tell, they are loading a bunch of military stuff onto boats, probably things headed down to Mindanao. I call Ian, who is expecting me, and he drives up and gets them to let me in. I pay the taxi and head into the mix.

The reason I am here is sort of convoluted. I met Ian at Gardez, where his NGO was doing a fine job rebuilding Afghanistan. They were, in my opinion, one of the best at what they did, hugely successful and with little over head. Their local workers always got paid, and on time, unlike lots of other contracts. They skirted the standard security contractor rules by using organic security, so their engineers and project managers were all packing heat. They dressed like locals and acted like locals. They rolled in regular vehicles. No one noticed them.

I had been courting them for a job, hopefully back in Paktya. I was not a school trained engineer or farmer, but I had a familiarity with the region and its farming, and I could handle a firearm. According to Ian, those two assets fared me better than all the degrees in the world.

Well, that was until the NGO pulled out of Afghanistan. Karzais rules caught up with them. Previously, armed contractors would need either a US permit or an Afghan. Now they needed both, and the Afghans were not budging. They would have to hire Afghan security contractors. These companies, like ASG the largest, are made up of people who could not make it into the federal ranks, which says a lot. Considering that insider attacks have always been a problem, this simply was not an option.

The NGO did not take this decision lightly, and were in fact going to continue with high dollar, handpicked security contractors. The idea was they would fund an Afghan security start up under the condition that they worked only with the NGO. But the massacre of the team of doctors for the International Assistance Mission, almost 5 years to the day of a massacre of a Doctors Without Border Team (which prompted DWB to pull out after losing 32 total over 3 years), pretty much sealed the deal.

Basically, if the NGO continued to work in Afghanistan, they were going to have to find new employees because their project managers refused to put their fate in the hands of people who could be bought for $20 or turned due to religion. They were gone, along with one of the finest NGO track records in Afghanistan.

I suppose I might still be able to bring military experience to the table for their operations in Africa and SE Asia, but these places were less dangerous than Afghanistan, the locals were more trustworthy and I did not have any expertise in the regional economy in those places. But I still wanted to hang out with these guys because they were involved in the shipping of massive amounts of humanitarian aid and materials from Europe and the states.

I was mostly interested in shipping operations, costs, times, and general import/export issues. The original plan was for me to sneak off with the team on a flight to New Zealand, but the weather was getting ugly, so instead we opted for a little US Territory 2000km east of the Philippines, as they had a small shipping relay operation there. Obviously, in most cases of agricultural products, shipping from the US to poor countries is not the cheapest way to go unless the US is providing something others cannot provide (which it doesn’t) or they can score some sort of cut rate price on bulk items or donations. In this case, there was apparently going to be Twenty 40 foot containers of baby formula coming in.

Incidentally, for all my union fans, I also discovered that the freight was shipped from the Midwest USA, through Mexico, through drug war territory, and to a western Mexican dock to be shipped out over the pacific. Apparently the extra distance, insane insurance costs and extra risk was far, far cheaper than dealing with the Longshoreman Unions on the west coast. Funny.

I won’t bore you with the finer details of Pacific rim shipping. And in my rush to conserve battery power I forgot to transfer all my pics off of my camera, so I was running out of space on both cameras I had on me. I will say the company jet was very nice, as was Guam, but in the end I was not supposed to travel to Guam, or the Mariana Islands, so I don’t have any idea what you are talking about. Carry on.


-----------

Day 10 Friday

I returned to Cebu in the late morning. Today I was on track to meet a chap named David, who owned a little bar and restaurant, and he was looking for a partner. From the ads and emails, he was not making much money, if any, and he was looking for a partial buy in so he could become an absentee owner and pursue some other leads. Well, that’s what he said. I rushed to get my free breakfast before the hotel diner closed, forgetting to take care of my camera, and called him on the way there.

He knew I was in town, and that I planned to come by, but for things like this a drop in is always better, so he doesn’t have time to pull any magic tricks. As it turns out, he definitely needed some tricks. Either this guy is an astute business man who operates on a level I do not understand, or he is the worst business man on the planet.

After breakfast I headed to the agency to meet my first new friend.


Attachment 7216Attachment 7217Attachment 7218Attachment 7219Attachment 7220
Her name was Doris, and she was actually pretty close to my age. She was not hip on having her photo taken, so I took a picture of the waitress and my food instead.

Attachment 7208Attachment 7209Attachment 7210



It was really hot today. I’m not going to go into the finer details of who and why, but Doris and I were not really compatible. We both knew this. I also think she might have already had a man. I gave her a wad of money for the cab ride home, and got her address so I could send her and her kid some gifts. She didn’t want to do this, but I insisted, and when I got back to the Stan I used a delivery service to send them a roasted Lechon, some groceries and a mini-fridge, since they didn’t have cold storage but did have electricity.

For dinner I was meeting Jessica. Jessica was a very attractive, dark skinned girl who spent a lot of time in the gym. She had a nursing degree but worked in a call center (more money, nurses have federal salary caps), and her English was better about half of Americans. This girl was very impressive. We went to a little restaurant called Our Place, which I had found on the internet and been wanting to visit.
She was in her mid-20s, and despite her outward maturity, she struck me as very immature. She was also from a fairly well-to-do family and seemed a bit spoiled. The restaurant was not in the greatest neighborhood, and she seemed terrified to be out on the street. Either that or she did not want to be seen with me. She was very anxious from the cab to the diner, and afterwards when we could not immediately find a cab, she became visibly shaken and upset. Not sure what the deal was.

Attachment 7212Attachment 7213

http://www.ourplacecebu.com/

The aussie version of chicken fried steak was delicious. I think it copst like $4. She ate a filipino dish. That and some drinks cost us less than $10/

Anyway, the immaturity part: She basically admitted over dinner to having lots of profiles on lots of dating sites, and that for all of the sites except mine, she uses her moms photo. Her mom looked just like her, but older. I asked her why, was she trying to set her mom up with a man? She explained that she was doing it so see if guys would like her for who she was, not what she looked like, and after she got to know a guy enough she would show him her real photo. It would be like a reward. I found this incredibly retarded. I found it somewhat egotistical. It also sounded like she was just hunting for an older guy. Whatever the reason, as she was doing this, a giant flashing neon sign was going off in my head: Little Girl Games.

These are the types of silly games I despise when American girls do them, the same ones my ex wife liked to play. Like me for who I am, so I put up a fake photo? PFfffft. Or, she was lying altogether and was trying to set her mom up. I don’t know. Whatever.

We took a cab back to the agency and parted ways. I still stay in contact with her. Girls with her education and language skills are hard to find there, but the story above along with some other things just gave me pause.

In the evening I was meeting Maddie. Maddie was actually at the Agency the first day I met, but we did not talk much. Maddie and I met at the mall that evening, and would meet again the following evening at the meet and greet. She was not in the best of moods tonight because she had been having a hard time as an English teacher for rich Korean kids, and apparently the teenagers treat their teachers like dirt, imagine that. Nice girl, mid 20s, partial college education, no father, 3 brothers and 1 sister, all older than her.

Attachment 7215


She did not want to stay out late because she was tired from work. I took this as a good time to drop in on Dave’s bar.

First, the location of this place is completely out of the way of everything, except a single hotel that caters mostly to japanese. Second, he has a cowboy name and cowboy theme with karaoke, but no cowboy designs or memoriabilia, and no country songs on the karaoke. Most of the cash he spent was on the karaoke machine, but its only one big machine, not many smaller ones in private rooms like the Japanese tourists prefer. This wasn’t somewhere locals would come to drink, as it wasn’t hip enough for youngsters and it was too expensive for old drunks. Did mention terrible location? Oh, and it was leasehold, and not a very good price.

There were no customers when I arrived in the late night on a Friday. He tried to give me free drinks but I was not going to have it. There was him, a barkeep and a waitress. We go for a walk and he basically admits that he bought a failing business from a douchebag and tried to turn it around. He did not make a profit. He lost about $100 USD a month after expenses, which he thought was okay and he considered it his country rent to be able to live in the PI and employ a few people. He was looking at maybe a smaller venue down the street, cheaper rent but even more off the grid. He made it sound like he was going to turn his business into one of those shanty bars on the street, where the seats are on the sidewalk and you get the same old drunks every night. He was originally trying to sell the entire place for $20,000. By the end of the evening, he was trying to get 5k out of me for a partnership.

I simply was not interested. And this place had no kitchen, which he had led me to believe, unless a bathroom sized room with a sink and table counts as a kitchen these days. I felt kind of bad. And for some reason, the dude I guess thinks I am some super-hooked-up soldier from Afghanistan, and he is always sending me emails trying to see if I want to partner with him on some contracts so we can make money in the war zone, with his zero military experience and subtle suicidal comments (seriously). I still talk to him, and would like to keep in contact, but have let him know with no uncertainly that I am likely done with Afghanistan forever unless its a nonprofit. The main reason I would like to keep contact is that, besides being a nice little German chap, he had lots of knowledge of Cebu as he has lived there for 10 years.

Anyway, we went out drinking. It was better than drinking alone. He had a girlfriend, but told me he would take me on a quick tour of the go go bars, and then we would end up at a legit disco. We didn’t actually go into any go go bars, he just showed me where they all were and told me who owned what and why not to go here or there, etc. We go to the disco.

I realize that not only are my batteries almost dead, but my cameras are full of photos to Guam and the Mariana Islands, which is odd, because I did not travel there so please stop asking.

The disco was about 25% tourists. It was enormous, and with a full menu and lots of drinks. It was packed. The foreigners weren’t loser dudes hanging out in corners, they seemed to be guys the locals knew, and they would get on stage and dance and sing along to the songs with everyone else. Most of them were guys in pretty good shape, not a lot of fat fogeys here.

It was a really good vibe. There were also lady boys every six feet, who would not admit to being lady boys, but if you did not spot the adams apple or deep voice, you could usually figure it out when he/she would lean in and offer to let you put it in her butt. I mean, girls just don’t say that.

An order of 20 chicken fingers was $2.00, a bucket of 6 Sam Miguel beers was $2.00, a shot of whiskey was .75 cents. I don’t know if these things were on special or not. The bass in this place was killing my head, as loud noises and I don’t get along too well any more. I asked if we could move upstairs and away from the stage where we can actually talk and Dave was all for it.

Upstairs we talked some more, and he told me about his other business plans. It was here that I realized how desperate he was to get out from under that bar he owned. His girlfriend, Kali, showed up and explained that they liked to come here to watch drunk westerners try to dance on stage, and get so drunk they leave with lady boys. Sure enough, it was going on all around me.

At the table next to us, a young couple was arguing. The female was getting a little fiery, and stood up quickly and aggressively, and the guy pushed he back down onto the loveseat and out of his face.

In case I haven’t mentioned it, Filipinos take the whole saving face thing pretty seriously, and getting involved in disputes with locals is a good way to get shanked or shot. It’s always best to let your local friends handle the locals, unless there is simply no other ways. The idea of not intervening with someone getting robbed or beaten is hard to swallow, but it is what it is when you are an outsider, and I learned this well in Afghanistan, watching kids getting beat up by grown men and almost creating a full scale international disaster when the ANP soldier i scolded cocked his weapon in response to my yelling, which prompted us to draw down on him, and a mexican standoff ensued but was quickly diffused by the subgovernor and my commander. I'll stay out of this fight.

Anyway, Kali went crazy on the boyfriend and was jabbering and wagging her finger, and then the girlfriend got involved in the jabbering and finger waving, too. The guy pushed them both aside and walked past, and told the girl to come with him and she wouldn’t. He walked towards her like he was going to grab her and take her, but Kali jumped between them and started acting like a black girl from the hood. The guy leaves and Kali comes back over and sits down. The girlfriend stays at her table.

We ask Kali what the fight was over and she said it was over money, and that the girl asked why he was taking her out if he would not let her buy anything. I suggested it was like walking the dog, that sometimes you just need to take the lady out for a walk, but the joke went over poorly with Kali and I thought she was going to rip my nuts off until Dave explained that I was joking. I made a comment that I would buy her as many drinks and foods as she wanted, and Kali relayed this message, and 5 seconds later I had a hungry disco girl sitting next to me. Her name was “Nikky”

I danced with this girl a few times, but let her know early on that I could not stay out too incredibly late due to morning appointments. I didn’t bother telling her I was meeting girls from a dating service, and I felt kind of bad for basically feeding her crap about looking at real estate and shipping operations, but whatever. I think it was probably around 1 am when we called it. I gave Nikky “cab fare” which was probably about 50x what she actually needed, she didn’t say anything I didn’t say anything. She told me if I saw her at this bar again she would probably be with her boyfriend, and he is very jealous and would try to kill me. I let her know that I was not a fan of being killed and would not talk to her if I saw her here again.

I was not in the mood to convince the girl to leave him, it’s not like I was going to be her boyfriend, and in case I didn’t mention I was drunk, well I was pretty drunk. She asked for my cell phone number and I didn’t know it, so she called her phone from my phone and we parted ways. Dave, Kali and I split a cab as they lived close to my hotel apparently.

This was an exhausting day. A plane trip, met 3 girls through the agency, met a guy trying to sell me his bar, and danced with a girl far too cute for me (well, as far as I can remember, I was drunk)

Day 11 Saturday

I was meeting Ian for breakfast. I plnned to take it easy today.

Largely uninteresting story, except that an older local guy, about 50, came and talked to me while I was waiting for Ian outside their offices. He was asking me the typical questions, said I looked military and told me about his dad being army. He was a little dude missing his front teeth, but a nice fellow who apparently ran some of the heavy machinery on the dock.

I told him what hotel I was at and he informed me that his church was right across the street, and invited me. Normally, I would be all about going to a Filipino Catholic church and flirting with girls in their Sundays best, but not only were my best digs currently dirty, but I had a feeling were I to walk into a church at this point I would immediately burst into flames. I passed.

He then informed me that Sunday/Monday were his two days off, and that his family came to Cebu from the rural area in the afternoon, and he wanted me to meet them. I passed.

Thenhe explained they all spent the day together, then they all went back to home togethe, and that I should go spend the night in his neighborhood and feast with the family. I passed.

Then he took out his wallet and showed me pictures of his daughters. I told him I would meet him after church, and we would hook up with his family. We traded numbers.

Of course, doing this on Sunday does mean I will miss the greatest DJ of all time: Attachment 7233

I asked Ian if the dude was on the up and up and he told me not to worry. Ian reminded me of the local culture, though, and told me if I was meeting the guy’s family it probably meant I was paying for dinner. I expected as much, not to worry. I’m not rich; I’m just reckless with money.

The social was odd. It was at a 5 star hotel on the island with the airport. There were songs, terrible songs, and the girls did skits. They changed clothes several times, had some costumes.

I mean, it was cute and all. And I am sure they loved the attention. But it was also very corny, very campy. There were a lot of guys there, from all walks of life. They asked we didn’t take many photos, because they used the photo events on their websites and the participants all have to sign releases, particularly the men, and I had to be careful not to get Mr. Occupy Denver in any pics.

Attachment 7221Attachment 7222Attachment 7223

This didn’t stop the girls from taking pictures on myself with my camera, the majority of which were out of focus, but I did get a few good ones.
It was pretty much me and Maddie the entire time, in between her performances. Other girls would stop at the table to talk, but when Maddie would come back she would give them the stink eye and they would leave.

I had corresponded with Maddie extensively over the last several months, so we had a lot to talk about, and overall, I had a great time getting to know her better. After the event, I went into town with her to a small get together with some of her friends.

Attachment 7224Attachment 7225



I still maintain very regular contact with Maddie. I have included some additional pictures she has sent me since then, her hair is grown out now, and the only reason I am including them is because quite frankly I think she is super hot.


Attachment 7226Attachment 7227Attachment 7228Attachment 7229Attachment 7230Attachment 7231Attachment 7232

We said our goodnights at the end of the evening. I could not tell if I was supposed to invite her back to the room or not. I mean, I wanted to, obviously. But I didn't. I don't know why. It's not like anything was stopping me. I also knew that I probably wouldnt be seeing her again this trip because she went back to work on Sunday.

We texted the rest of the evening, and I thought about inviting her back and how romantic that would be. Maybe I was feeling guilty. Maybe I did not want to lead her on. She seemed so hopeful and pleasant and, um virginic. I didnt want to corrupt this girl.

While smoking downstairs around midnight, a shanty food cart rolls up. All the hotel staff goes out, apparently this is their lunch cart. The guys is selling these little sausage rolls he cooks and wraps in little corn tortilla thingies, with some rice inside. They are bite size, not very big. But then again, they are a nickel a piece. I am shocked. So I buy 200 of them.

I thought the little dude was gonna crap his pants. I just wanted to feed the whole crew so they had left overs and I had some to take upstairs to eat myself to sleep. It takes the guy about 30 minutes to make all of them, and he is almost out of stock. I give him 1500 pesos, no change please. One of the girls at the counter lived in the hotel with her kids, she asked if they could come down and eat some sausage toritlla thingies and I was like hell yeah, call everybody, and got her to keep repeating that we were having a "sausage party."

Next update:
Meet the Family
A Surprise Telephone Call

Since some of you are confused by the maths (per a message on Steam)
and wondered how I may have gotten to and from Guam in 24 hours

Let me explain a flight from Cebu to Guam:
@1400 miles, just over 3 hours with perfect weather and a jet. A prop plane would take longer. No different than Dallas to LAX.

The reason you get much longer flights through commercial ticket searches is Guam to Cebu has a holdover at Manila, usually for up to several hours. You also have to change from the domestic to the international terminal or vice versa, which I explained in the update. This could take several hours in and of itself. Cebu Pacific apparently just started doing direct flights from Cebu to Guam, but not very often.

Not that I would know any of this, because I did not go. But thanks for your inquiry, please have apleasant day.

Who was the girl in the pink? I'm pretty sure I'm going to hell now.

I am colorblind. You mean from day 11? That is Maddie.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Major Robert Dump

I am colorblind. You mean from day 11? That is Maddie.

---

https://forums.totalwar.org/vb/attac...6&d=1347932825

On the left. So basically to you, she's only wearing a shirt? I wish I was color blind.

Yes, thats Maddie. I did not take that photo, she sent me that later thorugh email. I of course wish I had been on a boat trip with a bunch of asian girls,but fate is a cruel thing

I was not dissapointed

MOAR!

Day 12

I meet dad in front of the church just after noon. This church had loudspeakers stationed outside, right next to the guard with the auto shotgun. Very effective at converting people I am sure.

Dad tells me that the family is not coming to Cebu City proper, and that we will go and meet them by the village. This irks me just a tad. I don’t know why, but in retrospect, if I may pontificate, I would say it was because they assumed the big dumb American would be flaunting his “wealth”, and it would be better to stay and shop off the grid, as things were cheaper and they would get more bang for their buck. Perhaps this is ethnocentric of me, but in retrospect I do believe that is exactly what occurred, considering that I spent the bulk of my time with the family either eating or shopping. Oh well, I had a feeling this is how it would turn out…..

The bus ride was almost 90 minutes. I really didn’t feel at risk in an open air jeepney with dad by me, but I still kept an eye on everyone who got on and off. As it turns out, they had a different definition of “rural” than I did. They pretty much just lived in a suburb of Cebu, and the only reason the ride was so long was because there was a designated bus route. A Taxi could have gotten there in half the time, but I guess dad wanted me to save my money so I could spend it on the family.

We met them at the nice mall, Alaya. We met outside, and dad introduced me to the family. Unfortunately, only 2 daughters were there, and one was married with a newborn. She was pretty hot for just popping out a baby, but I digress. The other daughter was the youngest, 19. Also present was mom and 17 year old brother. Apparently the other 2 older sisters were working and the older brother was at some sort of event. The youngest daughter, Jan, may have been the cutest creature I had ever seen. This was too bad, I thought, because the two older daughters, closer to my age, looked just like her but not quite so angelic, and they were not there.

In another odd turn of events, dad ran off shortly after we had lunch at the mall. He said he was going to meet friends. Jan confided in me that he was probably going to drink with buddies, since he never got to do that on Sundays, and now that I was here to play the man of the house he could slip away. Jan had very good English, as did new-mom sister. Mom’s was pretty spotty, as was brothers. Little brother seemed kind of…um… dumb, like a typical teenage boy. One thing I had noticed on my entire trip was that it was always the girls I saw studying at restaurants and coffee shops, and going to and from school, hardly ever any boys. Oh, the culture. Anyway, I fed this lot at – guess where – Jollibee, for under $15. I wanted the fancy Japanese restaurant, but they wanted J-bees.

Sister had her baby, Jaden, and they brought the 6 year old boy of moms sister, Janlane, who didn’t like me at first, until he realized that I was the bringer of chocolate and Winnie The Pooh. Man, kids are easy.

As we were walking up to the higher level to watch some terrible stage show, I noticed a little bottom floor carnival/arcade that appeared not to be open, judging from all he kids pressed against the glass and fence, waiting for the place to open. This seemed odd since it was mid day, but I figured the Carnies were at lunch.

We head upstairs and watch a crappy show in the mezzanine below. Then I decided that I didn’t like the ratty clothes that the baby and the little boy were wearing and I took them to buy new ones. At that point, I figured what the hell, and started buying shoes and shirts for mom and sisters and brother. A pair of sneakers for $5? I’ll take it. A new pair of Pooh Baby Jammies for $1? I’ll take it. A ladies blouse, button up, for $3? We’ll take it. Funny thing, is that this was the expensive mall, haha. I bought a lot of stuff for them, to include crap for the little kids who weren’t present. I sprung for a couple of baby trikes, as the baby would obviously need one soon and there was apparently an infant cousin who was not present but roughly the same age. I felt like Santa Clause. One thing that struck me as odd is that they immediately re-dressed the kids as soon as I bought clothes.... stripping them naked in the middle of a shop, even the 9 year old, who was very much displeased with this, and I kind of felt bad for the little dude so I tried to block the show with my body when I saw his pants coming off. On a similar note, the baby had his diaper changed at the table when we were at Jollibee. In other words, this was like being in West Virginia all over again.

We hit the coffee shop. Everyone wanted Chocolate Mousse. Jan loves to make faces in her photos. I kind of wished she would stop, as I have more pictures of her sticking out her tongue and crossing her eyes than not, but hey, she is a doll either way I guess.


Attachment 7278Attachment 7279Attachment 7280


We head back downstairs later in the afternoon and I notice that the arcade/carnival still has kids just standing there watching. I ask Jan what is going on, why weren’t they open. She tells me that they were open, it’s just none of the kids could afford to play games or rides, because the place is too expensive for people in the neighborhood. She said people had complained about it and the carnival was considering moving elsewhere because they did not get enough customers there.

I go over to the ticket/token counter and ask how much for a credit. They tell me 4 pesos. Man. That’s not even a dime. This is going to be awesome.

I buy 4000 pesos worth of tickets and tokens and request that a couple of the carnival workers be the “distributors” of the credits, as I do not want to cause a mad scene, and a local would be better suited to make sure no one was getting more than their share at once. Another lesson learned from Afghanistan. The booth announced what I had done and all the little kids started screaming and bum rushing the arcade workers. I had only two caveats for the deal. The first is that this was for the kids only and that the adults could go without. That lasted all of about 10 seconds, as people followed their kids in and got into the action, too. I got over it pretty quick. Everyone was having fun.

The other caveat was that me and my adopted family got first dibs on the bumper cars. That one actually worked out. First photo on the bottom right is one of the carnies controlling a wad of tickets

Attachment 7281

Attachment 7282Attachment 7283Attachment 7284Attachment 7287Attachment 7288Attachment 7289Attachment 7290


Jan and her sister's baby. Mother of christ, that is a good looking girl

Attachment 7291



We had some fun, and then packed up to leave. A middle aged lady asked the family something, Jan responded, and began holding my hand. Okay, weird. I asked her what just happened, and Jan said the lady asked whose fiancée I was, and Jan apparently claimed me for herself. A little awkward.

We took some photos outside while waiting for a cab. When we sat our boxes down I think some teenage boys were going to make off with them, because teenage brother yelled something and went into kung fu stance as I was about to snap a shot, prompting me to turn and look at the 3 boys as well. Jan would later tell me that brother yelled that he and his soldier friend would chase them down and murder them, like I murdered Abu Sayyaf in Mindanao, if they stole our stuff, and they looked terrified and darted away. I was flattered.

Attachment 7292

Attachment 7293

Day 12 Continued, photo uploads not cooperating.. Actually, I just realized i have totally been uplaoding these things wrong, I am a turd....

We got back to the family home and everyone started trying on clothes and playing with their new toys. Mom told me in a not-so-subtle way that they were low on cash for food, and wanted to make a special dinner for me, so I handed her 2000 pesos and told her to knock herself out.

Their house was a small 3 bedroom, in a narrow corridor that probably used to be nice. Most of the surrounding shanty houses were of family, and everyone knew each other very well. I was quite the novelty. Some had apparently never seen a white dude. I had to crouch everywhere I walked.

They shared a shower and bathroom with the block of homes, and they all slept on the floor in the back rooms. They put beds down at night, and took them up in the day. The kitchen had a fridge and a range and a sink and a table. The den area was narrow like a hallway, with a DVD player, a TV, some flimsy chairs and the required photos of jesus and virgin mary decorating the walls.

This was what a middle class salary got you in the Philippines. Granted, the dude had half a dozen kids and they appeared to care for the entire block, but considering how clean and educated they appeared to be, I was surprised at the arrangements.

After some food and a little beer and a lot of revelry, I made another round of the neighborhood at sunset, at one point almost falling into the sewer/ravine thing that ran next to the neighborhood. I would imagine this place got ugly when it floods. Another thing I noticed is that there were no doors, no lockable entries and very few windows. I guess when you have nothing to steal and if someone is home all day, you don’t have to worry about theft. IT was clear to me that mom didn't work, and she pretty much cared for all the babies in the hood along with the other older ladies.

They offered me to sleep in their home. Considering I was the size of 3 of them put together and had a bit of a snoring problem, I was honestly embarrassed. And, there was no way I was using a community shower I would have to crouch in, considering I almost died taking a crap in the community toilet, a story I care not to get into.

So, I opted for a room in a nearby roach motel I had scoped out. It was dark, but still not too late, and the family strongly suggested Jan and I go for a walk. We ended up going back to the mall, her wearing her new clothes. We had some pie and juice and sat outside and talked about school and war and politics. She was a pretty smart kid. But she was also very religious and superstitiously catholic. And she wanted babies. Lots of babies. +1 for her.


Attachment 7294


https://i591.photobucket.com/albums/...s/P1000207.jpg

https://i591.photobucket.com/albums/...s/P1000208.jpg



I taxied her back to her house and she looked rejected. She wanted to spend the night with me. Her family wanted it, too. Now, from the perspective of wanting a real bed and a hot shower, I saw where she was coming from. But this was a really, really, really, really, really, really bad idea. I am a man, after all. And I was not looking to get into a Monday morning shotgun wedding. I promised her I would rent her a motel room after I left, so she could sleep well and enjoy the AC and get a shower, but only if she promised not to trash the room. She said that would be okay, but I could tell from her expression that a shower was not what she was after. I don’t know, maybe she just wanted to coo and cuddle, girls do that. Or, maybe she thought I was gonna go whoremongering.

Either way, a 5 foot, 90 pound, 19 year old, catholic, nubile, dark skinned island girl spending the night in the room of a single 37 year old man with no children and baby fever = pregnancy. I know my limits, and this was it. Goodnight, Jan, I will see you in the morning.....