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Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Back to Manila and mongering:

With monkey and Hilda firmly in hand I headed out of the Domestic airport and hailed a rickety old yellow cab. Hilda got in the back seat with the luggage while I got in the front with the monkey. I have always found it better to keep the luggage in the back rather than the car boot simply because it makes it harder for people to drive off with it. By now the monkey was becoming a seasoned traveler and she took to riding in a cab like it was the most natural thing in the world which is more than can be said for the driver who was little bit put out by the crazy foreigner whose monkey was pulling the sparse hairs on his arm.

Despite the monkeys best efforts we made it back to the Mayfair hotel where the friendly guard recognized us immediately and hurried to open the back door and help Hilda out with the baggage. I concentrated on paying the flabbergasted driver who took my two hundred pisos then promptly hightailed it out of there. Carrying the monkey on my shoulder again I walked into the Mayfair turned the corner and headed towards the main reception area where David Goldshaft along with the friendly receptionist were waiting for me. David looked up first and when he saw me he nonchalantly said, “hey mate how was Boracay, I see you picked up a new friend”. Just then the receptionist looked up and seeing the monkey on my shoulder let a surprise gasp but recovering quickly she smiled at me and said “yes Mr Martin would you like a room sir”? This was my first encounter with the unflappable Filipina who seem to take everything in their stride and over the coming years I was only to find a few of these rare creatures but I soon learnt to value them highly.

Hilda and I headed up to the room but when we got inside she turned to me and with a determined look said, “no monkey in room Martin”. Now I thought I had established that I was the boss but after one look at her face I realized this was a fight I was never going to win so it was down stairs to see Mario the bartender and enquire if he could keep an eye on my monkey. When I got downstairs Mario was there and he greeted me with a friendly smile and then gave the monkey a peeled banana. Straight away I knew Mario and the monkey would get on well so I asked him if he would mind looking after her for a while until I could find more suitable accommodation. Mario smiled and said, “sure no problem boss Martin I know monkey before when I live back in province you give me little money and I be the one to look after.” With this he gently held out his arm and the monkey with banana firmly grasped in one hand jumped off my shoulder and onto his arm. I remember thinking, oh well so much for monkeys loyalty, but then again I was also happy because it was obvious Mario would look after her when I didn’t have enough time.

During my time in Boracay I had become close to Hilda but this was Manila and no matter how close I felt the simple truth was I hadn’t come all this way to be with one woman. This was a precarious situation for me since I had genuine feelings for Hilda and yet I also recognized the need for me to be with other girls. After all this was Manila the sin city of the world and as a single male I had to make the most of it. I deliberated on my predicament for about 1 hour and then finally got up enough courage to ask Hilda, “hey babe do you have any relatives you would like to visit in Manila”? When she heard this Hilda looked me straight in the eyes and responded by saying, “ah honey you want taste different girl”. With this said she gave me a wry little smile and said, “you do short time honey Hilda stay hotel wait you”.

Well now this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind as I was hoping more along the lines of a sweet goodbye, a gentle parting of the ways and a hey let’s meet up sometime, I will come and see you in your bar sort of arrangement. I gave Hilda one of my best exasperated looks but to no avail and I decided then and there discretion was the better part of valor and to accept Hilda’s proposed compromise after all a little short time in another location would certainly be better than nothing and if this avoided confrontation with Hilda then why not.

For the next week I was out every night partying and chasing girls in all the bars in M.H.Del Pilar. That week seemed like a life time of drinking and total debauchery. I managed to visit most of the bars from Bloomers all the way up to Lovebirds on both sides of the street and even became a well known fixture in the blow job bars such as China Coast and Josies Pride. Del Pilar in those days was a subtle mixture of glitz and glamour mixed with dire poverty and unadulterated sleaziness, people from all walks of life rubbed shoulders in the bars all transfixed by the neon lights, cheap booze, booming music and scantily clad, nubile young Filipinas. It was a heady intoxicating time which I joyfully lived and excitingly absorbed with my entire being.
Being back in Manila was not exactly a healthy lifestyle but for me it was about as good as I was going to get. Here I was living the life that so many young men dream about and I was hooked. The mongering was now in my blood and I soon realized that for me, there was no going back.

Hilda was never exactly a hot tempered woman and she seemed to, on the surface at least, understand my philandering ways. At least this is what I thought until one night I came back at about 1AM to be greeted by the guard who with a worried expression grabbed my arm and said, “Mr Martin, Mr Martin, big problem sir”. I extricated my arm from his grip and with an even voice told him to calm down and just tell me slowly what the problem was. He looked me in the eyes and said, “Sir Martin they take your girlfriend they go hospital”. I looked at him as if he was completely daft and then it dawned on me that Hilda may have had a problem with the baby.

With that realization hitting me I grabbed my room key from the front receptionist and rushed up to my room. The bed sheets were pulled down and on the side table I saw a three quarters empty bottle of quinine tablets. I looked at the scene and then it hit me Hilda had taken the tablets. As I have mentioned in earlier chapters I had read the Lonely Planet guide book prior to coming to the Philippines and from that had learnt that there is some Malaria in the Philippines but mainly in the Palawan area. I wasn’t sure if I was going to Palawan but I figured what’s the harm in taking some anti malaria tablets and then my movements wouldn’t be restricted. I knew quinine tablets were fairly strong but I had no idea what effect taking twenty of them at one time would have however, I was about to find out in a big way.

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Bye bye Boracay:

As the old saying says all good things must come to an end and so it was with my trip to Boracay. Upon reflection I realize I could have stayed another two or three months and the drama that was soon to envelope my world would of never happened, however, there was no way I could see the future and in my heart of hearts I knew it was time to head back to the hustle and bustle of Manila if not for me then for the expectant mother Hilda. I had really enjoyed my relaxing stay on Boracay and during my two months there the millions of people who inhabited planet earth had seemed another world away. Life just drifted by one seductively lazy day after another and I literally had to force myself to leave the idyllic paradise of Boracay.

Having had all day to reflect on it and finally making up my mind I decided that Hilda and I would have two or three more days in Boracay and then head on back to Manila. That night over yet another type of fish soup and rice I informed Hilda of my decision figuring that she would probably like to get back to Manila as well but surprisingly she seemed a bit put out by my announcement and it was then that I realized Hilda had come to enjoy her comfortable hassle free existence as much as I had. After dinner we reclined in a hammock gently swaying underneath the coconut trees and it was then I bought up the subject of Manila again. Hilda listened patiently as I explained why I thought we should all go back to Manila then when I had finished she looked up at me with those beautiful Chinese eyes and said “no froblem it’s up to you”.

The next day early in the morning we packed what little baggage we had and then just as we were preparing to leave it hit me, what was I going to do with the monkey. I asked Hilda if it was ok with her if we took the monkey and she gave me another one of her withering looks that seemed to say how dumb can this man be. Just then the little old lady walked up to us followed by the young man who had acted as my pseudo body guard and in his hands he was carrying what looked like a bamboo cage with a monkey inside. When I saw this it dawned on me what had happened and I turned to thank Hilda only to see her smiling as she shook her head in pure bewilderment at how dumb her foreigner boyfriend could be.

Hilda gave the old lady a hug and a rapid exchange in whatever language they were speaking then she grabbed my shirt sleeve and pulled me into the corner. By this time I was totally confused and I asked her what’s the problem to which she responded just give me 2000 peso because I want to give it to the old lady because she has helped look after us so well. Well I could hardly refuse a pregnant Hilda with what seemed like a very reasonable request so I rummaged through my pockets found my wallet and pulled out 2000 peso which I handed to her and she in turn gave it to the old lady along with a hug and the age old sign of respect which in the Philippines equals the touching of the other a persons hand to ones forehead.

With our goodbyes to our new found friends complete we strolled down to the beach heading towards the bunka area with the young man carrying our bags and me carrying the monkey inside her cage. I could have easily carried the bags but the young guy and Hilda seemed most insistent that he should act as porter so I stuck to holding Hilda’s hand and carrying the caged monkey in the other. When we got to the docking area the boat boys ran to grab our luggage and but not before having a little snigger at the stupid foreigner carrying a caged monkey. I turned round to thank the youth for carrying our bags and slipped him a 500 peso note. When he received the money his features transformed as a brilliant beaming smile lit up his entire face. The young man shook my hand and then after assuring me he would always be there should I ever return to Boracay he literally turned and ran back up the beach towards the compound where we had been staying the last two months. I watched him run along the beach and then turned and waded out to the boat. As I walked in the crystal clear water I remember looking down at the sparkling white sand as it sifted through my toes and gently swirled around my feet and as I did so I couldn’t help but reflect on the idyllic time I had experienced on Boracay and I wondered if I would ever see this beautiful island again.

The boat ride was only about thirty minutes and it was a bit worrying for a pregnant Hilda and a somewhat distraught monkey, but for me, as I have always been a water lover, this was a fun experience. As the boat cruised through the sparkling waters and gently crested the small waves I turned back to look back at pristine Boracay gleaming like a tropical jewel in the sunlight and couldn’t help but wonder what the future would bring and I vowed no matter how this idyllic island paradise changed it would always hold a special place in my heart.

The ride to Kalibo was smooth and even though she was scared the gentle rocking of the boat and constant throb of the motor soon had Hilda lightly snoozing which left me time to have a chat with the boat boys and play with the anxious monkey. Within no time we reached the mainland and from there it was a thirty minute jeepney ride through the heart of Panay Island to arrive at Caticlan the capital city of Panay. Travelling in the jeepney with a pregnant lady and a monkey was a unique experience and we must have looked quite a spectacle because the Filipinos couldn’t keep their eyes of us or refrain from making sniggering little comments. As for me I didn’t really care what we looked like or how they judged us so I just concentrated on looking out the jeepney at the lush tropical scenery of Panay.

At the airport we checked in our luggage and I asked the lady if the monkey could travel with us on the plane to which she simply smiled and in a totally unflustered manner replied, “no sir the rules state that the monkeys and other animals must travel in the cargo hold. I tried to politely argue against this decision but she was adamant so in the end I put the monkey cage on the conveyor belt and she was transported into the cargo hold.

The flight to Boracay is only 20 minutes but while we were flying I couldn’t help but wonder how my poor monkey was faring down in the cargo hold. Hilda saw the worried expression on my face and asked me “what your problem honey” and I replied I am a little worried about the monkey she must be very scared. When she heard this Hilda just shook her head and turned to look out the airplanes window. In just under 20 minutes we landed at Manilas domestic airport and after walking across the tarmac we checked through the ticket collectors and hurriedly walked towards the baggage pick up area. We had to wait approximately 15 minutes and then the baggage began to come through. I grabbed our bags off the revolving conveyor belt and then looked anxiously for the monkey. I waited for a further ten minutes until everyone on the flight had collected their luggage but still no monkey. I turned to Hilda and in a panic stricken voice asked, “how do I report a missing monkey” when out of the corner of my eye I saw a uniformed lady approaching me carrying a monkey in a cage. Instantaneously I felt a surge of relief rush over me and when she presented the monkey to me I asked her why she was carrying the monkey and explained I had been waiting for it to appear on the luggage conveyor belt. With this she smiled at me and said, ”sir your monkey travelled first class in the captain’s cabin”.

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Moonlight Romance:

After a month or so on beautiful Boracay island I was in total laid back, beach bum mode. My skin was amber brown and my state of mind was one of major relaxation. I had been in cruise mode for the 2 months and this had in many ways been the perfect tropical getaway. Boracay in those days was not exactly luxurious and where I had chosen to stay was not much more than a little hut on the beach but it was certainly all that I needed. In a matter of months my lifestyle had changed from that of the pretentiousness up and coming corporate yuppie to that of a beach bum whose biggest care in the world was what sort of fish I was going to have for dinner. Even though I was never adhered to any sort of exercise regime whilst living on Boracay apart from gentle strolls along the beach and regular bedroom activities with a willing Hilda I found myself losing weight. My faded old jeans were now loose around my waste and my shirts purchased from the beach vendors seemed to have gotten bigger.

During our time on Boracay Hilda and I had grown close to each other and even though our communication was rudimentary there are some things that grown men and women know instinctively and such was the case with Hilda and I. We had spent literally two months living together and by this time we knew the ins and outs of each other’s personalities like a married couple but rather than familiarity breeding contempt it seemed to draw us closer together. Don’t get me wrong I wasn’t ready for a long term relationship and I always knew in the back of my mind I was visiting the Philippines to tag as many girls as possible, yet it was an undeniable fact that in a very short time period I had become exceptionally fond of Hilda and considered this lady my special friend.

Even though Hilda was now a little over 4 months pregnant this lady’s appetite for sex knew no boundaries. Maybe it was the sea air or the daily diet of fish, maybe it was because we were both so relaxed or maybe it was just a chance meeting of two sexually compatible people, whatever the reason Hilda and I had great sex and we had it as often as possible. Despite her pregnancy Hilda was game for just about anything and would eagerly try new sexual positions or new locations. In those days the night life on Boracay was pretty much limited to Bazura bar or one of approximately 5 venues that would show a video. I remember one night putting the monkey on my shoulder grabbing Hilda by the hand and walking about half a kilometer to Niggy Niggy Noo Noo’s where they had a movie I wanted to see. Hilda was not particularly interested in the movie but for her it was simply a matter of accompanying her man and at the same time staking her claim on me so the monkey knew who was boss. As we walked along the beach the monkey would perch herself on my shoulder and then she thought Hilda wasn’t looking she would let out a screech and jump onto Hilda’s head and begin to pull Hilda’s hair. This would always bring a torrent of abuse from Hilda in different Filipino dialects and then when she went to swat the monkey away the chimp would artfully dodge the flying hands and jump back onto my shoulder and just glare at Hilda with a look that said, ‘that’s one for the monkey, biatch’.

After a while we got to Niggy’s and here we sat and drank mango shakes while watching the movie. Whenever a new movie would come on there was always a crowd which always amused me because I figured all of guys chose to live on or visit Boracay to get away from our real world and yet none of us could truly reject the real world as was shown by our need for movies and other forms of entertainment which came directly from the world we had left behind. Hilda would sit and watch the movies mostly holding my hand or if it was a longer one she would fall asleep resting her head against my shoulder. The monkey on the other hand was an avid movie fan with a special liking of the action scenes. When a particularly vivid car chase scene or fight scene would come on the monkey would jump up and down on my shoulder almost as if she was partaking in the scene being played out before her.

The movie was a long one and by the time it was finished both Hilda and the monkey were asleep so as it ended and the credits rolled up I gently nudged Hilda and told her “come on hon let’s go back to our room. We paid the bill and proceeded to walk back to our room. We had gotten about half way when Hilda suddenly announced she was feeling “sexy” and grabbed my crotch making it abundantly clear that she was in the mood. Now I am not one to be backwards in coming forwards but I was a little perplexed as to where we were going to do it and what the heck I was going to do with the monkey. Somehow bonking Hilda on the beach with the monkey looking on just didn’t seem to excite me. I looked around and sure enough a little further up the shoreline was a suitable tree to tie the monkey too. I walked to the tree tied the monkey to one of its branches and then ran back down to sample the delights of my horny little Filipina.

By this time Hilda new exactly what I liked but rather than get stuck in a sexual rut she was always ready to try something new but first things first and as I reached her on the beach she deftly dropped to her knees unzipped my jeans pulled my male member out and proceeded to give me a mind boggling blow job. At the time I was feeling a little self conscious as I am not particularly in to public displays of sexual activity and my feeling of unease was not helped by the monkey who was jumping up and down on her tree branch screeching at the top of her lungs. So here I was standing in the middle of Boracay beach with my pants around my ankles, a screeching monkey in the nearby trees and a beautiful brown Filipina gently silhouetted in the pale moonlight sucking on my penis. I remember thinking well things could definitely be worse and slowly I relaxed forcing the monkey’s screeches out of my head and concentrated on the sound of small waves gently lapping at the shore and the wonderful sensations the orally adept Hilda was causing me to feel in my male appendage.

From day one I had always known Hilda was no vestal virgin but her prior experience aside I would like to think that I was partly responsible for improving her techniques to the point where in terms of sex this lady was an absolute firecracker. Hilda blew me for about 5 minutes but it soon became clear that no matter how hard I concentrated I wasn’t going to cum so rather than force the issue I gently pulled Hilda up into a standing position slipped her dress over her head pulled down her panties then holding her hand guided her into the balmy tropical waters that surround Boracay island.As the water engulfed us I could sense Hilda was a little bit worried probably because of her inability to swim but with constant reassurances whispered in her ear I gently took her to a spot where the water was about 4 and a half foot deep then with her legs wrapped around my waist and her arms wrapped around my head I gently lowered her onto my male member.

I don’t know how many readers have experienced making love in the water with the tropical moonlight shinning down on a beautiful brown skinned Filipina but for me this rates as one of my most memorable sexual encounters ever. Hilda although not an avid fan of aqua sex responded royally and it wasn’t long before she was sliding up and down my pole with all the vigor of a sexually active teenager. As with most pregnant women Hilda’s skin was literally blooming with health and under the moonlight she looked like a cross between a Chinese princess and an exotic brown skinned mermaid. Hilda rode me for what seemed like an eternity until finally she let out a wail and I felt little spasms overcome her course throughout her beautiful body.After Hilda was spent it was my turn but I knew doing it like this wasn’t enough for me so without further ado I cast my inhibitions aside and led Hilda to the shore and there where the waves meet the sand I laid her down and proceeded to make love with her like never before.

After about twenty minutes and three separate positions it was my turn to cum so I flipped her over into what is commonly referred to as the doggy position and proceeded to take her from behind. I thrust into Hilda alternating between gentle prods and vigorous thrusts all the time listening to her soft moans and sighs of appreciation. Doggy style has always been my favorite and with Hilda’s moaning, the feel of the waves swishing around my balls and the white moonlight subtly highlighting the feminine contours of Hilda’s water soaked body it didn’t take long for me to reach what can only be described as a truly mind blowing climax which literally rocked my world.

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Monkey madness in balmy Boracay:

A cool breeze was gently blowing off the ocean that night but Hildas matter of fact pregnancy announcement was like a mini bombshell and as I pondered the situation I I felt a clammy film of sweat developing and the small walls of the restaurant seemed to be closing in on me. I looked at Hilda and asked, “do you want to keep it” to which she replied, “yes I keep my baby”. This was the answer I had been dreading and suddenly that film of sweat got even more noticeable and those walls moved a foot or so closer. I was not exactly experienced at this but the natural male survival instinct kicked in as I nonchalantly inquired, “ah Hilda how many months pregnant are you”? Now I was fairly sure I had said this casually and hidden the real meaning behind my question but Hilda saw right through me and asked, “what your problem Martin you have a sick”? Guess that film of sweat was now a river and I must have turned a whiter shade of pale because Hilda let me stew for about ten seconds then laughingly said, “don’t worry it’s not your baby”. So there it was out in the open, and as the huge waves of relief descended on me I started to breathe normally again, the breeze was back, and my film of sweat vanished.

Upon reflection I realize I had no reason to sweat it but at that stage I was like so many young men before me and would have readily stepped up to the plate and taken responsibility for my actions. Now that I look back at the situation through more experienced eyes I am actually a little insulted that she didn’t try and make me believe it was my baby. At that time I was only 31 years old I had a bit of money and if push came to shove I was naive enough to do the honorable thing and accept responsibility. However this never happened and as it turned out Hilda had no intention of trapping me or anyone else. She was quite prepared to have the baby and bring the child up by herself. At the time I was quite surprised by her casual approach towards giving birth and parenthood but over the years I have learnt many of the Filipinas are like this and giving birth is no big deal. In later years I would often hear foreigners referring to Filipinas as LBBM’s (little brown breeding machines) but at the time I did not know this, so for me all I could feel was a sense of relief.

The rest of that evening was spent chatting over a delicious sweet and sour Lapu Lapu (Coral trout) washed down with copious amounts of white wine which had somehow made the transition from Chile and ended up in Boracay. Hilda informed me that she thought the father was some German guy who she had been with approximately 3 months ago and that she had planned to tell me but was just waiting for the right time. I asked her what her future plans were, where she was going to have the baby and next thing I knew the restaurant was closing around us. The time had literally flown by so I paid the bill and then strolled along the beach back to our humble abode.

That night in the nippa hut Hilda was feeling a little frisky but try as I might I just couldn’t shake the feeling of a little human being growing inside her and this was not exactly a turn on. In the end I claimed a headache from drinking too much wine and promised her I would attend to her needs another time. Hilda was not exactly impressed with my rejection but she reluctantly lay down beside me and with one leg slung over my torso fell soundly asleep.

Life on Boracay was delightfully slow paced and undemanding. The days were spent swimming in the ocean, strolling along the beach, sunbathing, reading a good book whilst reclining in a hammock, or lying in bed listening to the balmy tropical breeze rustling through the coconut fronds. There was not exactly an over abundance of things to do or mental stimulation and as the days drifted by I found myself becoming more and more of a beach bum and in total relaxation mode. Life was basic and easy, there were no challenges and Hilda even though she was becoming noticeably larger was just the perfect companion. This girl was so easy going and placid nothing seemed to phase her except for missing one of her compulsory three meals a day.

During the days it was a habit of mine to head out on a walk just to breath a bit of fresh air and get a little exercise. One day I was ambling along with no particular destination in mind when suddenly it started to rain so I ran to the nearest hut which in those days proliferated along the beach front. I sat in the hut at a small wooden table and ordered a mango juice watching the rain tumbling down when suddenly a drenched Filipino guy with a monkey on his shoulder walked through the door and said, “hey Joe you buy monkey”. I closed my eyes and shook my head thinking, I must be imagining things. This whole experience was surreal but as I asked myself, am I really seeing this, I vaguely registered him sliding into the seat next to me saying, “hey Joe you buy monkey, this very nice number one monkey”.

This guy was like some bizarre apparition from out of a Cohen Brothers movie. He was wearing what looked like an old sack for a shirt, a tattered and grubby pair of denim shorts and some broken sandals which had walked the proverbial thousand miles and back again. The guys hair was long with straggly grey strands falling down to his shoulder blades, the few teeth he had left were tobacco stained and there seemed to be a garden growing beneath his finger nails. On his shoulder sat a female monkey who was staring at me intently. I looked back at the monkey and suddenly she jumped from the guys shoulder onto my arm and started pulling at the protruding hairs. With this the guy put her leash in my hand and said, “monkey like you, you buy monkey Joe”.

At this stage in my life I had experienced my fare share of bizarre events but nothing ever like this and next thing I knew I found myself gently stroking the monkey asking the guy how much he wanted for her. Initially he asked for five thousand to which I made a counter bid of five hundred. We haggled for about 5 minutes and finally came to agreement at a price of 800 piso. To this day I am not sure what was going through my head but somehow having a monkey whilst in Boracay just seemed like the most natural thing in the world and it never occurred to me to think about the logistics of the situation or how Hilda would react. All I knew was that this monkey and I had some sort of strange affinity and for that reason alone I had to purchase her.

With the deal done and the monkey now sitting on my shoulder playing with the hair on my head the mysterious vagabond stood up and looking at me with an intense somewhat maniacal gaze said, “thank you Joe” and stepped out into the pouring rain disappearing as magically as he had appeared. I and my newly acquired monkey waited a further ten minutes for the rain to stop then I bought the monkey a banana and proceeded to stroll back down the beach fully intending to introduce Hilda to the new addition in our life.

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Sunburn and sand rash:

As I stated in the preceding chapter Boracay was a very different island back in the early nineties. From 1990 through to 1997 Boracay was in a sort of hiatus period. The early nineties represented the beginning stages of what was to become a fairly rapid development catering for tourists from around the world. At the same time these years also represented a time where Boracay was still a comparatively sleepy little island and life moved at a sedate pace. In the mornings visitors would wake to a gentle breeze blowing through the room and the sound of waves softly lapping against the shore. Most hotels or resorts had a restaurant of some description but for those travelers on a budget the beachside sari-sari stores would suffice and on any given morning one could find foreign tourists sitting on wooden benches tucking into Filipino breakfasts and washing it down with a bottle of mineral water. Normally these breakfasts would be composed of fish and rice but when the boats came in laden with supplies it was possible to get sausages and eggs and sometimes if you were really lucky pork chops or a steak.

The days on Boracay always passed slowly and were normally spent lying on the beach reading, frolicking in the sea with a Filipina partner, a slow pleasurable saunter along parts of the island and then in the afternoon enjoying a banana and mango smoothie before having an afternoon siesta getting ready for the evenings activities. As someone who had grown up on the beach I was totally at home with the laid back island lifestyle and would often spend hours at a time on the beach lying on the sand or swimming in the water. Ironically Hilda who had been keen to accompany me on my trip to Boracay seemed hesitant to expose herself to the sun and rather than lye on the beach or go swimming she would park herself in the shade underneath a coconut tree and just watch me. When I asked her why she didn’t want to be in the sun she explained she didn’t want her skin to get dark.

Occasionally I would drag her into the water childishly kicking and screaming but even then she would always have a pair of denim shorts with a bra and shirt to protect her from the sun. While I would spend my time enjoying the simplistic pleasures of the tropical island lifestyle Hilda would occupy herself chatting with some new found friends that seemed to make so easily or eating. Now I think back on it Hilda seemed to be able to eat amounts that belied her small frame and it was through Hilda that I was introduced to the delights of Green Mango with bagoong ( a salty fish paste sauce) along with taho (bean curd with caramel sauce).

I stayed in Boracay for nearly 2 and a half months and during my stay I witnessed Hilda’s stomach getting progressively larger which at the time I attributed to good living a healthy diet and lack of exercise. The truth was far from this but more on that later.

If you stay on Boracay for more than two weeks it is almost inevitable that you will brush shoulders with the local expat community and to some extent become intertwined with their small community. It was a regular habit of mine to enjoy a stroll along the beach each morning and it was during this walk that I would meet the local expats. Normally I would begin my walk about 8AM and the walk would last for about an hour on the way out and another hour on the way back. I had been doing the walks for about 8 days when one morning I was stopped by a group of guys sitting in plastic chairs outside a sari-sari store and they called me over offering me a drink. Feeling hot I accepted their invitation and walked over to their table only to see a bottle of Ginebra Gin and several large bottles of San Miguel beer along with some cheap drinking glasses. One of the guys poured me a healthy shot and said in a broad cockney accent, “here gov you look a bit hot try one of these to cool you down a bit”. At this stage I had only been in the Philippines just over a month and a half and I wasn’t really used to the expat lifestyle which included hitting the grog early in the morning. Since that time in my travels I have come across the similar groups of expats in a variety of different locations throughout the Philippines. As a bar manager I drink far too much but these guys make me look like a baby having just come off mothers milk. I have often wondered why they choose this lifestyle and I can only put it down to a lack of mental stimulation and social interaction, in short, boredom. Combine the boredom with a sense of having been there done that and a perspective that says ones best years are far behind oneself and you have the perfect reasons to numb your mind and drink yourself into oblivion. Lastly in the Philippines you do not have the social judgments that are inevitable in one’s own society and as a result it is easy to slip into the alcoholic lifestyle.

In the end I sat and chatted with this bunch of guys and managed to avoid the continuous offers of alcohol. After about half an hour I managed to escape and promising to meet them at the Bazura disco later on that night I headed back to Hilda and a hearty breakfast.

When I got back there was no breakfast waiting and an ominous air was surrounding our little resort site. Intrepidly I made my way to the little nippa hut shared by myself and Hilda and upon entering through the front door received a shower of shoes, clothing and whatever else she could grab all hurled in my direction amidst shouts of puntang ina mo. Most of the flying objects I managed to duck and quickly closing the door behind me I made a hasty exit heading towards the beach. All this time I thought I had gotten away with the Cassie encounter but obviously my free ride was over. Hilda had found out and now it was time to pay the piper.

I stayed on the beach for about two hours then began to feel the effects of prolonged exposure to the sun and as I made my way back to the nippa hut I realized I was the color of a cooked lobster. Having been raised by the beach in Sydney I was no stranger to a little sunburn but then again at home I wouldn’t be forced to avoid the vicious attacks of a jilted Filipina and to be honest I knew in my sun burnt state I was in for a painful experience.

I opened the door to the Nippa hut and there was Hilda lying on the bed with her back turned towards me. I slowly made my way to the bed and still getting the cold shoulder I proceeded to kiss her neck telling her how sorry I was and also mentioning that it was just a brief liaison which meant nothing to me other than casual sex. I then told her how she was the only girl who I had real feelings for and with that turned her round and planted a big kiss on those luscious Visayan lips. At first Hilda remained motionless but after the third or fourth attempt her resistance slowly began to fail and next thing I knew we were engaged in a hot, steamy and extremely passionate round of love making.

After the heavy session Hilda and myself crashed out to the sounds of waves gently lapping at the crystal white sands of Boracay and a gentle breeze blowing through the now open nippa hut window. Later on in the afternoon I took Hilda for a walk along the beach and made her swim. We whiled away 3 or 4 hours lying in the shade under the coconut trees, swaying in a hammock while drinking banana and mango smoothies and frolicking in the sun and crystal clear waters of Boracay Island. Living in a tropical paradise for approximately ten dollars a day together with a beautiful Filipina whose only wish was to please me in any way possible was definitely a high point in my life and to this day the memory of that time are implanted in my mind.

Later that night we headed to Bazura disco where I met up with some of the boys I had met earlier on in the day and once again they had commandeered a premium table and were getting stuck into the cheap booze except this time it was Tanduay Rum. Bazura at that time was an interesting mix of people. It was mostly the younger people who came from all areas of the world and were happily indulging in the hedonistic worry free tropical beach lifestyle made famous in the late sixties and early seventies. Back in those days Boracay was as much a lifestyle statement as it was a holiday destination and an essential part of that lifestyle was the Bazura disco. The Bazura was almost like an open air nightclub with 3 decades of music, a steady group of young tourists from all areas of the world partying the night away all mixed with a steady flow of alcohol and a heady carefree tropical beach environment.

Our days would be spent lying in the sun or relaxing in a hammock, swimming in the crystal clear aqua marine sea and eating fish, fish and more fish. In fact prior to this I had no idea how many different ways fish could be cooked, banka boat rides to neighboring islands were also a common occurrence and of course there was the extended drinking sessions with my newly found mates outside one of the numerous Sari Sari stores that proliferated along the beach front. The evenings were spent either making love in the nippa hut or on the beach at night, moonlight swimming, watching videos at one of the local restaurants indulging in extended drinking sessions or partying the night away at the ever popular Bazura disco.

Life moved slowly in Boracay and there was a distinct lack of mental stimulation, still I rationalized that I did not come to the beach for intellectual pursuits and it was only a short period of time for me to learn to relax and go with the flow. Life on Boracay was idyllic and all the problems of the outside world seemed far away and of no consequence. This was truly a great time and shall forever be rated as one of the best times of my life.

Hilda and myself stayed on Boracay for about 2 months and by the end of that time I found myself brown as tobacco and down to a very reasonable weight thanks to my diet of fish and continual walking along the beach and exploring the island. Contrary to this Hilda seemed to be getting fatter and her stomach was beginning to bulge. When you are with someone everyday you tend not to notice the subtle changes and it wasn’t until our friendly land lady pulled me aside and whispered “you be daddy, Hilda she look like fregnant” that I realized something had escaped my notice. When she smilingly told me her opinion I smiled and said, “no I don’t think so” but the nagging doubt had been planted in my mind and later that night when we were having dinner, with me none to subtly glancing at her slightly extended stomach, I asked her point blank, “darling are you pregnant”, Hilda then looked at me eye to eye and a simple "yes" is all she said.

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Sunburn and sand rash:

As I stated in the preceding chapter Boracay was a very different island back in the early nineties. From 1990 through to 1997 Boracay was in a sort of hiatus period. The early nineties represented the beginning stages of what was to become a fairly rapid development catering for tourists from around the world. At the same time these years also represented a time where Boracay was still a comparatively sleepy little island and life moved at a sedate pace. In the mornings visitors would wake to a gentle breeze blowing through the room and the sound of waves softly lapping against the shore. Most hotels or resorts had a restaurant of some description but for those travelers on a budget the beachside sari-sari stores would suffice and on any given morning one could find foreign tourists sitting on wooden benches tucking into Filipino breakfasts and washing it down with a bottle of mineral water. Normally these breakfasts would be composed of fish and rice but when the boats came in laden with supplies it was possible to get sausages and eggs and sometimes if you were really lucky pork chops or a steak.

The days on Boracay always passed slowly and were normally spent lying on the beach reading, frolicking in the sea with a Filipina partner, a slow pleasurable saunter along parts of the island and then in the afternoon enjoying a banana and mango smoothie before having an afternoon siesta getting ready for the evenings activities. As someone who had grown up on the beach I was totally at home with the laid back island lifestyle and would often spend hours at a time on the beach lying on the sand or swimming in the water. Ironically Hilda who had been keen to accompany me on my trip to Boracay seemed hesitant to expose herself to the sun and rather than lye on the beach or go swimming she would park herself in the shade underneath a coconut tree and just watch me. When I asked her why she didn’t want to be in the sun she explained she didn’t want her skin to get dark.

Occasionally I would drag her into the water childishly kicking and screaming but even then she would always have a pair of denim shorts with a bra and shirt to protect her from the sun. While I would spend my time enjoying the simplistic pleasures of the tropical island lifestyle Hilda would occupy herself chatting with some new found friends that seemed to make so easily or eating. Now I think back on it Hilda seemed to be able to eat amounts that belied her small frame and it was through Hilda that I was introduced to the delights of Green Mango with bagoong ( a salty fish paste sauce) along with taho (bean curd with caramel sauce).

I stayed in Boracay for nearly 2 and a half months and during my stay I witnessed Hilda’s stomach getting progressively larger which at the time I attributed to good living a healthy diet and lack of exercise. The truth was far from this but more on that later.

If you stay on Boracay for more than two weeks it is almost inevitable that you will brush shoulders with the local expat community and to some extent become intertwined with their small community. It was a regular habit of mine to enjoy a stroll along the beach each morning and it was during this walk that I would meet the local expats. Normally I would begin my walk about 8AM and the walk would last for about an hour on the way out and another hour on the way back. I had been doing the walks for about 8 days when one morning I was stopped by a group of guys sitting in plastic chairs outside a sari-sari store and they called me over offering me a drink. Feeling hot I accepted their invitation and walked over to their table only to see a bottle of Ginebra Gin and several large bottles of San Miguel beer along with some cheap drinking glasses. One of the guys poured me a healthy shot and said in a broad cockney accent, “here gov you look a bit hot try one of these to cool you down a bit”. At this stage I had only been in the Philippines just over a month and a half and I wasn’t really used to the expat lifestyle which included hitting the grog early in the morning. Since that time in my travels I have come across the similar groups of expats in a variety of different locations throughout the Philippines. As a bar manager I drink far too much but these guys make me look like a baby having just come off mothers milk. I have often wondered why they choose this lifestyle and I can only put it down to a lack of mental stimulation and social interaction, in short, boredom. Combine the boredom with a sense of having been there done that and a perspective that says ones best years are far behind oneself and you have the perfect reasons to numb your mind and drink yourself into oblivion. Lastly in the Philippines you do not have the social judgments that are inevitable in one’s own society and as a result it is easy to slip into the alcoholic lifestyle.

In the end I sat and chatted with this bunch of guys and managed to avoid the continuous offers of alcohol. After about half an hour I managed to escape and promising to meet them at the Bazura disco later on that night I headed back to Hilda and a hearty breakfast.

When I got back there was no breakfast waiting and an ominous air was surrounding our little resort site. Intrepidly I made my way to the little nippa hut shared by myself and Hilda and upon entering through the front door received a shower of shoes, clothing and whatever else she could grab all hurled in my direction amidst shouts of puntang ina mo. Most of the flying objects I managed to duck and quickly closing the door behind me I made a hasty exit heading towards the beach. All this time I thought I had gotten away with the Cassie encounter but obviously my free ride was over. Hilda had found out and now it was time to pay the piper.

I stayed on the beach for about two hours then began to feel the effects of prolonged exposure to the sun and as I made my way back to the nippa hut I realized I was the color of a cooked lobster. Having been raised by the beach in Sydney I was no stranger to a little sunburn but then again at home I wouldn’t be forced to avoid the vicious attacks of a jilted Filipina and to be honest I knew in my sun burnt state I was in for a painful experience.

I opened the door to the Nippa hut and there was Hilda lying on the bed with her back turned towards me. I slowly made my way to the bed and still getting the cold shoulder I proceeded to kiss her neck telling her how sorry I was and also mentioning that it was just a brief liaison which meant nothing to me other than casual sex. I then told her how she was the only girl who I had real feelings for and with that turned her round and planted a big kiss on those luscious Visayan lips. At first Hilda remained motionless but after the third or fourth attempt her resistance slowly began to fail and next thing I knew we were engaged in a hot, steamy and extremely passionate round of love making.

After the heavy session Hilda and myself crashed out to the sounds of waves gently lapping at the crystal white sands of Boracay and a gentle breeze blowing through the now open nippa hut window. Later on in the afternoon I took Hilda for a walk along the beach and made her swim. We whiled away 3 or 4 hours lying in the shade under the coconut trees, swaying in a hammock while drinking banana and mango smoothies and frolicking in the sun and crystal clear waters of Boracay Island. Living in a tropical paradise for approximately ten dollars a day together with a beautiful Filipina whose only wish was to please me in any way possible was definitely a high point in my life and to this day the memory of that time are implanted in my mind.

Later that night we headed to Bazura disco where I met up with some of the boys I had met earlier on in the day and once again they had commandeered a premium table and were getting stuck into the cheap booze except this time it was Tanduay Rum. Bazura at that time was an interesting mix of people. It was mostly the younger people who came from all areas of the world and were happily indulging in the hedonistic worry free tropical beach lifestyle made famous in the late sixties and early seventies. Back in those days Boracay was as much a lifestyle statement as it was a holiday destination and an essential part of that lifestyle was the Bazura disco. The Bazura was almost like an open air nightclub with 3 decades of music, a steady group of young tourists from all areas of the world partying the night away all mixed with a steady flow of alcohol and a heady carefree tropical beach environment.

Our days would be spent lying in the sun or relaxing in a hammock, swimming in the crystal clear aqua marine sea and eating fish, fish and more fish. In fact prior to this I had no idea how many different ways fish could be cooked, banka boat rides to neighboring islands were also a common occurrence and of course there was the extended drinking sessions with my newly found mates outside one of the numerous Sari Sari stores that proliferated along the beach front. The evenings were spent either making love in the nippa hut or on the beach at night, moonlight swimming, watching videos at one of the local restaurants indulging in extended drinking sessions or partying the night away at the ever popular Bazura disco.

Life moved slowly in Boracay and there was a distinct lack of mental stimulation, still I rationalized that I did not come to the beach for intellectual pursuits and it was only a short period of time for me to learn to relax and go with the flow. Life on Boracay was idyllic and all the problems of the outside world seemed far away and of no consequence. This was truly a great time and shall forever be rated as one of the best times of my life.

Hilda and myself stayed on Boracay for about 2 months and by the end of that time I found myself brown as tobacco and down to a very reasonable weight thanks to my diet of fish and continual walking along the beach and exploring the island. Contrary to this Hilda seemed to be getting fatter and her stomach was beginning to bulge. When you are with someone everyday you tend not to notice the subtle changes and it wasn’t until our friendly land lady pulled me aside and whispered “you be daddy, Hilda she look like fregnant” that I realized something had escaped my notice. When she smilingly told me her opinion I smiled and said, “no I don’t think so” but the nagging doubt had been planted in my mind and later that night when we were having dinner, with me none to subtly glancing at her slightly extended stomach, I asked her point blank, “darling are you pregnant”, Hilda then looked at me eye to eye and a simple “yes” is all she said.

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Boracay the tropical rendezvous.

Back in 1991 Boracay was a very different island than the Boracay of today. During the 1980’s it had experienced dual types of development as a response to the dual markets that were frequenting the island. On the one hand there were the richer mainly European tourists who liked a little luxury with their beach life. For them there were a series of slightly more up-market resorts and even some luxurious beach houses that Boracay locals had built, mostly using foreign money, and then rented them out for months on end. At the other end of the market there were the back packers turned beach bum, such as myself, who required less luxurious accommodation. Where I had grown up in Australia we were used to back packers and soon learnt not to lump them all in the same basket especially when it came to their financial resources. This however was not the case amongst the Filipinos who automatically judged you as having no money whenever they saw a back pack. When I first encountered this judgmental attitude I was a little perturbed but soon realized that I could use their superficial judgments to my advantage. This was my first taste of the Filipino obsession with appearance and it was to resurface many times in the coming years.

I had come to Boracay in August which was still officially the rainy season and as a result the island was not exactly crawling with visitors but that did not bother me as it meant lower prices and no problem finding decent accommodation. Hilda and I caught a bunker from Kalibo and were delivered right on the beach at Borocay. With help from the boat boy we unloaded our bags which were then placed rather unceremoniously on the sand along with various supplies the boat had been carrying. After dropping our baggage the boat boy looked at me expectantly which bought a sharp rebuke from Hilda who told him in no uncertain terms that we had already paid for the boat and if he wanted money he had to carry our luggage along the beach to where we were staying. This bought a disdainful look from the boat boy and he was back on the boat in a flash pulling up the anchor whilst casting hateful glances at the Filipina who was blocking access to his foreigner meal ticket.

With the boat boy gone it was up to Hilda and myself to carry the luggage along the beach until we found a suitable place to stay. I donned my back pack without a second thought and Hilda with an exasperated look picked up her bags and we started off along the beach. We walked for about 8 minutes when I noticed Hilda was lagging behind and there was a grumpy look etched on her face. Thinking that she was having a problem with the weight of the bag I offered to carry it for her but this offer was greeted by another exasperated look so I said to her, “no problem sweetie, we will stop at the next place we find and stay there”. Later I was to ask Hilda what was the problem carrying the luggage and she informed me that it was not her job to carry luggage, either the boat boy or someone from the hotel should carry it. Ah yes, another lesson in “face” and superficial appearances.

Within 3 more minutes we found a little compound just near Niggy Niggy Noo Noo’s which had about ten large nippa huts literally a stone’s throw from the beach. Hilda asked some local guys if there was an office nearby where we could book a room and they just smiled while pointing to a little old lady who was squatting underneath a coconut tree, intently watching a bowl of water boil. I looked at the old woman with tattered clothes, a dirty apron, missing teeth and the ubiquitous fag hanging out the side of her mouth and thought, ‘there is no way she will understand English so I will send Hilda over and get her to do the negotiations’, besides, she would probably be able to negotiate a better price than me anyway.

Hilda slowly approached the old lady showing the proper amount of deference for her age by greeting her good afternoon and pressing her forehead against the old ladies hand. Hilda chatted with the old lady for what seemed like an eternity but was in fact maybe five minutes maximum and then with a smile came over to me and said “we stay house there” and pointed with her lips to the nearest Nippa hut. I asked her how much we were to be charged and she informed me she had not negotiated a price yet but was getting round to it a bit later. As it turned out the old lady was originally from Negros and the two knew many people in common.

While Hilda chatted with the lady I decided to take an afternoon cat nap which had already become my habit and remains so 18 years later. The Nippa hut was basic with a Filipino sized double bed, a bed stand, a rickety cane floor, a small window which opened on a hinge and a nippa roof woven together out of leaves from the coconut tree. I dumped my bag on the floor took of my shoes and with the sound of wind rustling through the coconut trees, the nearby waves gently lapping against the shore mixed together with the gentle jibber-jabber of Tagalog and Visayan along with the easy going laughter of two new found friends, I gently drifted off into a sound and peaceful sleep.

I must have slept for a couple of hours because when I woke up the room was pitch black but I could hear Hilda and the lady outside and there was delicious aroma of Tamarind circulating throughout the hut. I stumbled two steps across the room, groped around in the dark for the light switch then proceeded down the steps to be greeted by the sight of Hilda, the old lady and three other women all seated around a fire enjoying what looked to be some like sort of fish soup.

Hilda saw me coming down the stairs and with the downward pointed hand motioned for me to come over and then offered me some soup. I looked at the old iron pot, saw a solitary fish head floating there and as it stared up at me with its one white eye, I decided this was one Filipino delicacy I was probably not quite ready for. Trying not to offend I politely declined the invitation to eat and announced that I would like to go for a walk along the beach. This announcement bought a series of worried looks from the local women and the next thing I knew I was being introduced to a strapping young Filipino lad who was the old ladies grandson and would act as my guide plus so called body guard. I asked Hilda if this was really necessary and after a quick dialogue with the old lady she assured me it was citing the example of a foreigner who had recently been killed by a bolo wielding Filipino.

The walk along the beach was actually quite interesting and due to language deficiencies I was unable to conduct a conversation with my newly appointed body guard which was actually a blessing in disguise as it left me free to savor the after sunset, sights and sounds of Boracay Island. Walking along the beach at that time of night was a very pleasant experience. Always present was a gentle breeze blowing off the sea and the sound of tiny waves delicately lapping against the shore. Every 100 meters or so there was a restaurant marked by burning torches which formed a sort of tropical island gateway beckoning the customers to come inside and sample their wares. I walked past several of these establishments savoring the intoxicating aroma of barbecued seafood and finally settled for a place that had a big sign board outside advertising an all you can eat Mongolian barbecue for 200 peso.

I asked my companion if he was hungry but he declined my offer and vaguely indicated that he would sit down on the beach outside the barbecue place and wait for me. I surveyed the board and the various options it presented then decided on the mixed seafood barbecue with special Mongolian sauce. As I have explained earlier I have a particular penchant for hot spicy food and I figured maybe the Mongolian sauce would have a little kick to it.

The open air restaurant was composed of two large tables covered with pristine white table cloths and a series of small tables each seating two to four people with plastic green chairs and the immaculately clean white table cloth. I chose a small table near the back of the restaurant and within a minute was approached by a beautiful young waitress who, flashing a set of pearly whites brilliantly off set by dark brown skin, asked me what I would like to eat. I stared at her absolutely spell binding face and statuesque body all wrapped up in a clinging colorful sarong, then muttered something inane like, “I want to eat you”. Without missing a beat this ravishing beauty simply leveled with me with yet another dazzling smile and asked me to repeat my order.

I settled for the Mongolian sea food barbecue and it was absolutely magnificent with huge tasty prawns, shellfish, crab and some tender fresh coral trout, which the locals call lapu-lapu, all smothered in a tangy, slightly spicy, Mongolian barbeque sauce. During the meal my bedazzling waitress was at my constant beck and call bringing me drinks and then the bill. I paid my bill and then in a moment of impulsive abandonment I asked her if she would like to take a walk along the beach, to which she replied, “sure I finish now so no problem”.
We exited the restaurant together and were immediately accompanied by my newly appointed body guard who my beautiful waitress talked to and he then melted into the darkness to where I assumed he would be following us but at a discreet distance.

We walked along the beach for what must have been half an hour and the easy going conversation with this exotic beauty was truly intoxicating. After a while we turned round and headed back towards the Mongolian restaurant and as we neared it I decided to throw caution to the wind and asked, “hey Cassie (yes that was the girl’s name) would you like to go somewhere just you and me”. When she heard this Cassie stopped walking, turned her face up to me and with that dazzling smile now whispered the words I could hardly believe I was hearing, “sure honey I like that but I only do short time coz I work early tomorrow”.

When I heard this I thought all my Christmases had come at once and then it hit me that I had nowhere to take this vision of loveliness. I looked at her and deciding honesty is the best policy said, “Cassie I have a small problem, I have a girl waiting for me in my room and I don’t know where to take you”. When she heard this she simply smiled and said, “I know place, you follow me”. Cassie then strode ahead of me while I stumbled awkwardly in the sand with my eyes firmly fixed on the swaying buttocks in front of me. Cassie knocked at a door of one of the huts spoke briefly to someone unseen and then a hand appeared with a pair of keys which Cassie promptly took and with yet another saucy waggle of her buttocks motioned for me to follow her towards one of the nippa huts at the back of the compound.

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

By this time I had readjusted my body clock to a regular routine of waking up around 10 AM so the early morning start of 8AM required to get us to the domestic airport was a big call. I have never been one for alarm clocks as I have always had the ability to wake up at a certain time no matter how little sleep I have had previously. That night I had a great session with Hilda who was just getting better and better as she grew more comfortable with me and even though I was dog tired at the ending, I managed to call reception and ask for an early morning wake up call.

The wake up call came at 7 in the form of a gentle knock at the door followed by an annoying phone call both of which jarred me awake but failed to rouse the soundly sleeping Hilda. At the time I was amused by Hilda’s ability to sleep through just about anything but I was soon to find out this and the ability to sleep anywhere under any conditions, are common traits amongst Filipinas. I stumbled into the shower and let the water pour over my body and into my eyes causing me to slowly wake up and get ready to face yet another exciting day in the Philippines. After that I tried to gently rouse Hilda but there was just no way this was going to work so while she slept I gently slipped down her panties, spread her legs and climbed on board for another round. Needles to say my wakeup method was successful and within half an hour we were downstairs in the Mayfair’s courtyard tucking into a hearty breakfast prior to heading down to Boracay.

After breakfast we sauntered outside to be greeted by the guard who by this time knew me well and I asked him to get us a taxi to the domestic airport. It took him about ten seconds as he walked into the middle of Mabini street and with total disregard for the oncoming traffic proceeded to blow his whistle and hail a cab. The cab pulled over and the guard took our baggage placed it in the taxis boot then told the driver in an authoritative tone, “domestic airport sigi”.

The drive to the airport was interesting because at this stage I had never really ventured further than the Mayfair hotel in Mabini street and to avoid the traffic the driver took some shortcuts through what I would have described back then as slums. I had been to India before the Philippines and although similar in many ways this was also totally different. As we drove through some of the back streets on the way to the airport it seemed that everywhere I looked. There were contradictory sights dilapidated squatters shacks with rusted corrugated iron roofs next to modern freshly painted houses, snot nosed kids next to girls dressed in expensive high heels and skin tight jeans and the latest fashion tops, old and young women washing clothes in a large basin while on the other side of the street raw sewerage ran freely. As we passed through the kaleidoscope of contradictory images I simply sat back and absorbed it all thinking how different the sights and sounds were from what I had been grown up with. For me this was an eye opener but when I looked over at Hilda to express my interest I saw that was soundly asleep, obviously for her sights such as these were nothing new.

After about an hour of traveling we arrived at the Domestic Airport and the driver pulled up besides the glass doors and proceeded to remove our luggage from the boot. Once our luggage was safely unpacked I paid the driver exactly what was on the meter plus gave him a 50 peso tip because he had been honest and put on his meter rather than try to demand an exorbitant price because I was a foreigner. Coming from Sydney I was not used to having to tip taxi drivers but I soon learnt this was not Sydney and tips are very much expected and form part of Philippine etiquette.

We proceeded through the glass doors and then I just stood there quite amazed by the chaotic scene that lay before my eyes. There were literally people everywhere and like so much of the Philippines there was no signage to tell you where to go let alone where to check in. We stood there for about ten seconds then I felt a gentle tug on my shirt and looking down I saw Hilda pointing to a long line of people and she innocently said, “we go there” and pointed with her lips to the longest line in the airport.

We stood in line for about half an hour then after checking in were told to take a seat and wait for our flight to be called. I sat in the white plastic chair with hundreds of Filipinos milling around me and at that moment it seemed that I was the only foreigner for miles around. This was a disconcerting feeling but I consoled myself by thinking, “what the heck you came here partly because it is so different from your own country so relax and go with the flow”. Best of all I had a gorgeous Negros girl beside me and I was looking forward to a few happy days living the beach-bum lifestyle together with my little brown Filipina. As we sat there I noticed Hilda was behaving like a diminutive little brown mouse and when I asked her what’s wrong she just smiled and replied, “nothing wrong” then ducked her head again as if trying to hide in her top.

Over the years I was to come across situations such as this many times and realize that the girl I was with was actually ashamed to be with me because people were staring at them and making comments about her being a prostitute or a girlfriend who only went with me for money. This was my first experience with Filipino judgmental society but being a new comer I had no idea what was going on so I just put my arm around Hilda to comfort her and politely smiled at the passersby.
After about half an hour the people around us proceeded to rise and head towards a glass door in the far right hand corner. I had not heard any announcements however I just had a feeling these people knew something we didn’t so I grabbed Hilda and said come on honey we catch the plane now. When we got to the glass door an attractive air hostess asked to see our tickets which I presented on behalf of myself and Hilda and after giving them a cursory glance she waved me on with instructions to proceed through the glass door.

As we opened the glass door a wave of heat hit us from the tarmac and made me realize the airport inside was actually air-conditioned quite nicely. We strolled across the tarmac for about two hundred yards lugging our hand luggage then proceeded to ascend the portable steps that led to the planes open back door. Just as we did this for some reason I was reminded of Elvis Presley standing on steps like these in a studded white jump suit waving to adoring fans. To this day I cannot say why I was reminded of this image and can only assume for some reason it had made an impression on me in my youth.

As we slowly ascended the stairs I noticed Hilda was a little nervous and I asked her what the problem was and she replied I never been plane before. Since I had grown up traveling on planes most of my life it had never occurred to me that other people would be so afraid of flying so to reassure I said something predictably inane like, “don’t worry honey there is nothing to be afraid off I have been on hundreds of flights and never had a problem”. This seemed like the right thing to say but it didn’t seem to reassure Hilda in the slightest and when we entered the plane she sat down in her seat and attached herself to my arm never letting go until we landed 32 minutes later.

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

After two months in M.H.Del Pilar I was becoming part of the scenery. All the staff at the hotel knew me and the guard would wait to see whom I would bring home with me after a jaunt down Del Pilar. The Filipino guard was actually a pretty good bloke and I would often see him offering assistance to the more intoxicated guests staying at the hotel. Another guy who is part of the Mayfairs history is Mario the bar tender. Mario was basically a sleaze bag with what I refer to as the cricketers moustache made so famous by the Australian cricket team during the mid seventies to the early eighties. I don’t know why but personally I have a problem with Filipino men who bear the “machismo” mustache. Invariably the mustache is symbolic of a hostile attitude towards foreigners or at the very least a sort of sleazy, crafty approach towards life. But sleaze bag or not Mario was entertaining and he could always whip up a quick drink or regale guests with a humorous story of something that happened to him or somebody he once knew. Like Dave and Ken Mario was a wealth of information and seemed to know everyone but in the end my hesitancy to befriend him proved be the correct choice as he was summarily fired for theft of hotel stock. Once again my instincts concerning the mustache Filipino male proved correct.

By this time I had settled into a regular routine which would include an afternoon bar hop with David and maybe a quick short time to be followed by a night time bar hop which somehow always culminated with a visit to Visions for a late night drink and probably a bar fine. During my afternoon bar hops I would often run into Hilda standing outside Punchline and occasionally I would go inside and buy her a drink and have a little chat. Hilda always seemed laid back and very accepting of my “butterfly” ways. She would see me come and go with a procession of different girls but at no time did she ever give me grief about any of them, in fact quite the opposite, many a time she would see me walking down the street hand in hand with my bar fine and she would merely smile and wave hello. Half the time I am sure she knew the girls I was bar fining but she would never acknowledge their existence preferring instead simply to smile at me and give me a kiss on the cheek. Now I look back on it I realize this was probably her subtle feminine way of marking her territory.

Hilda and I settled into what I would call an easy going friendship and to this day I have exceedingly fond memories of her and I will be eternally grateful for all the things she easily taught me about her country and the Filipina species in general.

After doing the M.H.DelPilar and Mabini street for a two month period I decided there had to be more the Philippines than the endless little brown girls and rounds of Jack Daniels and coke. So once again it was back to my handy Lonely planet guide to the Philippines where I discovered Boracay beach. I read about Boracay and having grown up in a beach area and having experienced the Maldives a short time before coming to the Philippines, I decided Boracay was a place I should see. With visions of a tropical paradise firmly implanted in my mind’s eye, I sought out David and asked him about Boracay. David was as usual a wealth of information and as he showed me the map hanging in the travel agency office pointing out Boracay he asked me “mate who are you going to take down to there”? I looked at him and naively asked “you think I need to take someone” to which he replied “sure mate , Boracay is nice but it is hardly a place to pick up girls. There are a few hanging around but nothing to really party with after having been in Manila these last two months”. I thanked Dave for his advice and after he had booked two plane tickets for me to Boracay we decided it was time to find me a Boracay partner.

While we were walking down Mabini dodging the pot holes and constant beggars with their hands out David said “mate don’t be in any hurry to chose anyone to accompany you to Boracay all the girls will love to go there with you so just take your time. That day our first stop was Firehouse followed by Bubbles and the Delcima Club. In all these bars it was a quick visit with a few drinks and a social chat with some girls but in the end I didn’t find anyone whom I thought would be a good partner for my time in Boracay so in the end it was inevitable that I found myself walking up Del Pilar heading towards Visions.

Just as we got near Visions we passed Punchline and sure enough eagle eyed Hilda spotted us and shouted out “hi David hi Martin. Come inside we have new sexy lady.” Upon hearing this David looked at me and whispered it’s probably bullshit but what the hell it’s only one drink and then if nothing here we can head to Visions. David and myself walked into Punchline and straight away we were presented with two gorgeous young things with dark skin firm little tits firm rounded bottoms and mud between the toes. David settled right in and bought both the new girls a drink as he balanced each scantily clad young nubile on his knees. Watching this I was impressed and I found myself wondering how David could have the street so wired that he actually had former bar fines touting potential new bar fines for him. This man definitely had life figured out and I decided then and there to some extent emulate this man who was rapidly becoming my mongering hero.

Whilst David chatted away with the two new girls I found myself sliding into another easy conversation with Hilda and after about three drinks and a little grabbing of protruding body parts David loudly announced “well mate I am going to do a double header. This pair of bookends is just too good an opportunity to pass up. If you want just go on to Visions and I will catch up with you tomorrow”. I looked at Dave and at the two scantily clad dark brown girls giggling as they gently stroked his male member through his jeans and said, “yeah I can see why”. “You know what mate I think Hilda here is a great girl and we seem to get on really well so I think I will ask her to come to Boracay with me”. David smiled and said yeah that’s a great idea Hilda is always pleasant company”.

I asked Hilda if she would like to accompany me to Boracay and for an answer she gave me a beaming smile and jumped up to get her mamasan Vicki who ambled over and asked me you take Hilda Boracay” to which I replied, “yes mummy” and then she held out her hand asking me, “how long you take Hilda for” and it was just then that I realized if I was to pay for the entire time on a daily basis it was going to add up and I really didn’t know if I had enough money. I looked at David imploringly and he understood my predicament immediately. David took the mamasan together with Hilda into a corner and chatted quietly with her then 5 minutes later with a sly wink to me he said “give mummy Vicki 8 thousand piso and Hilda is all yours”. At the time I only had about 3 thousand piso on my person so I borrowed another two thousand from David and told the mamasan I would bring the balance by tomorrow or if for some reason I couldn’t I would give the money to David who would bring it in for them. This seemed to satisfy the mamasan and without further ado David and myself and three hot young Filipinas were out of there and heading back to the Mayfair for yet another night of fun and games.

That night I literally had awesome sex with Hilda, she was a little Negros wildcat. Maybe it was the promise of an extended stay in Boracay or maybe it was a genuine attraction and I can still vividly remember the painful shower as the jets of hot water hit the scratches on my back. After my shower I woke Hilda up and gave her the remaining balance of money owed to the bar and instructed her to pay the mamasan then come back because the next day we were heading down to Boracay.

Hilda was gone for about three hours and just as I was about to give up on her and head out to try and find another Boracay companion I heard a little knock at the door and when I opened it there was Hilda with a travel bag hung over her shoulder. She looked up at me and say sorry me long time I get bag from home.” Feeling somewhat relieved and with my faith in human nature now restored I gently guided Hilda to the bed and proceeded to work on a new round of scratches on my back.

Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

By now my initially planned two week visit to the Philippines had turned into two and a half months and it was rapidly becoming very obvious I wasn’t in a big hurry to get home. In fact this place, although totally different from Australia or New Zealand, had in a very short time become my home away from home except with pussy included. Life was slightly chaotic and yet at the same time delightfully predictable. To be honest there was quite a lot to do in Manila and yet it was very rare that anybody would do anything apart from going out to a restaurant to eat or go to a bar to drink and carouse with an luscious assortment of bar girls.

Ken Carbry, who along with David Goldshaft had become quite a good friend of mine, would often invite me for a game of golf at Intramouros or a massage at one of the parlors along Mabini Street. Ken epitomized the easy going laid back Australian who never seemed phased by anything. He had literally been there and done that and I would marvel at his capacity to cut through the drama so inherent in Filipinos. Ken was one of those unflappable people who could handle multiple problems always keeping his cool and minimizing any drama thereby stopping a small problem from becoming a big problem, which if left in the hands of Filipino’s, is exactly what would have happened. Ken had a comfortable existence in the Mayfair hotel and was extremely well liked and respected. Over the years he had become very much part of the local scenery in Ermita and knew his way around as well as anybody.

I distinctly remember the first time I accepted his invitation to try out the local massage parlor 3 doors down from the Mayfair hotel. We were sitting in the outside restaurant section of the hotel camped underneath the overhead fan to get a little relief from the ever present heat and humidity when Ken suddenly piped up, “you look like you could use a soothing massage mate”. At this stage of my life I had never really gotten into massages simply because I never felt the need but looking at Kens mischievous smile I realized this could be quite an entertaining massage so I readily agreed and we headed out onto Mabini Street and into the dingiest sweat reeking excuse for a massage parlor I have ever had the misfortune of experiencing.

I looked at Ken and asked, “are you serious”, to which he replied, “sure I am kid, trust me you will like this”. With that he then opened a door at the back of the dingy room and we entered into a well lit reception area where a slightly mature and crasly madeup young lady looked up from her desk and with a learing smile all over her face said, “welcome back uncle Ken we miss you too much”. Ken smiled back and gently brushed off the compliment by saying, ”Hi Lucy always good to see you love. This is my friend Martin and he needs a special massage, in fact he needs the best masseuse you have available”.

Lucy looked me up and down with her gaze lingering on my crotch area then said, “sure no problema uncle Ken, Lucy get Martin number one massage girl all Manila”. We gave 400 peso each to Juicy Lucy who then handed us each a key and pointed to a swinging door saying, “have a good time handsome man” and then let out a giggle more appropriate for a ten year old than a fully grown woman. I followed Ken through the swinging door and then took a turn left to enter a change room full of wooden benches, wooden lockers and a shower area. I looked around the dingy change room area noticing the mould on the walls and the green and the brown rust on the shower heads and thought to myself what the hell am I doing here. I voiced my doubts to Ken asking, “where the hell have you bought me you dirty old bugger, what kind of a shit hole is this” when he smiled at me and said, “this my boy is the real Manila, give it a chance and you will see”. Having said that he then stripped down and headed for the shower telling me to, “hurry up, grab a shower and let’s get into the steam room”.

Now why anybody would want to experience a steam room in the humid climate of Manila where one only had to raise ones arm to break out in a sweat, was totally beyond me, but at this stage I was game for just about anything, so it was a quick shower and then wrapping a towel around myself into the steam room.

Within 5 minutes of entering the steam room Ken and I were both surrounded by a pool of sweat and yet strangely enough I was feeling great. I could feel the alcohol and other toxins literally pouring out of my body, this was like a sort of deep cleansing therapy and it felt fantastic. Now I know it seems like a contradiction in terms having a steam bath in a tropical climate but trust me it is an awesome experience and everyone I know whom over the years I have turned onto this past time, have come away raving about it.

Ken regaled me with stories of his antics in Manila and I was literally glued to my seat as the expertly told stories and dry anecdotes rolled off his tongue and transported me onto the streets of Manila in areas that only a few people get to experience. After what was about twenty minutes both of us were several pounds lighter so we headed for the showers to cool down and get ready for the massage.

After the shower Ken asked me what number was on my small key and I told him three. “Ok” he said “follow me” and then led me down the corridor to a small room numbered number 3. “Just go in there kid and wait, oh and by the way, if you cum you should give the girl a 300 peso tip”. When I heard this I was a little confused wondering what the hell is he talking about, it’s not likely I am going to cum from a simple massage. I looked around to tell him it takes a lot more than a massage to make me cum but he had already disappeared into a room just down the hall and was now beyond earshot.

I knocked on the door but there was no answer so grabbing hold of the door knob I hesitantly twisted it and entered the room. Inside the room was a simple bed with a cream colored vinyl covered mattress and two towels rolled up at the end of the bed. Attached to the far wall was an overhead fan which I promptly turned on and then wrapped a towel around me and lay on the bed waiting to see what would happen. After about 3 minutes my curiosity was answered by a gentle knock on the door to which I replied “come in” and as I looked up, in walked juicy Lucy scantily clad in a short black shiny skirt, boob tube top and fishnet stockings. I was a little taken aback which must have been very obvious as Juicy Lucy looked at me with what can only be described as a look of pure unadulterated lust and with a mischievous gleam in her eyes she purred, “Martin relax, Juicy Lucy give you number one massage in all Philippines”.

Juicy Lucy cannot have been more than 23 years old whereas I was 31 and yet it seemed to me Lucy had far more experience of life and I was about to be the beneficiary of this experience. On the one hand I was eager and excited but on the other I felt a little like the proverbial fly trapped in a spider web.

Juicy looked at me again with that lascivious glint in her eye and instructed me to turn over and lye on my stomach. She then poured some sort of oil all over my back and proceeded to gently massage my back like I had never experienced before. After the back she oiled my legs and proceeded to give them a thorough work over. This was all too much for me and slowly I drifted into a gentle, extremely peaceful slumber.

I am not sure how long I was out for but I was gently awaken by Juicy Lucy’s firm hands as she turned me over and proceeded to massage the front portion of my body. This massage was so soothing and very soon I was drifting off to sleep again when all of a sudden I felt a pair of soft yet strong hands fondling my cock and balls. I am not sure what I was expecting but I remember at the time thinking, now this is an unexpected surprise, I think I better just relax and go with the flow. Feigning sleep I let Lucy gently play with my member until it grew and then I felt a pair of silken lips slowly envelop me.

Lucy performed her well honed oral skills on me for what must have been about fifteen minutes but seemed like a lifetime of sheer ecstasy. She had that unique knack of being able to tell when a man was just about to climax and suddenly stopping so the orgasmic sensations hit you but never completely. The third time this happened I thought, this is how women must feel having multiple orgasms. Lucy bought me to the edge about 5 times then on the sixth time just as I was about to explode I felt a well oiled finger slowly insert itself into my anus and Lucy looked at me and with a sly look said “give Lucy your milk honey”. The lustful look on this woman’s face coupled with the well oiled hands massaging various internal and external parts of my body was all too much and within seconds voluminous amounts of my male seed erupted like Mount Pinatubo into her mouth. Without missing a beat Lucy swallowed everything and then with a little wave and provocative waggle of her ass she exited the room.

I remember lying there thinking, wow I have just had my world well and truly rocked, when suddenly there was a firm knock on the door and I heard uncle Kens familiar voice instruct me to get up and head for the showers. It took me a further few minutes to regain my composure then on still shaky legs I headed for the shower.

After a cooling shower myself and Ken were ready to leave and as we proceeded out passing through the front foyer area, there was Juicy Lucy looking up at me with a strangely expectant look on her face. Still being a “newbie” I smiled at Lucy sauntered over and gave her a little kiss on the cheek then walked out the door. As I hit the street I turned to tell Ken all about my fabulous experience only to find he wasn’t there. I waited a little and then the door opened to reveal uncle Ken with an indignant looking Lucy clinging to his arm. Ken looked at me straight in the eyes and said “hey kid what did I tell you to do if you cum” and then his words came echoing back. Sheepishly I dug through my pockets only to find 500 piso notes so quickly I handed one of these to Lucy who promptly hugged me and announced for the entire street to hear. “Lucy like Martin, Martin come back and Lucy give back to back special service second time”. I thought I heard some sniggers from a group of Filipino guys standing ten feet away but at this stage I was beyond caring so I gently caressed Lucy on the cheek again and saying my goodbyes started the short walk back to the Mayfair.