Tag Archives: Asian Escapades

C How They Made Me! Chapter 61



Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 61

The Happy Hooker my introduction to Angeles.

For my first night in Angeles I didn’t even go out preferring instead to stay in the hotel and get a good nights sleep. Yeah, yeah, I know it sounds weird, but I was dead tired, didn’t really know my way around, and Wally already had a girl, so there would have been nobody to keep me company or show me the ropes.

After a good nights sleep I woke up at ten and headed downstairs for breakfast. They had a small little restaurant in the Bonanza which served decent enough but basic food and always had a cold beer or a hot coffee. Wally was already there having just said goodbye to his girl so I joined him and we made plans for our bar hop that was going to happen later that day.

Over breakfast Wally gave the basic lowdown on Angeles telling me about Fields Avenue and some of the bars there. At this stage I had no idea of the lay of the land and I could feel my excitement level rise. After Wally had imparted his words of wisdom I was ready to set out and explore Angeles, so summoning up a trike, that seemed to be constantly parked outside the Bonanza, I made my way to Fields Avenue.

Just as I hit Fields some of the bars were opening and as I stumbled into one it was very obvious I was the first customer. My first impression was that these bars were a far cry from Manila. I had gotten used to Visions Firehouse, Superstar, Mistys and bars of this ilk, where there were large numbers of girls and the girls were all dressed in bikinis. Here in Angeles it was totally different. Many of the bars had five or six dancers and I was often the only customer in the bar. This seemed to be a much more simple and relaxed scene, with an emphasis on personal communication between the girls and the customers.

In Manila there was a sense of almost frantic urgency that pervaded the whole scene, everybody was in party mode and it was very much a night scene but here in Angeles the bars started happening a lot earlier and there was a definite afternoon market where the emphasis was as much on drinking as it was on chasing girls.

I wandered into about four bars stopping to have a drink in each buying a few ladies drink and just talking with the girls but not seeing anybody who attracted me I kept on moving. To be honest I was thinking this ain’t bad but it’s nothing compared to Manila and I was giving some thought to checking out tomorrow and heading back to the big smoke. Just as these negative thoughts were beginning to formulate I saw this hot looking girl standing outside a little bar called the Happy Hooker and all thoughts of returning to Manila completely left my head.

I am not sure what it is but I have always found myself attracted to a hard working girl and this girl was certainly that. There she was standing outside Happy Hooker with clingingly tight lurid yellow hot pants that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

I didn’t know it at the time but Daisy and myself were going to develop a sort of relationship. Now when I say relationship I do not mean in the traditional sense, but in a sort of sexual and friendship sense. Daisy was to become a regular sex partner plus a friend. One thing that I really like about the Filipina bar girl, is her ability to combine a sexual relationship with friendship. Very few girls can admit to themselves that they are prostitutes and they live in denial, softening the reality with feelings of attachment and friendship. Sometimes this was real friendship and other times it was an act they put on for whatever reason.

When Daisy saw me her face literally lit up and she ran towards me, grabbed by the arm and said, come inside gwapo. Of course this being a hot girl I wasn’t about to say no, and next thing I knew, I was being pulled into the Happy Hooker. I have often wondered how a small little Filipina can haul a 200 pound plus man into a bar and I always have a quiet little chuckle when I observe it. Whenever I see this happening I always laugh and think to myself, it’s true men really are led around by their dicks.

Anyway back to Daisy the vision of lust whom I eagerly followed into Happy Hooker. To be honest my memories of the Happy Hookers layout are only vague. I think there was a little stage on the left hand side which boasted about 8 girls all of whom looked like this wasn’t their first rodeo and the seating was mainly two tables and chairs and a lounge in the back. Back then they had the little patio just like it does today and on many occasions this was the busiest section of the bar. Since back then it was mostly a daytime trade many customers would enjoy sitting in the patio drinking a cold beer and watching the world go by while playing with some girls. There was little money to be made back then, and indeed, money wasn’t the primary driving force like it is today. Back then it was more about hanging out and having some fun with the girls and your mates. In terms of bar ownership I think a lot of guys just kind of fell in love with the idea of free booze, a constant stream of hot available women and a laid back lifestyle, where if one could make a little bit of money along the way, it was considered an added bonus.

The owner of the Happy Hooker was an Australian guy whose name was Jake but was always referred to as Daddy Jake particularly among the girls. Jake was an older bloke obviously in his late fifties early sixties (yes in those days I considered this old) with a pasty complexion and the beginnings of a classic alcoholics nose. Jake was a retired screw and although this is a position that requires regulations, slavish following of rules and a tough exterior, I never got any indication of these elements from Jake. He always seemed like your classic laid back Aussie who liked a quiet little drink on a regular basis.

The girls all seemed to like Jake and in the case of Daisy I got the impression the feeling was returned. She seemed to be his little favorite and she would flirt outrageously with him, always gently rubbing against his crotch, and giving him titillating and delightfully promiscuous glances. Jake was married and the bar was in his wife’s name, but this never seemed to bother Jake or the girls, in the slightest. When Jake’s wife was in the bar the girls would tone down their flirting a little bit but still they made it perfectly clear that inside the bar they had equal rights when it came to Jakes attention. To be honest I wasn’t privy to any behind the scenes talk between Jake and his wife but I can imagine his wife would have not been to impressed with the girls flirtatiousness being directed towards her husband. On the surface however Jake’s wife always kept a friendly demeanor towards customers and the girls, although it was clearly obvious, she was the boss when it came to her man.

I found out in later years that like so many of the small bars back then most of the girls came from a specific part of Samar where Jakes wife also hailed from and it was merely a semi annual visit back to the province by Jakes wife and the bar would be replenished with five to ten new girls with literally mud between their toes. this same area that supplied a regular flow of girls to work in the bar. Back then there was no big deal about Human Trafficking and it was seen as a perfectly natural happening to send ones daughter to Angeles to earn some money or even better land a foreign husband, move overseas and send money home on a regular basis.

As I got to know Jake and his wife a little better over the next two years I would ask her how she did her recruiting in the province and she would relate pretty much the same story every time. Basically she would get another girl already working in the bar and they would head down to the province together.

Normally her and the girl companion would have some nice jewelry that they would put on prior to entering the village, of course all the local girls would gather round and besiege them with looks of adoration and envy and then ask where did they get this jewelry and how can they get some for themselves. This of course was the lead in that the bar ladies wanted and next thing you know there were stories about the great life in the Angeles bar scene and how easy it was to make money there. Half the time the exact nature of the job was skirted around, with the parents being told their daughter will be a waitress or a GRO and to this day I am not sure if the parents knew exactly what their daughter would be doing or they actually believed the bar peoples tales. Personally I think they have a fairly good idea as to the nature of the job but chose to ignore it and just take the money.

I spent that afternoon chucking back a few beers with Jake and at 5 he asked me to accompany him to the front patio where we sat and talked and drank while Jake watched the happenings on the street. This was a great little voyeurs spot and we willed away about two hours watching the parade of beauties pass by. Jake had been in AC for at least five years and during that time had built a lot of friendships, many of whom would hail him or drop by for a drink. The guy also knew a ton of girls but I got the impression he had to be more careful when it came to approaching the girls because the wife had eyes and ears everywhere. Still being cautious is very different from being monogamous and I am sure wily old Jake got more than his fair share of tail.

While I sat and chat with Jake Daisy was milking ladies drinks from me and at the same time acting as door girl. I am sure she would have much rather gone with me and knocked out a short time but here she was still stuck in the bar, so she had decided to make the most of it. Daisy was one of those girls with an enervating personality that meant she could attract customers with very little work. In days to come I would watch her flirt and play with customers and lure them into the bar like a good door girl should. She had that unique ability to make every man no matter how old or how young, feel like he was the center of her attention and king of the world.

By about 7 Jake was ready to call it a night so I requested Daisy to go bar fine with me to which she eagerly agreed and we headed back to the Bonanza for a good old fashioned romp.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 60



Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 60

Americans, Aussies and lahar. Welcome to AC.

So there I was enveloped by pitch black night, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by about twenty Filipinos whom I had no idea how to communicate with. Was this a scary situation, you bet it was, especially since I had absolutely no idea what to do about it. I could see the Filipinos looking at me but luckily I didn’t sense any hostility, so deciding to push my luck I ambled up to one of the guys and asked, “excuse me, could you please tell me how do I get to Dau”? The guy looked at me and replied in perfect English, “I was thinking same as you. Wait here and I will ask someone”. Hearing him say this was such a relief and I gave a silent prayer thanking my lucky stars that I had met a friendly Filipino who spoke my language. Without him things could have gotten quite tricky.

My new found savior approached three other Filipino guys and jabbered away in Tagalog at the end of which he came back to me and said, “those are local guys, they tell me wait here and trike will come, then trike take you hotel”. Upon hearing this I gave a sigh of relief, thanked him profusely, and plonked my ass down on the rucksack to wait for a trike to arrive.

I had waited about thirty five minutes and had been watching the other passengers load themselves onto jeepneys and trikes and then suddenly I looked around to realize that I was the only person left. So now here I was stuck in the middle of nowhere, with only pitch black night to keep me company, and just as I was beginning to worry a trike pulled up from nowhere and the driver asked, “hey Joe what hotel you stay”? I was about to reply my name is not Joe it’s Martin, but I realized I was hardly in a position to be picky, so I simply gave him the name of the hotel and then piled myself and my rucksack into the trike.

Back in those days Angeles was very different than what it is today simply because it was a much smaller town and because it had been mostly destroyed due the eruption of Mount Pinatubo. The trike traveled along the main road for what must have been a couple of kilometers and then took a turn of to the right to travel along what was basically a dirt road full of potholes and lahar. We traveled on this road for close on thirty minutes moving at a snails pace as the trike jolted its way in out of bone jarring potholes. From inside the trike I tried to look out and survey my surroundings but all I could see were giant black shapes which I was to later find out were hills of lahar.

Upon reflection I realize these hills were probably only twenty or so feet high but from inside a trike, in the middle of the night and surrounded by a thick film of lahar, making it hard to breath let alone see properly, they sure seemed like mountains. After about thirty minutes the trike driver stopped and informed me that he wanted to talk with a group of guys that had suddenly appeared. I asked him why and he replied, “I get direction Bonanza Hotel”. When I heard this the alarm bells started ringing in my head and I had visions of being mugged and left battered and broken in the middle of the lahar fields.

While the driver talked with the three guys they kept on looking over at me and I was sure this was going to get nasty. To be honest I have had only a few fights in my life preferring instead to walk away and avoid them but I knew instinctively if these guys came for me there would be no walking away.

I sat in the trike for about five minutes sweating my ass off wondering what was the best way to handle this situation when suddenly the driver turned around and proceeded to walk back towards the trike. Here comes the demand for money I thought, but instead of doing anything threatening he merely smiled and said, “I know way now, Bonanza 10 minutes”. The feeling of relief that swept over me must have been visible because the driver looked at me and asked, “you okay Joe” to which I replied, “yes very okay just a little tired so want to get to the hotel”.

After another fifteen minutes of bone jarring travel in the trike we finally pulled up outside the Bonanza Hotel and I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. This trip had been a real worry, especially the Angeles half of it, and I fully realized I was extremely lucky to be here in one piece. I paid the trike driver two hundred piso, thanked him profusely then lugged my rucksack over my shoulder and entered the Bonanza Hotel.

The Bonanza in those days was nothing flash but at least it had survived Mount Pinatubo’s explosion relatively unscathed, the rooms were basic but decent, the price of 300 piso a night was perfect, and there was a distinctly Australian feel about it.

The Bonanza in modern times is called the Ponderosa Hotel and you will often see the hotels jeepney delivering patrons to Fields. It is not exactly in a centralized position being positioned in a back street in Mountain View but back in those days the issue of being close to Fields Avenue didn’t really matter because everyone seemed to get a trike or jeepney around, and nobody seemed to care less about a hotels proximity to Fields.

This of course has all changed now and closeness to Fields has become a major selling point for many of the up market hotels in Balibago. Back in the day there were only 5 or 6 major hotels and of these only the Orchid Inn was situated within close proximity to Fields. Just as now the major hotels offered a sort of resort feel and the emphasis was on providing the guest that tropical holiday feeling. Instrumental in creating that feeling was the hotel swimming pool together with the tropical garden surrounding it. The big players then were the Maharajah, the Oasis, the Clarkton, the Premier, the America Hotel and the iconic Aussie hotel, the Swagman. These were then followed by what I call the second string hotels which were establishments like the Executive Hotel, the Orchid Inn, Genesis and the Bonanza.

At that time the American influence was waning as they were getting ready to pull out of the Philippines and the Mount Pinatubo explosion with the destruction it had reeked, was merely the icing on the cake. Everywhere you went mounds of lahar varying in size could be seen and there was always a lahar haze in the air, causing people to cough and wheeze.

In terms of the bars there were only about ten bars on Fields including Dreams, Hobo Bar, Air Wolf, Club Fantastic, Birds of Paradise, the Happy Hooker, Ziggys, Stinger, Legs and Maverick City. There were probably a couple of others but their names escape me. These bars were complemented by numerous smaller bars scattered throughout the entire area including the now delightfully infamous blow road bars.

The general feel of the place was an eclectic mix between American and Australian which was perhaps best summed up by the street vendors who would firstly assume you were American and greet you with the classic, “hey Joe” and then if this didn’t work they would try “gooday mate”. The bars were generally speaking less commercial than they are today and the emphasis was on a bunch of guys just hanging out at their local as much as it was on casual prostitution. This was evidenced by the fact that a lot of bars had pool tables and the various pool leagues represented a regular and steady income for the bars. In fact I think there was probably a greater percentage of excellent pool players in Angeles than anywhere else in the world.

Just as is the case with Perimeter Road bars today the main emphasis was on daytime, early evening trade. Many of the bars would close by ten or at the latest midnight, and the thought of partying all night, or a bar being open 24 hours, was totally unheard of. Back then the scene was a lot smaller in nearly every way. The bars employed less girls and there was significantly less customers, plus the customers who did come had nowhere near as much money. The result was a laid back little town covered in volcanic dust mixed in with some brown skinned, hot blooded Filipinas, who rocked your world day after day with never a complaint.

The result of the smallness was a feeling of the town being less commercial and consequently more friendly. Most of the regulars knew each other and there was very much a social feel about the place. Groups such as the Hash House Harriers predominated and bars would compete with each other for the Hash business. Nowadays the Hashers are seen mainly as ‘Cheap Charlie’s’ and you will mostly find them drinking in the smaller bars or even the outside bars where the beers are cheaper and they can sit and watch the world go by.

As I have said the bars back then had a less commercial feel, it was very much amateur hour with girls wearing a cut off shirt and jean shorts together with high heals and a smattering of garish makeup. In Manila the scene was a lot more sophisticated with the girls wearing classy shoes, the right amount of makeup and bikinis. This was not the case in Angeles. The Angeles bars were somewhat of a time warp harking back to the eighties when America ruled the roost but this was also mixed in with the Aussie influence as more and more Aussies discovered the Philippines and specifically Angeles. The Aussie invasion was to some extent inevitable because their country was closer geographically and the scene in Angeles represented sex with beautiful, hard bodied Filipinas, at a very reasonable price.

In terms of the hotels there were several establishments catering to the Australian market, including the Orchid Inn, the Bonanza, the Executive Hotel and of course the iconic Swagman with it’s big sister hotel in Manila. A number of the bars were also Australian owned including Dreams, Club Fantastic, Ziggys and Stinger. The music in the bars also reflected the mix of American and Australian influence. The emphasis was on music for the customers and a large amount of Rock and Roll was played. Typically one could expect to hear bands like ACDC and INXS through to the classic rock of Led Zepplin, Deep Purple and the newer big bands such as Bon Jovi, Van Halen and Motley Crue. Back then just as today the girls didn’t really relate to this music but nobody seemed to care as the customers were having a great time listening to it and that was all that mattered. Manila bar music was more for the girls with an emphasis on them dancing but Angeles was still very much a rock and roll town where the customer ruled and the girls were there whenever we needed them.

Back then A. Santos Street AKA Blow Road, was in full swing. Bars with blatant names such as Super Head, and Mega Head were common place and some of the girls working in the blow job bars were the biggest earners in town. Some years later when I was working in the bar named Illusions seven girls from an A Santos BlowJob bar came to work in Illusions. The owner at the time predicted they wouldn’t last long because they could make more money in a Blow Job bar. I looked at him as if he was crazy and asked, “why would you say something like that. How can a girl working in a shitty little dive with no air-con and a lousy location make more money than working here in one of the premier bars on Fields Avenue”. Upon hearing this Wolf looked at me and said, “Martin you don’t really understand Angeles. Do the math. Working in Illusions she will get one bar fine a night that equals 400 piso in her pocket throw in a couple of ladies drinks and her salary and she is on about 600 piso. If she works in a BlowJob bar she can have at least five customers in a day and for each customer she will receive 250 guaranteed possibly an extra tip and maybe a ladies drink or two”. I listened to him, promptly did the math and decided as usual old Wolfy was right, and I still had a lot to learn about Angeles.

Another thing I liked about Angeles back then was the fact that the bar managers were definite characters. There was none of these behind the scenes operators and all the managers were up front in your face party guys who liked a drink, were always quick to tell a story and in general larger than life characters. The so called personality managers were predominant and guys would come to drink with them as much they would come for the girls.

In the early nineties Angeles was less vibrant than Manila, it was more laid back, there were less girls, less money to be made and in its own way a much more dated scene but I managed to slip right into it and thoroughly enjoyed myself. For me Manila with its large party clubs, bright neon lights and thousands of girls would always be number one, but when all the partying in Manila became a little bit to much Angeles was a very pleasant laid back alternative.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 59



Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 59

Angeles here I come.

Waking up to the sound of someone banging on your door is at best disconcerting and most of the time alarming. And for me this was definitely alarming. All sorts of paranoid thoughts entered my mind, ‘oh no maybe it’s the police again’, maybe I did something wrong in one of my recent benders , maybe someone I know has had an accident etc, etc. With only 3 hours sleep and a throbbing head I gingerly opened the door only to be confronted by Wally’s smiling face, and him saying, “come on mate it’s past nine and time to hit the road for Angeles”.

Shit I thought to myself, I had completely forgotten we were supposedly traveling to Angeles today and I was meant to meet him downstairs for a pre traveling breakfast. My disheveled tired appearance must have tipped Wally that I was in no condition to travel and luckily for me he was an understanding sort of bloke, so after seeing the condition I was in, Wally simply said, “looking at you mate you ain’t traveling anywhere any time soon and I gotta go coz AC is calling mate. You get some sleep mate and I will leave instructions on how to get to AC and where to stay with the front desk” With that said he gave me one last disparaging look, shook his head and proceeded to walk down the hallway.

At first I was kind of tempted to call him back and say, ‘give me 20 minutes to get ready’, but then my head started thumping again and waves of tiredness were overtaking me, so I thanked my lucky stars Wally was so understanding, shut the door, and climbed back into bed with Lisa.

I must have slept for at least five hours because when I woke up the second time I was remarkably refreshed and feeling ready for my next adventure. Lisa was still blissfully snoozing so I decided to grab a shower pack my stuff and begin heading towards Angeles. I made my way to the shower room and as the scolding hot water hit me I closed my eyes and enjoyed a moment of solitude.

I have always enjoyed a hot shower and to be honest I have found many of my best ideas are generated while relaxing in a hot water shower. I closed my eyes and let the water cascade all over me when I heard the bathroom door open and my reverie was interrupted by a pair of soft wet lips engulfing my manhood.

Pleasantly surprised I opened my eyes and there was Lisa sucking on my rapidly hardening penis like there was no tomorrow. Now I was in seventh heaven a hot shower and a blow job at the same time. This was the life and once again I silently congratulated myself on my decision to stay in the Philippines.

After another steamy round in the bathroom Lisa and I both got dressed and with me grabbing my rucksack we made our way down to the hotel reception. I said goodbye to Lisa slipped her 500 piso, picked up the traveling instructions Wally had left me, checked my spare baggage into the Mayfair’s storage area and proceeded to make my way to the Pasay Victory liner bus station.

By this time I was getting quite used to utilizing public transport. I had asking the taxi drivers to turn on their meter, down to an art form, I knew the major arterial roads and was even vaguely familiar with the geographical position of some of the Manila suburbs. However, despite how much you are knowledgeable about your surroundings, traveling in Manila is always an adventure, and one can never get totally used to the living conditions some of the poor endure.

The trip to Pasay from Ermita was only short since they are neighboring suburbs but negotiating the back streets in that taxi as he made his way to the Victory liner bus station was a chilling experience. It was just beginning to get dark yet there was still enough light to see the look of hostility and sometimes naked hatred in the peoples eyes. Admittedly these looks were also mixed with the cheerful laughter of kids playing and the tantalizingly inviting smiles of the Filipinas as they would give passersby that furtive and slightly coy look which hinted at the promise of unbounded sexual delights.

After what seemed like a maze of back streets we arrived at the Victory Liner bus terminal where I unloaded my gear, paid the driver and then as he drove off I looked around and thought to myself, “oh shit what have I gotten myself in for here”. Traveling by public transport is always a risky proposition especially when in a foreign country but it is also a great way to see aspects of a country or a culture that otherwise would be hidden from you. For me the traveling by public transport was an adventure as it offered me a chance to experience Filipino culture and Filipino society, first hand.
Coming from Australia I was used to quality coaches with proper exhaust systems but in Manila exhaust fumes and the resultant smog are a fact of life. Black smoke belching busses are seen as being part of life in Manila and in the bus station it was particularly bad since it was undercover and the exhaust fumes just stayed trapped in the building. Rather than turn off the engines, drivers would just leave the engine running letting the fumes build up with the result of making travelers feel that they had just walked into a poisonous gas oven.

Public transport depots are always crowded but in Manila to call them crowded is an understatement, they are jam packed like sardines in a can and these crowded conditions are then made even worse by the ever present grey haze of exhaust fumes. I made my way through the milling crowd, keeping my back pack in front of me and gently yet purposefully using it to push and prod my way through the crowd who were scrambling to get ion board a b us. Eventually I made my way to what looked like the ticket sellers booth, stood in line for five minutes and then when it was my turn asked for a ticket to Angeles, Dau.

After procuring the ticket I asked the lady how do I know which bus to take and she replied, “look to Dau sign” and then as if that explained it all looked beyond me towards the next waiting customer. I moved aside and as I pondered her meaning “look to Dau sign” a large coach pulled up and their on the right hand side prominently displayed was the sign saying Dau. The sign registered in my brain and I knew this must be the bus that takes me to Angeles. I made my way towards the bus but even before it had stopped completely there was a crowd of people all pushing and jostling to get on board. For me the pushing and jostling was not such a problem because I was larger than 90% of Filipinos and as such never really felt threatened but the safety factor aside, it was all I could do not to just grab some of the rude bastards and pull them back by the scruff of their necks. This experience at the bus station reminded me of the pictures of train stations in India, not quite as bad in terms of the number of people but as far as the pushing and jostling were concerned, it was exactly the same.

By the time I had pondered all that was going on the bus with the Dau sign had filled up and the doors were closing. Darn I thought to myself, this standing in line being polite doesn’t get you anywhere in this country so the next bus I see I am going to push like everybody else and make sure I get on otherwise I am going to be stuck here waiting all night. I must have waited another twenty minutes before another bus with a Dau sign came by and quite unceremoniously I pushed my way through the crowd and embarked on the bus. The inside of the bus was actually quite modern it had air-conditioning vents, a TV monitor that showed videos and the seats were actually large enough to fit the average foreigner rather than being built for the smaller framed Filipinos. I chose a seat as near to the front as I could get reasoning that if I got lost I could always ask the driver to inform me when we are nearing Dau.

The bus sat in the terminal for at least twenty minutes during which time the driver switched on Filipino radio which of course was far to loud and constituted a blathering of tagalog which I had no comprehension of. The radio was also accompanied by various vendors selling everything from bottled water and juices through to peanuts and quail eggs. I don’t know if it is just me but since I was the only foreigner on the bus it seemed like they singled me out and some of these blokes just wouldn’t take no for an answer. It was almost like I was expected to purchase something because I was a foreigner or maybe it was just some kind of bemusement because they had only seen a very limited number of foreigners traveling by bus before . Whatever it was these guys became quite persistent and it was all I could do to keep my cool and politely state that I declined to buy any of their goods. I have since learned to take a girl with me and let her do the talking but this was my first bus trip and the vendor pressure was all part of my learning experience.

The bus trip to Angeles was interesting. As we drove through Manila it was already dark but I got some revealing glimpses of this city albeit from the safety of a Victory bus liner. The thing about Manila is everywhere you look there is people, people and more people. Whether they be driving cars, queuing up for a jeepney, or just wandering the streets with hands stretched out dressed in soiled rags and with vacant expressions in their eyes, it is always about the people, the mass of humanity and the ever increasing level of pollution are indeed hallmarks of Manila one of Asia’s oldest capital cities.

The trip through Manila took about two hours and that was not because of the distance but rather because of the seemingly endless traffic jam that moved at a snails pace. As is the rule in most Asian countries he who is bigger wins so the bus will normally hold sway over the cars but when it comes to traffic jams like this no amount of size makes any difference.

The seats on the bus whilst comparatively new were not exactly comfortable and sometimes I found myself with my knees huddled against my chest. After leaving Edsa road the bus proceeded down what is now NLEX but at that time was little more than a two lane highway with potholes the size of moon craters every half mile. The trip on the Northern Expressway was comparatively uneventful and I found myself marveling at how quickly this bus could travel once wound up. Along the way the bus would pull over to the side of the road leaving some people to exit and others to hop on board including vendors mostly peanut sellers who would get on and off the bus in the middle of nowhere.

After about an hour the bus pulled over and the conductor announced Dau. This was my cue to get off so grabbing my rucksack from the overhead luggage rack I fell in line and exited the bus. I stepped of the bus and realized I was still on the main road. There was no sign of any town there was minimal light, it was beginning to drizzle, I was surrounded by Filipino’s jabbering away in Tagalog, and there I was stuck in the middle of nowhere without a friend or the slightest idea how I was going to find Angeles.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 58



Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 58

A pussy binge and new beginnings.

By this time I was almost feeling like a Philippine veteran. I had experienced multiple sexual partners I had experienced death, I had experienced the genuine friendship of Filipina’s, I had done the province experience, I had been accused of murder and of course I had traveled the turbulent and drama laden path, that typifies any relationship with a Filipina.

So now what, that was the big question. With the departure of Rosie I realized I was at some sort of crossroads in my Philippine adventures. On the one hand, I had come here as a sex tourist with the objective of having as many sexual partners as I possibly could, but on the other hand, I had also experienced two turbulent relationships, and at this point I really wasn’t sure which way to go.

I managed a further two weeks in Ermita which incorporated daily bar hops and different women just about every night. Occasionally I would take a night off and these nights were spent sitting around the Mayfair’s outside courtyard, drinking a few beers, and having a general chit chat with other patrons of the hotel. The Mayfair was decidedly Australian in ambience and in the patrons it attracted which of course was fine by me since it was nice to get a taste of home occasionally. Having said that, I would find myself chatting with these blokes but there was always a small barrier there. It was almost as if I had made some sort of mental decision that Australia was no longer a place I still called home. It wasn’t until many years later when I sat back and analyzed it, that I realized I was almost a vagabond, and I didn’t really fit in anywhere. I knew I would always be a foreigner in the Philippines and yet somehow Australia held no interest for me and neither did New Zealand or England.

After about two weeks of partying and going through money like there was no tomorrow I decided to take a couple of days off and it was then I remembered my mates advice back in Australia. He had gone to great pains to make sure I visit Angeles and even written out a list of what he thought the best bars for me to visit would be for me to visit. I sitting enjoying a cup of tea and reviewing my list when David approached me with another guy who was Mauritian/Australian who went by the name of Wally.

After a brief introduction Wally sat down and joined me drinking a few beers. In those days there was no such thing as SML and the San Miguel Pale Ale was going down a treat. Over the years I have developed a distinct aversion to San Miguel Light as it gives me horrible headaches but the San Miguel Pale Ale still does the trick quite nicely. In fact San Miguel is the only beer in the world I have tasted that actually tastes better out of a can than a bottle. Now I know you beer aficionados reading this will be guffawing and shaking your head in disagreement, but I solemnly swear, the San Miguel Pale Pilsner tastes better in the gold can than it does in the brown bottle. I have discussed this with many people and some have said the reason is because the beer in the gold can is their export beer and therefore a better quality. How much credence there is in this theory I have no idea, but it sounded good to me at the time, so for the want of any other reasonable explanation, I have stuck with it, and will always use it when other people notice the weird phenomenon, of a beer tasting better in a can than a bottle.

Wally and I seemed to hit it off pretty well and it wasn’t long before I found myself discussing the possibility of going up to Angeles sometime in the near future. When he heard me mention Angeles he burst out in a big smile and replied, “mate I love Angeles, that’s my town much more than Manila. Tell you what mate, I was planning on heading up there tomorrow so how about we travel together”. I responded positively stating this would be a great idea, to which Wally replied, “that’s grouse mate, let’s meet at the Mayfair reception at 9”. Without a moments hesitation I agreed and then Wally proceeded to regale me with stories of his adventures in Angeles.

When Wally and I were sitting together enjoying a good chin wag, the time just seemed to fly, and before either of us knew what happened it was 1 AM and Mario was closing up the bar at the Mayfair. Mario announced last call but Wally said, “not for me mate I got to go. I got a bird up in my room and she’ll probably be all pissed off coz I’ve been away so long. Cop you later Marty and I’ll see you at 9”. With that said, Wally stood up, swayed a little, then proceeded to make his way upstairs to his room.

Feeling a little bit let down I looked around and realized I was the only person left and I wondered what the heck I was going to do now. It was to early to go to bed so I decided a little walk to Rosie’s diner, a local pickup joint, might be in order.

Back in day when Ermita was in full swing Rosie’s Diner was literally a license to print money. It still exists to this day but is now called the Manila Café and with the demise of the bars has become even more of a pick up joint than it was when all the bars were operating.

Back in the day it was a brightly lit establishment capable of holding 30 to 40 people and it incorporated a theme based around an American 50’s diner. Rosies Diner was always popular but no matter what the owners would say, the popularity had nothing to do with the food or the ambience. This was a renowned pick up joint and 80% of the customers were there to meet someone rather than indulge in a good meal. Having said that, Rosies food was always decent, it seemed to be open 24/7 and the location was nothing if not convenient.

Normally Rosie’s was at its best as the various shifts in the bars finished but no matter what time of day or night if you hung out there long enough with an expectant look and lowered your standards, it was always easy to pick up a girl there. Filipinas being smaller boned and normally having dazzlingly clear brown skin, make for perfect clothes horses and Rosie’s was deceptive because a mediocre girl could look stunning and I was to often find a girl who looked so promising initially, could often be a disappointment later on.

It was always an interesting experience walking the streets of Manila after sunset and I use the word interesting because even though the area was mainly frequented by seedy lowlife’s and Filipino’s under the grinding heel of absolute poverty, I never once felt threatened. Yes I would often get the impression I was viewed as a walking ATM machine but never once did I feel threatened or in danger.

It took me about twenty minutes to get to Rosie’s just gently strolling yet still when I got there I had worked up a little sweat. I entered the restaurant sat down on a fifties style stool ordered a glass of water and of course a chocolate shake which was somewhat of a specialty at Rosie’s. The shake came within 5 minutes and as I sipped it I sat back perused the scenery and spotted a girl on the other side of the restaurant who looked super hot and was obviously there on the hunt.

Now the thing about places like Rosie’s Diner that alienates me is that there is no protocol. For some people this is exactly why they liked Rosie’s, finding it easier to operate in this environment but for me the bar scene was always so much more comfortable. I was never quite sure what approach to take when placed in a pick up joint but in the bar the total opposite was true. I was just contemplating my shake, looking at the girl out of the corner of my eye, trying to decide how to approach her, when she looked directly at me and leveled me with a beautiful smile that literally floored me.

At first I was kind of shocked and I couldn’t believe this ravishing beauty was looking at me. I turned around to see if maybe there was someone behind me only to see an empty diner, and straight away I knew I was looking good when it came to picking up this girl.

I am admittedly not always the fastest on the uptake but when a woman like this smiles across the room at a guy like me there was only one option, and that option was to make my move. I rose out of the seat and trying my best to appear nonchalant strolled over and sat down beside her. “Hello beautiful”, I said, “my name is Martin, and it sure is a pleasure to meet you”. Having said a cheezy line like that, I felt myself mentally cringe but this beauty didn’t seem to notice and she replied with that dazzling smile, “Hi I am Lisa”.

Lisa was fairly tall as far as Filipinas go standing 5 foot 6 in heels, she had shoulder length hair, long shapely legs and small pert little boobs. I took one look at her drinking this visage in with my eyes and found myself thinking, ‘I love the Philippines’. Even when on the hunt I realized just how lucky I was being in the Philippines. I was fully aware that a woman such as Lisa would not have given me a second look, back in my own country, but here in the Philippines I was on pretty much equal footing with any guy and those odds were certainly more appealing than those at home.

Lisa and I engaged in small talk for about an hour with her suggesting we retire to the Hula Hut next door and get something more substantial to eat. The Hula Hut was situated just behind Rosie’s Diner and although owned by the same people as Rosie’s it certainly had a different feel to it. Rosie’s was a brightly lit diner with basic food stuffs and an emphasis on what I call semi fast food dining. The Hula Hut on the other hand was more like a restaurant and usually didn’t really take off until after midnight. The Hula Hut was the perfect place to get a meal and enjoy some truly scintillating eye candy. After midnight there was nearly always some glamour’s cruising the scene and for some reason when in the Hula Hut they always seemed better presented and exuded an air of quasi sophistication. I am sure once back in the bed the Hula Hut girls were much the same as any other bar girl, but even though I knew this, I was invariably turned on by the fact that these women had taken the time to present themselves in an elegant and slightly classy way, and in so doing distinguish themselves from the run of the mill bar girl.

Lisa and I enjoyed a nice little snack in the Hula Hut and spent another hour just getting to know each other. During our conversation I discovered that she was 22 years old, which for this environment was positively ancient, her province was Samar and she had 3 year old baby boy. Okay, given the baggage that came with her Lisa was hardly the perfect catch but it was getting late, I was not feeling particularly enthused or energetic and most importantly Lisa had those shapely long legs which seemed to go all the way to heaven. So with visions of those long legs stretched back to the point where her feet were behind her ears, and me with my cock pounding her sweet little pussy like a jackhammer, I popped the question and without hesitation she accepted and next thing I knew we were in a taxi heading towards the Mayfair.

Lisa and I enjoyed two torrid rounds of sex and I have to admit she was a loud vocal performer who would have multiple orgasms during the sex act and any reservations she may have had were thrown to the wind as she abandoned herself to the waves of sexual ecstasy that coursed through her body. Lisa loved all styles and could even cum when being fucked from behind. Lisa was not a wild cat that scratched and clawed but instead was a delightfully feminine woman and her orgasms reflected this.

After two rounds Lisa and I were both spend and I estimate I had been contently sleeping for about 3 hours when I was woken up by a solid and persistent knocking on the hotel door. It took a few moments for my situation to sink in and as I alighted from the bed and stumbled round for a bathrobe or some suitable covering, I thought to myself , what have I done now.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 57



Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 57

The wild times are just beginning.

In my twenty years of partying in the Philippines it has only been on a handful of occasions where I have woken up not knowing where I was, or how I had gotten there. This was my first time and I still remember it vividly. I was inside some sleazy short time room and besides me were two naked Filipinas. I don’t know if it is something genetic or just the fact that they were used to sleeping in the crudest environments, but I have noticed the Filipinas propensity for sound sleep and often it is virtually impossible to wake them up short of shaking them.

The two girls beside me were stark naked and each lay entwined in each others arms with their legs wrapped around each others torsos. I remember thinking at the time how strange it was that women felt no discomfort being this close to each other compared to men who would mostly be profoundly un comfortable sleeping like this.

My first reaction as always was to search for my pants, and once found, rummage through the pockets, to make sure my wallet was still in tact. Luckily for me everything was there and I made a mental note to myself never to put myself in such a vulnerable position again. Having taken stock of my situation I tried to think back and remember some of the events of last night. I could vaguely remember leaving Visions with these two beauties under my arms but the trip to whatever hotel we were in was a total blank. I concentrated a little harder trying to remember what we had done together and slowly some truly erotic images began to fill my head.

One particular memory that to this day is crystal clear, is of me banging one girl from behind while she was eating the pussy of the other. Both girls were digging this sexual encounter and I remember a giant moaning scene just like a good porno movie. I can’t remember the girls names which in some ways makes me feel ashamed and in other ways turns me on like crazy. I mean the whole idea of Manila back then was that it was one continual fuck fest where the core to peoples existence was pure and simply illicit sexual encounters. What a world this was and even though modern day Angeles is pretty good for me it pales in comparison to the heady days of Ermita.

I could feel the throbbing in my head and the beginning of a nasty headache so moving carefully so as not to wake the girls I made my way to the bathroom for a cold refreshing shower. The shower was just what I needed and after about 5 minutes of cold water cascading down on me I began to feel nearly human again and next thing I knew I was contemplating one more round with the girls. Sliding into the room with only a towel wrapped around me and looking at the naked girls lying on the bed I felt the old familiar stirring in my loins, so I untangled one of the girls and slowly inserted myself into her. At first she was unresponsive but after about 3 strokes she opened her eyes and it was amusing watching her expression as she realized what was happening. I had been romping with this girl for about 10 minutes when all of a sudden the girl next to us opened her eyes and just smiled knowingly. Seeing this I thought to myself, “why the heck not may as well give her one round as well, so I slid off the girl I was on and proceeded to pump away at the second girl.

I had been pumping away with a good steady rhythm for about 5 minutes when all of a sudden I felt the first girls hand gently squeezing my balls so I told the girl I was fucking to assume the doggy position and while I took her from behind the other one was to lay down face up and lick my balls. This took some explaining but these girls were no amateurs and we soon had it perfect with me pumping away from behind while the other girl licked my balls. Given this it wasn’t long before I felt the sublime waves of orgasm approaching and soon spasms of pure physical pleasure were coursing through my body.

After a thoroughly satisfying session with these nameless girls I guided all three of us into the shower where we proceeded to have a good old soap session which turned into another sex session as the girls soaped up each other. By this time I was completely spent so I left them to their own devices and after getting changed just laid on the bed watching some crap tagalog movie on the small TV while the girls bought each other to mutual soapy orgasms. After they were finished with each other and had gotten dressed, myself and the girls headed outside and here I was confronted with a dirty Philippine street that I had never seen before. I asked the girls where we were and they muttered something unintelligible so then it was simply a case of finding the nearest main road, hailing a cab and heading back to Ermita.

As I walked down the street where normal Manila life was going on I could feel the peoples eyes upon me. I felt a mixture of curiosity and to a lesser extent hostility, and whenever I caught someone glaring I would simply smile and pretend to be Mr happy and friendly. The girls meanwhile were following me laughing, giggling, and chatting among themselves, without a care in the world.

Right about now the hangover was beginning to kick in and it was with marked relief that I reached the end of the street and there before me was a major road with plenty of taxis. Within seconds I had hailed one and we all piled in with me giving the driver instructions to head for Ermita. During the drive I dug into my pockets found two five hundred piso bills which I gave to the girls then when we reached M.H.Del Pilar where I piled out of the taxi and prepared the walk of shame back to the Mayfair Hotel.

As I entered the main foyer and asked the receptionist for my key she looked at me with evident disdain and replied “Sir Martin, your girlfriend is in your room”. Oh shit I thought, wonder how I am going to explain this one and on my way up the stairs I decided offence would be the best form of defense, so upon entering the room I smiled at Rosie and said, “hi honey where have you been the last few days”.

Rosies reaction was surprisingly mild as she looked at me and explained how she had supposedly been visiting her cousin but not wishing to give up my front foot advantage I then pressed her a little further by asking, “why didn’t you call the hotel and let me know you were okay” to which she replied, “no phone, but where you been bastos”? I feigned ignorance and again she repeated, “where you Martin, you have girl”? but I just smiled and said, “if you want to know the truth I fell asleep in Visions and the security guard will back up my story”. Rosie just smirked and said, “whatever all man liers”.

The rest of the day was tense but in the end I wore Rosie down and I promised her we would head back to Peurto Galera where it was cheaper and we could go back to a more relaxed lifestyle. That night we stayed in and the next morning found us up bright and early ready to make the trip down to Peurto Galera. Rosie and I gathered round the table for an early breakfast then made our way to the waiting taxi that the Mayfair guard had hailed us. The guard put my bags in the back of the taxi but then when he went to grab Rosie’s bag she dropped her purse and as it hit the ground with the contents spilling on the pavement, I noticed 2 pictures of some guy I had never seen before fall out of her wallet.

Feeling a little bemused I asked Rosie, “ whose that guy” and she replied “that Ekie, my boyfriend”. “Wait a minute” I answered, “I thought I was your boyfriend” and with this Rosie looked at me stony faced and replied, “Ekie number 1 boyfriend Martin number 3”.

For a moment I was gob struck until the taxi driver asked me sir were we go now and it dawned on me that I didn’t want to go anywhere and probably neither did Rosie. “Tell you what” driver I said, “get my bags out the back because I have an emergency and I will give you some money to say thank you for your help”. He looked at me with a vacant look so I said, “trip no more”. With that I got out of the car unloaded my bags, slipped the guy 100 piso and thanked him profusely as I headed back to the Mayfair hotel.

I walked briskly into the Mayfair, booked another room and then went straight in there locking the door behind me. I was expecting Rosie to come knocking on the door but after 15 minutes it became blatantly obvious that this wasn’t going to happen and I was once again alone.

I never saw Rosie again which honestly is something which I reacted to with mixed emotions. On the one hand she was my friend and I had grown accustomed to having her around, on the other hand I saw Rosies departure as the beginning of my freedom. I had originally come to the Philippines to be with as many girls as I could and now that Rosie was gone I was free to restart my mission in earnest.

I set myself a goal of doing 2 different women a day for the next seven days and later on that afternoon David who had obviously heard about my experience with Rosie, came knocking on my door, and was asking me to accompany him on yet another bar hop. I jumped into the shower and fifteen minutes later there was David and myself carousing the bars of M H Del Pilar yet again. This was to become our regular sequence and both David and myself managed to work our way through at least two girls everyday for the following week.

Back then at age 31 it was to easy, the money just seemed to flow from my pocket and we had a prolific mongering time notching up a significant amount of sexual activity, that is until one day as I was walking past punch line a girl got in my face and was shouting and yelling and trying to hit me. I managed to escape into Visions where she could not follow. When inside after having several beers to cool down I asked David, “hey man do you know what that was all about” and he replied “I certainly do mate, that was Hilda’s sister and she is yelling that you killed Hilda”.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 56



Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

Chapter 56

A few wild nights in Manila.

Living in current day Angeles and being a member of internet sites such as Asian Escapades I often see and hear the discussion of which was better Ermita in Manila or current day Angeles. For me the answer is simple, Ermita was better. There was just something about Ermita that I have never found anywhere else, PatPong in Thailand came close in 1986, but even that, still was not as good for me as Ermita was. And here’s what’s really impressive. I didn’t discover Ermita until 1991 and for those who know Ermita in the early eighties they all swear without exception that it was better back then than it was in the early nineties.

For me there was just something about the place and that something had me utterly transfixed or maybe addicted would be a more appropriate description. There was a large expat community and a huge community of tourists from all walks of life, and all corners of the world. There was an incredible range of bars from the dirtiest sleaziest little dives through the bigger nightclubs with bright lights and loud music. There were so many characters in Ermita and you never knew what was going to happen from one night to the next. You could be rubbing shoulders with a millionaire stock broker on holiday from Hong Kong one minute and then the next be rubbing shoulders with a junkie bum looking for some angle to get money for his next fix.

In Ermita there was a certain wild west feel that pervaded many clubs and one often got the feeling he was walking on the razors edge. I think a major difference between Ermita and Angeles is that there was a certain almost tangible energy in Ermita, a buzz and a feeling of total freedom as people gave in to their most hedonistic desires. In Ermita there were no boundaries anything could happen and normally did. There was a sort of infectious frenetic energy that abounded and once one had tasted it there was no going back to an ordinary life.

The next day there was no sign of Rosie but for some reason I wasn’t to perturbed and I think a part of me may have been secretly glad. I knew David and Ken were glad because as soon as they saw me they greeted me with big smiles and David said, “you ready for an afternoon barhop mate”? Not being one to hold back I replied sure lets check out some of the bars I haven’t been to before.
We proceeded up Mabini Street turned left and headed towards the Firehouse which seemed to be the first afternoon stop for David. At the time the Firehouse was being managed by the recently deceased Howard Sleebush AKA Howard the Duck and he was always an entertainer plus he had some good looking girls. David and I chatted with Howard for half an hour or so bought a few ladies drinks which were back then 55 piso in the day time then decided to move in. It was pretty common for David to stop for an hour or so with Howard but this particular day I was keen to get a move on because there was this nagging thought in my head that there was something special waiting out for me and besides there were a whole lot of little bars that I was yet to explore .

After leaving Firehouse we crossed over M.H.Del Pilar and were ambling down in the direction of United Nations Avenue but our progress was interminably slow because David had to stop and talk to every door girl whom he knew by name. He would say hello such and such ask how they were then straight down to business. Once the pleasantries were over David would ask have you any new girls for me and the answer was in most cases no but occasionally he would get a yes and when this happened he literally pushed his way in the front door like a man on a mission. We must have only entered about 3 bars with David quickly checking out the new girls much like a horse trader at a horse show. Watching David in action reminded me of the old movies where the slavers would treat the slaves as a commodity to be used and abused you see in the movies treating people like For David it seemed the girls there were almost like a piece of meat. they were purely just a piece of meat just walking in with David checking out the new girl like a buyer at a horse show, then not finding what he wants he simply dismisses them, pays the bill, and moves to the next bar.

We had done the inspection trip for about 5 bars and had reached Josies Pride a renowned Ermita blow job bar and David asked the door girl have you got any new girls inside. Her reply was “no but we have a twins”. Well hearing that was for me like a red flag to a bull and not waiting for David to lead the way I opened the front door and barged right in.

I walked into Josies Pride and before I had even sat down I spotted two girls over in the corner that looked exactly alike. I motioned for them to come over but they played coy and just smiled at me. Realizing that these girls were obviously new and shy, it quickly dawned on me that I would have to make the first move. I casually sauntered over and said hello girls can I buy you a drink. They looked at me as if I was some kind of apparition giggled and then proceeded to bombard me with Tagalog. Not understanding a single word they were saying I just smiled grabbed each by the hand and led them over to where I had been sitting. These girls may have been new but the bar tender certainly wasn’t and recognizing that I was going to spend some money she quickly explained to the girls what was going on and next thing I knew both girls were zealously fondling me and rubbing up against me in a provocative display of sexual arousal.

I think every man is slightly curious about having a sexual encounter with twins, I know I certainly was an I openly admit that it had been a long term fantasy of mine. As a result I was like putty in their hands and the more they took turns in playing with my now bulging cock the more drinks I would buy. I think in the end I must have bought at least 4 rounds of ladies drinks for all the staff in the bar and every time I ordered the twins would pay even more attention to my erect member.

With all the attention being paid to me by the twins I was standing to attention almost to the point of not being able to walk out even if I had wanted to. By this time David also had a girl and my resolve was rapidly weakening so I mentioned to him that I might take two to which he just winked and replied “twins, twice the trouble, twice the fun”.

At this my point my memory is a bit hazy but I am pretty sure Josies Pride had the equivalent to short time rooms upstairs and when I suggested some action the twins giggled, grabbed my hands and led me out the back to one of the rooms. I remember looking over my shoulder at David with a hyena like smile but he was busy putting the word on his girl so I turned back to watch those tight little brown bottoms wiggling in a jaunty way in front of me and enticing me to follow them. I remember thinking to myself can life get any better and little did I know it but the answer to that question was yes and in the coming months it certainly did.

I like most men certainly enjoy a good blow job and these supposedly new, inexperienced twins both had oral skills Linda Lovelace would have been proud of. They led me into the back room then both dropped to their knees and proceeded to lick and suck my sex organs like true professionals. While one would suck on my cock the other would lick and kiss my balls. I remember standing in that dank dim room with my pants around my ankles and looking down at these gorgeous twins thinking to myself , ‘now this is what I call living the dream’. It wasn’t long before the twins had me worked up to a fever pitch and before I knew it I was spurting my jism in one of their mouths.

After the blow job the one who had taken my load in her mouth rushed out the room while her twin sister helped pull my pants back up over my now shaking legs and limp member. I gave myself a minute to regain my composure then said to the other twin, “okay let’s go outside and see David”. When we got back to the room there was no David but his girl was still there hanging around so I asked her hey honey where is David and she replied David no good man, he go Visions maybe he get another girl”. I thanked her and asked the bar tender to total my bill. The bill came, I paid it and then reaching into my pocket again pulled out two five hundred piso notes which I gave to my blow job twin along with strict instructions that she was to give the other 500 to her sister. This seemed to be more than enough and with a lithe spring in her step she bounced up to my cheek, gave me a little kiss on the cheek, then disappeared behind the curtain leading to the back rooms.

Feeling like I had just gotten a load off my mind and totally relaxed I exited Josies Pride and began the walk up M.H.Del Pilar heading up to Visions. As you may have gathered Visions was by far my favorite bar as it was for David and in fact numerous people. There was just something about the frenetic energy that this place had, this bar had great women and a party atmosphere unlike any other bar in the world. Every night in there was full on party mode. The girls would dance up a storm and there seemed to always be a solid core of at least 30 really good looking girls all with tight trim bodies and beautiful faces. Most would wear a T/Back bikini and to see their little brown butts gyrating before you was an unbelievable turn on. The crowd in Visions was always an eclectic affair with people of different nationalities and walks of life rubbing shoulders as they partied and engaged in the endless quest for pussy. Most of the time 80% of the crowd seemed to be in a state of intoxication and alcohol was just the beginning. Some of the partying that went on in that bar was mind boggling and to this day twenty one years later I have never seen anything that comes even close to the nightly atmosphere of Visions.

When discussing the bar business I have heard it postulated that music has nothing to do with the success or failure of a bar and some even go so far as to argue it is irrelevant to the day to day operation of the bar. I however believe it is one of five key elements that determines a bars success or failure simply because it influences the girls hence the bars atmosphere. This theory is by no means rocket science but it was in Visions that I saw it practiced to a fine art. Those DJ’s Alvin, Rod, and Pancho knew exactly what songs to play and when to play them . They had the musical equivalent to a comics sense of timing and could control the entire atmosphere of the club simply by playing a certain set of songs.

I remember in particular Chicakita and Fernando by Abba. These were two songs I literally hated and yet I couldn’t wait to hear them in Visions because I knew exactly what the reaction of the girls would be. Every time these two Abba songs would come on the girls would literally turn on a spontaneous show the likes of which I will never forget. The show would always involve girls jostling for position at the front of the stage and that included along the bar counter top that ran the length of the stage. Invariably these girls would be dressed in scanty bikinis that did little to hide any body parts and the eroticism that pervaded throughout the entire club was almost palatable. Even a totally gay guy would have been impressed by this provocative wanton display of female sexuality.

Long will I remember girls like Carolina, Bianca, Vanessa, Apple, Ligaya, Pia, Mary and Josephine. These were the regular core of dancers who could turn on a show at the drop of a hat. Back then it was never because they were show girls or anything other than a regular dancer but simply because they genuinely enjoyed performing both for their friends and the customers. As an added bonus every one of these girls was hot except maybe Josephine who had a head like Mr Ed but a body like a Greek Goddess. The funny thing was I never got tired of the shows even when I worked there later, and I think this was because they were always recruiting new members to their little group and because it was always spontaneous and always evolving. Lastly and perhaps most importantly it was so obvious the girls did it because they got a kick out of it and genuinely enjoyed it as opposed to just going through the motions as is so often the case with the so called show girls in today’s environment.

Then there was the customers. Every night Visions would be packed even during the rainy season and it was non stop party. The customers even the so called hardened vets enjoyed the dancing in Visions as did a multitude of people from all around the world with completely different musical taste.

Visions would start at 3 and end at 5 and that night I was to make it to 5 in the morning drinking Jack Daniels with 3 girls who seemed to somehow magically be handling their JD much better than me. Yes they were cheating but at the time I had no idea and I remember marveling how these deliciously lithe beauties could hold their alcohol. The last thing I remember was two girls gently manipulating my member then for some reason the world began to spin and went black.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 55



Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer


Chapter 55

Bye, bye Masbate, Manila here we come.

When Rosie told me about the old mans warning I kind of laughed it off, thinking to myself once we get to Manila that old bastard is never going to find us, but at the same time there was that nagging doubt in my mind. I knew that this was not my country and a foreigner such as myself, without much experience, would never see the problem coming. On the way back to Rosie’s village I told Bob what his girls grandfather had said but he seemed to shrug it off and said, “mate I will worry about that later, right now I just want to get the f*&k out of here and back to Manila” Bob was never one to publicly display his emotions but I could tell with every yard we traveled away from the island, he became a little more relaxed, and it was like someone was slowly lifting a heavy load from off his shoulders. To this day I do not exactly what they were doing to him on the island but I got the feeling he was kept like a prisoner which for a free wheeling individual like Bob is a punishment worse than death.

The journey back to Rosies village was uneventful and after paying the boat driver we made our way back to the little hut that had become our home away from home and no sooner had we entered when Bob loudly announced, “guys I’m planning on leaving tomorrow, got to head back to Manila mate and get some stuff done”. I thought to myself well that’s cutting our journey a bit short but given what he had been through I could fully understand his desire to put as much distance between himself and the island as he possibly could.

Most of that night was spent by a fire on the beach where Bob and I shared a few drinks and made general conversation but no matter how much I dug he would not divulge exactly what happened to him on the island. I chatted with Rosie and told her Bob was going to leave tomorrow and to my surprise she agreed that was for the best and that we should go with him. I was surprised to hear this from here because I thought she had been enjoying her time in the province. I thought to myself one can never really know what’s going on inside the head of a woman so with a sigh of resignation I simply replied okay that’s cool with me so tomorrow we all head back to Manila.

The next day we all woke up comparatively early and after being paraded to Rosies Parents place were the whole family pretended they were going to miss us but I got the feeling they secretly pleased we were leaving, then after a round of hugs from Rosie and a few tears from everyone we made our way to the rickety old trike stand and our journey back to Manila had begun.

Getting here had been one hell of a trip but as is nearly always the case the trip back seemed a lot quicker. Once again Bob and I were on the jeepney roof but the road seemed to have dried out a little and it was only a 4 hour journey as opposed to the seven hour journey going there. We got back to the town of Masbate and then made our way to the dock to be confronted by people boarding the ferry that was about to leave. Rosie rapidly purchased the tickets and we were once again lucky enough to get a private room which afforded us that little bit of privacy and comfort that made the 23 hour journey bearable.

We arrived at Manila North Harbor at Midday and feeling decidedly worse for wear due to a severe lack of sleep we joined the milling crowd and exited the boat. We proceeded through the cursory check point and entered into the swarthy crowd of miscreants that seem to proliferate around port areas throughout the world. Basically the area was jammed packed with hardly enough room to move, and the crowd was moving at an agonizingly slow pace because hawkers, beggars, porters pick pockets and god knows who else simply pushed their way towards the exiting bait passengers all looking for a single opportunity to make that extra piso.

Eventually we made it to the outer ring of people and were just standing there looking for a taxi when all of a sudden we were surrounded by 4 Filipino guys one of whom bumped into Bob causing him to drop his traveling bag. Immediately I sensed something was going on so with bags firmly in hand I pushed the guy away using my shoulder as he went reeling backwards cash started falling out of Bobs pocket. Unbeknown to myself or Bob this guy was a pickpocket and I had bumped him just as he had his hand in Bobs pocket fishing for cash. My shoulder bump put him on the ground where he scrambled around for about 5 seconds gathering the fallen money and before Bob or myself comprehended what was happening he was up and running instantly disappearing into the crowd.

So now Bob was out of money it was only ten thousand piso but in those days that was a large amount. Luckily for us I still had a little money in the bum bag that I kept around my waist so I took Rosie’s bag from her and said you girls go find a taxi and bring back here. Bob and myself had to wait about twenty minutes and all the time we were surrounded by a rag tag bunch of Filipinos all looking at us with a mixture of curiosity and resentment. In later years I was to experience this look in many situations and if it taught me one thing it was that on the whole Filipino men and foreign men do not particularly like each other and quite often on the Filipino’s side there is a sort of underlying seething resentment towards us which most of the time is suppressed but occasionally will bubble to the service and that’s when the trouble starts. Often in the poorer areas this resentment is almost a tangible thing and they make no effort to hide it. The resentment and blame is literally etched on some Filipino men’s faces and in my experience when you see this it is best to stand your ground but do it in an assertive way rather than a domineering way and in most cases it will subside.

Rosie and Bob’s girl returned with a taxi and while I loaded our bags into the boot making sure it was locked properly, the others sat quietly in the taxi all appreciating the rickety old aircon that was pumping out the minutest amounts of cold air. The journey back to the Mayfair took us about twenty minutes and after I paid the driver we entered what had become our home away from home and there in the garden area were Ken and David who when we entered simply looked up, smiled and said, “gooday boys back so soon how about a cold one on the house”.

Bob and I both declined telling them we had to check in first grab a shower and then if we still had the energy we would come down and have a few drinks with them. I looked at David and said “mate this traveling is tiring work but I could probably swing a few cold ones a little bit later”, to which he replied, “no worries mate they will be waiting for you here when you are ready”. This was the classic approach of this hotels management and both Bob and myself breathed a sigh of relief thinking, it’s bloody good to be home.

After a shower and a thorough wash I felt like a human being again so I asked Rosie what she wanted to do and she replied Rosie visit friend and with that finished she sauntered over to the door made sure the latch was secure, then sauntered back to me and dropping to her knees started sucking on my cock like a woman possessed. I remember thinking what the fuck have I done to deserve this and then instantly saying to myself hey you idiot wake up, don’t question the woman’s motives just relax and enjoy the ride. Rosie must have been sucking on my knob for at least ten minutes and all the time I was fighting it but in the end couldn’t hold back and with a healthy moan I exploded in her mouth which caused her to get up and rush into the bathroom. I have often noted with Filipinas that they have no problem taking your seed in their mouth but they don’t like to swallow it, not that this is any big problem but I do think it is kind of like finishing the job 80% instead of 100%.

After having washed her mouth out Rosie came back into the room and said “Rosie need money to see friend” and feeling totally relaxed and spent I handed over 1000 piso then settled down for a well deserved sleep. I must have slept for about 5 hours because when I woke it was dark and by the time I got downstairs David was closing up the travel office. He saw me coming and said, “you ready to hit the bars kid cause I sure am”. There are many things you can say about David Goldshaft but one things for sure his lust and genuine enjoyment of the Manila bar scene were unabatable and this man genuinely lived for the bar scene and the beautiful girls it encompassed.

Walking along M.H. Del Pilar, David informed me that he had found this little number in Bloomers bar and would like to make that our first stop. We entered Bloomers and straight away this bubbly little thing with a firm bubble butt and tits like little ripe magos jumped on David and said, “papa David, Papa David, you buy Sally drink now”. We made our way to one of the bar stools in front of the wet bar and in between gropes David asked Sally, “hey Sal where’s your friend for my Martin”. Sally replied for a “wait” and jumped off Davids lap and disappeared behind a black curtain off to the side. I assured David there was really no need and that Rosie had pretty much drained me, to which he only smiled and said, “you won’t be saying that in a minute kid”.

I sipped on my Jack Daniels coke when suddenly from out behind the curtain Sally reappared with this little spinner that had the tightest perkiest little ass I have ever seen and jaunty wiggle to her ass along with an amazingly pretty face. This girls name was Amore and as she was introduced to me all thoughts of Rosie completely vanished and I found myself ordering a ladies drink for the girl. Amore was a true Filipina beauty, she had those elfin features which get me every time and her firm round tits were for me perfect. I was totally in lust and as she sat on my lap wiggling her butt in just the right way I felt that all to familiar stiring in my loins.

Amore swore she had only worked in the bar for 3 weeks but somehow I knew she had a lot more than three weeks experience by the way she was working my engorged member like an expert. David and I sat there buying ladies drinks for about an hour until I couldn’t take it any more and turning to David I said, “you’re a bastard you knew this was going to happen didn’t you” to which he just smiled and said take her to Anito mate and have yourself a great time”. I looked at him and said “what about Rosie what happens if she finds out” and he replied, “mate your in the Philippines she will get over it”. This platitude did little to sooth my slight nagging guilt but in the end I had no choice as Amore had obviously decided there was no way I was getting out of this so I asked her, “Amore you like bar fine? She replied, “simpri Amore change now, you pay bar”. With that said she jumped off my lap and ran behind the black curtain again. I looked at David and said, “what about you mate I mean you wanted to come here to meet Sally” and he replied “yeah why not, I have already done her and there’s a new one in Visions I wanted to check out but what the fuck . Hey Sally go and get changed, let’s go bar fine”.

As we exited Bloomers thoughts of Rosie returned to plague me but before I could have second thoughts David had hailed a cab, told him where we were going and it was off to Anito lodge for some debaucherous fun and games. Amore as it turned out was absolutely dynamite in the bed with a vibrant sexuality that new no limits. Nothing was a problem for her and when she was ready to cum she would simply announce, ‘Amore ride, Amore ride now’. Our session must have lasted well over an hour with me cuming twice and Amore numerous times. At the end I was absolutely knackered but realizing the Anoto lodge charged extra for over 3 hours I asked Amore to accompany me to the shower with the plan of leaving after showering together.

Initially I thought this was a good plan but as soon as I felt Amores tight little behind rubbing against my crotch, I knew I was going for round 3. I was soaping Amores legs and my dick was rock hard then Amore turned round and with her hands against the shower cubicle wall said Martin do Amore now. Well of course this was like a red flag to a bull and next thing I knew I was ramming my cock into her velvet love tunnel while the water gently sprayed over us. This hectic wet sexual encounter lasted only minutes with Amore all the time begging me to smack her ass and pull her hair while I fucked her from behind. Not being one to pass on an opportunity like this I gladly complied and it wasn’t long before I felt myself exploding deep inside her.

After the sexual encounter with Amore I was completely spent and as we exited Anito lodge with sincere vows to get together again I put her into a taxi and then hailed one for myself to head back towards the Mayfair and a good nights sleep. The ride back to the Mayfair was quick and painless and somewhat to my relief as I let myself into the room, I realized there was no sign of Rosie and no sooner did my head hit the pillow than I was fast asleep.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 54



Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer


Chapter 54

A close call.

So there it was, mankind’s oldest problem, a knocked up girl and all the social complications that go with it. Good old Bob had been following his dick around and this is where it had landed him, stuck on some oversized mango swamp of the coast of Masbate, with a family of Filipino’s expectations running wild, and all out to extract their pound of flesh. I broke the grasp of Bob and then replied, “you certainly know how to get yourself into some shit don’t you. Just what you expect me to do about it I have no fucking idea but let’s have a seat and see if we can find a solution to your problem”. Amazing how easy it was for me to keep a cool head since I wasn’t the one stuck in the situation. Half of me was kind of thinking stuff Bob this is what he gets for following his dick all the time and at the end of the day this was the same guy I had caught point blank getting a blow job from my girlfriend. On the other hand Bob was an Aussie bloke stuck out here in a hostile environment and totally at the mercy of the local Filipinos and I could see by the look on his face he was scared shitless.

Bob led us to where he was sitting and there were the two girls that I had last seen him with, along with about twenty other Filipino’s, who I assumed must be the girls family. At first the family members gave myself and Rosie the once over and there was an almost tangible sense of hostility there. I looked at Rosie who looked back at me seemingly oblivious of the hostility and I thought to myself, I really hope Rosie helps out because without her this could get very tricky. I was having visions of standing back to back with Bob while the Filipinos attacked us with razor sharp bolos but luckily it never came to this.

As we sat down and joined the little group Rosie sat and talked to the girls and to the older women while Bob and myself were surrounded by the men. I could see Rosie chatting away but she kept on looking over at Bob and myself shaking her head. Meanwhile Bob and myself were stuck just sitting there with the stony faced men folk of the village, just staring at us without saying a word. This situation was tense to say the least and I was deciding how to handle this, when suddenly the basketball landed in my arms and I had a whole group of young Filipino guys shouting at me. I looked to Rosie for some help but she just motioned for me to get up and said, “you play basketball”.

Now as it turns out I used to be okay at basketball having played it for many years when at school, but no matter how good I was, nothing could have compared me for this. This was not ordinary basketball where the ball bounced properly and there were actually some rules, this was more like a melee or some sort of wild free for all and had only a vague resemblance to what ordinary people would call basketball. I started playing but honestly I had a big problem because I had no idea who was on my side. This seemed to amuse the boys and I was very soon the object of fun. I can remember thinking how fit and agile these guys were. They had no training, the hoops were all over the place in terms of height, and yet they moved like greased lighting with amazing agility and speed.

The game seemed to move rapidly and pretty soon I was totally buggered but despite my being so tired it was obvious the guys got some sort of amusement out of my bumbling efforts and they weren’t about to let me sit down. Every time I was about to say, I’ve had enough, the ball would end up in my hands and I was forced to play. I had been going for about ten minutes now and was a ball of sweat but I was damned if I was going to give up and give these guys the upper hand. Digging down deep I steeled myself for however long this would take and then as the ball came flying into my hands rather than run with it I simply did a perfect jump shot and luckily for me the ball went through the hoop in what would have been a classic three point shot.

The game lasted another ten minutes and during that time I found myself with the ball on numerous occasions and each time they were looking for me to repeat the three point shot. I would like to say that I had a perfect record and set the hoops on fire but nothing could be further from the truth. I did however manage something like a 60% success rate and this seemed to impress the boys to the extent where I became one of the team and had now earned their respect.

After the game I made my way back to where Bob was, covered in sweat, and Rosie came over saying, “Martin play good, now Martin buy drink with boys, Rosie talk girls mother”. I motioned to Bob that we had to buy some drink and he came up with a couple of hundred piso which I gave to the guy who seemed to be team captain and told him “we drink now”. My offer of alcohol consumption seemed to please him and within minutes two bottles of Gineebra Gin were produced, some sprite, two tubes of ice and one cup. There was about ten of us drinking and the idea was for a shot of gin to be poured into the cup along with a little sprite and the ice then the guys would take it turns skulling the drink.

While all this was going on Rosie was involved in a deep conversation with an older lady who I assumed was the girls mother and after about an hour or so she made her way over to me and announced, “we have big problem. Bob he go with girl and now she pregnant and family want to marry”. Straight away I looked at Bob and said, “don’t know what we are going to do now mate, I mean this is the classic shotgun wedding, you’ve knocked the girl up mate so you better do the right thing as I reckon that’s the only way we are going to get out of this”. Bob looked at me with the look of a haunted and trapped man, then suddenly a smile creased his features and he said, “Rosie love can you tell them I need to go back to Manila to my embassy to get the right papers so the marriage is legal. Tell them I will take their daughter back, I will pick up the clearance from my embassy, then I will come back here and marry”. Rosie gave Bob a what do you think I was born yesterday look and then proceeded to translate what Bob had said.

I watched closely as I saw expressions of disbelief alternating with expressions of understanding and this is where I came to believe that when it comes to provincial Filipinos if you cant baffle them with brains then baffle them with bullshit, still holds true. After Rosies little speech the mother and a group of elders gathered together and then a little old guy stepped out of the pack and said something to Rosie who all of a sudden cowered and started pressing her forehead to his hand in the classic form of respect for ones elders. Rosie then turned to me and said, “we stay night, in morning we leave with Bob and girl and go Manila but Bob he come back or there big trouble in village”. With this pronounced I could literally see the weight of the world being lifted off Bob’s shoulders and although still very much subdued there was a little spring in his step again as he realized his quick thinking had pulled him given him a little leeway.

That night was spent on a sleeping matt placed on the floor of some hut surrounded by a swarm of mosquitoes all dining out on my tender white flesh. There was no such thing as a fan and no electricity so Bob and I had to make do with a flame torch and an old flashlight that had magically appeared from nowhere. During the night it was obvious that neither Bob nor myself were getting any sleep so rather than try we simply decided to stay up all night and have a chat like some sort of long lost buddies. That night I think Bob and myself became a little closer as we both reflected on the various choices we had made and what had been the consequences of those choices. As for Bob he realized he wasn’t out of the woods yet but now he could see some sort of path through the trees and even though it was a small hope he was clinging to it.

The next mornings rising sun found myself and Bob lying on the sleeping mats just chatting. I can’t remember all the things we discussed that night but it was kind of cool having the old Bob back and after we poured water over ourselves from the little bucket Bob packed his bags and we were ready to go. Bob’s girl appeared together with Rosie and as we made our way through the village towards our waiting boat all the girls relatives lined the street saying goodbye. At this stage Bob was still being suitably contrite and humble, in fact I was quite impressed with his acting performance. I knew full well that he couldn’t wait to get out of there but he was making it appear as if he was really going to miss the island and that he was genuinely sad to be leaving.

It seemed like forever getting to the boat especially for Bob who was just so relieved yet unable to show it. Eventually we got to the boat and I helped Rosies uncle push it further into the water. Next came Bob’s girl who we loaded onto the boat then Bob and his bags then just as Rosie was about to jump in the little old man whom she had shown so much deference to previously stepped out of the crowd again and said something to Rosie which caused the color to drain from her face and once again press her forehead against his hand in the sign of utmost respect.

As we got under way I could see Bob visibly relax and breathe several sighs of relief but I was more interested in who was the little old guy Rosie had spoken to and what he had said that seemed to shake her so much. I asked Rosie, “hey hun who was that old guy you were talking with” and she replied, “that Bob girls lolo (grandfather) he tell me he NPA and have many friend Manila. He say Bob no come back, we all make dead”.

Typhoon Tales

They say imitation is the greatest form of flattery so with this thought firmly in mind I proudly present my typhoon tale dedicated to Crumple, whose style I have unashamedly copied.

Of course I realize I will not even come close to the master who has the unerring ability to draw random thoughts from points A to Z and somehow make a connection however I will give it a shot and in so doing hopefully describe in an entertaining way what we all went through with the arrival of super typhoon Megi.

Megi what kind of a name is Megi? Have you ever wondered why they always name Typhoons after women? Yes, Yes I know the old joke about them being wet when they come and after they’ve gone leaving a trail of devastation. But seriously now, why do they always seem to give typhoons female names?

For this typhoon we had plenty of warning. Thanks to the modern wonder of the Internet and that godsend named Google many among us have become instant meteorologists and long before these storms hit we are warned with imposing looking maps boasting a swirl of color reminiscent of a Jackson Pollock painting.



I am fixated on those red swirls Jackson Pollock had nothing on the typhoon weather map.


Anyone who has lived here for five or more years or even visited just once during the rainy season is well aware of the havoc and devastation these storms create. And us foreigners are not alone, the Filipinos are all too familiar with the fury of Pacific Ocean typhoons and consequently Northern Luzon was declared a national calamity area before the storm even hit.

Talk about weather prediction but the scary thing is, they were right. The great mass of low pressure, blasting wind and torrential rain slowly built up over Guam and then traveled its torturously slow path towards Philippines all the time building in intensity until it made landfall as a category 5 Super Typhoon.

Which brings me to my second why question for the day. Even though we are prepared for the typhoons, we are aware of their approach and they come every bloody year, why then do they cause so much damage and take so many lives? Is the infrastructure that haphazard? Are the typhoons so strong that no matter what the Filipinos do they are going to succumb to the ravages of mother nature or is it because the Filipinos have destroyed so much of the natural vegetation they have cleared a perfect path for the annual mud slides?



200 Miles per hour battered Illocos province causing massive damage and loss of life.




Fields Avenue is always prone to flooding every time a major storm hits Angeles.


Then again maybe its just good old human nature. Could it be human nature to become attached to ones home and not want to abandon it or perhaps it is human nature to just stick it out no matter what the world throws at ya.



Roof what roof?


Here’s a horrible thought, perhaps it’s as I always say, ‘it’s all about the money’. Let’s face it these people who each year are battered by the storms live a precarious existence and are lucky to have two pesos to rub together as a result they can hardly be expected to build a weather proof home let alone vacate their little shanty once the typhoon hits in earnest.

But wait a minute didn’t the President just secure hundreds of millions of dollars in US aid money? Will the Philippine Government actually divert some of that money to build decent infrastructure thus avoiding more devastation and loss of life in the future? Will the Aid money actually be used to aid those who need it? Will the troops be sent to rescue some people who genuinely need rescuing or will they stick to the easy pickings of poor exploited Angeles city bar girls? Please note Jung they weren’t why questions that were will questions.

We are all familiar with the theory of global warming and if changing weather patterns are indicative of this phenomenon then the Pacific Ocean typhoons are proof that global warming really is happening. When I first came to the Philippines 19 years ago I noticed it started drizzling in late June early July and carried on well into late September and many of the major storms were down south in the Visayas or Mindanao however in the last seven years I have noticed a distinct change where the major storms seem to skirt the southern regions and instead batter Northern Luzon plus they are each year coming later and later each year.

Those Moro Liberation guys down south must have come up with a way to control the weather and are now diverting the storms northwards to batter the predominantly Catholic Luzon. And all this time we thought they were just your average run of the mil Moslem extremists.

When it comes to typhoons preparation is everything. I know this and yet every time a typhoon hits I am unprepared. There is never enough food or water in my fridge, my front yard which I have been persevering with for six years still takes on the appearance of a swimming pool at the slightest drop of rain and my Guava tree still blows in the wind threatening to tear down the power lines. I console myself with the fact that with the typhoon comes a ‘brown out’ and if I had any food in the fridge it would go bad anyway. As for my front yard, well it becomes a cool playground for my dogs and the Guava tree provides welcome shade from the sun so it can blow against the bloody power lines all it bloody wants. Having said this I must admit, 24 hours prior to the typhoon hitting I got SWMBO’s father to chop off a few of the more prominent branches as this way I don’t have to put up with a distraught landlady who is convinced my Guava tree is possessed by some evil fruit demon hell bent on taking down the neighborhood power lines.



My front yard which becomes a swimming pool with even a hint of rain






My Guava tree which my landlady is 100% sure is possessed by a demonic fruit demon hell bent on bringing down power lines every time there is a storm in Angeles.

I am never one to be prepared, (perhaps that’s why I was thrown out of boy scouts), but when it comes to ‘brown outs’ I have learnt the hard way and have now invested in a number of small battery powered fans. These fans will not cool you down significantly but they will blow enough breeze to keep you from turning into a puddle of sweat. Trust me there is nothing more annoying than having nothing to do but lye in bed swimming in a pool of your own greasy sweat.

There are many problems associated with typhoons and one of them will always be the dreaded ‘brown out’. In the Philippines if it rains there will be a ‘brown out’, if there is too much sunshine there will be a ‘brown out’ and if there is a typhoon you can bet your bottom dollar there will always be a ‘brown out’. In fact I am anticipating another brown out any minute now simply because I am writing about them. Of course there is never any reason given for the ‘brown outs’ and when they happen one is brutally reminded just how dependant on electricity we really are. The brown outs force locals to adapt and live their lives around intermittent sparks of electricity.

When the typhoon hit’s the brown outs go into overtime and we lucky expatriates get to experience that uniquely Filipino phenomenon, the “rolling brown out”. More often than not the rolling brown outs are only short lived being a duration of two or three hours then an hour of power then 2 more hours of brown out etc. The rolling brown outs are annoying but in a way easier to handle than what I have termed the Super Brown Outs. I figure if you can have Super Typhoons then you can have Super Brown Out’s simply because the two so often occur together.

As I have said previously typhoon Megi was well broadcast and I knew only to well there would be prolonged brown outs coming but nothing could have prepared me for what eventually happened. The typhoon had been forecast to make landfall Monday morning and as we all braced ourselves a number of us were lulled into a false sense of security by the slight breeze blowing and occasional raindrops falling from the sky.

On the news and by text messaging we heard tales of woe from up North but so far Angeles had remained virtually untouched. I thought about this and images of the bright red swirls virtually missing Angeles on the weather maps suddenly sprang to mind. These were accompanied by the prophetic words from the likes of Thotoy and Shagger both of whom claimed “Angeles never really cops the brunt of these storms” and “Angeles is protected because it has mountains on both sides”. I looked outside at the calm surroundings and thought to myself who am I to argue with the venerable weather sages Thotoy and Shagger, looks like they were right Angeles would once again escape.

By 9PM just as I was stumbling into the shower the first brown out hit. Now when the power is cut off there is no water so one minute I am standing under a shower letting the water cascade into my sleep laden eyes and the next minute I am standing underneath a dry shower head looking like a complete idiot. I hear the pitter patter of little feet and then through the door carrying a candle comes my eldest daughter who looks at me and promptly asks why are you standing under the shower with no water dad?

By candle light I manage to dry off , get changed, don my raincoat, straddle the bike and amidst cries of “goodbye daddy” and “see you later mahal” I bravely head off into the ominous looking clouds and blanketing rain that once was Fields Avenue.

Tonight was DocJaidee’s last night and the lanky mongerer had made it abundantly clear that he expected a good time and wasn’t about to let a mere super typhoon dampen his spirits. We partied in Golden Nile until about 3AM and during that time there was continual brown outs in fact so many we couldn’t tell when we were on normal power and when we were on generator. At times I would look out on the street from my lofty perch only to see the lights on Clark fully illuminated but the lights on Fields all non existent.



While the storm raged outside the lanky DocJaidee was uncommonly subdued on his last night in town.


Which brings me to my third ‘why question’. Why is it a system installed by the joint efforts of Americans and Filipinos some 30 years ago, works better than any modern day equivalent installed solely by Filipinos? Watching the inner sanctum of Clark function smoothly no matter what the elements throw at it compared to the normal world of the Philippines as represented by Fields Ave and Perimeter Road one is forced to have some serious doubts as to the future of this country.

The night progressed smoothly until a bunch of AE members came in including Nitty, BamBam, Drummer, Jung and others. They all sat at the big tables and proudly announced “well there’s no power and we cant go home so we thought we would drop by and say hello. We knew you had a generator and we knew you would still be here so come on it’s your round”.

Now noticeably most of this group had a girl with them so I knew if there was any money to be made it would be from the drinks but at this time of night in these conditions I reasoned it was hardly worth it so when the mamasan asked, “can we close early because the generator run out of gasoline”. Even I know generators run on diesel but who was I to pick straws so I took this as my cue and closed shop.

Once SWMBO and I got outside I saw that it wasn’t to bad in fact there was hardly any wind at all and the rain wasn’t exactly heavy either. We straddled the bike then just as we were nearing Bunny Burger SWMBO whispers in my ear that she is hungry. Now I don’t know how many readers have experienced the wrath of a hungry Filipina but let me tell you its not a pretty sight and behind that soft diminutive whisper is a world of demand unparalleled by western women.

Knowing full well the consequences of taking an angry unfed Filipina home I deferred to my cowardice and promptly made a sharp left turn bringing us to a stop outside the ever beckoning Bunny Burger.

In the Philippines there are numerous restaurants that claim to be open 24/7 but in reality few of them are. Bunny Burger however is the exception. When we got to Bunny Burger I noticed there were several customers inside even though it was 4AM and the conditions outside were rapidly deteriorating. I asked the girl at the counter where is the delivery bike expecting her to tell me sir we cannot make delivery on night like this but instead she smiled and simply replied “the boy deliver order Sir Martin”. Hearing this I thought to myself it’s hats off to Bunny Burger. When it comes to food delivery this joint is to fast food what Wells Fargo was to mail delivery 200 years ago “we deliver come rain hail or shine”.



Baby back ribs always popular with Filipinas typhoon or no typhoon.


Having had my assumptions shattered and being put firmly in my place I realized not all Filipinos are lazy, disorganized and corrupt. In fact sometimes under adverse conditions the Filipino male will excel and their tenacity and willingness to work are clearly demonstrated.

With take out firmly tucked under her arm SWMBO ordered a trike whilst I braved the elements on my motor bike. Once home there of course was no power so our Bunny Burger was consumed by candle light which kind of made for a romantic setting and no sooner was it finished than I found myself on top of SWMBO doing what a man and a woman naturally should.

By the time we had finished copulating with the sound of wind howling through the Guava tree and the rain pouring down outside it was 6AM and I fell into a fretful snooze with visions of flood water flowing through my living room.

Now in a typhoon with no power I will normally sleep with the windows open so as to capture some sort of breeze and keep things a little bit cooler. My windows are covered with wire mesh thus preventing dengue carrying mosquitoes from devouring me and it is actually quite a pleasant experience. That is until you are rudely shaken out of your slumber by the sound of the neighbors roosters crowing, (yes they even crow when half submerged in flood waters), or the sound of the taho vendor advertising his wares at full cry.





I am not sure how many of you are familiar with the Filipino food named Taho but basically it is bean curd topped with caramelized sugar and sago. This is normally considered a delicacy for breakfast but can also be enjoyed anytime of day and night.

With the inclement weather conditions I wasn’t expecting the Taho man to be doing his rounds so when I was jolted out of my sleep by his ringing voice I could hardly believe my ears. Normally I would have been pissed off being deprived of my precious sleep but for some reason this particular morning I found his familiar voice strangely comforting and I found myself grudgingly respecting this guy who no matter what the conditions lugged his heavy metal containers of bean curd and caramelized sugar around with him to make a grand total of approximately 400 hundred piso daily.



8 AM in the morning and this guy is out selling Taho no matter what the weather conditions.


The brown out had now been going for approximately 8 hours when all of a sudden in the midst of the storm the power came back on but only for a minute and then out again. Shit I thought to myself this power supply is like a prick teasing bitch, it gets you excited with its seductive promise only to pull away at the last moment leaving you frustrated and hot under the collar.

Throughout that day the wind continued howling and the rain pelted down like some giant god pissing on humanity trying to drown the entire world in his urine. The power would come back briefly only to be snatched away again in a momentary heartbeat.

There was no TV, no water, no lights and nothing to do at home except write down notes for this article whilst watching the flood waters in my front yard steadily rising.

It is now 12 minutes past 10 on Tuesday night. The rain is pelting down harder than ever but the wind seems to have died down. I have been texting Drummer who has rapidly become the local weather expert and he has explained to me how typhoons travel in a swirling motion and what we are now experiencing is the typhoons tail. This is all very well but I have seen the maps on AE and I know that the front of the typhoon is larger than the tail which leads me to my fourth and I promise very last why question. Why is it that we had more rain from the tail of the typhoon than we did from the front?



The tail end is significantly smaller than the front yet in Angeles we received more rain from the tale than from the front.


Being about as knowledgeable of the weather as I am of a woman’s mind, this typhoon tail business means nothing to me but even though it is raining outside we still have power and I have found time to finish this article. My air-con is working, my electricity powered fan is blowing and after my performance earlier this morning SWMBO is looking at me with what can only be described as a look of intoxicating expectation. Typhoon or no typhoon my little universe is alright and I certainly have a lot to be thankful for.

C How They Made Me! Chapter 53


Memoirs of a Philippine Mongerer

C How they made me chapter 53:

A reunion with long lost Bob.

The trek back to Rosies village was interesting. Okay we weren’t exactly in dense tropical jungle but the vegetation was lush, definitely tropical and the only light we had was moonlight and the occasional spark from lighters that the men carried. The going wasn’t easy and there was a lot of stumbling at least on my behalf and I could still feel the effects of the tuba buzzing my head, but our escort seemed to know the land like the back of their hands and they were sure footed as mountain goats.

It was certainly a weird feeling having these guys armed with rifles and razor sharp bolos escorting us and in some ways I felt like I was in a Vietnam war movie. Of course trekking through the jungle was hot and tiring work and it wasn’t long before I had a lather of sweat over my entire body. The men were mostly silent except to ask one another for a cigarette or to pass some comment which would start a brief conversation and then just as quickly as it had begun it would stop and we were walking in silence again. I was feeling more than a little bit uneasy and wondering why we needed these guys as an escort but whenever I glanced at Rosie she seemed unperturbed so as much as I could I decided to relax and just go with the flow.

After what must have been about two hours walk we arrived back at Rosies village which by this time was fast asleep yet as we entered candle lights began to shine from out of the small windows in the nippa huts and I could see the vague outline of inquisitive young faces as the kids looked on this spectacle wondering what kind of strange procession was this that had arrived at their village in the middle of the night.

As for me I was still feeling uneasy with the armed guards presence and I certainly felt a sense of relief when we finally arrived in Rosies village. This was at least an area that I was a little bit familiar with and its familiarity made me feel a lot more comfortable. I looked at Rosie and said hey girl I am really tired so I’m going to crash out if that’s okay with you and in answer she said “Rosie come you”. Rosie then turned to the group of guys and said something in the local language which they all nodded at then proceeded to walk back to my hut with me. When we got back to the hut I turned to Rosie and asked, “do you want to come inside” but I guess she must have read my mind and she replied maybe tomorrow. Rosie go papa friends make party”. I leaned down and gave Rosie a kiss goodnight and she then looked at me and said, “you give Rosie 300 peso”. “What” I replied “why do I have to give you money” and Rosie gave me another one of those looks that said you foreigners are so dumb and then replied, Rosie pay guards, guards NPA bad people not make angry.

At this stage I had only read a little about the NPA in the guidebook but I could see from the look on Rosies face and hear from the tone of her voice that these were not people to mess around with so I went inside the hut to where I had my money stashed and got her 300 which she snatched from my hand and said, “Rosie see Martin tomorrow”.

With Rosie gone I had a chance to sit back and reflect on the evenings events and as I puffed on a cigarette letting the smoke relax me I thought about Rosalinda and the chance meeting that evening which was then accompanied by that old familiar stirring in my loins. I thought about Rosie and the strange turn of events that had led me here and I thought about how lucky I had been when it came to the armed to the teeth NPA men. Sitting back and reflecting I realized it wouldn’t have taken much for them to kidnap me and hold me hostage in an effort to extort some money from my family. I smiled at how lucky I had been and then for some strange reason visions of Bob entered my head and I found myself wondering how he was and then I made up my mind I was going to make arrangements to visit him as soon as possible. Even though I had caught Bob having sex with Rosie he was still my so called friend and he was certainly the only foreigner I had seen in what seemed like ages. No offence to the Filipinos but sometimes their company just wasn’t enough and I craved the company of people from a similar culture as mine.

That night I had a sound sleep despite the primitive conditions and woke up in the morning full of energy. There was a slight throbbing in my head but overall I was feeling great which I attributed to the exercise of the day before. These days when I wake up after doing exercise the day before I am all aches and pains but back then I was young and physical exertion was as natural as breathing.

After rising and walking to the sea for my morning swim I whipped up a cup of coffee and remembered my resolution to go and see Bob. Knowing that most of these people spoke rudimentary English at best it suddenly dawned on me just how difficult it would be to explain that I wanted a boat so I could visit my friend on some unnamed island that I didn’t even know the location of. Then just as I was about to succumb to the difficulty of the idea Rosie’s smiling face appeared and the idea gained new life. Hi babe I greeted her, listen girl I have been thinking and I realize I haven’t heard from Bob in close on a week and I was wondering if he was okay. Do you think you could arrange a boat so we can visit him. Rosie looked at me in bewilderment then the comprehension slowly dawned on her and she replied “Martin want boat go Bob. Rosie make boat to uncle”. There you go I thought to myself how simple was that. Having completed her rudimentary statement Rosie smiled at me stood up and said, “we go uncle now, uncle good boat”.

We locked up the hut as best we could and then head off hand in hand down the beach. As we strolled down the beach the village people were engaged in their everyday activities and I thought to myself no matter what, life goes on and living this way there was a certain predictability and as such stability. Everywhere I looked people were either cooking or showering in shorts and T/Shirts pouring water over themselves with the ‘tabo’, sifting through each others hair looking for lice, washing clothes by hand or cooking over the open fire. In fact over my years I have never seen any race of people eat like Filipinos. In other countries there seems to be set times to enjoy meals but for the Filipinos it seems to be a constant activity 24/7.

We strolled along the beach for what must have been about half a mile and then we came to a collection of dilapidated fishing boats. These boats had definitely seen better days and I found myself fervently hoping that we weren’t going to get one of these to the island. Rosie stopped at the boats and shouted to a bunch of guys that were sitting in the shade smoking and chatting. One of these guys a little seedy looking bloke with stains all over his singlet and a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth stood up and ambled over towards Rosie said something in Visayan and then glared at me with a look that was a strange mixture of curiosity and dislike.

Rosie seemed to notice her uncles demeanor and she said to me Martin you go there and pointed to a coconut tree beside the boats. Not wishing to cause any problem and having no idea of what was going on I submissively followed Rosies instructions and squatted in the shade of the coconut tree. Rosie talked with the boat driver whom I assumed was her uncle and then he slowly walked over to one of the decrepit looking boats and began to push it towards the sea. Meanwhile Rosie strolled over to where I was sitting and said, “uncle go island now”. I stood up and proceeded over to the boat and throwing my little back pack inside I proceeded to get on the other side of the boat and help push it towards the sea. This simple act seemed to please Rosies uncle and he gave me a big toothless smile with yet another cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. I have often pondered on the relationship between Filipinos and foreigners and mostly I have found that placing yourself on the same level as them works well for me. Some people adopt the I’m the boss attitude or my money puts me in a superior position attitude but I have always found trying to relate to them on the same level has served my purpose well. I have never been one to be afraid of getting down and dirty with the troops so to speak and Rosies uncle certainly seemed to appreciate this.

Together we got the boat to the sea much to the amusement of the group of fishermen who merely stayed sitting under the tree smiling at our exertions. For some reason Rosies uncles friends seemed to find the site of this big foreigner pushing the boat highly amusing and I got the feeling I had provided the moment of their day.

When we got the boat in the water Rosie jumped in and suddenly from out of nowhere a young boy appeared and Rosie motioned for him and myself to get in the boat. I climbed aboard as did the nimble as a cat boy, while Rosie’s uncle continued to push the boat into deeper water. Pretty soon the water was up to Rosie’s uncles waist so he also jumped in said something in Visayan to the boy which sent the boy scrambling into the little engine room and next thing I knew there was a steady chug, chug of the ancient motor and we were on our way.

As I have said this boat was not exactly modern or luxurious however it seemed to float okay and the engine was one of those old diesels that keep on going forever with minimal maintenance. As we chugged out into the open sea Rosie called me from the bow where I always like to sit whenever traveling by small boat and made me sit in the shade provided by a scant, hole ridden tarpaulin that had obviously seen better days. The sea was glassy smooth and as we churned our way through it Rosie sat and held my hand while engaging in conversation with her uncle. While this was going on the young boat boy was staring at me like I was some kind of apparition and when I asked Rosie why she smiled and said “you boy first, he never see like you before”. I wondered what this meant then all of a sudden the penny dropped and I realized this young Filipino boy had never seen a white man before. When Rosie told me this I thought about how I must appear to the boy like some kind of scary alien so I simply smiled gently at him which seemed to put him at ease a little bit but I noticed whenever he got a chance he would stare at me in wonder.

The boat cruised slowly over the glassy waters leaving me free to think my thoughts. Being at sea has always represented a chance in my mind for me to relax and just let my mind wander. I thought about my twisted somewhat bizarre relationship with Rosie, I thought about many of the things I had done in life and how they had led me to this point, I thought about my existence back in Australia and how different it was compared to life in the Philippine provinces and most importantly I thought about all the things that had happened to me in my short stay in the Philippines. I remembered telling my mates back home I would visit the PI for one week just because they had recommended it and now almost six months later here I was cruising on a dilapidated boat with a beautiful girl at my side heading towards an island that I and none of my friends had any previous idea existed.

After about 40 minutes on the water Rosie let out an excited little yelp and pointed to a green island shimmering in the distance. I gathered from her excitement that this must be our destination and I found myself eagerly looking forward to seeing Bob again and being able to have a conversation in English with someone from my own culture.

I am not sure what I was expecting but to be honest the island was a bit of a let down. Maybe it was because I had envisioned this tropical paradise but instead the sight that greeted me was more like a mangrove swamp. The shore line rather than being a sparkling white beach was mud and it was polluted with human rubbish, along its entire length. In my years of living here the Filipinos disregard for their environment has never ceased to amaze me and I think when it comes to the Filipinos the worst thing that mankind ever invented is plastic.

Rosies uncle slowly cruised the boat into the mangrove swamp and when it got to shallow he instructed Rosie and myself to jump out and help push the boat. We jumped out onto the slimy mud and I helped her uncle push the boat to an area where there were a number of other boats tied to the mangrove trees. While Rosie trudged through the slime her uncle tied the boat to a tree then together we followed Rosie through the mud. It was obvious to me that both Rosie and her uncle knew their way around the island and next thing I knew the mangrove swamp gave way to a sandy path which led to the islands interior.

We trudged along the path for about ten minutes and then suddenly it opened up to a communal square. The center piece of this square was a basketball court where a game was underway with houses all around it. Obviously the basketball court was the center of the community and everything else radiated out from there. I looked around wondering how I was going to find Bob when suddenly Rosie grabbed my arm and pointed. Over on the far side of the square was Bob sitting with a bunch of middle aged Filipino guys and it looked like they were passing around a mug of tuba or some other vile alcoholic liquid which was obviously meant to be consumed while watching the game.

With Rosie in the lead we made our way through the crowd to where Bob was and when he saw me approaching he literally jumped for joy and ran towards me to give me a firm hug and while doing so whispered in my ear “fucking great to see ya mate. I’ve got a bit of a problem here, these jokers know I have been rooting one of their daughters and now they reckon she’s up the duff and won’t let me go until I marry her”.