Harleys, Cars, Girls & Guitars

Filipinos Love Their Fish Fresh

The Karaoke Queen and I have been staying at an ocean resort in Lapu-Lapu City, about 15 miles outside Cebu City. At about 7:30 a.m., the fishing boats pull into shore near the shanty towns, so we march over to take advantage of the fresh catch.

The fishermen sail out on the Pacific in tiny outriggers made of plywood and bamboo and powered by engines undoubtedly castoff decades ago by the U.S. Navy. These men are incredibly agile and confident, perching on their bobbing boats in that typical Asian squat.

This family enjoyed a breakfast of chicken and fresh fish as they squatted on the rocky beach.

People in the shanty towns are incredibly poor and they live in conditions so filthy as to be threatening to their health. Evidently, the shanty towns offer some opportunity, or else they would stay at home in their mountain villages.

Because of the incredible divide between the rich and the poor, our resort is patrolled by heavily armed security forces. They carry shotguns and a few machine pistols. Over the weekend, a rich family held a wedding at the resort. Security forces for that event included armored vehicles, helicopters and military style troops.

The poor are very desperate. An American must be very careful about exposing himself. Kidnapping Americans and holding them for ransom is a thriving business here.

Each morning, the Queen purchases shrimp, squid and small fish from the sailors. Prices are absurdly low. We take the fish to the Queen’s sister’s house in Cebu. The maid prepares squid salad in an inky sauce, which I really like.

Fresh fish is something of a mania in the Philippines. I love it, but I’m beginning to yearn for a good old American hamburger and fries. This is almost impossible to find.

Everything is a Little Different in the Philippines

Some of the simplest things work in a much different way in the Philippines.

The Karaoke Queen and I took a trip to the doctor’s office. While we were in the waiting room, I felt nature calling. The receptionist led me to the bathroom. Since I was already suspicious about Filipino bathrooms, I looked around and discovered… no toilet paper.

So, I retreated back to the reception room.

“They don’t have any toilet paper,” I told the Queen. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Use the bucket and the scoop,” she said.

“How in the hell do I do that without making a mess of the entire bathroom?” I asked.

Luce, Fe and the Queen all began to laugh. They laughed so hard and so long that the doctor opened her door and scolded us to be quiet.

Luce finally had pity on me. She handed me a couple of packets of tissue paper and I hurried off to do my business.

At Fe’s house, we’ve been taking cold sponge baths, using the same bucket and scoop. It’s a hell of a way to wake up in the morning, taking a cold shower. It feels great once you’re done. Hot water is thought of as a luxury by most Filipinos.

The internet has been an adventure, too. Paolo, Fe’s son, has been kind enough to let me use his laptop, but the “i” key doesn’t work. Neither, for that matter, does the “k” key work. Try typing a serious weblog post and having to copy and paste the letter “i” every time you want to use it.

I got so frustrated that Paolo sent me over to a neighbor’s house to use their computer. Everything went well until I tried to log into password protected sites. The operating system was pirated and blocked from such sites! I tried a couple of other computers and discovered that pirated operating systems were the norm.

Finally, I surrendered and headed for the mall and the internet café, where I’m now typing. This solved the problem. Prices are dirt cheap… usually around $2 an hour or less for a well equipped PC.

And, I now always carry a couple of packs of tissue with me wherever I got.

Choppers in Cebu

Filipinos love motorcycles.

What we would call scooters are a major form of transportation. These are 155 cc Jap bikes. They dart in and out of traffic by the tens of thousands.

But, Filipinos also dream of bigger things. They dream of driving mean machines just like the Americans.

Paolo and I stopped by this custom shop in Mandaue. We noticed, as we drove by, a few police bike conversions in the driveway.

Inside we found a few customs built on the frames and power plants of 600 cc Hondas. These may not seem big by American standards, but by Filipino standards that's huge. Money is hard to come by here, and people are built on a smaller scale.

The gas tank below incorporates many standard chopper themes... a death head, wings and swords. Note that the skull is cracked.

The dragon painted on this gas tank is more of an Asian theme.

Of course, beautiful half naked women and the Grim Reaper belong together.

For an upcoming design show the builders at this shop are puttng together a heavily armed Gothic bike.

Check out the mace and axe on the fork. You won't want to get caught in the path of this weapon.

The price for one of these choppers... about $7,500 U.S. An incredible fortune by the standards of a Filipino in Cebu.

Right next door to the chopper shop... the Chapel of Saint Joseph.

Mandaue Market

We dropped off Dongkoy at the airport and then we hit Mandaue Market at about 5:30 a.m. The joint was jumpting. Vendors from the countryside sell produce and meat in the market. Fishermen bring their catch.

The market is not for the feint hearted. I wanted to see the goat meat vendors, but I didn't quite expect to see this bucket of severed goat heads. I have no idea how these are cooked... goat's head soup?

This platter of goat hearts somehow didn't seem quite so shocking. Filipinos eat the entire animal, including the innards, as do most Asians.

The market is located in a concrete building that seems to have seen years of service. By Western standards, sanitation leaves a lot to be desired. If you stand too close to the vendors while they are chopping meat or fish, they splatter you with the blood.

But, the vendors seems genuinely pleased that I thought it worthwhile to take their pictures. They beckoned to me and smiled.

Yet another shock to the Western mind, a platter of chicken heads. Vendors sell every part of the chicken, including the feet and the intestines, which are meant to be barbecued.

The Karaoke Queen and Fe bought yellow tuna sliced into steaks by the vendor and about 2 kilos of beef. Guests are coming for lunch and we planned a barbecue.

The Queen had been reluctant to take me to the market because she thought it might be a bit much for my pansy American sensibilities. I was fascinated. Filipinos work incredibly hard, and they are willing to tackle any job, no matter how dirty it might be.

Church of the Baby Jesus

Yesterday, Paolo and Dongkoy drove me to Santo Niño, a Catholic cathedral in Cebu. Paolo and Dongkoy are Fe's sons. Fe is the Karaoke Queen's sister, and we are staying at her house.

Filipino Catholics are very passionate about their spiritual lives. The morning mass was standing room only. We tried to squeeze in, but we could barely get into the lobby. The church has erected TV monitors so that people in the lobby can watch Mass and follow it with a prompt board.

Out in the square, Paolo and Dongkoy ran a gauntlet of beggars and vendors. Everybody tried to sell us something. They didn't want to take no for an answer either. I can't blame them. People who live in the shanty towns are struggling just to survive. This is one of the reasons that spiritual life is so important to Filipinos... they are hoping and praying for a better life.

This fellow was trying to sell guitars at a stand in the plaza. I didn't stop to play them because I didn't want to go through the hard sell.

As we drove home, we passed this cow that had been roped to a fence alongside one of the shanty towns. Somebody is trying to farm right in the middle of the city.

The car broke down along the way back home. We stopped at a little shop and had the repairman check the battery. We really couldn't figure out what was wrong, so we called out to the men standing along the street and they all pushed us so we could get the jump start. We gave them a few pesos for their help.

While we were waiting, I took a picture of this street vendor selling eggs. Another new immigrant to the city trying to find a way to feed himself and his family. Filipinos are hard workers and they just want a chance. Most of them succeed.

Cebu, the Philippines

Staying with the Karaoke Queen's family, in Mandaue, a suburb of Cebu. The entire family has been gathering for a wake for a family member. I got to hold the baby, Jonathan, while a breakfast of fish soup and fruit was cooking up on the back porch.

We drove to Cebu's version of Sam's Club to buy a truck load of groceries. Traffic is choatic and wild. No traffic signs. So, when you get to a four way stop, it's every man for himself. You've got to fight your way through the scooter, pedicabs and trucks.

Below, a picture of one of Cebu's legendary Jeepneys.

In a pinch, you get around any way you can. This young man is riding to the jobsite in the shovel of a frontloader. He waved to me as I took his picture.

The energy of the city is off the wall. I wake up in the morning to the crowing of the fighting cocks and a marching band that is calling people out to a fiesta in a neighboring town. The streets are lined with shanties. Squatters fresh from the mountains rent a few square feet of land and throw up a corrogated steel roof.

Yesterday, we attended Arturo's funeral in the local Catholic Church. The choir was spectacular, incredibly emotional and soaring. They call Filipinos "the musicians of Asia" for good reason.

Saints & Sinners on Sale at CD Baby!

I just got the album posted. Click here or on the picture to go to the CD Baby site.

Soon, the album will also be for sale on iTunes.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers

I dropped the Road King off at Woodstock Harley-Davidson on Saturday for the annual tune-up, safety inspection and vacuuming out of my wallet. The old joke that “H-D standards for a hundred dollars,” no longer applies. I can’t recall the last time that Harley relieved me of less than $500.

The Karaoke Queen followed me through mist and rain as I drove to the dealership. Although I dressed in four layers, the cold set off my arthritis and the rest of the day was a botch.

While we were at the dealership, I dropped off a copy of the Saints & Sinners CD for Lilly, our Chinese friend who works the clothing department. We told her that we were about to embark for a vacation in the Philippines. Our flight stops over in Hong Kong.

“Be careful while you’re there,” Lilly warned.

“Why?” I asked.

Lilly explained that tourists were the target of a new and frightening racket in Hong Kong and throughout China. Pretty young woman seek out tourists, get close to them (often by pretending to be prostitutes), then stab them with a hypodermic needle to inject them with a sedative.

The victims are then carted off to a doctor who finishes them off and harvests their organs for the lucrative organ-on-demand transplant business. A kidney fetches $150,000!

Jesus Christ!

Of course, kidnapping westerners and holding them for ransom is a thriving business in the Philippines.

I’m looking forward to the trip. I plan to return with my body intact.

Pasta Night in Bergenfield

The Karaoke Queen and I attended a charity fund raiser for The Bergen County Police Chiefs’ Association on Friday night… Pasta Night, held at St. John’s Catholic Church in Bergenfield.

For 10 bucks, you get all the pasta with tomato sauce and salad you can eat, plus unlimited beer and wine. The event draws just about every cop and fireman in Bergen County, New Jersey. Dinner is served in the church gym, with the cops and firemen playing the role of waiters. They line up at the kitchen to fill huge trays with sausage, pasta, salad and bread.

We sat with Bernice and her legions of children and grandchildren. Pasta night is pure family fun. As soon as the kids finished eating, they commenced running and playing, climbing up on the stage and yelling. Awesome noise levels. Note the rotating ticket drum to the left of the kids. I did not win the huge flat screen TV that was auctioned off.

The sound system belted out Italian crooners. Haven’t heard so many hits from the 30s, 40s and 50s since... I don’t know when. Police and firemen in Bergen County are overwhelmingly Italian.

Next fall, the Police Chiefs will host another charity fund raiser, the annual beefsteak dinner and comedy night, featuring Uncle Floyd. If we can work it out, Livin the Blues will do the lead act.

What a Drag it is to Get Old!

God, is it a drag! The Stones were right!

Getting up in the morning is sometimes an incredible struggle. My body feels like it weighs a ton and I feel as stiff as concrete. Unless I do my yoga first thing, I fight against this all day.

Various medical realities have forced me to cease my former life of carousing, drinking, drugging and womanizing. This is such a bore! Unless I have a gig that keeps me up late, I’m in bed by 11:30. I can’t even dope myself up with coffee any more... causes prostate problems.

The arthritis is getting into my hands, forcing me to change the way I play certain chords on guitar and piano.

The worst part is that I look at those young girls, and I don’t even go after them. To quote, I think, Bob Seeger: "Wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then." I wish that I was still dumb enough to not know or care that most of those pretty young things are worthless pains in the ass. Twenty years ago, I wouldn’t have given a shit as long as the pussy looked good.

And, the weight of the deaths of so many friends and loved ones begins to grind. Although I am gifted with the ability to make new friends, the losses really have worn me down. Dana, my lifelong friend from high school, is gone. I miss him keenly, even though I only saw him a few times a year. Even guys who seemed like a pain in the ass, like Will who maintained my house... I miss the bantering and arguing with him. Once a year, his pot crop came in and he showed up with a handful of flowers that we ceremoniously smoked. I don’t even smoke pot any more!

The worst is living without Myrna. That is never ending pain. I’ve tried to turn the corner, to be grateful to God that He gave her to me, but it is a struggle not to fall into bitterness because He took her from me.

The young bucks want me gone, so that they can have my stuff. If we lived in the animal kingdom, they’d ambush me behind a tree and bite my throat out. And, I was just like them when I was younger, so I don’t have any right to bitch or whine!

PR Ploys… How to Generate Outrage

I am shocked, indeed, to discover that Jackie, over at Red State Update, was also victimized in a photo shoot. Behold, the offending shot:

The Miley Cyrus scandal is a bit of PR genius. Publish offensive pictures of a 15 year old girl, then announce that you are “embarrassed” by the pictures. This gambit is so damned cynical and manipulative… well, you’ve got to take your hat off to whoever thunk it up.

I’ve become a devoted fan of the boys over at Red State Update. They provide just the sort of commentary you’d expect on the great Miley Cyrus debate:

And, Jackie... no offense intended, but you might consider investing in the Mangroomer.

You Can't Spend... Livin the Blues in Oradell, NJ!

Hap Moore, the lead guitar player of Livin the Blues, forwarded this YouTube video from our gig at Cool Beans in Oradell, New Jersey.

Corner Cupboard… Woodstock’s Hippie Deli

A few bits of good old boy Woodstock remain. One of them is the Corner Cupboard. This deli on Tinker Street has not succumbed to the gentrification and yuppification that has buried most of old Woodstock.

We are really at the end of one segment of Tinker Street. We started our walk at the west end of the south side of the street, at Joshua’s. We’ve been walking east. The Corner Cupboard sits at the intersection of Tinker Street and Rock City Road.

The Corner Cupboard serves big food at cheap prices. Street people (a/k/a “hippies”) prefer this place. Sandwiches are huge. Décor is non-existent. Snacks and packaged foods predominate. Take-out is the norm.

This shop faces the Village Green, so you can sit on stools at the windows and keep track of all the action. Our teenagers, who hang out eternally on the Green, can be viewed in their native state. Of course, a few of our odder characterers, like Teepee Bob and Jogger John also spend many hours sitting on the bench.

The “Hippies Always Welcome” sign in the window has been a staple of Woodstock shops for as long as I can remember. In fact, the Corner Cupboard is also a staple of Woodstock. Although it has changed hands a couple of times, and even been empty occasionally, the shop always is resurrected as a sandwich and deli dive.

The Corner Cupboard is also the place to grab a last second snack if you are about to board the Trailways bus to New York City.

Hippies still live in Woodstock. The Karaoke Queen and I were walking around Cooper Lake last weekend and she noted that there were houses high atop the mountains in the distance.

“Yes,” I answered. “I’ve climbed every one of those mountains. There are paths that go up to the top of every one, and you’ll find campgrounds and remnants of campfires at the summits. You’d be surprised but some of the wildest hippies live in tents on top of the mountains during the good weather months. They come down into town, mow a lawn or two for money, eat and head back into the hills.”

A certain type of street person (a/k/a “hippie”) can be seen on the streets of Berkeley, San Francisco, Boulder, Ann Arbor, the East Village or Woodstock. More than likely, you will see them from time to time in the Corner Cupboard.

Prayers for My Daughter

My daughter, Sara, underwent laparoscopic gall bladder surgery on Monday.

This morning, two days after her surgery, she trooped off to work at a new job. She’s a special education teacher.

I’m so proud of her. She’s a tough kid, having survived the death of her mother and her stepmother. Sara is so determined to succeed at her profession that she’s suffering through the pain and gritting her teeth.

I’ve been praying for her and praying for her mother and stepmother to intercede on her behalf.

God, help Sara to struggle through this very difficult day.

I borrowed the picture from the Immanuel Lutheran Church of Rosenthal, located in Stony Plain, Alberta Canada. Hope that they don’t mind. Great picture!