Sunday, June 11, 2023

The almost foretold Puerto Vallarta crash

I love to travel, it's excites me to no end being in the unknown, not knowing the language, how to pronounce or what I'm reading. I order meals by what the locals are after and also what I see. I enjoy walking down the alleys or footpaths or maybe somewhere up in the jungle making my own way outta concrete opt-in to natural?
I like to plan a bit more now traveling around with my son, before it was not knowing and flowing with the feel or sense of what's beyond. Being careful of my environment is being responsible now. Deep into this pandemic  although I have been vaxed, my 15yr old son has got his first shot a couple weeks ago. When we left California 8 months ago there were none available for him. , and the death toll has passed of 700,000 Americans. Data showing declines are "very reassuring,” and of course there is no place on Earth that has not been tagged everywhere every place has the virus.
Now here on the (fun side of the border) for a bit ~ return for 2nd and retreat back to .......,?

Traveling from Bali up into Istanbul then to Los Angeles and finally Puerto Vallarta has my whole arm taking new shape and color. Within two weeks I'm pumping myself full of antibiotics and relaxing I can't even go outside in the heat and function well? But the treatment works well enough for me to get back on a plane later.

 Learning about other cultures has made an impact and left an appreciation for others on this rock.  It shaped me while being in the moment even for the millisecond and impacted me till now. I've traveled more than others and not as much as others. I started long ago breaking my back in two into the night hauling gear for bands. I can't seem to dance or play an instrument correctly so I worked for those that I'd never ever ever be play with in my delusional fantasies. I wasn't a highly skilled tech, but sought out by many because of my detail,  integrity, my word and my results. Oh, I also had possible said "party favours" as a side job which of course didn't hurt the cause. So I got to work with the bands that I never be able to play with? It was also an excuse to act wild and perhaps a bit like a badass, I wanted to be just like them?

I understand along with most everyone else not only seeing the worldly /local news but visiting other countries the impact and effect along with the strain on their psyche. Their own personal discovery of how to come to terms on how to deal with this turn of a unfriendly card that has taken not only their houses, jobs, social lives but, loved ones never to return. The rich thrive upon chaos and disorder and profit at everyone's expense. My heart hurts deep and wondering if my presence is welcomed or is my curse sometimes?  Of course this is further than the truth as everyone while in Bali has treated us with dignity and respect almost like VIPs. 

 While Puerto Vallarta here seems like it's a grown up playground here with the discos the bars the selling of just about every drug illegal in America down here they will walk right up to you? But this is a city that grew up quickly and rapidly to accommodate the money coming in. But just as quickly you can be in a beautiful jungles, beautiful mountains, streams, oasis paradises away from the city but I haven't seem to have made my way since my arm got infected and I've been laid down for last couple weeks.
The making of the movie was the event the captured the attention of the world and turned Vallarta into the "in" place to be at that moment. In making of the movie "night of the iguana" just the cast would have been enough to attract the attention of reports, but the inclusion of Elizabeth Taylor in the Vallarta scene, but not in the movie was added bonus for the media. With the widely publicized romance between Liz and Richard and that it started during the filming of "Cleopatra"brought Ms Taylor to Vallarta just to be close to Burton. She bought Casa Kimberly from the Wilson's in Gringo Gulch and settled there~ later Burton bought the property across the street and connected both houses with the famous bridge over Zeragoza Street.
I'm thinking free publicity was not the only directed benefit Vallarta received it during the filming. Local people were employed for the construction of the set, grocery stores increased their sales as they were many extra miles to feed, small boat owners made money transporting materials and food supplies and the few local bars failed to capacity whenever one of the actors came in for a drink.

Soon after, hotels and restaurants begin to spring up everywhere. And now, nearly 40 years later, Puerto Vallarta has grown to the current population of more than 300,000 people. One of the reasons that Puerto Vallarta is fast becoming one of the world's most popular travel destinations is because it offers a new blend of traditional Old Mexico charm mixed with the modern amenities of the cosmopolitan setting. The sound of church bells, roosters crying and the clatter of donkeys hooves on the cobblestones continues to be an everyday occurrence just as it was 150 years ago.

Vallarta has an impressive array of live music bars and clubs open to the wee hours of the morning, let me attest to that that I personally witnessed even up on the hill it going until far more than 5:00 in the morning? Down here we have the restaurant row, the malecon area and you can find nightlife for every taste and age it seems like club rocks he plays live blues and reggae and next door is the American legion with live rock and roll. The Mariachi loco plays arousing live and Mariachi and ranchero bands. Rounding out the options are the El torito sports bar, Amsterdam corner bar (ain't no coffee shops but I bet they got powder?) The Caribana Tropical Salsa club and Señor frogs is another place to party hardy ......oh they got disco at Christine's or the Cactus?

The sunsets here have me hypnotized, it's a kaleidoscope of colors similar to a Peter Max experience and I have to wonder did someone slip something into my drink or if my acid just kicked in 40 years later at the right time? The clouds are very different on the equator and we are parallel to Hawaii as well. I lived in Hawaii for a stint and loved it but I'd never been to Puerto Vallarta, I've been to other points in Mexico but for some reason never here. Within the architecture of the country with diverse personalities in each town and their food and their culture of that place is incredible to say the least?

Many think or dream wish and desire to travel but cannot for various reasons. When I'm writing about this I'm doing it mostly for myself or possibly for my son that will read this later in years. Somehow I don't think he has a clue just how magical this moment is with traveling without the hordes of people and the luxury he's in? This is not to brag, this is not too stroke my own ego, this is not to show people what their lives are not and what mine is~ there is no point to that absolutely! Mine is just a lifestyle choice and my son and I  through years of discussions have agreed upon.

My path is always been a roller coaster up and down with peaks and valleys the cast shadows or get burned, right now this time in my life is very good and I'm embracing it for all it's worth. I'm in some awe~ inspiring next level places and rarely are to the same.  It's not the things,  it's the experiences, the memories, the moments? I'm wanting to collect memories more than anything else because I know I'm in my third quarter and the gate is closer than it was ever before?

 I often agitate others that travel with me because I like to take photographs, I love to engage in conversation, to enroll and be enrolled, to experience. I don't want to take snapshots in famous landmarks and loathe tourist traps, I want to go down the alleys. Because the more planning the list of unexpected moments continue to decline of which memories are made of, timing will never be "just right," and now is as good a time as any to get to work on chasing your dreams. When you can break free away from the "chains of normal" that tie you down, then you can get back to being selfish and taking care of your needs and wants. And I can't always make everyone happy but I can do what I feel is correct to make the most out of it for my son and I even if it does upset other people.

Do I always make the right choices? Hell no, does anyone else actually do that with precision and synchronicity, perhaps only a few in the world and I'm not one‼️ I'll make my mistakes, I'll fall down, I'll try and stand up better with dignity and learn..... soon I'm bailing ASAP because what I had "invisoned became clear it would never work down here what so f****** ever? But even with the wrong choices I am experiencing, I am out of the four walls and ceilings and not stuck at a desk job, so once again I understand my blessings and I appreciate the experiences given to me. Time is running out 🙄

Wherever I am my views or any complaints of how things should be have no business, the main reason why I traveled is to experience different culture not to bring mine with me and I loathe the transplant expat groups that sit around drink complain about the locals driving or the trash or the smell or the lack of this or the too much of that. What's a transplant?~It's a person who moves to a place, and then they try to make that place just like the place they left. If I had wanted those things I should probably have stayed where I was? But I've made a commitment and staying to the course I shall, what gets me by is what I've taught my son;
 The quality of having strong moral principles; honesty and decency.
It’s not worth it unless it’s done right. Whatever your goal, do it with probity, and by maintaining your integrity.


Part 1 I left my heart in the Philippines


By Patrick Duffey


To say that I left my heart in San Francisco would not be the truth, for when it is time to leave paradise, this is where it will stay. By paradise, I mean the Philippine Islands. This is still the first time I have been to the Philippines. I had thought about this trip since I fell in love with a Filipina more than a dozen years ago. Since then, I have never been the same. I entertain the idea of going on a short vacation with my friends Benjie and Jennifer (I am “Tito” to their three children) to visit Benjie’s mother, “Nanay Picardo,” in Eastern Samar where she lives. This would be a good place to get a new perspective on life and to get ideas for writing some new songs.

In February, I get set to leave. Strangely, work slows down, allowing me this opportunity for some reason unknown. Good friends wish me a good time, envy filling their eyes, but work for Benjie and Jennifer’s company is out of control because of El Nino, and now they will not be able to go. They suggest that I go ahead anyhow.

All right, I can do this. After all I did sail from Hawaii to San Diego on a 30-foot sailboat with one other person. It took 32 days before seeing land. Yes, I reall do love Adventure! My plane route takes me up the coast into Alaska and then over the Bering Sea to Seoul, then finally I arrive in Manila. After clearing customs, I then make my way outside. Someone calls my name and greets me as five guys go for my luggage and boxes. Oh well, so much for my staff(not the adventure I was hoping for.) I then see Nanay’s smile and her arms awaiting a hug. I am introduced to my driver, Noling, as we head toward his car with our troop and my belongings. We pass by these strange vehicles that I am told are called a “jeepney.” They are stretched jeeps opened in the back for entry and have bench seats on both sides. The brighter the colors and chrome, the better. You have to stand out here to be noticed something tells me. These are no less than mobile museums of artwork. Then there are also “pedicabs” motorbikes that can fit two passengers inside and one on the seat behind the driver with room on the top for items. However, I have seen pedicabs with at least seven or eight passengers at once. Or something more simple wuold be the tricycle the driver pedals.

Now we are off, leaving the parking lot and drawing right into a traffic jam of such a proportion that my eyes have never seen. I‘ve now changed my mind on traffic problems in the San Francisco Bay Area. Someone in the jeepney thinks it’s a good idea to do a U-turn and the battle for space begins. Noling honks his horn and just wedges his way in front of another vehicle creating his own passage. Ah, but everyone is doing the same. Drivers are honking their horns (two short beeps), making the left hand turns from the right lanes and vice-versa. The maneuvers are usualy met with one finger salutes and handguns back in the United States. This is insanity at its finest! But there’s a method to this madness and everyone does it and the crazy thing about it is that, somehow, it works!

I am asked if I wish to reside in the same place where my friends stay when they come here to visit at the Shangri-la. I opt for something simple. We go to an apartelle, and upon seeing my room, I wonder if this was a bad choice, but I stay anyhow. I stay there a couple of days and travel around Metro Manila and Makati. The choice of fuel is diesel because it is inexpensive but chokes the air and burns the eyes. Squatters build against the roadways, every alley, polluted stream, and old railway tracks- you get the picture? I think they are good, decent people trying to find a place to exist (similar to a tree growing from a rock that has no soil). It’s very overwhelming; this is nothing less than a reality check.

Everyone stops and looks at me and I only speak enough Tagalog to get me in trouble except for some polite greetings. So I just say hello and a smile comes to their faces. To my amazement, they speak better than some folk I know back in the States. Their hospitality and warmth is the Filipino way-no less.

Night life is quite different as we make our way with ease through the city for the traffic is not as busy. Back in the States I strive to be different and here I do not have any trouble for I am the minority. I’ve now adjusted to my apartelle and the neighborhood, but now it’s time to go to Nanay’s house in Dolores, East Samar. Noling said he would drive there and I learn that it is about 30 hours of straight driving. This, I feel, is a special gift to show me the countryside. Oh, do I love adventure! I came here to relax and let go of time scheduling, and here is my first lesson: The engine on the car breaks down and a new one cannot be driven such a long distance. So we try for an airplane, but there are no seats available for a few days. So at the last minute, we get a cab to downtown Manila to take a bus.

It is February, Friday the 13th. We arrive at the bus terminal to see the back tires of the bus getting fixed and this gives me the chance to make more friends while we wait in the heat of the afternoon sun. There I meet a family, a couple and their five-year-old girl who live in the back of a pickup truck, actually they are part of a lotto house (lottery), sometimes you win sometimes you lose and until they win they are on the streets. They eat when they can earn something and are desperately in need of clothes. They are very poor but at the same time so full of life and it shows in their heart and smiles. There is magic in the eyes of Winnie, the small girl. I buy her an ice cream cone as the parents and I talk about life. I feel full in my heart and I leave them with some U.S. dollars that will go further than the peso. It is time to go and I have promised to write them and I shall. Never will they see such ease as in the United States, where most everything is taken for granted, where people sometimes yell at their microwave to hurry up and cry that life’s just not fair and so hard. I leave and something stirs deep within that I have never known. How is it that total strangers can affect me this way? And why do I have tears running down my cheeks?










Roadwarriors copy written
dustyroadsagain@gmail.com

back in Cebu after 5 years 11//6/2022

I haven't been back here for at least 5 years and I use to come back for about a month and a half every year as I've been doing continuously over the last couple decades period. My son and I have been living in bali for about 2.5 years now  and attempting to learn the Bahasa language. I know tagalog,  dialects of Waray-Waray and of course Cebuano where I am now. What I'm saying this should be relatively easy,  but I am famous for my optimism and suit up for more than my 3-hour tour packing down the remnants of a former life. But my Balinese seems to be prevalent too many times and they have no idea what language I'm speaking? That seems to be a bit awkward❓

 Speaking of "awkward", I have a dinner business   at a Japanese restaurant that only had tuna, sitting with my ex partner and it's not hugging, kisses and reminiscing as I listen to the lies and the sham of excuses which are blatantly obvious.  I'm somewhat aware and have been for years that the money has been going into his pockets and the company was strongly  hemorrhaging, contemplating suicide so I just stopped it last year and turned off the tap of money. Be it may I'm here for the last of my items and I'll deal with that later with lawyers, possibly the only way to redeem myself. 
Undoubtedly more trusting, younger and naive then I am now I take my share of responsibility but not total . Wanting to end this misery~ my shame is absolute in history with this. Be it as it may I'm confident I'm not the only one that ever made a mistake  lesson learned ~and onward we go

The prices have dramatically increased here in the philippines unlike Bali which had its pandemic price &  local price~ in other words extremely incredibly affordable still if one knows where the look. Philippines didn't seem to learn the lesson again and didn't bring tourism a healthy serving, this of course hurts the locals and businesses well. 

I enjoy the food here and in Cebu it is worldly known for its exceptional  roasted pig " Lechon Baboy" slowly over fire marinated usually in 7up to give it that crackling skin. I love eating this, not that I'm going to marry or that I have a tattoo? There is all kinds of other gastronomy but I may not have time to visit? 

I need a little bit of tragedy perhaps to remind me of the beauty, the sweet and sour of life. I am grateful for just about everything and to have my beautiful life~  so whereas I attempt not to complain and breakout that perpetual small violin I give my thanks to my life as I have so much more then I need &  I need no blessings, and I'm counting mine. My son- my girlfriend and I are healthy. .. 
And so there it is just want to shower you with my travel thoughts

I left my heart in the Philippines part 2 of OMG~WHO KNOWS series

 Part 2: What a long strange trip it’s been

Finally I am on the bus and I find myself only thinking of the small girl that I became so attached to within such a short time. First, I am given the front seat where I can take pictures and video, then they give to me a seat with a better view that only special people tend to get, that folds down onto the stairs.
Through more barrios we travel until we are out of the town, we come into some farmlands and small villages along the way. There are more coconut trees now, with outcrops of communities along beautiful rivers.
The road narrows and winds through steep terrain as the shanties seem to even come closer to the road where families sell citrus that looks like limes. Roads that seem to the eye only to be wide enough for small cars to travel safely, carry large vehicles such as this bus and others. Oncoming vehicles come a fraction of a inch of each other traveling at high speeds, the driver of our bus sometimes drove at 120 kilometers per hour. I see people, even children sometimes by themselves walking on the roadway so close that I swear I can hear their heartbeat. But the driver has warned them of his approach and they know what’s going on anyhow, for this is the law of the jungle where only the fittest can survive.
I think there is an unwritten law saying that you can’t pass unless it is a blind curve with people there, and there must also be a much larger vehicle coming straight at you. My eyes have never beheld such intense beauty and at the same time I feel I want to know the moment and place where I possibly might die. There is no amusement park with their roller coasters or other fright rides that I can compare to this.
I pay no attention to the video movie that I can’t understand anyhow, I am wired directly to the window in my shotgun seat. I wonder if the others know how outrageously gorgeous this is, or are they just used to this because they don’t have anything else to compare it to. I must look like a child at his first candy store spree.
I am extremely exhausted but my eyes cannot close because for every corner or turn, just as I think I’ve seen it all and nothing can come close to the view prior, something comes up full of splendor to take me over the edge, one step closer to heaven. On the bus I have met new friends (kaibigan) that point toward something I’d appreciate, and after 18 hours in my seat glued to the window they suggest it would be wise for me to rest and maybe get some sleep for they will awaken me to anything of interest.
On this journey we have stopped three or four times for roadside eateries and restroom breaks, there are few gas stations out here. There is a charge for everything. Sometimes there is no plumbing and no toilet paper stocked, flushing is done with a bucket of water that someone has to carry from the outside. The cost for this is one pesos. 
I finally give in to the fatigue and get about an hour of rest, when one of my “kaibigan” awakens me. The bus has stopped and I wonder what is wrong. There is a full moon outside as he brings me up to the front and shows me a volcano of noticeable size. We are half there at Mayon and this would be a lovely site in the daytime. Once again I am taken aback by their kindness for I understand that they did this for me even though I could not film it. Yes, I’m now awake once again, climbing past the volcano high into the hills and the roadway is still much alive with the lanterns burning in the store huts hoping anyone might stop.
At around 3 a.m. we arrive at the end of the road and must now take a ferry across to Samar, the third largest of the Philippine islands. Close to 20 buses and other trucks drive into the nose of this ship. Once again there is a video playing onboard and once again I do not wish to sit and view it. I go to the upper deck and I’m greeted by the captain and his apprentice. Off the side of the ship are three outriggers with people yelling up to the American, but I do not yet understand Tagalog. Others are tossing pesos to them from the ship, three levels high. They jump from the outriggers into the water, dimly lit from the ships lights.
To get some money, they risk their life diving for the pesos before it disappears into the dark bottom of the sea. I am up on the top of the deck for this four-hour ride across strangely calm waters with the moon reflected on it. The air is warm like a tropical dream. Dawn breaks and I am able to make out what once were distant shadows. They are scattered islands filled with coconut trees everywhere. There are deep valleys and unspoiled beachesthat can now be seen through my zoom lens. 
We finally make our journey back to land as we arrive in Northern Samar. It is a quaint fishing village, and I watch the bus being unloaded from inside to the dock. We now must drive from the north of the island across to the south, then eastward. That will take about six hours. I’m not surprised that another video is put into the V.C.R. and the television comes alive with video karaoke. Someone takes the microphone and sings the words an “ABBA” time. They want me to sing and politely I refuse until a Beetles song plays and I try to belt out some good old American singing. Well, I’ve done my best, embarrassing as it is. I’d like to see this happen back in the States on a Greyhound. Since I have been here almost everyone I see is having fun in whatever way they can find it.

Here we are; this is my stop. I get off and transfer to a jeepney for only a few more miles where for the next month and a half Eastern Samar will be my home with my Nanay and the rest if the family whom I have not yet met. 

PART 8


Finding a place to call home Part 8 By Patrick Duffey

Japitan Samar – I’m finally where I have for so long dreamt of being once again. When I have trouble sleeping, I need only to put myself at easy by dreaming of my beach where I am to build my house here. This was a gift giving to me years ago, not purchased. I will start off small with other additions to follow later. The only neighbor that I have along this picture postcard beach is the 114th battalion and about one half mile away in Japitan, the former Congress member Lucero of Northern Samar. He has a stately mansion with a private helicopter and of course the landing pad.

The day after I arrived here I took a jeepney to Broongan with Nanny and Boyting to do some errands around town. I remember these seats being harder than concrete and being squashed into this container that was only accessible from the rear, sometimes for a foreigner the height is a factor. Heading back home, I hung onto the ladder bar on the back step. My back ached for being tall in my head always hit the roof on every pothole the driver were sure to find. However, being there gave me much better view. With the windy my face I felt strangely like Leonardo DiCaprio at the bow proclaiming “I am king of the world.” Guess you had to be there – oh well.

Although it was raining lightly, I still stayed out hanging onto the bar because inside was packed. The jeepney stops along the muddy road to let off passengers. I took a break to stretch as three young ladies exit the back. I extended to a helping hand as any gentleman would and instead of giving me her hand, I am given a P3 for the fair. I think she was confusing me as the conductor.

The outside world has already had its influence on people and the ways here in the Philippines. Boyting who sat in the front with the driver was instructed to tie and old green army belt around his waist as a substitute for a seatbelt. Helmets for now required for the motorcycles now as well, anywhere within the city boundaries. My friend Ray told me about this just before I left San Francisco, truthfully I thought he was joking.

With four days before Christmas, nightfall brought out groups of small and old alike into the street. There were dancing and singing with the complement of a guitar to rehearse for the Christmas Fiesta. Every house serenaded with Christmas carols until midnight. In return for the beautiful singing, we gave them P15 – P20 and some candy. Homemade cannons made from thick bamboo echo around town like a war zone. My thoughts are that it was to chase the evil spirits away from the New Year.

I have fallen ill, I thought I was the victim from the sweet water well, it turns out the offering given to me of a caribou foot was the culprit. The water or the food have never affected me before, however I am so ill I see the town doctor. The doctor prescribed medicine to me, lugaw and hot tea for my diet to flush me. I slept on an off for 2 ½ days in a dream within a dream.

While I slept resting, I decided on what type of house to build on beach. I wanted something comfortable, but I was only here for three or four months out of each year so didn’t want something to big and snobby, ya know? Tony, whom professes himself as a local contractor, gives me plenty of time to think about it. Although I have been in construction for 15 years, things are done differently around here with the locals. He is an educated man and very friendly, but definitely not a contractor!

Christmas morning found me back to the hospital instead of at church for the 3:30 a.m. mass, not for me but for Nanny’s mother- Tita Rose. Old and frail, she lost her balance and fell to the floor hitting her head. Seven stitches later she was sent home, and I was able to sleep for a couple hours. Eventually Tita and I were able to attend the last evening mass. The church in Dolores is good-sized and quite magnificent inside although it could desperately use some touch ups.

Outside the church, I heard the rain from faraway come closer. After the rain stopped, the sun started to set and the sky glowed pink and orange. It was hard to keep my mind focused on mass while watching the colors change. Out of the corner of my wandering eye, a small bird flew into the building with others following randomly behind. They flew wildly around past statues darting about with accuracy and around the priest celebrating the mass before settling in. This site was certainly inspiring.

My two balikbayan boxes finally made it here. I had only two boxes this time for the less fortunate. Once opened most everything seemed to magically disappear. What may have been thrown away in United States was like gold here. Some were even considered life-saving. A lot of people thought that I’m very rich, that was the furthest from the truth.

This was my first Christmas I’ve spent here. And although Christmas was somewhat bleak because of the economy, smiles still adorn their faces. I see Christmas in the United States all adorn with expesive lights, and they lock themselfs in tight! Well, that's there. And for my Christmas gift, Tony and his friend have started on my octagon- shaped house, a simple one bedroom palace on the beach. Other editions will be built eventually. Made of concrete flooring with two risers of hollow block. Coconut lumber with concrete and bamboo walls along with woven cogon grass that makes the roof swell when it rains. My humble abode is starting to take shape.

Soon I will be able to look out my living window where I write. Out into the ocean are my favorite islands where I spent my time diving to visit the beautiful coral reefs. Ever since I can remember I’ve always attempt of a house on the beach. My plans before coming to the Philippines were to build one in Rosita Beach, Baja Mexico. I had a place all picked out and reserved for me……but the Philippines is where my heart belongs.

ROADWARRIORS COPYWRITTEN
dustyroadsagain@gmail.com

Part 19