Grandpa Goes to the Philippines

In July of 2019 I went with my brother Chris to the Philippines.  It was an amazing and unusual Journey. I’m not going to hold back on what happened just because it might offend someone.  Some weird stuff happened over there.  The profanity has been kept to a minimum and is rather soft so no “F” bombs.  If you have problems with reality pissing you off then I recommend you turn back now and STOP READING!  Another thing, this isn’t for a Pulitzer Prize, there are going to be grammatical errors and I don’t care.

On July 3 my mind was in the proximity of whether my first grandchild would be born before I left for the Philippines.  My daughter was due any day and carrying Timothy Lewis.  Timothy would not go along with our program of being born before my departure, not even born and already a rebellious young man.  I had bought tickets for the Philippines and the return trip home over a year ago so there was no going back on this happening.

My brother, Chris owns land on Mindanao, a good-sized island in the Philippines.  Chris is married to a Filipino woman named Nelia who has family on Mindanao and speaks the language and it’s these qualities that makes her life more important to me than my brother’s.  Hopefully if needed she can tell the local populous, “Do not kill my brother-in-law, he has worth.”

Now when my brother asked me if I wanted to go to the Philippines with him, I simply said, “Hell yeah! Let’s do this!”  My brother also asked me what do I expect on this trip, to which I responded, “The lowest forms of accommodations on this planet.”  My brother said, “Good.”   I purchased my plane tickets and knew nothing about where I was going.

Please folks, RESEARCH!

As it turns out Mindanao is known for Martial Law, Isis Attacks, rebel attacks, the largest salt water crocodiles and wall to wall cobras.  It also has outbreaks of Malaria and Dengue Fever.  You will not find this trip on a Disney Cruise.

Now some needed information, I am dating my Girlfriend/Ex-Wife/Mother of my children so I shall refer to her as GEM.  Upon hearing of the trip to the Philippines my GEM said, “Do not come home with a Filipino wife.  I tried to explain that there were few other options than a Filipino and that was when she expanded that comment to, “Don’t come home with a wife, BITCH!”  Which I fully understood and would adhere too.

I was told by another family member, “Do not get involved in sex trafficking.” 

For some reason I thought this was just understood as a NO-NO but ok, I agreed.

Then I was told by yet another, “Dad whatever you do, wear a condom or make sure that they wear a condom.”

So much for, “Safe journey and bring me home a hat.”

I would like the reader to know that Timothy’s Grandpa does not promote or indulge in sex trafficking, go wife hunting in foreign lands or would participate in activities that would require condoms.  It would make Timothy’s Grandpa wonder what these people with all this advice do when they are on vacation.

The original plan was to stay in the jungle for a month so I started to purchase jungle survival gear almost immediately after buying my plane tickets.  This was a lot of fun and I looked forward to the weekly packages being delivered.

The first thing I did was go out and purchase an “Old Man Vest”.  In my case this is a green vest with lots of pockets.  I believe that survival is based upon pocket space more than anything else.  I also believe in the Delta Force Doctrine of Primary, Secondary, Contingency and Emergency Plans. 

For example:  when it comes to, Water I have my primary filter, my secondary filter, my water tablets and I’m prepared to boil every drop of water before I drink it.

I bought a bunch of mosquito netting, head lamps, flashlight, two compasses, machete, primary knife, secondary knife, contingency knife and Leatherman tool.  Gorilla tape, 5/50 cord, chem lights, baby wipes, toilet paper, first aid kit, anti-biotics, ibuprofen, binoculars and some other miscellaneous items.

When it came to clothing, I packed light.  A couple pairs of gloves, two pairs of long pants, two pairs of utility shorts, two pairs of workout shorts and then a bunch of t-shirts.

As of the day before departure I weighed in at 210 lbs.  I felt with walking, eating jungle fruit and dysentery I could get back to the same weight I was when I was 12 years old.

Of all the equipment I have gathered I still believe nothing is more important than the “Man Vest”.  Just before I left, I saw an old man in Kroger wearing a vest.  I had this urge to go over and hug him and say, “Shhhhh, I know, you don’t have to say a thing.  I know.”

July 4- Dressed in a T-shirt with Muppets on it, cargo shorts with more pockets, my grandpa vest and cobra-stomping boots I am ready to depart to Chicago and then to Tokyo before we land in Manilla.

I have only brought two types of footwear, 1) Reebok Rambo II, Cobra Stomping Jungle Boots and Jesus Sandals.

I’m at the airport getting ready to fly out. My brother, his wife and her teenage son are all on board for the trip.  We land safely in Chicago. 

Now I’m heading to Tokyo, I’m in my seat between my two Japanese passengers and I have to fart like no one’s business.   A big part of me just wants to let these poo molecules fly especially since the Japanese are used to us crapping on them anyway.  Plus, it’s the 4th of July so “Merica!!”  Being a good representative of America, I did manage to hold it in for the duration.

I was trying not to drink alcohol as I was worried about dehydration but when offered free wine on the plane, I did accept.  Watching as many long movies as I could, playing chess, reading and writing my notes, consumed the fourteen-hour flight.  By the way, Alita Battle Angel wasn’t a bad movie. 

After a wonderful lunch in Japan, we made it to Manila and were taken to the hotel by a relative of Nelia.  I’ve got to give it up to Nelia as far as her having connections everywhere we go.  It didn’t matter where we were in this country, Nelia had a friend or family member ready to take care of us.

The hotel was Interesting but I believe in being positive with my perception.  Some would call the hotel a piss smelling, shithole with cockroaches and wild, rabid dogs.  I called it traditional and rustic with a petting zoo.

We got to spend a couple days in Manila, seeing the sites, going to a museum, visiting a shrine to Confucius and eating the local cuisine which was very enjoyable.  I learned that giving a kid 100 pesos is enough to start a riot and should be done discretely.   

Security officers are everywhere and in every store.  Most of the time they had empty holsters because they have to purchase their own weapons and can’t afford it.  The people seemed very nice but didn’t hold back when it came to begging.  I kept my money around my neck in a pouch along with my passport, tucked into my shirt.

July 7 we are leaving Manila to head to Mindanao and received some exciting news when we arrived at the airport.  Our 6:55 am flight left at 4:50 am, yeah!  Why the hell not!  On top of that Nelia’s son tried to smuggle his lucky bullet, that’s right “bullet” through security.  Now I was never a bright kid.  I did more stupid crap than most but Damn!  Nelia handled everything, after stopping her son from going to rape prison she got us on another flight that left in less than an hour.  I guess it’s good that Max didn’t bring his “unlucky” bullet.

The flight into Mindanao was beautiful.  The coastline is breathtaking.  We were greeted by Nelia’s uncle, Nelia’s nephew, Kerston, and a friend of Kerston.  Kerston and his friend are both 17-year-old, skinny, good looking Filipino lads.  The second Kerston saw Chris he exclaimed, “Chris, you’re not fat anymore!”  I love people that don’t sugar coat anything.  We hopped in the back of the truck and headed out.  After several hours we arrived in Agusan to the home of Johnny and Gemma.  I had been expecting to be camping in the jungle for the duration but we were immediately told that the rebels would kill us or the army would kill us or ISIS would kill us or the rebels would hold us hostage and the army would detain us or some variation thereof.   Ok, New Plan! 

We ended up staying with Nelia’s sister Gemma and her husband Johnny.  Johnny and Gemma were so kind as to put us up for the duration of our stay.  Nelia had actually purchased their home and gave it to them years ago.  Nelia and my brother would do several kind acts not just for Johnny and Gemma but also for the entire village whenever they could.   It was amazing how many people in the village were still wearing T-shirts my brother had given them four years ago. 

The house is a two bedroom, small by American standards but upper class by Filipino standards.  The two bedrooms have AC which I believed saved my life.  One squatty-potty with a large trash barrel filled with well water and a scooper for showers.  The kitchen is spacious and has a huge, old-style stove.  Johnny and Gemma, along with their fourteen-year-old daughter slept in the kitchen so we could get the rooms with the AC.  Some people might ask how I could sleep knowing a teenage girl was sleeping in the kitchen while I was in her bedroom.  I’m not going to lie some nights it was tough, especially when that AC was hitting me in the face but I would just put on another blanket and soldier on remembering how many times my folks made us sleep on the floor when company was over.

My first day in Mindanao I was immediately taken over by the simplicity and the beauty of it all.  The kids played outside like kids should.  The family dog named “Kid” which made me want to recite Kid Rock songs is a white, tough looking average sized dog that has maximum loyalty and obedience when it comes to the family.

There was a vast area of tropical trees and bushes right behind the group of houses we staying at.  Goats wandered around the yard and there were chicken coops and rooster cages at random locations.  Johnny raised roosters for cock fighting, a Mindanao tradition.

A lot of the houses looked like the forts my brother and I used to make out of whatever we could find when we were ten years of age.

 We’ve been told that we can go up to the mountain during the day but that it would be dangerous to be there at night.  We grabbed our packs, hailed a motor vehicle thingy and headed to the mountain.  The tri-wheeled, motor thingy dropped us off at the foot of the mountain and we started our assent.  1980s music could be heard coming from the karaoke machines inside the homes.  For the entire duration of the trip, people would stare at us.  Most of them smiled and said, “Good Morning.”  Some would give us the hard stare but I would still smile and nod to them.  I wondered how I would feel if a well-fed foreigner who had more money in his back pocket then I would see in four months came walking past my house that didn’t even have electricity. 

The river that runs down the side of the mountain is being tore up for gold flakes.  Twenty or so people, to include kids some under the age of ten, seem to be working nonstop to fill sand bags which are then passed to a person on a motor bike along with their security person and taken off the mountain.

My brother’s land was amazing.  The amount of food growing up there was unbelievable.  Johnny would just reach down and pull out a root and start eating.  Coconut trees all over the place with climbing notches cut into them.  My brother taught me how to get a coconut off the tree in two easy steps:  Step 1- reach into your wallet and pull out two dollars.  Step 2- hand that two dollars to a local kid who will then climb that tree like it’s nothing, ignoring the bee stings and retrieving the best coconut so the fat American can eat some more.

I took pictures of the giant snails that were all over the mountain.  I’d never seen anything like them and they were always in a group like they had Snail Tinder or something like that.

Things were huge and poisnous!

We saw our first cobra as we were leaving the mountain.  It went left and I went right.  I felt Tarzan couldn’t have handled that situation any better.  I learned fast that there are two basic rules in the Philippines.  Number One- pay attention and Number Two- don’t be a little puss about things.

After a couple days of living with Johnny and Gemma I felt like I was getting the hang of the Philippines.  Johnny would greet us every morning with a smile but also with sadness in his eyes because he alone had the responsibility of keeping the dumbest white people on the island alive for a whole month.  Gemma fed us constantly and the food was amazing.  She made me wonder if I was going to lose any weight during this trip.  I fell in love with “Stinky Fish” which was just as advertised but I loved it and would scarf it down whenever it was prepared.

Gemma is a very upbeat person with a warm smile.  She would often yell at Johnny to go out and get something and to “take the white devils with you!”  This meant that Johnny, my brother and I would be jumping on the motorcycle and heading for San Francisco which is the closest city.  We would visit the mall on several occasions during this trip which was like the largest dollar store I’d ever seen.  On our first trip there I bought boxing, focus mitts and Kali fighting sticks so I could get some training in during our stay.  We carried knives with us constantly but had to leave them on the motorcycle to go into stores that had security.  When we made it back to the house, the local kids lined up to do some boxing drills, it was wonderful.

On July 9 we went small island jumping.  The water was so clear which made it easy to see the very large sea snake in the shallow water.  What a monster! We landed on several small islands and I got to fire up my new Go-Pro camera as we went into several small caves and explored the shore, looking for cool shells.  The saddest thing about the Philippines is that they have no waste management.  There is trash everywhere so at a distance you see beautiful islands but up close they are covered in trash.

I loved watching the people.  They appreciate everything.  The Filipinos will wear the same shirt for a week, they reach into the center of a bowl of rice meant for everyone with their bare, dirty hands, they never sweat, they work hard, they put an entire family on a motorcycle with the mom holding a baby and they have the most beautiful singing voices.  I tried to sing along but I’ve been told that my singing reminds people of the sounds that harp seals make when they get clubbed to death in the Arctic.

Now I was told by many people in America that the Filipinos are very attractive.  I have to say in Mindanao that’s not so much.  When it comes to attractive people, Mindanao is kind of like the Michigan of the Philippines so attractive people are kind of far and in between.

One evening I was asked by Gemma if I wanted to meet one of her neighbors.  I said that I would be delighted.  It didn’t click with me at that moment what that truly meant.  I was introduced to Dana, a very attractive, twenty-five-year-old young lady who let me know right away that she was available for marriage.  I let Dana know that I was too old and very unavailable for such a relationship having been told specifically not to come home with a wife.  Dana and I ended up talking for a while and then parted ways.  The next day I was informed by Gemma that Dana told her that I was very polite, did not try to take advantage of her and treated her like a daughter.  That was one of the best compliments I have ever received and then my brother thanked for not banging the villagers.

GEM had got me a little pull cart that really came in handy during the trip.  Chris and I would often walk a mile to this little shop like two homeless Americans to get water and Red Horse Beer.  Every time we went there, we would buy the local kids some ice cream, pay for the items of anyone who was at the shop and then pass out beer to work crews on our way back.  The people appreciated or generosity, it made us feel good, the kids thought that white alcoholics were the best people in the world and most important we let the villagers know that as long as we were alive, we would buy them stuff but once we were dead then no more stuff.  So, it was a nice little life insurance policy that benefits everyone.

Red Horse Beer became our drink of choice.  I didn’t get drunk while in the Philippines because I was too afraid to let my guard down.  I did martial arts every day, making sure people saw me train to give that impression that we were the wrong people to mess with.  Chris and I were always on red alert when it came to situational awareness and would often call out suspicious events or people that we thought were relevant.  Chris and I had a code phrase.  If the other says, “we need to get this coffee to go.”  That means beat the shit of the person next to you and draw a blade because it’s on.  On top of that we were often given situation reports about the military and the rebels in the area letting us know where we could go and where was a bad idea to go.

July 11, my brother bought some transformers (electrical converters not Optimus Prime) so the family could watch some movies.  Our first movie was True Lies with Arnold Schwarzenegger.  Even though the family had access to new movies, 1980s classics were played the most.

My only form of communication was through Facebook at San Francisco’s computer facility which reminded me of the computer room at my high school in 1985.  My phone would not work at all in Mindanao which didn’t bother me at all except when I would want to know the status of my grandson and daughter.

San Francisco had a money exchange with a decent rate and young female employees that always proposed marriage to my brother and I.  There is a McDonalds that we never went to and a Jollie-Bee chicken fast food restaurant.  Whenever someone mentioned Jollie-Bee they would yell it out as Jollie-Beeeeee!!!!

There is a huge, open market with fresh fruit, vegetables, fresh fish, squid, etc….  I would go there often for mangos, fish and shrimp.  Cold water could be purchased almost anywhere in San Francisco.  The smaller shops would often have rat feces on the shelves which made me not want to buy new dishes or glasses from them.  I went to a barber shop there, twice during our trip.  A haircut, shave and back rub would cost about six American dollars with the tip.  At one point, the barber was cutting my nose hair with a huge pair of shears.  If I could speak his language, I would have let him know that I would pay an additional 500 pesos if he wouldn’t shove those freaken things into my brain.  Over all, San Francisco looked run down and dirty but I loved being there.

July 12, we went to a hot spring warmed by a local volcano.  The dirty water was surrounded by an ugly wall of concrete and filled with ugly but very nice people.  The water looked dirty to me and I wasn’t too thrilled to get in.  Nelia loved lounging in the hot water for a while and I have to admit it did feel great.

We spent a large portion of the day cleaning the trash out of the yard.  We used rakes because you don’t pick up anything in the Philippines with your hands.  My brother moved some trash and uncovered a cobra that started hissing at him immediately.  We told Johnny about the cobra and he looked at us like we had just told him we found milk in the fridge.  Johnny said, “You’re in the Philippines so you’re going to see snakes.”

We said, “Well of course but the kids play over there.”

Johnny replied, “Yes, because the kids live in the Philippines too.”

I calmly asked, “Johnny, what does the word ‘Cobra’ mean in your language?  Does it mean opossum?  Because in our language it means one of the deadliest creatures in the world which you have in that damn bush!”

Johnny basically told me not to be a bitch about it and then went on his way.

I made it to San Francisco and found out that Timothy had been born on July 10, healthy, happy and momma was doing well.  With that major relief I was much calmer for the duration.

We bought a live pig so that at the end of the week we could have a pig roast on the beach.  I looked the pig right in the eyes and told him he had four days to learn how to herd sheep or find a spider with awesome grammar because the alarm on his life clock was about to go off.

The weather has been surprisingly cool.  The mosquitos bite in the morning and again in the evening but unlike Indiana where a mosquito bite lasts a month, in Mindanao they only last two hours before they disappear.  Now there is a four-hour period from 12 noon to 4 pm that I refer to as the HAB (Hot as Balz).  Some days it was overwhelming for me.  My brother and I were wondering why the Filipinos don’t work in the morning when the temperature is 75-80 degrees.  As it turns out, that is too cold for them.

We’ve been here almost two weeks and I still can’t get over how little these people care about liability or danger.  No railings, no warnings and no traffic laws.  I would love to see their written test for a Filipino driver’s license.  I bet the questions are like:

What does a double yellow line mean?

a)          No passing

b)         Pass with caution

c)          Slow your speed

d)         Not a damn thing like everything else here

People sometimes come to the door selling things like food, jewelry or whatever.  Today I bought some catfish from some folk who came to the house looking to make a buck.  Gemma cooked them up. That night I sat watching a 1980s Jon Claude Van Dam movie with Johnny while we ate the best cat fish I ever had.

I made the acquaintance of a young lad named Jon.  I called him Lil Jon.  Lil Jon and I were conversing about life and the universe on one of my many trips back from the store.  Finally, Lil Jon asked, “Can I have some money because I don’t have any and you seem like you do?”

One American dollar can get someone a cab ride into the city or buy enough rice for a family meal.

“Of course, you can Jon.”, I gave him 100 Pesos, roughly two dollars.

After that transaction Lil Jon or one of his look outs were on my brother or I every time we left the house.

Before I left the US, I had my bank convert US dollars into Philippine Pesos.  In just two days Chase bank converted $1000 US dollars into approximately 20,400 Pesos (I did get a good rate).  The clerk set this up in four large stacks with denominations from 1000 to 5 Peso Bills.  I looked wearily at the bank clerk and said, “Really” and then put the money in a bag like Breaking Bad.

Navigation was easy in Mindanao.  The main road was directly in front of the house.  If you go left, you finally end up at the mountain.  If you go right then you go to the store and if you keep going then you reach San Francisco. No GPS required.

July 13 was all mountain climbing and surgery.  The weather didn’t get hot, thank God but I was still hurting as I headed up the mountain.  We did have the option of getting an inexpensive ride up the mountain on a motor bike but preferred to hike it whenever possible.  I turned the insects biting me into a game I called “Guess what lifelong disease that SOB just gave you”.  Not much of a game but it took my mind off the walk up the mountain.

One of the villagers had an injury to his leg which through my own ignorance I thought he would take some jungle herb and be fine.  My brother asked the man if we could see his injury.  He showed us and behold it was full of puss and looked like an infection would set in soon.  We could tell blood was still circulating and it didn’t smell so we had some time.  Chris did an amazing job of cleaning the puss and clots out of the wound.  I had brought a full first aid kit from home and it came in handy.  Cleaning the wound caused some pain but that didn’t stop his wife from laughing at him, again these people are tough.  Nelia got him some antibiotics and we left a change of bandages with them.  We would return several times and check on him and I’m glad to say his injury looked much better when we finally left Mindanao.  It is highly possible my brother saved that man’s leg and maybe his life.

I had never met a flamboyantly gay five-year-old before arriving in Mindanao but now I can cross that off my list.  This kid, CJ, doesn’t walk, he sachets with a hand on his hip and never wearing pants after school, just underwear.   

The first time I met CJ, he looked at my brother and I and said, “I’m gay.”

I replied, “Well, if you’re not then I think you are well on your way.”

CJ was almost like a tourist attraction.  The kid was so much fun to watch.  CJ was full of life and definitely in his own world.  Gemma took care of CJ just like he was one of her kids.

One day CJ saw me swinging Kali sticks and gave it a try.  I’ve got say that the kid gave it his all.

There is a large gay community throughout the Philippines.  They seem to be well received which is surprising because of the large Catholic population. 

The kids all come home for lunch and nothing beats seeing CJ prancing over to eat.  The parents make sure that their kids look good for school.  Even though they don’t have a lot of money, they do make sure that their kids have what they need for their education.

Most of the kids go out and play games in the yard after school but not CJ.  CJ immediately strips down to his underwear and practices his pole dancing.

July 14 Crocodile Search, Dr Visit and cat rape.  Once again, the weather didn’t get too hot.  We had a nice drizzle of rain while we went down the salt marsh looking for crocks.  Just before we left on this new adventure our guide gave us the rebel report letting us know we were safe here but don’t go over that hill. 

The boat ride was amazing just like so many things here.  I felt like Indiana Jones as we took this slender vessel down the narrow river.  We didn’t see any crocodiles but we had one exciting moment.  Our guide stated that we were at the spot where the largest salt water crocodile was captured and just then we hit a bump.  Upon feeling that bump, Johnny, the never afraid Filipino, leaped out of his ass and damn near pushed me into the water.  I was filming with my GO-PRO and made the comment, “I guess you’re willing to sacrifice one of your white devils to the Crocodile’ God, aren’t you?”

I loved the boat ride down the marsh.  Big beautiful birds and small colorful ones were everywhere.  We saw local people bathing, washing clothes and fishing in the marsh.  Since the people seemed unafraid as they moved freely in the marsh, I got the feeling that they had killed off most of the crocodile population.

We bought some fish from a family whose young kids were half naked and working right beside them, trying to keep the family going.  Seeing kids, elementary school age, working hard to help feed the family was not uncommon, nor was it sad.  These kids were happy even though they didn’t have much because what they did have was priceless. 

After the adventure on the marsh, we went back up the mountain stopping in to check on the leg wound.  It was on this trip up the mountain that I learned that my American humor did not always translate well to the Filipinos.  My brother said that he would like to have some bee hives on the mountain someday.  I, in true form, yelled, “Is that because you like Beeeez Nuts!”  I received numerous stares indicating the lack of understanding when it came to my statement.  So, what did I do, I tried to actually explain the “Deez Nuts” American concept which didn’t seem to help.  I was told by Johnny in broken English, “Peter, you need drink water.  You dehydrated and delusional.”

When we finally made it back to Johnny and Gemma’s we heard a horrible noise that we had heard before but couldn’t figure out its source.  As it turns out, one of the house cats we call Mr. Humpster (name will make sense in a minute) has been sodomizing another male house cat we call Kitty Dufrane (Shawshank Redemption).  Kitty Dufrane quickly learned that the bull queers take by force, it’s all they know and understand.  Mr. Humpster would jump on Dufrane’s back, bite into the back of his neck and hold him down while he did his horrendous act.  The family dog, Kid, does try to stop the kitty sodomizing but is not allowed in the house so it’s kind of out of his jurisdiction.  OHHHH KITTTY!  Get busy living or get busy dying. 

Gemma continues to feed us nonstop.  She made cow’s head soup (exactly what it is) which was one of the best meals I’ve ever had.  Her egg rolls are so good that I had tears rolling down my cheeks as I continued to eat them past the point of being full.

Not to get too graphic but using the crapper is kind of an event in the Philippines.  Every day we had a “To Do List” and a “To Poo List”.  I’m not going to say which was more important but I will say that the muscle definition in my legs was greatly improving because of my visits to the Squatty Potty.

July 15 we are back in San Francisco.  I love the market there.  We get fresh fruit, Gatorade, a bunch of sauces and whatever the family needs.  My brother offered to buy Johnny new speakers but Johnny refused so my brother bought him a new TV and speakers.  I got to catch up with GEM who was doing the grandma thing and doing it well.  Gemma and Nelia went to get Nelia’s birth certificate which turned out to be a simple process based on $.

On July 16 one of the utility poles basically exploded.  It was loud and caught the attention of everyone in the neighborhood.  The power was out and I didn’t expect it to turned on anytime soon.  The biggest problems were that the power outage came right at the climatic ending of “12 Strong” and the AC was out in my room.  Honestly neither of these things bothered me, I had already watched way more movies and spent more time in the AC on this survival trip than I ever dreamed.  To my surprise, the electricity was back on within twenty-four hours.

My daily walks were so much fun.  The kids always ran out to spend time with the “White Devils” and I had really hit it off with family dog giving him scraps whenever I could.  I started to think that the trip is going to be like my military career with a lot of buildup of danger but then nothing would happen.  Also like my military career there were several unplanned opportunities which made this an amazing trip.

I woke up to the pig squealing after a failed escape attempt.  I don’t blame the pig, that life clock was ticking away.  I gave him his morning slop and asked piggy how that sheep herding was going.  His look indicated it was not going well.

I was feeling groggy on this day not only because of piggy but also because the malaria medication we’ve been taking gives me horrible night mares.   So far, I had dreamed that I got bit by a cobra and no one cared, I dreamed my sister soled my house and wouldn’t tell my why, I dreamed I got booed off stage after a bad comedy act, I dreamed that William Defoe saved me from an alligator and I dreamed that we were cooking racoons while they were alive.  By the end of the trip other dreams would be added such as: I dreamed I started shooting up heroin and that I drowned a Chinese police officer in a bathtub.  Sometimes the dreams were so bad that I wondered if it wouldn’t be better to get malaria and quit taking the meds.

I gave Johnny some money to buy a snake so we could eat it.  Chris ended up ordering one too.  It was better for Johnny to buy them because of the instant inflation that would happen when the seller saw that we were American so Johnny could the snakes at ¼ what we could.  Johnny said it would take a week to catch the snakes and that they would cost 2000 pesos ($40). 

I was finishing my pig intestines and rice (not our pig) when my brother and Nelia returned from a trip to the mountain.  My brother told me some interesting news. Chris had been informed by his medical patient that last night the army came into the village, removed one of the villagers that they felt was a rebel sympathizer and shot him in the street.  Well kids, that’s one to grow on so again pay attention.

July 17, I love keeping a record of my trip to the Philippines, it makes me feel like Tom Cruise in like a special needs’ version of the Last Samurai.  Every day the Filipinos spend with us, makes it harder for them to believe that America is a super power.  The people just become more interesting every day and I just loved how so many of the kids here looked like the Last Airbender.  Gemma continues to feed us six times a day.  It’s like the Lord Of The Rings with ‘Second Breakfast’, ‘Onsies’ and afternoon tea.

A young girl about 10 years old, named “Marin” ran right behind Chris and I on our daily walk and just started talking up a storm.  Marin and her friends were heading to school.  Marin asked as many questions as she could about absolutely everything from what we were doing in her village to what were we buying today.  Since they didn’t have time for ice cream, we gave them some money and told them to make sure they eat well today.  I couldn’t stop smiling all day after that encounter, what a sweet kid.

We headed up to the mountain again but this time to spend the night.  Some intelligent people might ask, “Why the hell would you do that?”  The only answer I can give is, “Because my brother wants too and if my brother wants to spend the night on his land even if it’s in rebel territory then damn it, we’re going to spend the night there.”

We had full packs going up the mountain which turned into a great workout.  Our protector, Johnny, came with us, carrying as much as he could on his motorcycle to include my brother’s huge circus tent. 

Johnny immediately caught, killed and cooked a duck to help keep his “white devils” nourished.  Like everything else we ate in this country, the duck was delicious.  It was already HAB(Hot as Balz) time and I was rocking my hammock with 360 degrees of mosquito netting.  We cleared out some brush in the area and did some work to beautify our camp site.  It’s important to my brother that the land stays intact.  Chris tries to buy more land from the villagers not because he’s greedy but because he wants to keep it as a natural jungle and not be torn up by companies.  Chris was very at home in the jungle.  The only thing he complained about were the ants which are EVERYWHERE.

Our night in the jungle was uneventful.  We all pulled guard duty and walked the perimeter a few times.  I don’t think Johnny slept at all and he had access to a fire arm just in case.  That night I laid in my hammock watching the full moon cross over the coconut and banana trees. I knew I would never forget it.  The only thing more beautiful would-be seeing GEM, my daughter and my grandson when I returned home.

When we woke up, Nelia’s first words were, “I’m not staying here another night.”

Upon returning to civilization, Chris and I took another walk to the shop for Red Horse and water.  Sometimes on the way there we would see a little girl, maybe six or seven years old with a cleft lip.  The little girl didn’t go to school and was usually helping her mom at their little vegetable stand.  For the most part, the people here are very nice but they don’t seem very tolerant of people or kids with deformities.  Every time Chris saw this little girl or her mom, he would go out of his way to give them something like shoes, food or just money.

I on the other hand would get intercepted by Lil John and two of his friends.  Lil John had that smile that everyone has on payday.  I asked him if by chance he would need some pesos today.  Lil John in true style replied, “Yes!  500!”  I give each kid 100 pesos, shook their hands and watched them run off to this hut that has coin operated computers, “The Philippine’s Arcade.”

I haven’t made it a whole day without getting at least three mosquito bites.  As I stated earlier, the bites only last two hours but are always on the shoulder blade where I can’t reach them.  My clothes had been sprayed with Dete, I used the strongest repellent known to mankind and we burned mosquito repellent nonstop but these mosquitos would not be deterred from flying their missions like Maverick in Top Gun.  I had dreams of these mosquitos getting their flight briefings, being told of the defenses set up to stop them and being shown a diagram of my body so they would know exactly where to bite to cause maximum irritation.

July 19, it’s 6 am and already humid as hell.  For the most part the weather has been cooler than I expected.  I fed the pig this morning, it’s almost time for the Green Mile.  Tomorrow is the pig roast on the beach.  For you Gladiator fans, I plan on giving the pig a clean death, a soldier’s death. 

I’m having a very light day of reading, working out and sweating my nuts off.  I don’t know what the best phone service is to have here but I can tell you it’s not Verizon.  The power goes out all the time but comes back up just a fast.  Kids walk by the house singing and seem to love it when we join in.   It’s Friday and the kids are allowed to wear jeans to school.

Johnny told me we’ll have to kill the pig tonight.  I said, “Fine.”

At 7pm that evening Johnny said, “We’ll kill the pig at 10 pm.”

I inquired why we had to wait until 10 pm and never really got a valid answer.  I guess 10pm is pig killing time in Mindanao.  I don’t mean to insensitive but I wanted to go to bed and it wasn’t like Wilbur was going contribute anything more to world so let’s get this going.

Finally, at 9:38 pm Johnny said, “We should kill the pig now.”

I grabbed my duel edge, six inch, Gerber, Commando Knife and walked quickly to the pig pen.  I jumped in the pig pen and raised the knife but Johnny yelled, “No, not here!”

We wrestle the pig to the back of one of the houses and I grab the pig and raise the knife but Johnny stops me again to get pan to catch all the blood.  Now I’ve tried to kill this pig so many times that the local people watching have changed their minds from “I don’t think the American will kill the pig” to “Who let this serial killer onto the island.”  Finally, Johnny gives me the go ahead.  One stab down the neck, right into the heart.  Two spurts of bright red blood and piggy has crossed over to the other side.  The ladies were shocked that the pig didn’t even squeal.  Johnny looked genuinely impressed and said, “I love you Pete, good kill!”

Johnny handed us some razor blades to shave the pig which just seemed like Mother Nature’s Justice of “Anything you kill, you should also have to shave its ass”.  Johnny’s ability to dress the pig was impressive.  Every part of the animal was used for something just as it should be.  One Red Horse Beer and then I’m off to bed.

July 20, we are off to the beach.  It’s a beautiful day and thanks my brother purchasing most of the food we were joined by just about 20 people from the extended family.  Johnny told us how rare it was for these kids to get a day like this.  There was trash all over the nearby forest area right by the beach.  That was always sad to see but seeing all these people having a wonderful time made me extremely happy.  The family asked me to say “Grace” which I was happy to do.  It wasn’t as memorable as a Ricky-Bobby “Baby Jesus prayer” but I did ok. 

An old man beating on a drum, walking up and down the beach and singing horribly as he came over to our area.  Listening to his singing gave me an instant headache and made me realize that this is how people feel when I sing.  I felt like I owed a lot of people back home an apology for former Christmas Carrols.  Nelia took the man’s hand, brought him into the shelter and prepared a plate for him.  What a good lady my brother married.  Nelia also bought ice cream for all the kids.

We played for a while in the ocean with the kids.  It was surprising to me that island people don’t know how to swim.  Some older gentlemen introduced me to their daughters who were not even as old as my daughter.  I was asked a lot about my relationship status but no one took it personally when I confirmed that I was unavailable.

After a few hours, we cleaned everything up and headed back to the house.  These people appreciate anything they get whether it’s shoes, a shirt, piece of pork or a trip to the beach, to them it’s all precious.

The Filipinos’ favorite two holidays are Christmas and whenever Manny Pacquiao fights.  One day while leaving San Francisco a Pacquiao fight was on and the whole country shut down.  Our bus driver left us to go watch the fight as we slowly sweat to death sitting shoulder to shoulder with ten other people.  Finally, enough people complained to him and he unhappily came back to do his job.

The next day I give Kira, Gemma’s daughter, 1000 pesos for allowing me to use her bed while I’m here.  I tried to express how grateful I was but she kept one upping me on being grateful for the money.

Now we are off to the cock fights in San Francisco.  The ring is just as filthy as you would see in the movies.  Two roosters with a two-inch razor attached to one of their legs are dropped into the center of the ring and fight it out.  I asked if it was ok to take pictures and was told to go ahead.  These people don’t care what the rest of the world thinks. 

In an interesting move, the ringmaster pointed at my brother and I and said, “We need to welcome two new friends from America.”  I didn’t like that at all, it was him saying to the four hundred spectators, “The money is over there with those two.”

Chris likes to bet on the fights and he’s really good at it.  He examines the roosters and their trainers and 90% of the time he picks the winner.  Today he would pick the winner 100% of the time.

If the reader believes that this event is inhumane or barbaric, I won’t disagree.  I think it’s beautiful that people have a heart for the suffering of creatures.  That being said, I couldn’t care less that ugly roosters are fighting each other.  They are not going to get a master’s degree in engineering or cure a disease.  The loser of the fight gets eaten which was going to be their destiny regardless of the fighting.  What did bother me was seeing husbands and fathers who live in poverty, betting a month’s wages on these fights.  Just shows you that wherever you find humans, you will find human weakness.  Some of these men looked like they just wanted to see something that was in more pain than they are.

The rules are:  Each rooster starts behind a line.  The enter into the fight zone.  When a rooster appears that it is dead, the referee picks it up and drops it three times, if the rooster doesn’t respond then we have a winner.  There was a lot of rooster blood flying during some of these matches.  For a small bird they could sure bleed a lot.

After my brother won money on the first two fights, I moved my position to one of the corners where I could keep an eye on him and everyone else without having to check my six.  I saw people eyeing him every time Chris opened his wallet.  A couple of times I let the person know that I saw them watching my brother with the harshest stare I could produce. 

There was one match I absolutely loved.  The roosters refused to fight.  No matter what the trainers did the roosters would not fight each other.  One of the disobedient roosters stood in the middle of the ring ‘crowing’ at the crowd.  It was like he was saying, “Are you not entertained!!!”  I was like, “Hell yeah!  Stand up to the man!”  They removed the passive roosters and started the next match.

I told Chris that it would be a mistake for us to wait for the last match before we left.  He agreed and left immediately with Johnny.  I waited thirty seconds to make sure no was trying to leave behind him and then I left the building.  As I came outside, I found Chris and Johnny had moved to tactical positions in case I did not come out alone or if they would have to go back in for me.  That’s how we did things.  My brother gave half his winnings to Johnny and we went back to the house to tell Nelia that Chris had lost everything gambling.  She has a good sense of humor and appreciated the joke.

July 22, I’m waiting for a truck to drop off some sand so we can build some new pens for goats and pigs.  No one told me it was a truck, I just pictured it would be a truck.  So, when the crusty old man with worker hands and a no nonsense look on his face walked his water buffalo and wagon in, I was like, “Well there you go!”  The man threw the sand where he felt it should go and rode his buffalo off the property.

Later at the mall, we met Sam.  Sam is an incredibly obese American who made it clear that he lived in Mindanao to get what he could from the cheap labor and the abundance of minerals in the Philippines.  Sam was friendly and didn’t seem to know that he was asshole.  It was unbelievable the words that came out of his mouth. 

Sam talked openly about how his workers would steal gold from him while working in his mine.

Chris and I sarcastically stated, “Yeah! It’s weird that people you pay three dollars a day would want more for their labor.”

Instead of being offended, Sam agreed which left Chris and I just looking at each other.  We said our goodbyes with Sam telling us that there is a group of whites on the island he would like to introduce us to.  We told Sam we were fine and then I felt like I needed a shower which I got but not how I thought.

Best rain storm ever!  Water was coming down in buckets.  Everyone ran inside but I took my shirt off and went out into it.  The storm was so amazing and powerful.  People were giving me that “weird white devil” look as I walked through the rain.  Some kids started kicking water at each other so I kicked a tidal wave onto them.  They laughed hysterically.  It was one of those beautiful moments there that I didn’t want to end but like all moments it did.

July 23 finds us on a bus to Gensan to visit some friends of Nelia.  Like everyone else in the country, our bus driver gives zero shits about anything.  Sharp turns, sudden stops or not coming to a complete stop to let people on or off.  I thought the driver was going to drag this poor old bastard to death who was just trying to get on board.  The poor, old man was barely able to grab a handle and get on but once he was on, he just took his seat like “that’s how it is here”.  The radio on the bus would play a Michael Bolton song, then a Christian song and then the theme to Hawaii Five O.   It’s a five-hour bus ride and somehow, I almost missed that the lady sitting across from me has a live chicken in a plastic bag.

I walked into a bathroom at the bus station while we were changing buses.  On the floor was a little naked man taking a bath.  His legs were curled up Buda style and he was just scrubbing away.  That alone was worth the five-peso (10 cent) admission.  Our next bus was a little more modern and had AC.  We also got to watch Chinese movies so as far as I was concerned, we could spend the next week on this bus.

We reached Gensan and were greeted by soldiers at a security station.  They were waving everyone through a metal detector which was beeping like crazy but they didn’t seem to care and just kept waiving them through.

We stayed at the Hotel San Marco, beautiful hotel.  Actually, it was basic but I could sit down on the toilet which made me so happy that Max said he could hear me crying while I was sitting on it.  I also have Internet service and am able to talk with my family.

We spend the evening with Nelia’s friends.  They picked us up in their SUV and shuttled us all over town.  We ended the evening at one of the many Karaoke clubs.  This would be the most I drank during the trip for some reason I felt totally secure as I desecrated Neil Diamond. The young lady in our group could sing like an angel putting my brother and I to shame but we still had fun with some Neil Diamond!

July 24, we go to the local mall which looks like an American mall but with a Mr. Pluffy cotton candy store.  As I am standing on the walk way of the second floor waiting for everyone to finish shopping and enjoying the view, I happen to make eye contact with another white, American walking my way.  I tried to use my Jedi mind powers to make him just walk by but he didn’t.  So, I got to meet Jimmie.  Jimmie was at least in his late 40s, unbuttoned shirt with a lot of gold chains.  Jimmie looked like a total ass-wipe but I reminded myself about profiling someone in this manner and felt I should give him a chance.  Jimmie it turns out was a very pleasant, American, racist, piece of shit.

Jimmie said many troubling things to me like when he talked about how not to overpay these already poor people for quality work.  Jimmie talked a lot about his big boobed Filipino girlfriend.  Jimmie told me how he left being a fire fighter after 15 years on the job which really concerned me because if you can’t complete twenty years as a fireman, sleeping until you’re hungry and then eating until your tired, then something went really wrong but maybe his bed sores got infected, who knows.  He let me know the joys of being an ugly person living among people who are easy to exploit.

Finally, Jimmie told me that he hated the US because what a poor direction it was heading.  I nodded my head, still trying to keep this civil.  I replied by telling him that America has lost its hard work ethic and unity.  It was now that Jimmie would let me know that he and I would never find common ground.  Jimmie said, “No, I’m talking about the blacks, Muslims and Mexicans.”  Except he didn’t say “Mexicans”.

My response was, “Jimmie, I’m going to have to disagree with you there.  I served with men of every race and I feel that is one of the best things about America.  By the way, my brother owns land here and is trying to lift these people up and not bring them down or exploit their services so your advice is worthless.” 

Jimmie wasn’t so much offended as he was shocked.  He thought just like so many of the Filipinos did, that we were there for cheap labor, sex and the cheap economy.  Glad to be a disappointment.  Jimmie even wished me good luck and slithered away.

American inflation is crazy in Gensan.  I was buying bananas from this kid for twenty pesos but by the time I got my wallet open the price had gone up to 100 pesos.  When a seven-year-old is holding a heavy box of fruit and wants to jack the price up, then you pay it, every time.  The kid’s smile was worth way more than the price hike.

We ride in the SUV out to Lake Sebu.  Lake Sebu is a place of old school tradition of the tribe that lived here centuries ago.  We were able to walk around and visit the shops and sites before taking a boat ride around the lake.  The boat was the size of a basketball court which allowed us to eat lunch during the tour.  The boat crew played musical instruments and danced for us.  I wish I could tell you how good it was but it was more like watching 3rd graders perform a play that they had practiced once.  The homes around the lake had no electricity.  I felt guilty being in a boat with food and friends while I viewed these peoples’ homes like I was at a zoo.  The experience took me back to when I was twelve-years-old, looking over the wall in Berlin in 1980 as the people stared back through barred windows.

As we departed and drove back through the village I again had to marvel at the ingenuity of these people.  A motorcycle carrying a full bed on the back.  A tri-cab with twelve people, to include three on the roof.  I was told that I could wed one of the village girls for 15,000 pesos.   I replied how sad that was because it cost 30,000 pesos to marry me.  Huge laugh filled the car.

On this evening, we ate at one of the local restaurants which was constantly playing the same song with the restaurant’s name.  Just about every time we go out to eat, the restaurants bring us more food than we ordered and charge us for it.  Tonight, would be no different.  Several extra meals were brought to us and were added to the bill.  I happily paid for the extra food and told my brother about some hungry kids that hang out at the mall begging for change.  I walked down the street about a quarter of a mile to where the boys hang out.  Upon seeing me, the boys started to smile and ran over asking for money.  When I held up the bags and asked, “How about some food instead?”  Then their faces really lit up.  Once I got them to stop fighting, ensuring that there was enough for all, they sat down and happily ate.

There are military check points every few miles because of the church bombing that ISIS committed not too long ago.  Security just pats us on the back and lets us through.

I negotiated for one more day in Gensan and got my request granted.  Oh, happy day!  More hot water and a sit-down toilet.

On July 25 we took a trip to the tuna docks.  Gensan has one of the largest tuna docks in the world.  We were given rubber boots and a short briefing and then headed out to the docks.  The workers test the tuna for quality and let me know that the high-quality tuna goes to fancy restaurants and the low quality goes to my house.

I got to spend the rest of the day reading, exercising and taking those awesome hot showers that I had missed.  Any other free time I had, I would just sit on the toilet, finally knowing what true happiness was. 

July 26, there is a brutal knocking at our door at 3:30 am.  I thought it was my brother being an ass so I yelled, “Yeah! Hang on!”

It was Nelia telling us that Chris had passed out after peeing blood.  Now, there had been a couple times during the trip my brother would say, “Hey my urine is really red like blood so I need you to pass me a beer.”  He would say it like it was no big deal so that’s how I took it. 

I stepped in their room and there was my brother in the shower, totally disoriented, peeing blood along with having massive dysentery.  I immediately felt terrified that his kidneys were failing and that I would have to give him one of my kidneys in a third world hospital.  Selfishly I started to think about how we could fly back to America so we could safely give him one of his kids’ kidneys.

Chris collapsed into my arms.  I got very concerned as I repeated his name, “Chris.  Chris! Chris!!”  I thought at one point he quit breathing and was getting ready to start CPR when all of a sudden he stood up and said, “Yeah! I’m fine.”

I told Chris to relax and that the ambulance is on the way.  He objected but was quickly reassured when I told him how important it was to Nelia.  My brother had dysentery, was peeing blood and was being nice to everyone which was very uncharacteristic so I thought it was very necessary that he go to the hospital.

It turned out Chris had a urinary tract infection.  When all the blood exited at once (Chris referred to this as his ‘Man Period’), that caused Chris to pass out.  At the hospital, Nelia asked Chris if he had been with any other women during the trip.  I was so proud of my brother when he looked up her and said, “Well honey, two dollars always seems like a good deal until something like this happens.  Please tell me honey, what STD makes you pee blood and pass out?  The only thing I can come up with is that I would have to screw a chick with Ebola to get this effect.” 

Nelia immediately understood the wisdom of this and we moved on.  I did not like seeing my brother having to overcome this medical condition but I did love that we got to spend another night with hot showers, AC and sit-down toilets.  Hey!  I didn’t give him a urinary tract infection.

July 27, talked to my daughter which is always a treat and then a long bus ride back to Agusan.  The bus ride gives me time to write and read.  The bus has a toilet 😊 which again is my new definition of “Happiness”.

We stop at yet another military checkpoint.  The difference here is that they actually care about the metal detector and they also cared about the knives that I’ve been caring for the whole trip.  The two soldiers (for easy reference I will refer to them as the soldier with the gun and the soldier with the bigger gun).  They were never threatening or rude but they were very insistent that it was illegal for me to have these two knives in this province.

My brother came over quickly and his demeanor let me know that he didn’t give a rat’s ass that these were soldiers, if we needed to get “A Coffee to Go”, our code to start wupping some ass, then he was down. 

Fortunately, I was able to address the soldier with the bigger gun with the prospect of me just giving my knives to them. The soldier with the bigger gun asked,” Oh!  Would you mind giving us the knives?”  They really had this look like I was going to tell them to each pick one of my balls and start sucking.

My reply was simply, “No that would be fine.” But I was thinking, “Bro!  If you don’t butt stroke me and throw me in a rape prison, you’d be shocked what I’m willing to pass over to you.”

We changed buses and thanks to the new driver’s disregard for traffic laws and passenger safety, we made it back to Johnny and Gemma’s in record time. July 28 is tomorrow and is our last day in Mindanao.  I’m happy to say the rumors of women throwing themselves at tourists and massive amounts of prostitutes going after foreigners is completely false at least in this region.  I know there are ‘red light areas’ but we didn’t go there.  I’m sorry to say every American we met was as ugly on the inside as they were on the outside but again, I know there are Americans over there doing good things for the right reasons, unfortunately we didn’t get to meet them.

Our snakes arrived, two large pythons, and they were prepped and killed for dinner.  Chris and Max killed and cleaned the snakes in expert fashion so that everything was preserved.  If you haven’t had python and banana for dinner, you’re not living.  I ate snake with every meal until I left the island.  How did it taste?  Not bad.

July 29, our last day in Mindanao.  What I’m not going to miss:

1)          Rice with every meal 2) the rooster that crows every time I’m trying to sleep 3) Squatty Potty 4) HAB 5) Mosquitos and 6) being told everything is poison from that snake, the snails, that cactus, the barbs on a cat fish, that spider and that snake.

What I’m going to miss: 1) The people 2) fresh fruit 3) the jungle 4) heavy rain 5) the ocean 6) the food 7) simple living

8) 1980s nostalgia

It’s 12:30 pm and the sun finally showed.  It had been nice and cool until now but the HAB will not be denied.  Chris and I still made our last walk down to our shop to say good bye and thank them for their kindness.  We get some pictures with the shop girls and give them some extra money for their generosity.  The girls are really sweet and not because they are digging my rocking hard, grandpa bod and not just because we over tip them, they are nice to everyone.  I was really hoping to see Lil John one more time even if it meant he just robbed me one more time but I didn’t get too, oh well. 

I’m just taking in the island one last time as I exercise and hydrate with water and Gatorade.  That night we had two bottles of Red Horse Beer between Johnny, Chris and I before we crashed out at 8 pm to be ready for our 1 am wake up and departure.

Sorry to be graphic here but the last day I just happened to get the worst case of diarrhea.  I’m at the squatty potty one last time and it was a long session.  What Churchill would call “my finest hour”.  I took some Imodium and antibiotics which seem to help. 

The plane ride was brutal.  I’m on a solid diet of soup and Gatorade.  Jet-Jet got us to the hotel and once again I’m rocking hot showers three times in a day.

July 31 starts with a mild breakfast and then YouTube videos all day until dinner.  At 6pm I had just started to trust my farts again and was moving back toward solid foods.

August 1, we jump on the plane to Tokyo and enjoy a nice six-hour flight.  All the way there I couldn’t stop writing Timothy’s first bed time story called, “Listen to the King”.   The story of Flecktopia and its wise king.  Weeks later my daughter would read the story and tell me to edit certain parts.  She said the words “skank Hoe” should not be in a children’s book.  Everyone’s a critic.  We landed in Tokyo where I ate a couple kraut hot dogs which were amazing.  I know it’s against the law to yell “Fire” in a public place in America but I couldn’t help but wonder if in Japan the same law applied to yelling “Godzilla!”  Fighting the urge to do so I boarded the plane to Chicago.

I did whatever I could to stay busy for the ten-hour flight.  I re-watched End Game just because it’s long and I’m a huge fan of Captain America!  My GEM was driving circles around the airport to avoid the horrendous parking charges.  We left so much stuff in the Philippines that my pack felt super light.  I jumped in the car with GEM and requested that she please take me home.  It was very late on Thursday, August 1 when I arrived home.  I think I sat on my toilet for an hour just because I could.  I crawled into my big beautiful bed and fell immediately to sleep.  I had quit taking the Malaria Nightmare Medication some nights ago so no restless dreams that night.

August 2, 2019, I jump out of bed eager to meet my grandson.  GEM and I   grabbed some breakfast at the Flap Jacks Restaurant (never tasted so good) and then headed to my daughter’s home.

After a month of seeing beautiful oceans, jungles, laughing with the local inhabitants, eating amazing food, giving as much as we could to some of the most poverty stricken people, witnessing amazing animals, feeling like Indiana Jones going down the salt marsh, having this sense of danger all around you from the presence of cobras, soldiers, rebels, ISIS, crocks, disease, and poisonous plants, fish and reptiles nothing I saw in that amazing country could match seeing my daughter holding her son, my first grandchild. 

I hope whoever reads this gets the opportunity to travel the world, meet new people and has incredible experiences in foreign lands and I hope that whoever reads this remembers that there is beauty right in front of them and to never take it for granted.  Thanks for taking the time to read this.