A Trilogy 4 of 3: The Return of the Jedi

Like any good Hollywood trilogy, there just cannot be three. Three is never enough. I could talk about Liza, my current girlfriend, a lovely Filipina and is honest and loyal.

Well, honest to a point.

We were living in China and speaking with friends and the conversation came around to food and I was mentioning that I pretty much eat anything and having lived a spell in Guangdong that pretty much means anything. They ask me to rhythm off what strange things I have eaten and as I am listing the delicacies I have eaten, Liza pipes up “and rat.”

“No Liza, I have never eaten rat” I say as I continue my list, “ah but you have she says” laughing. That stops me in my tracks.

“And when was this", I ask, turning to face her with my best stern look.

She cast my mind back to a drive up to Neauva Ecija, in Northern Luzon (Philippines) to see her sister and niece. We arrived about dinner time and they gave me a stew to eat. The usual fare – meat, veg, some chill and vinegar. I remember them all keep asking me if it was good and I’m replying yes, yes of course. Actually it was quite good.

I’m sitting now in quiet reflection, the list has stopped and everyone is laughing.

“Rat? Rat! Seriously that was rat and you didn’t tell me.” I demand an answer.

Liza is near wetting herself, “Yes, it was rat.”

So the list, from the top again: “Rat…

Although Liza is fantastic her family are crooks, murderers, thieves and liars. I could tell quite unbelievable stories, but I would like to keep things light-hearted, like the time Derek (one of the Albania 10) and I were in No. 5 Bar in Saigon.

Saturday was Derek's day off and I suppose mine too. We decided on No.5 Bar to enjoy the very accommodating happy hour. Now No.5 is a straightforward no nonsense expat / hostess bar where the beer is average, the food is average, the girls are average. The prices are cheap.

Whilst shooting the breeze, catching up on the week, checking out the clientele and pondering where the hell the bars numbered one, two, three and four are, the beer goes down as smoothly (and cheaply) as a $10 whore. The place was packed and noisy. Derek starts to tell me about his week.

It has been unbelievable. Two of his ex-girlfriends had contacted him to tell them they are pregnant and he is ‘daddy’. He tells me one isn’t for sure, but not sure about the other.

At that moment his mobile rings and it;s another ex-girlfriend. His face goes white and serious.

“No, I can’t be” he says.

He is shaking his head, “No I am not the father”.

It seems it is one of the girlfriends. I sit back and try to tune into the music, as this looks like it's going to be a long conversation. He grabs my attention as he is shaking his head, he signals three fingers to me. I obviously have a disbelieving look and he covers the mouthpiece of the phone.

“This is another girl! Three in a week claiming I got them pregnant!” He is struggling to stay cool and his voice is rising.

“I am not the father!” he exclaims.

The music blares, people chat, everyone is happy.

“I can’t be the f**king father!” he is nearly screaming now as he pushes back his bar stool and stands up. He is completely animated and the people around start to notice him.

“I can’t be the father as I came in your mouth!” he screams! The place falls in to silence. I choke on my beer. Derek slams the phone down. There is an uneasy silence, some sniggers, mostly shock as everyone gradually returns to their drinks. Time to move on. I laughed. I shouldn’t but I laughed a lot!

Derek got robbed twice in Saigon losing his laptop, cards, cash, etc. Usual story – meets girl, buys girl drink, buys girl food, brings here home, fxxxs, Derek falls asleep, girl robs him. I go over to meet him one Sunday morning. He is hyper.

“I’ve been fxxxing robbed again” he declares. “My laptop has gone, the bitch has made off with my laptop”.

I’m trying not to laugh, I really shouldn’t (again) but he is so animated. He sits down on the sofa. I ask him what happened, he tells me, but it's all vague and then he says, “Wait, I hid the laptop, just in case.” Signs of hope come across his face.

“Okay, where did you hide it?” I ask him.

His face slumps again, “I’ve forgotten” he replies.

It takes 2 hours and 8 cans of 333 to find the bloody thing, but we do.

He is completely uncontrollable and there is something truly not right about him. He is a sex addict and I drink too much, far too much. He wishes he could drink as much as me and I wish I could fxxx as much as him. It's a really bizarre set up. Then again, I am fussy on what I drink, only Tiger or 333 for beer or whisky, and getting proper whisky here isn’t easy. Derek is not so fussy. He really has gone through a full card of munters. I try to be selective.

And of course their is MUFF, based in China and I would say a professional mongerer. Very kind-hearted, very intelligent, completely insane. I won’t share his stories as his stories are best told by himself, which he does, on this site. He is another member of the Albania 10.

I do wonder what will become of us, having left Scotland 10 years ago with a lot of alcohol, sex and drama under the bridge, and the drama in Asia is like no other drama. I haven’t been home in 3 years, with no desire to and I think I would be like a fish out of water if I did.

So that's the trilogy complete, and maybe in a few years, I’ll add another, maybe a prequel, until then don’t get hung up on the bad (and there is plenty of it) and enjoy the good times.

Stickman's thoughts:

Nice stories, I always enjoys these tales of errant adventures in Asia. And I really like your quote, "The drama in Asia is like no other drama!"