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Angeles City Revisited Part 1


I retired in July this year and visited Angeles City en-route to Cebu, where I hope to spend my retirement. I had arranged for the Royal Amsterdam Hotel to pick me up at Manila Terminal 3, but the plane was delayed by about an hour, and it took longer than usual to get through Immigration because of the checks on the OneHealthPass, the Philippine’s system of Covid checks. If you are fully vaccinated (with booster) all you have to do is fill in the OneHealthPass online, upload your certificates, and you will be given a QR code which will guarantee boarding and entry into the Philippines. When I travelled to the PI in May, my Covid docs were scrutinised at each stage of the journey, but this time they were given only a cursory glance. Mask-wearing is still a thing though. I had to wear a mask from boarding the aircraft in Brussels, all the way to Manila, including a stopover in Doha – total, 21 hours. Fortunately, nobody seems to bother much about masks in the entertainment area of AC.

Despite the delays to my flight, the driver was still waiting, and we were soon on our way – and how different it was to my first Manila Airport pickup in 2006! Back then, we had to drive through Manila’s log-jammed traffic, but now there is an overhead expressway called the Skyway which connects to the expressway to Angeles City. It took less than 2 hours, whereas before it took over 3. Of course, it is more convenient to fly into Clark, which is about 15 minutes away from Angeles, but the Brussels-Manila flight was significantly cheaper than the Brussels-Clark flight. The airport pickup cost 3,500 PHP (53.50 GBP, 61.60 USD), though there is a bus called the Victory Liner for a lot less.

The Royal Amsterdam Hotel is right in the heart of the entertainment area of Fields Avenue (also called Walking Street). Viking Bar is a short stagger away, and my current favourite, Lollipop, is about 20 paces further west. The rooms are small, but clean and modern with all the usual facilities. Its only disadvantage is that it is a long, thin hotel between Fields Avenue and Mitchell Avenue with hardly any windows to the outside.

After a quick shower and change of clothes I was ready to hit the bars. My plan was to enjoy the scenery, have a few San Mig Lights, and maybe talk to a few girls. I had no intention of barfining because – how shall I put it? Three reasons – 1) I’ve been there and got the T-shirt; 2) as a sexagenarian (or should that be sexygenerian?), I’m not as testosterone-driven as I used to be, and 3) it’s so hard to find what I want: I want a girl who is young, slim and sexy, but I don’t want wham-bam-thank you ma’am. I know I’m just a walking ATM as far as the girls are concerned, but I don’t want to be treated like one – it’s a bit of a conundrum.

 

Champagne.

Champagne.

 

First stop was an old favourite, Champagne (the sign says “Champagne1” now, but they seem to play around with that last character and not so long ago it said “Champagney”). It was just after 9:00 PM, but there was no atmosphere – indeed, 9 seemed to be the key number. There were 9 girls on stage and 9 customers including me. I was not impressed by the line-up at first. They were overdressed in short shorts and cropped tops, though the girls who came on later wore lime green bikinis. I can’t understand why the manager doesn’t dress them in as little as the law will allow (which, unlike Thailand, is not nothing!). Generally, the girls in the first set were average-ish: two of them were – not fat exactly – but heavy, and one looked over 40. I say “at first”, because I know from experience that I have to shake off that greener grass feeling that the next bar will be better and study the form. When I did (helped by the San Mig effect), two of them began to grow on me. At this point I was joined by the mamasan, which was a good opportunity to do some research. This is what I found out: barfine = 4,000 PHP (61 GBP, 71 USD). In 2019 it was 3,000 average, 3,500 tops, so a quite reasonable increase. Unlike Thailand, the barfine includes the girl’s fee, which is around half the total amount, and is paid up front in the bar. There is no “short time”/ ”long time” as such. How long she stays is negotiable. My advice to the Angeles newbie is not to agree to anything less than all night, however cute and sexy she is, as, usually, the barfine cannot be negotiated down for short time. Lady drink = 350 PHP (5.35 GBP, 6.23 USD), unchanged from 2019. Back in 2006 a lady drink was a watered Coke. These days it is usually a San Mig Light. Some of the girls must get very drunk by the end of the evening, but it is nice that she has the same drink as you as it bolsters the illusion that you are chatting to a girlfriend. The figures mentioned above were fairly standard in the bars I visited, except that my San Mig Light was only 100 PHP in Champagne, the standard price being 135 PHP.

I also asked about cherry girls. This is a unique Angeles phenomenon which is still alive and well. A cherry girl is a virgin, and the price of her virginity is now 150,000 PHP (2,291 GBP, 2,671 USD), though some of them will accept less for the right man (someone who will take her out of the bar and marry her). It was 50,000 back in 2006 and 100,000 in 2019 (it seems to go up in increments of 50). One girl told me that the bar’s cut is 25%, though I was unable to confirm this. Not surprisingly, the cherries are the youngest and cutest girls in the bar – more than that – they have a fresh, unsullied look that makes them stand out from their battle-hardened sisters. Unsurprisingly, it turned out that the two girls who had caught my eye were cherries, both 19-years-old. It is possible to barfine a cherry to go bar hopping with a nude cuddle afterwards. I did this once back in 2008 and found it a pleasant experience – a bit like a boyfriend and a girlfriend on a first date. No sex, of course, but there’s plenty of that available on other evenings with other girls. Now that I am a “sexygenarian”, the idea appeals even more: a night of barhopping, a meal with a bottle of wine, and an opportunity to fondle a fresh-faced teen is a more appealing prospect than a bonk with a short-time queen. Cherry girls might also appeal to the ethically minded monger (if there is such a thing), who can partake of the Angeles experience without breaking his marriage vows.

Accordingly, I took my pick and found myself chatting to Pam. She was a delight to look at: pretty face, kissable lips, body of subtle hour-glass shape, and at 5’ 1”, quite petite. We chatted for a long time over a lady drink, and I found her quite interesting to talk to. She was well-educated (had passed her high school certificate) and had good general knowledge. This is a bonus because all too often in AC I find myself stuck with a girl with no conversation, and, given that the average sex session lasts c. 4 mins (or even up to an hour if you include foreplay and afterplay), you need something else to fill up the time – and Filipino soaps on the hotel TV just don’t cut it!

There was just one problem – there was something mechanical about her conversation. She sounded a bit like a tour guide giving a well-rehearsed spiel. I was careful to question her closely about her intentions: Would she stay all night? Yes. Would she give me a nude cuddle? Yes. With kisses? Yes. But I still wasn’t convinced. In the end, I decided to hedge my bets. I told her that I’d just spent 21 hours at 41,000 ft and that I was very tired and would come again tomorrow. Then I paid my bin and gave her the kiss test – I made to kiss her on the mouth – but she quickly turned away and offered her cheek – fail! If she wouldn’t give me a goodbye kiss, I doubt that the nude cuddle with kisses would be any good. I moved on, thinking that it had been a narrow escape.

 

Lollipop.

Lollipop.

 

I went diagonally across the road to Lollipop, which was my favourite bar before Covid. It was just as I remembered it (better, because the disgusting toilets had been refurbished). Lollipop is a gogo bar from the good old days. It looks as though it was fitted out in the 1980’s and the décor has hardly changed at all. It has a low ceiling illuminated with fairy lights – so low, that if an average height westerner stood on the stage, his head would probably touch the ceiling. The bar was full, the atmosphere was humming, and there were plenty of girls sitting with customers having the usual kind of fun. If any Thailand aficionados are nostalgic for old-style gogo bars, old-style petite bargirls – and prices that are nearer to Thailand back in the late 90’s, then Lollipop is the place. It is often said that Angeles City is about 20 years behind Thailand, and from what I have read about Thailand recently in this forum, that still holds true. (I will find out in a few weeks’ time as I have booked a visa run to Thailand).

Almost the first thing I saw after passing through the curtain was the rear view of a pretty girl in a T-back bikini going to join a customer. A moment later, another girl in the same type of bikini went to sit with another customer, this time giving a delicious front view, her large breasts wobbling over a low top. The bar was quite full, and I couldn’t find a place to sit, so the waitress put me next to two bargirls. Both were pretty and petite, and both were wearing the same pink, thong-type bikini which left little to the imagination. The one I fancied was right next to me and was notable for a sort of strappy criss-cross arrangement around her legs. I was tempted to talk to her, but decided to take it easy and study the form first in the hope of getting a better look at her when it was her turn to dance (after all, you can’t turn and stare at a girl right next to you – at least, not until you’ve got a few San Migs inside you!).

There were 12 girls on stage, just enough to make it look full, all wearing variations on the same theme. Two or three were stunners, another two or three were a bit heavy, the rest were a good average. I asked the waitress how many cherry girls they had. She told me that there were three and one was over there at the end of the stage. I liked the look of her, so I asked the waitress to bring her over to me: Jenette, 22. The waitress said she was very shy, but she chatted confidently enough. She had a pretty face, the skin tightly drawn with a flat nose and largish mouth, and her body was well-shaped and very slim with a perfectly flat stomach. After a while, another girl appeared on my left-hand side. I can’t remember how she got there, but I think she was Jenette’s friend and muscled in on the act. Her outfit was stunning. She wore the same pink, thong-bikini of all the other girls in her set, but the bikini bottom was cut very low, with a pink strap just above it and an embroidered butterfly in the middle. She, also, had a washboard flat stomach and a slender, well-shaped body with fuller breasts than Jenette. That being the case, I bought her a drink as well and started to chat her up: Gretchen, 27, from Samar (the Isaan of the PI). I expressed surprise at her age as she looked about 18, but when I put my reading glasses on to take a closer look, I noticed slight pock marks in her cheeks – an indication of bad acne as a teenager which had since cleared up. She said she had no children yet, and I joked that she needed to get cracking and I would help her to make a start. I liked both of them, but since they were very similar and sex with Gretchen would be 146,000 PHP cheaper, I was tempted to barfine her – but there was no chemistry. I’m sure she would have been a good performer, but I’m looking for something more, so I paid my bin and left.

 

Carousel.

Carousel.

 

Carousel was next. The first thing I noticed when I entered this bar was that it was freezing cold, and all the girls were hugging themselves in an effort to keep warm. I felt cold too, and I’m from the north of England! Several bars have this problem, but this was by far the worst. There used to be a bar called Alaska in Angeles. That’s gone now, but the Arctic climate suggested by that name can still be found in Carousel.

When I visited this bar in 2019, the carousel – a large, revolving stage – wasn’t working. They’d fixed that, and a good selection of girls were going round and round – slowly – so slow that it was ages before a girl who caught your eye came round again. Indeed, it wasn’t easy to spot her the second time around because many girls are similar looking and these days only a few bars give the girls numbers – which is a pity, because it is very useful; you can remember a number and find her again another night. The reason for doing away with numbers is that they are thought to be demeaning. But, looked at in cold blood, the whole thing is demeaning, so why fuss about numbers? In my opinion, the only reason not to wear numbers is the Soi Cowboy reason – the girls are buck naked and there is nowhere to pin them.

Overall, the bar was better than it was in 2019, with a good selection of girls and a fair few customers – though I’ll never forget how it was when I first went there in 2006. There were so many girls that they were clinging on at the edges of the carousel, and the rest of the bar was so full that it was standing room only.

 

Avalon.

Avalon.

 

I decided to try a few new bars, so went to Avalon. The name suggests a mystic, Arthurian, place, but it was rather bleak and lacking in atmosphere. There was a good selection of girls on the stage, and plenty of them – 22, which is a lot by present day standards. However, there were only 9 customers and not much interaction between them and the girls. They were wearing black thong bikinis, so plenty of pretty posteriors on display. I quite fancied one of the girls, but she had no number and I’ve forgotten exactly what she looked like, so there’s no point in trying to find her again. In any case, I didn’t need to, because, in the next bar, I met the girl of trip.

To be continued…

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If you enjoyed this article about my recent experiences in Angeles, you might also enjoy my book: Amorous Adventures in Angeles City which includes trip reports from 2006 to 2020.

 

The author of this article can be contacted at : rumblejungle19@gmail.com