Palawan is an island in the west of the Mimaropa Admistrative region of the Philippines. The Phils is divided colloquially into three regions, Luzon in the north, Visayas in the centre and Mindanao in the south. Palawan is on the far west of Visayas.
It forms the northern boundary of the Sulu Sea and is only some 70 kilometres from Malaysia at its southern extremity. It is served by two airports, the larger being at Puerto Princesa, the main town on the island.
I had come to the Philippines because I had met, on-line, a transpinay called Crissy José and I wanted to meet her in real. At the time I was still recovering from the end of my marriage and a brief and failed affair with a women close to my age. (Which was an unmitigated disaster.) I’d been chatting to a couple of women but here was a click with Crissy that I didn’t get with the others. So I booked my ticket.
Spring and summer of 2012 I had passed sailing my yacht Misty around the coast of Scotland. She was sold in September and I wanted something I hadn’t had in a long time — a good chillout holiday and plenty of sex. Well, the Philippines trip got me one of those.
That first visit to the Phils was only three weeks — back then you only got 21 days on the automatic tourist visa. I had made my base at the Oasis Paco Park hotel in Ermita, Manila, and Palawan was the second exploration trip. The first was to Boracay, which I write about here.
(As an aside, I again highly recommend the Oasis Paco Park. It’s reasonably priced, clean and the staff are super-friendly. It also has a really good, if a tad pricey, Italian restaurant.)
We had booked our tickets for the Palawan tour through TravelTeam, and found ourselves on a Zest Airlines flight out of NAIA at 0700.
I canna hink A wis muckle mair nor fower or five year auld the verra first time A clappit ma een on a deider. Noo ye maun hink yon’s a gey queer-like wey tae open a bookie siccan this een, an hink tae yersel, by, whit’s this lad hinkin aboot? But A says to youse, that gin a bookie’s tae be an honest bookie, an no jist a pile o havers, then we maun set aff on the recht fit, an be honest wi wirsels fae the aff. An sae it is; fan A hink on ma childheid, death aye seems affy close. But this parteecular deider, A’ll hae tae explain mair aboot.
If you like this writing in genuine Scots from Angus, you’ll just love Poaching the River, available in paperback and as an e-book!
This video is about the potential pitfalls facing older men who decide to get married to young Asian girls. There is no need to do this and you should not. There are plenty of other ways to get sex. You can just pay for it on an as-required basis or you can just hire a maid and service provider for a very modest sum. Or you could find a sweet ladyboy, with whom the pressure will be much less — and the sex will be just as good. But marriage, especially to teenage Asian girls, implies a whole lot of other things that you should consider very deeply.
I’m slowly copying all my videos from YouTube and the other platforms I have and self-hosting them. This may take some time!
What is ‘sex tourism’? It’s a subject that generates a great deal of copy and little enlightenment. Is it just ‘mongering’, the practice of buying sex, but this time in foreign lands? And if it were, why would there be anything wrong with that?
Is it any sex abroad? Is having sex when you’re on holiday ‘sex tourism’? What about if you live abroad and occasionally have dalliances with the locals? Sex tourism? What about, in the same country, if you marry a local? Still ‘sex tourism’?
What does ‘sex tourism’ actually mean? Is it really a thing, or is it just another nasty epithet that the lowest of the low, rabidfems, use to try to shame men into behaving by the rules that they and other feminazis set, without ever getting a say in defining those rules? Can women be ‘guilty’ of ‘sex tourism’, or is that just holiday fucking?
Ladyboy bars are gateways to Heaven. I hope this little video will help you visualise the legions of loveliness that populate them.
If you don’t know what the inside of a ladyboy bar, is really like I hope this little video will help you visualise the legions of feminine — and available — loveliness that populate them.
I found the video below a few years ago and decided to re-edit it to Billy Idol’s ‘Rebel Yell’. It’s an all-time favourite and frankly, is far more in tune with the passionate yelps of a toothsome young transgirl in bed than the music the video originally had!
You’ll need a ‘guest-friendly’ hotel, if you don’t use one of the ubiquitous short-time hotels which are, by definition, open to customers bringing along a girl or three. Although generally, budget hotels are fine, it’s probably better to avoid those run by farangs. I have to say, with regret, that the only time I’ve ever had any real issues with ladyboys in bars, restos or hotels in southeast Asia, it has been in establishments run by that species of bigoted Australian male who would, frankly, have been better left as a stain on his mother’s bedsheets.
Ladyboys are like hobbits; they have big feet. Although, and fortunately, not usually hairy.
My dearest and truest friend, my distant confidante and beloved adopted sister, Andie, is sitting on the brown vinyl sofa in my rented condo in Pasig. She has delicately hoisted the hem of her long floral skirt with one hand and with the other she is holding one of her slippers — flipflops in Filipino — against her leg.
‘Ugh,’ she says. ‘You see? My feet are longer than half the length of my shin.’
She drops the slipper and the hem and takes to regarding her feet with evident distaste, elbow on knee, chin cupped in her hand. She wiggles her toes.
‘I could possibly cut them off,’ she muses. ‘I should cut them off.’
The ‘wet market’ or palenke in Pasig City is really huge and spectacular. You can buy anything there, believe me. it’s a fun place too, literally open 24/7/365. Keep your wallet in your pocket and you’ll have no problems.
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