Confessions of a Sex Tourist--Motorcycling in Mindanao

by Lawrence Scott

  Confessions of a Sex Tourist

  Motorcycling in Mindanao

  ~

  by

  Lawrence Scott

  Copyright 2014 by Lawrence Scott

  ~

  All right reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced

  in any form without permission of the author.

  Chapter 1

  ~

  It is every poor Filipino's dream to own a small motorcycle, it is every poor Filipina's dream to be on the back of it.

  —Lawrence Scott

  ~

  I watched as he trudged up the beach. He was a good hundred meters away. It was so hot and He looked miserable in His long, white robe. I remained under my palapa, took another drink from my liter bottle of beer. San Miguel beer, the only beer to drink in the Philippines as far as I was concerned. I was sitting on the beach in front of Action Geckos, a nice resort on the island of Camiguin, Mindanao. There were a few fishermen far off the beach in boats but aside from the guy in the heavy robe and I, the beach was deserted.

  Many foreigners stayed here for the scuba trips. It was early. I slightly lifted my head from my recliner to chart his progress. Slow. The deep, hot sand made walking in his old-fashioned sandals a chore. I recognized him immediately as His picture hung in every church in the world.

  My beer remained nice and cold as I brought large-sized beer blankets from home to keep them that way. I’d been to hot climates several times before, but no one seemed to catch on to the idea of keeping their beer cool. I guess they just drink real fast, ha ha.

  He was very near now and looked quite miserable. He had a nice trim beard but his long hair was matted and stuck to his forehead with sweat. I could hear him muttering under his breath. There were a few swimmers pretty far out in the water but all the palapas were empty. Except for Jesus, I was alone on the beach. It was early in the morning and all the expats had partied the night before, like every night; and were undoubtedly sleeping in or boinking girlfriends.

  I tried to get the waiter’s attention, from the beachside bar; to get some water for Jesus. I knew he would have to be thirsty. But like always they ignored me. I get so little attention from waiters in restaurants that I had considered carrying a starter’s pistol to fire into the air when I wanted something. Invariably I would have to walk up to the bar and make an order. Funny thing too, as I am a big tipper.

  “Goddamn it’s hotter than a mother fucker!” He had arrived at my palapa and was standing in front of me. I was unsure how to act, this was my first encounter with a deity. I jumped to my feet and offered my hand to him. He didn’t notice. He was busy pulling his robe up over his head muttering obscenities. I stood there roughly at what I thought was attention but he continued to wrestle Himself out of the robe and appeared to become very agitated since it clung to His sweaty body. He pulled and grunted and swore. I eased myself back down and tried to appear as small as possible. Jesus was angry and I was unsure what could happen next. I considered walking quickly away before He succeeded in freeing Himself from the robe. I thought it unwise to be the first person he saw when he emerged in what might turn into a rage. He had the whole thing pulled up over his head now, but the collar seemed to be very small. He reminded me of a puppy with a bag stuck on his head. I’d laugh as the puppy shook, ran backwards, bumping into things trying so desperately to free himself. I had to stop myself from laughing out loud at the comparison. I turned and shouted again towards the bar to get Him some water or something to drink. But it looked like everyone had gone back to bed.

  “Cocksucker!” He had finally got it over his head and threw his robe angrily to the sand. He was only wearing a thong underneath and he stood in front of me with his bulging crotch uncomfortably near my face. I wanted to stand and again offer my hand in greeting but with Him standing right in front of me, I could not. He appeared very fit with little body hair. He grabbed my pack of Marlboros and shook one free. I quickly reached for my lighter but when I looked up His cigarette was already burning. The breeze off the ocean was cooling Him. He smiled as he looked out to see the fishermen just off shore. He seemed to be calming down. He smiled down at me and sat heavily on the recliner next to mine.

  With His improved mood, I ventured a tentative sentence. “Uhhhhhhhh, I have been trying to order you some ice water or something uhhhhh…sir, but I can’t seem to…”

  I heard a noise behind and the impossible-to-find waiter was standing behind me with a bottle of wine and large glass of ice on a tray. He sat the tray down and held my bill for me to initial. As he turned to go I plaintively requested another beer, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t hear me. I turned my attention back to my guest. I reached for the bottle to pour him some wine but his glass was already full and He was raising it to his lips. He downed the entire water glass full, from bitter experience, I knew to be very strong wine. He set the glass down and let out a noisy belch.

  “Where the hell are we? What is the name of this place?”

  I opened my mouth to speak. “We are…uhhhh…this place is…uhhhhhhh…the name of this resort is uhhhhhh…this island is called…uhhhhh….” My mind, such as it was; went blank. Jesus had asked me a simple question and I was helpless to answer him. I felt like such a fool and was afraid he would become angry again.

  “No matter.” When not angry He was very soft spoken. He looked at me with deep blue eyes, really looked at me. I was becoming frightened again of his mercurial temper. But he looked away, out to sea. We could see several small boats bobbing in the waves about 3 or 4 kilometers from shore. “Fishermen” he mumbled approvingly. He then turned his attention back to me.

  “Who are you then?” he asked me quietly with what appeared to be genuine interest. I was immediately calmed and charmed by His presence. This was going to work out great. I was a writer and I could already picture the story I would write of this day. I was bound for fame. I scooped Jesus.

  “I’m uhhhhhh…my name is uhhhhhhhh…I’m from uhhhhhh…I’m, I’m…” OMG! Stupid mind has gone blank! I just knew he was going to be angry again and lightning shoot out of his fingertips or something.

  He seemed to be reading my thoughts as I stammered out my non-answers to His simple questions.

  “Ah no matter, don’t worry, even I can’t cure fools.”

  My first ever meeting of a deity wasn’t going very well. I reached for the bottle of wine to refill his glass but saw that it was again full already. He took a deep drag off His cigarette and flicked the butt towards the sea. No environmentalist, this God. He drained his refilled glass of wine and leaned back in the recliner. Another belch and looked like he might just drift off to sleep. I didn’t want to disturb Him but this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to speak with God Himself and I was not going to pass it up. I had been brought up in the Lutheran Church, been confirmed, like my father and his father and my children. Millions of people believed in Him and now I had him here beside me on this beach, wherever it was.

  “Uhhhhhh…sir? Uhhh…may I ask you a question?” I braced myself for what might come from interrupting what appeared to be a near nap.

  Without opening His eyes, he said “Spill your guts kid”

  I overlooked the fact that I was at least twice His age. I thought it a bad time to criticize my Lord. I knew from church that He had been crucified when he was 31. I’m 61 but whatever, He wants to call me “kid” so be it, I chuckled to myself.

  I began tentatively not sure what protocols surrounded this Man/God…

  ”My family and I have believed in you and worshipped you our entire lives, sir. So please don�
�t get me wrong about this question. But I have traveled quite a bit and met lots of Muslims, Hindus, Buddhist, Jews, etc.…many of them decent people. Moral people. Great people that I wouldn’t mind having as neighbors.” I was picking up steam now, surer of myself as I thought of the many nice people I had met in my travels.

  “What I can’t understand is why if these people don’t believe in you and accept you as their savior they have to burn in eternity forever?”

  I drained the last sip from my bottle of San Miguel beer and leaned back in my recliner and braced myself for whatever was to come. But it was a question that had troubled me all through my religious life. And now I was going to hear the answer from an unimpeachable source. God Himself. I watched as he opened his eyes to slits and spoke.

  “Where did you meet these people you are talking about? These fine people, these decent people. The ones you want for neighbors.”

  Immediately flustered, I looked around helplessly for the invisible waiter to bring some beer for my parched throat. I began to croak an answer. “Well when I visited the country of…uhhhh, then there was the time in that little island country off the coast of uh…uhhhh…that place. And that big hump on the West coast of that uhhhhh…big continent…I forget the name…uhhhhhh…!”

  “Silence! You fool!” He thundered. Now I was shaking. A small stain appeared on the front of my shorts where my bladder had failed under pressure.

  He sat up, turned to me and gave me the darkest look I had ever seen on the face of a man. He glanced down at the stain on my shorts and He brightened immediately.

  “I was just fucking with you kid.”

  He began a belly laugh, He howled with laughter at something that I didn’t think that funny. So loud that the stinking waiter heard and came jogging to our table.

  The waiter arrived at our table with a questioning look on his face. He obviously was troubled by what he saw. I was trembling and near tears and Jesus was laughing his head off.

  “What do you like sirs?”

  I started to squeak out a request. “One beer please.”

  “And what kind of beer would you like sir?”

  “I uhhhhh…a uhhhhh…big brown bottle…uhhhhhhhhh.”

  “I want another bottle of that camel piss you call wine and bring him a bottle of San Miguel”

  The waiter gave Jesus a dirty look for the camel piss remark, which I thought unwise considering who he was glaring at. My fears were borne out as the waiter’s nose began to run. Small rivulets of mucus began streaming down his upper lip from his nose. He took some napkins from our table and quickly whipped it away and it immediately reappeared from his nose. So he just held it there for a moment and then I noticed, the front of his pants began a spreading stain and he began to smell like my kids used to when their diaper was full. Jesus burst into a new gale of laughter as the waiter ran towards the bar at full gallop holding the back of his pants as he went.

  As I monitored the retreating waiter I said “You know Jesus, we might want to move to another bar, service here is bound to deteriorate now” But before I could finish the statement I saw that there was another full bottle of wine, glass of ice and a great big ice cold San Miguel sitting on our table.

  “I uhhhh….”

  “Did you stutter when you were a kid? Anywho, to answer your question, I think this burning all these folks for eternity because they don’t know me or believe in me or whatever. It’s bull shit. But my dad is old school. He says they gonna burn and burn they shall.”

  “But there is simply no justice in that!” I blurted out. “Many Buddhists I know are much better people than many of the Christians I know. How can God be so unreasonable?”

  Jesus sat up in an instant and reached across the table and slapped me hard on the face, rocking my head back. “Don’t you ever question the actions of my Father, you little turd” The crack of His hand across my face dovetailed neatly with a clap of thunder outside my room that exploded in sound and woke me with a cry.

  Chapter 2

  ~

  I shot upright in my bed, with a cry. My breathing was coming in gasps. Very rarely having been bitch-slapped by God, I was mildly panicked I tried to slow my breathing. Rain was hammering on the corrugated tin roof. I could hear the palm leaves scraping as the wind blew them back and forth. Not really a big storm, but lots of wind and rain. I looked around the room. In the half-light, I could see a wall mounted fan, the bathroom light that I always leave on at night, my suitcase open on the other empty bed. Near the bed on the small table was a bottle of Tanduay and a pack of Marlboros. Took a swig of the rum and put a cigarette in my mouth. I lit it and stepped to the window to look out. Many little cabanas dotting the beach.

  “Mine must be one of those,” I murmured to myself. A flash of lightening illuminated a frightening vision for an instant. On the path leading to my cabana was a large man carrying, what looked like a sawed off shotgun, he was accompanied by two tough looking dogs. My breathing that had been slowing, sped up again, my heart hammering. WTF! I looked frantically around the room for a way out. There was only the front door and he was very near the other side of it. I began intensely questioning my actions of late. “What the hell had I done lately to make someone this angry?” It was no use. It would be hours before I even remembered who I was, much less what I’d done. My brain was like a shriveled leg on a polio victim, useless. I began to operate on animal instinct. Whoever I was, I wanted to live. I skipped around the room looking for something to hit him with as he came thru the door. All pointless. In the first place I am an implacable coward, in the second place, the two big dogs would probably be on me before he could even shoot me. I grabbed a chair by the back and returned to the window to peek out. He shined a flashlight at my cabana and then turned away to check on the others. I slumped against the wall and slid to the floor.

  “The fucking night watchman” I groaned. I was ready to cry with relief, but then I thought, where the heck was I that required a guard like that to patrol the grounds? I don’t have time for that right now. Where I was would come to me soon enough. And hopefully who I was. My disorientation problems had worsened over the last couple of years. My travel days were fast nearing an end. But before I delved into that riddle I had to write down the crazy dream I had just had.

  I searched along the wall for the light switch and flicked it on. Filling the room with florescence, I froze anew when an irritated groan came from my bed. OMG, I have a lover here! I hadn’t been awake long enough to consider that possibility. Before she pulled the sheet up over her head, I noticed a pretty nice young body. Maybe I could write about the dream a little later.

  After a sound debauching, I took the girl to breakfast at the Hotel. Her name was Belinda and she was very helpful bringing me up to speed on my recent activities. Very beautiful and 20 years old. Her father worked as a carpenter. She explained to me that we had been communicating on, Date In Asia website, for several weeks. Things were slowly coming back to me. I had arrived at Ferrabril Resort two days before, after driving my motorcycle from Cagayan de Oro (CDO). I didn’t realize I had a motorcycle until Belinda asked me to give her a ride home. I had given her a questioning look and she pointed to the new Honda 125 in the parking lot. I curiously reached into my pocket and pulled out a key for it. That made me laugh. My name was Lawrence and I’m from the USA. She didn’t know which state but I could look at my passport later and figure it out. I followed her instructions and returned her home with promises to meet later.

  As I mounted the bike and prepared to take off, I felt a vibration in my pocket and reached in and pulled out a phone. “Kool, I hope it’s my phone.” The text said “What time are you coming to pick me up for the hot springs today?” From Becky “Hummmmm…looks like I have a date” I texted back to meet me at Action Geckos for lunch. Since it was 10 am now I might as well head up that way. Geckos I remembered was a half an island away from me.

  Before going to Geckos, I returned first to my room at the resor
t. I had to do some thinking. Thanks to Argy I knew who I was and where I was but there remained a large hole in time.

  I’m now in the Philippines but the last memory I have is Africa. I was hit on the head in Ghana and visited the emergency room for repairs to a nasty gash in my head. The date on my phone showed it was November 24th and the year 2013. I knew I had been attacked December of 2012. So I’m missing a year’s activities. I hung my hammock between two coconut trees in front of my cabana and brought my tablet, and lay down for a while. I had to suss this out. I can’t spend too much time out in public without a past.

  I went to my mailbox on my tablet and opened the archives of old emails. I went back to December 2012. I read a few letters and the fog began to lift.

  ~

  I awoke in the hospital emergency room sporting a turban on my head. The African girl who had set up the attack was speaking to the doctor. They both glanced my way while they spoke. Seeing I was awake the girl came over and gave me the sweetest smile.

  She kissed me on the cheek and said “Now you do what the doctor tells you dear. I have to go to work but will be back this afternoon to check on you.” She removed my wallet from my pants hanging on the hook on the wall. “I just need a little taxi money darling” She had her face to me but her back to the doctor as she removed all the bills in my wallet, that I knew contained a few hundred dollars’ worth of Cedis, the local currency. I sit up and begin to protest but I am drugged and can only mumble and drool. I become more agitated as the girl walks out with my money. I never see her again. The nurse pushes me back down in the bed, blood begins to trickle down my face from the turban.

  The Doctor comes over to talk with me while holding a clipboard, which he scans as he begins his questions.

  “So…I hear you have quite a drinking problem Lawrence.” I have given up trying to get someone to stop the escaping girl. I quit struggling to arise and just lay back. “Your wife, Karen, told me all about your years of heavy drinking and falling down.”