MANGOS! MANGOS! MANGOS!

 MANGOS! MANGOS! MANGOS! Who wants a mango? How about you old man Cecil? What about you little orphan Lewis? Mangos for everyone and their mother. Crackity Jones here once again my faithful flock proclaiming my great love of the yellow-orange fruit called the mango. Mmmm just saying it is like music to the ears. Say it with me now children Manggggggggooooooo.

The mango fruit is found in abundance in the Philippines, but only here in the gardens of the BVC do we find the Mango Sultan Chele Porfuan. Legend has it that Chele was conceived under a mango tree while two lovers ate the sensual fruit thus giving Chele his natural affinity with all things Mango. He is seldom seen anywhere else in the fortress than the garden. He eats, sleeps, and even writes Poetry, mostly about mangos, all under his beloved fruit bearing trees. A sample

Oh succulent life giving orb

Yours is the bounty which I do adore

Whether squeezed to a juice or plucked fresh from a tree

I eat your nourishment right to the seed

From the shade of you boughs I will never retreat

The secrets of your beauty I shall forever keep

Till that final day caught in deaths throws

I shall ever praise the glorious Mango

I know what you’re thinking. Is this guy’s skin different because of all the mangos he eats? And the answer is yes, yes it is. With the amount of sun he gets combined with the orange and yellow you get a beautiful color that is like a mix between caramel and that orange ice cream popsicle flavor. What’s it called? Is it Funsicle? We’ll go with that. Anyway in my wanderings around the home base I have begun to chat up sweet Chele on the adventures of his life. I like to catalogue others adventures as well so as to keep up with the ever changing world. Initially it was hard to get Chele to talk about anything except how much he loves mangos. After sometime though I was able to get him talking about how he came to the BVC. You see while Chele loves the fruit he also is an adept scientist and believes that many cures can come from the mango. His main experiments are focused in eternal youth and I must say he is doing well. Granted he has to eat a mango every half hour or so to keep it up (he has an iv of mango juice at night) he doesn’t look a day over 35 and him being at the ripe old age of 215. Granted about 170 of those years were in the BVC with his mangos. Being as I have travelled this earth for about half a millennia I was happy to be able to talk about the old issues that he missed like; When do you think the Russian Royal Family will take their country back from the Bolshevik’s, Have you heard of this new stuff called toothpaste, and of course what’s up with General Burnsides’ facial hair?

These conversations continue where they left off every time I enter the garden and my knowledge of mangos is quickly becoming vast. Other than that life is found a comfortable pattern here, our BVC warriors are continuing their driver towards perfection, Paco and I are dining with Senators and Judges at late night lounges, and the lizards are singing us to sleep with the sweet melodies of Billy Joel and Neil Diamond.

Sweet Caroline Bah! Bah! Bah! good times never seemed so good, so good, so good… 

The Beatles were Right

Today was a day off from work dear followers and I was left to idle. Idleness though is not something I am overly fond of. Sure I don’t mind a good think every once and a while, I even had a lovely stroll around the battlements of the BVC fortress. It is truly a wondrous structure, but the city of Manila is so built up that I can’t actually see a whole lot around me. I spent some time in the library looking for any information I could on Don Diabolico. Sadly my search turned up little except that the Don had a terrible case of acne as a teenager. It was clear that the BVC held the documents on him secret, most likely in a safe that can only opened by that curious key that Tarcisio wears like a necklace.

            So with nothing else to do I sat in my head for a while. Until it came to me, one of the cultural phenomena of the Philippines that I felt so confused about. Having adventured across much of Europe and America and seeing its wondrous structures and meeting its generally friendly people as well as the commercial power they both hold, I knew that the Philippines was a product of the two cultural powerhouses. Something was missing though, something vital. It was whilst sitting and thinking that I finally came upon the answer. The Philippines lacks a drinking culture.

Alas how could I have been so blind? Something that is so vital in my life slipped from underneath my watchful eye. I go for days at a time without a drink at my lips. Readers be advised I am not an alcoholic, I am an alcohol appreciator. From my days riding along with Sir Gawaine in Scotland visiting the various whiskey distilleries and saving fair maidens from themselves to brewing the master beer with the Guild of Holy Inebriation. The Guild consists of a Trappist monk from Belgium known as Br. Hans Maus, a crazy Dutchmen called Lenny, a pair of Irish/English twins called Mic and Mac, a lovely Czech girl named Maria, and the Currator from Bavaria Germany Helmut Biegmeister. Together we invented the perfect beer that could save the world but before the recipe could be sent out it was intercepted by Don Diabolico and destroyed. The Don knew that world peace would mean the end of his power monopolizing. So now the Guild tires day and night to try and perfect the brew once again while I track down the Don.

            So back to my troubles in Manila. Being unable to get to a shop to purchase the “water of life,” I have been forced to recreate a contraption I devised while on my tour of the International Space Station. Basically I’m moonshining in my room. Tubes and pots and fumes abound all solar powered as I don’t want the energy bill to give the BVC any suspicions of my actions. I learned how to rig up the contraption from MacGyver. No not the television personality, a crazed Scotsman with a penchant for the unorthodox, especially when it comes to alcohol making. I had tried to get him in the Guild but he doesn’t exactly work well in groups. He does make one hell of a drop o’shine though.

           

It surprises me that the members of the BVC are not fond of the drink. I have always believed that a man who doesn’t drink is afraid of himself, or at least of showing the world a different side of himself. Now I don’t believe that the alcohol influenced side is a person’s true side, but then again I don’t believe any side is a person’s true side. Which is why the Beatles were right when they said “Everybody’s got something to hide except me and my monkey.” And without the help of my dear chimp Aloysius, I fear that I am the only one not hiding a thing.

Back to the chemistry dear children I can smell the distillation and of course Cheers…

American Culture is an Unstoppable Bounty Hunter

Greeting feverish readers here’s a little chicken soup and vitamin C to calm that fever. Adventure is not only my business; it’s my passion, my muse, my middle name, my love child with Lady Gaga. Ok that last one’s not true, our love child’s name is Lola not Adventure. I am now at the two week point of the trip and a daily routine is finally taking shape. The BVC has finally given me given me a class schedule. I will be lecturing the youth on my favorite subject, my adventures. Naturally the students are chewing at the bit in anticipation for the class, although that may be an offensive phrase as I will be teaching two centaurs. Oh well we deal with new challenges everyday and I suppose adding half-man half-horse public correctness to the list is not the strangest thing I have encountered. An aside our proud Red Lions have come one competition closer to becoming island champions.

Now back to my aptly named title for this post. My love of adventuring is motivated by a desire to experience the new and in some ways avoid the old. Most recently I spent a good deal of time in America which happens to have its culture permeate almost every other culture I have recently visited. The Philippines is no different. Paco, my faithful friend, has but one great weakness and that is for American Hip-Pop music. From T.I. to Katy Perry he loves it all. It is here where I will introduce the personification of the Bounty Hunter that is American Culture which in this current form is known as SUPAFEST 2010. What it is, is a 4 act concert celebrating the music that Paco loves so. As you can guess I have a soft spot for the requests of Paco and when he invited me to the show I begrudgingly acquiesced. It was when I was informed of who the performers were that I realized that my hope to avoid the old had in part failed. The show was to feature none other than; Sean Kingston, Kelly Rowland, Flo Rida, and the master of Auto-Tune, if you can call it that, T-Pain. I sighed a sigh so exasperated that some might mistake it for a death gasp. Yet I remained true to my word and accompanied the giddy Paco.

I must confess that some of the show was enjoyable with some of the acts actually showing some talent. I will not tell you which but leave you to research or experience yourself. Having enjoyed myself in some fashion is something I am still trying to come to grips with. Nonetheless this in its own way has proven to be an adventure which I will find a way to treasure along with all the rest. Who knows maybe even some of my students were at the show. It will give us a jumping off point.

And what do you know your temp is finally coming down, until next time…