It took about a week to adjust to the 13-hour time difference. My first week was spent getting together with old friends and enjoying being in my parents' home again. I went with my dad to his office and, boy, it was reverse culture-shock! The traffic was bumper-to-bumper for just about the next three hours. Vehicles were going four abreast in a 2-lane highway. I figured that the drive should have only taken about thirty minutes, max, if Dayton would have lent Manila its quiet, uncrowded streets. Typical workday morning scenery included crowded buses, jeepneys with passengers literally hanging out from whatever opening was available, and pedestrians pretending they were part of the vehicular traffic, darting in and out among the cars. I was amazed when my dad grabbed a copy of the paper from a young man selling newspapers, cigarettes and candy in the middle of the street just when the traffic started moving again. My dad hurriedly tried looking for some change to pay the guy, but when it became obvious that he couldn't find enough change, he just yelled, "I'll pay you tomorrow!" I guess you could become best buddies with people in that kind of traffic. "Hey!" you yell to the guy in the blue Toyota you've been seeing everyday the past week, "Want to come over for some barbecue?"