20 October 1999

We were standing on the side of the road in San Jose this morning waiting for a jeepney.  A car drove by us, then stopped, turned around, and pulled up beside us.  There was a white guy in the passenger seat.  "Hey, how are you guys doin'?" he said.  We started having a nice chat with him.  His name is Larry, and he's from New Mexico.  He married a Filipina and is currently staying in Manila.  He's in Leyte today visiting his in-laws. The driver of the car was his brother-in-law, and the other passenger was his father-in-law.  They were impressed when they found out I spoke Waray-Waray.  "But," the father-in-law said, "we are Cebuano.  "Oh, diay?" (Oh, really?) I said.  "Kamao ko og Visaya, gihapon."  (I know Cebuano, too.)  That really impressed him, and we started talking to each other in Cebuano.  He's from Bay-Bay, and his son goes to Visca College, so I'm pretty familiar with that area.  It was cool talking to all three of them.  White guys usually avoid us missionaries like the plague.