A rusty bus pulled out of the south bus terminal in Cebu. I threw myself in a chair in the front row and placed my bag in the aisle. This was a southbound local bus, windows wide open and filled to the brim with Filipinos. A yellow beam of sunlight shot through the windshield as the suburbs of the second largest city in the Philippines sprawled outside.As we watched the last of the day disappear in a haze of smog and honks, a raspy voice next to me inquired “Where you going?”. The elderly gentleman smiling at me was a retired police officer in Cebu going to visit his daughter in the south. He had that calm look that comes with experience, and stories that come with age. As we honked our way through the winding roads of Cebu, we had long conversations in broken english on almost every imaginable topic.