Adjusting to an unfamiliar place is never easy. This is especially true when reality is delivered in a relentless sensory onslaught such as Quezon City. As you may have gleaned, Frank and I have been struggling to adjust. Sometimes there seems no respite from ugliness, some of it subtle and frustrating, other bits overt and horrifying.
We have the luxury of taking our stresses out on each other. Each festival of bickering or outright argument has, so far, resolved into a more level-headed recognition that we are each experiencing the same strains. I could not have survived this on my own. It is difficult to see how anyone could. A younger, single man might have sought solace in a range of tempting tonics and strange salves, possibly with favourable effect — but more probably not.
As for us, we are not about to throw in the towel, either on our assignments or each other. The options do come up, though. I am thankful to know our assignments will end long before our relationship does.
Occasionally, I benefit from a fit of grace that allows me to put things in perspective. In these too-rare moments I can see that Quezon City’s overwhelmingness stems not from it being new to me, but from my being new to it.
I will consume it. It’s a problem, particularly in a land where they are constantly putting food in front of you. Wary of this, one of my first purchases here was bathroom scales. They are cheap scales, but I judged them accurate to within five pounds. I knew this because on first use the scales told me I had lost five pounds, and there was no chance of that being true. 
