Thank you, LJM.

My first and last encounter with Ma’am Letty Jimenez-Magsanoc, or LJM as how she was fondly called by us from the Inquirer, was only last year. I was having my on-the-job training under Ma’am Nancy Carvajal, who worked closely with her before as her secretary. Ma’am Nancy was working on her story of the pork barrel scam, and I was tasked to help her along with another intern and some people from the Research Department. It seemed like an endless task – printing heaps of documents, filing them inside envelopes, labeling each with surnames. Some were shockingly familiar: Revilla, Estrada, Enrile; while some were surnames I’ve never heard of: Ong, Tan, Zapote. The documentation was so tough there were nights when we would leave the office around 1am, also burdening the designated driver, Kuya Gerrs, for he would need to bring us home one by one. There was even an instance wherein we would leave the office by 9pm to attend a work-related function, only to go back after two hours to finish work.

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Eggs for Breakfast (and dinner)

It’s been difficult for Nico and I to find a good place to eat. Although both of us have mastered the art of criticizing food but not cooking, we ought to be picky where we spend our money. The modus operandi of “artisanal” places have been insane, and being millenials (can we still consider ourselves in that category?), known to spend more on food than retirement, we need to make it count.

We decided to try Eggs for Breakfast Cafe in Mambugan, Antipolo. Nico likes eggs, almost to a fault, so this place has automatically caught our fancy. It was funny because when we went there, a wedding reception just finished. It wouldn’t be nice to crash the place wearing a sando and be accompanied by another wearing board shorts, right? The cafe itself only consumes a tenth of the place. It’s situated inside Velada, which, from the looks of it, is an events place for romantic proposals etcetera, etcetera.

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Wabi-sabi refers to the beauty of the impermanent, the imperfect, the rustic, and the melancholy. It derives not from a love of invincibility, youth, and flawlessness but respect from what is passing, fragile, slightly broken, and modest. Wabi-sabi believes that things are always more beautiful for bearing the marks of age and individuality.”

This word seeps through me like tea. Appreciate it more with a video.