I dropped by PGH briefly this morning for an exam. I was glad to catch up with my colleagues and friends, some of whom I had lunch with. We spent a few hours studying at a charming café along Adriatico Street called Café Esso. It was well ventilated, the chairs and tables were of the right height, and it had a distinctly Korean vibe, with the music and all.
A side note:
After three years, I finally took the time to retrieve my diploma from med school, the piece of paper that's framed and displayed inside one's clinic. Behind me in the queue was a lady whose son wanted to get into med school; the son was graduating senior high this year.
"Matagal-tagal pa po siyang matatapos," I said, explaining to her the number of years a person spends to study medicine—around ten years after high school, plus another three or five years, if he decides to go into a specialty. It can get overwhelming, I told her, unless her son really wants to pursue it. I wished her and her son well, and as I walked out of the lobby, I remembered I still haven't retrieved my undergrad diploma in Diliman!