A spicy beef and vegetable dish and unsweetened pineapple juice at M.'s cafe. The place was full, mostly with compound tenants, but I managed to squeeze in. Ronel arrived from Zambales to pitch in as a waiter.

A finger measure of sangria.

I feel cozy and safe when the cafe is bustling with patrons at the south end of our house and the compound security guard is stationed for the night at our east end.