Kumusta or Kamusta?

It began with a speech that unexpectedly drew attention to a familiar part of everyday Filipino conversation: the simple act of asking, “How are you?” In a session discussing an incident in their office, a lady legislator had a complete meltdown because, according to her, some of her colleagues did not reach out to ask how she was doing. "Wala man lang nangamusta sa amin," she said. Nangumusta is a verb form of "kumusta," or "how are you." That brief comment, almost incidental to the larger issue, quickly spread online, and from there, the conversation took an interesting turn.

People began focusing not just on the act of checking in, but on the word itself. Should it be kumusta or kamusta?

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At first, it felt like one of those light, almost trivial debates you’d see online. But the more people joined in, the more it became clear that this wasn’t just about spelling. It was about how Filipinos actually use language in everyday life.

Technically, kumusta is the standard form you’ll find in dictionaries and formal writing. But in everyday life, many Filipinos naturally say kamusta. It’s what shows up in conversations, chats, and casual greetings.  Rooted in the Spanish greeting “¿cómo está?” it didn’t stay exactly the same. It changed, adjusted, and eventually took on a form that felt more natural to Filipino speakers. Somewhere along the way, variations like kumusta and kamusta settled in.

Both are widely used and widely understood.  No one would stop you mid-conversation to clarify which one you meant. There’s no confusion, no misunderstanding. It’s just one of those cases where the “proper” version and the “everyday” version exist side by side.

And that’s really the point: language evolves the way people use it. One form may be more formal, the other more conversational, but neither feels out of place.   

Still, the discussion goes back to something more important than spelling. Whether you say kumusta or kamusta, the meaning is the same: it’s a simple way to check in and connect with family and friends.  Something very important to us Filipinos. 

So in the end, it’s not about choosing the “right” word. You don’t have to overthink it. You can say kumusta. You can say kamusta. Either one works, and most people won’t give it a second thought.
What matters more is to say it and mean it when you do.  Because sometimes, that small question, however you spell it, becomes an act of reaching out and, small as it may seem, keeps that human connection alive.

Happy Easter! He is Risen!

 

My Experience, My Data: Using Autoethnography for Research

So, here’s something I didn’t see coming in grad school: apparently, my own experiences could count as research. I know, it sounds a little strange. I was trained to trust data, reports, and policy frameworks, not my day‑to‑day experience with how I do research. But then I learned about autoethnography, and it completely changed how I think about public policy and how it actually works in real life.

I first heard about autoethnography from my thesis adviser during my master’s program, when we were still trying to figure out how to deal with my research topic for my thesis.  Autoethnography, introduced and promoted by scholars like Carolyn Ellis, Arthur Bochner, and Tony Adams, encourages researchers to use their own experiences as part of the analysis, as long as those experiences are connected to bigger social and institutional realities. At the time, the idea felt a little unusual, but also exciting. It made me wonder whether my own encounters with policies and institutions might actually matter as research material.

Like many researchers, I was trained to value data, reports, and evidence-based frameworks. Numbers, models, and official documents were the tools I trusted most. But when I started working on my master’s thesis, I realized that these tools don’t always provide the depth of a particular issue. Using autoethnography pushed me to pay attention to everyday moments, meetings, group discussions, and even decision-making processes that often get lost in research amd analysis but say a lot about how I incorporate knowledge into my outputs.

Indeed, autoethnography allows a researcher to not only write down their experience but also to take a step backward and look at the data before them, analyzing how their experiences relate to societal norms, values, and issues.

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As I wrote my thesis, reflection became part of my research process. I began asking simple but important questions about my own experiences with research: Why did I use this information rather than that? Why use data from other regions instead of our neighboring countries? What I initially thought were just personal reactions often turned out to reflect institutional issues, like official preferences and other constraints.

The process wasn’t always easy. Writing about my own experiences meant being honest about uncertainty and discomfort. Still, it helped me see policy from another perspective. Abstract concepts suddenly felt real, and my research felt more grounded in lived reality than mere theory.

Using autoethnography allowed me to uncover the different ways I incorporate my knowledge in my area of expertise in my research. Only through careful reflection did I realize these practices existed. This process changed how I approach my job and deepened my understanding of my field.

Looking back, the biggest lesson I took from using autoethnography is this: good public policy research isn’t only about getting the analysis right, it’s also about paying attention to how we do our research, on the things we consider when we make our recommendations. Autoethnography taught me that reflection can be a strength, not a weakness, and that sometimes the most useful insights come from the everyday moments we often overlook.

Discovering UCC Nespresso-Compatible Coffee Capsules: A Must-Try for Coffee Lovers

I usually start my work morning with the comforting hum of my Nespresso machine brewing my coffee.  I’ve been using mine for almost four years now and am honestly happy with it.  While the original Nespresso coffee capsules are generally great, I’m also always on the lookout for capsules from other coffee makers that deliver both quality and character. Recently, I stumbled upon UCC’s Nespresso-compatible capsules, and I have to say they’ve earned a spot in my coffee keeper.

A brief background on the maker.  UCC, or the Ueshima Coffee Company, is a Japanese brand with a long-standing reputation for coffee craftsmanship. When I learned they had capsules compatible with Nespresso Original Line machines, I was curious.  Coffee at local UCC Cafes is far better than that in popular stores. I wanted to try the ones in the capsules to see whether they were just as good.  Spoiler alert, they were, and in some ways, they exceeded my expectations.

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So far, I go for two variants: Espresso Forte No. 09 and Lungo Forte No. 06.

When I need a strong start to my day, I reach out for Espresso Forte No. 09.  It offers a medium-to-full-bodied cup with warm, toasty notes. It is bold without being harsh, and the aroma is inviting, and some people in the office couldn’t help but notice.  It’s perfect for a quick shot or a creamy latte. I usually add oat milk to make a latte because of my lactose intolerance.  If you love a balanced espresso that doesn’t overpower, this one’s for you.  

When I prefer a longer cup, I make coffee with Lungo Forte No. 06. It’s gentler and aromatic, with cereal-like undertones, and a lighter body than the Espresso Forte, and hits the sweet spot.  Brewed as a lungo, it’s ideal for sipping while reading emails or enjoying a quiet moment. It feels like a warm hug in a cup.  Lungo literally means “long” in Italian.  It is made by using more water and a longer extraction time than a standard espresso shot. 

Both variants come in aluminum capsules, which means freshness and consistent extraction every time. They fit perfectly in Nespresso Original machines, so there are no awkward jams or weak crema. 

At around ₱420 for a pack of 10, these UCC offerings feel premium without breaking the bank. You can find them in UCC online platforms and local supermarkets. That’s a big win for us local coffee lovers.

If you’re looking for a high-quality alternative to original Nespresso capsules, UCC delivers. If you like your espresso bold, Espresso Forte No. 09 is perfect for you, but if you prefer a gentler, longer cup, then go for Lungo Forte No. 06. Both variants bring convenience and quality to your daily coffee ritual.

Personally, I love that UCC combines Japanese quality with flavors that feel comforting and familiar. It’s a small upgrade that makes my mornings feel a little more special.

Disclaimer  

This blog is an independent review and is not affiliated with, sponsored by, or endorsed by Nespresso or UCC. All opinions expressed are based on personal experience and research for informational purposes only.

The Black Nazarene: History, Devotion, and a Tradition That Moves a Nation

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Every January, Manila transforms. Streets fill with barefoot devotees, yellow and maroon banners rise above the crowds, and the familiar rhythm of prayer echoes not only in Quiapo but even across the archipelago. The Feast of the Black Nazarene, reverently called Nuestro Padre Jesús Nazareno by his devotees, is more than a religious event.  It is a cultural phenomenon that reveals how faith, identity, and collective memory continue to shape Filipino life.

The Black Nazarene is a representation of a dark-skinned Christ carrying His cross on the right shoulder, wearing a maroon robe. He looks up towards heaven with a pained expression on His face.

The story of the Black Nazarene traces back to 1606, when Augustinian Recollect missionaries brought a life-sized image of Christ carrying the cross from Mexico to Manila. Carved from dark mesquite wood, the image’s color has long sparked myths. One popular belief I heard as a child was that the reason for the dark color of the image was that during its trip from Mexico to Manila, the ship it was on caught fire, and the image was burned, but only on the surface. People considered this a miracle. Later on, I learned that its origins are simpler: the wood it was made from itself was naturally dark.

The image quickly became a major focus of devotion from its first home in Bagumbayan to its later transfer to Intramuros.  In the 1700s, it found its permanent home in Quiapo Church, where it later on survived fires, earthquakes, and even the devastation of World War II. For the devotees, its survival through these almost catastrophic events reinforced their belief that the image is miraculous.

Over the centuries, the Black Nazarene has drawn people from every corner of the country: workers, students, vendors, professionals, families, and pilgrims who carry stories of struggle and hope. The church has become a sanctuary for those seeking healing, guidance, or simply a moment of contemplative surrender to the Poong Nazareno.

The heart of the devotion to the Poong Nazareno is the annual Traslación, held on January 9. This reenactment of the historic transfer of the image from Intramuros to Quiapo took shape at the 400th anniversary of the image in 2006, and has grown into the largest yearly expression of Catholic devotion in the Philippines.  I remember that before that time, the procession was only around the Quiapo district and its environs.  I even had an experience when I was in the area during the procession when there was a rush of people wanting to get near the Nazareno.  I had to take cover along with other people inside a bakery; otherwise, we would be crushed by the surge of devotees.

Millions of devotees join the procession each year, many walking barefoot as an act of humility and solidarity with Christ’s suffering. Others reach for the ropes of the andas, a wheeled platform heavily adorned with flowers and lights bearing the image, and pulled by devotees.  They believe that even the slightest touch of the ropes can bring healing or protection.

Even as I write this post, the celebration is already underway, and crowds are already gathering at the Luneta Park for Masses and other devotional activities.  There is even a nine-day novena prayer in Tagalog available from the Hallow app, which I pray after the Angelus. The novena includes the hymn Nuestro Padre Jesús Nazareno, composed by National Artist of the Philippines, Lucio San Pedro, to honor the image.

from hallow.com

The Pahalik, which takes place a day before the Traslación, is an act of devotion where pilgrims and devotees, some coming from far provinces, line up to touch, kiss, wipe with a handkerchief, or just pray before the life-sized statue of the Black Nazarene.   The scale of participation, often reaching millions, reflects not only religious fervor but also the deep cultural roots of this tradition. Devotees would line up for hours, yet they patiently wait and consider this part of their sacrifice and an expression of their faith.

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The enduring devotion to the Black Nazarene reveals something essential about Filipino spirituality: faith is not a passive act. It is embodied, communal, and resilient. Some experts theorize that the Poon’s dark complexion forms a rich connection to the devotees.  Here is a Christ who looks familiar, who feels close, who understands the weight of human suffering.

In a country shaped by colonial history, natural disasters, and social challenges, the Black Nazarene stands as a symbol of perseverance. Every year, the Feast acts as a reminder that hope is not abstract; it is lived, carried, and shared.