SABIK

(with apologies to Imelda Papin)

Sabik ako sa 'yo // Bisikleta ko // Halika na sa Ateneo // Iduyan mo 'ko sa aspalto // Sundan ang trapiko // Sa Cubao tayo'y magsalo // Sa tamis ng ating pagsuyo // Daing ng puso ko // Liempong inadobo // Bago mag-alas otso...

Sabik ako sa inyo // Mga ka-opis ko // Nasaan na si monito // At ang mga regalo ko... 

Sabik ako sa inyo // Mga katoma ko // Halina sa ating Templo // Paikutin ang mga baso...

LATAK

Ilang tagay ng white wine, cognac, at gin tonic ang naghatid sa akin ng mga putol-putol na panaginip ng nakaraang dalawang linggo  sa loob ng pitong oras na biyahe mula Marrakesh patungong Doha. 

Salamat kay Ella B. at meron din akong pityur sa Marrakesh bukod sa selfie ko at namin ni Kairos.

Limang oras kaming tumunganga sa Doha sa kahihintay sa gate ng QR 928.

Kaya ginantihan ko ang kanilang red wine, beer, gin tonic, at Irish cream habang walong oras kaming bumabaybay mula Doha pauwi ng Maynila. 

Pati meriendang chicken pie na ayaw kainin ni Riza ay nadamay.

Kaya naglakad ako ng tulog at nag-selfie sa banyo ng eroplano nang di ko namamalayan.   

MARRAKESH SA LOOB NG TATLONG ORAS

Pasakalye

Habang nag-aalmusal kami ng walang kamatayang pancakes at tinapay ay napag-usapan namin ni Riza kung papaanong gugulin ang natitirang oras namin sa Marrakesh. 

AKO: "Mag-aayos na lang ako ng dokumento dito sa hotel".

RIZA: "Punta naman tayo sa isang garden para makakuha ako ng mga pictures na gagamitin ko sa pagpipinta". 

BINBIN: "The garden that has a letter J in its name is beautiful". 

RECEPTIONIST: "I'll ask my friend if he can arrange a short tour for you".

FRIEND NG RECEPTIONIST: "The must-visit sites are the Majorelle Garden, Bahia Palace, and Saadian Tombs. I can take you there for 500 dirhams".


Alas-10 hangggang alas-11 ng umaga sa JARDIN MAJORELLE

Sa halagang 70 dirham ay natuklasan kong ang garden pala ay hindi lamang mga halamang bulaklak at talbusan ng gulay.

Isa din pala itong koleksiyon ng kung ano-anong cactus at puno na matiyagang inipon, itinanim at inaruga ng pintor na si Jacques Majorelle mula nang manirahan siya at makabili ng lupa sa Marrakesh noong 1923.  

Noong 1931 ay inumpisahan niyang ipagawa ang kanyang bahay na pininturahan ng matingkad na bughaw na kung tawagin ngayon ay Majorelle Blue. 

Nabili ng pamosong fashion designer na si Yves Saint-Laurent at ng kanyang jowang si Pierre Berge ang bahay at garden noong 1980.

RIZA: "Bading na bading ang design!".  

Ang mga abo ni YSL ay ikinalat sa Jardin Majorelle nang mamatay siya noong 2008.

Sa matuling sabi, ginawa siyang pataba ng mga cactus kung ang pagbabatayan ay ang intindi ni Komrad Egay sa ganitong pamamaraan ng paglilibing.   

Alas-11 hanggang alas-12 ng tanghali sa EL BAHIA PALACE

Naghari ang mga Alawites sa Marrakesh noong 1669 hanggang sakupin ito ng mga Pranses noong 1912.

Ang Bahia Palace ay inumpisahang buuin noong 1859 ng Grand Vizier [Punong Ministro] ng Marrakesh mula sa ilang magkakatabing bahay, na itinuloy ng kanyang anak mula 1894 hanggang 1908.

Dahil marahil sa nabuo ito mula sa mga pinagdikitdikit na mga bahay at walang plano kaya napakarami nitong pintuan. 

AKO: "Puede ring kaya maraming pintuan ay para mailigaw ng Grand Vizier ang apat niyang asawa at 24 na kabit".

Alas-12 hanga ala-1 ng hapon sa SAADIAN TOMBS

Bago dumating ang mga Awalites ay ang mga Saadi muna ang bida sa Marrakesh.

Dahil bida sila ay may sarili silang sementaryo noon pang 1578 kung saan 60 miyembro ng kanilang pamilya at samutsaring mga alalay ang nakalibing.  

Ang sementeryo ay ibinaon sa limot ng panahon at muli lamang nahukay noong 1917.

At katulad ng mga lumang sementeryo, nagsisilbi na ngayong display ang mga puntod para sa mga mausisang mga turistang katulad namin.  

Pangwakas

'Yan ang Marakesh sa loob ng tatlong oras.

Sana ay naglaan kami ng panahon na makapasyal sa Atlas Mountain at Sahara Desert subalit nasa huli talaga palagi ang pagsisi.

Ang siste, siningil pa kami ng nagsilbi naming guide ng dagdag na 200 dirham para sa paghahatid sa amin sa airport.

Hindi daw kasama 'yun sa tour package.

Gusto naming lisanin ang Marrakesh na may maaliwalas na kalooban kaya binayaran na din namin siya.  

THE WEEK OF THE MINISTERS

Agriculture is dead, the report of the WIM's Executive Committee has been dealt with, while that of the WIM's review and placement is peaking up into insurmountable battle lines as fresh reinforcement beefed up Oxfam's contingent in Marrakesh. 

That's two negotiating streams less and suddenly, I was able to go back to the hotel earlier than usual and therefore discover more of Bab Ighli, including a previously unknown-to-me Moroccan cultural show every late afternoon between the huge white tents and the bus depot.  

It was almost a holiday except that negotiators refuse to budge on their trenches for the review of the WIM until the chairs of the Subsidiary Bodies came into the room with deadlines that stole two nights to informal/s[3x] and the usual huddles, and ruined my plan of watching the Super Moon rise while dining on grilled lamb and cold Casablanca beer at Amani Hotel's La Terraza, the great expectation of which had made me subsist on Skyflakes and Change Chocolates in anticipation of the dinner that never was.

These I reported to the Philippine minister to inform her decisions in the upcoming political process that will hopefully break deadlocks and move the Paris Agreement forward, which unfortunately did not happen, although I did took the floor once to make sure that 1.5 degrees don't eclipse our adaptation aspirations.   

But we did dispose some of Riza's booklets on Asian women farmers although we have to ditch the Vietnamese hat because we are not sure of the protocol that will make ministers wear it.

And I did discover a mother lode of alcohol at Menara Mall's Carrefour which made my week complete with four precious samples of Moroccan brew plus a surprise rack of SMB.

Finally, our last team dinner at Al Fassia Restaurant for a taste of Moroccan home cooking [bread, a Moroccan salad sampler, couscous, tanjine chicken and vegetables, roasted shoulder of lamb] and the house wine, in my honor perhaps as my imminent departure from Oxfam has been announced and the short speeches on my COP work from Tracy and Vicky that came with the dinner, and three Casablancas from what would have been a surprise for me last Tuesday if I have gotten my Skype address right.   

And that was it, the seeming conclusion of my COP life during the week of the ministers, the end of COP 22 for ALDAB [A-dapatation, L-oss and D-amage, A-griculture B-arkada], and an in-session lunch of pizzas, pasta, and a farmer's wife salad to cap that all.  

SUNDAY IN THE MEDINA

It took us an old taxi with dirty seats to get to the Old City where a blind old man is quitely sipping coffee in the bus stop waiting seats as we wait for old friends before I was hustled into an old trick of holding a snake which I have to eventually pay with several old coins while the shadows of the old Koutoubia Mosque's minaret faded from the pavement of old Djemaa El Fna.

Welcome to the Medina, the old heart of the new Marrakech!

Welcome to the labyrinth of Souks where we got invited in just to look and went out buying a thing or two, including silver teapots, leather bags, Moroccan plates, and more through a long walk that took us to Aladdin's slippers and the workshops where I intentionally lost myself as the ladies bargained for more Arabian blouses and shawls, to the Musee de Marrakech and the argan oil and soap we bought that came with a free crystal rock and a Berber lipstick pot.

And that was how ALDAB's lead negotiator facilitated the discussion on the emerging outcomes in the negotiations on adaptation [the NAPs, the AC, and the NWP] and agriculure, on the road so to speak, before she called a break and ushered us to a rooftop tajine lunch where we watch street acrobats perform and the fabled square fill up with trucks, tents, and people.    

The remaining agenda item on loss and damage required another long walk to the tannery, the heady waft of spices pickling our brains so the ladies picked up more leather wallets, African antiques, more Arabian blouses along a really old part of the Old City where magic carpets hung from balconies, riad guests emerged from narrow alleys, and a blue lizard got stuck on the wall. 

It was late afternoon when the meeting adjourned, with synthesis and the way forward easily done over milkshakes, so we parted in front of a fruit juice stand and made our way through the throngs enroute to the Old Square of the Old City, for the snake shows and many other things, and negotiated an 80-dirham cab ride to the sterile environs of the uptown just in time to launch the Asian Kung-fu Panda campaign with delegates from Bangladesh, the Philippines, China, Vietnam, and imprints left by a colleague from Pakistan in attendance.