THE LAST CURRY WURST

I ate my last curry wurst today, in Marketplatz, from a wagon park along a street corner, near Beethoven's home.

I took my last train ride to Bad Godesber, through Line 63, got out at Max-Loebner-Strasse on the way back, and walked a familiar route to and from the Maritim one last time.

Team PH had the usual delegation dinner at a Thai restaurant on the eve of our last ADP 2.11 negotiating day, before the launching of the CVF's 1.5 degree website the next day, which is our last day, and my last frame at the World Conference Center.

I'm sure I won't miss the crap served as food at the World Conference Center, but will the German beer, a lot, terribly.

Good bye Bonn, you are a whole chapter in my storybook...  

ISANG LINGGONG GOOD-BYE

Walong beses akong bumiyahe ng Bonn mula Hunyo 2011 hanggang Hunyo ng 2015 na siya ring mga natatanging panahon ng aking paninimbahan --- sa Bonn, sa Cologne, sa Trier, at sa Amsterdam na din kung saan ako kumakatok at nagpapaalam.

Ngayon ang ika-9, at maaaring huling punta ko ng Bonn, na pinasinayaan ng isang mangkok na ramen sa RCBC Towers sa Makati malapit sa tanggapan ng German Embassy, ang marahil ay angkop na umpisa ng aking isang linggong pamamaalam sa "small angular city" ni Ludwig van Beethoven.

Ika-12 ng Oktubre 2015

Pang-sampu ko na dapat ito sa Bonn pero binigyan lang ako ng 1-month visa ng madamot na consul para sa huling biyahe ko noong nakaraang Marso; hindi ko na nai-renew dahil may pagpupulong ang mga lahi ni Superman sa Yogyakarta, kaya hindi ko na din napuntahan ang paanyaya sa Marakesh dahil bigla kong kinailangang sumaglit sa Phnom Penh.

Kamanghamangha ang mga obra ni BenCab ng isang mananayaw na siya kong pinagpatayan ng oras sa Yuchengco Museum, kasama ang mga agimat ng Pilipinas, habang naghihintay ng aking 11:30 AM slot sa German Embassy...

Ika-16 ng Oktubre 2015

Napasubo yata ako sa Balkan Breakfast na inakala kong may mas madaming palaman na mozzarella kesa inihaw na baka na pinalamanan pero kabaliktaran pala, at dahil alas-10 ng umaga pa ang schedule ko para tubusin ang aking passport sa Window 10 ng German Embassy ay tumuloy na din sa Starbucks, maghihimagas sana ng kape at blueberry cheesecake, nang matalisod ko sina Val at Baby sa sulok.

Oo, pupunta ako ng Bonn at hindi, pass muna sa Phildel meeting mamayang hapon dahil kailangan kong umuwi ng Nueva Ecija para mag-empake; alam kaya nilang ang lahi ni Spiderman ay Pilipino, at ang RCBC Towers ay gawa ng kanilang pinag-isang mga sapot?

Ika-17-18 ng Oktubre 2015

Ito na nga marahil ang aking Huling El Bimbo sa Bonn.

Kung gayon, nararapat lamang itong maging katangitangi at kakaiba kesa naunang walo bagamat hindi ko inasahang makikisawsaw ang Bagyong Lando na siya na yatang marka ng aming mga paglalakbay para sa UN Climate Talks [Ondoy sa Bangkok, Pablo sa Doha, Yolanda sa Warsaw], at bahagyang nalungkot na dalawang linggo nga palang hindi ko makakasama sa pagbibisikleta si Balong.

Sa pagkakataong ito, sumakay ako ng tren mula Schiphol Airport sa Amsterdam pauntang Bonn.

Kakaiba dahil hindi ko pa nagawa ito maliban sa isang biyahe mula Frankfurt, at katangitangi dahil ganap ko nang naabot ang pagkatao ng pagiging lagalag --- ang lakas ng loob na suungin ang mga walang kasiguruhan at tuklasin ang mga hindi pa nararating, ang dumiskarte kapag hindi sigurado o naliligaw, ang tantiyahin ang mga maaaring maganap at paghandaan ang anumang mangyayari.

Ganyan ako nasakay sa IC 3525 at nakarating ng Utrecht Centraal, sa pagtatanong sa dalawang magandang dalaga na nagkataong nag-aabang din pala sa kaparehong tren.

Ganyan ko nahanap ang Coach 32 at Seat 65 ng ICE 105 papuntang Dusseldorf Hauptbahnhof, makabalik sa tren matapos lumabas sa maling istasyon dahil wala akong nakitang na Platform 15 at 16, at masakay ng EC 9 sa Dusseldorf papuntang Bonn Hauptbahnhof. 

May escort pa akong mga bisikleta, kaya heto na nga marahil ang Huling El Bimbo... 

BONN-ed TO WALK

Bonn, that small city along the Rhine, waxed hot and cold, and I, reinstated but reluctant, endured the rote of a "can do" breakfast at Hotel zum Lowen, a new walking experience along Von-Groote-Platz to Bad Godesberg Banhoff forcefully providing a semblance of comfort, although scared that the silent walking/running/standing/sitting mass in and out Lines No. 16 and 63 has become me, while the familiarity of the Maritim tugged at the heart with each dreaded stop at the Heussallee/Museumsmeile to another culinary torture from that inedible morass, disguised as food, pouring from the tin cans of the World Conference Center, and finally breaking free from it all with a sweet lunch and a dessert of an adaptation goal at Tulpenfeld, and then coming back to it all, almost masochistically, as hog wash for lunch, but at least in the company of old and new friends, and the anesthetic view of downtown Bonn from the 24th floor of the UN Campus.  

I walked lot, pretending to be interested but not, the challenge and excitement of past SBs a mere footnote to what we were once, consoled that the house perched on the hill once again opened its door and pantry to us, propping sagging spirits with beer and wine, with cheese and chips, with the meat I grilled for two hours, with the stories that came and went, finally riding home alone in the bus, walking, throwing myself to the musty smell and warmness of a bed so wide in a cavernous room that is not very Bonn, resigned to the fate of the usual breakfast, the daily grind, the falseness of it all, and the rare sunny moments with former friends who are now family.     

I did not leave Bonn.

I fled from it, walked away with baggage in tow across the cobblestones of Marketplatz, handbag bursting with an assortment of German sausages, killing time with a curry wurst and left-over apple juice, taking the airport bus with six hours left to kill, exploring every level, every wing, every elevator shaft of the Cologne/Bonn Airport, a bomb scare, a piece of the Berlin Wall, an authentic German lunch of grilled blood sausage and mashed potatoes and a tall beer, a sundae at McDonalds, until it's time to leave Bonn, perhaps until another session, perhaps forever.    

All in all, I logged 101,299 walking steps in Bonn, or 80.4 kilometers, or 10,129.9 steps/8.04 kilometers each day, the most of which is the 19,026 steps covering 19.7 kilometers the day I left, fled, and walked away from Bonn...  

ODES FROM BONN

"You see, an eye for an eye
is still an eye for two,
so who wins the stalemate?
both one-eyed jacks do..." (NOEL IRION)

"When life throws you lemons,
you throw back a Molotov. (THE SMART-ASS RABBI)

"Music and words can only do so much

but the situation refuses touch

so visuals will have to be enough

until we can sneak away out of sight…." (UNKNOWN)

TAG DER UNABHANGIGKEIT!

Hoy es el dia de la independencia 116 de las Filipinas.

Que conmemoro en Alemania.

Como exiliado en Bolivia.

Gracias companeros.

Viva Filipinas!

Te ofrezco este plato de pasta en tu honor.

HAIL TO THE THIEVES!

I mean the hail storm that almost ruined our summer ice cream moment at the Da Vinci Café in Bonn should have descended upon the senate's Three Kings of Thievery in an intense, steady, and Category 5 manner worthy of an "adverse effects of climate change" scenario.

I've seen ice pellets from the sky before but falling ice chunks the size of pingpong balls are a new experience, and rare too it seems for the locals who rushed to pick melting souvenirs after the storm vanished as quickly as it came.

That aside, it's emerging to be a pretty boring session on workstreams that denote inaction [NAPs read: country climate change adaptation intentions] and whatever [NWP read: climate change-related knowledge products] with flashes of brilliance in Loss and Damage courtesy of a brilliant lawyer from GenSan, and the familiar acrimony in the negotiations for agriculture.

I did attend a side event with an interesting topic on Carbon Majors [read: polluters must pay!]...

...shot a bird for Usec Fred in the Maritim....

...and toasted two big glasses of beer along the Rhine with colleagues from Oxfam.

THE OUTCASTS OF EBURONI

So it was that three companeros from Las Islas Filipinas --- the Barbado from the Noble and Ever Loyal City of Manila, the Exilio from the Land of Promise, and the Provinciano from a City in Seville --- traveled a great distance for the annual Turnieren where knights and warriors from Lower, Middle, and Upper Earths gathered to bottle aspirations and drop these on the cobblestones of a street called The Convention, only to discover that the parchment containing their credentials was hexed and clobbered to oblivion by hailstones as large as the ego of The Keeper of the Scroll who --- poisoned by the bitterness of its own spite --- has declared war against them --- its own knights and warriors --- and left them with incredible tales of conspiracy and retarded tools of war, which The General in His Labyrinth mercifully picked and handed back to the three companeros from Las Islas Filipinas, and with those fight their battles under the protection of his refuge.

And there are more, them Outcasts of Eburoni, seasoned warriors, accidental Fifth Columnists, turned traitors by the curse of The Keeper of the Scroll, as they can only helplessly watch the Turnieren raged, and watch more as their greatly decimated army heroically rushed into the battle lines, comforted with the pledge that the cherries will taste sweet when they ripe, that the sun will set but will rise again, of the day when their weapons will gleam for the pride and honor and glory of their great country, and the assurance of history that love, truth, and justice will ultimately prevail... 

EBONY, IVORY

Excuse me Paul and Stevie but that refers to my lunch.

Some years back in the same restaurant in Bad Godesberg, I writhed in gastronomic envy at an Australian colleague's black-and-white noodles with salmon and cream while at the same putting on a brave facade of fake contentment on my mistake of a spinach and cheese ravioli. 

That was some itch that took a long time to scratch.

My immense gratitude to the soft-spoken Dr. Bernhard Hoeper of Welthungerhilfe who made this sweet vengeance possible.

And I thank Lando and Heidee too for the interesting coffee-flavored wine --- sublime with cheese but surprisingly compatible with Lapid's chicharon --- and the final noodle dinner from a Chinese deli that somewhat made the hassle of attending a week of frustrating convention cha-cha worth it.

ANG MGA PUSAKAL

Nagampanan ko na ang personal na misyon sa Bonn.

May pityur na ako ng pansit [Pasta Funghi na hapunan ni Jasper sa Vapiano]...

...meron na din akong simbahan [ang Protestant Evangelical Church na dati ko nang napityuran]...

...at napuntahan sa wakas ang kaisaisang Lohiya sa Bonn na nahanap ko sa Google Maps [ang Bond of Friendship Lodge No. 890 na nasa likod lang pala ng simbahan sa itaas].



Masaya na din siguro ang AK dahil kasama na sila sa mga update ko.

May hotel reservation na ako sa Amsterdam at nakapag-check in na din sa KLM.

Tumupad din ako sa mga habilin ni Jowa [maliban sa isang pirasong sausage na tinikman ko sa almusal, dalawang pirasong buto ng sinigang na baboy kina Lando, hamburger sa Base Camp dahil naubusan sila ng veggie burger, ilang basong white wine, at talong bote ng German beer].

Nakapag-pityur din ako kahit papaano gamit ang aking Samsung Galaxy S-4.

At siguro ay nakatulong naman sa pambubulabog sa mga kupal sa negosasyong ito.

Hayan, na-wanted tuloy kami ng CIA at M16.

BONN-ED

Almost not in fact as I was not really sure if I am still included in the credentials, considering the omens that haunted AK's Balai Casa Isabel summit, the departure of Dess to pursue higher learning in Germany, and the disturbing silence from those who have the power to omit and include, which even the assurance of Usec Fred's endorsement was not able to totally allay but was finally absolved by an email from Pebbles' confirming my confirmation while I explore the familiar confines of the zum Adler's tiny rooms in Bad Godesberg, and finally indulging myself to a late lunch of a huge mozzarella-and-tomato pizza whose sheer size extended itself as dinner fare, so much that Jasper's offer of welcome drinks with Lando in the old city was rejected, sleeping at 5 pm and waking at 1 am to sleep again at 3 am while watching BBC's updates on the Malaysia air crash and finally rising at 6 am, a breakfast of sorts, the usual train ride to the UN Campus sitting along the river Rhine, and wining and dining at 68-A Oberaustrasse in Mehlem where my bag of Lapid Chicharon was finally disposed, briefing the HoD on what transpired, and conspiring with the disenfranchised over glasses of German wine, before finally asking for a cab at near midnight.

Those with pink, yellow, blue, and green badges will resume their suspended session tomorrow and I wonder what button will again fall from my trove of Barong Tagalog suites.

Bonn is as Bonn-ed as ever...