I can't actually remember the last time I joined a march [i.e. mass action/mobilization].
Was that the one that ended at UP-Diliman, or that where I was photographed tying together the banners of LFS and MASP?
What I'm sure is I was single then with my trademark overused bristling toothbrush sticking from the back pocket of a torn and faded fake Levi's, tubao draped over a blazing batik shirt, threadbare mojo sandals, and no money to buy even a stick of Winston Red.
That was like ages ago.
Until the perks of a yellow badge finally brought me back to the streets where I learned more than what was taught us in the university.
The 5.5-kilometer People's March for Climate Justice took some 4 hours as a massive column of around 20,000 people from around the world got stuck at the Campo de Marte before traffic broke it into platoons that eventually regrouped on the approach to Plaza San Martin.
Lima have not seen such huge march in a long while.
Neither do I.
Without me knowing it, I have arrived at Lima's Historic Center...
Dear Pinky,
I miss you and those cold poorly lit rooms where negotiators fall to sleep, wake, fall to sleep, wake, and fall to sleep again.
Those late lunches and missed dinners seem just a fortnight ago last March in Bonn when the omen of your imminent leave was first made known, then in Bonn again last June where you were finally taken and I have to take refuge with Menique.
I tried taking you back last October for Bonn.
And again, with more effort, for Lima although I know the odds are not in my favor.
Menique would have taken me back but I thought I go with Amarillo first and pray that the first week would be good to me.
I thank my Oxfam Family for making Week 1 happen.
Walls have been torn down and I am grateful, although it took awhile to adapt with Amarillo's preference for crowded computer tables, dead hours and early lunches, and the early trips back to the hotel which somehow inferred that this is a strange COP.
Strange, slow, boring, procedural, and even fetid.
So I thought that perhaps next year in Paris would actually be the better time to reunite with you as I thank Menique for again considering me, except that I would be so strung going badge-less and doing nothing in Week 2 since I can't really afford the $1K 3-day/2 nights tour to Machu Picchu and it's too early to visit them churches.
I thank my Ateneo Family for making Week 2 happen.
I am thankful to the door keeper who allowed me to watch in the CCTV Caballero Juan Hoiffmaister deliver a statement in behalf of the G77 and China.
I am thankful to a Fil-NZ colleague who also came for a Week 2 badge and kept me company for two hours.
And I am thankful to the UN guard who told me to leave because if not for that, then I could have never experienced the crunchy but delicate taste of Lima's Turrones.
In other words my dear Pinky, you are not worth the hassle with this kind of COP.
So I'll be seeing you next year, either as Kulay Rosas or Menique.
That I can promise you.
Truly yours,
El Hombre con el Distintivo Amarillo
PS: I am actually an Atenean by virtue of a certificate on Financing Local
Development from the Ateneo School of Government in Rockwell. At least
that's what the dean told us when we finished the course.
I hate red buses.
Especially double deckers with open tops and guides who speak like recorded voices.
Oh, I hate them all!
You are not allowed to get off, and you have to fight for space to get a photo that turns out to be crap most of the time.
But the Man-with-the Green-Vest did not show up [or I did not see him] at the Parque Kennedy for the walking tour to Lima's Historic Center.
So I reluctantly got pulled to a 10-soles bus tour of the Miraflores District after the padre said "Amen" at the Parroquia La Virgen Milagrosa.
"Here are the ruins of the Huaca Pucllana!" announced the guide who gave us two minutes to gawk and photograph.
The bus whizzed by several churches and left their memories in crappy photos.
And then the Pacific Ocean and imitation Nazca lines and a monument to a kissing couple to an expensive seafood restaurant jutting from the coast and a foggy panoramic view of what can be the Costa Verde to the glass buildings of upscale Larcomar.
Finally, redemption as the guide segued to a winding epilogue across pavements abandoned by a Peruvian national holiday into a late lunch of carnivore proportions.
Thank God for a salad bowl of avocado and whatever.
But I still hate red double deck tourist buses.
