RIZAL DAY RUCKUS

In honor of Rizal day, I give you not one, but two versions of the Philippine national anthem. Spot the solid 9 on the unintentional comedy scale:

(A) the LLDD's nephews . . . .

. . . or, (B) this gem

The correct answer, of course, is "B". I'm sorry, I know the makers meant well, but at all the moviehouses I've been to where this version is shown, the crowd breaks out in uncontrollable giggling around the 50 second mark. Maybe its the "full-emote" acting, maybe its the flaring nostrils, maybe its the megamoussed hair, can't really tell. I won't know for sure until I show up at the Department's next flag ceremony singing the anthem in a white unbuttoned shirt and tight tank top with wind machine in tow.

(And you'll forgive my nephews for flubbing some lyrics. They're in pre-school for crying out loud! What's Christian Bautista's excuse?)

That's right, baby boy. I'd hide, too

IN WITH THE NEW YEAR, OUT WITH THE OLD BATCHMATES

Most Philippine Christmas office parties are fairly predictable: lame emcees, poorly rehearsed dance numbers, cheesy door prizes, awkward silences after jokes about the size of the annual bonus. Not that there's anything wrong with these, but we're a long way away from the alcohol and mistletoe induced party debauchery depicted by Hollywood (and those have to be accurate, right?)

Christmastime at the foreign service home office has an added poignancy to it. Because personnel deployments usually take place at the start of the calendar year, Christmas parties often also double as despedidas. This makes for some pretty emotional gift-giving, especially when you realize your Secret Santa didn't get you anything and just left for a six-year foreign assignment.

(you can run Secret Santa, but I will find you...)

Last Christmas, two batchmates left for their postings: ORATE EAR to Kuwait and DRAGON LEE AX to Australia. I take it from their subsequent infrequent communications that they're very busy and happy where they are . . . or are just embarrased and want nothing to do with the rest of the batch anymore =)

This year, I gave warm season's greetings send-offs to two other batchmates, former seatmates and fellow U.P. lame lawyers. . .

. . . MASCARA ZERO PIT, who's off to Guam (Lord help the Baywalk Bodies if they try anything there again on her watch). . .

. . . and ABHORRENT ROTTEN ODD ASS, who's off to Israel (and enjoyed his last Papa-pose)

See ya around y'all! Can't wait for your Christmas cards!

IT'S SUNDAY, I MUST BE IN KUWAIT...OH WAIT, I'M HEADING HOME...NOPE, I'M STAYING...HOLD ON...

It was all just a blur.

First, I’m put on standby for an important trip to Kuwait. Then I’m told to cancel my booking. Then I learn at the last minute that my trip would push through. Then I find out I’d be flying in and out for just a few hours. Then, when I join everyone onboard the return flight and wait for takeoff, the pilot announces we’d all be staying overnight and should get off, pronto.

(pause while I gasp for breath)

In the end, it was all worthwhile as we accomplished our mission and headed home happy.

But the things we had to do that extra night with no spare shirts, socks or underwear – we shall never speak of again.

I arrive very early morning and crash at the embassy. My eyebags are set on “extra puffy”.

The Filipino community got the memo on dark suits.



That's my batchmate RO with the flowers. She hasn't finished cadetship yet, but she's been posted for a year now, and is doing a heck of a job as a kick-ass officer in Kuwait. Suck on that, "Institution!"

Work done, some long lost batchmates have just enough time to get together for a quick photo before takeoff (random meetings around the world among batchmates will be an increasingly frequent -and poignant- moment in the near future, as we start getting deployed to far off places in the coming months; it’ll be like a long running sitcom getting cancelled, and the cast later making special appearances on each other's new shows; or a Spice Girls reunion)

"This is your captain speaking. Our estimated departure is…um...sometime tomorrow. Y'all have to get off for now. But, hey, help yourself to the moist towelletes on the way out."

For the impromptu meeting with the Filcom, our hosts are kind enough to lend us one of their palaces (they had a few)

Next day. The people at the airport are probably saying “Are you guys still here?!” =)

"LL" STANDS FOR "LOVES LEVI'S"

I have a confession to make.

I love Levi's.

I love them for their comfort, style and durability.

I love them for their timelessness.

I love them because I like saying "rivets".

I love them even though they launched their "shrink-to-fit" 501's in 1984 of all years (Seriously, if you're a skinny self-conscious kid in the 80's, and you need your soiree-wear as Bagets tight as possible, you don't have time to wait for your jeans to come out of the wash and shrink! I need to moonwalk, now! Really, you couldn't have launched them during my '90's thug-gangsta phase?)

I love their naughty/sexy ads. None of those annoying Gap dancing wusses.

I love that according to their website, in the 1930s, consumers complained that the metal rivets on Levi's back pockets tended to scratch furniture, saddles and car seats, so they redesigned the way the pockets were sewn, placing the rivets underneath the fabric. That's social responsibility right there, people.

As a guy, I also gotta love them for taking zippers away from where my "business" is. I can only imagine the events that inspired this.

Yes, I love Levi's as much as a man can love a centuries-old company founded by Bavarian immigrants without violating the laws of nature.

And I love them wholly, freely, unconditionally.

It has ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to do with this:

(next week: I profess an unhealthy lust for event organizers De La Salle Graduate School of Business, venue Aruba Bar [Mall of Asia], and secondary sponsors Bayantel Wireless, Chalk magazine, E-Aji Potato Chips and Super M Strawberry-flavored yogurt drink)

LAME LAWYERS OF THE WORLD . . . UNITE!

You've heard of a "Googleganger"? It's someone well-known who happens to share your name on the web, so that any time people try to Google you, its the other person who pops up. It's a real problem for people trying to establish themselves online but who have a Googleganger who's far more popular. Or a pornstar.

I already gave up using my real name on the web because my Googleganger is some hotshot skateboarder with a gazillion fansites. I'd use my complete name, but it rearranges into "Good! Amaze Monumental Chunk!", and I can't handle an anagram telling me I'm fat. I just can't.

So I had high hopes for "Lame Lawyer / Dorky Diplomat." Like I said in my first blog post, how many of us could there be? (even including Warren Christopher)

Imagine, then, the sick feeling in my stomach when I recently discovered there was a ... (gasp!) ... "www.lamelawyer.com"

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!

Not only does it exist, it kicks the LLDD's ass. Consider:

*** Its avowed purpose: to expose the seedy underbelly of that notorious global hotbed of legal shenanigans. . .um. . .Adams County, Illinois. Don't take my word for it, hear what lamelawyer has to say:

"Here you will find legal info pertaining to issues of practicing attorneys and how some of the selected few have a tendency to play nice with each other and cover for each others misconduct while bilking their clients with bogus legal fees. This site is for cases and situations where lawyering itself, and a lawyer's questionable billing practices may be at stake or thrown 'under the light'. Additionally, this site is owned and operated by one that embraces what others fear."

Right there, I'm screwed. I do not embrace what others fear. I FEAR what others fear! Those others are usually on to something!

*** Not only does lamelawyer have an FAQ, it's far more entertaining than anything I have ever written. A sample:

Q. Why are legal terms in latin?

A. The Roman empire set the framework for modern law as we know of it. Latin was the language of the Romans and at one time they wanted everyone to think and act as they did. In some degree, if you practice law, you're thinking as a roman did. That's one of the reasons that today's lawyers love throwing latin phrases around in an attempt to make themselves look "smart" and to possibly get you to think like they do.

My finding is that using and learning latin really helps in a mnemonic fashion to "hotkey" legal terms. For instance, one word can represent one sentence or phrase as It's a very succinct language in nature, and seems to come in handy when you're pressed for time (in a foot dragging legal system). It levels things out "time wise". Or it can make getting your point across an efficient process. For example, try saying "toy boat" three times really fast. Then say it in latin three times "logica navis navis". See? It does make communication easier and more efficient. Try it in the drive thru sometime.

(I did try it in a drive thru! All the girl in Jollibee had to say was, "Sir, willing to wait?")

*** Lamelawyer says there are 127 lawyers in Adams County. That means the site has at least 126 more readers than I do! (although to be fair, lamelawyer admits "the number is subject to change due to the aging population of those licensed to practice")

So case closed. I ain't messing with lamelawyer. From now on, I'm just LLDD (like Kentucky is now KFC). If he comes looking for me, tell him ego sursum lex pro skateboarding*

(* I gave up law for skateboarding)

IT'S FRIDAY, I MUST BE IN NEW YORK

Ah, New York, New York. The city so nice, they've sent me there twice.

(alternate lame pun opening: "Are U.N.?")

I’ve actually been to New York City more than twice before, but I still have to warm up to the whole "Capitol of the World" thing they’re pushing. The city has its unique appeal, of course, but so does D.C., Seattle, Chonqing, Ha Noi, Singapore, Cebu, Manila and every other place I've trolled. In fact, I feel kind of bad for those too-cool-for-school New Yorkers who feel they're at the center of the universe, but who haven't actually seen for themselves a fraction of the rest of the world out there. They literally don't know what they're missing.

What New York City is is BIG, and what it has is overpowering P.R. Somehow, the city is able to stamp "Best/Only in New York" on stuff you can find elsewhere - heck, they might even be BETTER elsewhere! Bright lights, Big Skyline? I dunno, Central Hong Kong is pretty damn good. Fine/classical arts? They're more at home in Rome. Billion-dollar deals and rockin' music scene? London*, I say.

(*hey, whaddya know, I was right)

On the flip side, New York is able to wrap the "charm" label around things other cities would rather not have, or simply find...um...disagreeable. You name it. Old, steamy subway? Charm! Suffocating streets and sidewalks? More charm! Overpriced everything? I'm telling you, charm! Trying-hard trendsetters? Charm, dammit, CHARM!

Then add an overconcentration of real and wanna-be artists/actors/writers/reporters/fashionistas etc. letting you know (and reinforcing each other) that a non-New York life is a life less fortunate, and - bam! - "Live! From New York! The Greatest City in the World."

To be sure, there’s nothing wrong with some hometown pride if you’re a true New Yorker. Your sincere spirit is, in fact, a joy for others to experience. On the other hand, if you’re acting all high and haughty, and you’re just a transplant who's seen too many reruns of Friends, Felicity, and Sex in the City . . .

Thing is, I've talked to dozens of lawyers and diplomats - Philippine and foreign - who've actually seen, worked, LIVED the corners of the globe (New York included). There is absolutely no consensus from them that ANY city could, or even SHOULD, make a play for the "Greatest" tag. Even those posted at U.N. HQ want to get to their next assignment and adventure. They’ve just seen so much that they know there is still so much more to see. And they would find it unfair to be limited to - or by - New York.

New York loves it some New York. Fine. Why not? It’s when there’s little regard for anything non-New York, when there’s no accounting for Big Apples-to-Oranges differences, that I don’t heart NY as much.

Yes, it’s a nice place. I know. I get it.

You've told me twice already.


Before we start working, we get to shrug off some jet lag over the weekend by driving through parts of upstate New York, Massachusetts and Vermont. We stumble on the postcard pretty scene above when our GPS glitches and we make a wrong turn.

We left Manila right after local government elections. We arrive in the U.S. during - you guessed it - local government elections! (although in the States, the candidates don't set their jingles to Elvis or "The Spaghtetti Song")

Autumn in Vermont was as beautiful as advertised. The shivering LLDD . . . not as much.

The Bennington Memorial. Apparently, you want to see a hundred-foot century-old stone obelisk battle monument, by golly, y'all head on over to Vermont.

Gorgeous scenery all around, although there were also abandoned houses and rusting cars every so often. Plus, it was so cold out we literally went miles without seeing another living creature . . .

. . . and would occassionally pass through neighborhoods that - while pretty - in the fading light brought to mind every Stephen King novel ever made. Needless to state, we high-tail it back to the city before dark (buck-buck-braaawwwwkkk!)

Ah, yes ... back to the safety of a diplomat's residence, sipping Yoo-Hoo.

Russian Tea Room. Wonderfully trippy place. Basement has a great display of ornate Faberge eggs and those Russian dolls-in-dolls. First floor is covered in blood red walls and furniture. Second floor (above) is accented by . . .

. . . a golden tree with egg-shaped lanterns, on one end . . .

. . . and on the other end, a clear plastic giant bear filled with water and two goldfish on a sloooooowly revolving platform. The movement was so imperceptible you could stare at it and not notice anything . . . but look down to finish your soup . . . suddenly . . . aiiiiigh!!! . . . THERE'S A CLEAR PLASTIC GIANT BEAR FILLED WITH WATER AND TWO GOLDFISH ABOUT TO JUMP ME!!!

Strand's, a more hip, less franchise-y type bookstore. I could've stayed in this place for hours, except some particularly loud NYU students came in and ruined it for everyone (probable the same guys who'd sell their vote for an i-Pod).

Rockefeller Plaza. Just not the same without Al Roker.

The Waldorf-Astoria (with St. Bart's in the foreground). I was a bit underwhelmed by the Hotel. I know its old, but I didn't get much sense of grandeur or history. One of my bosses points out it's where J-Lo shot Maid in Manhattan. Um . . . that didn't help. At all.

Few things in Times Square are really that impressive, however (Part I) . . . the sight of this limo successfully parallel parking into a space I'd swear two Volkswagens wouldn't fit into literally made us stop in our tracks and applaud.

Few things in Times Square are really that impressive, however (Part II) . . . when I saw this high definition giant-jumbotron above a two-storey M & M store, well, I just took a knee and wept.



Few things in Times Square are really that impressive, however (Part III) . . . chicks sure dig motorcycle cops lined-up in their double-breasted leather jackets.

Down to a couple days of serious work. Fortunately, the U.N. had a couple of cool lounges like this one all around where people could hang with their, you know, diplomates.

I try to memorize all the past UNGA Presidents (in case its on the final exam). This is just outside the Assembly Hall, and right before I have a most embarassing experience. As I'm seated in my place near the front waiting for the Philippines to address the body, I get this weird taste in my mouth. I'm thinking it must be something I had for lunch, or an aftertaste of my vitamins, so I just shrug it off. After a couple of minutes, I get this wet feeling on my fingers, and notice I got ink all over my hands. Not a big deal, I say. I'll just wipe it off with some paper. Then it hits me: I like to chew on my pens and pencils . . . egad, I must have smeared ink on my face too!!! I try to bolt for the bathroom, but then the Philippines begins its statement, and now I have to sit in front of the U.N. General Assembly for 10 minutes with ink all over my face! If nothing othing else, I confirm that other-people-looking-at-you-and-using-their-index-finger-to-motion-whisking-the-side-of-their-mouth-and-cheek is indeed the universal signal for "Dude, you've got some crap on your face."

Security Council chamber. Never thought I'd ever get to set foot in this place. The room really does have a weight-of-history feel to it. And I'm fascinated by the mural looking down on everything: it didn't seem European, could be Latin, and I'd swear there were some Amorsolo qualities and life-of-Rizal themes in it. Remind me to Google the thing.

The LLDD hangs with some decidedly NOT lame legal eagles. I gained 20 IQ points just being in this picture.

After the last day's hard work, I get to watch "Cyrano!" (hehehe). Kevin Kline was really good - he had the audience hanging on his every word, gesture and nuance. Jennifer Garner, on the other hand, was relatively flat (in fact, I didn't recognize her onstage until 20 minutes in; and she wasn't even the one covered by a giant prosthetic nose!). Still, I'm lucky. Just a week later, Broadway goes dark.

You tell someone the above picture was taken in any other city, they'd probably say "ewwwww." You tell them it was actually taken in the NY subway, they'd shift and say "awwwww, it's New York." Heck, they might even pass it off as some sort of street art.

And finally, Grand Central Station (with the Chrysler building in the background). Long story, but I got left behind the theater and had to take the subway back to the hotel. As I exit the station and cross the street, I happen to pass next to a police van with a smashed window, with broken glass all over the street. I didn't even really notice it until a Michael Rappaport type guy comes up to me and yells "DID YOU HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH THIS?" I shrug, and just keep on walking. As I'm walking away, I look back and see the guy still glaring at me, nodding his head upward and mouthing "What? What?"

So charming.

SPORTS / STADIUM PATRIOTISM a.k.a. MANNYS BEING MANNYS

One of the chores of an FSO is pulling watch duty on a weekend. No one really wants to go to the office on a Saturday and a Sunday, but something's always happening somewhere, and someone has to stand guard. Every duty officer, of course, HOPES for a quiet, crisis-free shift, but when that happens . . . well . . . you can only read so many minutes of meetings before you go cross-eyed.

I got one such duty last weekend. Fortunately, my lunchbreaks were punctuated by two great sports moments. On Saturday, I caught Manny Ramirez hit a walk-off homer in game two of the playoffs between the Sox and the Angels. Now, I don't follow baseball that much, but even I figured the game wouldn't go past that at-bat. I just KNEW. And sure enough, Manny obliged with a crushing homerun. I liked that Manny just stood there with both hands in the air for a few seconds, like my baby nephew when we sing "I Have Two Hands." Utter joy from the fans, too.

Then on Sunday, I got to see Manny Pacquiao destroy Marco Antonio Barrera. I, like I guess every other Filipino, drop everything for a Pacquiao fight, not just for the boxing itself, but because it's the only thing the Philippines has in what I call "Sports / Stadium Patriotism." These are those sporting events that somehow just become so big, they bring whole countries to a halt and entire peoples together. You know you're entering an SSP moment when, whether you're a fan of the sport or not, you don't talk about anything but the upcoming match, yet you're also hyper-conscious of saying the wrong thing that might jinx the home side. You're suddenly a Know-It-All AND a Babbler. And everyone else in the country is just like you.

The beauty of SSP is that it can't miss in its unifying effect. Win, and everyone celebrates. Literally the entire country goes Yeeaaahhhh!!!! at the same key moments of the game. Lose, and everybody is still one . . . in whining. It was the stupid manager's fault! The ref screwed us! We were distracted by Britney losing her kids! No one really agrees who to blame, but at least there's national consensus: we have to blame SOMEONE.

Other countries have regular doses of SSP, usually through Football. Unfortunately, that sport's not working for us right now (although I got a small taste of what unity-through-the-beautiful-game must be like, when the LLDDL and I watched a women's SEAG match, and the packed stadium absolutely erupted when the Philippines scored early; too bad it was our only goal in a 1-5 loss). The Philippines has basketball, but most of the recent international tournaments have been played too far away to register in the national consciousness. Our success at other sports during the last SEAG was great (I won't forget skipping cadetship with my batchmates to go to the raucous arena next door and watch tae-kwon-do, highlighted by a knockout win by a Filipina jin where the opponent totally crumpled to the floor after taking a perfect spinning, flying stomach kick), but we'll have to wait at least 10 long years before we get to host - and feel that sort of SSP - again.

Which brings us back to Pacquiao-Barrera II. Hyped no end. A genuine national treasure involved. An opponent from a country that must hate us by now for kicking their boxing ass on a regular basis. You certainly don't need me making any suggestions how to make the whole thing a better SSP experience.

Oh, alright.

1) Only foreigners should refer to Manny as "Pacman". Pinoys should always call him Pambansang Kamao. It's more nationalistic, and let's face it, Kamao sounds hard ass. (Mexicans already properly address him as "Republica Enemy No. 1")

2) There has to be a referendum on Pacquiao's entrance music. I'm thinking just loop the opening of Black Eyed Peas' Bebot. Imagine thousands jumping and screaming "Filipino! Filipino! Filipino! Filipino!" My second choice would be that part of Bamboo's song that yells "Hoy! Pinoy Ako!" My 1,742nd choice would be "Boom-Tarat-Tarat".

3) By all means, trot out our best singers for the National Anthem. Our singer owned Mexico's singer (although it's really cool when Mexicans hold their palms and forearms horizantally across their chests during their anthem). The U.S. singer, meanwhile, treated the Star Spangled Banner like her American Idol audition piece. I've said it a thousand times, a National Anthem is not supposed to be an opening act! Just sing it!

4) We also need a better sporting chant. When the fighters came out for round one, Barrera fans yelled "Me-hee-co! Me-hee-co!" Very inspiring (if I were Mexican). Pinoys, on the other hand, had "Man-ny! Man-ny!", and nothing else. "Manny" worked this time, but what if we have to cheer a team, or a golfer named Luzviminda? During the SEAG women's football match, they tried out "Go RP, Go RP, GO!" Ummm ... I don't think the opposing side understood, much less got intimidated by, "arpee". I propose co-opting the U.P. cheer and turn it into "Go! Re-pub-li-ka! Ng Pee-lee-pee-nas!" Catchy, and even highlights the fact that we're a Republic (while subtly digging at athlete factory countries that aren't =)

There are a lot of up and coming Pinoy boxers (the next wave of great Filipino fighters) on the way, another SEAG is approaching in Thailand this December, and "Desperate Housewives" has rallied Pinoys like never before. I think we'll have a lot more chances to improve our SSP in time for the next Pacquiao fight.

Either that, or wait for my next weekend duty.

DESPERATE DIPLOMATS

That dis on "Desperate Houswives" will die down soon enough. I'm just glad Philippine officials - including one of my former bosses at the home office - went 'round the world rapid response on them and fired back with diplomatic versions of "Oh NO you diduhn't!"

(Throw down, Ma'am Mary Jo! THROW DOWN!)

Besides, if you're one of the show's writers, should you make cheap jokes about ANY doctors if your stars looked liked this? And this?

I mean, as early as last year, SNL's Weekend Update said something like, "ABC today renewed 'Desperate Housewives' for another three seasons, after which it will spin-off into 'Nip/Tuck'".

So I guess they'll all be visiting a surgeon's office again REAL soon. They'd better HOPE those diplomas come from our med schools!

JUST SO YOU KNOW THAT GEORGETOWN LLDD'S AREN'T REALLY LAME OR DORKY . . .

. . . Jack Bauer is a Hoya.

(Bonus points if you work in "There's not enough time!!!" or "I don't think that's the right play" into your Paper. Or if your name is Chloe).

(Deductions for every person you have to shoot in the thigh during research)

TRAVEL ADVISORY...NOT ONLY IN THE PHILIPPINES (APEC EDITION)

All the stories you might think are from here, but are actually from APEC, APEC countries, or countries who know a guy from APEC. Just follow the yellow link road.

* Extreme security concerns at a high-profile international event, then things don't go as planned, and other countries start to snicker? I feel your pain, brother.

* I mean, it's not like your public transport system isn't safe. . . oh, wait.

* Corrupt judge seduced by the dark side. No. Really.

* The problem with aggressive panhandlers, they're so darn . . . aggressive.

* Man, if I can't get a passport, and no one trusts my diploma, how am I gonna buy beer?

* Overpriced road projects: The White Elephant in the Room.

* There's never a good credit rating when you need one. Actually, there's never a good credit rating agency around when you need one, either.

* Defense contracting fraud puts soldiers in even greater harm's way. If only the guy who played Rambo were still alive.

* It's hot as hell, but at least the power's out.

* And you call us dogeaters?!

* Looting, panic buying and a water shortage. The bad news day trifecta (and I haven't even mentioned the plague)

* Reality and game shows may be rigged?!? Nooooooooooo!!!!!

* And finally, we've all seen the shame of a poor education system, but has anyone thought about the parents?

LLDD: MEDIA WHORE

After the AMM, the LLDD did what anyone would do after taking part in a hugely successful public event: try to cash in and go on a self-promoting publicity tour.

Well, no, not really. It just so happened that I got involved in several . . . ok, a few . . . ok, ok, two media things right around the time of the AMM. The first was a human interest article prepared by the AMM organizers about the "Best and the Brightest" people involved in the event. Moi was picked to represent the LOs and quoted with stuff like "Our duties require resourcefulness and flexibility because, to our principal, we are the face of Philippine hospitality" (yes . . . I really talk like that). The hope was that a newspaper or magazine would pick up the story, print the piece, raise local awareness of the AMM, and reality shows would follow suit. Unfortunately, the article never got picked up by any media outlet, so instead of my LO adventures appearing in a publication with a circulation of millions, I was posted on a PICC bulletin board with a circulation of from the dining area to the men's room. (that's me at the left most, second from the bottom; there's no mistaking that double chin silhouette)

The second part of the media frenzy (ha!) was the the long awaited debut of the LLDDL in a fashion magazine. The photos from our shoot last June actually made the final cut, and sales of the magazine predictably spiked (mainly from all the issues we bought for our friends and relatives; I tried to keep the thing a secret from the office, but got called out by a boss who saw the pictures in - gasp! - a beauty parlor). As you can see, my picture looks as ridiculous as I thought it would. The LLDDL's, on the other hand, is ok, but I agree with her that some of the other pictures of her taken that day were much, much nicer

(jeez, one photoshoot, and already we're divas)

BTW, guess what article immediately preceded ours in the same magazine. As in, we actually shared the same page leaf (zoom in on the magazine page if you don't believe me)...

(I mean, this is getting eerie. I might have to take out a restraining order on him pretty soon)

Anyway, 'til our next opening, dahlings. We'll do lunch.

GIVE ME AN "A"!...GIVE ME AN "M"!...GIVE ME AN "M"!

My, my, how time flies. Has it already been a year since the last ASEAN Ministerial Meeting (AMM)? Seems like just yesterday I was sneaking off and hunting down VNC shoes for the LLDDL in Kuala Lumpur (actually, it was just yesterday that I was sneaking off and hunting VNC down shoes for the LLDDL! Only in Glorietta instead of Suria. eh. The places look alike anyway).

So our turn as chairman of ASEAN is finally coming to an end, and we want to leave on a high note. The Cebu Summit last January went well enough for me, but there’ll always be those who’ll choose to remember the typhoon and postponement instead. Whatever. All we know is, this time, we have a bigger headstart, the thing is in our homecourt, and – honestly - after Cebu, is there anything that can take us by surprise anymore?

In a word: No.

This time around, everyone goes about their business with a veteran’s confidence and swagger. The number of visiting country delegations is almost double that of Cebu, but we have a lot more time and space to work with, most facilities are already in place, and people already instinctively know what to do, where to go, and who to turn to. In fact, preparations are so far along, some people talk as if they actually miss the challenges of Cebu, like Grandpa Simpson going on one of his rambles. “What’s that? Your laptop just lost its wi-fi? Let me tell you, in Cebu, we didn’t NEED wi-fi! We walked five miles through the snow to get to the highest tree and signal the next island to crank up the dial-up connection of their UNIVAC! You people are a bunch of babies! I'm going to take a nap...”

Well, grandpa, if there was a “ready-or-not, here they come” feel to things in Cebu, we got a “let’s get this party started” vibe going on right now. So let’s DO get this party started, ‘cause before you know it, it will be ASEAN Summit time all over again.

And Ka-Ching!apore TM has rehearsals scheduled for Monday.

Team Building

I got drafted for Liaison Officer duty again this conference, and I couldn't have been happier. I had a blast being an LO in Cebu, and the organizers were so far advanced in their preparations this time around that all the other LOs arrived from around the world a fulll month ahead of the event, and we actually had time for a team building/seminar weekend. Now I'm usually against working on Saturdays and Sundays, but a catered lunch is a catered lunch. So bond, LOs, BOND!

Day One of Team Building. As you can see, we reported to training camp slightly out of shape.


(WARNING: SHAMELESS MATT DAMON REFERENCE AHEAD) With all the laptops and floor plans lying around, the place had the feel of an Oceans Eleven caper.


A hilarious communication exercise. The LOs were divided into two groups, about 15 a side. A figure would be flashed to the first LO, who had to draw it in 10 seconds. He then would flash his drawing to to the second LO, who had to make his own drawing to be flashed to the next LO, and so forth. No one could talk or show their drawings to anyone else. If you zoom in to the picture above, you'll see the original figure was an owl. By the fourth drawing, the figure had somehow become a stick-figure horse. By the ninth drawing onwards, the figure was cross between an insomniac bunny and Casper the ghost.


An indispensable part of every team-building, the cheering contest. Our group's cheer was to spell AMM and then chant it like a Buddhist mantra (you had to be there). The group above started strong, but for some reason finished with "The Spaghetti Song" by the Sex Bomb Dancers. If only our principals knew.

Convoy Dry Runs

Oh GOD, those dry runs. They'd go on until 4am, include briefings/debriefings that would last three times as long as the run itself, and have enough glitches to make Murphy smile. Still, it was all worth it in the end, as all VIPs got around safely and (generally) on time.

One thing you can say about Manila motorists, they all go through a 4-step thought process as a convoy approaches: 1) Pretend I don't hear the convoy, therefore the convoy does not exist; 2) Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear your sirens, but you're probably just some local low-level bureaucrat with bootleg sirens on a joyride/power trip. I'm staying right here in my lane; 3) Oh crap! At least six police motorcycles and cars in my rear-view mirror, all with blaring sirens. You're not fracking around, are you?!; and 4) I will now turn 90 degrees into the next lane, regardless of other cars that may already be there.

Whole process takes about a minute.

(Cebu drivers, on the other hand, were far more efficient: 1) I will freeze in sheer terror and keep a deathgrip on my steering wheel at the sound of the approaching sirens for 10 seconds; and 2) I will now turn 90 degrees into the next lane, regardless of other cars that may already be there)

So what goes in a convoy dry run? First, take a batch of LOs and make them stew overnight (literally) . . .


...add a dash of VIP chauffeurs...


...and coat with a whole lot of men in blue...er...green...er...teal...(damn you, available light setting!)


A dry run doesn't end with the convoy run itself. There's still a debriefing afterwards that can stretch for hours. The debriefing above was held past 12am (there was some comedy relief, though, right after this picture was taken, as one LO came in late, saw all the other LOs seated at the table, then started shouting "Alright! It's midnight! Let's party!". When he didn't get a reaction, he shouted even louder "LET'S PARTY!". What he didn't realize was that no one was reacting because The Boss was already seated at the table but couldn't be seen by the shouting LO. The Boss was not amused.


Game time. Where those long hours pay off. VIP Convoys know the drill by now, it's the additional delegates that have to keep up with us. (speaking of which, I always thought whenever we'd travel abroad that ours was the only delegation that frantically looked around for their car seats. As this picture of another delegation shows, everybody does it like a Chinese Fire Drill. phew)

PICC

I'm on record as saying foreign delegations will remember a beachfront resort more than a generic convention center. That may still be true, but from an organizer's point of view, it was sheer joy to have so much space to play around with in the PICC. No more eating off floors, no more tables jammed against your chest when you sit, no more sexual harassment lawsuits from the constant bumping into one another in hallways. Honestly, when we first walked through the place, I wanted to run around like Macauley Culkin in "Home Alone".

On the flipside, the convention center was so large it took forever to get from one side to another, and you ended up talking yourself out of going places you needed to go. Does my delegation REALLY need to be at Meeting Room 14 to sign that treaty? Can't we just text or YM or something? And, strangely, for all that space, they didn't set up a gift bazaar like they did in Cebu. I mean, where were we supposed to get our dried mango fix?

So memo to Ka-ching!apore TM: get that large (but not too large) convention center with gift bazaar on a beach resort put up, stat. It's the only way I'll be truly happy.

Not quite the Cebu beach view, but not bad.

With its speckled gray concrete, wood and chrome trimming, heavy upholstered furniture, and what I can only describe as disco entrance lighting, lower PICC had a VERY dated feel to it . . .

...but would time warp into modern-day as you went to the higher floors. It was like one of those those New York dance clubs that play 70s music on the ground floor, 80s on the second, etc.


This time around, we got a big-ass secretariat, complete with...


...individual sub-committee rooms (here we see the ever popular gifts sub-committee), each with with a garden view...


... staff dining area (a big hit) ...


...and - this is very important - LO workstation and conference area (just pardon the mess).


Despite the much larger number of visiting country delegations, everyone got a bigger country room. The blown-up photos of Philippine scenery was a nice touch carried over from Cebu.

In Cebu Shangri-La, there were only two dedicated bilateral rooms for the entire Summit. Needless to state, confirmed time slots became valuable commodities to Delegations and LOs alike. In PICC, on the other hand, we had all the rooms we wanted (with Philippine backdrops to boot!). The only problem was that we had the same number of people handling bilaterals as in Cebu. This made for some funny scenes of officers and staff scurrying around all the rooms with flags, chairs and other materials in between meetings.

PICC also had really well-dressed ushers. You couldn't ask for directions to the men's room without them breaking out into song and dance = )

Gala

I got really mixed feelings here. On the one hand, something like 80% of this gala was a repeat of the Cebu gala, right down to stage design, dance steps and narrator's script (I guess they thought if it killed in Cebu, it should kill here, too).

On the other hand, this gala included numbers from the country delegations, and there are few things more entertaining than diplomats taken out of their comfort zone and made to sing and dance.

The fun actually started weeks in advance when the country representatives first met with the show's producers and tried to work out the details of the gala coverage. Some countries expressed no reservations as to media recording the event - heck, some of them wanted their number broadcast live to their country - while others defended their performance's privacy with the intensity of a state secret.

Come showtime, the country delegations did themselves proud. You could see some nervousness on some of the performers faces, but they all gamely pushed on, and the audience loved them for it.

(well, there was this one country that hired professional singers to perform for them, which is kinda like a boss paying his secretary to buy his wife's birthday gift)

Anyway, on with the show.

During the first meeting between the Producers of the Gala and the Delegation representatives, the Director of the show hyped the wrap-around video screen backdrop, the high-tech lighting and cameras, the full musical backups and the other bells and whistles. Instead of being reassured, all the big production talk apparently gave some of delegations stage fright. Others, however, were legitimately giddy to be part of a such a big performance. Either way, they all took pictures of the stage mock-up for sending back home. Diplomats need to get ready for their close-up too, you know!

Gala night. All the pageantry of an awards show, except no one yells "Who are you wearing?". The LOs bring the VIPs up to the lobby entrance, where they are met by the Hosts (above), then are quickly shown to a holding room. What you don't see is the LOs frantically running - in formal wear - behind the horde of cameras and skipping over an obstacle course of cables and cameras to meet up in time with the VIPs at the holding room entrance. You could set the scene to Benny Hill music.

State University Singing Ambassadors at the back, ASEAN (real-life) Singing Foreign Ministers up front. See how it all comes together? I'd give Ebert-like reviews for the rest of the country performances, but lest I reveal a state secret, check out this article instead.

Finally, the show ended as it did in Cebu, with a "Rock Icon" belting out his ASEAN song. The LLDD's bro-in-law gives it a solid 9 on the Unintentional Comedy Scale.

The Money Shot

So here's the situation: as is custom, all the VIPs had a group photo scheduled during the event. For the AMM, the photo op was supposed to take place on the last day, after a lunch meeting on the 4th floor, and on the ground floor red carpet staircase on the other side of PICC that led to the venue for the final meeting and closing ceremonies. The Organizers were well set-up for this.

Turns out, however, about three VIPs had flights to catch and planned to leave even before the lunch meeting. So now we had a problem. If we held the photo-op after lunch as planned, at least three VIPs would be missing from the picture. On the other hand, it would take too much time to bring everyone down right before lunch to the photo-shoot venue at the other side of PICC, and then bring them all the way back up to the site of the lunch meeting.

So a spot decision was made. Hold the group photo before the lunch meeting, but instead of bringing everyone all the way down, take the shot on the roofdeck just outside the lunch meeting room (I actually had the same idea, but was too shy to speak up; damn you social anxiety disorder!). The only thing was, we were not set up for this scenario, the roofdeck was bare, and there were less than 30 minutes before the start of the lunch meeting.

This was turning into a lame half-episode of "24".

(blip...blip...blip...blip...blip blip blip blipblipblipblipblip)

(The following takes place between 12:30 and 12:40pm)

The location, stage, riser, carpet etc. were all set up from scratch in under 10 minutes. Pretty impressive, really.

(The following takes place between 12:40 and 12:45 pm)

To fix the blocking, framing and background, each LO stood in place of his VIP. We all had fun with the moment, knowing this would probably the only time official photographers would ever want to get a picture of us.

(The following takes place between 12:45 and 12:50 pm)

Afterwards, each LO got on his/her knees and taped his country name on the platform (glamorous, this LO life, no?).

(The following takes place between 12:50 and 12:55pm)

We actually finished with a few minutes to spare, so a couple of the LOs decided to stage some bilateral meetings of their own in the holding room.

(The following takes place between 12:55 and 1:00 pm)

And then faster than you can say "regulation of cheese and other dairy products", the VIPs were onstage and the media were happily clicking away. So all's well that ends well . . .

Well, not quite. It's not immediately noticeable, but there's actually one VIP missing from the picture. Seems this VIP decided to go to the men's room first and change into a barong. Meanwhile, all the other VIPs had already made their way to the photo-op stage and were ready and waiting in the sun. Everyone was frantically radioing the missing VIP's LO who, by stroke of bad luck, could not go into the men's room because . . . well . . she was not a man. By now, the media were snapping away and, since this was an outdoor lunchtime shoot, many of the VIPs were already visibly hot and hungry. Some VIPs tried to end the session by yelling "Thank you!" to the media and making a move for the door, but everyone was yelling back "Wait! Wait! Just one more!" The VIPs held back for a couple more seconds, and then finally broke ranks (above) just as the missing VIP was entering the door leading to the photo area. By then it was too late, all the VIPs were already heading towards the lunch meeting, and the LOs were debating the merits of Photoshop vs. Ulead.

LO Life

I'd like to think that all of us LOs were elite, hand-picked, specially trained diplomats trusted with the most difficult official duties. In truth, only about half the LOs were battled hardened veterans of Presidential Protocol specifically called-up for the event, while the rest of us I think were chosen because we had no typing skills.

In the end, though, we all bonded, learned from and covered for each other, and ultimately delivered. It was actually a bit poignant when the whole thing was over and we had to say goodbye and go back to our old assignments.

Man, if we ever got back together, we'd be kick-ass wedding planners!

Before anything else, an LO asks himself "WWJBD"?*

(*what would Jason Bourne do?)


Getting the convoy ready at the airport. Always a logistical and bureaucratic nightmare for an LO, but also good for an adrenalin rush when the principal pops out of the plane and then speeds away from the tarmac.

An endless, tiring LO chore: walking through the venues. This walk-through was well after midnight, and a few hours before the opening ceremony later that morning. You have to "eyeball" everything from seating arrangements to holding areas to men's rooms. And, yes, I used eyeball, seat, hold and men's room all in the same sentence.

Typical LO scene: all dressed up, standing outside the VIP meeting room with the other LOs, constantly looking at cellphones or listening to radios for the latest information from HQ.

Speaking of, special mention should be made of LOs and their radios. The radios are indispensable for tracking activities and operations, but are also an endless source of hilarity. In the first place, most everyone involved is a bureacurat with no military training or background, yet all become Jack Bauer wannabes the moment a radio is placed in their hands. Secondly, some of the radio communications, while necessary to the events, are decidedly . . . um . . . un-military in subject matter. Take for instance attire. No VIP ever wants to be odd-man-out and the only one under or overdressed to an activity, so they task the LOs to find out what everyone else is wearing. The radio exchanges go something like this (I'm not kidding):

LO 1: Break. Marlboro country, come in. This is Banana Republic.
LO 2: Go ahead Banana Republic.
LO 1: Will your VIP be wearing a barong or a suit?
LO 2: Standby . . . (pause) . . . he is wearing a suit.
LO 1: Copy that. Tie or no tie?
LO 2: Tie.
LO 1: 10-4. What color is the suit?
LO 2: Appears to be brown, may be beige. Smart casual. Will confirm.
LO 1: Tango Yankee.
LO 2: Break! Break! (in more urgent voice) VIP is taking off tie. Repeat, VIP is taking off tie! Will go with unbuttoned collar!
LO 3: Short break. This is Clay Nation. What's the menu for tonight?

And so on.

You may think all this is trivial, but its the sort of thing that gets you in the papers. (although I was told that the VIP invloved really chose to wear a barong becuase the event was at the Presidential Palace, and really didn't mind being the only one in the picture in white)


At the start of every meeting, media are allowed in for a few pictures, then are cleared out of the room. Some try to stay on by saying they're with so-and-so or they have super secret clearance. I enjoy clearing media out of a room, I really do =)


For the gala dinner, each LO was measured for a formal barong. Of the close to 30 LOs, less than half had barongs that actually fit. One of the lucky LOs celebrates above.

Long after everyone else has gone to bed, an LO stays up and works on the next day's scenarios.

And in the midst of all the chaos, the LOs manage to throw a surpirse birthday party for one of their own. The set-up: While all the VIPs were in a lunch meeting, the LOs gathered in their own dining area. The Boss (at right) summons the celebrant (at left) over the radio in a stern sounding voice. The celebrant comes rushing in, all nervous. The Boss stays in character and asks what the situation is with the celebrant's VIP. The celebrant now gets really worried, because he was not aware of any situation with his VIP (because, in fact, there was none). While the celebrant tries to gather himself, another LO sneaks behind with the cake, and then we all break out into song (that's my dorky voice you hear on the video). Another successful LO operation.

A Rewarding Experience

Whoever said work was its own reward never received a shiny medal. Us LOs of Foreign Ministers were really not expecting anything other than a pat on the back, but word spread that the Palace had invited everyone involved in the Summit and the AMM over for some sort of ceremony. This led to the existential question: "If an LO is part of a ceremony, does he protocol himself?".

Sure enough, there was a Presidential recognition program and citations were spread all around. You really are filled with pride when you first put the thing on, which you immediately replace with the anxious feeling of "Am I a dork for wearing a medal around my neck during cocktails?"

Whatever. I got mine, I hope others get theirs.

And the whole thing is finally over.

Mabuhi!

Neither rain nor sleet nor snow nor Supertyphoon "Egay" will keep an LO away from picking up his award at the Presidential Palace.


The handpicked LOs of leaders during the Summit get their awards from the President herself ...


... while the LLDD stands outside with his, ready to ride off into the sunset.

(or at least take the rented bus back to the office; it was raining pretty hard)