It was the weather, stupid.
People wrote about the postponement, made jokes about it, got indignant about it. All I can say is, I wish those people were actually there.
I wish they were there when the satellite printouts that showed Cebu right smack in the path of the storm were first laid out to us. I wish they were there to attend all the 2 a.m. briefings and dry-runs to see just how much hard work and planning was put into place. I wish they were there to see the army of event organizers and local volunteers ignore the petty potshots, skip directly past self-pity and go straight into "let's do this" mode.
But those people weren't there, were they?
You could actually track the no-win situation together with the storm. If we didn't postpone and the storm grew stronger and directly hit Cebu, we endangered everyone; if the storm died down, we panicked and over-reacted; if the storm stayed strong but hit somewhere else and the summit wasn't postponed, newspapers would carry a front page photo the next day of waving Heads of State next to a photo of a washed out villagers over the headline "Caring and Sharing?"
"Why'd you even hold the thing in a beach resort in the first place?" you ask. "Have you seen the view from the summit venues?" I answer. Seriously, I was skeptical too when I heard that the summit would be held at the Shangri-La resort and in improvised meeting rooms. I didn't think everything would fit, and weren't summits and conferences always held in huge convention centers? The moment I went on my first ocular inspection of the place, however, I was sold. No way could any convention center compete with the visuals, atmosphere and memories of a beachfront summit. In fact, I wouldn't have minded if the local convention center, the CICC, wasn't finished on time. More beach photos for me!
Unfortunately, it literally rained on the parade. The meeting rooms faced open sea and couldn't take a direct hit from a strong storm. Movement between venues would be next to impossible. The scheduled outdoor working lunches and dinners would get soggy. So if the whole raison d'etre for a beach summit no longer existed, I guess you really have to put the whole thing off for a while and go back to the drawing board.
(There was, of course, also talk of other supposed security and political reasons for postponement. Now, I'm too low on the totem pole to know whether those concerns were real or actually came into play or not, but I don't think the organizers would have immediately broadcast all their plans for the re-scheduled summit if there were in fact serious and continuing security threats to Cebu. And if you're a leader facing political challenges back home, wouldn't continuing the summit be the best way to show you're in control and in charge? Postponement would only aggravate your political problems, wouldn't it? So why else would you postpone, except for something completely out of your control like, say, I don't know, the weather?)
Anyway, that was that. I personally felt like a nervous college student who'd been cramming hard for killer final exams, then heard the test was moved back a week. The initial relief immediately gives way to the sick feeling that your work isn't over, you've already blown your allowance, and you can't go off to summer vacation just yet.
Still, the "almost at the" summit had its share of fun/memorable moments:
My assignment for the summit was to be a Liaison Officer - L.O. in DD-speak - for a VIP of one of the foreign delegations. This turned out to be an out-of-body experience of sorts for me, as I got to see in that delegation what I must look like when I'm attending a conference abroad. The messy and cramped secretariats, the harried and sleep deprived staff, the endless errands, the colorful bosses - well loved ones and despised ones alike. These were all too familiar to me. I'm not joking when I say I frequently forgot what country I was in whenever I entered the foreign delegation room.
On the other hand, being an L.O. brings with it command over an entire security detail. Police officers, motorcycle escorts, sirens, radio and hand signals, the works. Now for someone whose military expertise consisted of composing dirty marching songs during college R.O.T.C., this was quite an experience. Add to this the expensive, high powered VIP cars I had (some) control over and, well, let's just say I'm gonna play Counterstrike online with a little more swagger the next time.
We arrived a week before the start of official activities, and when we got there, Shangri-la was absolutely crawling with Korean tourists, mostly lovers/honeymooners. The cutest thing about it was the respective matching outfits ALL of the couples were wearing. I'm not just talking identical t-shirts; I'm talking matching shoes and socks, color schemes and themes. One couple would be in rugby uniforms, another would have a sailing motif. My favorite: a guy wearing a t-shirt with an arrow pointing to the right and the printed words "My Juliet" arm-in-arm with a girl wearing a t-shirt with an arrow pointing to the left and the printed words "My Romeo." awwwwwwwwwwwwwww
SUMMIT, INTERRUPTED
Day one. Big event a week away. Straight off the plane, we head to the summit venues still getting their finishing touches. This is what I'm talking about. If you're a leader or delegate, which meeting would you remember more: the one held inside a generic convention center, or the one held at a place with bright sunshine, cool breeze and gentle sea? That's what I thought.
(of course, five days later, there wouldn't be any bright sunshine, cool breeze and gentle sea, but you get the idea)
Security briefing/planning session, held around midnight of Day Two. Afterwards, the security escorts were ordered to run two full motorcade simulations before dawn. Like I said, too many people worked too hard for too long for the summit to be postponed for just any dodgy reason.
I must admit, the first couple of days before the summit looked a bit frenzied and disorderly. PCs weren't hooked up to the net, supplies hadn't arrived, marching orders were not yet finalized, and DDs were forced to eat off floors (albeit, plush Persian floors; "yes, i ordered the chicken with gravy and rugburn")
Setting up the CICC's media control room. See that hanging white plastic sheet at the upper left side? There were like four of those on the ceiling, equidistant from each other, and draped in the exact same symmetrical form. I took this picture several days before the storm arrived and when it was still bright and sunny outside. After the summit was postponed because of the weather, a national newspaper splashed a large picture on its front page of the same room and the same plastic sheet as a way of mocking the rain leaks at the CICC. Now there were, in fact, some leaks because of the storm, but I'm pretty sure these white plastic sheets in the picture were there as part of a pseudo-industrial interior design motiff (you know, like clubs where they expose air vents, show metal scaffolding, leave everything grey), and not to catch rain. My guess is the newspaper reporter/photographer arrived at the CICC after the leaks were gone, got lazy, saw a drooping plastic sheet over expensive equipment, assumed it meant something, and voila, instant righteous indignation captured on film.
Surreal scene unfolds. The storm approaches, word gets out that the summit is postponed, and delegations all pack up and get ready to leave. And now there are no more Korean tourists in sight because the hotel was already closed-off for the week of the summit. The pool and beach areas - swarming with people just a day before - become absolute ghost towns. With the skies darkening, the winds picking up and giving a high pitched whistling sound, and the hotel facilities in place but empty and unused, there was a feeling of the opening scene of one of those "Day of the Dead" zombie movies where the hot chick wakes up, walks out and finds she may be the last person alive on earth.
The look of sheer terror. I'm forced to ride shotgun in the lead security car of the convoy that is taking my principal and his posse to their "evacuation" plane that has to take off before the storm hits. High speed + slick roads + front seat = no heartbeat.
The look of smug self-satisfaction. I successfully get my principal et al to the tarmac and their awaiting C-130 on time and safely see them off. Five minutes after take-off, the rain comes down really hard, and I get a small sense of summit postponement vindication (of course, the rain lets up 30 minutes later and doesn't return, but still...)
A former president rallies the demoralized troops.
This...isn't...over...
So fast forward to January. The December summit was postponed because of bad weather, so we come back to Cebu almost a month later and were greeted by...rain.
Yep, more rain. Not a stormy, high-winds destructive rain. Just an intermittent, annoying stream. On cue, the wiseguys crack jokes that Cebu is even wetter this time around, so we should get ready for another postponement. No one is amused.
If anything, everyone was more businesslike the second time around. In December, there was still some giddiness and nervousness in the air. In January, people were more "we've worked hard, we know we can do this, let's get it over with, dammit!".
Believe me, postponement was not an option this time.
THE HOTELS
Shangri-la's inner garden. I ask again: some convention center lobby, or THIS?
Central chandelier of Shangri-la's Chi Spa. Beautiful place. Some very lucky delegates got to go there for free. Some very lucky L.O.'s got to wait for them in the lobby. sigh
Cebu Hilton (lesser known, but better regarded than Paris). Within sight of Shangri-la, but I never actually got to go there. Reportedly, it was reserved for just one country (unlike Paris).
Restaurant row in between the Marriot (my hotel) and the mall. If you think we wouldn't be so shallow as to go in those places posse-style, in full L.O. gear (formal wear, i.d. tags, radios etc.), talking about our day in loud voices, and generally trying to get the locals to notice the obvious that WE'RE PART OF THE SUMMIT OK?, well, you don't know us very well.
The Marriot breakfast buffet. We became very dear friends.
THE CICC
The CICC was a whole other no-win situation of its own. We had to host the summit a year ahead of our turn, so there wasn't much time to plan and build (only 8 months, in fact). But if Cebu had no convention center set up, or if the CICC turned out smaller or less grand than the huge convention centers of, say, Ha Noi or Nanning, smart alecks would call Cebu an embarrassment. On the other hand, if the CICC somehow matched the scale of the other convention centers, the same malcontents would complain of extravagance. And, of course, it leaked during the December storm. Still, the builders put the extra month to good use, and whatever other problems the CICC may have previously had, it looked pretty good and held up well on the day of the summit itself (check out the CICC opening and theme song)
Site of the East Asian Summit. True story: when my foreign delegation first visited this room right before the start of the meeting, one of the top aides - who didn't know i was right behind him - spontaneously gushed to himself as he entered: "Oh, this is beautiful!" I didn't know whether to thank him with a simple dignified nod, or a less subtle but sincere man-hug.
The much ballyhooed Cebu-made furniture did its job. You can't see it here, but the bilateral meeting rooms were all very comfy and stylish. What I DIDN'T like: some manufacturers conspicuously placed their cards and flyers on the hall tables. I realize the event was also meant to showcase the pieces but, come on, show some class and advertise more discretely.
Nice CICC touch (1) : the Philippine Secretariat faced a pool and walkbridge, with water gently cascading down the windows. Never had this kind of view before in any of the secretariats abroad.
Nice CICC touch (2): endless rows of hi-speed computers on either side of the main briefing hall, so journalists and delegates could watch treaty signing ceremonies AND update their MySpace accounts at the same time. Another bonus: I confirmed that no nationality has a monopoly on shamelessly leaving all their stuff in chairs and tables to reserve a space and then leave for hours at a time while others wander helplessly around looking for an open PC.
Nice CICC touch (3): a basement bazaar for Cebu products. It was almost comical: the moment the leaders and other VIPs were safely locked away in their meetings, the rest of the delegations headed straight for the shops. Necklaces, bags (right LLDDL?), clothes, even sculptures and guitars - they were all snapped up.
BEHIND THE SCENES
You see the carefully staged photo-ops. You don't see the very human side behind them, including officials killing time while waiting for their last counterpart to arrive (who may have gone to the bathroom, gotten lost, or was just really slow), and then joking/sarcastic applause from the officials when the person finally shows up.
All you kids out there who want to grow up to be an L.O., I offer you this piece of advice: buy comfortable shoes. A big part of L.O.'ing is basically hurry-up-and-wait. You escort your principal to where s/he needs to be, see that s/he has everything s/he needs, and then you wait. A lot. Outside. And you can't stray too far because you never know when your principal will pop out for something. So you have to spend most of your time just standing and going over the next scheduled activity with your fellow L.O.'s. On the plus side, I now have really great calves.
A very cute scene. In between meetings, the ministers were supposed to have their coffee breaks in a lounge that had three separate small tables and four chairs around each table. At the first ever coffee break (above), however, the ministers themselves pulled all the chairs together and gathered round just one small table, even if it meant cramping and much less space. It was just like in college where a barkada messes up the cafeteria seating arrangement just so they all can sit and hang with each other (... to the exclusion of the uncool kids ... who really want to join the fun barkada ... but it's not the uncool kids fault that they can't afford lacoste shirts and need braces ... and one of the barkada is really cute and might like and find me funny if only i could sit with her and ... hmmm ... on second thought, this is NOT a cute scene!!!! L.O.'s want to sit too!!! Andie should have chosen Duckie!!!)
Buggies! A most prized commodity (and I like saying "Buggies!"). Because the meetings were relatively casual, the leaders would leave at the same time, but in no particular order, and could choose to bring along any number of officials with them. So when a meeting would end, there would be around 30 frenzied seconds where the L.O.'s and security details all try to grab the nearest available buggies and fit the entire delegation onboard. Kind of like a high-level musical chairs.
The newspapers already reported that Shangri-la would host the summit AND a previously scheduled wedding in January. It made for a nice human interest story (that's the beach wedding reception in the picture). Thing is, I completely forgot about any wedding, and didn't make the connection even as I shared an elevator with the heavily made-up bridesmaids and groomsmen earlier that evening. I just remember thinking to myself, "man, these delegates are overdressed for a ministers' meeting."
The LLDD's rides (as you can see, I'm partial to BMW's and the color grey). Seriously, these were the powerful security vehicles for my arriving foreign delegation. Let me tell you, there are few greater macho-trips than organizing a high-speed convoy from an airport tarmac with full police escorts. I grew three chest hairs just taking this picture.
Well, actually, THESE were the real men. At least five high-level security officers bunked together in one room near their principal. They knew a dozen different ways to kill me with the mini-bar.
The horde
A funny scene. One of the officials decides to check out the in-house boutiques rather than head straight to his hotel room. A couple of photographers happen to pass through, see the VIP, and shoot away through the window. Some security try to keep them at bay. Hilarity ensues. You had to be there.
Diplomats big and small bowed to the might of the hotel employee with the bell and the "Silence Please" sign. Seriously. Everyone ran away from her in fear.
The LLDD breaks in the Cebu summit furniture and gives the go signal for ...
SHOWTIME!
Absolutely no backing down now, and we couldn't be happier about it. The rain disrupted things a bit, but the contingency planning, quick-thinking and resourcefulness of the organizers took care of things. Still, it was a bit frustrating to wake up each morning, pull back your room curtains, and see nothing but overcast skies. The sun would occassionally peek through for about 15 minutes, get our hopes up a bit, then get swallowed up by those dark cloud meanies. Cebu might not get its chance to shine.
Finally - FINALLY! - on the penultimate day of the summit, the sun breaks free. Just in time, too, because that afternoon's events were supposed to take place on the beachfront venues. As each leader arrived and posed for the press drenched in gorgeous sunshine, my friends and I kept calling out "There! Right THERE! That's the money shot! THAT'S the reason we held this thing here in Cebu!" (my favorite moment, when the Indian leader arrived, he didn't just pose for the cameras with his back to the sea; he turned around, faced the water, and stretched his arms out with his palms up, as if to say "come to poppa!")
Some other random fun/memorable moments:
No Korean tourists in Shangri-La this time, but a lot of Russians. If the Koreans were best remembered for their matching couple's outfits, I will never forget the sight of all those Russians playing beach volleyball in skimpy speedos.
Whenever a leader would first arrive at Shangri-la, s/he would be greeted by a red carpet reception, well-wishers, and a local choir singing the catchy summit theme song ("Ma-bu-hi... ...Ma-bu-heee...Ma-boooo-heeee ka sugbuanoooooo") Fair enough. But as the leader would walk past the lobby, turn 90 degress to the left, and make the long walk towards the elevators, the choir would follow him/her, maybe a constant 10 meters behind, singing all the way. So each leader would walk along but keep looking over his/her shoulder and have a funny/perplexed/disturbed "are you still following me?" look on his/her face. It was like the scene in Godfather where Michael and his bride-to-be were walking through the village with the girl's entire family in tow. Really, really funny stuff.
I got to join a surprise birthday party thrown by a foreign delegation for one of their VIPs. Right before the meal, and in the middle of the beautiful foreign-language prayer, one of the foreign personell's cellphone goes off to the tune of "My Humps". I almost lost it.
And with that, on with the show...
Mactan Summit Hall. Small place, but GREAT view of the sea behind them. I actually wondered how they get any work done. If it were me, I'd be like a kid staring out a classroom window.
The ASEAN armada takes its place behind the summit hall (actually, a bunch of fishing boats bearing country flags; I heard one of the countries' flags was initially left out by accident; caused a minor flap [ha! flap! get it? flag? flap? haaayyy...])
The great gala dinner, with Freddie Aguilar performing. Even before they knew that he would be performing at the gala, several delegates from at least two countries were already telling me what a big hit Aguilar's Anak was in their homelands. Apparently, the song has been translated into a lot of languages and resonated with every problem child and troubled parent the world over.
The Bayanihan dancers do their thing. Good Lord, do these people have stage presence! They followed a cutesy children's choir, and the moment the dancers walked onstage, you could literally see everyone stop eating and sit straighter in their chairs. They owned the room. And from what I heard, most of them went down with food poisoning the night before, some replacements flew in the day of the gala itself, the sick and the newbies rehearsed a bit, and then they all still killed! Bravo, I say!
Everyone was so happy by the last day of the summit, people were literally dancing on the roof! (actually, even I didn't know we would be greeted at the CICC with an army of dancers; as our convoy was approaching the building, my foreign delegation asked me what were all these people doing; all I could say was, "surprise!")
And so the leaders head to their last meeting, and then off into the sunset. The summit is finally over, hugs and handshakes all around. My biggest frustration: unlike most of the other officials who left that same evening, my principal would not be flying out until 4:30 the following morning. So I couldn't even party and get wasted with my friends, let alone show up at some nightspot in full L.O. gear, talk about my day in a loud voice, and generally try to get the locals to notice the obvious that I WAS PART OF THE SUMMIT OK?
Oh, well. There's always the Chairmanship turnover ceremony in July.
