Daily Challenges Of Attending COP

Most delegates to the UN climate change negotiations don’t actually “wake up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy” as Ke$ha sings. Instead, here is a run down of what a delegate actually experiences in between all of the negotiations and actual work.

6:55am: You walk out of the door after putting on your coat for the first of infinite times that day. It’ll first happen within five minutes time, when you realise that you are overheating on Poland’s public transport before putting it on again because you realise that you’re cold.

7:30am: If you’re lucky, you’re already at the conference centre, but if you live further out, this might not happen until 8am. Security at COPs has always been better than security at airports, so keep your laptops in your bag and your shoes on and walk right through.

9am: You walk to the information or documents booth to ask for a schedule before realising that you look like a rookie because the UN has now gone paperless. You try to figure out how to use your iPad without turning Siri on – she doesn’t get your UNFCCC questions.

9:55am: Get the strongest – and really, the only – coffee that you can find. It will be your first of at least three later that day. Don’t bask in the moment, but walk hurriedly on, often in the wrong direction, to your meeting that you’re already late for.

10:10am: You’re still lost and you start feeling like you’re losing valuable time. In your head, you’re calculating if you should just give up, or if it’s worth getting to the final 17 minutes and counting of the meeting…

10:12am: You give it a red hot go and scurry to the right side of the building to make whatever is left of your meeting.

10:22am: You try to catch up on what happened in the 36 minutes since you had the Internet. It’s all there: email, Facebook, Twitter and sometimes even the UNFCCC website. It’s only then that you realise that you’ve missed everything that’s been happening in your meeting, so you search your email to see if someone has been taking notes…

12pm: It’s early but you’re already hungry. It’s time for a sandwich, Coke and pastry, or, if you can afford it, a buffet plate of potato. Repeat this process at least twice in one day, or thrice if you’re having a 19-hour-day. True fact: most delegates walk at least 12,000 steps a day, verified by a Fitbit. Between that and keeping warm, you’re almost justified in consuming that many calories a day.

Other parts of the day: walk around aimlessly, but with a determined look on your face, lest you be approached by an eager but not always helpful conference volunteer. Email, email again, and realise that you’re emailing the person next to you about dinner tonight or where that comma in the press release should go.

2:35pm: You feel thirsty. You look around for water and you panic because you remember that this conference centre has close to none. You start sipping at your water bottle before realising it’s just air.

4pm: You scuttle after someone that you think might be important or useful. There was something about them. Maybe they’re going to the side event of your dreams, or they’re the lead negotiator for your country or an unknown minister from that country somewhere in the world. You’re excited to approach him and chat, until you realise that he was completely lost and you were just following him.

5:30pm: You finally do run into someone useful to you in the bathroom. You try to always keep a business card on hand, even with everything else going on because you never know. You really don’t.

6:30pm: You cross your fingers that the side event you’re going to for the evening has free food. The kitchen’s already closed.

7:15pm: You’re still at the conference centre. It’s dark, but that doesn’t matter because it’s been that way for the last four hours. You find yourself in the plenary still waiting for it to start. Eventually it does, and (depending on the night) you still find yourself there as the cleaner comes in because it’s been six hours already.

11:45pm: You finally snap awake enough to orient yourself and walk towards the exit before realising that it’s freezing and you have to pick up your coat. You get frazzled when trying to find your coat. You hope that you haven’t misplaced it amongst the six thousand other black coats. The odds are on your side, right?

11:55pm: You’ve been checked out for security for the night. You’re on your way home. It won’t be quite bed time yet. Maybe a shower if you’re lucky and definitely more emails.

1:15am: You’re in bed, but trying to remember that thing from the other day about tomorrow. You go to bed thinking about acronyms instead of counting sheep, and you end up dreaming about the negotiations. Or maybe you’re lucky – you’re so exhausted that you just collapse.

See you tomorrow!

By Linh Do and Cécile Schneider, photo by Laura Owsianka.