Climate negotiations broke down today in Copenhagen. It's heartbreaking, because if nothing comes to pass here, we all lose.

That was the only really important thing that happened here today. < Tuesday update: after a long night, talks are back on.&rt; There are many places you can read about these global events, but in keeping with the "personal journey" nature of my blog, I'm going to tell you about my day. Maybe it will make you wish you were here; more likely not.

I arrived yesterday, having waffled for many a week over whether the time and cost of my attending the climate talks made any sense for EMC or for me personally. Oddly, even after the day I've had, I'm gaining confidence that it did. But more about that as the week plays out.

So here's how it went.

When I arrived Sunday, I was informed that the Bella Center -- venue for the talks and locus of registration -- was closed for the day. I knew right away I'd have to compete to get registered on Monday at 8:00, so planned my Monday arrival carefully. I left my hotel in the outskirts of Malmo, Sweden at 6:35 this morning (frankly dictated by the 6:30 availability of coffee). Walked the 5 or 10 minutes to the bus stop, hopped the local 33 for which I did not yet have a travel pass, dug through my Swedish currency (to the annoyance of the locals) to find 20 SEK, and jumped off at the train station. Twenty minutes over the bridge to Denmark and to the appropriate stop in Copenhagen (having convinced the conductor that I should be allowed to ride free, since I hadn't been able to register yet), and from there one metro stop to the Bella Center.

7:30 A.M. So far so good. Stood 5 or 10 minutes in a queue to find out it was for badge holders only, and sent to the back of a secondary queue for those yet to register. Back. Way back. A couple of hundred people maybe?

15, 20 minutes go by. They moved the end of the queue around to accommodate more people. It was freezing. And dark. But shortly after 8, we started to move.

8:45. I'm halfway to the front of the queue. Cool -- maybe I'll make my 10:00 meeting.

9:45. It's getting light -- and colder. We've moved maybe 6 more feet. Speaking of feet -- I can't feel mine. We've all started to become friends. The very sweet Romanian journalist standing with me found a cup of coffee from one of the environmental groups setting up shop in the metro station and shared it with me. The German delegate on my left went to check to see if they were moving and brought back a report that nothing was happening quickly.

10:30. So much for my 10:00 meeting. Still hoping for the 2:00. We've moved another 6 feet. All of a sudden, people from the back surge up the side to create another line. And on the left, where the badged folks were going, another unbadged bunch surges up. I, the Finnish delegation in front of me, and the representatives of the coalition of Israeli NGOs behind me try to hold our ground. That doesn't last long.

11:00. We've devolved into mass chaos. Sarah, from the Boston area, comes back with a rumor that the registration system has broken down. Some people start leaving.

11:45. We've compressed into a multinational clump of humanity. People are probably stepping on my feet, but I can't tell because I can't feel them. A UN official comes out to tell us that it will be another 1-2 hours for those near the front (that's me, by now), and 3-6 hours for those in the back. Then he says "Be patient". We actually laugh. After all, sense of humor is all we have left.

1:23 P.M. My colleague (and now much owed friend) Steve from CA, whom I was hoping to meet before 10, emails me that he's going to bring out food and coffee. I'm worried he's going to be mobbed, and am very ambivalent about the coffee given a) my frozen fingers and b) the lack of toilets. Many people have given up and left, and one might wonder why I haven't. But -- this is what I came for. And more to the point, I really, really, really didn't want to do this again tomorrow. Anyway, Steve shows up, cleverly with a pocket of chocolates to bribe the people between him and me to pass me a sandwich, cookies, and cup of coffee. They all get split in four (imagine the comradery now -- I'm actually sharing a single paper cup of coffee with people who had been utter strangers a mere 6 hours earlier). It's snowing.