We wanted to begin COP30 not inside the venue, but by grounding ourselves in the culture, people, and nature of the region. That’s why our group travelled to Mocajuba, Pará, where we met the Amazon river dolphin, the boto, and spent time with local communities, learning about their traditions and enjoying their food. People spoke about the botos with pride, and it was easy to see why. These dolphins are incredibly intelligent and friendly with humans. One story that stayed with me was how they help fishermen by guiding them to fish-rich areas and even forming a boundary to trap the fish. Standing by the river, listening to stories from people who live with the forest and water every day, felt like the right way to enter a climate conference that tried to center local communities and their voices.
My first day at COP30 took place in the Green Zone, where Indigenous communities stood at the center, wearing traditional outfits, selling handmade products, and filling the space with languages and knowledge systems that rarely receive global attention. Almost every event was in Portuguese, created for those who feel the weight of climate change first. It felt honest. It felt necessary.
When I moved into the Blue Zone for the following days, I focused on ocean-climate nexus talks, especially those addressing marine pollution, ecosystem losses, and ocean protection. Each session reminded me how fragile the ocean is and how fast we are losing time. One moment that stayed with me came from Brazilian sailor Torben Grael, a five-time Olympic medalist, who said that when he began sailing 50 years ago, he never saw plastic in the ocean. Today, he sees microplastics everywhere. The heaviness in his voice conveyed more than any graph or dataset.
Across the sessions, the call to protect 30 percent of the world’s oceans by 2030 was repeated again and again, echoing the UN’s Global Biodiversity Framework. The newly released Global Tipping Points report was another urgent highlight, especially its warning that coral reefs have crossed a threshold that may not be reversible. Panelists highlighted the need for a Global Coral Reef Summit in 2026 to rally the world around what remains.
What moved me most at COP30 was the structure of the conversations in some of the sessions. Panels began with community voices, including Indigenous leaders and local people who rely on the land and ocean daily. They spoke about what they are seeing, what they are losing, and what they need. Government officials followed by outlining the actions they are taking now and the actions they can still pursue. It felt like real dialogue, like policy finally listening to lived experience. I also want to applaud the Brazilian government for what they modeled here. During my conversation with COP30’s Oceans Special Envoy, Marinez Scherer, she said that Brazil wanted to show the world what climate leadership looks like when biodiversity, Indigenous knowledge, and justice are treated as the foundation. She hopes Brazil’s approach inspires other nations to act with the same urgency.
Halfway through the conference, I realized something important: climate action doesn’t only happen in negotiation rooms. It begins in fishing villages, on riverbanks, and in the everyday knowledge of people whose lives are closely tied to nature.
Anagha Payyambally is a marine sciences Ph.D. candidate.