Go Israel

Been looking forward to this trip for a number of weeks, and finally: the land of Israel awaits!

I wonder what awaits me there, in this troubled land of world religions and of intermingling peoples and cultures.

What strange sights, what beauties, what shocks and awes to clean the mind of stereotypes and open up eyes to a whole new world, situated in the cradle of the old.

Legalisation Politics

So I finally received the documents that I have been waiting for for over a month. The legalised death certificate of my dad, and proof that I am indeed his son.

Internationalist have to deal with private international law when it comes to matters like death and inheritance, and in order for a document issued by the authorities of one State to be recognised by another State, you need to go through a procedure called legalisation. So I started this whole process back in March, and took all these official documents, first, to the district court to get it officially notarised, and then to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to get it official certified. Then, I had to take it to the Dutch embassy in Taiwan to get the document legalised.

And this is where the problem comes. There is no Dutch embassy in Taiwan, because there are no official diplomatic relations between the two States (due to China's protests and bullying). There is however a bureau called the "Netherlands Trade and Investment Office", which actually does much more than just point investors in the right direction. This is actually the place you go to apply for visas, for consular assistance, and everything else that you may think is associated with the work of an embassy. The only difference is that it is NOT called an embassy.

I opened the letter from the "Netherlands Trade and Investment Office" just now, and to my surprise was the accompanying letter, signed and stamped by the "Head of Administration and Consular Affairs":


"Legalisation of Taiwanese documents is unfortunately not possible. Due to the lack of diplomatic relations between the Netherlands and Taiwan, there is also a lack of possibility to authenticate the formal competence and signature/stamp of the Taiwanese authorities through the means of legalisation.

The Authority which has issued the accompanying piece (of document) is known to the Netherlands Trade and Investment Office in Taipei."



So what does this mean? To be honest, I do not know.

It is a gray area of international law that I have yet to come across, but it is no less fascinating. Partly because it is an affront to be told, directly and indirectly, that I come from a country that has no status whatsoever in the so-called international community. It makes you wonder what credentials and what privileges new States such as Kosovo have in order to become part of this community.

It is also fascinating, partly because by implication, the lack of diplomatic relations between my two home States may mean that my existence and birth in Taiwan is implicitly denied outright. Does this mean that I am "illegal", in the sense that I do not exist in law? If I do not legally exist, does this mean I have no rights (and rights to claim) at all? Thank you, China, for pressuring the international community to sever all sorts of diplomatic links with Taiwan so that I, and many millions, have to face this kind of difficulties in claiming my inherent right to existence. But ironically, I as a Taiwanese citizen have more freedom to travel anywhere in the world than the ordinary Chinese. The world of diplomacy and politics works in mysterious ways.

Of course I am sure that I am not the first Taiwanese to be faced with this problem, especially given that out of some 198 States in the world, only 25 officially recognise Taiwan and has diplomatic relations with this international pariah. But I am curious how the Dutch authorities will deal with this issue, and whether they will recognise my relations with my dad as "legitimate".

Trip

I am quitting my job! In fact I told my workplace already a number of weeks ago that I do not plan to stay on until the very end of my contract, which is end of July. I just do not see any need to, and to be honest my work organising the competition has been done, and done very successfully. And so I can leave this job, and be glad I did a great job that people are going to remember. Whatever happens after me, or how my employer deals with finding a replacement is no longer my concern.

To be honest, I am quite disappointed and bitter about my workplace. Not the work that I do, not because I have to put in so many extra hours and even weekends to make sure that the event last week was a huge success. It is just that the workplace is stuffy with people who care more about image and money than really what you are doing... and the recognition I get is close to minimal. I had an appointment with the personnel secretary to discuss the days I had saved up for leave. Since I started last August, I did not take a single holiday... instead I was working overtime, more than double the laughable 22.6hours that I am officially employed for. I asked whether the overtime that I worked every single day could be turned into my leave days... and the reply was no. At least, not that simple. To qualify for overtime-turned-days-off, I must first 'apply' for it every time I work extra. Which means, every single day since I started working I must go tell my superior after 5pm that I will be working extra. And only then can they calculate my overtime, and turn that into days off.

I explained to the lady that my job is impossible to accomplish with just 22.6hours a week. How can a function that used to employ two people working close to 40hours a week in total be accomplished in just a little more than half the amount of time? And how do you expect people to work motivatedly by slashing people's salary? Outrageous. Then the lady said I should talk to my superiors and arrange something. But she was the one in charge of personnel...

Anyways, this is just the kind of rubbish I have to face at work, and the more I see it, the more I scoff at the kind of disorganisation and bureaucracy that is my workplace. How can a university that loves to pride itself on its (self-trumpeted) reputation and (false) high quality of education be so rotten and exploitative of its employees?

So I will in three weeks time leave this workplace and be glad I am able to get away. Others are not so lucky.

Kicking the bucket

Imagine if you only had a few months to live. How would you live? Most importantly, "Have you found joy in your life and have you given joy to other people?" These are wonderful questions that are asked in the movie The Bucket List.

My brother had recommended the movie to me back in February, but because of all the personal issues happening then, I avoided watching anything which I thought might make me even more emotional. Indeed, as predicted, the movie made me cry. Not just a tear out of the corner of my eyes. But really cry, as in, tears flowing down my cheeks, and my heart filled with such heart-wrenching sourness and pain from having been so touched and moved by the lines and the interactions between the characters.

The fate of two dying men portrayed by Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholaso are brought together when they go into hospital to be diagnosed with incurable cancer. One is from a simple family, filled with love and happiness, and clings onto hope and faith. The other is a bitter and successful millionaire who has little love and boundless amounts of money, but is an utter cynic and has no faith. Their last days are intertwined as they make a list of things they wish to fulfil in their last days. Not just fun and excitement, but also reconciliation and making contact and peace with lost loved ones. Because there is no greater pain than dying with regret.

Seeing the two lie in bed, with tubes connected to their bodies, I cannot but think back to the image of my own dad lying in bed, silent and dying... He did not speak. He did not struggle, and now and then he opened his eyes to look at me. I smiled back, and still he did not speak. He could not speak. But what was going through his mind? What did he want to say? What wishes did he want to fulfil?

The thought of this made me cry... the thought of my hands cupped around his, that feeling of his skin against mine, that warmth of his cheeks clinging onto mine... I miss that. How I so miss that.

Renewed freedom

Suddenly, a deep sadness overcame me. It was dark, time unknown, and I started to weep. Thoughts of the absence of my dad, images of the audience before me applauding in a standing ovation, echoes of the countless words of success and congratulations, the sight of my mum in hospital. It was just too much to bear, too much to handle.

I hugged the blanket that dad had given me last time he came to see me. He said the blanket would keep me warm, and I especially needed it last night. The days of the Competition has finally come to an end. What a relief it was. I stepped out of the Peace Palace grounds, saw the sun, felt the light Spring breeze, and felt a heavy, heavy weight lift. The past few weeks have been such a tension to carry, the past few days such a ride between ups and downs, disappointments and embrassments. All I needed was a break, and sleep, to recover from the emotionally draining and physically abusive experiences.

I slept, but I know that my memories and dreams were filled with flashbacks of the events in the last few days. The embarrassment of humiliating a number of special guests, the discomfort of having to deal with unpleasant bickering between my own assistants, the unease I felt when people wanted me to pose take pictures with them, as if I were some kind of hero and idol... But on the other hand, there were the genuine kindness and assitance of strangers and dear ones, the genuine, warm words of gratitude and congratulations, and the hugs that I received from total strangers who were so appreciative of and impressed with the organisation.

I stood on that stage, people applauding before me, giving me nods of approval, smiles of appreciation and respect. I blushed, and smiled, nodding back, my heart silently calling out to them and thanking them for their kindness and for their recognition. But at the same time, a nagging thought pestered me and faught against the sense of personal achievement and success... what of all these things that went horribly wrong? What of all these failings like the incident of a collapsing colleague, the chaotic and confused award ceremony? What of the disappointed and humiliated looks of the sponsors who had come from so far away?

And, as the crowd applauded, I could not but think of and thank my mum, my dad... They could not be there, they could not see this impressive hall, this impressive crowd, and they could not feel or begin to imagine the overwhelming sense of pride and triumph that overcame me and swept me so suddenly away... I missed my mum, my dad... I missed them terribly, and wished they could be there to see it all, to feel it all, to hear all the words of congratulations and gratitude that showered over me again and again. But dad has sadly gone... mum is sadly missing.... and left behind is an emptiness that echoed again and echoed in my heart as the sound of applause echoed again and again in my ears...

The pain, the pride, the sadness and the smiles of joy. Mingled together like a poisonous mixture that drained me so like a trauma. Time flew by, people passed me by, hands gripped mine, and hugs embraced me. And inside is an emptiness that I cannot express.

An emptiness that expressed itself in the tears that fell as I suddenly awoke in the middle of the night, and cried.