Good to be home

The doorbell rang. It was close to ten thirty at night. Though I was nearly falling asleep due to the jetlag, I knew who it was, and made a surprised look on my face. Mum turned to me, her face full of questions who would ring the doorbell so late.

Open the safety door, and take a look who it is, I suggested. And so mum took a peek, and laughed out loud when she realised that it was my brother standing there, and in the background, his new 'friend'. She quickly opened the door, and they hugged. I stood by, and smiled. Our family is reunited once again. Dad's portrait in the corner of the room radiated with a big happy smile too.

Brother unpacked, and took out lots of goodies for mum and his 'friend'. Flowers, wine, cheese, cookies, toothpaste, souvenirs, chocolates... never have I seen him bring so much stuff in his suitcase. Maybe he saw how I seem to always fill my suitcase with goodies for all sorts of people wherever I go, and he felt like doing the same. Brother, slowly, is really changing, and good karma seems to rub off and infect others.

Mum feeling upset that brother wasn't coming home was all gone, dissipated like mist through sunlight as she clutched onto the bouquet of colourful tulips from Holland. I could see that she was overjoyed, smiling a lot, even though it was well past her normal bedtime (and I was almost dozing off...)

Later brother said to mum why he came back, even though it'll be only for two weeks. After Carmen passed away, he realised a lot, he said. He could have used the same money for his plane ticket to buy a new TV, but he can always watch TV whenever he wants to. Whether that is true about seeing mum is not so certain. So here he is, days before mum's birthday and Mother's Day.

Both undoubtedly will be special days this year.

Condition good

I'm not sure how I managed to arrive just in time for mum's appointment with her oncologist. So, this morning we went to the hospital together. The kind doctor gave us a briefing about her latest condition, and the good news is that things are looking up.

At most mum will have to do one more treatment to make sure the cancer is completely supressed. But after that she can return back to her normal life, which means she'll be fit to travel! We spent a lot of today talking about dates and plans, and she may even go to Europe as early as end of May.... so things are looking good and I'm happy :)

Keeping a secret...

It's hard to keep a secret, especially if it's one when revealed will trigger happy reactions. My brother has already landed, and should be home within an hour or so. Mum has absolutely no idea (though, people on facebook can piece together his whereabouts after he posted a comment on my wall while transiting in Bangkok...).

Throughout the day I've been dropping hints, but mum does not suspect anything at all. In fact, she still feels somewhat upset that brother had earlier told her that he was coming, but then said he's not anymore (when in fact he is here already...) just to 'surprise' her.

I wonder how mum will react when he walks through that door.

Just got a text message from brother, telling me to keep mum awake. Problem is, I have trouble keeping awake myself...!

Arrived at TPE

I was so exhausted that as soon as I boarded I nodded off and did not realise that we had taken off. All I could recall was the annoying low whining of the engines of the Airbus 300-200 and the long, long taxi to the runway as I slipped in and out of consciousness. I remember eating, beans with mushrooms and potatoes, which actually tasted better than the meal I had in Business Class on Air Canada.

The next moment I woke up, the satellite map revealed we were just about to begin our slow descent to Taiwan. The island was but a few hundred kilometers away, and the imagination of its mountains, of the lights rushed in my blood.

The captain’s voice came on, a young, energetic one, and announced that we had been delayed due to strong headwinds. Indeed, as I looked at the flight data, we were only flying at around 600kph, whereas normally a plane like this could do close to a thousand.

Lights began to appear, ever more, until we were flying parallel to the eastern coastline. I could see the mouth of the Danshui River, its shores dotted with golden streets, and its lip bright with the floodlights and quays of the newly inaugurated Port of Taipei. The sprawl of the city lay not far away, and the flashing signal lights at the tip of the wing caught the gray shadows of a light drizzle. Outside, it was close to 25C.

The plane banked as we needed to make a 180degree turn to approach the runway with the wind. As much as I enjoy sitting by the window and spotting landmarks and sites I recognise, when the window seems to veer to close to the ground as the plane leans sideways, my palms always fill with sweat. Even more so as at the low speed we were flying so close to the ground, the lift on the wings could easily drop, and bring the plane tumbling down under the force of gravity… at least that’s my elementary understanding of flight mechanics, and of the fate of the unfortunate flight TK1951. And to add on my fears, as we banked and as the wing tips seemed to be yearning to touch the ground, strong winds made the cabin rock and drop, swing and shake turbulently. Cold sweat oozed throughout my pores as I prayed to get on the ground as soon as possible…

Miraculously, as the plane leveled for the final approach, everything was so smooth. Perhaps the calm after the turbulence, and the plane seemed to glide ever so softly onto the runway, touching down without the slightest of bumping. I hurried off the plane toward the immigration controls, but was caught between lines of loud, obnoxious Chinese tour groups. When it was my turn, the immigration officer was probably wondering why I had a red European passport, whereas the rest of the people before me had to take out their green “Exit and Entry Permit” especially reserved for people from the People’s Republic of China. After scanning my passport twice and flipping through the pages, probably wondering why I had visited this island so many times in the past six months, she closed my passport and welcomed me.

The journey home was uneventful, and I managed to quickly board the bus to downtown, even though I was eyeing around to see if there were any trace of mum or relatives. To be honest, I was a little disappointed, but then again I really did not want anyone there waiting for me, especially after being delayed and at past midnight.

Quietly as I could, I opened the door and entered. The low glow of a floor light in the living revealed the bed that mum had made for me. The house was pretty much the same as I left it. Then again, that was only one and a half months ago. I tiptoed around, but perhaps the sound of the door locking woke my mum, who called from her bedroom.

I walked toward her, and in the darkness saw only her silhouette. “I am home, mum”, I said, and gave her a big, long hug and many pats on her back. She felt thinner, but warm. “Good that you’re finally here”, she said, especially she had somehow thought that I would get here yesterday night.

In the dim light I looked at her face, her hair. Unsure whether she was wearing a wig or not, she looked more or less the same. But this was in the dark. And even in the dark, I could see that the fringes of her hair, close to her ears, at the back were the colour of salt and pepper. I guess because of the chemo she did not dye her hair, and age had returned more prominent than ever.

Listening to the croak of frogs in the distance, and the occasional sound of a lone scooter whiz past, I fell asleep. At home again.

Something different in her voice

Speaking to mum the last two days, there's something different in her voice. I'm not sure whether it's because I caught her at an inconvenient moment, but it always sounds as if she's distracted or a bit absent.

Two days ago I spoke to her, she sounded down because brother had mentioned that he might go back to see her this week, and then told her that he decided against it (whereas in fact he only told her that so it would be a surprise when he does show up at the door...) Mum's voice was sad, her response slow and hesitant sounding.

Just now I spoke to her, and she said she had been worried sick because she didn't hear from me since yesterday. Apparently she confused the date of my arrival, and she thought I was supposed to arrive yesterday. But with the time difference, it's actually today. So she was imaging that something was wrong.

Maybe I'm making something out of nothing, and that it's just a simple case of misunderstanding or maybe she's just tired.... But it makes me worry how her health really is now...

At NRT

Some fifteen hours later, I land at Narita Airport. Outside, the sun is blaring and it's supposed to be 23C. I wouldn't know, as I'm stuck here for the next four hours waiting for my connection to Taipei. I originally wanted to leave the airport for a few hours, but arriving here I just decided not to do that... I'm not feeling all that adventurous at the moment. All I want is to get home quickly and to see my mum. Besides, I have some work I need to finish off...

It feels so surreal to be back in Asia... On the decent towards Japan, I saw the coastline, the rice fields, the green mountains and paddies. A land dotted with squarish architecture that's iconic of the region. To think, a dozen hours or so ago, I was looking down at the seemingly endless vast expanse of Canada that stretched to the horizon and beyond.

Right now, sitting at a desk in a quiet corner of Terminal 1 away from the crowd, away from the Asian shoppers (and there are many, as this is Asia after all...). The broadcast in a foreign language, and every few minutes the vending machine next to me bursts to life with (what I presume) is "Feed me with your coins!" That is... if I have any local currency.

I feel somehow so estranged from this reality, like I'm existing in another plane (no pun intended). I see the passengers walking around me. I see the jumbos parked on the tarmac, waiting to leave to destinations around the world. And to think last time I walked around I was in Montreal, where it was snowy on the ground, where the sun was barely piercing through the clouds...

The Few Washed

If anything free came out of all the hours and distances of I covered flying around the world in the past year, it is two upgrade certificates which allow me to move a few rows closer to the captain’s seat.

So on this long trek across Canada and the Pacific, I lifted myself from the crowded and stinking confines of the ‘Great Unwashed’ to the ambiance-light and perfume filled cabin of the ‘Few Washed’.

Already at check-in and boarding, we were already separated into the (aerial) “Haves” and “Have nots” (a practice, mind you, also done at L**den University). A red carpet, and none of the queuing and waiting with whiny old ladies and crying children, leads to a special designated counter, cordoned off in a section of the terminal to prevent inter-(booking)class mingling. The luggage is granted the privilege of bearing special priority tags and given the right to swallow a few more pounds than the rest of the riff raff in Economy. Upon seeing my booking class, every single sentence seems to end with “…Mr. Chen”. “Would you like a window or aisle seat, Mr Chen?” “We have availability on an earlier flight. Would you like to be on that one, Mr. Chen?” “I have tagged your luggage all the way to Taipei, Mr. Chen.” “The boarding gate is A51, and you have time to enjoy our Maple Leaf Lounge, Mr. Chen”. I wondered whether my suitcases were on their way to a cushioned room with their elitist counterparts prior to being petted, handled with the utmost care, and gently lifted and placed on board the plane.

Security screening too is segregated for the aerial “Haves”, and signs directed me to a special line with fewer people and away from the looming dark shadow of the full body scanner. It appears the Few Washed seem to pose less of a security risk than the rest. Indeed, which attempt at bringing down a plane, either with tap water, a shoe or underwear, was by someone sitting up front? Looking to my side, I shook my head with pity when I saw the row upon row of frustrated passengers with their belts unbuckled and with their creams, gels, and tampons exposed for the screeners to sift through.

When boarding at the gate, the Few Washed get special mention, and are ushered through a special lane like VIPs. Everyone else had to impatiently make way, watch on, and wait for the ‘Chosen Ones’ to pass. I quickly walked through, ever conscious of the envious eyes that watched me jump in front of everyone and forever listening out for the person who may inadvertently just tell me to go stand at the back of the line to queue up like everyone else. I was lucky that despite my jeans and riff-rafty appearance nobody challenged me infiltrating the ranks of the high-flying elites.

I found my seat, and I did not have to walk far to find my bizarre-looking capsule next to the window (as requested). I settled in, and stretched my legs, and avoided looking in the eyes of the Great Unwashed as they shuffled by one by one. A few girls from a Canadian sports team played with the controlled of an empty seat behind me before dragging themselves into the ‘no-go’ zone. And I later found out a team mate of their sat alone a few seats away from me, while everyone else squeezed into the back of the plane. So much for team spirit.


The personal capsule is laid out at an awkward angel to the cabin wall, in a way that whenever I look up I can see what other people are doing (and vice versa). Even with my bag underneath a little footrest in front of me, I had plenty of room; not to mention the unused overhead compartment which can easily fit a grown child inside. Due to the lack of space in the back, a member of the Great Unwashed parted company with his hand luggage, which was offered space up in front. I am sure the hand luggage will be more rested and relaxed than the person.

At the back of my mind I was reminded of a friend who had pointed out that in Business Class I take up the same amount space as four other members of the Great Unwashed (…so much for AirWei’s CO2 reduction policy). I looked back, and saw the stinking masses crowded in their narrow 32” seats, sitting right next to total strangers who may well suffer from chronic symptoms of airborne flatulence… or who may very well be the next Mr. Park (luckily, the cabin crew walk around the dimmed cabin with a flashlight…). Occasionally, you do have the curious Unwashed poking their heads through the separator curtain. Sometimes you even see the stray Unwashed wander down the corridor and admiring the full lie-flat beds, 16” flat screens, with their mouth watering as they eye the baskets of fresh fruits and steaming dim sum in the galley.

The cabin attendant came around before take off and offered hot towels and a drink (one of many, many to come), and even asked if I wanted my coat checked. Even sitting in the back of the plane, crowded as it already is, I like to hug my coat throughout the flight, so I declined. Together with Yuri (the Space Monkey), I played around with the seven (no less!) buttons that controlled various aspects of my seat, until I got bored and began to browse through the safety manual. In fact, there are different instructions for the Few Washed, for the locations of the lifevest and shape of the seatbelt are all different from the back. I wondered to myself whether in the (as they always say “unlikely”) event of an emergency, the oxygen masks (with soft cushions to prevent and foam protector guards chafing the neck and ears, no doubt) will drop first for people up in front, and whether life rafts are also segregated by (booking)class.

Despite the hospitality, and nice presentation, the meal was actually a disappointment. Even though as soon as I was handed the plastic-coated menu I was undecided between whether to have the Thai Red Curry, or the Braised Black Cod, or the Grilled Alberta AAA Beef Tenderloin or the Kaiseki-style Japanese meal (with sake, salmon, chicken, egg roll and beef appertisers accompanied with pickles, steamed rice and noodles, followed by chicken with sesame sauce, spinach, bamboo shoots, red and yellow pepper… and let’s not forget, miso soup), they had me down for the Asian Vegetarian meal. It consisted of some salad with pieces of white things (that suspiciously tasted, felt and smelt like chicken…), a fruit salad, and rice with curry flavoured peas. The rice was actually kind of raw, but being used to the mass-microwaved food in the back, I did not complain. Unlike a couple behind me (most likely also members of the riff raff upgraded into the elite zone), who demanded many times that they wanted “bubblies” as soon as they got onboard. If I got hungry, I could always go down to request cheese platters, grapes, cereaels or instant noodles. At one point I got a piece of banana bread served on a plate which came together with a napkin, a knife and a fork (alas, no spoon…). Unwilling to betray my lowly class status, I opened the napkin, and when nobody was watching used my bare (but today being one of the Few Washed, washed) hands.

On my seat was an amenity kit, with a pair of very blue socks, toothbrush, body and face lotion, and an eye mask. The toilet is surprisingly wide and bright, and while answering nature’s call, you can even look outside to admire the massive GE90 engine or watch cotton clouds float by across the blue ocean. Again, these are the luxuries of space and scenery the Great Unwashed (back there, with their unsanitary and developing country conditions of one-toilet-per-fifty-passengers) can only imagine.

And to think these two different worlds, never in between shall meet, are just separated by a thin, gray curtain. They should have considered building a bulletproof wall. Bolted and locked, like the one to the cockpit.

"Invictus"

I am no fan of sports, much less of rugby (even though it is a “hooligan’s sport played by gentlemen”). But “Invectus” was more than just about men running on a big field, kicking and passing an olive-shaped ball sideways and backwards. It was about a sport that managed to bring a new nation together, and about the man who lived forgiveness and aspired for unity.

Set in a South Africa shortly after its transition to democracy with the election of Nelson Mandela, the movie touches the heart of a newborn nation, and deals with the story of a president’s attempt to unite a people divided for far too long by race and colour.

Rugby seemed at first the most unlikely means to build bridges and trust between South Africans. The green and gold colours and emblems of the “(Spring)Bokke” (“Antelope”) was for a long while a very poignant symbol of Apartheid. Before, while the whites cheered what was supposed to be the ‘national’ team of South Africa, the majority black population would rally for whichever opposing country. How do you build a “rainbow nation” that is “hungry for greatness”? How do you gently leave behind the past and allay suspicions of revenge and repeats of the worst excesses of what is happening in Zimbabwe? How do you address the cruel wrongs of a segregationist pariah regime and soothe the collective trauma and suffering of the vast majority?

Through reconciliation and forgiveness. Through dialogue and sharing stories. Through a president whose seemingly endless dark nights and days on Robbein Island was lit by the beauty and healing of poetry and humanity. Through victory at the 1995 Rugby World Cup And through team captain Francois Pienaard who shared the same dream of togetherness as Mandela, and who sang the same song of hope and freedom which to his black compatriots sang.

Morgan Freeman’s true-to-life performance captures the essence Mandela, from his genuine concern for all those around him, down to the dimpled smile and infectious swaying dance and hand movements of South Africa’s former dissident turned president. South Africa may still have its fair share of economic and social woes, and may still be plagued by its recent past, and by the great divides of race and class. But if the movie has a message, it is that in those moments of collective euphoria and celebration, those memories of pain and suffering grow ever paler.

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Last day

My cat is rubbing against my leg and sitting next to me. Occassionally, she jumps on my desk and eyes me from her crouched position, purring whenever I give her a soft stroke. She knows how to touch a soft spot in me, a spot that's made even softer as tomorrow I will leave her again for a number of weeks... I wish I did not have to, and looking at the way she looks at me makes me feel guilty this time tomorrow she will be all alone. Maybe she enjoys that... maybe she likes to be 'boss' and roam around like she is the queen of the household, lie down and shed fur wherever she pleases... but I somehow know that she enjoys company, as much I enjoy hers.

Yes, my suitcase from last time has hardly had time to collect dust, and I am again on the move. At least in the last couple of weeks I've really managed to be productive, not just with my research, but also helping out a bit with my school's journal. Overall, it's been a good few weeks, despite the loneliness getting to me at times. Lonely, not only because I long for someone to be close to me, but also because I sometimes wish I could have someone to talk to, to share feelings without feeling like I'm unloading and taking up their time...

At least when I go back to Taiwan, I won't be so "lonely" anymore... It'll be a different kind of lonely. Sure I'll be with my family, with mum almost constantly, but I won't have friends I can talk to or see when I feel like it.

It'll be different than being alone here, as I have something to do, someone to take care of, and that somehow make the days go by really quickly. On the eve of me leaving, I wonder how mum really is doing... she says she is well on the phone... but nothing can be more real than seeing her, holding her in my arms, seeing how the hair has fallen out since I last saw her...

I'm not sure how I will react, how I will feel inside, but what the case will be, I must be strong.

"Breakfast at Tiffany's"

Sometimes I listen to the radio, and a song comes on, taking me back to 'those' days, filling my heart with warmth of youth's yesteryears...

"You say that we've got nothing in common
No common ground to start
from and we're falling apart
You'll say the world has come between us
Our lives have come between us still I know you just don't care
...
I see you, the only one who knew me
And now your eyes see through me I guess I was wrong
So what now it's plain to see we...'re over
And I hate when things are over when so much is left undone"

Dreams...

Been sleeping bad lately
Just troubled by dreams, perhaps because I've been pushing myself too hard, working, working almost constantly. I go to sleep, and am often caught between that stage of consciousness and sub-conscious... I can almost hear the cat next to me, breathing, but I am in my dream-like state of mind, experiencing, watching, feeling, being absorbed in a world of fantasy and makebelieve conjured by the inner images and imaginations of my mind. I often 'see' planes, 'feel' like I'm on a plane ... 'see' myself flying to somewhere (or worse, crashing...)

And I wake up, tired, drained and mouth dry, with a tough start to the new day.