Taylor in Town?

Apparently, the worlds of international justice and confusion get along well. The Hague is already home to the ICTY, the ICC, the ICJ, the US-Iran Claims Tribunal, and the PCA. Which of the previously-mentioned court(s)/tribunal(s) was/were established by the UN? And in which one was Milosevic tried? The confusion in the public arena is completely understandable considering all of these lovely abbreviations. And now, another acronym-the SCSL (Special Court for Sierra Leone)-wants to send its most high-profile client to The Netherlands. I have no problem with Charles Taylor heading to The Hague (while in custody, of course!), but I worry that having the ICC physically host the SCSL will simply lead to more mix-ups and misinformation regarding jurisdiction and responsibility.

However, I am willing to disregard all of this if his transfer up into central Europe would increase security and stability in the sub-region of Africa. The question is: Will it? Or is the strength and success of the SCSL attributed to the fact that it is located in the country of those which it intends to aid and inform?

Up

The clouds move faster here than anywhere I've ever known. They move fast and are reflected by my glass-panelled building. The people on the street look up and see not me. I am a cloud, a bird, a plane passing by. I am invisible behind my twelfth story window.

At (?) The Hague

Thanks to the world of international broadcast television (and to the former Serbian President), the entire world should (SHOULD!) know now where I'm living. A certain arguably left-leaning American broadcast channel liked to display an on-screen map of Europe and The Netherlands while reporters' voice-overs explained the events of last weekend in a very business-like manner. A little red dot on the map indicated where The Hague (also known as Den Haag, s'Gravenhage, and La Haye) is located. Other stations chose to send their reporters out into the rain; the poor, drenched souls reported that Slobodan Milosevic was found "lifeless" in his cell at The Hague. (At The Hague. At?) The death of this prominent figure has brought many questions to the forefront, the least of them being Where in the World is Clara the Brit? Because the trial was not completed, because the implementation of the tribunal cost many UN members quite a chunk of cash, because some claim Milo did not "see justice," and because the most high-profile defendant at a very expensive temporary court in a small city on the shore of the North Sea was never convicted of anything, the media began questioning the reputation of international courts as well as the efficiency and effectiveness of international criminal justice as a whole. It must not be forgotten, however, that this tribunal has provided international law with a legacy on which to build and has set the foundation for the creation of a permament international court. True, things did not go as planned. True, flaws of the system were certainly made very clear. But should the media choose to concentrate on the more positive contributions the tribunal has made to society, I--for one--would not complain.

Note to Self

Remember to change your Yahoo! weather location to Anchorage or Albuquerque. When you're living in damp Holland, waking up, checking your email, and seeing that it is 76 degrees and partly cloudly in Southern California does not do wonders for your mood.

I've complained a lot about the Dutch, I know. And I could easily spend the next paragraph telling you about how my landlord claims that it is my problem-not hers-that my shower is spewing sludge (as Summer would say, “ew”), but I thought I'd take a post to praise those who dwell in these low lands. What a concept, no?

[Inspired by moments on the way to station on this 10th of March.]

Even in the most torrential of gales, the Dutch are out and about, in their red pants and orange sweaters, pausing only when a STOP sign interrupts the bike lane. This bright-colored clothing trend irked me at first. It went against everything I’d subconsciously stored in the Fashion department of my brain. A girl in Los Angeles could never get away with throwing all colors of the rainbow into one ensemble, but the Dutch really couldn’t give a damn. And I love that. They wear whatever they want, unabashedly… even to the office. And they run for trams, for trains, for busses, for anything they think they might perhaps miss. Again, unabashedly. This shamelessness has me smitten. I can see the same people in other cities worrying as to whether people would find it strange that a woman dressed to the nines passed them in full sprint in order to catch the number 72 inner city bus. But in Holland, it’s just another gal who can’t be late for work.

Lost?

It's been a while since I've really needed help with directions around here. While in Amsterdam the other day, I stood by a canal, map clenched in one hand and my Lonely Planet in the other, hoping to figure out if I'd gone too far. People squeezed around me on the sidewalk and locked their bikes to the railing I leaned on, but not a single one stopped to ask me whether I needed help finding something. I guess this wouldn't normally strike me as odd, but I had just recently spent a weekend in Scotland where--even if I had no map out and just looked slightly dazed--passers-by would smile, inquire after my health, and help me find whatever I may or may not have been looking for...