Relinquishing U.S. citizenship in Tokyo (part 3 of 4)
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| A Taipei tangent? |
My friend (who I treated to dinner and drinks over the holidays to thank her for all her help) apologizes for her colleague's behavior, saying she has a little bit of a reputation for flakiness. I call her number. She then makes sure Oshima is aware that she's going to get a call on her desk, then transfers me.
After getting Oshima on the voice line, I explain that this will be the third time I've been to the embassy and I've already spoken with the person who did due diligence and made sure I received my obligatory speech about the seriousness of the action, and I've given it some careful thought over the holidays — あけましておめでとうございます! (Happy New Year!) by the way — and can she set me up with the actual consul person for the final step? Oshima says sure, please hold.
I hear hold music. About ten minutes later … click!
She — accidentally, I hope — hung up on me while waiting on hold. I immediately call her back within ten seconds (after swearing a bit, as she can't hear me), knowing she has to be at her desk because she just hung up on me while at her desk.
It goes straight to voice mail. So I sigh, and call my contact and have her transfer the call after explaining that we got accidentally disconnected. I lied and said it was my cell phone connection, because I didn't want Oshima or her to get in trouble. She connects me to Oshima.
Oshima apologizes and says she's having difficulty finding an open date on the calendar. Could we continue this conversation via email perhaps? Why yes, we can! I say. She asks me for my email address and I give it to her. I then hang up and await her email.
One whole week passes. I then receive a template email from the embassy. In addition to asking me to guess a date that the consul officer is free, it asks me to digitize and send/fax the forms that I've already provided the embassy. To add insult to injury, I can't really reply directly to Oshima; the mail is unsigned, and the return address goes to a generic "embassy" address used by a pool of workers, not to any specific individual that is familiar with my case.
I call my contact at the embassy and explain the situation.
"I'm sorry. They told me that I'm not allowed to help you personally anymore, because it's not fair to everybody else that has to go through the queue."
So now I'm cut off and have to start over, re-submitting my paperwork and probably will have to talk to somebody that doesn't know me and I'll have to redundantly answer the same questions.
Despite my frustration with the constant (unintentional) runarounds, unanswered calls, and unresponsiveness I'm getting from the bureaucracy at the Tokyo Embassy, I have no choice but to deal with it. After all, it's not like I can go to a competing embassy across the street if I'm unsatisfied with the service level of the Tokyo embassy, right?
… OR CAN I? …
Funny story: my high school cheerleader sweetheart, at 17, broke up with me right after prom because I did not understand the geopolitical differences between the People's Republic of China and the Republic of China. When quizzed about it, I felt like George W. Bush being asked who was the president of Taiwan during the election season.
Unlike the templated cookie cutter web sites of the other U.S. embassies and consulates in the world, the American Institute in Taiwan (AIT) actually mentions the renunciation procedure on its website, and it gives a expectation for the number of visits!
A bonus: because of U.S. politics and its relationship with the People's Republic of China, America can't have an "embassy" or "consulate" in Taiwan. Instead, it has a "non-profit organization" [wink wink] that just so happens to perform many of the duties and services that real embassies and consulates do — thanks to it being staffed by "private staff on leave from the State Department" [wink wink nudge nudge]. All the benefits of a consulate/embassy ACS but without the safe-from-tank assault walls, U.S. military guards, blast doors, bulletproof glass, and panic buttons! I may actually get to speak to a person face-to-face, and breathe the same air! Well worth the airplane ticket cost, in my opinion. I'd make a vacation out of it and get the great Taiwanese culture and food! Kind of like flying to Vegas to get married. Except I'm flying to Taipei to get a figurative divorce from my original government!
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| The AIT looks cozy and inviting! |
Double bonus: They give a Taiwan local phone number to call to make an appointment! I take out my cell and call it on a lark. It goes to voice mail. Darn, too good to be true. Nevertheless, I tell them that I'm an American, I live in Japan, and I want to relinquish my citizenship. And I give them an international country code +81 Japan cell phone number to call me back on.
I get a call back! In less than 24 hours! And, the woman helping me ("Itoge") is a Japanese-American and thus familiar with the nuances of relinquishment with respect to Japanese nationality! I can't believe my luck!
"When's the earliest I can make an appointment?"
"Anytime next week is fine."
She asks why don't I just do it in Tokyo. I sort of fib. "I travel a lot [true] and I've been having trouble getting a date that works for both the embassy and me. [also true]." I leave out the part about how I can't get a real human to email me or anybody to return my calls or messages. Don't want to sound negative when you're trying to get something done, you know?
After finishing explaining my situation, she said if I was to relinquish my nationality with one appointment, she would need to call the U.S. Embassy in Tokyo and confirm they read me my "understanding of the ramifications and consequences." According to her, if they did that, then I could do it with just one appointment in Taiwan. I explain that because I'm flying in, I will not have flexibility with my date or the person I meet. No problem, she said. So I give her Oshima's name, and she promises to call me back the next week to confirm a date. I'm about ready to use my smart phone and book a flight to Taipei that day.
"When's the earliest I can make an appointment?"
"Anytime next week is fine."
She asks why don't I just do it in Tokyo. I sort of fib. "I travel a lot [true] and I've been having trouble getting a date that works for both the embassy and me. [also true]." I leave out the part about how I can't get a real human to email me or anybody to return my calls or messages. Don't want to sound negative when you're trying to get something done, you know?
After finishing explaining my situation, she said if I was to relinquish my nationality with one appointment, she would need to call the U.S. Embassy in Tokyo and confirm they read me my "understanding of the ramifications and consequences." According to her, if they did that, then I could do it with just one appointment in Taiwan. I explain that because I'm flying in, I will not have flexibility with my date or the person I meet. No problem, she said. So I give her Oshima's name, and she promises to call me back the next week to confirm a date. I'm about ready to use my smart phone and book a flight to Taipei that day.
The day before I'm supposed to receive a call from Itoge from the AIT, Oshima actually calls me on my phone (a first).
"I've set up an appointment with our consular officer for you the next week. All your paperwork is in order. You don't need to do anything more except show up. And this will be your last time you need to come to the embassy."
I'm not sure if Itoge from AIT calling Oshima had anything to do with the 180° turnaround in the service and response level I received from the U.S. embassy in Tokyo — if she even did call her. I like to think it did, rather than chalk it up to coincidence.
Anyway, from here onward the relinquishment process would go real smooth, with the best professionalism and competence being displayed by the actual consul officer in Tokyo.
However, if I were to do the process from scratch again, or if you're in a position to "shop" for an diplomatic post to renounce/relinquish your U.S. citizenship, you could do worse than the AIT in Taipei.

