Into the World:
The Random Thoughts in My Mind

In the eastern suburbs of Taipei, a little rural township nestles amid the northern reaches of Taiwan's central mountain range.  A little railway runs through the valley, bisecting the township's component villages and bringing in tourists from all over the island and beyond into the embraces of their splendidly well-preserved architectures of the past and winding, hilly roads frequented in the township's glorious past as a top coal-mining spot.  Honestly, the villages themselves are not that old, but that feel of "living history," along with all the foods and sights reminiscent of the past draw massive crowds on a regular weekend.

The first rays of light in the morning accompanies the receding darkness of the night.  When bright colors of nature once again scar off the uniform blackness that enveloped the land, it is time to start anew, completely anew.  The clear blue sky heads into the mind through the eyes, clearing out any mental debris that tired it from the night before.  Refreshing, reinvigorating...it re-balances the senses and reassures one that what is past is the past, and what is future starts now, ready to be written on a new, blank chapter.

When talking about Taiwanese politics, China is the elephant in the room.  These words from Western media should not and indeed really do not face disagreement even here in Taiwan.  Certainly, for an island where 40% of exports head to China and 10% of citizens live in China, to speak of political issues in a Sino-centric fashion would not be at all excessive or exaggerating.  And looking at events of the past across the Strait and potential repercussions for the future , the fixation of local politicians and common people with China is very well justified.

At one moment the author and his friend were the only customers in a quiet hole-in-the-wall halal restaurant, and just five minutes later, to their bewilderment, the shop was getting over run by a Chinese tourist group, who took up 3/4 of the restaurant in two waves.  Even as massive, money-wielding Chinese tourists have become a common sight abroad in the past decade, this one was maybe a bit subtly different.  The venue was a Muslim restaurant, and the tourist group was composed fully of Chinese Muslims taking perhaps their first trips to Taiwan.

The ongoing political stalemate in Thailand, entering an even grander stage of opposition protests and incumbent counter-protests to paralyze Bangkok, seems to see no end.  Fueled by continued anger over talks of inappropriate use of national funds, hidden corruption , and unjustifiable grips on political power by the so-called "Thaksin regime", the opposition seems to still have plenty of firepower left despite private murmurs among its supporters that they are pushing too far with their demands, and that their lives are increasingly being disrupted by the constant need to be on the streets.

It is not particularly surprisingly that as people get older and older, their attitude toward the coming of a new year turn from excitement and anticipation to something more akin to avoidance, nostalgia, or in extreme cases, hatred.  When one starts to become more aware of age and less aware of concrete progress in life, the passage of time, as symbolized by coming of a new year, becomes more and more a sign of meaningless aging, of another year passed without significant accomplishments or achievements, and, again, in extreme cases, another step closer to that inevitable end of human life.

Two guys were sitting in a casual Japanese restaurants.  The waitress shows up at their table with their lunches in hand.  "Sorry, the soup from one set and the rice from the other will come later," she noted apologetically.  The two men did not seem to mind.  They carry on chatting and eating whatever that was already served at their table.  Almost done with their incomplete meals, and noting that the rice and soup have yet to arrive, they call over the waitress to ask.  Embarrassed about her memory loss, she quickly ran back to the kitchen and brought out rice and soup to the table.

Tucked in a densely forested northeastern corner of Quezon City lies University of Philippines-Silliman, the main (and the largest) campus of the UP system that is the cornerstone of the country’s publicly funded tertiary education system.  Every year, 2000 freshman from all over the country, selected based on scores on a tough and highly competitive entrance exam, enters the campus, receiving a heavily subsidized education courtesy of the Philippine government.

The basic principles of economics goes something like this: the greater the demand for something, the higher the price for that something will be.  More people will go produce that something because they know they can make good money of it, creating more competition for that something among the producers.  And when there is more competition, the producers will seek to create better version of that something faster and cheaper than others so that s/he can get a bigger share of the demand than others, and make more money.

My Malaysian Chinese girlfriend frequently speak of how pushy her parents can be.  Not only run errands for the house, force her to go to university to study what they dictate, and compel her to help out with the family business on a more permanent basis.  She tells me that she just want to get away from her family and move far far away to become independent  just like what I am currently doing by living and working in Malaysia.  While such complaints are common among Asians growing up in the West with its strong individualistic values, it is rather interesting to observe similar mentality in collectivist Asia .

While the overseas Chinese sites and commentators have been abuzz with videos, pictures, and stories remembering that fateful day 23 years ago, there was an eerie silence on the Chinese blogosphere, punctuated by short bursts of coded messages with indirect references.  Most of them disappear from cyberspace in matter of minutes, thanks to extra-diligent monitoring by relevant personnel at the various mainland-based social networking sites, but the few that avoid their meticulous reviews of new contents then go on to ignite a viral round of coded reply before the whole thread disappears.

Walking through the LSE library during the exam study period can be an experience in itself. Students, sitting quietly in their reserved desks and tables , seem to have not moved from that exact position in days. Behind piles of books, printed documents, and empty cans of Red Bull are sometimes near non-human-like red eyes, accentuated by the unnatural puffiness of their darkened skin beneath them. Sometimes, close-distance observation is not even needed for knowing that they have been in the same spot for a long, long time...one simply has to open one's nostrils to the bodily scents emitted in the area...

It is sometimes curious to find employers dishing out job offers with the precondition that the prospect employee achieve a certain level of grades upon graduation.  Head-scratching how that would work, considering that under the British system with its all-or-nothing 100% final exam system, the final results will not be available until the November after graduation, when the new employee is already, perhaps, been working full-time for quarter of a year.  So what if the expected level of grades was not achieved?  Does that mean the employee is then fired, not taking into account the good work of last 3 months?

Another day sitting in the always-crowded individual study spaces in the LSE main library.  There is not a single open seat in sight as dozens of students, in collective dead silence, pour over (or pretend to pour over) their study notes and textbooks to prepare for upcoming exams.  Suddenly, footsteps are heard, everyone stop what their doing and look up.  They notice a new guy walking into the packed quiet area, checking out something on his smartphone, and then looking at the seat numbers on already occupied desks.

Being in any university, one has to encounter at least well-organized ethnic society on campus. From the Russian to the Australian, from the Portuguese to the Argentinian, these tight-knit clubs are seem to definitely offer one thing: a home away from home for the students of that particular ethnicity or nationality in the university, maintaining regular contacts with fellow countrymen bolstered with the language, cuisine, and occasional small chats about TV shows and celebrities from back home.

Two Chinese grad students from LSE walked into a half-empty Chinese restaurant in the middle of the equally empty London Chinatown, looking for a quick late-night meal over a casual conversation in Chinese. The restaurant has about two dozen big round tables in a bright-lit atmosphere. Three or four groups of white people were having loud conversations in English over their meals and a few drinks. The two LSE students, seemingly the only Chinese customers at that time, were shooed by the waiters speaking heavily accented English to a small square table in the poorly lit back corner of the dining, skipping past many better tables closer to the entrance. Perhaps less than a couple of minutes after sitting down, the Chinese were immediately compelled to place their orders for food and drinks. After the food arrived, the staff of the restaurant came to check on our "progress" many times, and as soon as we were done, our table was cleaned and complimentary desserts presented.

"I remember those days when we were just playing around in the little stream around our house...there were no pollution, no social pressures, no corruptions...sure, we were poor, but everyone was really happy because everyone was equally poor ..." Speaking with the likes of my parents' generation, spending their childhood in the pre-economic reform, pre-Cultural Revolution mainland China, these are the kind of nostalgic thoughts that are often fondly remember and recall. The younger generations, too used to being surrounded by hardly comparable materialistic wealth , quietly react to such fanciful descriptions with scoff.

The idea of "feudalism," as marked by the inflexible, hierarchical, and often hereditary relationship between a wealthier and more powerful lord and his poor and submissive servants, as opposed by the foundation of modern republican nation-state, is often just as socio-cultural in nature just as it was political and economic. Yes, the overthrow of the established elite aristocratic class was a means to break their monopoly of political control and means of economic production, but what really distinguish the so-called "feudalistic" society of the middle ages and most of the modern and developed societies is just as much in the field of "common attitude" as by wealth. The definition of what constitute that "modern attitude," of course, varies from society to society. In some, the values of individual freedoms are maximized and completely decriminalized as long as the freedoms of one person does not interfere with those of others. In some, the

In a day and age where tens of thousands of well-educated college students go on demonstration to protest the disproportionate amount of global wealth held by the elite "1%," it is glad to see, perhaps a bit ironically, that the very icon of someone, at least in financial profile, leading the pack of the global "one-percenters" is, in fact, receiving a rather pleasant reception from the student population. In his quick, 3-second move from the lecture hall from which his delivered his web-broadcast address to his awaiting black van was anticipated by a massive crowd clicking away on their cameras, waving, and chanting in joy. If there is anything that can be said of Mr Bill Gates' few-hours-long visit to the LSE, it is about just how divisive a term like "1%" really is, even for people who belong solidly in the 1% (such as Mr Gates) or the people who are very likely to belong in the 1% in the near future (the excited LSE students flanking his van and u

While economically the world continues to live through the uncertain futures of the Great Recession, it seems that in the political front, there are increasingly optimism and hope that the next few years will offer the sort of global conciliation and peace needed to create the stable environment desired for economic growth. Over in the Middle East, the wars of Afghanistan and Iraq finally seems to be drawing to a close, despite the indefinite presence of myriad local ethnic conflicts . The tension with respect to Syria and Iran, while leading to local bloodshed and show of force, has yet to become seriously disruptive on a global scale. Over in Asia, the two traditional hot-spots, Taiwan and Korea, are also somewhat "cooling down" vis-a-vis the major powers involved. The presidential election of Taiwan reaffirmed the strength of forces favoring preservation of economics-focused status quo , much to the relief of Washington and Beijing. And the sudden transfer of (heredit