Into the World:
The Random Thoughts in My Mind

If there is anything consistent about the inconsistent Trump administration so far, it has been a belief in self-importance. Amidst the endless threats and flip-flops of tariffs on other countries, the vague words around peace deals in Ukraine and Gaza, and the winding road of the domestic war against left-wing wokery, the administration has never stopped believing in one underlying principle: that the other countries fundamentally need the US more than the US will ever need them, and that in the face of the administration's agreessions, its enemies cannot credibly muster effective counterattacks.

I was surprised to realize I had never read  The Great Gatsby  until last week. The 1925 novel is almost a required reading for high schoolers across the US and is consistently deemed one of the greatest American novels ever written. A recent article in the Economist extolling the relevance of the novel's overarching theme on the permanence of class differences and the meaninglessness of wealth finally piqued my curiosity enough for me to pick up the book and finish it in two days. Let's call it a belated gift to my high school self. 

A piece of news from a few days ago gave a group of cynical netizens a good laugh. An Air India flight bound for Delhi was forced to turn back less than five hours after it took off from Chicago. The cause was a widespread blockage of toilets on the flight, leading to 11 of the 12 lavatories onboard being out of service despite the flight being less than a third of the way to the destination. Anxious passengers, upon return to Chicago, were provided with accommodation and booking on alternative airlines on their way, as one can assume, home.

My wife and I have become habitual feeders of the stray cats in our neighborhood. Several plastic bowls sit on the few stone steps to the narrow street below the front door. Filled with dry food throughout the day and wet food in the colder evenings and overnight hours, the impromptu feeding station can sometimes attract up to a dozen cats. Many have become comfortable enough to run into the house for a quick petting when we open the door to refill the bowls. We are comfortable doing so because all the neighbors also put out food, as if competing for the cats' attention.

The Pakistani man from Germany was ceaselessly inquisitive about the state of business in Malta. "I'm looking to start a new business here, maybe a shawarma shop, maybe an Indian restaurant. What do you think about the possibility of success?" He asked before proudly explaining the scale of his import-export business in Germany and the good pay his nephews are getting in Malta as signs that he has a pretty good shot at making it as a business owner in Malta too. 

The Flamenco Museum in Seville provided an unequivocal description of the dance as an output of multicultural integration. The southern Spanish city, the description read, was able to give birth to this unique dance style because of an infusion of religious, musical, and cultural influences from Catholic, Muslim, gypsy, Amerindian, and African sources. Those influences congregated so thoroughly in this city only because of its status in the past as the capital of Moorish Spanish rule and the headquarters of the country's exploratory voyages to the New World.

I recently noticed that there is something that I have begun to do without fail every time I travel to mainland Europe from Malta. Whenever I order anything in a restaurant in the city I visit, I always (secretly, of course) complain about the small portions, barely enough to fill me until the next meal, much less have anything left to take home. Combined with the high prices that almost always define traveling in tourist hotspots, it becomes a foregone conclusion that the meal ends with an expected praise for the Maltese restaurant scene.