Into the World:
The Random Thoughts in My Mind

Milan is not a cheap city for tourists who want an "authentic" experience. The "Milanese" restaurants near the city's famed cathedral and canals exchange beautiful views, beautiful interiors, and beautiful food in exchange for small portions and prices that can easily hit 35-40 Euros for a moderately hungry person. In the well-trafficked old city, even a takeout sandwich can be as much as 9 Euros. With entrance fees, public transport, and hotels, a visitor can easily spend 200 Euros per day without tasting any proper luxury.

In the remote western corner of Gozo, the three-street village of Gharb (population: 1,549) is, like every town and village in the country, centered on a gigantic church. But right around the corner from the church is a primary health clinic, in the familiar light green and red livery that also coats its siblings dotted around the island. Next to the clinic is an elementary school and nursery complex, flanked by a soccer field and playground, the grass and equipment looking well-maintained despite their clear age. 

The streets of Kadikoy on the Asian side of Istanbul remind me of Europe. Its backstreets are flooded with the orange-ish streetlights common in Rome and Paris, with the stylish cobblestones and the tiny cars rambling by to match. Many residents dress no differently from their European counterparts, with stylish body-hugging jeans, shirts, and coats accentuating their figures. Many walk hand-in-hand with their spouses and significant others, and some engage in happy public displays of affection that find no equivalence in the Middle East or the Far East.

There is a big poster hanging above the big intersection right in front of Baghdad's Green Zone, the fortified government compound created by the American occupation forces. Underneath the pictures of Ismail Haniyeh and Qasem Solemani are the words "We will never forget the blood of our martyrs." Haniyeh is the leader of Hamas assassinated by Israel in Iran, and Solemani is the leader of Iran's elite military unit the Quds Force, assassinated by America in Syria. It is clear from the poster what the government's stance is on the matter of these assassinations.

The taxi driver I spoke to in Bahrain was right. The Omanis may be the most proactively helpful people I've met so far during my trip here in the Gulf region. But unlike what the taxi driver insinuated, the Omani "niceness" is not rooted in some sort of different culture or the national psyche compared to their fellow Muslim Arab brethren next door. Instead, it reflects how the Omani economy embraced diversification into tourism much earlier than any of the country's neighbors. The Omanis simply need to be nicer because they are used to making a living off tourism.

"Oh Riyadh is way less developed than Bahrain," the Chinese businessman sitting next to me on the Saudi-bound flight blurted out as soon as I asked him about his impressions of the Kingdom after living there for the past year. I was skeptical of his words. This is the country that global mass media have constantly reminded us of Prince Muhammad bin Salman (MBS) is leading to a head rush of modernization, investing massive sums in infrastructure and public relations of a future tourism superpower. 

"You know, all the countries in the Gulf...they are very different!" Almost as soon as the taxi driver heard that I had just flown into Bahrain from Kuwait he began listing out the subtle nuances that distinguish his Arab petrostate from the neighboring ones. "In Kuwait, they have so much money...but the roads are no good," he pointed out as we drove on the smooth highway into the city. I had to agree, even though I had been in the island country for less than an hour. The spiffy international airport and roads in Bahrain were a far cry from the not-so-well-maintained counterparts in Kuwait.

There is a big secret inside the otherwise nondescript house in an otherwise nondescript suburb of Kuwait City. In front of the Tareq Rajab Museum was an elderly man, staring at the white walls of the small lobby while he fidgeted in boredom. When I visited, there was no one else occupying the more than 30 seats in the room. Excitedly by perhaps the first visitor in the afternoon, the man quickly ran over, a cardboard ticket in one hand and the credit card reading machine in the other. As soon as he heard the authorization "beep" of the machine, he ran into the rest of the house, turning on the lights as he went. 

"And here is your card, valid until December 2025," the nice lady at the Malta residency office explained as she handed over my new residency card. And just like that, I am welcome to another year of living the slice of the Mediterranean paradise. Also exactly one year after delivering my first post from this little island, I am here to summarize the year before in an always vain attempt to predict the upcoming year's trajectory. As is always the case with the first of the year, checking off what has been completed helps to focus the mind on some truly new experiences that can still be had.