Into the World:
The Random Thoughts in My Mind

Recently, I came across a review of a restaurant that opened in New York City. The luxury eatery, described as serving borderless, innovative cuisine, was praised above all for its environmental consciousness. To drive the point home, the reviewer raved about a lineup of dishes that use offal from organic animals the restaurant slaughters ethically in-house, which the review termed a clear motivation to let no part of the animal go to waste in the true spirit of a circular economy. I couldn't help but grimace at the glowing words.

When I saw fresh cucumbers at my local SPAR at 4 euros per kilogram and watermelon at 2 euros per kilogram, I couldn’t help but recall residents' and travelers’ YouTube videos about the cost of living in China. Some lamented the lack of job opportunities, and others marveled at the ubiquity of technology. But what I noticed was more trivial: a vegetarian all-you-can-eat buffet for 2 US dollars per person, with cucumber-based dishes galore, and streetside stalls peddling watermelons off the back of a truck, at the equivalent of less than 20 euro cents per kilogram.

When people speak of the various reasons that the world is increasingly seeing a widespread dearth of marriages and babies, unsurprisingly, cultural factors feature prominently. But those cultural conversations often revolve around changes in social values. The rise of individualism has made youths question the value of sacrificing their own preferences and interests in exchange for negotiating with a lifelong partner. The prevalence of the nuclear family has made it burdensome to raise a child. The increase in female labor participation has led women to prioritize career advancement over family responsibilities. 

"The prices are ridiculous here. How are things on your side?" This is the common refrain coming from Mom's emails, as news headlines scream of further escalations around the Strait of Hormuz that have driven oil prices even higher. For months, I could shrug off her concerns. Looking at the inflation figures coming out of the US, the Europeans seemed to have been left unscathed by the war. It is a wonder how the prices have stayed relatively stable, and few complain about the cost of living locally, given how much more dependent on imported energy this Old Continent is.

Sometimes being a consultant feels like providing advice, but also chasing the raw materials needed to give it. As I approach the four-year mark of my current job helping high school students with their college applications, I have, unfortunately, become a bit more cynical about what "helping" entails. As much as the job seems to be rooted in collaboration between the knowledgeable advisors and youngsters motivated to absorb the knowledge and put it into action, the reality can sometimes be a bit different. Specifically, the amount of following up I do as part of the job is surprisingly high.

Alone. Low income. Unemployed. 40 Years Old. No friends. No partner. No kids. These are some of the keywords that decorate perhaps the oddest new export from China. Thumbnail after thumbnail on YouTube features seemingly ordinary people living in nondescript small cities and villages in the country, describing their everyday struggles and offering glimpses into their daily lives. Between trips to parks and supermarkets, touring apartments, working at their desks, and cooking simple meals at home, they talk about their lives in a crushing Chinese economy.

A mother-and-son team, a budget of less than USD 1,000, and five years of handmade graphic work on secondhand computers, and a production company that used to be a house decoration firm...by now, the story of Niu Lai has become well-known not just in China but around the world. The summer "blockbuster" and allegedly the most profitable film in the history of cinema has certainly come a long way from its initial reputation for terrible animation, monotone dialogues, and an almost entirely nonsensical plot that attracted wholesale ridicule.

As I approach another birthday on August 30, I face another big life decision that entails quite a bit of both sweat and money. Soon I will be applying to renew my Malta digital nomad residency, but it will be the last time I am legally allowed to renew for the one-year extension. That means, come December 2027, I will have no choice but to find a new home and say goodbye to the islands that have treated me so wonderfully for the past four years. And given my desire to continue with the remote-only working style that I have come to cherish, a new move opens up quite a few possibilities.

If you knew that the time you spent browsing the news, playing games, and indeed writing this blog post could instead be put toward doing some tasks that earn you a healthy hourly wage, would you get on those tasks? As my side gigs in AI annotation take off and pile up, it is a question that I cannot help but keep asking myself. Any time spent not doing work becomes a money-losing proposition, as foregone wages become quantified in the mind every minute that ticks by. The value of the day is subconsciously measured in the number of billable hours.

Searching through past posts in this blog, I am surprised that there is one important topic that has never been mentioned across its 1,240 posts: stock trading. Having worked for more than two decades now, my savings have mostly been converted to shares in dozens of companies across the world, some of which are earning healthy returns while others have been pretty much written off as the share values approach zero. As my jobs take me across multiple countries and companies, I have no hope of relying on savings set aside in pensions, so those stock positions are, in essence, my retirement funds.

"Let's keep the AC on, so that the bedroom stays cool when the power goes out again," my casual quip to my wife before we went for a walk sounded quite rational given all that we went through the past few days. After almost three days of constant power outage , household appliances whirred back to life, hopefully ending once and for all the days of sleep on the roof balcony, sweat soaking against cardboard boxes as we waited for the occasional night breeze. But with the giant generators parked around the street corner to power the neighborhood, the electricity could go out any minute.

What is it like to stare at the night sky against your will? It's a question I'd never thought I would be asking myself when the unplanned power cut hit my side of Malta in the late afternoon. Based on past experiences, Maltese power outages can definitely last a few hours, but with the hard work of the folks at the national utility, Enemalta, the situation does get resolved soon enough. But as the sun went down and the streets remained pitch dark, the 44-degree heatwave started taking its toll on the century-old stone box that is simply not designed to dissipate heat quickly.

There is something particularly dystopian about having AI companions erased. Weeks, months, and even years of conversation history molded faceless LLMs into a semblance of emotional connection, as the chatbot learns gradually about the user's idiosyncrasies and takes on personality traits that best gain the user's affinity. Frivolous as each conversation comes to be, the accumulation of tidbits through distinct narratives and episodes creates unique end results that no amount of systematic, brute-force efforts of replication can recreate.

The queue is still at 744 tasks. It has been there for the past three hours or so. I've browsed today's news, answered a few unrelated emails, gone to the gym, and even tried to take a nap as I waited, to no avail, for the ticker to go down to 743 or less. Why not just click the Start button and go through Task #744 myself? Because I tried, realized that it wasn't easy, and decided to take a break by unenrolling from it, in the hope that someone else is more passionately up to the challenge, get it out of the way, so that I can work on something else.

Get your hands dirty in the field; only then will you see the true value of work and how to put theories into practice. Such advice is often freely dispensed to newcomers in many different professions. At first sight, its vague wisdom is innocuous enough: who can argue against getting out there, putting what one learned from books and classes into action, and seeing the physical results to improve further? The trial and error may be all the more exciting when the hands-on work means getting out of stuffy offices, going into the streets, and helping customers who are most in need.

Sporting culture is one of those things one simply cannot create from scratch. A startup may disrupt an industry through a combination of innovative technology, clever marketing, and novel business models. But startups in the form of athletics draw more frowns and ridicule than admiration. Even after a couple of hundred years in existence, the American version of football is still criticized for being a misnomer. Plenty of new exercises, from Quidditch to paddleball, face uncertain futures, as their popularity is seen more as a fad among certain population segments rather than as universally accepted.

There is a cardinal rule I abide by when gymming in Malta: never go after 5pm. Not that big to begin with, the local gym is packed by then, with every machine occupied, and a bike-riding class blasting music and shouts of encouragement on one side. Seeing the gym mainly as a place to relax away from the hectic meeting schedule (and occasionally discreetly gawk at the beautiful women exercising there), I find myself unable to handle its sweaty steaminess on sunny afternoons, just as I struggled in packed rush-hour trains in Japanese summers. 

"You just sounded very different from when you usually talk to your students," my wife said after she overheard me finish a meeting. I was surprised. As someone who believes I bring the same communication style to all my interactions, professional or private, I have zero self-consciousness about the changes in my pitch, tone, or speed as I talk in different situations. As naive as it may sound, even as I recognize the inevitable nervousness, lack of confidence, and the shakiness that come with certain conversations, I still see that the differences projected by those emotions are unnoticeably minute.

Researching Chinese companies and business executives, I recently came across a term I had never heard before. Yin-yang contracts (阴阳合同) refer to the presence of two parallel agreements a company signs with an individual or a business partner. The yang is the public one, to be submitted to investors, law enforcement agencies, and other scrutiny; the yin is the confidential one that contains the actual terms of operational ties between the two parties. Implicitly, the contents of the two are quite different, allowing the two parties to do one thing in practice while presenting something different.

"We're Wasians! Of course we..." The formula is so familiar to regular purveyors of social media trends that it is almost a comic trope by now. People of a particular ethnicity would gather snippets of their daily routines, confidently proclaiming them, often aligned with stereotypes, which defined their cultural identity. But the last iteration eschews the casual banter of wearing indoor slippers and using chopsticks for something a bit more subtle. What if two cultures, one white and one Asian, clash in everyday life, and the conflict defines identity?

As warm summer weather returns to Malta, its seasides once again fill with people. The water is still way too cold for even a quick dip, but its crescent-shaped beaches and smooth rocks lapped by gentle waves are now increasingly home to a kaleidoscope of beach towels, bikinis, picnic bags, and their owners. Couples chat away, doing little besides staring at the waves, friends sit in circles, laughing over sandwiches and soft drinks, while loners take turns napping on their backs and reading paperbacks, hoping to simultaneously get a tan and some knowledge.

The celebrity cameos, the gorgeous Milanese backdrop, the innovative fashion...the reboot of the film The Devil Wears Prada after two decades did not skimp on the visual side. With the original now a classic and the original main cast all returning to their memorable roles, the movie could afford to splurge on a budget almost guaranteed to make a healthy return purely on the nostalgia of a generation. Yet, after more than two hours of glamour between the buzzing streets of New York City and the natural beauty of Italy, it seems that the film failed to answer the nagging question that everyone couldn't get past.

It is always a downer to come back from a street party to find your house flooded. But in Malta, that downer is all the more when the stone house is likely more than a century old, and the party may involve half the country's population gathering around to watch a one-and-a-half-hour fireworks display. In positive terms, it is called "tradition and modernity living side by side." In less pleasant words, it can be summed up as "why does the government spend money on free fireworks, when it may want to consider subsidizing housing repairs with that money instead?"

Electric vehicle purchases, solar panel installations, windmills going up...as the Third Persian Gulf War degenerates into a tit-for-tat blockade of the Strait of Hormuz, increased use of renewable energy seems to be a panacea. That is, until you dig a little deeper and realize that the oil and natural gas stuck behind the Strait are not just for energy use. Petroleum is the raw material for everything from the fertilizers to feed our crops to the helium that is indispensable to manufacturing semiconductors. Electricity can transport us, but cannot put food and information technology on our tables.

Western liberals rejoiced when Victor Orban, the prime minister of Hungary for the last decade and a half, was finally thrown out of office recently, despite persistently tilting the field to his favor through monopolizing mainstream media and gerrymandering electoral districts to dilute opposition votes. Peter Magyar, the incoming prime minister, immediately called for a complete overhaul of the state broadcaster and rescinding Hungary's opposition to the EU's further funding of Ukrainian war efforts. Brussels seemed to have lost an enemy and gained an ally.

For the frequent traveler, it is a once-per-decade ritual. Visit the nearest embassy or consulate in whatever country he happens to reside in at the time, and come out with a brand-new booklet ready for entry and exit stamps. It is almost a temporary reminder of patriotism: someone who intentionally left the homeland to roam the world, only to pledge allegiance in the form of a bureaucratic procedure indispensable for a nomadic lifestyle in the modern world, where every country seems more sensitive to national security risks. 

There is something deeply satisfying about finding typos and grammatical errors in articles from reputable newspapers like the New York Times or the Economist . The reader knows that these organizations employ dozens of dedicated editors to review, restructure, and polish pieces written by veteran journalists who themselves have years of experience checking on other people's work, not to mention degrees from prestigious academic programs specializing in exactly the types of writing they are paid to do. When readers can pick up what slips through these eyes and minds, they feel just a little bit like the pros' equals.

As the minutes tick away, the folks at the bus stop are getting jittery. Laughter and banter amongst family and friends gradually give way to silence, occasionally broken by a nervous tapping of a foot on concrete and a dismayed sigh. Otherwise, everyone looked in the same direction, the narrow paved road leading to the stop, the line of sight broken by a sudden curve against the tall trees across the street. Unable to see vehicles incoming more than a few seconds before the stop, no one dared look away and miss the arrival; their eyes intent on peering through the spring foliage for any glimpse of a bus livery.

In another war, by the third week, people will accept the routine of a new reality and will have moved on to something newer and more exciting. We cannot say the same about the so-called Third Persian Gulf War that is unfolding across a swath of the Middle East. The photos of residential compounds and civil infrastructure pummeled by bombs and missiles are getting as numbing to see as the growing statistics of casualties. But this war refuses to simply exist out of our minds: its consequences are too real and too close to be summarized as "someone else's problem."

"I am so looking forward to the next batch!" More than a hundred similarly phrased messages lit up the Slack channel as faces from around the world chimed in with anticipation. I was in a powwow of AI annotation "experts," a collection of more than 300 freelancers, remotely hired and based, to work through a project evaluating the quality of a Large Language Model (LLM)'s different responses to given prompts. Over a little more than two days, the group of people who have (and will likely never) met in person powered through what is likely thousands of tasks.

After Chinese-American figure skater Alysa Liu scored a memorable gold medal in the Milano Winter Olympics, more details are emerging in her underdog-to-winner life story. The world is slowly putting together the reasons behind the sudden retirement at age 16, after failing to medal in multiple world championships that she competed in, and her insistence that her return to the skating world would be entirely done in her own terms, skating when and how she feels, eating what she wants, and looking how she desires. 

I'm in the midst of a lull in my main job of supporting high school students with college admissions, with last year's bunch nervously awaiting their results, while this year's haven't started brainstorming the essay topics. During the downtime, I had been partially consumed by a mobile game, in which the player is an independent trader in a galaxy in which the central authority collapsed, and a cult-like rebellion seeks to assert control. The player navigates the many lawless frontiers, visiting planets that are home to civilizations menaced by economic difficulties, civil conflict, or simply isolation from trading partners.

"Napoli is a bit rough around the edges, but beneath the hassle and bustle is a vibrant city of good food and good people," so the many travel vloggers say about southern Italy's largest city. The disclaimer is highly warranted. After all, the city is known for having produced several well-known mafia groups that, in the decades past, managed to turn the city into a den of street crime. While northern Italy turned its historical and cultural sights into a tourist boom and endearing image of fashionability, Napoli was largely avoided despite its equally illustrious offerings.

The government signaled displeasure with the reporting by revoking the journalistic privilege of several correspondents ...goes the typical back-and-forth between authoritarian regimes and critical (often Western ) media outlets. Those revocations are based on a perhaps deliberately bureaucratic method in controlling access: the existence of the journalism visa in most jurisdictions. Foreigners working for major news brands are expected to self-identify as seeking to publish information. This is so that they do not bring their employers problems, while enabling local authorities to better track their whereabouts.

Outside the imposing, vertical stone walls that enclose the hilltop fortress jutting into the sea is another Valletta. There, the few tourists battle crumbling passageways hugging the rugged coastline, cold sweat breaking out as they come face to face with narrow paths where their feet are inches away from a steep drop into the raging ocean below. But they also come out into a small seaside community, where small fishing boats lie next to wooden houses and storage units, unchanged in decades. Families gather, surely away from their main inland houses, to barbecue, feed stray cats, and greet intrepid travelers passing by.

"Chongqing was cool, but after seeing all the social media posts about the city...something was just missing for me." The German guy I met at the hostel in Chengdu had this to say when I inquired about his impression of my next destination. Seeing the ambivalence on his face was a bit worrying. After all, like him and millions of others, I was drawn to visit the city because of viral online content. Youtubers gave the city monikers of the Cyberpunk City while vlogging about its dazzling nighttime views and mindblowing mountainside construction. 

For many people, a squat toilet represents backwardness. In the olden days, a hole in the floor opened up to a smelly cesspit, from which farmers shoveled excrement into their fields for free manure. Grimy public bathrooms in third-world countries are almost always portrayed by broken, dark squatters with flies buzzing above. In contrast, Japan, commonly portrayed as the pinnacle  of advanced toilet culture, is represented by heated seats and remote-controlled bidets on sitters, with squating toilets ( washiki or "Japanese-style" in the local parlance) relegated increasingly to the oldest houses and schools.

The 30-year-old man in the black-and-white photo smiled at me, his happiness at perhaps his first time in Beijing for work still visible more than 60 years after the fact. Yet, moments later, I found myself ripping the beautifully preserved photo in half; the arbitrary split in the brittle paper ran through that very smile, a stark reminder of a sudden but entirely unceremonious goodbye. By the hundredth rip, I had become mechanical, pieces of old photos, alongside scraps of diary entries with neat handwriting and certifications of all kinds, so unemotionally falling into the black garbage bag below. 

The three-story house lit up like the entrance of a high-end mall. Yellow string lights run the vertical length from the rooftop balcony to the garden below. A velvet red bow tie runs the horizontal length across the second floor, while a balloon snowman and a Christmas tree bookend the whole spectacle on the top and bottom. The fact that the house is surrounded by the characteristic beige stone houses of Malta, with not a decorative light in sight, only serves to accentuate its visually prominent place in the quiet residential neighborhood on an average night.

The Western world has a paradoxical relationship with authoritarianism. Non-democracies the world over are roundly criticized for their inability to uphold human rights, protect minorities, and ignore citizens' desires for more freedoms and better livelihoods. Yet, in the corporate world, too many fawn over titans who run their corporations as personal fiefdoms, managing through a combination of a cult of personality and one-man decision-making. How come Elon Musk and Steve Jobs are almost glorified for having dictatorial powers when actual dictators are simply bad people?