Into the World:
The Random Thoughts in My Mind

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.

Forests of citrus trees, towering mountains in the distance, and expressways as far as eyes can see... These were the first sights of Sicily, a much larger island just north of Malta. I, the first-time visitor, was surprised how the two islands could look so different despite having the same climate and coastal geography. Malta's rocky interior is filled with rocks and stone buildings, without the lush vegetation that the Sicilian hinterlands are filled with. Even with that first sight, it is no wonder that Sicily is an agricultural powerhouse that exports to Malta and beyond after filling the stomachs of its 5 million people.

I was casually strolling through the Diwali celebrations of central London. It was 2011, and I was a master's student with little incentive to do beyond the bare minimum to secure my graduation. Rather than burying myself in books, I took short journeys around the city (and beyond ), seeking to understand what makes the city one of the most diverse and attractive for people worldwide. There at the celebrations, I was casually handed a red notepad, the type where each page can be individually torn off. True to the spirit of the Indian diaspora, it was a promotion for financial services provider HDFC.

As a lifelong traveler who, due to the meeting-heavy nature of my current job , is unfortunately not able to frequently head to new places, I watch travel vlogs as one way to quench that travel thirst to some degree. With the competitive vlogging landscape that is YouTube today, plenty of people, from all sorts of cultural backgrounds, dishing up their views on the same sites, both famous and mundane. While all are united in their love of travel, how they portray the places they visit, through their visual recording and verbal explanations, illustrates how travel, as a hobby and a job, is seen so differently. 

There is a commonly served dish among Chinese restaurants in Malta that I have yet to see anywhere outside Europe. Called "crispy duck," it consists of deep-fried duck meat served with hoisin sauce, thin pancakes, and raw cucumber and onion strips. They are meant to be eaten like Peking duck, wrapping the meat with the vegetables in the pancakes, with some sauce sprinkled to give it a taste. Yet, the fact that deep frying and raw onions are involved in the process means that the result tastes quite different from Peking duck.

The concept of an English-language school already puzzled me. These schools, privately run and often have no accreditation from government authorities in charge of regulating educational institutions, propose that students show up in a different, English-language country to learn the language through classes and immersion. Yet, with the tuition and living expenses high and the concept of scholarships nonexistent, students can ill-afford a full-time study lasting beyond a few weeks, especially considering that they cannot make money working on the side while enrolled.

"Ah, Japanese? I love Naruto!" This is a common refrain for a person from Japan when they find a Japanophile in another country. The prevalence of online video platforms, combined with a good dollop of government support, has led to a global boom for the Japanese manga and anime industry. Japanese for power has surged as the popular series in Japan become popular everywhere. With the advent of AI and accurate transcription/translation software, the ability to take Japanese digital content and localize it has never been easier and cheaper.

In some way, time in Malta almost stands still. More than 300 days of sunshine a year means the place's weather never varies across seasons. The centuries-old stone buildings, protected by centuries of renovations on the inside and regulations that guide what towns should look like, mean that the visual look of human settlement here also is unchanged since civilization set foot. Then there are the old men and women who pull up their chairs and sit for hours in front of the lapping Mediterranean coast. One could finish their oil paintings without asking them to stay still.

The Middle East is grabbing the world's attention once more for all the wrong reasons. Months after a war that plunged Gaza into unprecedented destruction and threatened Israel's international standings , the conflict threatens to spill beyond a small part of the Levant. Israel has gone on the offensive to preempt others from reinforcing the embattled Hamas, wantonly bombing Beirut, Damascus, Tehran, and Yeman, seeking to erode the military capabilities of its enemies through assassinating military and political leaders while destroying military hardware and critical infrastructure that could be used to support war efforts.

Finding myself on the streets of Shanghai for the first time since 2017 , I was rather surprised by the vibrancy with which the street life returned to the megacity. With major international news outlets covering the popping of the real estate bubble, the high unemployment rates among the youth, and stagnant wages, it is easy to come to the conclusion that people are less willing to spend the decreasing salaries from increasingly precarious jobs. Yet, despite the anecdotal and statistical evidence that would discourage such development, the streets are seeing more and more shops competing for customers.

The concept of time in the Maltese summer can take some getting used to. The cloudless brightness can start as early as 5am, and darkness does not revisit until 9pm. During the day, the sun can be blazingly hot, making any outdoor activity that does not involve jumping into the cold water of the nearest pool or the sea too physically demanding. The result is towns that were empty during the day coming alive with people after 7pm, with the crowds not departing well after midnight, as the loud music and artificial lighting keep the folks jiving. 

There are many good ways to remember and share the memories of a trip. Plenty of people take pictures of sights and food, many others record videos of the sounds, the people, and their reactions, and a few, like yours truly, write down thoughts and reflections in prose. But these remembrances cannot fully do justice to how wonderful or awful a trip was. For all the audiovisual and mental recollections that can be registered and replayed, the tastes and smells of the place cannot. Plenty of storytellers try to do their best job to verbalize the olfactory and gustatory; none can beat the real thing.

The central bus stop at the little town of Marsalforn was inundated with a sense of impatience. The dozens of people gathering in the little square could not stop staring at the road leading to the bus stop, as if a more intense stare could get the bus to show up faster. On the mobile app of Malta Public Transport, the bus was shown as a mere 4 minutes away, but with one bus coming every 30 minutes or so, everyone was getting visibly jittery as to whether the small bus could fit everyone in the bumpy journey to the central bus terminal in Victoria, the capital of Gozo Island, only some 6km away.