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An Excellent Birthday Present
Post Date : 2025-12-18
Espoo and Helsinki, Finland
Oct. 9 - 20, 2025
This trip to Finland had been months in the making—an expensive journey shaped by shrinking university budgets, frantic grant applications, and constant uncertainty about whether the funding would stretch far enough. My workshop presentation at the prestigious UbiComp/ISWC 2025 conference at Aalto University became possible largely because of Yulius, a former colleague from Singapore now lecturing for the University for the Creative Arts (UK) at Xiamen University in China. We began planning the workshop in late February, exchanging countless revisions and scheduling Zoom and Google Meet sessions across difficult time zones. He leaned heavily toward the technical and digital aspects while I approached it from visual communication and storytelling. My research background helped refine the topic into something focused and coherent, though the process often felt like two steps forward, one step back.
Our workshop title—“Designing Visual Identities for Relational AI Personas: Anchoring trust, memory, and recognition in constrained UIs”—reflected our merged perspectives. Still, I often felt frustrated. Many times, after agreeing on a version, he would revise it again without warning. Even more disappointing was learning, very close to my departure—and on my birthday, October 9—that he wouldn’t be attending after all due to airfare costs. I suspected he had known this for a long time, though he blamed the steep prices on the long national holiday in China. The timing felt inconsiderate, especially since I had already given up attending another conference in Istanbul, where my illustration proposal had been accepted. Limited funding forced me to choose, and I chose Finland. The day before leaving, we were still frantically editing our Canva slides, which I eventually had to move into Illustrator to clean up and to design the avatar we needed—his template only included wearable-device mockups in square, circular, and rectangular formats. At the same time, I was juggling calls and messages with a contractor repainting my retail space after a troublesome, tardy tenant moved out.
At Louisville International Airport, the American Airlines agent kindly printed all my boarding passes. Once I reached Charlotte, however, things began to unravel. I was so absorbed in working on my laptop that I missed my flight to London entirely. No announcement, or perhaps none I heard. Panicked, I rushed to Gate B8, where a kind Black lady whose name I forgot initially tried to find alternate routes but ultimately told me to call customer service. The person on the phone was unwilling to help, insisting I needed British Airways. But when the gate agent returned from a back room, she somehow managed to secure a replacement booking. She couldn’t print my boarding pass, though, and told me to run to Gate D5. Breathless, I arrived to find Hamza, who at first refused to issue the pass because boarding had begun—but thankfully, he was all bluster and printed it moments later. It was already 7:40 p.m. I was exhausted and relieved that I wouldn’t be stuck overnight. I was so grateful to the woman at Gate B8 that I handed her my IUS business card with my handwritten number, telling her to reach out if she was ever in Southern Indiana.
The next morning, arriving at Heathrow around 9 a.m., I again struggled to find my gate. Security procedures were different this time—we were told not to remove anything from our bags and to push our trays through a mechanical belt. Eventually, a British Airways staff member confirmed that my onward flight wouldn’t depart until 3:40 p.m. I found a seat near the currency counter to recharge my phone and battled déjà vu from the day before: long waits, low battery, anxiety about missing another flight. To add to my stress, I tried booking a flight to Stockholm for later in the trip, but both my cards were denied. Meanwhile, my foldable Motorola Razr began to fail—the internal screen became unreadable and wouldn’t scroll. I was livid. By the time my flight finally landed in Helsinki, it was past 7:30 p.m. UK time—already after 9 p.m. locally.
The young immigration officer in Helsinki was attractive but extremely cautious. He wanted to know why I was staying so long and asked for proof that I was actually presenting at the conference. Thankfully, I had the acceptance email screenshot, which saved me from further questioning. By then most shops were closed; even the tech stores were dark. Only a few fast-food places like Burger King remained open. Too tired to decipher the train system that night, I took a taxi—an expensive Tesla ride costing €48. I didn’t want to support Tesla, but fatigue overshadowed principles. It was pitch-dark when we reached the Airbnb neighborhood. I couldn’t connect to my phone plan, so I approached two teenage girls, Teresa and Olga, who let me borrow their hotspot to contact my host, Maija. Shortly after, Maija, the Airbnb host, appeared outside with her cane. We talked briefly about Trump and how absurd recent headlines had been, even including remarks from Finland’s president.
By the next morning (Oct. 11), I knew the Razr was beyond saving. I walked to the Ainoa shopping center and spent nearly €200 at Telia for a new smartphone and a Finnish SIM card. Only then could I finally download the HSL transit app. Meanwhile, I was still refining workshop slides—work that should have been finalized months ago if not for endless delays from my partner in absentia. Our presentation was scheduled for Sunday evening. (Oct. 12) and the turnout was disappointing: only three attendees, plus two Indian female student volunteers who stayed and participated, one Korean postdoc who slipped in near the end, and two Chinese male observers who watched silently. Still, the conversation felt meaningful in its own small way.
During the break between sessions, an Asian student named Chuah approached me, asking if I was from Singapore. Later, after the workshop ended, I found her sitting on a bench looking at my website—pausing on a photo of Yang2. We chatted before I gathered my things. One of the organizers kindly offered me a ride to a local food court so I could have dinner at Noodle Story in Espoo.
Helsinki, Finland.
Oct. 13 - 15, 2025
With the presentation behind me, I wanted a small reward. But first, I needed to secure an Airbnb in Stockholm. After another lunch at Markkinakatu 3, I walked around central Helsinki—the Helsinki Cathedral, Senaatintori, Market Square. I considered visiting the Design Museum but hesitated at the €21 entrance fee. Instead, I bought books to help me plan my digital illustration course for next semester. I bought seven Moomin refrigerator magnets (€11.90) as souvenirs. The best personal souvenir was a Finnish copy of Tintin: The Blue Lotus (Sininen Lootus) from Suomalainen bookstore for €23.95—a tradition I try to keep when traveling abroad. Back at the Airbnb, I messaged my colleagues explaining I couldn’t reach my students because the Razr had died. My luggage had also become unbearably heavy, so I bought a used rectangular suitcase with an extendable handle for €8. I transferred all my belongings into it and decided to donate my large red backpack, an Aldi sandal, and a backup battery from Tony. I took Bus 111 to Iso Omena and dropped everything off, telling myself it was practical—freeing space, removing dead weight.
On October 16, I left the Airbnb for my trip to Stockholm, feeling genuinely excited. The 8:30 a.m. flight landed at 8:30 a.m.—Stockholm being one hour behind Helsinki. There was no immigration, which disappointed me; I had hoped for another passport stamp. The Norwegian flight even arrived five minutes early. But in my rush to disembark, I forgot the small bag I had placed under the seat—the one with my passport and money. Panic surged through me. Thankfully, I remembered immediately and waited by the entrance. A stewardess retrieved it moments later. Another catastrophe avoided! I blame the stress of travel and old age!
A Worthy Side Trip
Post Date : 2025-12-18
Stockholm, Sweden
Oct. 16 - 19, 2025
I considered Stockholm an “extra trip,” made possible only because I was already in Finland. Still, the costs added up quickly: the flight booked on JustFly was $484.97, and the Airbnb was another $530.32. At least my Telia plan from Finland worked seamlessly here—unlike my U.S. Minternational plan, which turned out to be a complete waste. The €8 used suitcase I bought in Espoo became one of the best purchases of the trip. Stockholm required a lot of walking, and even travelers with four-wheel luggage were dragging them across the cobblestone streets in Gamla Stan. With my lightweight bag, I managed fine. Since I arrived earlier than the Airbnb check-in time, I wandered through Gamla Stan, stopping first to buy a postcard featuring the 1912 Olympics. Then I found a Swedish edition of Tintin: The Blue Lotus for 165 kr, plus two stamps for 88 kr (253 kr total). Hunger led me to Restaurang Tang on Klarabergsgatan 25, where I paid 165 kr for a Chinese buffet—expensive, but by nearly noon local time, I was starving.
Stockholm’s Metro was easy to use; unlike Finland, I could tap my credit card directly—each ride costing a hefty 4 kr. Around early afternoon, Ted, my Airbnb host, messaged that I could check in early. He wasn’t clear about which exit to take, so I emerged near a car-service shop with an aging Toyota FJ Cruiser out front. Ted, a 32-year-old who spoke flawless English, met me at Karlaplan Station and walked me to his apartment at Lützengatan 115 20. The loft-style Airbnb was beautiful, but I quickly regretted renting a shared space. Ted had two other tenants: a female Indian student and a male postdoc. After a shower, I headed back out, walking over twenty minutes—guided by Google Maps—to the ABBA Museum. It was overpriced for the remaining hour before closing, so I only took photos and videos. That night, while watching YouTube to unwind, Rahul, the postdoc, walked halfway up the stairs to the loft to ask me to lower the volume.
The next morning, the elevator stopped working, even though I followed the instructions to close the old-fashioned metal gate properly. I had to walk down several flights, then ride up to the third floor and walk down again to coax the elevator into responding. It was frustrating. I spent part of the morning browsing jobs online and even began applying for a position at Lingnan University in Hong Kong, but the documentation required was so extensive that I gave up after forty minutes—applying for academic jobs during a trip was hardly appealing. Later, I visited the original Fjällräven store near T-Centralen and was surprised to find that the iconic square backpacks were $20 more expensive here than in the U.S., contradicting what ChatGPT had once told me. I bought souvenirs instead: three fridge magnets (a Stockholm license plate, an old building façade) and a postcard, totaling 160 kr. I mentally assigned who would receive each gift—Donna, Leslie (for helping me find guest speakers this semester), Billy and Leslie (who always look after YangYang when I travel), James Harvey (who got me a birthday present), my mom (who customarily would get a postcard in Chinese), and one souvenir for myself.
October 18 — Exploring the City
A small market was setting up near the big fountain outside the building that morning. After grabbing a simple breakfast for about 50 kr, I took the Metro to Gamla Stan again. Wandering through its picturesque streets, I unexpectedly stumbled upon the Nobel Prize Museum, which amused me because Trump had recently said he deserved a Nobel Peace Prize. I then boarded Tram 7, which I later learned was the same route used to access the ABBA Museum. The tram continued on to Prins Eugens Waldemarsudde, a beautiful island filled with historic buildings and nature. Because I needed to return to Finland for my departing flight to the U.S., I booked a one-night Airbnb near the Vantaa Airport, grateful to find a host willing to accept a short stay.
October 19 — Departure from Stockholm
Ted offered to drive me to T-Centralen, and on the way asked if I could give him a 5-star review—a transparent request but harmless. He dropped me off near the Kulturhuset before continuing on his way. I bought a ticket for the Arlanda Express, which turned out to be the best decision: the ride took only 18 minutes and delivered me directly to Terminal 2. Before flying out, I asked Joy, my new Helsinki Airbnb host, whether it would be inconvenient for him to pick me up later that evening. He insisted it was fine, which was a relief because navigating to his place on my own would have been confusing.
Return to Finland — Immigration Chaos
The immigration process in Helsinki was unexpectedly complicated. I was stamped twice because I mistakenly went through the wrong lane, thinking it was the exit. The first officer was confused but stamped anyway after I showed my Expedia itinerary. The second officer was stricter and initially didn’t believe my explanation, but after checking my Airbnb booking and confirming I was flying out the next day, he let me through. My flight from Stockholm to Helsinki had also been delayed by about 40 minutes, causing a domino effect of tight connections and rising stress. The staff at the Stockholm gate were slow—one man chatted endlessly with his colleague while passengers waited, and only after putting on his tie did he finally process the boarding passes. My self-printed pass even listed me as SBY (standby), which made me even more anxious because the airline had already put out a volunteer request to give up seats.
October 20 — Flying Home
I called an Uber at 9:08 a.m., paying $9.23, thanks to being close to the airport. At the terminal, I resisted buying additional souvenirs. The convenience store wouldn't heat food—claiming they had no microwave—but I did find a pair of USB-C headphones, which were desperately needed after days of struggling to hear Xiaohongshu videos. At immigration, the officer questioned why I had two entry stamps dated the day before. I explained the mistaken detour and showed my itinerary. She eventually stamped me out. By 10:55 a.m., I was at Gate 42 to board Finnair to Dallas, then onward to Louisville. The journey through Dallas was extremely stressful: immigration, baggage claim, security screening again, catching the train to the next terminal, and rushing to Gate A28—where I was nearly too late. They were seconds away from closing the door, but they let me in as the final passenger. I was glad that I didn't have any luggage checked in, and without any TSA or Global Entry, I had to run my ass off to get to the gate, which included having to take a train to a different terminal. When I got to the gate, the later gate number was placed ahead of an earlier number. Luckily, I made it!
Back in Louisville, the Uber home cost $44.54—one last painful reminder of how expensive this entire trip had been. My Honor phone initially refused to switch to the Mint Mobile network, adding one final moment of panic before resolving itself. It would do for now, but I already had my sights on the Unihertz Titan 2, a Blackberry-style phone launching later in the year.
Doha: A Layover Turned Adventure
Post Date : 2025-12-18
Doha, Qatar
Jan. 14, 2025
The journey back to the U.S. was where the real drama unfolded. My flight from Mumbai to Doha was a logistical miracle, thanks to the manual efforts of the airline staff. But upon arriving in Doha at 5:00 AM, I discovered that my connecting flights had been canceled due to a ticketing error. My name was nowhere in the system, and I was left stranded in the sprawling Hamad International Airport. Kumar, a kind Qatar Airways employee, tried to calm me with water and reassurances, but the situation was dire. By 7:20 AM, it was clear I wouldn’t make my flight to Chicago. Mandar and Purba were already messaging me on WhatsApp, offering help and apologies. I assured Purba it wasn’t her fault—this was just one of those travel nightmares that happen to the best of us. By 8:40 AM, I made the decision to rebook my flight for the next day. With a 24-hour layover in Doha, I decided to make the most of it. I secured a visa on arrival for $20, though the customs officer scolded me for lifting my fingers too soon during the fingerprint scan.
Armed with a one-day metro pass, I set out to explore the city. My first stop was the Villagio Mall, a lavish shopping center adorned with Venetian-style architecture. I treated myself to a hearty meal at TGI Fridays, though the 105 Qatari Riyal price tag left me hesitant to leave a tip. Next, I wandered through the Souq Waqif, a traditional market brimming with spices, textiles, and handmade crafts. I was tempted to buy a model airplane with an antelope logo—a nod to Qatar Airways—but the steep price deterred me. The mild weather was a welcome respite, and I found myself lounging on a platform, almost dozing off before the fear of snoring in public jolted me awake. My final stop was the Mall of Qatar, a grand but less thematic shopping center. By then, my shoulders ached from carrying my backpack, and my feet begged for mercy. I grabbed a bowl of Japanese ramen at Sugoi for 37 Riyal and struck up a conversation with an African shop assistant who guessed my Malaysian origins. When he asked if I’d voted for Trump, I laughed and replied, "Only an idiot would."
By midnight, I was back at the airport, determined to avoid any further mishaps. The flight to Dallas was long but uneventful. I passed the time watching Solo: A Star Wars Story and Rogue One, though I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d seen the latter before. Touchdown in Dallas at 8:45 AM brought a new set of challenges: a five-hour layover, slow internet, and a phone plan that had lapsed due to an outdated credit card. After resolving the issue and grabbing a quick Chick-fil-A meal, I finally boarded my flight to Louisville. The relief of arriving home was short-lived. As the Uber pulled up to my house, I realized I’d left my pull-string backpack—containing two precious pills—somewhere along the way. The driver and I searched her Honda Passport twice, but it was gone. Exhausted but determined, I unpacked, fed my dog Yang2, and filmed the snowy backyard he’d turned into his personal gardening project. The shrubs were now a third of their original size, a testament to his boredom in my absence. By 9:30 PM, I finally settled down, reflecting on the whirlwind of the past week. From the highs of a successful workshop in Mumbai to the lows of a chaotic layover in Doha, it had been a journey of resilience, adaptability, and unexpected adventures. As I drifted off to sleep, I couldn’t help but smile. Despite the challenges, I had added a new country to my list, forged deeper connections with colleagues, and returned home with stories to tell. And isn’t that what travel—and life—is all about?
This journey was a reminder that even the best-laid plans can go awry, but it's how we navigate the chaos that defines the experience. The workshop in Mumbai was a testament to the power of collaboration and creativity, while the layover in Doha became an unplanned adventure that pushed me out of my comfort zone. Through it all, I learned to embrace the unexpected, find humor in the absurd, and appreciate the kindness of strangers. It was a trip I’ll never forget—a blend of professional fulfillment, cultural immersion, and personal growth.
A workshop to remember
Post Date : 2025-12-18
Mumbai, India
Jan. 7 - 14, 2025
The bustling streets of Mumbai greeted me with their chaotic symphony—honking cars, the hum of street vendors, and the occasional waft of spices lingering in the air. It was my first time back in India in years, and the rawness of life here was on full display, a stark contrast to the polished order of my life back in the United States. I had been invited by Professors Mandar Rane and Purba Joshi to conduct a workshop at the prestigious IDC School of Design, IIT Bombay, on January 10, 2025. The invitation was an honor, and I eagerly accepted, unaware of the whirlwind of challenges and adventures that awaited me.
The journey to Mumbai was anything but smooth. A snowstorm in the Midwest had thrown my travel plans into disarray. My ticket was hastily rescheduled to depart on January 5, but the return journey was a logistical nightmare. American Airlines had failed to secure my return flight for January 14, and as a result, I found myself bouncing between counters at the airport, pleading with Qatar Airways and Indigo Airlines to issue me a boarding pass. It was a frustrating ordeal, but by some miracle, I made it to Mumbai on January 7, with just two days to finalize my workshop materials.
The workshop itself was a triumph. Fourteen participants from six Indian art and design institutes gathered in a sunlit classroom at IIT Bombay. The theme was Sun Tzu’s ancient wisdom: “Know yourself and know your enemy.” We paired binary oppositional values with visual storytelling and design principles, encouraging participants to reflect on their strengths and challenges through self-assessment surveys. The culmination was a series of poster designs that fused ancient philosophy with modern design thinking. The energy in the room was electric—ideas flowed freely, and the collaborative spirit was palpable. By the end of the day, I felt like a rockstar, with participants lining up for selfies and group photos. It was a humbling reminder of why I love teaching: the power to inspire and be inspired.
After the workshop, I indulged in some much-needed retail therapy on Jan 11. Mandar and Purba took me to City Mall, where I picked up bedsheets, coasters, and souvenirs for friends back home. The next day, we ventured to Navi Mumbai, home to an Ikea store and a bustling food street. I couldn’t resist trying the iconic vada pav, a spicy potato fritter sandwiched in a bun. The vendor was amused by my tolerance for heat as I eagerly asked for extra green chilies. It was a small but memorable moment, a testament to the vibrant culture and warmth of the people. Meanwhile, the first week of Spring 2025 classes at IUS coincided with my international workshop, forcing me to miss the first class of instruction. On January 13, Mandar picked me up from the Beatle Hotel, and we drove to campus. After parking, we took a rickshaw to an insurance claim company to help his friend process payment for his son’s bone marrow transplant. By noon, we were back on campus, stopping at a café where Purba joined us. She took me to her office to work on a research paper inspired by the workshop. I was excited about the possibility of submitting a full paper to Norse2025, a design conference in Oslo, Norway.
I made steady progress until a video from Jin on WhatsApp disrupted my focus. It showed my mom without her maid, and I had a sinking feeling she might fall—which she did. Thankfully, she only hurt her back slightly. The incident shook me, especially after losing my dad the previous year. The thought of another loss was unbearable. Despite the distraction, I managed to continue working, grateful that mom was okay. Later, Mandar and Purba returned, treating me to a quick bite at a canteen before I resumed my work in Purba’s office, determined to make the most of the day.
Mandar, Purba, a driver in a Toyota van picked me up to head to Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport. Half an hour later, we arrived, sharing heartfelt group hugs as I told them how much I loved them both. From their hotel, the journey had seemed calm, but the familiar chaos of Mumbai traffic soon returned. At the airport alone, confusion struck—my Qatar Airways flight number didn’t appear on the screen. Directed to Indigo’s counter, they even placed a sticker on my passport, only to send me back to Qatar Airways. This was the start of my ordeal. By 2:15 AM, panic set in as I was shuffled between counters. Finally, at 3:10 AM, the issue was resolved, and I rushed to Gate 48A. Four hours later, at 5:00 AM Doha time, I landed safely in Qatar, only for my nightmare to begin anew. upon arriving in Doha at 5:00 AM, I discovered that my connecting flights had been canceled due to a ticketing error....
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