"I truly believe travel in your 50s shifts in a meaningful way. It's often a decade of clarity-people are more intentional about how they spend their time, more focused on depth over volume, and increasingly interested in experiences that feel purposeful."
"The trade of frankincense is something that's well over 6,000 years old," says Anjanette DeCarlo, an adjunct professor at the University of Vermont. "Traded on the Silk Route into China and also, of course, brought into Europe, so widely used across the ancient world, right up till today."
The overall landscape design of the garden centers on the theme of auspicious clouds, with a circular landscape boulevard connecting the entire garden and a centripetal layout creating a diverse array of scenes.
"It doesn't matter what [story] you want to tell-maps help bring it to life, they help you connect to spaces. And it has to be interactive. You have to be able to read, to click."
Distance does not soften the terror. It only deepens my helplessness. In moments like this, I realize that geography is not measured in miles, but in attachment. War rearranges distance. These days I find myself returning to "The Conference of the Birds," the 12th-century poem by Attar of Nishapur, seeking meaning through ancient wisdom about spiritual journeys and transformation.
I have always believed that what unites two cultures most, however different they may be, is their own cuisine, and therefore, I don't know of anything that unites different societies as much as a plate of spaghetti, ramen, or gyozas.
Large red balloons pull the pale pink fabric upward at key corners, while the material naturally drapes back down toward the ground. The upper surface of the cloth becomes a platform for the wedding ceremony, performances, and informal gatherings, while the shaded area below offers a place for cooling and rest.
Rather than imposing itself on this remote terrain, the resort scatters a constellation of compact, sphere-fronted cabins across the landscape, each one placed with surgical intention over patches of degraded sand where vegetation has long struggled to take root. By positioning guest suites directly atop eroding sand depressions, the architects aim to arrest soil loss and give the steppe a chance to regenerate beneath and around the structures.
A compleat Persian Palace--there are many minor variations and lesser imitations--is distinguished by its exaggerated moldings, numberless layers of cornices, elaborate grillework and columns galore. A Persian Palace brazenly combines motifs and wantonly disregards proportion and scale.
People in Shang Dynasty China, around 3,000 years ago, probably didn't realize that the massive floods sweeping through their heartland were the product of typhoons battering the southern Chinese coast hundreds of kilometers away. They certainly couldn't have seen that the sheer intensity of those typhoons was fueled by a sudden shift in temperature cycles over the Pacific Ocean thousands of kilometers to the south and east.
It wasn't until Whitmarsh had been herded into the main hall that he grasped what he'd signed up for: 'a geopolitical event, not an intellectual one,' as he put it, with hosts including Greece and China's ministries of culture.
Seven were the strings of the lyre (unless there happened to be eight or nine), seven were the gates of Thebes, and seven were the "wandering stars" in the night sky (if you count the sun and moon). The identity of the wonders was less important than the length of their list, and indeed, additions and changes were proposed since the beginning.
A sprawling tale of two Singapores, the short documentary Sandcastles draws connections between Singapore, Michigan - a 19th-century ghost town swallowed by sand following widespread deforestation - and the island country of Singapore, where rapid development and land reclamation has, for decades, been enabled by the importation of sand. More poetic exploration than call to action, the work surveys waterways, cycles of development and the transient nature of sand - deceptively sturdy over short timescales but, over decades, quite volatile.
A decade ago, China's political leaders laid out an ambitious industrial plan: By 2025, they pledged, their country would be a world capital, with the goal of moving from "Chinese speed to Chinese quality, the transformation of Chinese products to Chinese brands." This is the difference, they wrote, between "Made in China" and "Created in China." At WIRED, we never take what the government (ours or anybody else's) says at face value.
From Boston headed home, I met up in the club car with members of a rock band, a secretary, a Peace Corps guy just back from India, and a retired dentist, and we partied night and day, telling stories and laughing our asses off. The Peace Corps guy had a sitar, and would play morning, noon and evening ragas as America rolled by outside.
China's official discourse centres on the idea of peaceful rise, the commitment to non-interference in internal affairs, respect for sovereignty and territorial integrity, and economic partnerships based on mutual benefit. Beijing insists that relations with Washington should not slide into conflict, calling for a system of global governance built on cooperation rather than confrontation. Yet the geopolitical landscape reveals a wide gap between this discourse and reality. Donald Trump's return to the White House has brought back rhetorical escalation and increased geopolitical pressure.
In case you didn't get the memo, everyone is feeling very Chinese these days. Across social media, people are proclaiming that "You met me at a very Chinese time of my life," while performing stereotypically Chinese-coded activities like eating dim sum or wearing the viral Adidas Chinese jacket. The trend blew up so much in recent weeks that celebrities like comedian Jimmy O Yang and influencer Hasan Piker even got in on it. It has now evolved into variations like " Chinamaxxing" (acting increasingly more Chinese) and " u will turn Chinese tomorrow " (a kind of affirmation or blessing).
The best train journeys in the world have an intangible allure about them. Since the dawn of time, the romance of railways has seduced poets, spellbound novelists, and dealt directors the perfect hand for capturing fleeting friendships, illicit affairs, and all manner of crimes and capers. A ticket is not just a permit to ride, it's permission to trespass on the intimacies of other people's lives.
