turns

New Delhi, India – On a searing hot afternoon in a dense working class neighbourhood of the Indian capital, Shehnaz Bano sits on the dilapidated floor of her one-room home, deftly stitching pieces for a new leather jacket.

To make each piece – a sleeve, a front or back panel or a shoulder yoke – the 38-year-old mother of two teenage sons spends hours, but is paid a mere 100 rupees (about $1) for each piece.

“Imagine if I was a regular employee and I did the same work for the same hours, but on a factory floor. I would have been paid more, right?” Bano asked.

“Just because I work from home, I don’t get equal pay or rights.”

That is because Bano, like nearly 260 million others across the world, is a home-based worker (HBW) – people employed to produce goods or services in or near their homes. The HBWs are part of what is referred to as the global informal economy. Such a form of employment is characterised by low wages, denial of workers’ rights, lack of social security or established hours of work, or paid leave.

The HBWs are also a highly-feminised workforce, with nearly 57 percent being women, according to a 2024 estimate by Women in Informal Employment: Globalising and Organising (WIEGO), a United Kingdom-based global research organisation focused on improving conditions for the working poor, especially women, in the informal economy.

On this day 30 years ago, however, an effort was made to change the condition of the HBWs – with little success so far.

The International Labour Organisation (ILO), a United Nations’ body, during a conference at its headquarters in Geneva, Switzerland, adopted the landmark “Convention 177”, or the Home Work Convention on June 20, 1996, recognising HBWs at the same level as traditional wage earners.

It was the first comprehensive call to set an international standard for the HBWs. The convention called upon ILO members to adopt and implement policies that promote equality of treatment between HBWs and other wage earners.

Convention 177 officially came into force on April 22, 2000.

However, only 13 countries have ratified it so far and none from South Asia. That is despite Asia and the Asia-Pacific regions accounting for the largest concentration of HBWs, as well as being the hub of global fashion and manufacturing supply chains.

Renana Jhabvala was in the room in Geneva – along with hundreds of government and non-government delegates – when the home-based worker Convention was adopted.

As a member of the Self Employed Women’s Association (SEWA), a prominent Indian trade union of women workers, the 73-year-old activist was at the ILO’s International Labour Conference (ILC), and still remembers the exhilaration and optimism in the room.

“Discussions had gone on for nearly 21 days, but none of us knew whether the Convention would get adopted or not. We were all in a really big hall at the ILC… There was a majority in the final vote and the Convention got passed,” she told Al Jazeera.

But labour rights activists, experts and labour economists say a lack of recognition of the HBWs despite three decades of adopting the ILO convention has deepened structural inequalities among the workers, especially in a developing country like India.

According to them, the HBWs, especially women, remain largely “invisible” to the policymakers, while they are forced to work for inadequate wages under unsafe and exploitative working conditions.

“Convention 177 has been instrumental in recognising home work as ‘real work’ and home workers as workers entitled to labour rights,” Deepa Bharathi, a senior specialist of gender and non-discrimination at ILO’s Bangkok-based Decent Work Team, emailed Al Jazeera.

“In South Asia, home-based work is often embedded in complex subcontracting arrangements, making employment relationships difficult to identify and regulate. Challenges in labour inspection, gaps in data and the invisibility of home workers in policy frameworks have also slowed progress,” Bharathi said in response to a question on the low ratification of the Convention, particularly in South Asia.

With most home-based workers in the region being women, their work is often seen as an extension of household responsibility, Bharathi said. “This undervaluation, combined with broader gender inequalities, has been a significant barrier to ratification and implementation,” she added.

When asked about the ILO’s priorities for strengthening the Convention’s implementation, Bharathi said: “For women home-based workers in particular, the focus must remain on visibility, fair pay, social protection, safe working conditions, access to training and childcare and a stronger collective voice.”

‘I cannot go out and work’

Bano lives in New Delhi’s Kapashera area, a settlement of mainly migrant workers on the city’s southwestern edge whose name literally translates to a “cotton settlement” in English. The area is known for its cotton and leather garment manufacturing units.

In its congested alleys lie buildings that rent out single room units to informal worker families. In one such room lives Bano with her sons and her husband who works as a lift operator in an upscale mall in Gurugram, a business district housing several Fortune 500 companies on the outskirts of New Delhi.

Bano epitomises the arc of a typical HBW in India. She began working as a beedi (a tiny, hand-rolled cigarette) roller in her village in neighbouring Uttar Pradesh state’s Azamgarh district. After marriage, she joined her husband in New Delhi and took to stitching leather jacket pieces from home.

The move from her rural employment as a beedi roller to a piece-rate worker in the city did not change her continuing precarious situation: long hours, irregular work, low wages and work that leaves her eyes strained and fingers aching.

She is paid barely one dollar for her work on each piece of a leather jacket that is sold in a foreign market for $200 or more – more than double Bano’s average monthly income. Moreover, to cut costs and maximise profit, the contractors often split such work among several workers.

“Only those who are in distress do this kind of work. We have rent, bills, grocery and school fees to pay. How much will my husband do alone?” Bano told Al Jazeera.

The HBWs fall into two categories: own account workers with direct access to markets and piece rate workers who are usually employed through intermediaries. Bano belongs to the latter, which is considered more vulnerable due to low and arbitrary piece rate payments.

In another corner of Kapashera, Sangeeta Devi, 30, puts the final touches – buttoning, repairing, finishing – before the garments she makes return to the factories.

She is doing all this inside an 8×8 foot (2.4m) room, where her family of six, including four schoolchildren sleep, eat, work and study. She cooks, cleans and even bathes in the same room.

“I cannot go out and work because then who will take care of my children?”

“On any given day, there are 100 pieces of clothing in this tiny room. Each time, I have to keep them aside while doing household chores,” the migrant worker from Bihar, one of India’s poorest states, told Al Jazeera.

Sangeeta Devi gets a dollar for every 100 garment pieces she completes.

“I really want to do a job where I can work easily from home, take care of my children and get paid well. I don’t know if that’s even possible,” she told Al Jazeera.

Her neighbour, Putul Devi, does similar work and earns about $20 a month.

“I have been cooking on firewood because of high fuel costs. And when it rains, I don’t know what to save from spoiling – the firewood or the cloth pieces that I bring home,” she told Al Jazeera.

Shalini Sinha, home-based work sector specialist at WIEGO, said female HBWs in India face “continued invisibility” even after three decades of recognition of their work.

“Home continues to be seen as a place of habitat and not as a place of work,” Sinha told Al Jazeera.

“There is also the broader issue of women’s economic work not being adequately recognised in labour discourse when it is done from home. It is often seen as an extension of her care work,” she added.

From an Indian perspective, said Sinha, there is an “urgent need for better statistics and a dedicated policy or law for home-based workers, which still does not exist”.

Elizabeth Khumallambam, who works for Community for Social Change and Development (CSCD), an NGO that works with women HBWs in Kapashera, said a social security code introduced in India in 2020 mentions HBWs, but “no one knows” how it will be implemented on the ground.

Introduced as part of India’s labour reform laws, the code consolidated nine social security-related laws into a single framework to ensure social security protection for all workers, including those in the unorganised sector.

“Frankly, for us the challenge begins at making workers understand the value of their own work. Many don’t consider this as work and so they do not think it needs due rights and protection,” Khumallambam told Al Jazeera.

Alakh N Sharma, a labour economist and director at New Delhi-based non-profit, the Institute for Human Development, said there is a “bias in the system”, due to which women’s work is being left behind in statistics and official counting.

According to him, technology-aided counting, probing questions and sensitivity among investigators, could help in addressing the statistical blind spot.

“Safety concerns, mobility constraints and social norms – all these factors stop women from joining formal workplace-based employment. But the single biggest reason is often care work responsibility, particularly childcare,” Sharma told Al Jazeera.

In 2022, Sandosh Kumar P, a Communist Party of India (CPI) parliamentarian moved a legislation aimed at the welfare of the BHWs, but the parliament did not take it up for discussion.

In December 2024, India’s ministry of labour and employment was again asked in parliament whether it has an official assessment of the HBWs, and if it was proposing to enact a law on them. It replied that the Code on Social Security 2020 provides social security to the unorganised workers, including the HBWs. It also said the government has created a national database of such workers.

Looking back at the 30 years since the historic recognition of HBWs, Jhabvala said she did not view such Conventions or laws from the lens of success or failure.

“It is like a weapon, a tool of change. If we want to fight, this option is available,” she said.

June 15 (Asia Today) — Salt-damaged farmland once unsuitable for either agriculture or aquaculture has become a source of pension income for residents of islands in southwestern South Korea.

Shinan County in South Jeolla Province operates what it calls a “Sunlight Pension,” sharing part of the profits from solar power projects with local residents. The program is regarded as a social economy model that connects large-scale renewable energy infrastructure with household income and local spending.

The county began distributing the pension on Anjwa and Jara islands in 2021 under a renewable energy profit-sharing program. It has since expanded the program to Jido, Saokdo, Imjado and Bigeumdo.

Under the program, part of the profits generated by solar power projects is distributed to residents through local cooperatives.

South Korea’s Ministry of the Interior and Safety regards the Shinan program as a social economy model that converts local resources into resident income while keeping spending within the community. The program brings residents, local government and private businesses together to ensure that some profits from power generation remain in the region.

The model is also consistent with the national government’s initiative to create “Sunlight Income Villages,” where communities receive income from renewable energy projects.

Shinan County enacted an ordinance in 2018 establishing a system to share profits from renewable energy development with residents. Residents do not directly pay the cost of building the power plants. Instead, resident cooperatives participate in the projects and receive dividends from the resulting revenue.

The dividends are paid through local gift certificates, encouraging recipients to spend the money within Shinan County.

“Existing residents are guaranteed dividend benefits, while benefits for new residents vary according to age to encourage younger people to move here,” a county official said. “New residents age 40 or younger are eligible immediately, without a waiting period.”

The program has produced measurable results.

Renewable energy development dividends generated cumulative revenue of 24.71 billion won, or about $16.1 million, between April 2021 and April 2025. Of that amount, 22.32 billion won, or about $14.6 million, was distributed through the Sunlight Pension.

An additional 2.39 billion won, or about $1.6 million, was distributed as a Sunlight Child Allowance for residents younger than 18.

Of Shinan County’s 16,483 residents, 13,284 are members of participating cooperatives, representing a participation rate of 81%.

The Anjwa Solar City power plant serves as the foundation of Shinan’s Sunlight Pension model.

The facility has a combined generating capacity of 288 megawatts, consisting of a 96-megawatt first phase and a 192-megawatt second phase. The first phase began commercial operations in November 2020, followed by the second phase in January 2023.

Plant officials said the project cost about 560 billion won, or approximately $366 million. It generates annual revenue of between 80 billion won and 85 billion won, or roughly $52.3 million to $55.6 million.

The history of the site is also significant.

The land was originally used for farming but became unsuitable for both agriculture and aquaculture because of salt damage and years of use as fish farms. A 2019 revision to South Korea’s Farmland Act allowed salt-damaged farmland to be used temporarily for other purposes, clearing the way for the solar project.

The land is scheduled to be restored to farmland after the solar facilities cease operations.

Anjwa Solar City is considered a leading example of South Korea’s resident-participation renewable energy profit-sharing system. Large solar projects can generate local opposition when residents receive few tangible benefits, making the profit-sharing structure a central element in securing community acceptance.

The Shinan model, however, may be difficult to reproduce in every region. Large renewable energy projects require several conditions, including government approval, resident consent and access to transmission infrastructure.

Project profitability and local acceptance must also be considered to maintain a stable dividend system.

“The Sunlight Pension was designed to ensure that development profits remain with residents and circulate within the community,” the county official said. “We plan to expand the profit-sharing program beyond solar power to offshore wind and other renewable energy projects.”

— Reported by Asia Today; translated by UPI

© Asia Today. Unauthorized reproduction or redistribution prohibited.

Original Korean report: https://www.asiatoday.co.kr/kn/view.php?key=20260615010005065

David Baerwald holds up his most precious possession so that it’s visible on our video conference: a very old violin in a very old, battered case.

Baerwald, an award-winning musician, film composer and songwriter who called Los Angeles home for nearly four decades, doesn’t play the violin. During his years with the Tuesday Music Club (immortalized in the Sheryl Crow album “Tuesday Night Music Club”), he played guitar. But the violin belonged to his grandfather Ernst Baerwald — and it plays an important role in his recently published debut novel, “The Fire Agent.”

Not every successful artist turns to a new medium at age 65 or moves to the opposite coast (Baerwald now lives in Kingston, N.Y.). Then again, not every artist has a family history quite like Baerwald’s, one that includes Germany and Japan, two world wars, a 1920s throuple and Beethoven’s Ninth.

The violin in Baerwald’s hands was the one his German-Jewish grandfather played as a Japanese prisoner of war in the Bandō camp at Tokushima during World War I. “It’s a very serviceable violin,” Baerwald notes. “A friend of mine played it for some years in the Long Beach Symphony. When my grandfather was older and wealthy, he bought a better violin, which was lost in a fire. But this is the one that matters.”

It matters because Ernst Baerwald was a founding member of a German POW orchestra that chose Beethoven’s great symphony as their premiere work — a performance so moving that it began a Japanese tradition marking the December holidays that persist to this day. Baerwald’s grandfather not only kept his violin throughout the war in which he fought; when he defected from the Third Reich in 1941, he placed it in an oiled bag and brought it with him via an oceanic escape.

Ernst Baerwald’s odyssey from a cushy childhood in Frankfurt to his final days in a beautiful Berkeley mansion, with a long sojourn in Tokyo along the way, reads like, well, a novel. Sent to an elite boys’ prep school in Germany, then on to a seriously disciplined Milanese dojo where he was trained by a Japanese sensei, Ernst was a prisoner in Japan for four years during World War I.

Those details might have been easy to find, but it wasn’t until David Baerwald went to clear out his parents’ house in Brentwood that he discovered papers showing that his grandfather had not only been the head of the Tokyo office of I.G. Farben, but that he had given a major speech to the nascent Office of Strategic Services (precursor to the Central Intelligence Agency) in 1943 that laid out the plan for the firebombing of Japan.

He also urged them not to allow partnerships between large corporations and the military, the way the German scientific community and government did with I.G. Farben and Krupp Armaments and Steel. “Any business that makes peace with Fascism will become Fascist,” he said. “And once Fascism captures economic control, then a Fascist coup will inevitably follow to seize political power. Germany, Italy, Rumania, Japan, Spain the story is the same. We cannot allow it to become the story of America.”

When Baerwald read that, “I was really alarmed, in the moment,” he says, realizing how closely tied his grandfather had been to the bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. “But it gave me a plan.” He wanted to show how deeply his grandfather had become integrated into Japanese culture.

“One of my characters tells Ernst that he has ‘yuyo,’ which might best be described as grace,” says Baerwald. “Its Japanese meaning is closer to the state of a river rock that has been washed over and tumbled thousands of times, so that it’s both distinct, and a meaningful part of its environment.” To some extent, the author understands “yuyo” personally, having lived in Japan and been educated at its International School until age 12, when his family moved back to California, “although I wouldn’t claim it for myself,” he says.

That move, in the early 1970s, may have led to his career in music. “When we got back to the States, I was extremely troubled. Call me a fish out of water, I guess. I went through a period of voluntary mutism — I think they call it selective communication. I didn’t talk to anyone, especially not to my family. My hearing would sort of come and go at will, too.” His mother understood he seemed to like his sister’s acoustic guitar, so she suggested he take some lessons. “At the time, it wasn’t at all a career path, it was a way of reassembling my brain so that I could cope with the reality I was experiencing, finding a way to communicate again.”

Part of what he was experiencing, which he knows a great deal more about now, was feeling “the secrets that were the engine propelling my family.” After Ernst’s long career of service and deception, David Baerwald’s father, Kurt, entered the U.S. Army during WWII and later became a professor of Japanese studies at both in Japan and at UCLA. The effects on their family of five still reverberate. Baerwald’s mother eventually became a clinical psychologist who specializes in trauma. “I had to separate myself completely from my family in order to survive,” he says.

However, what stalled the writing of this first novel were the two decades he initially left out, which included Ernst, Lina and their lover Chizuko being a ménage à trois in a 1923 Tokyo dealing with the aftermath of an earthquake and wildfires.

Although “The Fire Agent” is based on Ernst’s history, not all of the facts are congruent. The wrestling coach at the American school in Tokyo, Ernst’s glamorous courtesan Chizuko, and many of the characters are composites. Speaking of that courtesan, Baerwald says it’s true that his grandfather and grandmother cohabited with a Japanese woman for many years, even after Lina and Ernst had a child together. “I found so many letters between my grandfather and my grandmother and I think they truly loved each other, and I think they truly loved that woman, too.”

That didn’t make it easy for Baerwald to write about that love. “My German grandmother, on whom Lina is partly based, was terrifying,” he says. “It was easier to write about her sex life with my grandfather and their Japanese lover by creating composite characters.”

He didn’t want to leave out their sex life, though, or that of others.

“Every generation of young people thinks they invented sex, right? But nothing is new — and it never gets old. Here’s an example. One of my godfathers, Sam Jameson, was the L.A. Times bureau chief in Tokyo for decades. He was also the doyenne, if you will, of the cross-dressing community in that city. It was this rich world he was a part of that nobody knew anything about. I based the character I call Bünheimer on him.”

Some of the worlds Baerwald has uncovered through his family’s papers are rich and sensual; others, like the POW camp where Ernst was held and the speech he gave to the OSS analysts at the Presidio in the 1940s, are stark and terrible. While he renders all appropriately, he’s aware that his perspective remains that of a white Western man. How did he gain the courage to write about people of other races, cultures and genders? He says it comes from something he did when he was on a swim team in high school. “The psychological trick I would play on myself at each meet was to imagine the water I’d dive into was freezing cold,” he says. “And of course it wasn’t. Which was such a relief and kept me going.”

Like his grandfather’s beloved violin, Baerwald has taken a deep dive into previously unknown waters — and survived. As he works on his second novel, he’s better prepared for airing family secrets and the publishing world. Ever the musician, he likens his first round with it to a Shepard tone, the auditory illusion that can make listeners feel like two notes one octave apart are constantly ascending or descending in pitch (Baerwald has worked with famed composer Hans Zimmer, who used the tone in, for example, “The Dark Knight”).

“A Shepard tone can make you feel like you’re flying. Or sinking,” he says. “At this point in my life and art, I prefer to have my feet firmly on the ground.”

Beneath azure skies and fluffy white clouds, three giggling toddlers and their mothers arrive at a candy-colored water park in the town of CoComelon.

It’s the opening of “Fast Little Fishy Splash Water Park Adventure,” a three-minute episode of “CoComelon,” the popular children’s cartoon series that is perhaps as controversial as it is appealing to young children.

Moonbug Entertainment, the studio behind “CoComelon,” says the episode, which debuted on YouTube in May, is the result of a years-long collaboration with a UCLA think tank.

In an unconventional move for a privately held entertainment company, the studio released its child development guidelines on its website Tuesday. Moonbug’s head of communications Bao Nguyen said the company began to incorporate findings from the research into its creative process in late 2025.

“It’s a great example of what we’ve been trying to do,” said Rich Hickey, Moonbug’s chief creative officer, referring to the episode. “Inclusive storytelling and learning through play — they’re all evident within that episode.”

Nina and Cody, ecstatic about visiting their neighborhood splash pad, run through fountains and hop in kiddie pools, but protagonist JJ is a bit more skeptical.

With support from his friends and his mother, who offers him goggles and a pair of orange arm floaties, JJ decides to face his fears. He joins his friends under a tipping bucket, and — spoiler alert — realizes that he actually enjoys playing in water. (“I just love to swim, swim, swim,” he sings.)

The guidelines, called the “Moonbug Learning Principles Framework,” are informed by academic research and advise that Moonbug shows should help young viewers navigate “real life moments” and “model positive relationships among children and their friends and caregivers.”

Other priorities include creating shows that encourage kids to learn through play, as this helps them develop their imagination and creativity, and featuring characters from diverse backgrounds (“CoComelon’s” Nina is Mexican American, Cece is Korean American and Cody is Black) — and giving said characters depth — across all Moonbug shows.

“We’re a digital-first company and we realized that there may be some … hesitation to sharing online content with children,” Hickey said. “This is really to keep building on the trust we think we’ve built.”

“CoComelon” is Moonbug’s flagship preschool show, and the series’ origins date back to 2006 when commercial director Jay Jeon shared a YouTube video of an alphabet cartoon set to music. The videos began to revolve around toddler JJ in 2017.

By 2020, “CoComelon” was the most-watched YouTube channel in the world, averaging 3.5 billion monthly views. That year, the show made its streaming debut on Netflix — where it broke ratings records — and was bought by London-based entertainment company Moonbug.

Moonbug was then acquired by Candle Media, a firm led by ex-Disney execs Kevin Mayer and Tom Staggs, for a reported $3 billion. Disney+ has since obtained the exclusive streaming rights to “CoCoMelon.”

“CoComelon‘s” image woes aren’t new. The series has developed a reputation for keeping children glued to the screen, as seen in videos that have gone viral on social media of babies bolting to the television upon hearing the marimba theme song.

In 2020, a Guardian columnist wrote that “CoComelon” was “like crack” for a preschool child. A New York Times report in 2022 gave the public more insight into Moonbug’s audience development process, which included testing “CoComelon” videos on young children to make its shows as attention-grabbing as possible.

The program has been a hot topic on parenting forums. The exchange typically goes something like this: Someone asks if “CoComelon” is “bad” and a gaggle of parents weigh in. “Very overstimulating,” said a user in one Reddit thread. “It moves too fast for kids’ brains to process, which can cause a speech delay,” wrote another.

Asked to respond to the criticism, Hickey said he believes Moonbug makes “age-appropriate content” and produces a range of videos to cater to different moments throughout a child’s day, from slow bedtime videos to faster-paced ones meant to encourage movement, Hickey said.

In 2023, Moonbug recruited the Center for Scholars and Storytellers, a think tank at UCLA that bridges entertainment media and psychology research, to “create the best possible product” for its audience, Hickey said.

The center was tasked with analyzing Moonbug’s content and crafting the learning principles to guide the studio’s future preschool programming, which also includes the “Blippi” and “Little Angel” franchises.

A scene from Moonbug Entertainment’s “Blippi’s Job Show.”

(Jessica Perez / Moonbug)

Moonbug also asked the center to determine if there was research showing that audiovisual content could be addicting for preschoolers, said Yalda T. Uhls, an assistant adjunct professor of psychology at UCLA and executive director of the Center for Scholars and Storytellers. Uhls said the center’s review of existing peer-reviewed research found that there was no such evidence.

And despite oft-repeated claims that long-form content is better for kids than short-form content, “there isn’t really actually any evidence for that,” Uhls said. “It’s very inconclusive.”

The center found that preschool children struggle to learn as much from content with frequent cuts, though consuming it doesn’t impact their attention span negatively, Uhls said.

As such, the principles the center crafted recommend Moonbug “minimize distractions and tangential songs or storylines” when characters are navigating real-life situations to make sure it does not interfere with preschool children’s ability to learn lessons.

The center interviewed members of Moonbug’s creative teams and formed an advisory council of academic experts in child development to evaluate a selection of Moonbug’s episodes, assess the quality of socio-emotional learning and find areas for improvement, Uhls said.

“The content certainly had a lot of places where it could improve, but it wasn’t horrible,” Uhls said. “There was some learning within the episodes. … It wasn’t all good, it wasn’t all bad.”

Uhls said she recalled several instances of episodes modeling unsafe behavior, but declined to share specifics.

The center plans to continue to work with Moonbug to integrate child development research much earlier in the studio’s creative process and aid with the integration of the learning principles into its content slate, Uhls said.

June 12 (Asia Today) — South Korea’s Trade Ministry is accelerating a project to convert master workers’ tacit manufacturing knowledge into artificial intelligence data as the country seeks to preserve industrial skills threatened by aging and labor shortages.

Tacit knowledge refers to experience and know-how that skilled workers often use without writing it down. In manufacturing, it can include judgment used in process optimization, quality control, welding, equipment checks and other work that depends on years of experience.

The Ministry of Trade, Industry and Energy held the fourth M.AX conference Friday at the Korea Chamber of Commerce and Industry in central Seoul. The conference focused on development and cooperation strategies for using master workers’ tacit knowledge in manufacturing AI transformation.

Officials and experts discussed how to build AI systems that can capture knowledge from industrial sites and how labor and management can cooperate in the process.

The ministry said skilled manufacturing experience is becoming a core asset in the AI era. Officials warned that if the know-how of retiring workers is lost, companies could face weaker process control, lower quality management and reduced manufacturing competitiveness.

The government is using 48 billion won, or about $31.2 million, from this year’s supplementary budget to support pilot projects for 30 manufacturing processes. The projects will build tacit knowledge datasets and develop AI models.

The ministry plans to prioritize processes with high safety risks or severe labor shortages. AI models developed through the project are also expected to be used to train new workers.

The conference included examples of AI already being applied in manufacturing. Sungwon, a stainless steel pipe maker, said it is using AI in welding work where skilled workers previously relied on visual judgment to support operators’ decision-making.

Participants said the project’s success will require data standardization, verification systems, proper compensation for workers who share their knowledge and sufficient communication with employees before implementation.

Some participants also proposed creating an advisory group of national quality masters so the project can better reflect expertise from actual manufacturing sites.

Kim Sung-yeol, head of the ministry’s industrial growth office, said the project is designed to protect South Korea’s manufacturing base.

“This project is about protecting manufacturing and manufacturing sites, which are among our core assets,” Kim said. “Because it is a project to preserve and transfer the tacit knowledge of master workers, we will do our best to help solve difficulties at manufacturing sites.”

— Reported by Asia Today; translated by UPI

© Asia Today. Unauthorized reproduction or redistribution prohibited.

Original Korean report: https://www.asiatoday.co.kr/kn/view.php?key=20260612010004392

A site of big changes, the Music Center has become farewell central. Alongside the Gustavo Dudamel hullabaloo at Walt Disney Concert Hall, James Conlon has begun his final appearances in the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion as music director for two decades of Los Angeles Opera, with his own signature form of enchantment in Mozart’s “Magic Flute.”

The silent-movie panache of Barrie Kosky’s production, which opened Saturday night at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion and runs through June 21, is on its way to becoming a perennial. This is the third revival since L.A. Opera first staged it in 2013 — all four times with Conlon in the pit. The production operates like an operatic graphic novel and live animated film charmingly all in one. The scene is a giant movie screen broken up in sections and upon which is projected witty, fantastical background animation, while the characters are the live singers, dressed as though silent film stars.

The orchestra plays Mozart’s score as though it were, as orchestras did in the old days, accompanying a silent movie but to radically different effect. Fulgurous cinematic spectacle may immerse your attention, but the opera’s essence is transferred from the stage to the pit. The singers, meanwhile, function to an unusual degree as choreographed characters in a cartoon, leaving little opportunity for body language, allowing, instead, individual expression almost exclusively to their voices.

In Mozart’s opera, Tamino, a prince in a fairyland of mystic temples and mystifying gods, relies on his supernatural flute that turn sorrow into joy to get him out of jams. The genius of Kosky’s singularly musical production is that it magically makes the orchestra itself a compendious magic flute. It more than ever becomes an agent of delight.

That is where Conlon comes in. He has, while leading L.A. Opera for 20 seasons (half the company’s existence), served as an advocate for the core operatic repertory — notably Mozart, Verdi and Wagner — much of it little heard in our late-blooming former operatic desert. He has also been an international champion of his “recovered voices” project, salvaging the neglected operas of composers in the first half of the 20th century who were silenced by Nazi Germany.

“The Magic Flute,” one of the world’s two or three most popular operas, needs no such patronage. Written at the end of Mozart’s life as a popular entertainment, its a singspiel, or sung play. As a proto-Broadway musical operatic genre of spoken word and musical numbers, it appeals on all levels. The fairy-tale libretto is child-friendly. Mozart’s score is tune heaven.

The troublesome Queen of the Night dazzles with high notes that shoot out like daggers. The main lovers, Tamino and Pamina, are lyrical wonders. The comical bird-catcher, Papageno, is everyone’s darling. The domineering Sarastro, an all-powerful priest, bellows spiritual profundities. But if you start digging under the surface, deeper than the symbolic Freemasonry and all, you may never find bottom.

The opera begins with three ceremonial chords in the orchestra that signal a brief, sober introduction quickly undercut by an exhilarating fast-forwarding overture. Those three chords can be made to mean many things. Often, they come across as commands by an orchestra to sit up straight and pay attention. They may be dignified or downright quirky and playfully no big deal, just a here-we-go.

Conlon handles them as a sweet, perfectly tuned, almost amorous invitation to pleasure, implying this will be a genial, gracious, laid-back “Flute.” Among his accomplishments in L.A. has been to make the opera’s orchestra capable of producing just such velvety, flowing Mozart, as well as terse, tight theater.

Here, Conlon offers a lesson in the kind of leadership generally lacking in modern society, by simultaneously staying out of the way yet being at the essential center of things. Depth here is not announced, but the care of phrasing implies that there is more to everything Mozart is saying than first meets the ear, that, under it all, the “Magic Flute” is not fantasy but a spiritual lesson in morality.

Many in the cast, this revival, are young singers, not yet well known and new to the company. Sydney Mancasola and Miles Mykkanen, as Pamina and Tamino, are likable, lyric lovers. Kyle Miller catches Papageno’s vulnerable charm. Aigul Khismatullina, Queen of the Night, impresses with the silvery pricks of her high notes, while Kwangchul Youn’s Sarastro, unsteady in middle register, takes on weight at the bottom of his bass. Zhengyi Bai’s lustful Monostatos, disguised in the production as a hammy vampire, almost steals the show a time or two. The Three Ladies and Three Spirits provide vocal allure.

One of the evening’s most theatrical moments, though, came after the music stopped when what sounded like a gun interrupted curtain calls. But as if rescued by a magic flute, an instant of fear turned to joy, glittery gold graffiti filling the Chandler and celebrating Conlon.

Jared Grindlinger is not ready to say goodbye to his friends at Huntington Beach High. The likely first-round draft pick didn’t have to play for the Oilers in the Southern California Division I regional playoffs, let alone pitch. But he did both to help Huntington Beach knock off San Diego Open Division champion Patrick Henry 10-3 on Tuesday.

Grindlinger went four for four, including a home run, and finished with three RBIs. He also struck out five in three innings on the mound. Dane Cunningham had a three-run home run. Huntington Beach advances to play the winner of Wednesday’s game between Corona and Chula Vista Eastlake on Thursday.

Cathedral Catholic 4, St. John Bosco 2: The impressive two-year run of St. John Bosco’s baseball team has come to an end. The Braves had the bases loaded with one out in the bottom of the seventh but couldn’t push across any runs and were eliminated in a first-round Division I game. They won the Southern Section Division 1 title the last two seasons and the regional title last season.

La Mirada 7, Liberty 6: A three-run seventh inning helped the Matadores enjoy their bus ride home from Bakersfield. The big hit was a three-run home run by Justin Torres. La Mirada will face Cathedral Catholic on Thursday in the semifinals.

Arroyo Grande 4, Loyola 3: An RBI single in the eighth inning by Colton Gotchal pushed Arroyo Grande to victory over top-seeded Loyola in Division 2. Jack Murray had a home run and two RBIs for Loyola.

Newport Harbor 2, Madison 0: Gavin Guy threw the shutout with seven strikeouts.

South El Monte 3, Brentwood 2: South El Monte went on the road and pulled off the upset of Division 6 champion Brentwood. Anthony Mata had an RBI single and Gabriel Canchola limited the Eagles to four hits while striking out nine in six innings.

Westview 7, Carson 1: Leadoff hitter Eli Irvine had three hits for the winners.

North Torrance 2, Bell 0: Seth Narasaki and Joey Banuelos combined for the shutout.

Verdugo Hills 11, Rolling Hills Prep 2: Cutlor Fannon finished with three hits and three RBIs for the Dons.

WASHINGTON — The U.S. Supreme Court on Friday turned down an appeal from Virginia Democrats whose new voter-approved state election map was canceled by the state’s Supreme Court.

The justices made no comment, and the legal outcome came as no surprise.

The U.S. Supreme Court has no authority to review or reverse rulings by state judges interpreting their state’s constitution — unless the decision turned on federal law or the U.S. Constitution.

But the Virginia ruling came as a political shock, particularly after 3 million voters had cast ballots and narrowly approved a new election map that would favor Democrats in 10 of its 11 congressional districts.

That would have represented an increase of four seats for Democrats in the House of Representatives.

Even worse for Democrats, the court setback in Virginia came a week after the Supreme Court’s ruling in a Louisiana case had bolstered Republicans.

In a 6-3 decision, the justices reinterpreted the Voting Rights Act and freed Republican-controlled states in the South to dismantle districts that were drawn to favor Black Democrats.

In the two weeks since then, the GOP has flipped seven districts in Tennessee, Alabama, Louisiana and Florida.

The Virginia Supreme Court decision pointed to a procedural flaw which turned on the definition of an “election.”

To amend the state Constitution, Virginia lawmakers must adopt the proposal twice — once before a “general election” and a second time after the election. It is then submitted to the voters.

Last fall, Democrats proposed to amend the state Constitution to permit a mid-decade redistricting.

However, by a 4-3 vote, the state justices said the General Assembly flubbed the first approval because it took place on Oct. 31 of last year, just five days before the election.

By then, they said, about 40% of the voters had cast early ballots.

In defense of the Legislature, the state’s attorneys said the proposed amendment was approved before election day, which complies with the state Constitution.

But the majority explained “the noun ‘election’ must be distinguished from the noun phrase ‘election day’.”

It reasoned that because early voters had already cast ballots before the constitutional amendment was first adopted, the proposal was not approved before the election.

The dissenters said the election took place on “election day” and the proposal had been adopted prior to that time.

The state’s lawyers adopted that view in their appeal and argued that under federal law, the election takes place on election day.
But the Supreme Court turned away the appeal with no comment.

The result is that a state amendment that won approval twice before both houses of the Legislature and in a statewide vote was judged to have failed.

The state says it will use the current map, which had elected Democrats to the House in six districts and Republicans in five.

It’s early in the morning, and Birmingham baseball coach Matt Mowry is at the supermarket looking through the flowers section before classes begin. He’s engaged in an unseen, often undervalued duty as a coach — providing comfort to players and their families.

One of his players, 16-year-old sophomore outfielder JJ Rodriguez, lost his father, Anthony, 53, on a Saturday morning last month when he died in his sleep at home. Mowry is looking for a bouquet of flowers to present to JJ’s mother, Nancy, before his first game back.

There are no easy answers how to help a family dealing with grief. Mowry went through his own tragedy in 2022 when his wife, Amy, died of cancer. He prays for her before each game, looking up to the sky while grasping his wife’s necklace, then kissing a ring that has her fingerprint tattooed on it.

The message Mowry told JJ: “Times are going to be tough There’s moments you’re going to break down. It’s OK. You don’t have to hide it.”

The reason No. 1-seeded Birmingham doesn’t open the City Section Open Division baseball playoffs until Thursday is because Anthony’s funeral is Wednesday, and players and coaches will be there to provide support.

Anthony Rodriguez, the father of Birmingham baseball player JJ Rodriguez, died last month.

(Eric Sondheimer / Los Angeles)

JJ missed a couple days of school and one game after his father’s death. He wanted to be alone and was skeptical about coming back any time soon.

“He would message me and tell me coming here and being around my teammates would make me more comfortable and get my mind off things,” JJ said of Mowry. “I wanted to be alone a little bit because my mind was not in the right place. But the day I came back, I learned these guys are my family.”

JJ has become an important part of his team, starting in left field while batting No. 9 in the order. The Patriots won their first West Valley League title in 20 years and are trying to win their sixth City title under Mowry.

JJ and his mother have appreciated the emotional support, allowing them to try to heal from their sorrow.

His mother told him, “Be strong for everyone else. Your dad will always be proud of you.”

There’s a candle in the room where his father was found.

“I sometimes go there and be alone at night and talk to myself,” he said.

Before games, JJ says a prayer and thinks of his father.

“Every game,” he said. “It’s for you, Dad.”

On May 23, the City final will take place at Dodger Stadium.

Imagine the thrill for players of the two teams who reach the final. They’ll get to walk the infield, put some grass in their pockets, look up into the stands, hang out in the dugout of the two-time defending world champions.

For JJ, his father won’t be able to watch him. Or maybe he will. Every day is a step forward to healing. It’s hard, but he’s got a coach watching over him.

“I talked to him about what my son went through in the same situation,” Mowry said. “I had him get back out with the guys and be there whether he practiced or played.”

JJ is back and thankful to his baseball family.

Friends, motorists, fellow Americans: The road ahead is far from straight. But it will take us through eight states and dozens of small towns, past Muffler Men and Patel motels, beneath the bright lights of Tulsa and Tucumcari, up close to Edward Hopper’s “Nighthawks” and Angel Delgadillo’s barber chair.

In other words, it’s Route 66, an American artifact that turns 100 in November and seems to contain more curiosities and paradoxes than the Midwest has cornstalks.

To see all that up close and catch America’s Main Street making ready for its centennial summer, I drove the entire stretch — from Chicago to Albuquerque in one trip, then Albuquerque to Santa Monica in another, a combined 17 days on the road.

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Even before that first day of driving brought me to Springfield, Ill., I’d realized that more days would have been better. As traveler Leonidas Georgiou of Greece told me, “This is a lifetime journey.”

You quickly see that this 2,448-mile route is actually a medley of rural highways, small-town main streets, frontage roads and inescapable bits of Interstate 40. You roll from Midwest farmland to Southwest desert to the Pacific, rising and falling between sea level and 7,000 feet. The roadside signs and buildings, restored and ruined, cry out for more than a drive-by snap. And people are happy to see you, because Route 66 is what keeps some of these towns alive.

Beginning with your first miles — and a cup of coffee at Lou Mitchell’s diner in Chicago — you meet all sorts of travelers. A mother and daughter from New York. The California couple who just retired from the Air Force. The European cop who persuaded his mom to come along, then had her sleep in the car to save money. The “roadies,” many of them retired, who return every year. Some come for the scenery, some for the signage, some for the conversations.

Depending on whom you ask, this might be the most famous highway in the world. It is the inspiration for a short, happy song that’s lasted 80 years (Bobby Troup’s “[Get Your Kicks on] Route 66”) and a long, sad book that’s lasted 87 (John Steinbeck’s “The Grapes of Wrath”). Then again, if you were born in this century, you probably know the road’s story best from the 2006 Disney-Pixar movie “Cars.”

As the miles go by, you realize that Route 66 hasn’t been strictly American for a long time. Many Route 66 merchants and hoteliers say that most of their customers are travelers from abroad. Beyond that, many Route 66 entrepreneurs are from families that came to the U.S. in the last 50 years. I met a restaurateur from Lebanon, one motel owner from the Netherlands and four more motel owners, all named Patel, whose families arrived from India after 1965.

Route 66 west of Seligman, Ariz.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

“You never know what language or accent you’re going to hear,” says Rhys Martin, Tulsa, Okla.-based manager for the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s Preserve Route 66 initiative. “You’ve got new business owners. You’ve got unique cuisine. You’ve got this cultural diversity. You’ve got the African American experience. It’s more complicated than just a trip back in time.”

And this year is especially complicated.

Hundreds of small businesses along the route have been investing in centennial upgrades and celebrations, including a 19-day national caravan that begins June 6 in Santa Monica. But 2025 was slow on 66, in part because many Canadian visitors stayed away after President Trump proposed taking over their country.

1.) Views of the Chicago skyline from Navy Pier. 2.) Millennium Park, Chicago. (Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

Now, on the brink of summer, soaring gasoline prices could keep many Americans home, and President Trump’s America-first rhetoric and nonresident fees might drive more international travelers elsewhere.

“We all worry about that,” says Terri Ryburn, owner of Ryburn Place Gifts & Gab in a 1930s gas station in Normal, Ill.

“We need new roadies,” says Anna Marie Gonzalez, co-owner of the Aztec Motel & Creative Space in Seligman, Ariz. “And the roadies need to be American this year.”

Now my rented Ford Escape SUV is rolling and my windshield is full of rural Illinois. Water towers, grain elevators, flags on barns. Black and white cows.

The skyline view from Chicago’s Navy Pier is half a day behind me, as are the crowds around the big silver bean in Millennium Park and the great American artworks in the Art Institute of Chicago (where “Nighthawks” hangs).

Experts say that about 85% of the old highway is still drivable. But some states post more signs than others. And everywhere, people steal signs.

Ah, but not these signs. One for a barn sale off Stripmine Road. A warning that Funks Grove has sold out of pure maple syrup. Somebody selling deer pee to hunters.

When I cross the state line, I face a billboard pitching “Uranus Fudge Factory, Missouri’s No. 2 Attraction.”

After I pass the exit comes the sequel message: “Uranus is behind you.”

The Wagon Wheel Motel stands along Route 66 in Cuba, Mo.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

The Route 66 timeline starts in November 1926. That’s when state and federal transportation officials embraced the idea of connecting scores of cities and small towns with one long, paved road.

As I pull over for a barbecue dinner in tiny Cuba, Mo., the 90-year-old Wagon Wheel Motel pops up like a slideshow illustration of that time. The stone-walled motel looks unchanged in decades, but sleepy.

“Never closed,” says a sign in the window with a phone number. “If office locked we are close by.”

The Rockwood Motor Court in Springfield, Mo., is a window into the same era. Built in 1929, my $77 room is compact and the plumbing is delicate, but all the vintage vibes are present. Phyllis Ferguson, desk clerk, owner and “old building hugger,” is full of tips on roadside businesses and where to stay, because “I know these little tourist courts are getting fewer and farther between.”

Boots Court motel opened in 1939 to capitalize on Route 66 traffic in Carthage, Mo.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

In Carthage, Mo., at Boots Court, desk clerk Jason Shelfer shows me a splendidly restored 1939 room where Clark Gable slept and tells me he never appreciated the reach of Route 66 until now.

“When people from Brazil come to Carthage, Missouri,” Shelfer says, “something magical is happening.”

And there’s another side to this magic: 66 can also be invisible up close. Not just because of missing signs, but because it has aliases everywhere. It’s Jackson Boulevard in parts of Chicago, Garrison Avenue in Carthage and Main Street in Galena, Ks., where 18-year-old cashier Kassidy Kell welcomes me into Gearhead Curios.

“Before my job,” she confesses, “I had no idea what the thing was with Route 66.”

It was John Steinbeck who called 66 the Mother Road. But if the Mother Road has a father, it’s probably Cyrus Avery, a Tulsa businessman and big wheel on the Oklahoma Highway Commission in the 1920s. Avery, who now has his own plaza in Tulsa, campaigned for a Chicago-Los Angeles route through his hometown. Little did he know what was coming.

The Cyrus Avery Centennial Plaza features a bronze sculpture called “East Meets West,” just off the now-closed Cyrus Avery Route 66 Memorial Bridge in Tulsa, Okla.

(Mike Simons / For The Times)

Within a decade, drought and Depression had forced legions of Dust Bowl migrants from Oklahoma and beyond on desperate journeys west, using Route 66.

A decade beyond that, the end of World War II in 1945 filled the road again, this time with happy travelers.

That postwar era is what many people now think of as a simpler time, and perhaps a better one. But segregation and “sundown towns” were still in place along much of the route. For travelers of color, a carefree road trip would have been impossible. And for many Native Americans, the roadside proliferation of cowboy/Indian caricatures would have been nothing to smile at.

But these were years that reshaped the look of Route 66. Hundreds of motels, shops and gas stations rose along the road, often designed in bold geometry and bright colors.

Mary Beth Babcock at her shop Buck Atom’s Cosmic Curios in Tulsa, Okla. In the background is her giant, Stella Atom.

(Mike Simons / For The Times)

Flash forward now to Tulsa’s Meadow Gold District, a.k.a. “land of the giants.” In 2018, retailing veteran Mary Beth Babcock took over an old gas station, dubbed it Buck Atom’s Cosmic Curios on 66, and soon opened more shops nearby.

Then, to get attention and make drivers smile, she put up a few “muffler men” — roadside fiberglass giants. She started with Buck and Stella Atom, a space cowboy and cowgirl who loom over 11th Street, looking to the past and future.

“Americana!” says Babcock. “Road trip! Who wouldn’t want to do that?”

Near the east edge of the Texas panhandle stands the most elegant gas station you’ll ever see: the 1936 U-Drop Inn and Tower Station in Shamrock, which drips with Art Deco style. (No, you can’t get gas there. But you can eat at the cafe inside or charge your Tesla in back.)

In Groom, stopping for gas, I spy the largest cross I have ever seen — 190 feet high and 110 feet wide. Nearby, I glimpse a crooked water tower — built to attract tourists and billed as the Leaning Tower of Texas.

Sorry, Groom. I’m not stopping.

The fastidiously restored U-Drop Inn, a Streamline Moderne filling station and cafe in Shamrock, Texas, is one of the architectural standouts of Route 66. It doesn’t sell gas, though.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

I reach Amarillo just in time, grab paint cans and hustle out to the field where a line of 10 old Cadillacs stand half-buried. As the sun sets, they throw 50-foot shadows while the scent of spray paint fills the air.

This is Cadillac Ranch, an art installation from the 1970s where visitors are free to add their own paint, whatever they like. Mine says “Read Something.”

Next comes Tucumcari, N.M., one of the few places to sleep between Albuquerque and Amarillo. Because of that, it used to get thousands of road-trippers. They’d slowly roll down the main drag, choosing favorites from a riot of snappy names and caricatures lit in gleaming neon.

“They tell me it was like driving into a little Las Vegas,” says Gar Engman, owner of Tee Pee Curios.

But I-40 changed everything.

In 1956, President Eisenhower called for a better interstate highway system. By the mid-1960s, wider, faster interstates started opening, flanked by chain hotels and restaurants. After I-40 bypassed Tucumcari in 1981, and train service dropped off as well, Tucumcari crashed. Just about every town along 66 has a version of this story, especially in New Mexico and Arizona.

Visitors to the Cadillac Ranch art installation in Amarillo, Texas, are allowed to spray-paint the 10 Cadillacs half-buried in the ground there.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

So is Tucumcari a ghost town? Not exactly. Many buildings stand empty and the Apache Motel’s vintage sign rests flat in a parking lot like a fallen soldier. But several motels are clearly doing fine, as is Tee Pee Curios. At night you still see a great set of signs. Most dramatic is the Blue Swallow Motel with its bird in flight, cursive letters and promise of “100% refrigerated air” — maybe the most photographed sign on 66. But you can’t ignore Motel Safari, the Roadrunner Lodge and La Cita restaurant, which wears a red sombrero and serves a fine Frito pie.

In Newkirk, N.M., four turkeys cross the road, leaving me groping for a punch line.

In Santa Rosa, N.M., I tiptoe into the Blue Hole, an artesian well that’s always 62 degrees, then tiptoe out again.

Turkeys on Route 66, Newkirk, N.M.

(Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times)

In Albuquerque, I roll past many blighted blocks on Central Avenue, then jog 65 miles northwest to sample the art and wealth of Santa Fe.

In the farmers market there, I give public poet William Curius $20 to pound out a Route 66 poem on his Royal typewriter. In 20 minutes, he comes up with a solid effort, but it’s nothing compared to his answer when I ask his age.

“I don’t identify with age. This is how you die. Counting each year.”

In Petrified Forest National Park — the only national park directly on the route — I hike among red rocks and howling wind.

By the time I reach Williams, Ariz., several people have told me that the European travelers know more about Route 66 than the Americans do. So when I see four guys from Greece on the sidewalk, I try that idea on them. Alex Andros, age 30, nods immediately.

“If you come to Greece,” he says,”you probably know more Greek mythology than us. So that makes sense.”

Now we arrive at Seligman, Ariz. It’s tiny, with a population south of 800. But in the lore of Route 66, Seligman is big. Because of Angel Delgadillo.

By 1985, though the roadway was still mostly intact, Route 66 was officially obsolete, decommissioned as a federal highway. Starved for visitors, Seligman was dying. But Delgadillo, a barber with deep roots in the town, had an idea. He and his wife, Vilma, rallied business people from nearby towns to seek historic status for their stretch of Route 66. After they prevailed, they started a statewide organization and set a national movement in motion.

Angel & Vilma Delgadillo’s Original Route 66 Gift Shop on Route 66 through Seligman, Ariz. (Mark Lipczynski / For The Times)

Scenes from Route 66 in Williams, Ariz. (Mark Lipczynski / For The Times)

The Delgadillos’ business, now a gift shop, endures on Seligman’s main drag, as do Vilma and Angel, who celebrated his 99th birthday in April. Two daughters help run the shop, which includes an old barber chair where you can sit for a selfie.

The westernmost stretch of 66 in Arizona is a driver’s dream and a magnet for motorcycles. Those 158 miles make up the longest-surviving continuous stretch of Old 66, beginning just east of Seligman, veering away from the railroad tracks, cutting through Kingman, twisting and turning through Oatman and the Black Mountains, eventually rejoining I-40 at the state line.

Then it’s time to cross the Colorado River. Roar through Needles. Pause at the Roy’s sign in Amboy for dusk. Crash for the night in Barstow.

At San Bernardino’s Wigwam Motel, I wind up chatting with a mother-daughter duo of Canadian travelers.

“I was against coming down,” admits Sharon Prinz, 75, of British Columbia.

1.) The stretch of old Route 66 between Kingman and Topock in western Arizona is known as “Arizona Sidewinder” for its 191 turns, often without guardrails. The old mining town of Oatman, known for its roaming donkeys, is on the way. (Christopher Reynolds / Los Angeles Times) 2.) The Magic Lamp Inn in Rancho Cucamonga. (David Fouts / For The Times) 3.) Foothill Drive-In sign on the campus of Azusa Pacific University. (David Fouts / For The Times)

“It’s a timing thing,” says Wendy Prinz, 51, who talked her mom into coming. “If you put off something for a year, you might never get the chance.”

The end is near, and I’m feeling like a marathoner at Mile 25. Creeping along Foothill, Colorado, Sunset and Santa Monica boulevards, I scan the scene for old signs. Rancho Cucamonga’s Magic Lamp Inn! Azusa’s Foothill Drive-In! (But there is no drive-in, just the sign.)

And then, at dusk, it appears: the Santa Monica Pier and the sign declaring I’ve reached the “end of the trail.”

All those miles. Yet already, I’m making a mental list of stops to add and detours to try next time.

A sign marking the end of Route 66 on the Santa Monica Pier.

(David Fouts / For The Times)

“It’s so easy to use up all your time and end up running behind,” says Ian Bowen, manager of the pier’s 66 to Cali kiosk. “It took me six years to do the whole road.” And then, he adds, “you become part of the community.”

And you see how, in so many ways, the road is one long small town. When Brenda at the Midpoint Cafe in Texas sends a guest westward with a coconut cream pie for Robert and Dawn at the Blue Swallow Motel, Robert and Dawn thank her on Facebook (“It’s like a hug in a box”) and scores of roadies applaud. When Angel Delgadillo turns 99, West Side Lilo’s Cafe is ready with carrot cake. After Beth Hilburn adds a giant outside her Hi-Way Cafe, Mary Beth Babcock heads over from Tulsa to Vinita to say hi.

And when a rookie roadie finishes his first 66 trip, he has to wonder: Who will be out there this summer? Will it be enough to keep this fragile recovery going?

If this is the story of America’s Main Street, what’s the next chapter?

The problem is not where to find photos on Route 66. The problem is putting down the camera, especially during this centennial year, when the road is dressed up with more lights, banners, murals and fresh paint than it has seen for decades.

Stories, photos and travel recommendations from America’s Mother Road

Travelers may be tempted to just keep snapping. But for better results on every level, say hello and ask questions first. Here are a few more photo tips along with an east-to-west gallery of what our photographers and I found on the road:

• You can’t be everywhere at dusk, when the neon signs blaze, so be strategic (and maybe plan for an early dinner or a late one).
• Use a solid tripod (for long exposures), stay off the road, and be sure to try a variety of exposure times. (Neon is tricky.)
• If you see a roadside image that needs your attention, pull over, park legally and step away from the vehicle. The result will be better and all will be safer.
• Besides the freedom of road-tripping, the spirit of Route 66 is about independent businesses bucking the odds on the road less traveled. If we all take pictures without spending, those businesses won’t last long.

Views from Navy Pier in Chicago.

Millennium Park in Chicago.

Route 66 begins in downtown Chicago at Adams Street and Michigan Avenue. Early alignments put it on Jackson Boulevard. Signs mark the spot across the street from the Art Institute of Chicago.

Art Institute of Chicago.

Cigars and Stripes BBQ in Berwyn, Ill., features a Muffler Man smoking a cigar and holding a jumbo bottle of barbecue sauce.

The Gemini Giant stands along Route 66 in Wilmington, Ill.

Atlanta, Ill., is home to the American Giants Museum — which celebrates the Muffler Men and Uniroyal Gals that were common roadside advertising features in the middle 20th century.

Springfield, Ill., is home to the Abraham Lincoln Presidential Museum and Library. Exhibits takes Lincoln from his Illinois childhood through to the Civil War and his assassination in 1865.

A barn along Route 66 near Carlinville, Ill.

The Wagon Wheel Motel on Route 66 in Cuba, Mo.

The Route 66 Car Museum’s collection includes about 70 vehicles, especially American and European sports cars. Pictured is a 1967 Pontiac Bonneville.

Gary’s Gay Parita, once a service station, won fame over the decades for its hosts’ hospitality. It’s still a popular stop, 25 miles west of Springfield, Mo.

Rockwood Motor Court in Springfield, Mo., dates to 1929. It has been restored and continues to operate.

The Meadow Gold District in Tulsa, Okla.

This fiberglass Rosie the Riveter figure went up on 11th Street in Tulsa in 2025.

Buck Atom’s Cosmic Curios occupies a former service station on 11th Street — a.k.a. Route 66 — in Tulsa.

Soda pop bottles line the walls of Pops 66 in Arcadia, Okla.

A car travels down a stretch of the Meadow Gold District in Tulsa, Okla.

The Cyrus Avery Centennial Plaza features a bronze sculpture called “East Meets West,” just off the now-closed Cyrus Avery Route 66 Memorial Bridge.

The Round Barn in Arcadia, Okla., stands along Route 66.

National Route 66 Museum and Elk City Museum Complex, Elk City, Okla.

The fastidiously restored U-Drop Inn, a Streamline Moderne filling station and cafe in Shamrock, Texas, is one of the architectural standouts of Route 66. It doesn’t sell gas, though.

Visitors to the Cadillac Ranch art installation in Amarillo, Texas, are allowed to spray-paint the 10 Cadillacs half-buried in the ground there.

The Midpoint Cafe in Vegas, Texas, celebrates the halfway point along Route 66 between Chicago and Los Angeles.

A license plate spotted in Albuquerque.

La Cita, a sombrero-topped restaurant, is one of the most popular eateries in Tucumcari, N.M. It was founded in 1940 and moved to its current location in 1961.

Motel Safari in Tucumcari, N.M., is one among a handful in town that have renovated and upgraded to attract contemporary travelers along Route 66.

Michela Franceschilli and her mom, Carla, came from Rome for their second trip exploring Route 66. They are standing by the Blue Swallow Motel, in Tucumcari, N.M.

From Old Highway 66 near Laguna, N.M., Casa Blanca Road leads to Enchanted Mesa and Acoma Village.

The exterior of Duran Central Pharmacy in Albuquerque.

The combination plate, Christmas-style, at Duran Central Pharmacy.

El Vado Motel is a rescue-and-recovery story on Central Avenue in Albuquerque.

Signs and murals line the roadside as Old Highway 66 passes through Grants, N.M.

The West Theatre in Grants, N.M.

The Painted Desert Trading Post stand west of Chambers, Ariz. The restored building and a stretch of old Route 66 are on private property behind a gate. Travelers call or text a number on the gate to ask for access.

Signage along old Route 66 in Holbrook, Ariz.

The Painted Desert portion of Petrified Forest National Park includes broad vistas and richly varied mineral colors.

Scenes from Route 66 in Williams, Ariz.

Angel & Vilma Delgadillo’s Original Route 66 Gift Shop on Route 66 through Seligman, Ariz.

Aztec Motel and Creative Space in Seligman, Ariz.

Route 66 merch in Seligman, Ariz.

Tin Can Alley is a compound of five rental Airstream trailers in Kingman, Ariz.

The stretch of old Route 66 between Kingman and Topock in western Arizona is known as “Arizona Sidewinder” for its 191 turns, often without guardrails. The old mining town of Oatman, known for its feral donkeys, is on the way.

Oatman, Ariz., is known for its roaming burros, Old West-style storefronts and busy weekends. It stands on a curvy stretch of Route 66 that attracts many motorcyclists and off-road enthusiasts.

El Rancho Motel Sign on the outskirts of Barstow, Calif.

Wigwam Motel off Route 66.

The iconic Roy’s sign stands over old Route 66 at Amboy, Calif., in San Bernardino County. These days Roy’s operates as a gas station, gift shop and snack bar, not a cafe or motel.

The fiberglass statue known as Chicken Boy stands on the roof of artist, designer and gallerist Amy Inouye’s studio on Figueroa Street in Highland Park.

The interior of the Magic Lamp Inn.

The Magic Lamp Inn in Rancho Cucamonga.

Mitla’s Cafe in San Bernardino.

Foothill Drive-In sign on the campus of Azusa Pacific University.

A portion of Route 66 that runs parallel with I-15.

Signs of Route 66 through the town of Oro Grande, Calif.

Elmer’s Bottle Tree Ranch.

The interior of the Formosa Cafe in West Hollywood.

The historic train car at the Formosa Cafe.

Mel’s Drive-In diner in Santa Monica.

Route 66 memorabilia at Mel’s Drive-in diner.

Route 66 Burger at Mel’s Drive-In, a popular stop for Route 66 travelers.

The Santa Monica Pier, which marks the western end of Route 66.

Memorabilia for sale on the Santa Monica Pier.

Scenes from the Santa Monica Pier and the end of Route 66.

A sign marking the end of Route 66 on the Santa Monica Pier.

The entrance to the Santa Monica Pier.

The Santa Monica Pier at dusk.

Two-thousand, four-hundred and forty-eight miles. That was the span of Route 66 when highway officials stitched it together to link Chicago, Los Angeles and countless cities and towns in between. But as an enduring American symbol, this highway reaches much further than that, inspiring books, songs, movies and countless road trips.

It turns 100 this year, so with summer coming, we drove it all.

Across eight states, we scouted out vintage motels, new businesses, neon signs, friendly Muffler Men, road food, vivid characters and 20th century ruins. We also kept our eyes open for hints of the road’s evolution, from the Dust Bowl years, segregation and the postwar boom to the freeway-era slump and the reemergence of Route 66 as a long, winding and living historic landmark.

Now we’re taking you along for the ride. If you’ve ever daydreamed about covering some part of the famous roadway, hop on in and let’s get our kicks, shall we?

Distraught onlookers caught the moment a monster truck lost control at a car show and plowed into spectators in Colombia, killing at least three people, including a 10-year-old girl. Around 40 people were injured.

Despite efforts to rebuild ties with Western nations, Syria remains heavily dependent on Russia for its oil supply. Since the fall of Bashar al Assad in late 2024, shipments from Russia have surged, making Moscow the primary supplier of crude to Syria.

This shift comes even as the new government in Damascus seeks closer alignment with Europe and the United States. The contradiction highlights the economic constraints facing a country still recovering from years of war and isolation.

Rising Dependence on Russian Oil
Russian oil exports to Syria have increased significantly, now covering a large portion of the country’s energy needs. Domestic production remains far below demand, leaving Syria reliant on imports to sustain basic economic activity.

Before 2025, Iran had been Syria’s main supplier, but that relationship ended following political changes in Damascus. Russia quickly stepped in, becoming the first to resume large scale shipments after the leadership transition.

Limited Alternatives and Structural Weakness
Syria’s options remain extremely limited. Years of conflict have weakened its economy, reduced purchasing power, and restricted access to global financial systems. Even after the easing of Western sanctions, integration into international markets remains slow and incomplete.

Efforts to secure alternative suppliers, including potential deals with regional partners such as Turkey, have so far failed. This leaves Russian supply networks as the most accessible and reliable option in the short term.

Sanctions Risk and Diplomatic Tension
Reliance on Russian oil poses significant risks for Syria’s foreign relations. Continued trade with Moscow could strain ties with Western governments and expose Syria to renewed sanctions, particularly if geopolitical tensions escalate.

The situation is further complicated by Russia’s ongoing military presence in Syria, including key naval and air bases. These assets give Moscow continued influence over the country’s strategic direction.

Opaque Supply Chains and Sanctioned Networks
Much of the oil trade is conducted through complex and opaque shipping networks. Tankers linked to sanctioned entities frequently deliver crude to Syrian ports, often using ship to ship transfers to obscure the origin of cargo.

These methods reflect both necessity and constraint. Syria’s exclusion from conventional shipping and financial systems has pushed it toward alternative networks that carry reputational and legal risks.

Supply Gap and Energy Reality
Syria’s domestic oil production remains a fraction of pre war levels, while demand continues to exceed supply. Russian shipments now fill a significant portion of this gap, alongside smaller volumes obtained through informal or regional channels.

This dependency underscores the difficulty of rebuilding an energy sector after prolonged conflict, particularly without strong international investment or infrastructure support.

Analysis
Syria’s reliance on Russian oil reveals the limits of political realignment when economic realities remain unchanged. While Damascus may seek closer ties with the West, its immediate survival depends on securing energy supplies, and Russia is currently the only actor able and willing to meet that need at scale.

For Moscow, the relationship offers continued leverage in Syria despite the fall of its former ally. Energy supply becomes a tool of influence, allowing Russia to maintain a strategic foothold even as political dynamics shift.

At the same time, the arrangement creates long term risks for Syria. Dependence on sanctioned networks could undermine efforts to rebuild credibility with international partners and attract investment. It also leaves the country vulnerable to external pressure, particularly if Western governments decide to enforce stricter controls on Russian energy flows.

Ultimately, Syria is caught between geopolitical ambition and economic necessity. Until it diversifies its energy sources and strengthens its economic foundations, its foreign policy choices will remain constrained by the basic need to keep fuel flowing.

With information from Reuters.

MYLEENE Klass is back in the swim of things in a white bikini — 20 years after famously wearing one in the I’m A Celebrity jungle shower.

The presenter, 48, wore the simple two-piece in the sea in a South Africa photoshoot.

The design is for Freemans.com — after her first range for them sold out last year.

Myleene first wore her most famous look during a stint on the ITV1 show in 2006, on which she was a runner–up behind winner Matt Willis, 42.

She then returned to the jungle to compete in 2023’s first all-stars series, I’m A Celebrity… South Africa, which she won.

She previously said she had no idea the 2006 swimwear — later auctioned for £7,500 for charity — would cause a stir and bought it in a rush before the show.

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She admitted last year: “I remember one of the show’s producers looking at my bikinis in the hotel before I went to camp.

“One was covered in stripes, and they said, ‘We’ll have to stop at the shops as that’s probably going to strobe on camera’.

“I ran into the shop en route to the jungle and asked the shop assistant for the plainest bikini she had. Best $40 I ever spent!”

JACK Fincham was spotted leaving casting for a new reality TV show just days after opening up about his rebab and homelessness.

The former Love Island star, 34, flashed a big smile as he emerged from a studio in Soho wearing a retro tracksuit.

Jack looked pleased with himself after he met with producers for a big project for a Channel 5 show.

He sported a retro look in an 1980s Sergio Tacchini tracksuit which caught the attention of a few passer by who stopped to take selfies with Jack.

Jack added a pair of aviator sunglasses to his look and black trainers.

He looked in a high spirits after spending the afternoon with bosses for a secret new telly appearance, which is yet to be announced.

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Jack has had a rough time lately and credited his pet dog Elvis for helping him get through his darkest times.

The reality star confessed he’s struggling with life after rehab as he told fans he’s homeless and living in a hotel with his dog.

Earlier this year, Jack relapsed into drinking and drugs and had just £20 to his name.

He then spent two months receiving £32,000 of treatment at Rainford Hall, Merseyside.

Jack opened up on life post rehab as he took to Instagram.

He admitted that he’s currently homeless and is not sure where to go moving forward as there’s nothing “much left” for him in England.

He said: “In case anyone is wondering where I am, I’m staying a hotel with the dog. I’m just gonna reset and work out what to do and where I wanna live.

“Got my beautiful dog Elvis, without him I probably wouldn’t even be here to be honest.”

Jack has owned his black Cane Corso dog, named Elvis, since at least September 2022, when the dog was involved in a biting incident.

Despite legal trouble regarding the dog being “dangerously out of control” in 2022 and June 2024, Jack has expressed his attachment to the pet.

The second incident that occurred in June 2024 led to a suspended sentence for Jack in 2025.

Meanwhile, Jack’s relationship with his family hasn’t been the same since he returned home.

Jack added: “One thing they told me in rehab and it’s true, you’re not gonna walk out of rehab to a red carpet rolled out for you because it’s stuff you should have been doing anyway.”

He also thanked the staff from his rehab, saying “that level of kindness I wasn’t used to for a while, I found it quite alien.”

Jack remains optimistic and hopes to get back into TV, saying: “I’m gonna do my acting and get back into TV work, I’m gonna do all the things I said I was gonna do.”

Jack previously did a stint in rehab back in 2021, but relapsed before Christmas last year.

He spoke of the spiral back in January, he explained: “Since then I have done drugs, I have done laughing gas.

“I have been so drunk that I’ve kissed a woman over Christmas and don’t even remember doing it. I’m embarrassed, mortified. I feel like an idiot.

“I am a 33-year-old man. I should be settled down, married. Instead I need help.”

Jack first shot to fame on Love Island, where he won over the nation with his charm and went on to win the series.

He won the show alongside Dani Dyer in 2018.

They were paired together on day one and chose to split the £50,000 prize.

But their relationship didn’t last long once they left the villa.

A day into the U.S.-imposed military blockade of the Strait of Hormuz, several ships have apparently transited the narrow waterway, including at least two that reportedly had previously stopped at Iranian ports. However, U.S. Central Command (CENTCOM) is pushing back against claims that vessels ran the blockade. As we noted yesterday, CENTCOM said the maritime exclusion operation would be “enforced impartially against vessels of all nations entering or departing Iranian ports and coastal areas, including all Iranian ports on the Arabian Gulf and Gulf of Oman.”

Meanwhile, there are indications that the U.S. and Iran may continue seeking a diplomatic offramp to the crisis, which began Feb. 28 when America and Israel began bombarding the Islamic Republic. We will discuss that in greater detail later in this story.

Christianna, a Liberia-flagged cargo ship, “exited the Persian Gulf through the strait on Monday night, after leaving the Iranian port city of Bandar Imam Khomeini,” The New York Times reported, citing the global trade intelligence firm Kpler. It said the ship was not carrying any cargo.

In addition, Elpis, a methanol carrier, “traversed the strait roughly around the time that the U.S. blockade began, according to ship-tracking data,” the newspaper added, “Kpler said that the vessel had been at the Iranian port of Bushehr. The United States had placed sanctions on the ship last year under an earlier name, Chamtang, over its connections to the Iranian oil trade.”