• Every month, the large amounts of money on our credit card bills worried me.
• At the beginning of the year, I looked more closely at one particular statement than I had before.
• I was shocked by the number of transactions I didn’t recognize. They turned out to be subscriptions.

My 17-year-old daughter told me that she’d been offered a special deal at the Verizon store: access to Apple Music for up to six people for $10 a month. She was desperate to take advantage of the promotion and said the streaming service had an amazing selection of songs.

I said no, not only because we have Spotify, but also because I’d had a rude awakening after New Year’s.

My husband and I were worried about how much we were charging to our credit cards, especially during the holiday period.

We decided to do a financial tune-up, and I was responsible for reviewing the Mastercard statement. We only used it as a secondary payment method if a merchant didn’t accept American Express.

I thought I’d been subject to fraud

As a result, I rarely looked at the bill. This time, however, I printed the statement covering November 11 to December 12, 2025, when we did most of our Christmas shopping.

There were a few transactions for items like coffee at a little café that doesn’t take Amex and some co-pays for doctors’ visits, but there were others I didn’t recognize.

What on earth was Uexton? I’d paid them $19.99 on November 11. Then there was Sportelx, to whom I’d paid $29.55 on November 21. I’d never heard of it.

I Googled to find that Uxeton was a gaming website and Sportelx was a sports news service.

I’d been a victim of fraud on several occasions, and assumed it had happened again.

Then, I looked over the rest of the bill and saw payments of $29.99 to ESPN New York, $14.99 to Canva, and $11.95 to Audiobookstore.com. As far as I was concerned, neither my husband, kids, nor I had used any of them.

There was also a $25 fee to Rockin’ Jump, where my son went once a week before getting too old for a trampoline park. Why were we still paying for his membership?

I reviewed the last two months’ statements and realized the suspicious payments had occurred before, on the same day each month.

It wasn’t fraud. The recurring fees were subscriptions we’d signed up for before switching banks and credit cards. Some went back years. We had failed to cancel Rockin’ Jump. I didn’t know how the rest had come about.

Over the next few hours, I racked my brains trying to figure out where they came from. The only thing I could think of was that my spouse or I must have shared our credit card information at some point to get a trial subscription.

We’d wasted almost $1,600 annually

We must have forgotten to cancel at the end of the free or discounted period. The total of our unnecessary payments was $131.88 a month, the equivalent of a family cellphone plan.

Over the years, I calculated that we’d spent almost $1,600 annually on streaming and other services we didn’t touch. It was hard to blame the companies that use subscription models when I had been the one to drop the ball. I felt dumb and ashamed.

I sprang into action, canceling as many fees as I could. In most cases, I found it much more difficult to unsubscribe than to subscribe because of the hoops you have to jump through.

Still, the experience taught me a lesson. It’s no thank you to tempting — but ultimately useless — offers from now on.

• China placed a top general under investigation, deepening a sweeping anti-corruption purge.
• Dozens of senior officers have been removed, thinning experience at the highest levels of command.
• The shakeup raises questions about combat readiness.

China’s drive to modernize its military to rival the US armed forces is running parallel with an aggressive purge of its senior leaders.

The People’s Liberation Army has been repeatedly shaken by a massive anti-corruption campaign led by Chinese leader Xi Jinping. Now, the military leadership is under renewed scrutiny after one of China’s most senior generals was placed under investigation.

The latest disruptions within the PLA, the world’s largest military and one of its most powerful, raise questions about who is leading the force and how the shake-ups are affecting the military as an organization and impacting readiness.

This past weekend, China’s defense ministry announced investigations into Gen. Zhang Youxia, vice chairman of the Central Military Commission, and Liu Zhenli, the chief of staff of the commission’s joint staff department. Zhang was widely believed to be one of Xi’s trusted military advisors.

An editorial published in official PLA media said the two had “seriously betrayed the trust and expectations” of both the Communist Party and the CMC and “fostered political and corruption problems that undermined the party’s absolute leadership over the military and threatened the party’s ruling foundation.”

Analysts Business Insider spoke with said the accusations suggested more than just financial corruption, which has been the case for others. Rather, the language indicates Zhang and Liu challenged Xi’s authority, whether through disagreements on modernization goals, failures to meet expectations, or power and influence struggles within the ranks. The reasons may never be known, as China’s “black box” opacity increasingly blurs realities inside its government.

A report from the Wall Street Journal raised the possibility Zhang leaked nuclear weapons data to the US. Business Inside is unable to independently verify the information.

Of the seven officials appointed to the Central Military Commission in 2022, only two — Xi himself and Zhang Shengmin, the commission’s anti-graft officer — remain in power. The rest are either under investigation or have been expelled.

Two defense ministers have been ousted, and last October, nine top PLA commanders were purged. The exact number of senior military leaders affected is unknown, but there are indications the purge has deeply impacted the senior officer corps.

Zhang is the highest-ranking official affected by Xi’s crackdown on the military. And across the lower ranks of the PLA, dozens of other officers have been removed from their positions.

“This is kind of the ultimate crescendo of this anti-corruption campaign in the military,” Jonathan Czin, an expert at the Brookings Institute who previously served as a top China analyst for the Central Intelligence Agency and director for China at the United States National Security Council, told Business Insider.

“It sends a very clear sign throughout the system that nobody is safe regardless of what kind of relationship you had or have with Xi Jinping,” he said.

More investigations may follow those of Zhang and Liu. Officials with ties to the two men could come under suspicion as well, analysts said. Other senior people have been notably absent from important meetings in recent months, suggesting more shakeups.

That leaves Xi with a difficult next step: deciding who can credibly fill the vacancies.

Because so many senior officers have been removed or face investigations, “the pool of candidates for refilling top positions has been winnowed,” Brian Hart, the deputy director and fellow at the Center for Strategic and International Studies’ China Power Project, told Business Insider. “Xi could continue to use the existing command structure of the CMC and fill it with new people loyal to him,” he added. “It is also possible Xi could try to start over with a bit of a blank slate by more fundamentally remaking the PLA’s leadership structure.”

Fewer experienced commanders could slow coordination across China’s military — a serious challenge for complex operations like a blockade or invasion of Taiwan.

Some PLA watchers argue Xi appears willing to accept those short-term costs if the result is a force that is more politically loyal and disciplined over time. The PLA Daily editorial framed the campaign as a net positive, arguing that “the more the People’s Army fights corruption, the stronger, purer, and more combat-capable it becomes.”

A senior Pentagon official previously speculated that the extensive corruption in China’s military was hindering its modernization.

Amid disruptions in the force, China may seek to send a signal that shake-ups aren’t affecting military readiness.

“You could actually see an uptick in the number of major exercises around Taiwan, but internally it could mask significant upheaval and disarray within the PLA,” Lyle Morris, a senior fellow for foreign policy and national security at the Asia Society Policy Institute’s Center for China Analysis, told Business Insider.

China staged large joint exercises around Taiwan following earlier purge waves. Such actions could project readiness despite leadership turmoil.

The internal upheaval is likely having an effect, though, China watchers said. “It is hard to deny that this creates challenges for the PLA in the short term,” Hart said. “Any leader deciding on using force would want senior leaders and commanders in place who are loyal, experienced, and effective in their roles. The immense turnover within the PLA’s highest ranks complicates that.”

Disney theme parks have become significantly more expensive, with prices for food, merchandise, and tickets rising much faster than inflation. A Mickey ice cream bar that cost $2.75 in 2009 now costs $6.50, and top-tier annual passes have nearly doubled in price over the past decade. While Disney cites inflation, labor costs, and heavy investment in new attractions, changes in pricing strategy — including demand-based tickets and paid add-ons — have played a major role. As Disney’s streaming business struggled, its parks became the company’s biggest source of profit, raising questions about how much fans are willing — or able — to pay for the magic.

• Even as a Maui local, I was surprised by how familiar, yet new, Molokai felt.
• The island’s slow pace and tight-knit community reshaped how I think about travel in Hawaii.
• Molokai’s history, environmental realities, and quiet landscapes left a lasting impression.

Growing up on the west side of Maui, I could always see Molokai, but I never made the trek across the channel.

For years, it was easy to visit, with a ferry running between my hometown of Lahaina and Molokai’s main town, Kaunakakai.

When the ferry was discontinued in 2016, a short commuter flight on Mokulele Airlines became the primary way to access Molokai — one reason it’s considered the least touristy Hawaiian island.

After 30 years, I finally visited Molokai. Here are the nine things that surprised me most about my trip to the so-called Friendly Isle.

Parts of Molokai looked and felt similar to Maui.

Flying in, Molokai’s rugged mountains reminded me of Pu’u Kukui on Maui, with deep ridges layered in countless shades of green.

Patches of iron-rich earth felt familiar, too. As a kid, I always called it “red Maui dirt,” but traveling throughout Hawaii taught me it isn’t exclusive to my home island.

At Molokai Airport and Pala’au State Park, towering ironwood trees instantly transported me back to Kapalua.

These similarities aren’t a coincidence: Over a million years ago, Maui, Molokai, Lāna’i, and Kaho’olawe were once a single landmass known as Maui Nui.

Kindness wasn’t surprising, but being remembered was.

Molokai’s nickname, the Friendly Isle, quickly proved accurate. Everyone I met was warm and welcoming — even before they knew I was from a neighboring island.

A man who worked at the Molokai Museum and Cultural Center invited me to the town’s monthly First Friday market. When I arrived, he greeted me by name, remembering it from the museum guestbook.

At Molokai Hot Bread, the woman behind the counter offered to store my bread in her personal fridge to keep it fresh until my flight home.

When I returned to pick it up, she greeted me by name, too.

Driving without traffic lights was relaxing, not chaotic.

I expected the absence of traffic lights to feel chaotic, especially in downtown Kaunakakai. Instead, driving here felt calm and intuitive.

There were still speed limits, stop signs, and road etiquette. Using your indicator felt even more important than usual.

One exception was the east side of Molokai, where oceanfront roads were largely empty, and some stretches didn’t even have guardrails.

Though locals occasionally passed my rental car, I never encountered any traffic.

I kept running into familiar faces — people I already knew from Maui and new connections I made on Molokai.

Running into someone I knew on the flight there felt like a coincidence, but seeing another familiar face on the return trip reminded me just how interconnected Hawaii’s island communities are and how easily they intersect.

As I met new people throughout my trip, I kept seeing them elsewhere on the island.

My favorite moment came after a guided hike through Halawa Valley, where the only other participant turned out to be a fellow Hotel Molokai guest.

When we parted ways, she said, “Have a nice life,” but I reminded her there’s no Hawaiian word for goodbye — only a “hui hou,” meaning “until we meet again.”

Sure enough, we saw each other again at sunset back at the hotel, and we both laughed when I said, “I knew I’d see you again!”

Learning from a cultural practitioner changed how I think about Hawaiian language and identity.

My guided hike through Halawa Valley included stories rooted in oral tradition, offering insight into Molokai’s history and Hawaiian culture at large.

One surprising takeaway was that many Molokai residents don’t use ‘okina or kahakō in everyday language. According to my guide, this supports pronouncing the island as “Molo-kai” rather than “Molo-kuh-e” — a debate Iʻd heard many times growing up.

He also shared that, in his family’s teachings, anyone born in the state is Hawaiian, while Native Hawaiian refers specifically to those with Hawaiian ancestry. That distinction stood out to me, especially since I’ve often corrected people who assumed I was Hawaiian simply because I was born and raised here.

Importantly, he emphasized that beliefs vary by family and region, and the best practice is always to ask and listen.

Finding litter and plastic debris on a remote beach brought a major global issue into perspective.

After my hike, I walked down to Halawa Beach and was struck by the dramatic beauty of the valley meeting the ocean.

Once on the sand, I noticed countless pieces of trash and plastic embedded throughout the shoreline. Instead of swimming or sunbathing, I spent about 30 minutes picking up the multicolored fragments, eventually filling my hands with a rainbow of debris.

It was a sobering reminder that even Hawaii’s most remote places aren’t untouched by global environmental issues.

Kalaupapa Lookout felt deeply grounding, both historically and spiritually.

Kalaupapa’s history has stayed with me since childhood. This peninsula was once used as a forced quarantine for people with Hansen’s disease before a cure was discovered.

Seeing it in person was heavy and humbling, especially knowing access remains limited, even today.

What surprised me most was the spiritual energy of the place. I initially explored other parts of the park, but strong winds seemed to guide me toward the lookout, and I arrived just in time to see a vivid rainbow stretch across the cliffs.

I knew hunting was a popular pastime, but I didn’t expect to see so many wild game birds and bones.

I didn’t expect to see wild turkeys roaming near the road, or so many bones scattered across the island.

My Halawa Valley guide explained that game birds like turkeys, pheasants, and quail were introduced for hunting. I also learned that while Maui has a large axis deer population, the species was first introduced to Molokai.

During various hikes, I spotted everything from small joints to full skulls, and even a naturally shed deer antler.

A slow pace was expected, but it felt surreal to experience so many empty spaces.

I expected Molokai to move slowly, but I didn’t anticipate just how empty it would feel.

From beaches and roads to entire towns, I often had places entirely to myself. Visiting in early December may have played a role, but the quiet seemed intrinsic to the island.

That stillness is part of Molokai’s allure — and a testament to it being Hawaii’s least touristy island.

Seeing Maui from a distance gave me a new appreciation for home.

Not only did I get to see my home island from an angle I’d never experienced before, but returning from Molokai also made me appreciate how much there is to do on Maui.

Any hint of island fever I’d been feeling quietly faded, replaced by gratitude for the pace and variety of home.

• After living most of my life in the US, I moved back home to Australia.
• Believing it would be an easy move, I instead experienced culture shock and felt like a stranger.
• Only when I let go of the expectation that it would immediately feel like home did I start to find my place.

When I was in my early 30s, I went for a three-week holiday to my home in Sydney and never left.

For years, I had toyed with the idea of moving back home, a place I had not lived since I was 7 years old. I’d even made a couple of attempts at it, but the comfortable pull of family and more than 25 years of life in the US always lured me back.

When extending my trip week by week turned into deciding to stay, I assumed slotting back into life in Australia would be the easiest move of my life. After all, I was used to adjusting to a new environment. My father’s job in the film industry meant I spent my childhood moving frequently (13 different schools in multiple cities and countries).

Surely moving back home would feel as comforting as slipping on a well-worn, much-loved cardigan. I was wrong.

The unexpected culture shock of coming home

I never thought I would experience culture shock moving back to Australia, but that was exactly what happened. All my years overseas meant I had missed large parts of general knowledge, I didn’t understand cultural references or sayings, and I found Australian politics completely befuddling.

Although I still sounded Australian, a quick conversation, which inexplicably always started with “where did you go to high school?” quickly established I was not from here. After being viewed as a foreigner my whole life in the US, I was now viewed as a foreigner in Australia, too.

What’s more, I realized with surprise that I was culturally very American. All the things I had taken for granted in the US (convenience, customer service, and affordability) just didn’t exist in Australia.

I had to do some life adjustments

There were the daily frustrations of not being able to get a coffee past 3 p.m. (or before 7 a.m.), no salad bars or real Mexican food, and the expense of absolutely everything (Sydney is Australia’s most expensive city).

Cultural norms were an even bigger adjustment. Handshakes for acquaintances and bear hugs for friends (standard etiquette in the US) were replaced with one or two kisses to the side of (not on) the cheek.

Making friends with Sydney-siders felt hard, so I initially gravitated toward foreigners who were generally open and friendly. When I’d meet Americans, I felt an innate level of comfort and familiarity unlike anything else.

I had expected it to be easy to move back

In my first year back home, I thought a lot about the phrase “you can never go home again.” I’d always been pretty dismissive of it, believing I could return to Australia at any time and it would feel like home. Finally, I came to understand the truth in the phrase. We just can’t return to a previous place or point in life and recapture our original experience.

Just like I adjusted to the culture shock of moving to the US as a little girl (hello, mayo on sandwiches, ice in water, and excessive air conditioning), I needed to acclimatize to Australia. I had been making the move so much harder than it needed to be because I expected it to be easy and familiar.

As I started to let go of the expectation that I’d fit right in, I started to feel more at home, back home. I built up experiences and connections that grounded me, and as I got older, my American background became less noticeable and less relevant. It’s taken a long time, but I now feel entirely at home here. In the end, the key was to start from scratch and get to know my hometown as an adult, rediscovering my Australian identity along the way.

Greenland holds vast reserves of rare earths that power everything from electric vehicles to military tech. As the world races to loosen China’s grip on critical minerals, this Arctic island is emerging as a new battleground, where extreme conditions, soaring costs, and local resistance stand in the way. Can Greenland become the next global player in the resource race?