Countries I have called home (and that my ancestors called home) have problematic aspects to their histories, and I worry that celebrating the good can seem like I’m ignoring the bad. After wrestling with history, optics, intention, and impact as a tourist in Germany, I think there’s an effective way to elevate what we’ve learned from darker days and celebrate efforts to do better.
I was thrilled to discover that a friend in Germany baked the same Christmas cookies my family has for generations. The popular origin story of the cookie has been debunked by food historians, but what’s far more interesting is how beloved recipes persist with only small variations across centuries and continents. With no kids to receive my family recipes, I’m starting to share them.
Many widespread Christmas traditions originally come from Germany, including some that are especially dark (or fun, depending on your inclinations), such as Krampusnacht. One of our favorite shows highlighted this out-of-the-ordinary Christmastime festivity in an out-of-the-way location. Consequently, in an effort to better understand how culture spreads across national borders, we wound up visiting the curious German-speaking Italian province of South Tyrol.
I had hoped my first bout with COVID-19 (during 2024’s “FLiRT” variants) would be my last. Unfortunately, 2025’s “Nimbus” caught up with me, landing me on the couch for many hours with nothing to do but research my adversary. It is more important than ever that we understand these increasingly transmissible COVID-19 variants, especially in an age of decreasingly reliable information online.
Rituals can bring comfort in times of grief, but they can also be counterproductive when arbitrary standards override personal needs. While grieving a loss myself, it was interesting to explore rigid societal expectations around mourning in a time of massive technological and cultural upheaval. (And we’re not talking about the twenty-first century: this post focuses on the birth of fast fashion during the Victorian Era.)
It’s not the end, but it is an end. The final debrief of our year together in the Climate Lab was bittersweet and carried with it intentions to pay our lessons forward into the world – collaborating with each other, if possible. For my part, I want to continue bridging gaps in knowledge and perspectives to co-create more equitable solutions to the climate crisis.
The 250th anniversary of the American Revolution (during unprecedented tumult in our democracy) has had many thinking about what it takes to stand up to tyranny. The rise and fall of authoritarian regimes can hinge on outside-the-box thinking and the presence of an educated populace armed with critical thinking skills and knowledge of history – and we saw a call for that this past week.
As our time in the Climate Lab came to an end, we began thinking about what we had learned in the program and how to apply it to our work moving forward. My lessons from Japan highlighted the value of broad perspectives that hold room for a variety of ideas. I hope to use this concept to help build bridges across unlikely groups.
Good travel puts us outside our comfort zone and broadens our perspectives. Our trip to Okinawa in the Climate Lab connected us with government officials, entrepreneurs, researchers, and community volunteers – people working on the issue of climate change from different angles. A conversation with the former Vice Governor of the prefecture helped me better understand ways we can build bridges across professional islands.
Travels with the Climate Lab took me to Okinawa for the first (but hopefully not last) time. This Japanese prefecture (and former kingdom in its own right) is an absolute melting pot of cultures, disciplines, and functions in society. For someone who is regularly trying to break down silos in my own work, I was thrilled to see what lessons Okinawa had to offer.