“Good vs. evil” stories may be fun and comforting to watch, but they aren’t representative of reality and therefore don’t prepare us to navigate reality effectively. Historical fiction, especially, is full of embellishments and details that have been changed for a reason. That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy art, but it does mean we should consume it with our brains turned on.
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’m a sucker for marketing gimmicks, especially when they involve sustainability, which is why a new line of wool garments caught my eye. Wool is making a resurgence among outdoorsy and travel-minded communities, and it aligns nicely with principles of environmental conservation. This natural fiber is lightweight, durable, insulating, and doesn’t hold onto odors the way plastic-based performance fabric alternatives do.
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.
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.
I’m not a car person, but I do appreciate good engineering and design of cars that are way out of my price range. Our last stop in Japan was a famous (and infamous) car meet that inspired the movie “Tokyo Drift.” Walking among the lovingly modified cars, I wondered if such events will survive our eventual transition from internal combustion engines to electric vehicles.
Affordability often comes with a price somewhere in the supply chain. In the case of instant noodles, it could be deforestation for ingredients and oil extraction for packaging long before the noodles hit the store and/or adverse health outcomes long after they hit the stomach. Nevertheless, this invention was an unexpected marvel that buoyed the Japanese economy and still supports disaster relief efforts worldwide.
Tokyo is an absolute playground for novel activities, and one thing on our do-to list for this last trip was visiting a capybara cafe. This South American rodent has won the hearts of the Japanese with its easy going demeanor and cross-species friendships. Of course, any interactions with exotic animals beg questions of ethics: what are the benefits and the costs of these visits?