Philippe Lazaro
OCTOBER 2016

Thanks for 2024

What an intense year 2024 turned out to be. So many peaks, some really deep pits, and a lot of gratitude to get another lap on this gift of life.

Thank you for being a big part of my journey. Whether you’re here for my art, climate work, traves, storytelling, an IRL friendship, or just like lurking because those are some eclectic interests.

Made one last longform video for the year. It’s a year that does not lend itself to being wrapped up in a bow, but here’s to looking back and forward!

Josh Gibson

Gibson the GOAT.

In the world of baseball, one of my favorite things from this year was seeing the official incorporation of Negro League statistics into the Major League recordbook, making Josh Gibson the official batting title holder of all time.

Drew this to commemorate. Josh Gibson has been featured in a lot of art, but it’s usually in black and white, or very muted color. To be fair, he played in the black-and-white era on a team called the Grays. But, I wanted to go color rich here. The league was a VIBRANT place to play.

Justice is a Garment, Love is a Thread

This upcoming spring, I will celebrate eight years of work with Plant With Purpose.

Eight years of being part of a team working to reverse poverty and climate chaos.

I’ve seen the organization grow substantially in those eight years, but it’s especially cool to know that I’ve grown as well. In those eight years, I’ve had three kids, seen a lot of the world as a climate storyteller, and learned. So much learning.

I don’t know if one can work as closely as I’ve worked with people who are directly affected by the climate crisis without a fortified desire to take on a few sustainable living changes. One thing I’ve become much more invested in is how long I can get things to last. The way so much of the world has oriented itself around disposable things only makes me more eager to see things hold up well.

The latest model phone is nowhere as exciting to me as one turning seven or eight. Some of my favorite items in my closet include a track jacket, about to turn eight, and a 2011 tee from a nonprofit I worked at.

It’s all about the material, really. And not taking shortcuts. While lower-quality things might look the same out of the box, the difference in material will be apparent in due time. Just ask Major League Baseball, whose “new, performance-oriented” jerseys debuted in the 2024 season to a whole host of issues, ranging from see-through material, jerseys that tore way too easily, and colors that often failed to match.

My senior year of college, I made my way to Portland with a couple of friends.

We were slated to attend an event titled The Justice Conference, featuring a lineup of speakers and artists around the topic of justice. There would be an exhibition hall of nonprofits, interesting art displays, and the speaker lineup included theologians, nonprofit leaders, and even Ben from Ben & Jerry’s.

(In case you’re curious, he used stacks of Oreo cookies to visually show how the US budget for military spending compared to virtually everything else, and all the problems a single Oreo could solve if redirected towards, say, education or healthcare.)

For someone about to leave the university confines and figure out what to do in life, the conference was energizing. Here was a conference center packed with hundreds, maybe thousands of people who somehow found a way to make doing good and solving problems into their life’s work. And they seemed energized by it. They had cool stories and so much to talk about. And sometimes… stickers.

I was captivated by the speakers, but even more,I was intrigued by the opportunity that seemed to be available to those who pursued it: to spend oneself on behalf of the marginalized, mistreated, and rejected. It felt cool and countercultural, while simultaneously being the right thing to do.

There were a lot of ironies inherent with the conference, the most apparent being that justice simply isn’t itself when you make it an intellectual concept. Justice is a course of action that bears itself out in each decision. But, it can be a whole lot easier to make those decisions when you’re with your people and it's baked into the culture. In Portland, that was how it felt.

My thoughts on justice have evolved a bit since 2012.

Hopefully yours have too. 2012 was quite a while ago.

Today, there’s a lot of talk about justice online, and I’ll admit, it just isn’t the same.

I saw some photos shared by Kamran, a cyclist I keep up with, who also happens to be a pretty sharp photographer. He was bike-touring Madagascar and he shared images from the country’s gold mines. Madagascar isn’t a country particularly known for gold, but in recent years, its been producing around 1.5 million kilograms a year. The gold is often found in remote areas, and men, women, and children from some of the most impoverished Malagasy communities wind up working in the mines. The work is exploitative and the worker treatment is poor.

Whether its cobalt in the Congo or gold in Madagascar, I can’t look past the irony of people being treated as dispensable resources in order to source the precious artifact of rocks. It’s like we’ve managed to lose sight of how valuable a person is, how precious life is, and how irreplaceable any individual‘s contribution to the world really is. The photos brought back some of my own memories of talking to brickyard workers in Bangladesh. We’ve really lost our way when it comes how to treat each other.

This is the sort of thing that gets me angry. That’s supposed to get you angry. It reminds me of that stirring I felt in high school, when documentaries introduced me to the unthinkable reality of children conscripted in war.

To me, there’s a difference in material, a difference between the righteous anger one is supposed to feel when the humanity of another is violated, and the rage bait the internet continues to try and sucker us into every day. The latter feels like a misuse of a holy sense of anger we were given. We’re supposed to channel that intolerance for injustice into action. Instead, the internet has give our holy anger a hamster wheel.

This winter marks four years since I lost a very good friend too soon.

A great person, who made everyone she connected with feel valued to no end. She seemed to see everybody in the best light possible, and in doing so, made them all a little more like that version of themselves.

Whenever I think about our friendship, there are plenty of memories to draw upon, but the thing that stands out more than any specific event is that feeling. The feeling of being celebrated and valued by somebody else. It was the basic building block of every action she took on, from giving other people rides to taking on office tasks, phone calls and stationery.

That was the material. The material was the good stuff, and four years later, it lasts.

I suspect most changemakers: activists, organizers, advocates, nonprofit leaders, have had someone in their lives who seemed to embody the values of change, justice, and unity, despite having a position removed from what we think of as the front lines. The barber who knows how to listen. The grandmother who gives and gives and gives. The person who always sees the best in you.

I love these people. And I’ve met so many of them around the world. They’re in preschools in Johannesburg. Special-ed classrooms in the Central Valley. Farms in Guatemala. And as they live lives full of seemingly ordinary things, those who witness it know that they are exactly what the world needs.

Good material.

The Justice Conference came with a pretty sweet swag bag.

A cardboard-brown moleskin, to remember all those hot, thought provoking quotes. A bracelet of beads, courtesy of a nonprofit, that was providing jobs and counseling to women escaping violence in India. A sample of coffee beans from Haiti, from these guys who told me about how Haiti used to have a robust coffee industry until US foreign policy ended it. Now they wanted to bring it back.

The item that stood out to me most, though, was the actual bag that it all came in. An actual burlap sack, re-shaped into a sleek tote. On its side, the slogan for the conference that year.

Justice is a Garment

Love is a Thread

One speaker, who I still remember all these years later, simply referred to justice as the perfect relationship between all. All living beings. All creatures. Neighborliness. And this calls for love to be the lasting material from which its woven. You can’t bring forth your macro-level vision of justice if you’ve neglected the core component of love.

When it comes to pursuing justice, I love and appreciate the role of strategic thought. I think a lot of good can be done by concentrating willpower and effort. I know that love can and often does take the form of forcing the hands of power towards some systemic change. I know that for so many people we love, that change can’t come soon enough.

But as we do the work, I think the material matters. There are many counterfeit products that could send someone down a path that looks like the one that leads towards justice, ego being one of the big ones.

But it’s further down the road where we see the real difference in material. Some hold up. Others don’t.

Today, I’m entirely discontent to stick with approaching justice as an abstract.

So many internet conversations about the pragmatic approach versus taking more drastic measures, so many internet conversations about people cutting other people out of their lives because of a clash in views. Because of violated boundaries and trust and a lack of safety. Because of a vote.

I can’t judge any of these decisions on an individual basis. I’m sure a good amount of them were merited. But it does seem like the work of repairing society is a lot less likely if we aren’t willing to attempt to repair our up-close relationships.

I resonate with some thoughts my friend Jordan put out there. Humanity is a group project right now, what with climate change and all kinds of other advances where our outcomes are intertwined. The way forward necessitates strong relationships, and yet we’re moving through a time where it’s easy to fracture relationships with no intent to heal.

Again, I can’t judge these things on an individual basis when some people were dealt an exceptionally bad hand and need those boundaries, but I think sometimes the rest of us mistake those times of necessity for an easy way out.

All that to say, you can’t give to the world what you don’t have within yourself. You can’t fill the world with wonder if your own reserve is running dry. Likewise, the work of justice and restoring relationships in the world is going to take an instinct to repair relationships when broken, rather than sending them to the landfill.

Justice is a Garment

Love is a Thread

In the end, good material is what lasts.

There’s a difference between the righteous anger we’re meant to feel towards injustice and the knockoff material of ragebait.

I think the distinction is this.

The former fuels you to repair relationships. To get people to see each other as human, and then to get people to see each other as intertwined. On the flipside, the main impulse that ragebait stirs up is always to separate. To quickly identify who’s doing it right, and who’s doing it wrong so you can position yourself accordingly. The actions that result are a defensive mood, meant to protect ego. Justice is a proactive posture, moving towards chaos with an intent to repair.

So much justice work is around recognizing what’s truly valuable. Knowing that people matter far more than the shiny rocks in life. Sometimes those shiny rocks are gemstones, other times they’re things like ego and being right.

When I think of my friend, who I often miss a lot this time of year, I think of the way she went through life with a lightness. She didn’t seem weighed down by the cynicism and frequent defeat that takes its toll on people who dedicate their days towards justice. She went about her work in a way that showed other people that they were valuable.

It’s not that she was unaware of the world, its problems, or distractions.

It's more like she was undistracted from the front-and-center work of loving the person in front of her.

Good material, indeed.

Leaving Reviews for 2024

When I travel I try to seek out as many community-based experiences as I can fit in. This past year especially has been full of some good ones.

I’m wanting to be a bit better at leaving reviews!

Having worked on several review-based creative projects, I know how valuable having solid reviews can be for your visibility. But it’s hard to remember to leave them, especially because time around trips tends to be busy. Knowing how people are more likely to leave reviews for negative experiences also makes me want to be better at leaving behind positive ones.

I decided to heat up some tea and make an evening of it. Turned out to be a great gratitude and remembering session too. 

Live the Actual Moment

“Live the actual moment. Only this actual moment is life. Don’t be attached to the future. Don’t worry about things you have to do. Don’t think about getting up or taking off to do anything. Don’t think about “departing”.”

–Thich Nhat Hanh

I love this Thich Nhat Hanh quote, and it remains so much easier to say than to actually do. But I get it. The key to actually living your life is to be in the scene that’s right in front of you and lock in.

Eternal Sunshine/Boyhood

Dual drawings to celebrate the anniversaries of a couple of the films that left the biggest impression on me.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind turned 20 years old this year, and I don’t know if you could’ve made it through the 2000s as a sentimental high schooler without feeling some sort of ridiculous connection to this film. The blend of melancholy and whimsy that was perfectly met by having Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet play opposite type. The aesthetic of a winter in Montauk. The way that sci-fi supports, without upstaging the human relationship at its heart. It’s weird, unexpected, and based on a recent rewatch, it ages pretty well.

Then there’s Boyhood, which turns ten this year. Probably not as widely canonized, but this film landed with me pretty deeply. The fact that production took place over 12 years. I am always drawn in by films that give proper weight to the passage of time and show you those things that are only visible in retrospect over a long period. I don’t know if anyone in film does that better than Richard Linklater. I remember those parting shots thinking, yeah… life is so many things. Hard, terrifying, hilarious, fast… but somehow it usually averages out to being beautiful.

In praise of a toddler-core Spotify Wrapped

My Spotify Wrapped for this year dropped the other week.

Okay, so did everybody else. I guess there’s no need to say that like it’s a personal exclusive.

The past year, from my viewpoint, was one of the best years for music we’ve had in a while. So many of my old favorites came out with new albums, from Vampire Weekend to Gallant to Lupe Fiasco. Hip hop had an especially strong year, especially with late-in-the-year drops from Kendrick Lamar and Tyler, the Creator.

But I knew exactly what to expect when opening up my listening stats.

There, in the number one spot, after such a great year of new music was none other than Brian Tyler.

Who?

You wouldn’t get it from his avatar, a back-lit, mostly silhouetted portrait of his head, but Brian Tyler composed the majority of the 2003 Super Mario Brothers movie soundtrack. And this was a big year for Mario in our house.

Of course, I am currently in that season of life where I share my Spotify account with the whole family. A family that currently consists of three preschool age students. It was actually to my surprise that the Frozen soundtrack was absent from the list, as was the early childhood hitmaker, Danny Go. I could’ve sworn they racked up enough minutes.

Our top song was actually Naacho Naacho, a Telugu dance anthem from the 2023 Indian film RRR that was performed at the Oscars. But it’s one of the kids’ favorite tracks for living room dance parties, so that also counts as one of theirs. Not Like Us managed to snag a spot, just ahead of two Mario songs. I am eternally grateful to Kendrick Lamar for getting into his rap feud as I was ramping up my marathon training.

Amusingly, Tyler, the Creator got the fifth spot in my top artists section. But I’m not sure if that’s due to Chromakopia, or the fact that he has two singles on the soundtrack of the 2018 rendition of The Grinch, my five year old’s current obsession.

Fighting the taste freeze

There’s a term for the reason songs don’t hit you quite like they did back in your teens and twenties, and that term is taste freeze. Past the age of 27, your taste in music is likely to stick. I’ve noticed my algorithms tend to recommend the exact same artists I was enamored with fifteen years ago, and while loyalty and longevity are worthy of praise, I discovered these artists because fifteen years ago, my musical horizons were really widening, and it doesn’t quite feel the same way anymore.

There are a whole bunch of theories why this happens, and I think they all contain validity.

For one, my late teens and early twenties were full of identity-shaping moments. When a song turns into the soundtrack for that evolution, it becomes so much more than a song. It becomes an totem. A means of taking yourself back to that moment.

Elbow’s Build a Rocket Boys will always send me to the streets of Buenos Aires, where I felt a sense of life being an adventure. Band of Horses’ Infinite Arms takes me to a late summer, post-breakup, where I realize that I was simply glad the relationship happened, despite its impermanence. All the spiritual themes of Sufjan Stevens’ Illinois album just so happen to coincide with my own spiritual formation.

But as you enter your thirties, your identity tends to be more stable. For better or worse, drastic changes are less likely.

There’s also the really practical fact that my time spent listening to music has really been reduced.

Should my kids be in the car, we’re more likely to be listening to their music. And some of my favorites are off the table. While working or running, podcasts compete for those listening moments too. There are so many good ones. Oh, and audiobooks.

The thought occurs to me that at some point, my kids will surpass me when it comes to their taste in music.

Of course, I’ll have the advantage of knowing what albums from my lifetime have aged well enough to be considered timeless. I’ll be able to put them on to the classics that came out before they were born, as all elders should. I imagine by the moment this time comes around, the list will include A Love Supreme alongside In Rainbows, Ziggy Stardust and DAMN.

But in this forthcoming era, let’s say the late 2030s and into the 40s, the most influential artists entering their peak will more likely be their contemporaries. And it’s my hope that as my role as their dad evolves to contain more elements of friendship, I hope playlist sharing is a part of that. (Or whatever the 2040s technological equivalent of that is).

I think a lot of parents think about the certain moments that they will be overtaken by their kids. The moment you stop being taller than them. The moment where one can finally beat you 1-on-1. The moment where you ask them for tech help.

For me, the musical taste eclipse is the one I think about the most, but I think if you play those cards right, it can be a beautiful thing.

You need to listen to Ngozi Starr. You might’ve heard her on the Black Panther 9 soundtrack…

Ah, hold up. This reminds me of Miseducation of Lauryn Hill. You ever hear that one?

No.

Okay, you’re really in for a treat.

At the moment, as I predict my three year old’s appetite for Blippi’s monster truck song before he even asks, the time feels far away. But we know it isn’t really.

“You know there’s a trick to not factor your kids’ music into your algorithm, right?”

A friend tells me.

She sends me a reel. Apparently, the trick is simply creating a separate playlist for them. You can then enable a setting on that playlist that discounts it from your listening statistics and algorithm.

I try it out. I make a playlist and drag the Hot Wheels soundtrack on to it, followed by Frozen, both 1 & 2.

Within a month, the playlist has gone outdated. My kids are more interested in Danny Go, who I don’t get around to adding to the playlist. I ultimately never do.

I think about this impulse. To want to sequester their taste in music onto a separate playlist so it doesn’t contaminate your own. There are some practical reasons, of course. For once, my Release Radar used to be a very useful tool for knowing when my favorite artists had new releases or finding similar artists. Now it is recommending nine different songs off Moana 2, The Minions Banana Song, and something called Freaky Song by Horror Skunx with cartoon aliens on the album art.

Plus, in those early days of parenthood, you quickly realize how quickly your identity has been usurped by your new role. You aren’t able to get out and have the social life you used to. Several activities that used to bring you joy need to be shelved as your world suddenly gets very small. You take on this role that really has no off-the-clock, and so for many, losing your Spotify calibration might feel like just another part of you that has gone off into the void. You love the kids, of course, the eternal disclaimer is always in effect. But also, who even are you these days?

#OneFamilyOneSpotifyAccount is my official rallying cry.

Over the past couple of years, I’ve embraced taking full ownership of my Spotify Wrapped at the end of the year, meaning showing it off with pride. The Mario-ness of it all.

This year, I’ve felt far less alone in that approach. I saw a friend’s Instagram story. Her kids have been loving Bluey. Who doesn’t?! I saw a vlogger I like, someone pretty big in the Australian punk scene, share his Wrapped, and had been similarly taken over by The Wiggles and Ms. Rachel and the like. And he was absolutely loving it.

“Underneath the fact that me and my daughter made it to the top .05% of listeners to Dance Mode on the Bluey soundtrack is the fact that every morning we had a dance party to the song, and that’s beautiful!”

Looking at my toddlercore Spotify Wrapped, and some of my further listening stats actually paints a much fuller picture of my life than the aesthetic version of the list.

I see Danny Go’s Spooky Spiders Everywhere and think of all the times I drove my Halloween-loving five-year-old off to his new school. I see Squabble Up and think of how after those drop-offs I typically manage to run a few miles at the nearby lake. I see the ridiculous metal covers of pop songs and know that they represent the hunt for entrance music for one of my improv teams. I can’t see Let It Go, without also hearing my two year old’s voice singing along to it. Years ago, I said I was thankful the Frozen craze struck a decade ahead of my time to have kids knowing how incessant that soundtrack was in 2014. My daughter found her way to it anyways, and you know what? It’s actually quite nice.

“I think an extremely toddler core Spotify Wrapped is something to be very proud of,” continues Campbell Walker. “Because, essentially, you have altered the soundtrack of your world to be about them. They are the main character, and damn man, that’s beautiful.”

I see the beauty in that. I see the beauty in the eclectic mix. The one that shows the parts of you that want to dissect Kendrick lyrics is still alive, but it lives alongside the part of you that can nail both parts of Love Is An Open Door by heart.

It’s a banger of a mix.

Counting Countries is Dumb

I know how many countries I’ve been to. Every now and then I recount to make sure my number is up to date. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t.

But I also gotta admit that obsessing over one’s country count is a bit of a vanity statistic and it misses a lot.

The number of countries you’ve been to doesn’t say anything about the depth of connection you had when you were there. It’s possible to take a train through different capitals just for the numbers, but someone who spends time in just one of those countries and goes deeper probably has the richer experience.

Also, some countries are simply way more internally diverse and complex than others. Going from one region of India to another can reintroduce more sudden changes in language, faith, cuisine, and economic status than border hopping several countries in Western Europe.

So, don’t put too much into the number.

But if anyone asks, I’m sitting at 56.

Where All That Time Went

I used to worry a lot about how fast time passes. I absolutely hate that feeling of looking up at the end of the week, the month, the year, and being like… wait, where did it all go?

Sometimes you have your head so deeply buried in things that you’re not sure.

I’ve found that no matter what, time passes, and you end up asking where it all went. BUT it feels better to have a good answer to that question. To have adventures and memories and hang outs and shows and projects and simple nights in and good books and ticket stubs and meals you’ll always remember so you can look up and be like,

Yeah… that’s where it all went. And it was really good.

Ranking my 2024 Destinations

favorite countries from my most well traveled year

A friend of mine has been to 70+ countries, but whenever he’s asked which of them was his favorite, he never gives a straight answer.

“All of them,” he usually chimes.

Okay, sure.

On one hand, I get not wanting to have countries rank low. They’re people’s homes and places they take pride in. BUT… I have a difficult time buying that you don’t have favorites. The idea of a 193-way tie smells a little too political for me.

So, in the interest of swinging in the opposite direction of my dear friend, I’m ranking the top ten countries I’ve visited this year. It was indeed an unusually travel-heavy year for me, and while I might’ve appreciated a slower pace to the string of adventures that comprised 2024, sometimes you just gotta give thanks for the waves that come to you and then ride them.

Anyways… let’s rank some countries.

10) Guyana

An interesting nation at an interesting point in time. If you haven’t seen my explainer video on Guyana’s Oil Boom, the nation is rapidly evolving thanks to the discovery of oil off its coast in 2015. It’s by far the fastest growing economy in the world.

The thing holding Guyana back from a higher ranking is the simple fact that while it has a lot to offer, it isn’t easy to get around. A lot of ecotourism operators were slow to respond, making it hard to plan outings. Georgetown had few areas that you could easily walk around, and many areas where that wouldn’t be a great choice. The cost of hiring a private car to take you places really led to me being stingy with outings.

But as the country continues to evolve, it’ll be interesting to see if that infrastructure emerges in the next few years. If so, the natural wonders of remote Guyana make it a place to keep tabs on.

9) Suriname

The differences between Guyana and Suriname are so subtle, it would be strange if they weren’t adjacent to each other on a list. Their histories run parallel. Colonized by the Dutch and British in similar fashion. The arrival of enslaved persons from Africa, the intermarrying with native tribes, then the arrival of laborers from India.

Both countries have vast swatches of remote forest, incredible biodiversity, and some cool opportunities to explore.

The item that does give Suriname an edge is the fact that it felt a bit more accessible. Paramaribo was walkable in ways Georgetown couldn’t match. Walking around led me to neat cafes, good Surinamese food spots, and even some eco-adventure operators.

8) Estonia

Now for a very different part of the world… Estonia! I spent a somewhat short amount of time there, but it felt like that’s all I needed to have a good time around the city of Tallinn. I really liked the coziness of walking around the city and hopping into different cafes, churches, museums, and shops. A special shoutout to Olde Hansa, a touristy medieval restaurant that really commits to the bit and actually has some good food.

Estonia itself is one of the most livable countries in the world. A small Baltic state with a really high standard of living. Wide access to education, technology, and all kinds of amenities.

There is very little bad to be said about Estonia, only that it isn’t very big. But I liked what I saw.

7) Singapore

Another country that’s geographically on the small side… but Singapore has a lot going on!

Still, I wasn’t necessarily sure how much those things would appeal to me. Shopping malls, luxury hotels, and the forest/waterfall inside the airport.

There was one element of Singapore I did have a lot of faith in, though, and that was the food. From salted egg chips to kaya toast to curry crab… there were plenty of must-try dishes. I decided to make the focus of my visit Singapore’s street food scene, and I even managed to eat a really affordable Michelin star.

Turns out Singapore is a fun spot to explore, especially if you go neighborhood by neighborhood and really appreciate what each has to offer. Oh, and the airport waterfall was actually worth checking out.

6) Laos

In pretty big contrast to Singapore, Laos has a lot more space and feels a lot more quiet and under-the-radar. Laos is a beloved backpacker favorite, and it didn’t really take long to see why. I enjoyed rice farming, waterfall chasing, and really good coffee during my week in Luang Prabang.

Laos is perhaps the most affordable country I’ve been to, and since I was pushing myself pretty hard around the time of my visit, I decided to accept my own permission to splurge a bit. But by Laotian standards. I ate at one of the most hyped restaurants in Luang Prabang and stayed in a really comfy eco-resort on the Mekong.

I’ve been to neighboring Thailand several times, but I appreciated how Laos felt even more laid back.

5) Spain

This feels low! But that’s why it’s such a tough list to make.

Spain is one of my favorite countries hands down. It has an amazing combo of things to love: an extremely relaxed and slow-paced culture, an incredible culinary offering, and an eclectic mix of cities and destinations each with their own personalities.

I visited Spain as a family trip, and the fact that I brought three kids over who are pre-kindergarten must’ve meant I was really confident in the Spanish penchant for easy living.

We posted up in Valencia, in a spot just blocks from the coast. The beach itself ended up to be an impressively uncrowded expanse that opened to the sea, and the area around it was loaded with good restaurants and playgrounds. Valencia was also as kid friendly as it gets with attractions like the Gulliver’s Travels playground and the City of Arts and Sciences being musts.

4) Thailand

Thailand’s always been a fave for both new and veteran travelers and for good reason. It’s got everything… nature, culture, cuisine, all in one easy-to-navigate, still-affordable destination.

This year brought my fourth visit to the Land of Smiles and it was my second time visiting the Plant With Purpose program there to do some storytelling.

Getting to interact with the hilltribes of ethnic minorities, many of whom are refugee families who moved to escape conflict was the highlight of my time there. The abundant rambutan was simply an added bonus.

3) Kenya

I was straight up impressed with what Kenya had to offer.

I showed up just for a short time in country, but with all it had to offer, I’m amazed by how much I was able to experience. I got a taste for its running tradition, found some hip and upcoming spots to eat, and even spent some time with giraffes at the national park that sits within the city.

One of the more unforgettable parts of my Kenya visit was getting to spend an afternoon with former street kids and hear their stories of growing up without parents or stability in a rowdy part of Nairobi. The city still has its rough patches, but it has come a long way, as have many of the kids who grew up there.

I left thinking that Nairobi truly did have so much more to explore. I would welcome a return trip, and wouldn’t mind stretching it out to include another spot to visit like Lamu on the coast.

2) Portugal

Portugal is one of the easiest, most enjoyable places to simply exist.

But we did more than just that during our weeks in Porto, didn’t we?

Our trip to Portugal was my favorite kind of trip… one where I got to bring my whole family, and also invite a couple friends, and split up a large place to serve as our home base. While staying in Porto with our friends Joy and Daniel, we got in a lot of walking around the blue tiled city, got in a bit of the coast, and ate really well. We also managed a visit to an escape room… playing in a language you don’t speak with half of your team not yet having entered Kindergarten is one way to play on expert mode.

My personal favorite spot turned out to be the Porto Municipal Park, where there were plenty of meadows and great spots beneath the trees to just sit and be.

1) Finland

Finland is a great country, first of all. But it lacks the diversity of people and terrain that is typical of the countries I love. So what made it take my number one spot?

Simply enough, the week I spent there was just that good.

I went to Finland on a father-son trip with my oldest… four at the time of the trip. We found good flights into Helsinki, spent some time there, then took a sleeper train into the Arctic Circle. We visited Santa Claus Village, slept in a glass igloo to catch Northern Lights, but most of all, we really loved our time with each other.

I love being at extreme parts of the map, have a pretty good relationship with cold weather, and find the Arctic fascinating. Most of all, though, it was a time to appreciate my oldest kid, just shortly before he started school and kicked off a whole new chapter of childhood.

Here’s hoping you had some good travels in ‘24, and that you’re looking at some good ones in the year ahead.

The Very Far North

Maybe it’s the geography nerd in me, but there’s something that feels cool about being somewhere that’s an extreme point on the map. Either somewhere very far north or south, or especially isolated… I can almost feel a physical perking up of the senses.

Rhys and I made it into the Arctic Circle, on a relatively nice day. I loved being up in the far north of Finland. Like it was a nice resting spot, tucked away from the world to our south caught up in so much drama. Crisp air and untouched snow only added to the effect.

I wish I could come back here easily, again and again, making it like some sort of recurring escape. But part of what makes it special is the inconvenience.

I do hope to make it back to the Arctic though. From Iceland to Canada to Alaska to Finland, these extremely Northern locations have yet to let me down.

The Santa Claus Express

The Santa Claus Express runs from Helsinki to Rovaniemi, Finland in the Arctic Circle.

When I found out that they had sleeper cabins and that the train ran overnight, it became an obvious thing to say yes to- basically merging the cost of traveling across the country with the cost of one night’s accommodation.

The sleeper train was relatively comfortable and the scenes we woke up to are hard to beat.

Highly recommend.

As Far North as I've Ever Been

An adventure into the Arctic Circle

As a self-professed geography nerd, I’ve got to admit, there’s something that feels exhilarating about being at some sort of geographic extreme or anomaly.

Some highlights I’ve experienced so far include:

• Countries that I know are not frequently visited: Suriname, Burundi, Guyana

• Unusually small countries: Vatican City, Eswatini, Liechtenstein

• Countries that are pretty isolated: Iceland, Australia, Zimbabwe
• Unusual meeting points of borders: The Golden Triangle of Laos-Thailand-Myanmar, Iguazu Falls in between Argentina-Paraguay-Brazil, The Four Corners

• Places that are very far north or south: Iceland, Alaska, Chile

Well, I got another one to put on that final list. I recently made it to my northernmost destination thus far… and this one’s not going to be easy to surpass.

So… earlier in the year, I took a father-son trip with my oldest kid, four at the time. We found amazingly priced flights between San Diego and Helsinki, and spent a bit of time there. While I was in search of accommodations for our time there, I discovered that one of our better options would be to spend a night on a sleeper train.

Part of what drew me towards Finland was the way the country is designed to be extremely child-friendly, and the trains equipped with playground and library cars were one of the best examples of that.

With trains already on my mind, I soon came across the Santa Claus Express, a high-speed route between Helsinki and Rovaniemi. The price of an overnight ticket was not too different than most hotels in Finland, but it came with the bonus of waking up in a completely different part of the country.

I splurged on the best sleeper cab I could, which meant it came with its own private bathroom, a big advantage when traveling with a four-year old. We had a cozy night of getting settled into our sleeper bunk beds, and we did our bedtime routine knowing that we would wake up for a new day that would be anything but routine.

When Rhys woke up, he made a direct route to the window without saying a word. By that point, the sun was up and we had entered the northern part of the country. Structures were few and far between, most of what we saw consisted of forest or wide open tundra. Watching Rhys stare out the window at all the snow with a big look of wonder was an instantaneous core memory.

I let him take it in as long as I could… why disrupt a moment like that? But eventually, I had to accommodate all the time it takes to get properly suited up in all the layers and layers of snow gear we brought in anticipation of the Arctic. Rovaniemi officially sits at the rim of the Arctic Circle, so very low temperatures were in order.

When we pulled into Rovaniemi, I immediately got curious about what it would be like to live in such a northern town. Already it was a larger town than I anticipated, complete with a fairly robust downtown area. I spotted a Vietnamese restaurant, as I tend to do wherever I travel, as well as a Burger King and McDonald’s… the most northern locations for both of those franchises.

The main attraction in Rovaniemi was Santa Claus Village. Rovaniemi takes its geography and absolutely runs with it, embracing the North Pole identity at any given opportunity. Their football team, playing in the fourth or fifth tier of the Finnish league, plays as Santa Claus FC.

Initially, I thought Santa Claus Village might be a collection of niche shops and a “Meet Santa” pavilion, but upon visiting, I found that the attraction was closer to a theme park. There were several restaurants on site, ranging from a quaint cafe to a dim sum spot, to a couple high end restaurants. There were reindeer rides and arctic safaris to be booked, and lots of open spaces for snowshoeing. We managed to get a buffet breakfast in one of the hotels at Santa Claus Village, sampling a great variety of Finnish breakfast items.

The whole day felt dedicated to play. How else are you supposed to spend a day at Santa Claus Village? And of course, we went through the extensive gift shop walk all en route to meeting Santa himself.

With our previous night being spent on what was essentially the Polar Express, it seemed like staying anywhere else would be a let down. Except, we managed to book another incredibly unique sleeping experience for that night.

The Arctic Snow Hotel allowed us to stay in a glass igloo, small in size but with a window-paneled roof allowing for uninterrupted views of the Northern Lights… if we should be so lucky. To make sure we didn’t miss our aurora opportunities, the igloo itself was equipped with an aurora alarm- a switch to flip so that if one was overhead, the staff could nudge us awake with a vibrating wall.

Rhys and I spent the evening exploring the site, including its ice cave. The ice cave actually had hotel rooms carved out of ice where one could stay, each with its own unique theme. Ice sculptors had managed to make hotel rooms inspired by graffiti, egypt, or rats, and they were equipped with thick blankets and lighting to make an overnight stay possible, if not totally comfortable. Considering my roommate was four years old, I think I made the right decision in simply opting for the cozier igloos.

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This hotel was actually well equipped with all sorts of amenities. There were a couple of bars and nicer restaurants. A large snow pit area led to an open field for sledding, tobogganing, and other kinds of play. A reindeer who lived on site was available for petting and feeding. And there was a sauna, which goes without saying. This was Finland after all.

After a whole day of trains, Santa Claus, and snow play, Rhys was ready for a really satisfying night’s sleep. And we would get that in our igloo. At least for a couple of hours, until the aurora alarm went off.

Juni Turns 3

Three years into being a twin dad! Give it up for J-Sweet.

I had my hunches really early on that your sense of humor would be smart and sharp and through the roof, and every day you keep proving me right.

I love seeing you hold your own while playing with your brothers. I love that your style of playing dress up is every tutu at once, to become the Everything Fairy. I love our field trips to get ice cream at the farmers market and I absolutely love riffing and coming up with songs with you.

Happy birthday, Juni. Love that you’re my girl.

Kai Turns 3

When I wake up in the morning, I’ll be a dad to three year old twins. My world since November 2021 has simultaneously been fast and slow, chaotic and tender, so let me start it off with the first of two birthday tributes to Mr. Older-by-a-Minute…

Kai Dot Guy.

Nobody walks the line between chaos muppet and adorable teddy bear as quickly as you, and so one of my strongest memories of your third year will probably be of you wreaking havoc on a ramen shop in Portugal, then very softly and sweetly saying “bye noodles” as you walk out like nothing happened. As your dad, I’m required to soften the edges, but you know I dig that style.

I love how cuddly and affectionate you are. I mean it when I tell you that you’re a delight, and I’m glad you believe me enough to reply, “yeah, I’m a delight.” I love that you somehow have even more dad vibes than me, and live life like Jimmy Buffet in toddler reincarnation. Also, as much as I tell you not to throw things in the house, you’ve got quite the arm, ace.

Basically the Polar Express

The train from Helsinki to Rovaniemi, inside Finland’s slice of the Arctic Circle, is basically the Polar Express, minus the creepy, uncanny valley animations.

The cost of a sleeper car for two is not too far off from a nicer hotel room. I thought of it as a replacement cost for one night of accommodation with a really sweet transportation bonus. Plus, it’s a Finnish train, so you know, it’ll have a cafe, a playground car, and all that.

We woke up in Northern Finland, with snow covering everything outside. It was one of my best transportation experiences and sleeping experiences of the year, all rolled into one. Such a worthwhile ticket.

Tracy

Tracy, who I met in Guyana, is actually from North Carolina. She had a kid and raised him in Dominica, and after he grew up she and her husband moved to Guyana to open up a vineyard.

Guyana’s infrastructure is playing catch up with its growth, but back when they moved it was even further behind. They worked together to establish a cafe, lodges, and a home all around a private vineyard by the Essequibo River.

Her husband passed away a couple years ago, but she decided to carry on the dream. The vineyard gets regular visitors, many of whom stay in the cabins overnight. A hidden eco-retreat in Guyana.

She told me her story, interspersed with mystic interpretations and explanations of things that had happened. She told me my energy ran parallel to the bison, a creature many tribes identify with generosity and abundance. The plains-dweller typically makes little effort to evade hunters, enabling them to use the vast amounts of resources from its large body. Flattering interpretation, though I might put in some effort to escape some hunters, personally.

She then asked about my spice tolerance before preparing me a blackened cod with salsa and avocado, a precursor to the eventual rounds of wine she’d bring out.

Esperance & the Gift of Storytelling

Genuine storytelling takes a moment of connection

A few years ago I remember pitching a storytelling project to a former colleague. Someone with a lot of international development experience.

“How do we make sure we aren’t just parachuting in, videotaping people in a village, and leaving?” she asked. “I always worry that these projects will be extractive.”

I decided that pointing out how my budgets have barely had room for post production, let alone parachutes, was not actually a comforting response. The reality was that I shared her concern. So I shared my own confrontation with that struggle.

In the world of international development, where I work, stories have a lot of power to open eyes, and to put it plainly, pocketbooks. And while there’s nothing wrong with pairing the art of storytelling with the value of fundraising, problems emerge when we start seeing the stories simply as resources, losing sight of the human beings behind them.

The image my friend described, minus the parachutes, is a very real scenario.

Extractive storytelling. A blitz of cameras and tripods and lapel mics. Several takes of an interview, and then they’re gone.

Another colleague with decades of experience tells me how he’s seen too many examples of villages preparing feasts for filmmakers only to be disappointed by a team that obsessively tinkers with their gear, shows little interest in the welcome ceremony, and makes a quick exit to stay on schedule.

Sounds like an embarrassing endeavor to be a part of.

I’ve been working as a climate storyteller for close to a decade, and I truly love the work. The people that I get to meet is the best reward for chasing down stories around the globe. Over the years, the ethical storytelling has asserted itself as a top priority. 

Once you start becoming aware of how storytelling can have a negative impact on a community despite good intentions, you start to become pretty mindful of your actions. And there’s nothing like a couple cringey stories to give that motivation an extra boost.

I know that in my experience, I haven’t been perfect. But still know that the idea of treating somebody’s story like a “good to procure” without actually spending time with the person on a human-to-human level is wrong. Wrong, but common.

And so I started asking myself what can we do in order to avoid this.

On the bulk of my storytelling trips, I play the role of director and conduct most interviews, while a film crew, typically one that is locally based, manages the equipment, set up, and recording. I’ve found that the time that it takes to get all that set up is often an opportune time for me to build rapport with the people I’m filming.

This has looked like everything from joking with a Mexican farmer about Taco Bell, to tasting an Ethiopian family’s home-brew. In Burundi, it meant learning a dozen words in the locally-spoken Kirundi, and using them to endear myself to the group I was about to interview.

Obviously, twelve words in a narrowly-spoken language wasn’t going to get me very far. But, I treated the encounter like some sort of improv game where I had to make up for a lack of vocabulary with physicality and intonation. And apparently, that worked. We actually found ourselves joking together, and laughing, and by the time I got around to interviewing Esperance, an amputee after the country’s civil war who moved back home to rebuild, she shared her life’s story with openness and tenderness.

This particular visit to Burundi was over two years ago. Last month, a colleague of mine managed to visit Burundi in a very different capacity, but he managed to run into Esperance and recognized her from the videos we produced.

“You know the first thing she said to me?”

“What was it?”

“Where’s Philippe?”

Hearing that moved me more than I was expecting to. Esperance remembered that day. I had too, of course. But something about knowing that an encounter left an impression that lingered on for both parties two years after the fact seemed significant.

It was a reminder that the work of storytelling is a gift. It’s a privilege that I get to have this as my day job, but its also a huge act of generosity on the part of my many featured subjects to share their life experiences with me.

Being able to retell your journey gives you a greater chance to own it. And the days you do so in front of a camera, knowing that it will be shared broadly, into countries you’ll never set foot in must be something.

I’m quite lucky in that my storytelling trips are once-in-a-lifetime experiences that I get to partake in every year. But I don’t want my fortune around that frequency to obscure the fact that for the people I talk to, this is a big deal. I don’t want the repetition to remove any of the reverence around a person’s story as they’re telling it.

My memories of Esperance are a reminder that stories shared with generosity and vulnerability need to be received with respect and good stewardship. That means putting care into crafting the video, the article, or whatever the finished product ends up being. That means making sure the story is presented to an audience in a way where they can receive it well. And that means not treating the visit like a one-and-done transaction.

At the heart of ethical storytelling is connection. Making the world a little smaller, and bringing an audience on one side of the planet in closer to a human being on the other side. It means finding the elements of humanity that can pierce through language barriers and unfamiliar settings.

You can’t possibly expect to accomplish any of that if you yourself aren’t making an effort at a real connection in the moment.

A world of thanks to Esperance for the reminder of how much that matters.