Yesterday morning I woke up early (again) and caught a 7am bus from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh. Based on my recent experience on the Cambodian roads, I feared the worst. But the ride was surprisingly smooth and comfortable in the big air-conditioned bus—despite the low-budget melodramatic kung fu movie with nonsensical English subtitles that was played over and over again during the 6-hour ride.
I arrived in the Cambodian capital with the entire afternoon in front of me. Thanks to the recommendations of former Fellow Julia Geggenheimer who had a placement here last year, I had a lovely luncheon at a pretty riverside café and then embarked on some sightseeing. I sped through the sights in town and decided, after some initial hesitation, to head out to the Killing Fields. The Choeung Ek memorial is built on the grounds of the mass graves of Tuol Sleng prison, where tens of thousands of political prisoners and other innocent people were tortured and killed under the Khmer Rouge in the 1970s.
This memorial site was somber and grand and the air of solemnity and serenity struck me. In the center of the grounds stands a tall glass-sided Buddhist stupa in which thousands of skulls, found during the excavation of the mass graves in the area, are neatly stacked. Surrounding the memorial stupa are offerings of flowers and incense. As I examined the tower and walked around the grounds, my initial thought was that the Killing Fields felt sterile—too tidy and too pretty to truly commemorate this place of suffering and death.
My mind naturally drifted back to Rwanda and the genocide sites I visited there, the churches where thousands of Rwandans sought refuge but were instead mercilessly butchered. Those churches smelled like death. They were dusty and still scattered with bones and some personal belongings of the victims: scraps of clothing, torn books, broken rosaries, deserted stuffed toys… You could almost taste the tears and hear the lingering screams. In Rwanda, innocent women and children were slaughtered like animals and their bodies were left to rot in piles of mutilated corpses. It is impossible to walk around those sites and not imagine the horror of what happened there.
In Cambodia, the process of the 4-year genocide was different. The Khmer Rouge indoctrinated, enslaved, and slowly starved the population. Cambodians who questioned or rebelled against Pol Pot or had the misfortune of being privileged or educated were summarily executed. But the regime had the time and the necessity to bury their victims in mass graves. They cleaned up after themselves. And 30 years later, it was easy to walk around this well tended to memorial site and nearly forget the reality of the horrors that occurred in this place. But the families and loved ones of the millions Cambodians who were killed in the genocide will not forget and, although my brief trip to Cambodia ends tonight, neither will I.
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Exciting news!
After a second long day on the Cambodian tourist track, I relaxed yesterday evening by taking in a traditional show. The Cambodian dancers moved slowly and gracefully in their elaborate brightly colored costumes. I sat in awe as I watched them arch their limbs and curve their hands and fingers back at impossible angles.
When I returned to the hotel and checked my email, I received some very exciting news: I was accepted into several of the graduate programs to which I applied. I stared at the screen in total shock and actually got a little 'verklempt' out of happiness—only the second time in my life that I’ve cried out of happiness, the first being when I found out I had been accepted to the Insight Fellowship program. I called my family to tell them the good news, but could not get through. It all felt very surreal and anti-climatic: I was sitting in a little hotel in Siem Reap, Cambodia and just got some amazing news that I couldn’t share or celebrate with anyone. I was reminded of my distance from my family and at the same time so excited because now I know that I’ll be closer to home for the next couple of years.
Anyway, I've decided to go with my original top choice, a dual degree Masters in International Affairs program run between Sciences Po and Columbia University. This means that starting in September, I won't be globetrotting as much for the next two years as I'll be settled first for a year in Paris and then for a year back in NYC. I believe the program is perfectly suited not only to my transatlantic bicultural background but also to my professional and academic interests as it will allow me to focus on international security and diplomacy. I am excited about the academic opportunities the program has to offer, as well as the chance to spend the next couple of years closer to home and family.
When I returned to the hotel and checked my email, I received some very exciting news: I was accepted into several of the graduate programs to which I applied. I stared at the screen in total shock and actually got a little 'verklempt' out of happiness—only the second time in my life that I’ve cried out of happiness, the first being when I found out I had been accepted to the Insight Fellowship program. I called my family to tell them the good news, but could not get through. It all felt very surreal and anti-climatic: I was sitting in a little hotel in Siem Reap, Cambodia and just got some amazing news that I couldn’t share or celebrate with anyone. I was reminded of my distance from my family and at the same time so excited because now I know that I’ll be closer to home for the next couple of years.
Anyway, I've decided to go with my original top choice, a dual degree Masters in International Affairs program run between Sciences Po and Columbia University. This means that starting in September, I won't be globetrotting as much for the next two years as I'll be settled first for a year in Paris and then for a year back in NYC. I believe the program is perfectly suited not only to my transatlantic bicultural background but also to my professional and academic interests as it will allow me to focus on international security and diplomacy. I am excited about the academic opportunities the program has to offer, as well as the chance to spend the next couple of years closer to home and family.
Sunday, March 09, 2008
First light at Angkor
This morning I was up at the crack of dawn for the second day in a row—a habit I don’t want to get into. This time, I wasn’t rising to catch a bus, but to make it to Angkor Wat for the sunrise.
The morning was still, dark, and cool. The drone of my tuk tuk engine was the only sound. I stopped at the ticket office to buy my pass for the day and then was deposited in front of Angkor Wat—not that I could see a lick of the historic temple in the pitch black. Thankfully, as a seasoned traveler, I was smart enough to bring a flashlight, so I didn’t stumble along blindly through the darkness alongside the other groggy tourists.
I found a secluded spot just off to the side of the main entranceway and settled onto some cool stone steps to watch the sunrise.
The morning sun gradually warmed the sky and, still hidden just below the horizon, silhouetted Angkor in a halo of bright pinks and oranges. As it slowly brightened, the early light streaked blue and eventually yellow as the sun crept little by little over the stonewalls of ancient temple. I felt serene and happy as I was bathed in the cool morning sunshine. And despite the early wake-up, I was fully energized for my full day tour of the immense and striking complex of temples.
(Photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2040118&l=fee5c&id=5902101)
The morning was still, dark, and cool. The drone of my tuk tuk engine was the only sound. I stopped at the ticket office to buy my pass for the day and then was deposited in front of Angkor Wat—not that I could see a lick of the historic temple in the pitch black. Thankfully, as a seasoned traveler, I was smart enough to bring a flashlight, so I didn’t stumble along blindly through the darkness alongside the other groggy tourists.
I found a secluded spot just off to the side of the main entranceway and settled onto some cool stone steps to watch the sunrise.
The morning sun gradually warmed the sky and, still hidden just below the horizon, silhouetted Angkor in a halo of bright pinks and oranges. As it slowly brightened, the early light streaked blue and eventually yellow as the sun crept little by little over the stonewalls of ancient temple. I felt serene and happy as I was bathed in the cool morning sunshine. And despite the early wake-up, I was fully energized for my full day tour of the immense and striking complex of temples.
(Photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2040118&l=fee5c&id=5902101)
Saturday, March 08, 2008
Overland adventure
I realized a few days ago that I am halfway through my placement in Thailand: six weeks down, six more to go. At this halfway point, I examined what I’d accomplished thus far and what remained of the things I wanted to do with my time here. Two of my priorities. to do an overland border crossing in Asia and to visit the temples at Angkor in Cambodia, fit together perfectly. I looked at my calendar and realized that I was also due to leave Thailand in the next 10 days so as to not overstay my 30-day tourist visa. I decided that it was either this weekend or never, and so, after a couple of days of research and last minute planning, I write this entry from Cambodia.
I got up at the crack of dawn this morning. The birds and monks were barely stirring as I jumped in a taxi, crossed the city, and caught the 6am bus to the border town of Aranyaprathet. I slept during the smooth 4 1/2 hour bus ride and got to the Thai/Cambodia border crossing feeling surprisingly fresh. Leaving Thailand was straightforward enough: I just filled out my departure form and got my passport stamped. Entering Cambodia was slightly trickier as the immigration officer insisted I pay 1000 baht (~$30) for my tourist visa despite the large sign above his head that read “Tourist Visa: 20 US Dollars.” All of his border guard buddies were just as corrupt and my attempt to negotiate was shot down pretty quickly. Powerless and frustrated by my inability to communicate (how do you say, “it’s corrupt assholes like you who abuse power and take advantage of foreigners that are bringing down the reputation of this country and limiting the development of tourism and foreign investment” in Khmer?), I paid for the overpriced visa and was immediately accosted by a half-dozen touts trying to convince me to take their taxi. It took a while to shake them off and I eventually successfully managed to secure a ride at a reasonably fair price. After a somewhat fitful border crossing, I was on my way to Siem Reap, the town next to the Angkor temples.
My belief that the border crossing would be the most laborious part of this trip was soon proved false. Unlike the smooth highway from Bangkok to Aranyaprathet, the road from Poipet, the Cambodian border town, to Siem Reap was a chaotic mess. Rickety buses and overloaded pick-ups and motorbikes jostled along in a deadly game of slip’n’slide on the slick muddy track. Mud and filth splashed on the taxi’s cracked windscreen, further restricting the already limited visibility.
At one point, traffic slowed to a halt. A truck had overturned, sending merchandise sloshing through the mud and blocking the passage. My deft driver saw a detour and soon we were speeding along a parallel road through a quiet village. I gazed out of the window soaking in the Cambodian countryside as it streaked by, counting the long-horned white cattle and watching children run and play along the road. All of a sudden, *THWACK!* Oh Jesus, we’ve hit a child. But then a poof of feathers. Thank god, it was just a chicken. And we speed on, without stopping to inspect the damage or apologize to the poor farmer whose chicken we just flattened. A fatal poultry hit and run.
Finally, after several other near-death moments during the 4-hour /150km drive, I arrived in one tense and mildly traumatized piece in front of my little bed and breakfast in Siem Reap. I checked into my $6/night room and immediately passed out for a nap to recover from my adventurous overland Asian border crossing.
I got up at the crack of dawn this morning. The birds and monks were barely stirring as I jumped in a taxi, crossed the city, and caught the 6am bus to the border town of Aranyaprathet. I slept during the smooth 4 1/2 hour bus ride and got to the Thai/Cambodia border crossing feeling surprisingly fresh. Leaving Thailand was straightforward enough: I just filled out my departure form and got my passport stamped. Entering Cambodia was slightly trickier as the immigration officer insisted I pay 1000 baht (~$30) for my tourist visa despite the large sign above his head that read “Tourist Visa: 20 US Dollars.” All of his border guard buddies were just as corrupt and my attempt to negotiate was shot down pretty quickly. Powerless and frustrated by my inability to communicate (how do you say, “it’s corrupt assholes like you who abuse power and take advantage of foreigners that are bringing down the reputation of this country and limiting the development of tourism and foreign investment” in Khmer?), I paid for the overpriced visa and was immediately accosted by a half-dozen touts trying to convince me to take their taxi. It took a while to shake them off and I eventually successfully managed to secure a ride at a reasonably fair price. After a somewhat fitful border crossing, I was on my way to Siem Reap, the town next to the Angkor temples.
My belief that the border crossing would be the most laborious part of this trip was soon proved false. Unlike the smooth highway from Bangkok to Aranyaprathet, the road from Poipet, the Cambodian border town, to Siem Reap was a chaotic mess. Rickety buses and overloaded pick-ups and motorbikes jostled along in a deadly game of slip’n’slide on the slick muddy track. Mud and filth splashed on the taxi’s cracked windscreen, further restricting the already limited visibility.
At one point, traffic slowed to a halt. A truck had overturned, sending merchandise sloshing through the mud and blocking the passage. My deft driver saw a detour and soon we were speeding along a parallel road through a quiet village. I gazed out of the window soaking in the Cambodian countryside as it streaked by, counting the long-horned white cattle and watching children run and play along the road. All of a sudden, *THWACK!* Oh Jesus, we’ve hit a child. But then a poof of feathers. Thank god, it was just a chicken. And we speed on, without stopping to inspect the damage or apologize to the poor farmer whose chicken we just flattened. A fatal poultry hit and run.
Finally, after several other near-death moments during the 4-hour /150km drive, I arrived in one tense and mildly traumatized piece in front of my little bed and breakfast in Siem Reap. I checked into my $6/night room and immediately passed out for a nap to recover from my adventurous overland Asian border crossing.
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Iron Chef: Bangkok
I decided long before arriving in Thailand that I was going to take a Thai cooking class. I wanted to learn the basics of Thai cuisine not only because I love Thai food, but also because the cuisine is so important in Thai culture. Thus, the course which I have joined focuses not only on the preparation of the dishes but also on the individual ingredients that make Thai cuisine so unique and popular around the world. The reason I chose this particular class is that the chef accompanies us to the local market in the morning and walks around explaining what all the exotic fruits, vegetables, and unidentifiable gelatinous substances are. After just one class, I now know what galanga is (a root in the ginger family). I know the difference between Indian and Thai curries (the former is made from dry spices, the latter is based on a curry paste made from fresh ingredients). I know that there are dozens of types of eggplant, some as small as peas. And, most importantly for my palate, I know the different varieties of those hot chilies that give Thai cuisine its spicy kick.
As my degree of fluency with these new ingredients has already increased exponentially, I plan on spending a lot more time wandering around my local market, soaking up the tastes, smells, and atmosphere. I hope that this newfound knowledge about Thai cuisine will translate into a better understanding of Thai culture and daily life.
As my degree of fluency with these new ingredients has already increased exponentially, I plan on spending a lot more time wandering around my local market, soaking up the tastes, smells, and atmosphere. I hope that this newfound knowledge about Thai cuisine will translate into a better understanding of Thai culture and daily life.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Back in BKK
Despite the long commute in hellish smoggy Bangkok traffic, I was happy to get back out to Mahidol’s leafy suburban campus this week. After a couple of weeks away teaching in Chiang Mai and traveling in Viet Nam, it’s nice to resume my routine and get back to work in my so-overly-air-conditioned-it-feels-like-a-meat-locker office. My very friendly colleagues welcomed me back and were inquisitive about my trips outside the city.
The office was, as usual well-stocked with fresh fruit and cloyingly sweet Thai snacks that they insist I taste. It also seems that a new trend has developed in the office: my officemates have taken to blasting Thai pop music in the afternoons and occasionally singing along. While charming and kind of funny at first, it’s now just an annoying distraction… But I'm not allowed to complain about the office because thanks to their networks and contacts, I've managed to get involved in some really interesting projects during my time here. In fact, I’m already planning another trip back up to Chiang Mai to meet with more Burmese pro-democracy leaders and organizations.
The office was, as usual well-stocked with fresh fruit and cloyingly sweet Thai snacks that they insist I taste. It also seems that a new trend has developed in the office: my officemates have taken to blasting Thai pop music in the afternoons and occasionally singing along. While charming and kind of funny at first, it’s now just an annoying distraction… But I'm not allowed to complain about the office because thanks to their networks and contacts, I've managed to get involved in some really interesting projects during my time here. In fact, I’m already planning another trip back up to Chiang Mai to meet with more Burmese pro-democracy leaders and organizations.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Happy birthday to me!
Thinking back over where I’ve spent my past birthdays, I don’t think I ever could have predicted where I am today: on a junk in Ha Long Bay in Viet Nam.
As a birthday gift, my mother came out to Asia to take me on a special trip to Viet Nam. I’ve been looking forward this for weeks, and especially since I was so drained from teaching the workshop, I really needed this mini-vacation. As a funny coincidence, I realized that former Fellow JG was here with her mother at exactly the same time last year… But unlike Julia, I have no personal connection or family history tied to this country and my mother and I have been discovering it for the first time together.
We started the trip in Ho Chi Minh City, still commonly referred to as Saigon. The city was reminiscent of Bangkok in its heat and chaotic motorcycle traffic, but Saigon is far less developed and thus much more pleasant. The architecture maintains the elegant French-colonial flavor and the large boulevards and city squares are lined with stately trees. After a city tour, we drove out to the Mekong Delta and spent a lazy afternoon observing the traffic on this massive commercial river and floating along some of its small tributaries.
Moving up North, we visited the capital Hanoi, the grey capital city perched on the banks of the Red River. Hanoi felt cleaner and more cosmopolitan than Saigon, and it seamlessly blends its various Vietnamese, European, and Chinese influences—though I suspect that I may just have liked it better because its cooler climate is a refreshing change from the Southern heat and humidity.
And today I sit on the deck of a junk, floating between the striking karsts of Ha Long Bay. At this time of year, there aren’t many tourists. The bay is misty and calm, not quite serene, bordering on haunting… Certainly a unique and unusual place to celebrate my 24th birthday…
As a birthday gift, my mother came out to Asia to take me on a special trip to Viet Nam. I’ve been looking forward this for weeks, and especially since I was so drained from teaching the workshop, I really needed this mini-vacation. As a funny coincidence, I realized that former Fellow JG was here with her mother at exactly the same time last year… But unlike Julia, I have no personal connection or family history tied to this country and my mother and I have been discovering it for the first time together.
We started the trip in Ho Chi Minh City, still commonly referred to as Saigon. The city was reminiscent of Bangkok in its heat and chaotic motorcycle traffic, but Saigon is far less developed and thus much more pleasant. The architecture maintains the elegant French-colonial flavor and the large boulevards and city squares are lined with stately trees. After a city tour, we drove out to the Mekong Delta and spent a lazy afternoon observing the traffic on this massive commercial river and floating along some of its small tributaries.
Moving up North, we visited the capital Hanoi, the grey capital city perched on the banks of the Red River. Hanoi felt cleaner and more cosmopolitan than Saigon, and it seamlessly blends its various Vietnamese, European, and Chinese influences—though I suspect that I may just have liked it better because its cooler climate is a refreshing change from the Southern heat and humidity.
And today I sit on the deck of a junk, floating between the striking karsts of Ha Long Bay. At this time of year, there aren’t many tourists. The bay is misty and calm, not quite serene, bordering on haunting… Certainly a unique and unusual place to celebrate my 24th birthday…
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Wrapping up
As I wrapped up the 3-day workshop, I couldn’t help but get a little emotional. I was moved by the students’ kindness, warmth, humor, and humility. They are doing such remarkable work but they demonstrated a lot of respect for me, calling me “Teacher,” giving me a special seat at the lunch table, and insisting on making my coffee and washing my dishes for me despite my protests. In addition, my apprehension of facing a shy and non-participatory stereotypical group of Asian students was not realized. They was incredibly eager to learn, always had lots of questions, and actually asked for homework assignments! These Burmese students are every teacher’s dream! Unfortunately now I don’t think I’ll ever be able to enjoy teaching anywhere else…
This week, I had one of the most fulfilling (and exhausting!) professional experiences of my life. These young Burmese activists (actually, I shouldn't call them young since we're about the same age) are so eager to learn and are so passionate about their cause. Many are in Thailand illegally, risking their personal security and sacrificing their freedom and contact with their families, to develop their skills and knowledge so they can go back into Burma and work towards bringing about a peaceful transition to democracy. It was hard not to leave the school feeling inspired. It was an absolute privilege for me to meet and work with these young activists and I hope to stay involved with this work and their cause even once the Fellowship year is over.
This week, I had one of the most fulfilling (and exhausting!) professional experiences of my life. These young Burmese activists (actually, I shouldn't call them young since we're about the same age) are so eager to learn and are so passionate about their cause. Many are in Thailand illegally, risking their personal security and sacrificing their freedom and contact with their families, to develop their skills and knowledge so they can go back into Burma and work towards bringing about a peaceful transition to democracy. It was hard not to leave the school feeling inspired. It was an absolute privilege for me to meet and work with these young activists and I hope to stay involved with this work and their cause even once the Fellowship year is over.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Workshop day 1
This morning I was picked up from my little hotel and brought to the school, which is in a secret location. This is only one of several security measures that the organization puts in place to protect the students from both Thai authorities (many are in Thailand illegally) and from Burmese government intelligence which is eager to undermine all the pro-democracy groups. For this reason, I can’t write in detail about the school or the organization or publish photos where students are identifiable.
I was at first concerned about how I would be perceived as an outsider penetrating this secure location, but the students greeted me very warmly when I arrived at the school and they served me a delicious breakfast of Burmese noodles. When I consulted with former Fellow Julia Geggenheimer about this workshop, she said that her biggest challenge in facilitating a multi-day workshop by herself in Cambodia last year was maintaining energy and stamina, so I also guzzled about 3 cups of coffee to prepare for the long day ahead. Despite these precautions, I definitely felt my energy waning by the end of the day of teaching. We went over a lot, but we covered less material than I had planned, but my planning is loose and flexible as I’m trying to make this their workshop and their process. And even though I’m completely exhausted at the end of this long day, I’m also strangely energized and I eagerly looking forward to the days ahead
I was at first concerned about how I would be perceived as an outsider penetrating this secure location, but the students greeted me very warmly when I arrived at the school and they served me a delicious breakfast of Burmese noodles. When I consulted with former Fellow Julia Geggenheimer about this workshop, she said that her biggest challenge in facilitating a multi-day workshop by herself in Cambodia last year was maintaining energy and stamina, so I also guzzled about 3 cups of coffee to prepare for the long day ahead. Despite these precautions, I definitely felt my energy waning by the end of the day of teaching. We went over a lot, but we covered less material than I had planned, but my planning is loose and flexible as I’m trying to make this their workshop and their process. And even though I’m completely exhausted at the end of this long day, I’m also strangely energized and I eagerly looking forward to the days ahead
Supporting the Saffron Revolution
Last week I received an email from a Thailand-based international NGO that works on human rights and environmental issues, asking me if I was available to come teach a workshop on conflict transformation. Naturally I jumped on the chance.
What is particularly exciting about this opportunity is its timeliness and potential impact on actual world events. In Burma last summer and fall, there was an upsurge in anti-government protests, known as the Saffron Revolution because of the leadership of the saffron-robed Buddhist monks. While the participation of the monks in the 2007 protests was important, the most active and historically significant part of the Burmese pro-democracy movement is the youth and student groups. Most of these pro-democracy organizations operate in exile in Thailand due to the repressive nature of the Burmese military regime, known as the State Peace and Development Council. (The junta surprisingly has little to no humor regarding the obvious irony of their nomenclature.) Several other organizations have been created to support these Burmese youth activists through education and training and it is one of these organizations that invited me up to teach the workshop. They run a program for young activists from the marginalized ethnic minorities in Burma. Now in its 8th year, what started as a small experimental project has evolved into a yearlong comprehensive program that trains these young activists in subjects ranging from minority and women’s rights, to English and creative writing, to documentation and research skills, to conflict transformation—which is what I will be teaching starting tomorrow.
Indeed, I now find myself in Chiang Mai preparing for the first day of the workshop tomorrow. The invitation was given in “Asian time,” which, as I’ve been told, means ‘at the very last minute.’ They also sent along their proposed curriculum in “Asian time,” meaning I only had a couple of days to review the curriculum, alter it at my discretion, and prepare for the 3-day workshop. I felt like I was almost too prepared for the workshop I taught in Lebanon so this will be the opposite experience. But luckily for me, I actually prefer to not overly prepare and let this type of program unfold organically according to the group’s needs and interests.
While I am a little concerned about having to fill 3 days all by myself, the curriculum they suggested is quite comprehensive and I can complement it with some of the Insight tools and exercises. More than anything though, I’m just excited to be heading back into the classroom and to have to opportunity to work with this special group.
What is particularly exciting about this opportunity is its timeliness and potential impact on actual world events. In Burma last summer and fall, there was an upsurge in anti-government protests, known as the Saffron Revolution because of the leadership of the saffron-robed Buddhist monks. While the participation of the monks in the 2007 protests was important, the most active and historically significant part of the Burmese pro-democracy movement is the youth and student groups. Most of these pro-democracy organizations operate in exile in Thailand due to the repressive nature of the Burmese military regime, known as the State Peace and Development Council. (The junta surprisingly has little to no humor regarding the obvious irony of their nomenclature.) Several other organizations have been created to support these Burmese youth activists through education and training and it is one of these organizations that invited me up to teach the workshop. They run a program for young activists from the marginalized ethnic minorities in Burma. Now in its 8th year, what started as a small experimental project has evolved into a yearlong comprehensive program that trains these young activists in subjects ranging from minority and women’s rights, to English and creative writing, to documentation and research skills, to conflict transformation—which is what I will be teaching starting tomorrow.
Indeed, I now find myself in Chiang Mai preparing for the first day of the workshop tomorrow. The invitation was given in “Asian time,” which, as I’ve been told, means ‘at the very last minute.’ They also sent along their proposed curriculum in “Asian time,” meaning I only had a couple of days to review the curriculum, alter it at my discretion, and prepare for the 3-day workshop. I felt like I was almost too prepared for the workshop I taught in Lebanon so this will be the opposite experience. But luckily for me, I actually prefer to not overly prepare and let this type of program unfold organically according to the group’s needs and interests.
While I am a little concerned about having to fill 3 days all by myself, the curriculum they suggested is quite comprehensive and I can complement it with some of the Insight tools and exercises. More than anything though, I’m just excited to be heading back into the classroom and to have to opportunity to work with this special group.
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