My latest adventure was called the "Ship Breaking Yard Atelier" weekend in Bangladesh; where we flew in to Chattogram, formerly called Chittagong, to see how ships are repaired and decommissioned, visit a garment factory, peruse the fish market, walk along the train tracks into the slum areas, and understand how salt is processed from the sea to delivery. People don't enjoy salt. They enjoy what is salted. We are the salt of the Earth. We do not exist for ourselves. - John P

I joined other travellers to explore the Gorno-Badakhshan Autonomous Province in Tajikistan where we made human connections across a border.

If we can see ourselves in the happiness we bring other people, we must be so richly blessed, just like the completely saturated golden hour

I don't often take photos of people when I travel, but a small instant camera created a meaningful way to make people feel seen.

Unexpected and rather last minute trips to Russia and Nepal this summer were eye-opening and thought-provoking journeys into my own still-short sighted understanding of these places in the world. In Nepal, I was challenged to discover and learn more about completely different religious backgrounds and admire fascinating architecture in Kathmandu and Pokhara – while admiring the God-sized architecture found in the Himalayan Mountains. In this blog, I invite your to join me on

This isn’t how it was supposed to be – my life, that is. I was meant to follow the example of generations before me: Grow up in my homogenous “safe” community, earn good grades in school, make friends, play outside, and graduate from high school. Then I would dash off to a reputable university to obtain a degree—and that coveted Mrs. degree with the man of my dreams. Then, I would settle down in my small safe hometown and push the refresh and repeat button for my own child.

Beyond the tour, the people posturing for perfect photography, and the nagging desire to constantly tug a shayla (headscarf) tight around my face, it remains impossible to miss the calm and worshipful atmosphere at Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque. Like floating through a manic airport or hearing my footsteps in my empty high school gymnasium, this modern architectural wonder emboldens me to remember how small my individual physical frame is within the the vast gentle grandeur of th

Caviar. A margin more intimidating than wine, but less terrifying than figuring out what's behind foie gras' buttery flavour (it's fattened duck or goose liver), I had indulged in caviar only once or twice before - completely ignorant of the fine art of tasting the delicacy. In fact, I only have a vague recollection that I didn't not like it. Upon invitation to Emirates Palace for a caviar masterclass, my immediate inclination was to relish the opportunity to learn something