Leave No Trace

Leave No Trace

Dawn is breaking over the New Forest in southern England; we step lightly through the serene landscape, wanting to leave no trace of our having passed this way. It’s July, a warm morning with mist swirling in the rays of the rising sun, cuckoos calling, and spiderwebs glittering in dewdrop diamonds. As I walk with my companion, there’s a movement across the clearing and a small herd of red deer emerges from the trees. Treading as quietly as we can, we creep along the path, but a sudden ‘CRUNCH!’ rings out like a gunshot and startles us all, human and deer alike; the herd bounds out of sight, melting back into the woods.

Did I step on a sneaky twig hidden in the leaves underfoot? Looking down, instead I see a plastic soft drink bottle nestled in the undergrowth beneath my hiking boot. In otherwise pristine natural environments, reminders of humans’ unfortunate tendency to leave their mark on the world — with what they carelessly leave behind — are all too frequent.

The potential to do harm to our surroundings first gained attention in the United States in the 1960s and 1970s, as outdoor recreation rose in popularity when camping gear became easier to use and cheaper to obtain. Combined with a commercial interest in the activity as a moneymaking proposition, between 1950 and 1970 there was a five-fold increase in visitors to US National Parks. Though this new infatuation with the great outdoors came with benefits — spurring newfound enthusiasm for nature and wildlife — it also caused concern that the wilderness might well be loved to death if we weren’t careful.

Regulations were imposed to manage the use of wild areas and address overcrowding and ecological damage. But a backlash against this, with an outcry that rules removed the spontaneity from outdoor recreation and dampened its joy, inspired a shift to education as a tactic. The National Park Service, United States Forest Service, and the Bureau of Land Management teamed up to train Wilderness Informational Specialists who in turn taught visitors about minimal-impact camping. In 1987 a pamphlet titled ‘Leave “No Trace” Land Ethics’ was published by the agencies, and ‘if you pack it in, you have to pack it out’ became outdoorspeople’s words to live by.

Minimum-impact camping techniques were embraced by organisations from the Sierra Club to the Boy Scouts, while outdoor companies got on board, promoting these ethics to consumers by giving conservation a commercial stamp of approval. Through the 1990s, Leave No Trace principles were refined and condensed; from an original 75 principles, by 1999 the list was finalised to seven; and it’s remained unchanged since. The success of the programme and the growing need for worldwide awareness has seen it go global with Leave No Trace organizations including Canada, Ireland, Japan and New Zealand.

Leave no trace

In the words of the Leave No Trace Center for Outdoor Ethics, “The Seven Principles of Leave No Trace provide an easily understood framework of minimum impact practices for anyone visiting the outdoors. Although Leave No Trace has its roots in the countryside, the Principles have been adapted so that they can be applied anywhere — from remote areas, to local parks and even in your own neighbourhood. They also apply to almost every recreational activity. Each Principle covers a specific topic and provides detailed information for minimising impacts.”

The Seven Principles are:

The Leave No Trace organization goes on to explain that these Principles are a living, breathing system — much like the environment they protect: “The Seven Principles are well established and widely known, but they are not static. Leave No Trace continually examines, evaluates and reshapes the Principles. The organization’s Education Department conducts research — including publishing scholarly articles in independent journals — to ensure that the Principles are up to date with the latest insights from biologists, land managers and other leaders in outdoor education.”

As they also say, we are the solution to conservation; this process relies on us. By following the principles of Leave No Trace and being mindful of the impact we can have while we move through the outdoors, we improve the planet for ourselves and all the living things that share it with us. There are many ways to make your lasting mark on this world — but not through what you disturb during your wilderness exploration, or with any discarded items you leave behind afterwards.

Practising these principles is simplicity itself. Make it hard for any other living beings to see or hear you while you’re there; and once you’re gone, vanish completely — like the herd of deer I inadvertently scared away on that summer morning in England.

Emily Cathcart

Resonate Team

From her base in Ireland, Emily Cathcart was delighted to join Resonate as a Content Manager and has been revelling in the opportunity to collaborate with writers worldwide ever since. Emily enjoys encouraging authors through the creation process and also helping non-writers to tell their tales — all with Resonate’s ethical principles in mind. When she isn’t busy commissioning or editing, she can be found, camera in hand, seeking out-of-the-way discoveries for her own site that’s literally All About Dublin. And when Emily’s not working on any/all of the above, she’s writing articles and photo essays as a freelance journalist for publications from boutique magazines to national newspapers.

Time to Read:  4 Minutes
Resonate Team: Emily Cathcart
28 June 2023
Category:
From the Editor

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Most Global Wellness Retreats Need a Makeover
Wellness doesn’t work if those around you are experiencing a disservice in order for you to “get well.”

Most Global Wellness Retreats Need a Makeover

Global wellness tourism has an estimated value of USD 923.6 billion with a projected growth to 2.1 trillion by 2030. Making up a substantial portion of the global economy, wellness tourism is here to stay — for better or worse. You might be thinking, “What’s wrong with people putting their own self-care first, escaping the daily grind, and choosing to travel somewhere lush and luxurious for some yoga, meditation, and healthy living?” While that all sounds good on paper, wellness tourism, particularly when bundled and packaged as retreats, can often do more harm than good; especially when propagating a colonial and imperialist mindset. 

With so many different ways to experience wellness retreats from yoga holidays to “plant medicine” journeys, the questions that should be asked before embarking on an adventure are, “What is my intention behind this trip?” and “If I couldn’t document this trip via images on social media, would I still go?” Assuming that most people who go on retreats have somewhat of a connection to their spiritual side, prioritising this thought process should be a no-brainer in experiencing some self-inquiry and getting clarity on why they want to go on this retreat in the first place.

Uschi Gibson, a curator of transformative yogic adventures in northern and central India since 2010, believes that travel can create a lasting impact “To use [travel] as an opportunity for expanding your practice, and meditation. To build your capacity for personal awareness. To feel through the layers, and allow the pilgrimage to work itself through you, without needing to act or jump into response; to slow down.”

Retreat centres are often set up in remote areas, acting as self-contained bubbles with little to no interaction with the local community and culture in which they reside. People will use retreats to hide away or only stay within the confines of the centre. It’s very common for these retreat centres to be owned by expats or be part of global hotel mega-chains which would then skip out on directly benefiting the local economy. Author and wellness coach Araba Ofori-Acquah believes your purchasing power, for keepsakes and more, can make a huge difference: “Make the effort to spend money with locally-owned small businesses. And not just in the market; we have home-grown luxury brands too!” 

As evidenced by their multi-billion-dollar industry success, wellness retreats, unfortunately, tend to be only accessible to those with significant disposable incomes. Willing to pay an arm and a leg for spa treatments, juice fasts, or luxurious accommodations, very few of these trips include any kind of donation, give-back, or cultural immersion in which there is an opportunity to both learn about the issues of the surrounding community and contribute to an energy exchange.

Wellness Detox green smoothies concept, two glasses of green diet detox drink  and various fresh green vegetables around them, view from above composition

Gibson says, “Materialism is a way to stop experiencing authentically, a way to mask your discomfort, and shift the focus away from yourself to acquiring. When this starts to happen I usually step back and observe, because it’s just people’s stuff coming up. They are distancing themselves from the experience of India and trying to feel something familiar, and I have to let them work through it. Hopefully they’ll return to a place of receptivity.”

Finding a way to have dialogue and a real human connection goes far beyond what any treatment or wellness experience may offer. Reading and researching beforehand is imperative according to Marrakech riad manager, Imane Achouqua: “I suggest that travellers need to read about the culture and the country before visiting, and try to choose places and activities that offer authentic experiences.” 

Wellness travel needs to be about putting the “we” back into wellness. About not shying away from being changemakers and creating guidelines and principles in practice to create a lasting ripple effect once visitors have left for home. Wildlife life photographer and Rwandan tour guide Jean Marie Twambaze says he hopes people will go outside of the itinerary for a more holistic travel experience: “I was born and raised close to Volcanoes National Park, the home of mountain gorillas; I would like to let those who travel to my area know that it’s not only the wildlife and parks that are beautiful and worthy of visiting, but experiencing our culture, meeting and interacting with our people is also a great experience as you learn the everyday life of a Rwandan.”

Wellness doesn’t work if those around you are experiencing a disservice in order for you to “get well.” When everyone is in a state of receptivity, sharing, and mutually benefiting from the interaction, real wellness can begin to take shape — first through our own actions, then radiating outward to those around us.

Jordan Ashley

Activist

While embracing New York City’s fast-paced yoga culture, Jordan Ashley (MA Human Rights and PhD candidate) recognised a need for a more service-based practice; a need for experiences which give perspective to the self through selflessness. Drawing on her experience travelling and teaching yoga, she created Souljourn Yoga Foundation, a US 501(c)3 non-profit that creates transformational yoga retreats and teacher training programs to raise awareness and funds for young women’s education around the world. Jordan’s work has been featured by Forbes, the LA Times, Marie Claire UK, and more.

Time to Read:  3 Minutes
Activist: Jordan Ashley
28 June 2023
Category:
Burning Issues

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Celebrating Rice In Nepal and Considering Its Changing Nature
Mud fights with friends, dancing and singing are all part of ropain, the annual festival of rice plantation. | Photo: Raj Gyawali, socialtours

Celebrating Rice In Nepal and Considering Its Changing Nature

Every year in Nepal, as summer peaks and days start to become too hot and dry, the monsoon comes as a beautiful respite for many. The dry earth gets replenished and the forests and rivers are full of life. But perhaps the ones who anticipate the grey skies of monsoons most are the farming communities of Nepal, for whom the monsoon signals the start of the main plantation season. The season also means the beginning of the planting of paddy — the most important grain in the country. 

In fact, rice is so important here that come June every year, Nepalis observe National Paddy Day, locally known as ropain. The day falls on the 15th of the Nepali month of Ashar, typically towards the end of June. It is an important festival and is celebrated widely, as it symbolises the first planting of rice and is performed by farmers across the country. And in recent years, others, too, have become a part of the festival — with both locals and visitors planting rice saplings in the traditional style, enjoying mud fights with friends, dancing and singing together, and after plantation, eating a shared meal in the field.

I got to be a part of ropain celebrations for the first time back in 2021. At the time, Covid-19 lockdown restrictions had just been eased in the country and having been cooped up at home for months, getting a chance to be a part of the ropain festival and join in with something so communal felt all the more joyous and refreshing.

The writer (right) taking part in the 2021 celebrations. | Photo: Raj Gyawali, socialtours

The ropain festival typically starts with a small puja, a ceremony where farmers pray for a good monsoon and a good harvest. Traditionally, the land is tilled by the men and the women plant the seeds; but roles today are not as restrictive. Once the soil is watered enough, it’s time to get your hands dirty! You squash the mud with water until it is mushy enough to scoop up and splatter around with your friends and farmers alike — making the experience special. After all the fun is had, you then plant the rice saplings in the mud. If you’re lucky, it might rain, which will make the celebration all the more fun. 

After the planting is done, it’s time for a meal that’s shared by everyone. Traditionally, people eat beaten rice with curd — a combination that gives you energy and keeps you cool while working the fields. But these days, a larger spread is served; Newari delicacies such as choila (savoury barbequed meat), baatmas sadheko (spicy, fried soybeans), gundruk sadeko (dried, piquant spinach), aloo ko achar (potato pickles), and other side dishes. All of it is, of course, served with beaten rice, and washed down with a generous amount of chhyang (a fermented local brew, again made with rice!).

As you might have guessed, most meals in Nepali households are incomplete without rice. It is nearly always included in one form or another, whether beaten, puffed, boiled, or even as dessert. We eat rice at least once, if not twice, a day. It’s an important part of our lives and has huge significance in our culture. It also has deep religious significance — rice is a part of many important rituals, like pasni, a rice feeding ceremony that marks a child’s coming of age, the transition from drinking milk to eating solid food for the first time. It is also a part of one of Nepal’s most important Hindu festivals, Dashain, where rice grains are mixed with vermillion and placed on our foreheads in the name of blessings by the eldest members of a family.

Nepal
A paddy in Lho village on the Manaslu circuit trekking route, Nepal. | Photo: Skazzjy

Because of the historic cultural and religious significance of rice in Nepal, there is a huge demand for it. But farmers here are unable to meet this demand because most of them are subsistence and semi-subsistence in nature. Owing to this, there is a heavy dependence on rice imports. According to the Observatory of Economic Complexity (OEC), Nepal imported a staggering 947 times more rice than it exported in 2021. In addition to this giant trade deficit, prices are also on the rise and inflation is increasing, as reported in the Kathmandu Post — with Nepal Rastra Bank noting a 12.39 per cent jump in cereal grains and their products as compared to the same period of the last fiscal year.

There’s another problem with this deep dependence on rice: not any old rice will do. People prefer polished, long-grain, basmati rice, which has limited production in Nepal and again has to be imported, almost exclusively from India. This practice has resulted in local farmers planting basmati rice or other imported, hybrid strains, which has caused a decline in native varieties. Until some years back, farmers in different geographical regions of Nepal grew native breeds of rice, such as Aapjhutta, Jhapamansuli, Aanadi, Silange, Sano Jira, Bindeshwori, Mansuli, Marsi, Simtharo, among others. But now they have all switched to planting hybrid seeds — with encouragement from the government — because these seeds are more productive and cost-effective. 

And while this is helping meet demand, it is endangering the very existence of many indigenous seeds, and with them, a lot of native knowledge and traditions. Considering the longterm consequences, is that a wise way to move forward? As we celebrate ropain, perhaps that could give us some good food for thought. 

Marissa Taylor

Storyteller

Marissa Taylor is an environmental journalist based in Kathmandu, Nepal. Taylor has been working as a journalist since 2013, and has been a part of newsrooms of The Kathmandu Post, The Himalayan Times, and, most recently, The Record Nepal, where she was assistant editor. Although she covers a wide array of environmental topics, she focuses on writing on the intersections of climate change, poverty, inequalities, and public health. She was among the grantees in Thomson Reuters Foundation’s Climate Change Reporting programme in 2020 and in the British Council’s Women Reporters on Climate Change programme in 2021.

    Time to Read:  4 Minutes
    Storyteller: Marissa Taylor
    28 June 2023
    Category:
    Local Stories - Customs and Traditions

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    Photo Essay: The Magic of Java’s Mount Merapi and Everyday Volcanism in Yogyakarta
    A lenticular cloud arches over an erupting Mt Merapi in Indonesia. | All photos: Mark Levitin

    Photo Essay: The Magic of Java’s Mount Merapi and Everyday Volcanism in Yogyakarta

    At 02:00 am, as I steadily gain altitude on the way to Mt Merapi’s summit, the deep, narrow canyons penetrating its lower slopes feel menacing — in a spooky, supernatural way. I’m not afraid of the ongoing volcanic activity — I’ve learned a few lessons in volcanology, some of them the hard way, and I realise my chances of getting incinerated by a sudden pyroclasm are notably lower than of being hit by a truck while crossing a street in Yogyakarta.

    The tension is more profound; it comes from my inner monkey. Vague shadows and nocturnal sounds of the jungle tangle in my subconscious to hint at evil spirits and ancient curses. I don’t believe in this stuff, but it doesn’t help. Of course, in reality, there is no threat; I’d better worry about the clouds converging to obscure my view of the lava flow. 

    Lava canyons on the lower slopes of Merapi | Mark Levitin

    For experienced lava chasers like myself, Merapi is a good, infallible target: it may cough smoke and leak magma, like a victim of tectonic flu, or it may blow up like all the gunpowder barrels in the world thrown together, but it doesn’t feel like cooling down completely. There are designated viewpoints at its base, even — lava viewing towers. They get officially barred when the eruptions intensify, but this is actually the time to use them; when the activity weakens, it’s safe enough to climb higher, perhaps all the way to the crater. Which is why I’m dodging imaginary ghosts on the way up now.

    Cloud forest on the slopes of a volcano | Mark Levitin

    Merapi, a large stratovolcano rising just short of 3000 m above sea level, has always been central to Javanese mythology. Its name translates simply as “fire mountain” — although the Sanskritic root “meru” ambiguously could stand for a mountain in general, or refer specifically to the sacred peak used by Hindu gods in their quest for amrita, the immortality elixir. While the Javanese generally expect every active volcano to house a mighty spirit, Merapi is special: it stands too close to the royal city of Yogyakarta, and the legends of the great empire once ruled from there twist around it. 

    Prambanan, ancient Hindu temple in Yogyakarta | Mark Levitin

    A very popular legend, for example, claims that an immaterial reflection of the sultan’s palace, kraton, complete with nobles and guards, exists inside the volcano. Whatever happens between Merapi and the people of Yogyakarta, depends on the diplomatic relations between these two courts.

    Mild eruption of Merapi | Mark Levitin

    One would expect the proximity of a perpetually erupting volcano to cause massive anxiety. Pyroclastic explosions — think Pompeii, to simplify — occurred in 2006, 2010, 2018, and 2021, and this is in just the last 20 years; there were others before. Each time farms and villages get buried under slowly cementing volcanic ash, and hot gas clouds roll down from the crater, destroying everything in their path. The aftermath can be easily visualized upon a visit to Kinahrejo — a devastated village that has been preserved as a memorial to Merapi’s anger.

    Siraman — cleansing — ritual in a waterfall near Merapi | Mark Levitin

    And yet, locals seem unconcerned even when the volcano shivers and jolts, causing the ground to shake. I witnessed it more than once: a few guys sitting in a typical warkop, an open-air cafe, swallowing near-lethal doses of caffeine and chatting. All of a sudden, the tables leap a centimetre or two into the air, coffee spills from the mugs, buildings around creak and lean a bit to one side. “What is it, an earthquake?” exclaims one of the men, catching his cup. “Yeah, an earthquake.” confirms another. “Ah, an earthquake…” dismisses the third, and they go on gossiping.

    kraton of Yogyakarta
    Ritual worshipping Nyi Roro Kidul on Parangkusumo Beach | Mark Levitin

    The reason? Well, partly, it’s habitual. Humans get used to anything if it happens regularly enough. Partly it’s the laid-back Indonesian nature. But partly it’s the mystical pact between the ruling sultan’s dynasty and Merapi’s powerful spirit, signed, according to some of the legends, by Parangkusumo, a historical monarch renowned for his magic abilities, and overseen by Nyi Roro Kidul, the goddess of the south seas.

    Worship of the goddess of the south seas | Mark Levitin

    Merapi, the kraton of Yogyakarta, and Parangkusumo Beach, where the mage king once meditated to gain Nyi Roro Kidul’s favor, form a straight line, more or less. This is the spiritual axis of Java, and a lot of Javanese mythology winds around this invisible rod. Slim chances something as mundane as a subterranean shockwave or a flow of superheated gas could ignore it, right? Interestingly, this line actually coincides almost perfectly with a tectonic fault. Speak of ancient wisdom. 

    Merapi in a cloud | Mark Levitin

    And of course, there’s the guardian — juru kunci gunung, a man in charge of peace talks with the spirit of Merapi. Mbah Maridjan, quite a legendary figure, died in 2010 while using his powers to hold off the eruption. Despite his efforts, and the relatively timely evacuation, the pyroclasms did kill over 300 people. Of course, the locals insist this number would’ve been much higher if not for the shaman’s self-sacrifice. His son, Prof. Asih, has now assumed the sacred position; but due to modern education, puts his trust in volcanology rather than mystic arts. One of his initiatives, for example, was to equip every family of farmers living on the slopes of Merapi with a walkie-talkie. There’s no harm in putting your faith in magic… so long as you have technology as a backup plan.

    Close-up of a lava flow | Mark Levitin

    Mark Levitin

    Traveller

    Mark Levitin is an award-winning travel photographer and writer. Mark has been nomadic since the age of 18, which was before digital technologies had arrived in most of Asia, so he started off as an analogue nomad, then upgraded to a digital version. Mark’s preferred region of the world is South and SouthEast Asia. The driving force behind all his wandering is an insatiable curiosity: for anything, any knowledge, generally speaking, but first and foremost, for the diversity of human cultures. See some of Mark’s works on Instagram.

    Time to Read:  4 Minutes
    Traveller: Mark Levitin
    28 June 2023
    Category:
    Travellers' Tales - Nature - Photo Essay

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    Breakfast in a New York Minute
    The versatile bagel: the ideal breakfast for a fast-paced city that never sleeps.

    Breakfast in a New York Minute

    City hustle and bustle doesn’t come much more hectic than that of New York; you only need to stop and stand still for a moment during rush hour to appreciate the torrent of activity around you. All this haste demands a speedy feed to match, and nothing says morning in Manhattan like a bagel grabbed fresh, hot… and fast. 

    Whether it’s devoured on the journey to work, or nibbled ‘al desko’ while reading emails, a bagel is the go-to first meal of the day for countless New Yorkers. As much an automatic part of my commute as swiping my MetroCard at the turnstile just so (to avoid delaying impatient fellow subway riders behind me), my workday startup sequence isn’t complete until I’ve visited the bakery.

    The New York bagel was the first of its kind available in the United States. It appeared thanks to one of the city’s immigrant communities, with today’s breakfast stalwart tracing its origins back to the Ashkenazi Jews of Poland. Having come a long way from the old country — as did my ancestors from those same roots — these authentic bagels are larger and chubbier than the mass-produced varieties you’ll now find the world over. And unlike many things I’ve enjoyed eating since childhood, which seem to have magically shrunk as a rule, they’ve grown steadily over time with the average bagel’s size doubling over the last century or so.

    New York Bagel

    They’re inconsistent in shape, round-ish, with holes in the centre that range from clearly defined to nearly nonexistent. A proper New York-style bagel is hand-rolled, allowed to proof slowly, kettle boiled, and then baked. It has a shiny lightly crusted exterior, with just the right chew inside. When it’s said that something in the local water makes them difficult to replicate elsewhere it may be true to some degree; but not so much for what’s in the water, than for what’s not. New York City has a very soft water supply, notable for lower mineral concentrations than most other places in the US (with less calcium and magnesium). This may indeed be part of a superior bagel’s secret, however, there’s a bit more to the science behind it.

    So much for what makes them so good — back to the serious business of placing a breakfast order in NYC. I may not always be in the mood to ponder it too deeply first thing in the morning, but with a little imagination you don’t have to limit yourself to ‘the usual’. An ideal blank canvas for whatever you want to put on them, the bagels themselves come in flavours from poppy to pumpernickel, sesame to salt; even cinnamon raisin and blueberry. For the purist, only plain will do; while for the indecisive, the ‘everything’ bagel eases the agony of choice.

    Whichever I select, the next question is what topping to add to create my bagel masterpiece. Standing in the bakery line debating my options, the Midtown traffic flashes by outside. Early sunlight dances on the sidewalk as it bounces off mirrored skyscrapers, there’s a steady hum of customers coming and going, and I can smell the latest batch in the oven. I tell myself there’s nothing wrong with my classic fallback; plain cream cheese (word to the wise: unless you ask for ‘just a schmear‘ — a light scrape — be prepared for what’s likely to be a very generous application).

    Maybe I’ll treat myself to scallion cream cheese today; I’ve no clients to see or breathe on. And with payday around the corner, might I make it more luxurious by adding some paper-thin slices of nova? Or perhaps I should opt for walnut-raisin spread instead to celebrate Wednesday? Wait, how about peanut butter and strawberry jam? On the other hand, a freshly made egg-and-bacon sandwich in a just-baked bagel sounds pretty good right about now…

    New York Bagel

    Nearly ready to finalise my decision, I wait my turn and then it comes… ‘Next!’

    Snapping out of my reverie, I make a quick call: ‘Large iced coffee light and sweet, egg-onion with a schmear, please’. I watch as the latter is deftly made to order. The golden yellow bagel is sliced in two horizontally and the smooth tangy cheese is slathered on its open face. It’s slapped back together and cut vertically into two halves, then white paper wrapping is expertly folded around the sandwich in an embrace that leaves a neat crease across the middle. Easy to open, easy to hold, easy to love.

    Though their portability has made them ever-popular, when the full-throttle Big Apple pace eventually slows, bagels aren’t just for grabbing on a headlong sprint into the office. Included as part of family gatherings, invited along to mark celebrations, or as an essential attendee at a leisurely Sunday brunch, a bag of bagels is always a welcome addition.

    When I was a kid, it was my Dad’s job to visit the ‘good bagel place’ in the neighbourhood (as designated by Mom). I’d accompany him, assisting in making the crucial 13 picks for a well-balanced baker’s dozen. The still-warm selection was handed over in a bulging plastic sack emblazoned with a message in red ink. It cheerfully said THANK YOU before going on to express the hope that we would HAVE A NICE DAY (with a smiley face for good measure🙂). Our precious cargo would be nestled in brown paper inside, ready to take its place as the guest of honour at our breakfast table.


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    Emily Cathcart

    Resonate Team

    From her base in Ireland, Emily Cathcart was delighted to join Resonate as a Content Manager and has been revelling in the opportunity to collaborate with writers worldwide ever since. Emily enjoys encouraging authors through the creation process and also helping non-writers to tell their tales — all with Resonate’s ethical principles in mind. When she isn’t busy commissioning or editing, she can be found, camera in hand, seeking out-of-the-way discoveries for her own site that’s literally All About Dublin. And when Emily’s not working on any/all of the above, she’s writing articles and photo essays as a freelance journalist for publications from boutique magazines to national newspapers.

    Time to Read:  4 Minutes
    Resonate Team: Emily Cathcart
    20 June 2023
    Category:
    Local Stories - Food and Drink

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