Volunteering on a United Nations–run workcamp in Tripoli, Lebanon, was an unexpected yet deeply formative chapter of my journey through the Middle East. By the time I arrived in Tripoli, I had already travelled through Lebanon, immersing myself in the diverse cultures, landscapes, and histories of the region. Each country had offered its own insights and challenges, but Lebanon, and Tripoli in particular, left a lasting impression on me—one shaped not only by structured volunteering but also by chance encounters, personal lessons, and moments of generosity that I still reflect on today.
My original plans for Lebanon were already well underway before I left the UK. I had arranged to take part in a workcamp organised through the Middle East Council of Churches, which took place in the Bekaa Valley. That first workcamp was intense, rewarding, and meaningful, and once it finished, I travelled to Beirut to rest, reflect, and consider my next steps. It was during this period in Beirut that I unexpectedly came across another opportunity—this time a United Nations–led workcamp based in Tripoli.
I had not planned on joining a second workcamp in Lebanon, but travel has a way of opening doors when you least expect it. While staying in Beirut, I learned about the UN workcamp in Tripoli and decided to take the opportunity. The idea of contributing further, particularly through an organisation like the United Nations, felt like a natural extension of my journey. I was keen to deepen my understanding of Lebanon beyond the areas I had already seen and to continue engaging with local communities in a meaningful way.
Tripoli itself was unlike anywhere else I had visited in Lebanon. As one of the country’s oldest cities, it carried layers of history, culture, and complexity. It was vibrant and chaotic, deeply traditional in some areas and quietly modern in others. At the same time, it faced significant social and economic challenges, which made the work of the UN initiative especially important. From the outset, it was clear that this workcamp was focused not on quick fixes but on long-term social development, education, sustainability, and cross-cultural understanding.
The workcamp brought together volunteers from across the world, creating a truly international environment. One thing that surprised me was encountering a group of English volunteers already in Lebanon. Coming so far from home, I had expected to be surrounded mostly by people from entirely different backgrounds, so hearing familiar accents was unexpected and oddly grounding. At the same time, it reinforced just how interconnected international volunteering networks can be.
Our work in Tripoli covered a range of community-focused projects. These included educational activities, support for local initiatives, and broader efforts aimed at strengthening community resilience and sustainability. Working under the umbrella of the United Nations added a sense of responsibility and structure to the experience. There was a strong emphasis on collaboration, accountability, and respect for local leadership. Rather than imposing ideas, the projects were shaped by local needs and delivered in partnership with community members.
One of the most rewarding aspects of the workcamp was engaging directly with the people of Tripoli. Through conversations, shared meals, and day-to-day interactions, I gained insight into lives shaped by both hardship and remarkable resilience. Despite the challenges many faced, there was a strong sense of pride, generosity, and hospitality. These human connections gave real meaning to the work we were doing and reminded me that volunteering is as much about listening and learning as it is about contributing.
Travelling through the Middle East had already challenged many of my assumptions, but the Tripoli workcamp reinforced the importance of international cooperation. Seeing people from different cultures, religions, and nationalities working together toward shared goals made the idea of global solidarity feel tangible rather than abstract. The United Nations framework provided a space where collaboration across borders felt not only possible but essential.
However, not every lesson from this experience was a positive one, and part of what makes this chapter so significant is the way it taught me about trust, instinct, and consequence. One of the English volunteers was effectively in charge of logistics for the group. As my travels were far from over—I still had several months ahead of me—I faced a practical concern: what to do with the rolls of film I had accumulated.
At that time, film photography was central to how I documented my travels. I had taken around ten rolls of film, capturing images from Baalbek, the Bekaa Valley, and my earlier workcamp experiences. I was unsure about the reliability of the postal system in Lebanon and reluctant to carry the film with me for months more travel. After some consideration, I made the decision to entrust the films to the English volunteer, who was returning to the UK. He agreed to take them back and post them once home.
Even at the time, something about the situation didn’t sit quite right with me. I had a sense—difficult to articulate—that there was something off. For reasons I never fully understood, he seemed to have taken a dislike to me. My instinct told me to be cautious, but I ignored it, choosing practicality and trust over intuition. In hindsight, that decision proved costly.
When I eventually returned to the UK and contacted him, he told me that the films had been lost in the post. Whether through carelessness or misfortune, the result was the same: the photographs were gone. Along with them were irreplaceable visual records of Baalbek, the Bekaa Valley, and my first summer workcamp in Lebanon. The loss was deeply frustrating and disappointing, not only because of the images themselves, but because of what they represented—memories, moments, and stories that could never be recreated.
That experience taught me a hard but valuable lesson about trusting my instincts, particularly while travelling. It reminded me that while openness and trust are essential when engaging with the world, they must be balanced with self-awareness and caution. Although I regret that decision, I also recognise that such lessons are often only learned through experience.
Importantly, the Tripoli workcamp was not defined by that loss. One of the most positive outcomes of my time there was meeting Khalil. Through the workcamp, we connected, and he generously offered for me to stay with him and his family back in Beirut. This invitation was an extraordinary gesture of kindness and hospitality. Staying with Khalil and his family allowed me to experience everyday life in Beirut in a way that no hostel or hotel ever could.
Living with a local family gave me deeper insight into Lebanese culture, values, and daily rhythms. It was a reminder that the most meaningful aspects of travel often come not from planned itineraries, but from relationships formed along the way. Khalil’s generosity restored a sense of balance after the disappointment of losing my films and reinforced my belief in the kindness of people I met throughout the Middle East.
Looking back, my experience as a volunteer on the UN workcamp in Tripoli was layered and complex—filled with learning, connection, disappointment, and generosity. It strengthened my understanding of international cooperation, community development, and the realities faced by many in Lebanon. At the same time, it taught me deeply personal lessons about trust, instinct, and resilience.
Ultimately, this workcamp became a meaningful chapter in my wider journey through the Middle East. It added depth to my travels, grounding them in purpose and human connection. Despite the loss of photographs, the memories remain vivid, shaped not only by what I saw and did, but by the people I met and the lessons I carried forward. In that sense, the experience in Tripoli continues to travel with me, long after the journey itself ended.
