October 25 – The day of my sister’s arrival
Yesterday, I was irritable until my sister arrived. Irritated that the Indian woman was late for departure. Irritated that the tuk-tuk got lost and stuck. Irritated by the loud stimulants of the city, and irritated that my sister’s flight got delayed.

I don’t understand why I was so on edge. Smiling in every scenario but breathing to stay calm.

But the dark dress I was wearing I dropped the moment I saw my sister, standing naked with only my tears of happiness to cover me. I felt many mixed emotions when we locked eyes, but for now, the strongest emotion was happiness.

October 26

The amount of sugar that gets poured into my milk tea is addictive.

October 27

We took a tuk-tuk to the backwaters, treating ourselves to an overnight tour on a boat called Pearl Cruise. It’s clear that Alleppey has been built on tourism, with modern streets and European-named buildings like The French Café, attracting croissant addicts wearing berets.

For a rare moment in my life, I experienced what it feels like to be a princess. Sitting on my high horse, gazing across beautiful landscapes while being served. That’s what the houseboat was like. I prefer Moana.

October 28

We made our way up to Munnar. We escaped death about four times, I had a heart attack about eight times, and my sister, Carlijn, almost puked twice. 

The views were incredible though. So green, so vivid, with waterfalls pouring from the heavy rains. I always notice this sense of peace when you enter mountain terrain. The locals have a different energy compared to ocean and jungle communities.

Our homestay is nestled in the middle of the mountains. After we settled in, my sister and I went to a traditional Kalaripayattu performance. I was impressed. The amount of control the performers have over their bodies makes me jealous. What power they must feel, being able to command their muscles exactly as their minds signal them to. I’ll need an extra yoga class or two before I’m at 5% of their ability.

October 29

This morning, I danced in the shower. I had a killer meditation session. Sucked at Kapalabhati, one of the initial breathing exercises, but succeeded in the effort. Scribbled in my wannabe-daily journal. And had a shower with warm water.

I cannot describe the effect it has on a woman to be embraced by a cloak of warmth. Not the inflaming kind, but the soothing kind. So there I stood, swinging my hips from left to right, circling them high and low, allowing that rush of serotonin to enter every cell in my body.

In the afternoon, we visited a spice farm. We received a tour from a knowledgeable man and were brought to the tourist trap afterward. It was interesting to observe my sister when our guide explained the medical benefits of the plants. She nodded knowingly and asked smart questions. I believe that a large part of her self-identification stems from being a doctor.

I find her inspiring and admire her when she wears her white coat, but I admire her even more when she takes it off. Revealing her playful and curious, polka-dot t-shirt. Opening up and making me laugh. It brings me back to the days when we had sleepovers in our homemade tents, and identification was an unfamiliar term for us both.

October 30

During the tea plantation tour, we were spoiled by a symphony of aromas. The driver occasionally stopped to pluck a plant, crush it, and hold it below our noses. I inhaled deeply at least three times. Like a kid addicted to glue. My favourites were eucalyptus leaves, tea tree leaves, lemongrass, and, well, the entire tea factory.

At the age of six, I was already flirting with nostril addiction. I used to descend the grey rubber stairs of my primary school, patterned with eight circles a step. If the hallway was empty, I’d crouch down and inhale the rubber’s sterile perfume like a tiny junkie in pigtails.

I was surprised to learn that the majority of tea pluckers are women. During our walk, we visited them while they were sorting weeds from tea leaves. They carried a sense of harmony with them, peacefully going about their work. Silently observing them, I felt proud to be a woman.

I really like Munnar. I feel good here. I will need to return one day.

October 31

Not much happened today. My sister and I had a slow morning. I woke, meditated, showered, ate, and read before our driver took us to Kochi. We decided to split our travel day in two by stopping here first.

In the afternoon we wandered through the streets of Kochi and, as usual, we ate. We ate before the Kathakali show and after it. We ate when we arrived and again just now in bed.

The food is a stage play of flavors, a performance I can’t resist. My body says stop. My mind says encore. So here I sit, slightly nauseous from three chocolates and two Dutch stroopwafels, a tragic hero of my own appetite.

I am excited to come back to the Ashram tomorrow. This week has been perfect. The best sister time, same idiotic energy intact. I am slightly nervous to bring her to our institution, but I trust we will all stay sane.