So, middle of December, the whole fam packed up and travelled half a world to visit the motherland. We do this once in two years, sometimes we go 3 years sans breathing this hot humid air, though. It’s always in the holiday season, so we never really get to experience what life is like at other times in the year.

I’m currently writing from the motherland, and this is a first because I don’t think I’ve ever blogged from here. I really just want to get to home and its comforts, essentially, but I’ll try to describe in depth what’s going on.

For starters, I got really sick the first few days we got here. I now know how babies feel when they’re wailing and nobody understands what they want and they want something but no one can figure it out and they keep crying and crying. I’m not saying I was crying but I was. I was suffering and I could do nothing about it but cry. For reals. 

All I wanted to do was go. BACK. HOME. Like, the urge was so real and desperate. (I’m slightly okay now.)

The motherland has its own beauty, I suppose. (See how I’m grudgingly admitting it lmao.) Serene paddy fields with the bright green of new growth, maybe a pond dotted with lotus flowers, a cluster of coconut trees beyond that, swaying in a breeze, and finally a majestic backdrop of towering mountains. Wow. 

Also, global warming is real, yo. Every time I come here for the holidays, it’s hot. Sweltering, humidity laden heat that makes you sweat and sweat, so much that it’s like you’re eternally swimming in your own H2O. Skin clammy with sweat 25/8. When I came here this year however, I was positively shivering at some points of the day. (This may be because I was sick but we’ll blame the melting ice caps.) 

Two days into our stay here, my phone battery died and refused to charge. This meant I was completely cut off from the world. I didn’t see the need to bring my laptop here and I guess I’m paying the price. (Currently using my sister’s laptop to type and her keys are so tiny compared to mine!) I don’t have anything to read, and I get on my mom’s phone to internet like once a day.  The only book available to me is the Quran, and that’s my current read. I sit by my window with the Quran open, waiting for the next cool breeze to reach me. 

I don’t feel like eating much here, and that’s because I got sick. I am an eating machine, trust me. It looks like I just don’t like the food here. Everything is so much more here. Like, the ginger is ginger-ier, the chilly is way more spicy and stuff like that. Cue heart burns and sugar rushes. It’s also funny because we always have nice food here. Like boxes of cake, and other snacks. I just don’t feel like eating stuff here. 

I know at the start I was a bit too extreme, dying to go back, but now I’m willing to see the end of this visit, while tolerating the whole middle part. Who knows, it might be nice to me, surprise me (like someone said) so I’ll just know that this whole visit is transient and I’m going back soon, back to the sound of cars rushing by instead of crows cawing at my window.