"WELL, it looks like my breast pump isn't working," says my friend Mariah in the wee hours of a freezing morning in Sikkim, India.
At 6am, she had been up much earlier than me for two reasons; she had suffered food poisoning from eating "pani puri"
from a roadside stall, and she needed to pump her breast milk before beginning the day.
We had travelled for almost two days, the first leg consisting of flights from Kuala Lumpur to Kolkata, then from Kolkata to Bagdogra, followed by a road journey that took more than a day to reach our destination — Sikkim.
Sikkim is a tiny state in northern India wedged between Tibet, Nepal and Bhutan. Getting there isn't easy; it requires long travels and plenty of visa and permit checks.
It's certainly not an obvious choice for a vacation, but Mariah wanted to go somewhere with a sense of adventure. We have been friends for more than a decade and had travelled together to all sorts of places, getting ourselves lost and in trouble now and then.
And then her babies came, and she had to hang up her adventure hat for a while.
Now that her youngest is less dependent on her and can be managed by her husband, she is ready again for a small window of adventure.
I have not travelled with her since she had kids, and naturally, I was a little worried. What if she feels sad at being away from them? What if her boys have a medical emergency? And since she is still breastfeeding, how is she going to manage that while we travel to this remote place?
Most importantly, I wonder if she has changed, if motherhood has made her less fun or cool than before.
ADVENTURES AND MISADVENTURES
As it is, travelling somewhere not too accessible is bound to encounter some bumps.
We severely underestimated the drive to Sikkim, and the roads were so horrid that both Mariah and I became carsick, despite popping in every piece of salt candy we had, swallowing motion sickness pills and inhaling calming essential oils along the way.
In Kolkata, the hotel we booked online (that looked great in pictures) turned out to be absolutely dingy. At 2am, a man tried to enter our room, waking us up and leaving us frightened.
Somewhere along the drive, Mariah decided to eat some pani puri sold at a roadside stall even though I advised her against it.
Lo and behold, she paid the price and had to suffer bouts of nauseousness and diarrhoea in our overnight trip to Sikkim.
Her string of bad luck continued when she was attacked by a rogue mountain monkey as we were walking along a bridge in the middle of nowhere.
The climax of her misadventures was discovering that her electronic breast pump had broken down in the middle of a mountain village, with absolutely nothing but farmhouses.
If you're a breastfeeding mother, you should know very well the dire consequences of not being able to pump sufficiently. If you're not, let me tell you that it is an uncomfortable and sometimes painful affair.
But despite all of the hiccups, she persevered. I think I was more worried than her, to be honest. We had so many laughs along the way, saw beautiful scenery, met new people, learnt so much about North Indian culture and ate delicious food.
It was just like old times, except once in a while, she would make Facetime calls to her toddler son.
GROW UP, NOT GROW OUT
We had breakfast at a guest house facing the jagged mountains and for the past two days, we survived the nights with no electricity — freezing under our blankets while contemplating our decision to visit Sikkim in the first place.
But when the sun came up, illuminating the sprawling snowcapped mountains and glassy cold rivers, it reminded us that sometimes, we need to rough it out before being able to enjoy the wonderful experiences.
The empty village road leading to quiet Tibetan temples, the freshest air that one could ever breathe in, and being awed by the endless beauty of nature were all worth it.
As we sat down to enjoy our morning coffee, Mariah told me, smiling: "I'm still me."
Often, we think that assuming more responsibilities in life and getting older means bidding farewell to all the things we loved to do when we are young.
With the arrival of motherhood, I watched in sadness how some friends have drowned in that role, not giving themselves space to breathe, an opportunity for self-care, or even a moment to indulge in personal hobbies.
This has inspired me to seek out my friends and help them find their footing again after having a family. Some of them have been encouraged to attend art classes once in a while, allocate time to read every week and even gone back to wall-climbing after a long hiatus.
They have long brunches without their children on weekends and they are even game to pack their bags again for a little adventure.
Whatever it may be, my trip to Sikkim reminded me that all of us should continue to carve out some time and space for ourselves, to indulge in the things we love, and not to lose ourselves and our sense of being as we move into the next phase of our lives.
