A family wishlist of clouds, markets, forests, waterfalls and cloth
A window above Aizawl
Every New Year’s Eve, I find myself wishing for less noise and more sky. As Julie—the curator at Curtain Call Adventures and a fiber artist—I am drawn to places where colour, craft and landscape meet. This year, I want to take my husband and our two teenage children to Mizoram: a quiet retreat outside Aizawl, a night of clouds and distant city lights, and a slow family journey through markets, forests, waterfalls and cloth.
I imagine choosing a small, peaceful place outside Aizawl, with a generous view of the mountains. In the morning, clouds would lift and settle over the ridges like layers of muslin. At night, Aizawl’s lights would twinkle in the distance. That is my idea of family luxury: a window, a cup of tea, room for teenagers to disappear into a book or playlist, and mountains breathing beyond the glass.
Market colours and a slow lunch
We would begin with an unhurried wander through the market. Mizoram’s markets seem made for a fiber artist’s eye: colourful vegetables, greens, chillies, citrus, bright clothes and small details of everyday life. I would photograph only with permission, while the children discovered unfamiliar fruit, and let the market set the rhythm.
By lunchtime, we would find a café and order something simple with a glass of Champhai wine for the adults, alongside easy choices for the children. It would be a pause between the market and the hills—a table, a view and time to notice the afternoon light.
Flowers, soda and the last night of the year
Close to sunset, we would walk towards Sakawrhmuituai Tlang at Sihphir. I want my family to see the valley surrounded by cosmos flowers, their delicate blooms softening the steep ridges and open sky. As a textile artist, I see colour everywhere: pink and white flowers, green slopes, blue-grey cloud and warm lights below. The teenagers would have photographs; I would have my palette.
Before returning, we would collect bottles of LOCAL, Mizoram’s all-natural soda, and order snacks from Humble Bee bakery. I would arrange a corner for the evening: a Mizo thali, plates to share, something warm and blankets for watching the stars. I do not need a crowded countdown. I would rather hear the children’s stories, taste an unfamiliar dish together and watch midnight arrive over the mountains.
A forest morning and the road to Thenzawl
The next morning would begin late. After New Year’s Eve, we would have a slow breakfast and drive to Hmuifang. There, we would walk through tropical forest looking for small wild flowers close to the path. I love this kind of walking: not a race towards a viewpoint, but a practice of looking. A tiny flower, wet leaf or change in birdsong can pull a family away from screens and into the same moment.
At a local restaurant, we would happily eat aloo paratha alongside bai, the Mizo vegetable dish. The familiar and the new can sit on the same plate. The best family meals are the ones where everyone finds one favourite bite, then reaches across the table to try someone else’s.
From Hmuifang, we would continue to Thenzawl and spend the night in a forest property. I imagine arriving as the light softens, hearing insects and leaves instead of traffic, and sleeping somewhere held by trees. The following morning, we would walk to a nearby waterfall before seeing magnificent Vantawng Falls. Water in Mizoram seems to carry the mood of the landscape—sometimes silver and delicate, sometimes powerful enough to fill the whole valley with sound. I can already imagine the teenagers comparing photographs, my husband finding the safest viewpoint, and all of us standing quietly when the roar becomes too large for conversation.
An afternoon with the weavers
After lunch, I would give the afternoon to handmade weaves with my family beside me. This is the part of the journey that speaks most directly to me. I would sit with the weavers, study the cloth, and share Mizo tea and rice cakes while listening to stories held in colour, motif and repetition. I would love the children to see that cloth records patience, memory, skill and the hands that made it.
This is my New Year’s Eve wishlist for the Northeast: not a packed itinerary, but a sequence of small, vivid family encounters. Clouds above Aizawl. Vegetables glowing in a market. A local soda in a glass bottle. Cosmos flowers at sunset. A Mizo thali under the stars. Forest paths, waterfalls and the quiet concentration of weavers. I would enter the new year with my husband and children carrying very little—perhaps a length of cloth, a few flavours, and the feeling that we had finally given ourselves enough time to see. Years later, I hope we would remember not only where we went, but how it felt to look in the same direction together.
Photo note: All photographs are from Julie’s Mizoram journey and are used here as part of the personal travel account.
