About Mariellen Ward

Recent Posts by Mariellen Ward

The Titanic and What It Means

 

 

The Titanic Movie and Why It Fascinates

“It was called the Ship of Dreams.” Today, April 4, the Titanic in 3D movie opens in theatres, in anticipation of the 100th anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic on April 15, 1912. I will be in Halifax — the only officially designated Titanic city in North America — on April 15, 2012 for the commemoration events.

Fully 100 years later, people are still fascinated by this tragedy. The James Cameron-directed Titanic movie is the second highest grossing movie of all time (after Avatar, another Cameron flick). And the Titanic 3D movie is sure to do well this time around. See trailer, below.

This blog post is about why the Titanic fascinates me, and the strange and uncanny connections I have had with this story throughout my life. To find out, read …

“Titanic sinks on maiden voyage, great loss of life”

When I was a child, we spent our summers at a cottage in Ontario, and our book collection included The Story of the Wreck of the Titanic by Everett Marshall, a “minute book” published in 1912, only weeks after the sinking of the Titanic. It was this “minute book” that captured my interest. I felt an inexplicable empathy for the victims, many of whom did not die suddenly, but slowly, knowing there was no hope. They were completely abandoned, not only on the night of April 14, 1912, but in the weeks, months and years beforehand, as the ship’s designers, builders and operators did not seek to ensure their safety with the provision of proper equipment and drills. The ship was considered unsinkable, so what was the point?

I particularly remember staring in fascination at the photos and drawings in the book, like the artist’s rendering of an elderly couple in the stern, holding each other with grief and lament etched on their faces as the great ship sank beneath the waves. I bought myself a copy of this book on eBay this year for my birthday (see picture, right).

A flashpoint for grief

Many years later, as an adult, the Titanic again loomed large in my life and imagination. I went to see the James Cameron-directed Titanic movie shortly after it opened at the Runnymede Theatre — just before the theatre was about to close and become a book store. The Runnymede was a grand old Toronto theatre frequented by my movie-mad mother as she was growing up, so the theatre and the closing had special connotations for me. I was hit hard, emotionally, by the movie, especially when Rose dies at the end. I cried so hard my boyfriend had to steer me out of the theatre.

The next day, I went to make lunch for my mother, who was sick, and I sat on her bed and told her all about the movie and the theatre closing, as she ate. It was almost the last time I saw my mother alive; she died suddenly in her sleep of heart failure a day or two later. I now think the Titanic movie hit me so hard because, subconsciously, I knew my mother was dying — though consciously, I thought she just had a chest cold.

Sojourn in Nova Scotia

My mother died in January 1998, and I was hit hard by grief and the trauma of finding her body. By late spring, I was still flailing, unable to work or function properly, consumed by feelings of loss and regret, and in great pain. I decided to take a vacation by myself, for the first time, and I felt called to go to the ocean. I went to Halifax and Cape Breton Island, Nova Scotia, sensing that it would be both a wild and gentle place. At the north tip of the island, I poured out my grief to the vast ocean, as the steely waves pounded against the rocky coastline.

At that time, I was younger and had long reddish hair, and the Titanic movie was very much in the public eye. A woman at a B&B I stayed in felt I bore an uncanny resemblance to Kate Winslet, who plays Rose in the movie. Perhaps it was just her feverish imagination, but she mentioned it several times. Later, when I was in Halifax, I toured the Titanic exhibit at the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic and also visited the Titanic grave site — where I was VERY SURPRISED to come across a grave marker for J. Dawson. It all seemed strange and coincidental.

Living life to the fullest

It didn’t happen right away, but several years later — after my fiance left me and my father died of cancer — I started following my dreams. The way Rose did after Jack died in the Titanic movie. There is a truth in that movie that I have discovered in my own life. After the loss of my parents, I felt compelled to start following my dreams, come what may. It’s the primary motivation that has propelled me forward these last six-eight years, and given a meaning to my life that keeps me traveling, dreaming, writing.

My first dream was to become a yoga teacher and my second dream was to go to India — which I did, for six months in 2005-06, feeling very much like Rose in the photos you see on her bedstand at the end of the movie. That trip of course changed my life. My third dream was to become a writer. Ironic that Titanic was called the Ship of Dreams …

Toronto Yoga Show Photos & Highlights

 

Sitar players and yoga gurus showed up in force at the Toronto Yoga Show. First off, I am not that keen on yoga shows and conferences and cannot afford the big-ticket class fees. But I did pay a Saturday visit to the Toronto Yoga Show floor and was drawn to speak with a number of people who seemed sincere and knowledgeable (in spite of the overtly commercial atmosphere). I chatted with some people from Sivananda Yoga. I have been to several of their worldwide yoga ashrams and centres — such as the beautiful Sivananda Ashram Yoga Camp north of Montreal, in the Laurentian Mountains. Kevin “The Wolf” Alexander, Wearer of Many Hats, from the Northern Edge Algonquin retreat centre was also there. I have wanted to go to this very special retreat on the edge of Algonquin Park for more years than I care to remember. Somehow, after chatting with Kevin, I think this summer will finally be the one. Among other special events, they often host yoga retreats.

The highlight, for me, was unexpectedly coming across sitar teacher Lata Swarn modestly sitting on the floor and playing in a booth selling yoga clothes. I kneeled down and listened, falling into a trance induced by the classical Indian music. Not only can she play like a charm, but she’s a lovely person too — and I discovered that she lives in the same west-end Toronto building as my brother. Another highlight was meeting yoga “legend” Dharma Mittra.

My second favourite moment was coming across Ram Vakkalanka chatting with yoga “legend” Dharma Mittra. In this photo, below, Dharma is holding one of Ram’s CDs — Ram is also a talented sitar player, as well as Sanskrit teacher and yoga philosophy teacher. I notice that Ram is leading a workshop on Inner healing through sacred sounds at Sivananda in Quebec this summer.

I did not take part in the free, open classes … but did enjoy taking advantage of some good photo opps.

India: What Life is Like on a Yoga Ashram

I love mornings at yoga ashrams in India – it’s a perfect time for meditation or yoga class. The first light of dawn has not begun to rise from behind the Himalayan foothills when the sound of a gong begins to echo through the corridors of Anand Prakash Yoga Ashram in Rishikesh, India. At Aurovalley Ashram, on the outskirts of Haridwar, the buildings are spread out across the ashram’s acres of gardens and you have to wake yourself to be ready in time for 6 am meditation in the silent, white marble meditation hall.

This is my favourite time of day in India. The intense golden-yellow Indian rises like a benevolent god. In fact, the sun has been worshipped in India since the dawn of time. A feeling of sacred reverence seems to fill the air. In Rishikesh, it’s in the sounds of chants, bells and the song of the Ganges River; at Aurovalley, it’s in the sound of birds, the breeze in the trees and the sight of massive tropical blooms. Huge, crimson hibiscus flowers dangle from trees that line the ashram’s pathways, and whole walls are covered in fuchsia bougainvillea.

In the film Eat, Pray, Love – based on the best-selling memoir by Elizabeth Gilbert – Julia Roberts’ character travels to Italy to enjoy food, to India to study yoga and to Bali to, eventually, fall in love. In India, Gilbert purportedly stayed in a yoga ashram in Ganeshpuri, a pilgrimage centre outside of Mumbai (Bombay). But there are countless yoga ashrams all over India.

A Place of Respite

Ashrams are places of spiritual retreat. They are not meant to be an escape from life; but a respite from worldly pursuits. They offer spiritual seekers an unencumbered place where they can spend time concentrating solely on the spiritual aspect of life. What is the spiritual aspect of life? It is probably different things to different people, but to me, it’s a chance to be quiet, to spend some time on inner reflection and to think about the bigger questions of life – in other words, “what is my purpose in life,” rather than, “when is that hydro bill due?”

There is a set daily schedule, which many ashrams expect you to religiously follow. It depends somewhat on whether the ashram caters to Indian or foreign students: the Indian ones tend to be stricter. Anand Prakash is owned and run by Yogi Vishvketu (Vishva), an Indian yoga teacher and his wife Chetana Panwar, from Toronto. Their ashram is usually filled with western students. Aurovalley Ashram is owned and run by Swami Brahmdev (Swamiji), who follows the teachings of Sri Aurobindo. This ashram attracts both Indian and foreign students – many of them from Colombia or Russia because Swamiji regularly travels to those countries. [To read more about Aurovalley Ashram, read A Haven of Peace and Conscious Living.]

The highlight of the Anand Prakash schedule, for me, is the 6 am yoga class, taught by Vishva in the top-floor yoga hall. The hall has huge picture windows that frame the awe-inspiring site of the sun coming up from behind the Himalayan foothills. In late winter, an invigorating early morning wind rushes down from the mountains – and really does feel like a blast of Shiva energy (Shiva is the god of yoga, and one of the three primary gods in the Hindu pantheon).

Relaxing daily routine

At Aurovalley, I love the profound calm of the circular meditation hall, but the day’s highlight for me is satsang, which means, “search for truth.” Every day at 11:30 am, until 1 pm lunchtime, Swamiji sits outside the ashram library, under the mango trees, and answers questions. This is the time-honoured method of spiritual instruction in India.

The day’s flow is dictated by the regular activities – a predictable mix of meditation, yoga, satsang, kirtan (chanting) and meal times. Plus, there is personal time for exercise, exploration, writing, healing (Ayurvedic therapies and massage are usually close at hand) – whatever you choose to pursue. The always-vegetarian food is served in a communal dining hall, and you have to clean your own tin thali (plate) afterward. The food is simple and wholesome, filling and satisfying, though perhaps not to a real foodie.

Breakfast is often some kind of wheat bread – roti, paratha or naan – and fruit or dal (lentils), plus tea. Lunch is usually rice and dal, plus salad or fruit or an Indian dessert such as burfi (a solid milk sweet); and dinner is a whole lot like lunch. The food is only very lightly spiced and does not include garlic or onion; and it is extremely well-washed and purified so that even the most delicate foreign tummy can handle it.

Accommodation depends on the ashram. In some ashrams, most people sleep in dorms and share washrooms; in others, you can have a private room or share with just one other person, and each room has its own bathroom. The rooms are very simply furnished, but they have everything you need (unless you need a TV, phone and A/C). The simplicity helps to clear your mind. I particularly love the simple, white rooms at Aurovalley Ashram. They were beautifully designed for maximum flow of sunlight and fresh air, and I feel they are very elegant in their simplicity. Solar panels on the roof even provide hot water showers – a treat!

The rules are simple, too: no meat, alcohol, drugs, cigarettes, outside visitors in the rooms. Some also stipulate no sex, even with your spouse (though not usually at the ashrams that cater to foreigners). Previous yoga or mediation experience is usually not required. The most important thing is sincerity.

When I go to the ashram, I take only the bare minimum, which should include all the toiletries you need, a flashlight, a towel, a shawl or sweater (it can be chilly at night in the mountains), loose cotton clothes, preferably Indian-style (Lululemon spandex just doesn’t cut it), flipflops or sandals, sunscreen, mosquito repellent, a hat, long scarf and oil for dry skin; and books, writing materials and mini-laptop. Even ashrams have WiFi these days!

I know that ashram life is not for everyone, but it sure suits me. I find staying in the ashram to be very healthful and creative, and I make time for it every year.

A few days can do wonders, but a few weeks – even months – can really make a lasting difference in your life.

5 Reasons to Go to Dublin Ireland

I want to go to Dublin Ireland. Many reasons of course, but mostly because my ancestry is largely Irish and I have never been there; and as a writer, I would love to walk in the footsteps of James Joyce, Oscar Wilde, W.B. Yeates and the many other literary giants who lived and wrote in Dublin. Plus … I would love to meet people who share my distinctive round Irish eye sockets and love of talking. My mother always said the Irish were the world’s greatest talkers.

 

1. City of Storytellers

Story telling and writing (and music) is intrinsic to the soul of Ireland and the Irish, and perhaps nowhere more so than Dublin — which is called the City of Literature. It should come as no surprise that the first place I want to visit is the Dublin Writer’s Museum to find out about Dublin sites associated with some of the city’s famous writers. In fact, Dublin was named a UNESCO City of Literature, the fourth city to be honoured with this distinction. Read on for the other four…

2. In the Footsteps of Joyce

I’m actually writing this post on St. Patrick’s Day, but this is not the the day on the calendar of Irish festivities that grabs my interest — no, that would be June 16, Bloomsday. The events of James Joyce’s master work, Ulysses, take place on June 16; and the day is named after the book’s main character, Leopold Bloom.

Every year since 1954, the day has been celebrated by an organized walk along the same route through Dublin that Leopold Bloom took, on June 16, 1904. So, I could literally walk in the footsteps of Joyce — or, at least, one of his characters.

3. Bewley’s Tea and the Grafton Street Cafe

My Irish-heritage grandmother, Nana, lived with us when I was a child and we started having tea parties together from about the time I was four years old. First, she bought me a plastic tea set, and then when I was about six, one made of white china, lavishly decorated with gold trim and scenes from Versailles (I think).

I have been a tea drinker from then until now, and I have had several friends bring me back boxes of Bewley’s tea when they visited Dublin. So, I would definitely make a beeline for the Grafton Street Cafe, which is a heritage building in its own right. The Bewley family has been in the tea trade since 1835.

4. Music, Music, Music

Sinead O’Connor, U2 and The Chieftains are just some of the well-known musicians who hail from Dublin — the city has a very active musical scene. I love Irish music, whether it’s traditional folk (Van Morrison), new age (Enya), rock (U2, The Cranberries, Sinead O’Connor, etc.). I would make it my mission to find the most happening bars and clubs for lively Irish music, old and new.

5. Walking Historical Dublin

Trinity College, the Book of Kells, the bridges over the River Liffey, the Guinness Brewery (yes, it’s historical!), the National Museum — there are so many historical things to see in Dublin, I can imagine spending days just walking around, perhaps with a good map and guidebook or on a tour or perhaps I’ll meet one of those charming, loquacious men that Ireland is famous for (and that my mother warned me about!) and he can show me around.

Kerala, Havana, Bahia Drake Costa Rica and…

 

In December, I began writing a bi-monthly “column” for the Travel+Escape website — which complements the new Canadian TV channel — about immersive travel. Below is a synopsis of my most recent columns.

Exhale at a tropical health spa on the coast of Kerala

I’m lying on a heavy, teak table with my eyes shut, smelling herbal-tinged oil as it heats on a nearby burner and listening to the unfamiliar murmurs of two young women speaking Malayalam. Together, they slap the warmed oil onto my skin and, in perfect rhythm, massage both sides of my body at once. And as their voices begin to sound like Indian Ocean waves lapping the beach, I slip away into a South Indian version of paradise; an oily, wood-scented, tropical state of bliss.

This four-handed massage, called Pizzichili, was prescribed for me by my Ayurvedic doctor at Shinshiva — an Ayurvedic resort on the coast of Kerala. If this is medicine, give me more! Ayurveda is the ancient, time-honoured Indian system of healthcare that seeks to bring the body into a state of balance, and therefore wellness, primarily through the use of diet, herbs and oil massage treatments; and Kerala is the world centre for Ayruveda. Ayurvedic clinics, hospitals and resorts, from the simple to the luxurious, line the coast of this gentle, tropical land, one of India’s two most southern states.

Deep in the Jungle in Costa Rica

It was the boat ride down a remote river, through thick jungle, past an eerie mangrove forest and over crashing, tumultuous waves into the ocean that did it. I felt I had left the world as I knew it behind.

Making it out of the river and into the Pacific Ocean, in a very small, open boat was like passing through a mythical test, and indeed I did think of Odysseus. If you capsized here, you would have to face three terrors: powerful waves that could smash you to pieces against craggy rocks; four-metre crocodiles in the river; or bull sharks in the ocean — for this area, where the fresh water of the river meets the saline of the ocean, is rich feeding ground for crocodiles on one side and sharks on the other.

And that was just the start of my adventure to Bahia Drake – Drake Bay — and the Osa Peninsula, a remote region of southern Costa Rica.

Tom Cruise, lost in Havana … and the real Cuba

A long time ago, when I first started traveling, and Cuba was still a developing destination even to French Canadians, I went on a last-minute vacation with my two best girlfriends to a very basic resort on a pristine beach about one hour from Havana.

It was my first time out of North America. I didn’t really have any measure of comparison due to inexperience, but I could still tell we were on a very down-market vacation package.

This was the trip where I came face-to-face with the reality of economic disparity and with my own identity as a middle class Canadian.

10 Books About India, Because “Eat, Pray, Love” Is Not The Only One

There are two types of people in the world: those who think Shantaram is a great book; and those who think it is a spew of virulent air, driven by the criminal mind and maniacal ego of its Australian pseudo-writer. I guess you can tell which type of person I am. This post is 10 suggestions for books about India that are better than Shantaram.

I tried to read Shantaram when I was living in Delhi, but ended up literally throwing it across the room. I thought it was poorly written and more about the fevered imagination of its writer than about India. In fact, it offers very little insight into India, if you ask me; and the longer I spend in India getting to know it, the more true this statement becomes.

Since that time, however, I’ve read lots and lots of book about India, by Indians and foreigners, and almost all of them are much, much better. Except Eat, Pray, Love. If you actually want to know something about India — rather than about an ego-driven writer — I suggest the following 10 books, in no particular order.

(If you want to learn more about a book, below, hover your cursor over the image; and to buy it, simply click on the image and you will be whisked to the U.S. Amazon site.)

1. A Search in Secret India by Paul Brunton. A cult classic, this book was published in 1934 and it’s about the author’s sincere, strange and ultimately inspiring search for spiritual truth in India. After many false starts, dead-ends and kooky run-ins, he lands at the feet of Sri Ramana Maharishi. Which in itself a metaphor for the spiritual journey. This is the book that introduced Sri Ramana Maharishi to the west (and he still remains one of the greatest Indian saints of the 20th century).

2. Empire of the Soul by Paul William Roberts. This is the book I hope Shantaram readers graduate to read. It is about two lengthy trips journalist Roberts took to India, separated by many years; and about how he reconciles some of the extraordinary experiences he had there. Roberts is known for hard-boiled books about war-torn countries like Iraq, so when he writes about his spiritual awakening, it rings true.

3. Out of India by Ruth Prawer Jhabvala. The introduction to this book of short stories is alone worth the price of the book. It’s hands-down the best piece of writing I have ever read about what it is like to be a foreigner in India. Absolutely priceless. If you recognize her name, it’s because she was the screen-writer for the Merchant-Ivory film productions (including A Passage to India, see #6.)

4. India’s Unending Journey by Mark Tully. Mark Tully was the BBC’s chief correspondent in India for many years. He has the character to overcome his profession’s limitations and admit that the chief thing he learned in India was to be certain only about uncertainty. And he says it’s the most valuable thing he has ever learned.

5. India: A Million Mutinies Now by V.S. Naipul. What can I say? It’s the classic. Personally, I admire this book more than I like it.

6. Passage to India by E.M. Forster. Very recently, the Consul General of India in Toronto — a remarkably cultured woman — told me she thought Forster really captured India in this book. I told her I feel like Fielding. Mutual understanding was firmly established. It was the best book I studied at university, I still remember the discussion about the meaning of the Marabar Caves. The film is good too!

7. Maximum City by Suketu Mehta. This is one of the best books I have read recently. It has an ambitious scope and many small wonderful moments, and seemed Dickensian to me in its attempt to capture the spirit of the times in a big, broiling, magnificent city. This is Bombay (Mumbai): gangsters and hero cops, foot-path poets and down-to-earth movie stars. You will learn a lot more about what Bombay is really about in this book than in Shantaram.

8. Kim by Rudyard Kipling. This is my favourite book of all time. If you’ve never read it, throw out everything you think you know about Kipling, who was the most famous writer of his time. The book follows the story of teenage Kim, son of an Irish immigrant and ‘friend of all the world’, who travels the roads of India with his guru, an elderly Tibetan lama on a spiritual quest for a river of enlightenment. It is unique and uncanny in its ability to absolutely immerse you into the scene and the story. You can feel the oppressive heat of the plains and the crisp air of the mountains. You can imagine Kim’s excitement about rejoining his friend on the road after a stint locked-up at school. You can feel the old man’s pain as his quest seems to elude him, and the love he engenders in Kim, his disciple. And you will be carried away by the transcendent ending.

9. City of Djinns by William Dalrymple. I was torn, not sure which Dalrymple book to put on this list. They are all good, especially Nine Lives. He is a solid as a rock in terms of research, reporting and writing. But this is his first book about India and it’s about Delhi (Dilli), my home-away-from home in India — and in fact, his real home. He lives there now. He has an Indian soul. The book is both a personal narrative about living in India for a year and about the history of Delhi. (And if there’s one thing Delhi has, aside from crowds of people and traffic, it’s history.) It’s by turns informative and funny. I keep intending to find out if International Backside taxi stand really exists. P.S. Dalrymple is the found of the Jaipur Literature Festival.

10. Freedom at Midnight by Larry Collins and Dominique Lapierre. On the stroke of midnight, August 15, 1947, India became free. This is the classic book about the biggest event in modern Indian history: the freedom struggle, partition and birth of a nation. You cannot begin to know or understand modern India if you don’t have a grip on its struggle for independence and the larger-than-life players who made it happen, especially Gandhi, Nehru, Mountbatten and Jinnah. The film Gandhi, directed by Richard Attenborough, gives you a lot of the same information, but this book fills in all the holes.

The Beauty of Indian Writing

 

In honour of the Jaipur Literature Festival, which kicks off on January 24 in Jaipur, India, I am publishing an article I wrote for the Maple Tree Literary supplement about my afternoon with four delightful Indo-Canadian writers.

Jasmine D’Costa sat solidly in her chair, looked at me with clear, wide-open eyes and talked with a sense of authority in her voice about her past as a banker in Mumbai and her present as a writer and editor in Toronto. Across from her, Mayank Bhatt talked about establishing himself as a writer in Canada, with an amiable mix of gentleness and conviction. Author Farzana Doctor listened more than she talked, but when she added something to the conversation, it was carefully considered and spoken in articulate tones, tinged with the formality of academia. Writer and book reviewer Niranjana Iyer, soft-spoken and well-bred, looked like an Indian Audrey Hepburn, and she drew me in with her huge, expressive eyes and the obvious intelligence in her voice. Each of these people is just that, people – unique in their background, outlook and experience.

Jasmine D’Costa is a Catholic from south India who had a successful career in banking before immigrating to Toronto, Canada to begin her career as a writer of short stories (Curry is Thicker than Water) and editor of anthologies (Canadian Voices and Indian Voices). Mayank Bhatt, who is a Gujurati Hindu, is the most recent arrival to North America – he was a journalist in Mumbai and then worked in a trade office; he now has a full-time job as the Executive Director of the Indo-Canada Chamber of Commerce, publishes a blog called Generally About Books and is also working on a novel.

Farzana Doctor was born to Muslim parents of Indian origin in Africa and grew up in Canada; she is gay, she is a psychotherapist and she is the author of two novels (Stealing Nasreen and Six Metres of Pavement). Niranjana Iyer, who told me to call her Nina, is Tamil, but she doesn’t speak the language. She grew up largely in Delhi, attended the prestigious Indian Institute of Management (IIM) in Ahmedabad and later moved to the U.S.A. to study creative writing at university. She now lives in Canada with her neuroscientist husband and three-year-old son and considers herself a global citizen. She writes for many magazines and publishes a book review blog called Brown Paper.

I gathered these writers together to find out about Indo-Canadian writing – and found out the closer you look, the more difficult it is to define. Like India itself, Indo-Canadian writers in Canada are extremely diverse and there is no set pattern of experience; no underlying theme they are collective exploring; no real commonality between them. Except that they are Indian. And after about two hours of discussing their differences, after several glasses of wine and after a feeling of camaraderie developed, the truth came out. They may have different experiences, backgrounds and viewpoints, but they tend to stick together, support each other and help each other out.

And this perhaps is the essence of their Indianness, this tolerance and helpfulness. In spite of a long history of communal violence back home – and also a long history of tolerant pluralism – Christian, Muslim and Hindu sat together in Toronto and talked with trust and freedom, pledging to help promote each other’s books and other writing efforts.

And here’s another thing, articulated simply, clearly and authoritatively by Jasmine: Their voices are Canadian, and an important part of the mosaic of Canadian multiculturalism. This is Canada, too, a tolerant nation made up of diverse peoples – not unlike India itself – though perhaps more so in Toronto, one of the world’s great multicultural cities. All of the ethnicities in Canada can lay claim to this inclusion, but perhaps Indians have a greater share due to their English language skills, their literary tradition, their large numbers (soon to be the largest “ethnic” group in Canada) and the rapid growth of both India’s economy and its profile on the global stage.

These writers have all found an identity in Canada as writers, and whether they are seen as Indian, Canadian or global depends on the prism you look through. The politics of identity became a central theme of the conversation, and how tricky it is to be an “ethnic” writer in Canada; how white, European culture is still considered the mainstream; and about how granting bodies and other organizations supported by the government are bound by CanCon (Canadian content) rules – in an effort to keep the American cultural tsunami at bay.

But being Indian may make it easier than not – Indian writers certainly are prominent in Canada, and especially in Toronto, home to Michael Ondaatje, M.G. Vassanji and Rohinton Mistry. Jasmine and Farzana passed around their books to show the very Indian-looking treatment the covers were given – women in saris, fonts designed to look like devanagari script. Their publishers told them the books would sell better if they looked Indian. For better or worse, the appeal of the exotic is still a draw, and so is the modern, Indian literary tradition.

Mayank exclaimed that they should all be thankful to Manmohan Singh and Salman Rushdie – for Singh reformed the Indian economy and laid the groundwork for the current boom and Rushdie’s success with Midnight’s Children – a book written in English – changed the way the world looked at Indian creativity.

And though it is not politically correct, perhaps they owe a debt of gratitude to Britain too – for along with plundering the country and denigrating it’s native-born citizens, the British Raj left behind a legacy of educational institutions, political and administrative bureaucracy, the train system and English. If you are among the educated elite of India, who are taught English at school, you stand a much better chance of blending in with the globopolis – the predominantly English-speaking, urban-based, global citizens of the world. English may be one of the reasons for the success of Indians – if not of India. And this was a topic of conversation too – that though they all had different mother tongues back in India, they can all speak with each other, and with me, in English.

But even though they speak English, it does not necessarily mean they have lost their cultural identity. These writers seemed very agile at skating along the surface of all of these contradictions, political considerations and attempts at labeling them; and they seemed energized by the excitement of being Indian in the 21^st century. It has been said before that Britain dominated the 19^th century, and America the 20^th, but the 21^st belongs to India. Each of these writers have their own struggles – as all writers these days do, of course – but I felt the excitement and energy of being part of a rising tide. There was a confidence in the room, the confidence born of knowing you have something to say and that you have a good chance of being heard.

Immersive Travel and Finding Your “Soul Culture”

What is immersive travel?

It’s travel that takes you deep into a culture and changes you. Immersive travel can be voluntourism, solo travel, or long-term travel. It can be embarking on a spiritual path or a going to a health & wellness retreat. Or it can simply be an attitude.

It’s about being open to a new culture, learning from it, and letting it change your ideas, beliefs and assumptions about life and the world. If you go on a trip, and see things differently when you get back home — then, you have probably experienced immersive travel. Here’s a synopsis of my first three columns.

Are you a tourist or a traveler?

If you have men who will only come if they know there is a good road, I don’t want them, I want men who will come if there is no road at all.” ~ David Livingstone

There’s a difference between a traveler and a tourist. Maybe I’m old-fashioned: I prefer reading to television; trains to jets; long sojourns to quick getaways. I love reading stories about travelers who went abroad for months, even years, and became completely transformed. Like Ibn Batutta. He left his homeland, Morocco, to make a hajj (pilgrimage) to Mecca in 1325AD that should have taken 16 months. He didn’t return home for 24 years.

In total, Ibn Battuta traveled for 30 years. He covered most of Africa, Europe, the Middle East, India and Southeast Asia, all the way to China, for a total of 75,000 miles (121,000 km) – a mileage record that held for more than 400 years. Batutta recorded his travels in a book called The Rihla (Journeys) of Ibn Battuta.

I think of the 19th century as the golden age of travel. People packed steamer trunks and ventured out into the world before there was any kind of tourism infrastructure. These people had adventures!

Three hotels that offer the comfort of luxury with the joy of cultural immersion

When you think of immersive travel, you may think of living in a local’s house, eating home-cooked food and following the family’s daily rhythm. I do like staying in small guesthouses and homestays when I travel, but I also enjoy finding higher-end accommodation that tries to preserve the spirit of cultural authenticity.

The three hotels featured here ― the Bhakti Kutir in Goa, the Windamere Hotel in Darjeeling and the Uma Paro in Bhutan ― each combine the best of both worlds, the comfort of luxury with the joy of cultural immersion.

Have you found your soul culture?

There are many ways to experience “immersive travel.” You can travel somewhere to live for a time, or volunteer. You can study the culture, learn the language or master the arts. But the type of immersive travel I am writing about today cannot be engineered. You cannot make it happen.

I call it finding your “soul culture,” and it’s like falling in love. It just happens.

Sometimes, people discover a corner of the world where they feel most at home. It is often in a country and culture far away, and far different, from their own, and it doesn’t make a lot of rational sense.

People who found their soul culture always intrigued me. And, I admit, I was a bit jealous. Though I had traveled to many parts of the world, and lived in Tokyo, I had never felt that special affinity, and didn’t know if I ever would. Then, in late 2004, at about the same time the tsunami struck Southeast Asia, a personal tsunami of sorts hit me.

I was trying to recover from a series of devastating losses that had left me feeling flattened, and was enrolled in a yoga teacher training program. That’s when the idea of going to India for six months grabbed hold of me. Throughout that time period, I discovered that India is my soul culture.

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