Tag: india

Reflecting on Daily Life: My First Journaling Experience

February 9, 2026

Digital media often invades privacy, or should I say always. Ads for shoes, books, and cars follow online searches. Banners even remind me to journal (writing down daily thoughts, feelings and experiences). I’ve never done this before but yesterday was both challenging and interesting and decided to put it to writing.

Yesterday was challenging because the garage door would not open. Both cars were locked in, leaving us immobile with no public transit nearby. It took time to discover the problem—the spring was broken. Bottom line: I couldn’t get the 2010 Mazda3 to a repair shop for an appointment. The car needed a diagnosis for a knocking noise when turning right, and the brakes were pulsating.

I tried to disengage the door from the lift engine and just push it up. Because the spring was broken, the door was too heavy for me to lift. I used an 8-foot-long 2×4 stud as a lever but still could not lift it. A neighbor came over to help me. Together, we raised the garage door and put a stud under it to keep it from closing. I managed to drive the car to the repair shop, arriving late for my appointment.

Addressing the garage door issue promptly was important, as an open garage without cars inside can jeopardize security. Once I managed to drive out, I called the repair service, and fortunately, they had time in the afternoon to come over to fix it. This was an unanticipated and unwelcome expenditure, adding to the day’s complexity; I got lost driving to the garage even with my GPS on. I took an Uber taxi home.

Yesterday’s other event that made an impression on me involved the Uber driver and the two garage door technicians—all were recent immigrants. It made me wonder: are most service workers in Canada immigrants? While my sample was small, I found it interesting that all of them I met in one day were newcomers.

In halting English, the Uber driver related that he came from Cameroon 8 months ago; he was French speaking. This was his first winter in Canada. I gathered that he had three children under 10 years of age, and that his wife worked as well; they needed two incomes for the family to live. Driving a cab gave Yves, the driver, the opportunity to get home when the children needed him.

He could not find employment in Cameroon in his field, food processing, and immigrated to Italy, where his wife was already living. There, however, he felt that Italians were too close-knit and would not embrace foreigners. For example, he said he never saw a black bus driver in Milan. So, they decided to come to Canada and arrived last summer. On this day, the temperature was minus 20 degrees Celsius or minus 4 degrees Fahrenheit yesterday, a huge climatic difference from Cameroon.

I also had interesting conversations with the two technicians who came to fix the garage door in the aafternoon. The lead technician was from Punjab, India. With his Punjabi accent, he explained the meaning of ‘Punjab’ to me; it means ‘five rivers’ in Punjabi. He also talked about the partition of India while instructing the other repairman, who identified himself as a Palestinian.

Talking with the Palestinian, I learned that he grew up in Jordan but never goes to Gaza, where he has relatives, because of the Israeli road checks. In spite of carrying a Canadian passport, whenever he tried to cross into Gaza, the Israeli soldiers harassed him. So, he no longer visits. On leaving, he advised me to oil the moving parts of the garage door a few times a year and showed me the product he used, which is available at Home Depot. I never thought of oiling the garage door before, a learning experience.

Meeting three immigrants prompted me to reflect on Canada’s diversity. Statistics show that 1 in 4 Canadians is a first-generation immigrant, and another 17% are second-generation. Over 40% of the population has recent immigrant roots—it’s a remarkable diversity. I would not be surprised to find Canada to be the most diverse country in the world.

Late afternoon, I called the repair shop to check on my car. I was shocked to learn their huge estimate to make the car “safe” again. However, after discussing it with the mechanic and hearing his detailed explanation, I felt confident in his recommendation. I realized I had not had the car repaired for years, I thought it was indestructible.

I had to decide whether to choose repairs, knowing that more issues might arise soon, or consider buying a new/used one. First, I thought it was time to trade up. However, I reconsidered; the suggested repairs could extend the car’s use for another year or two. I have spent nothing on this car for years, and I liked the gearshift; they do not make gearshift cars anymore.

Reflecting on journaling, I do not expect every day to be as eventful as yesterday, worthy of journaling. Writing the journal required time and thought. It made me realize the importance of maintenance and discovered the impact of immigration on Canada via direct experience. Some days may be less striking, but journaling can still offer value.

The Allure of Discovery Trips: Why We Travel to Discover

February 5, 2026

We travel not just for leisure, but for discovery. At a recent lunch, friends talked about the journeys they hope to take before age or health makes such trips impossible. This made me wonder: why does traveling hold such appeal? I am not thinking of holidays or beach escapes, but of trips to countries unknown to us—adventures I call discovery trips.

Discovery trips offer a sense of freedom. Packing minimally—a suitcase and a backpack for daily excursions, I leave behind daily commitments. Far from home, it feels liberating not to worry about bills or routine chores like taking out the garbage. In unfamiliar countries, every day offers discovery: meeting new people, sampling local dishes, observing architecture, and learning to navigate local buses. Conversations with locals often become both enjoyable and necessary as we find our way.

Travel also offers an education. Seeing things with new eyes becomes inevitable. The visible poverty in India, for example, places North America’s general wellness into sharp relief. Comparing Ottawa’s traffic to maneuvering through downtown Dhaka, Bangladesh, showed me how minor our own traffic woes are in comparison.

Before these trips, I research our destination. After returning, I expand on what I’ve learned. I once knew about the Indian caste system in theory, but witnessing it firsthand deepened my understanding of its implications.

The memory of an incident at Kolkata’s airport remains vivid. A well-dressed man suddenly placed his suitcases in front of ours as we waited in a long line for x-ray inspection. My temper flared, and I pushed his suitcase aside, firmly telling him we had arrived much earlier than he had. He made no argument—perhaps because we were foreigners. That experience prompted me to return home and delve into the history and evolution of India’s caste system.

There was also the night our hosts in Dhaka took us to their favorite restaurant. When they ordered goat brains during a period of mad cow disease in England, curiosity mingled with courtesy. We ate. The dish resembled scrambled eggs, though spiced differently.

Each trip required us to set aside our Canadian routines. We engaged all our senses with local culture, cuisine, and people. I took no notes at the time, yet I now realize that relying on memory allowed me to reflect and better recall details that differ from our own way of life.

Discovering Rajasthan: Bollywood and Traditional Thali Experiences

September, 23, 2025

He said Rajasthan. A young man from Rajasthan offered landscaping services at my door.  A wonderful place that we visited a few years ago with a guide, Shyaam. The memories that popped up overwhelmed me and I engaged in a discussion with the fellow at the door about the desert and the havelis in his home state. One highlight of our trip was Jaipur.

Jaipur, the capital of Rajasthan, is a city with a population exceeding two million. The drive from Agra took more than six hours. On the way, we stopped to have a thali lunch. They served it on a large metal plate (they also call the plate a thali), on which they arranged many small dishes around the edge, filled with ingredients such as yogurt, dal, vegetables, and chutney. Rice and chapati went in the middle of the thali dish. Eating was done with your fingers; these highway restaurants had a sink at one end of the room where you washed your hands before and after eating. Shyaam explained that the idea behind thali was to offer six different flavors: sweet, salt, bitter, sour, astringent, and spicy on one plate. According to Indian food customs, a proper meal should perfectly balance all these flavors. I was unsure what perfect balance meant among flavors, but we enjoyed the meal and improved our eating skills with our fingers.

The highlight of our stay in Jaipur was seeing and experiencing a Bollywood movie at the Raj Mandir Cinema. The movie house was a large circular building similar to an opera house, where there must have been at least one thousand seats, all occupied, quite a contrast to the smaller theaters we are used to in Canada, which are hardly ever filled.

The film had a cute and typical storyline: a boy falls in love with a girl who rejects him. Both the boy’s and the girl’s families reject romance, and the boy loses sleep, his job, and upsets his family. There are fights between the boy and the girl’s friends in various locations where the boy gets beaten up, but his disheveled hair and clothing are still picture-worthy. The girl’s and the boy’s relatives try to stop the relationship. Then the girl makes a telephone call, after which she disappears. Boy tracks down the baddies and rescues the girl who cries. There were singing and dancing events in various locations, but ultimately, the girl falls for the boy, and the relatives decide the boy is not so bad. The story ends with a large wedding with lots of singing and dancing. This storyline is, apparently, quite typical of Bollywood movies.

What I found more interesting than the movie was how the audience reacted to the scenes with clapping, singing, approving comments, and a loud reception. There was cheering when the boy enticed the girl and booing when the villains lost fistfights. At the wedding at the movie’s end, the entire audience was on their feet, cheering. It was a genuine experience in audience participation and quite a contrast with what I am familiar with, where even people with a cough are shushed by the other moviegoers.

We stayed at the Bissau Palace. The descendants of the royal family ran the hotel/palace (and lived on-site), and the hotel was one of the very few in Jaipur recognized by Indian authorities as a genuine Heritage Hotel. Set back from the iron gates within a village-like compound, it featured a temple, shops and a sizeable pool. The exterior of this century-old building needed some paint and maintenance, but the ramshackle look added to the charm; in fact, renovations would ruin the vibe. But our room was faultless and spotless, featuring hand-painted ceilings, lead-light windows (decorative glass supported by lead cames), and old-fashioned wooden furniture. And the food was native Indian to our liking.

Immigrant Experiences: Inspiring Stories Amidst Challenges in Canada

Septermber 21, 2025

Many Canadians believe that the significant influx of immigrants in recent years has contributed to a shortage of housing units and overwhelmed healthcare services in the country. Since 2021, four million people have arrived in Canada, mostly temporary workers, students, but also refugees, economic migrants, and family members of Canadians.

I understand why many Canadians’ views on immigration have turned negative. However, I enjoy interacting with recent immigrants and discussing their reasons, as well as their plans, for coming to Canada. Let me provide some examples.

When I dropped my car off at the garage, a Lyft driver came to take me home. In a cheerful voice, he asked about my day and engaged me in a friendly conversation, inquiring about what I did. Listening to his accent, I asked him where he was from. He told me he came from Somalia eight years ago and now has a family with young children. His ambition is to establish a business here. He is the kind of person we need in Canada; in fact, all countries would benefit from having young and ambitious individuals like him.

When my car was ready, the garage sent another Lyft driver to pick up my car. Not surprisingly, he was also an immigrant, this time from Rwanda. He came to Canada a year ago and proudly drove a brand-new vehicle, which he mentioned he had bought for cash. He was able to do that by working seven days a week, an astounding achievement in my opinion.

I learned from the driver, Olivier, that he preferred Lyft over Uber, where he had previously worked. Although he had a French name, he did not speak French. He explained that Rwanda was a Belgian colony before gaining independence, which is why many people in the country have French names. After completing his university studies, he went to Belgium to pursue a master’s degree. He ended up staying in Europe for five years, living in England and later obtaining a second master’s degree in Poland. I was surprised to hear this and asked him if he spoke Polish. He clarified that the university program he attended was conducted in English.

From our conversation, Olivier appeared to be a loner, with only a high school friend in Ottawa. He confided in me that he is 33 years old, hopes to start a family, but working seven days a week leaves him little time for socializing and meeting potential partners. In addition to his driving job, he also works part-time at night for a Belgian company, another ambitious immigrant who would be welcomed in most countries.

I should also mention the young man from India who came to fertilize my lawn. He was busy working his Weedman route in the neighborhood but took a few minutes to chat with me when I asked how he liked his job. Although fertilizing keeps him occupied during the summer, he mentioned that he needs employment during the winter months. He plans to enter sales with the company, but he finds the challenge of sales to be significant, as he needs to make at least ten sales or identify leads each day. That’s not an easy task these days, especially when people tend to prefer a do-it-yourself approach.

Engaging in conversations with recent immigrants is both inspiring and motivating, and it has led me to reflect on the richness of the immigrant experience —a perspective I hold dear, having been an immigrant myself.

The sense of satisfaction that comes from adapting successfully to a new country is immense. During the phase of acculturation, individuals face challenges that feel overwhelming. I arrived in Canada with no language skills, no material possessions, and a total lack of knowledge of Canadian culture. To adapt to my new country, I grabbed any available jobs to improve my language skills, earn some money, and learn local customs.

In my first job, I carried furs at an auction for furriers, where they bid on various furs. A memorable moment arrived when the furriers tipped me, and I responded by telling them I only did my job and didn’t accept tips. This response earned me some strange looks. It didn’t take long for me to realize that tipping for good service is standard practice in North America, while it was nonexistent in communist countries like Hungary.

Other jobs followed. I washed dishes at a hospital and later traveled with a survey crew, doing machete work and drafting. On my last day with the survey crew, I overheard my team’s plan to pull down my pants and stick me in an anthill. Fortunately, I managed to escape before they could grab me; my language skills had improved to the extent that I could understand whispering.

To further improve my language skills, I accepted a job with a California company selling Collier’s encyclopedia. It involved knocking on doors and presenting the value of having the encyclopedia in the small towns around Vancouver, BC. I did not last long. I appreciated meeting those who welcomed me, but many older attendees, perhaps lonely, saw my presentation as an opportunity to socialize without planning to make a purchase.  

My early job experiences have significantly contributed to the development of my language skills and self-confidence over time, leading me to pursue a university education.

In summary, the sudden increase in immigration overwhelmed healthcare services and contributed to a housing shortage. And it made immigrants less welcome. But talking with recent immigrants is usually uplifting and inspiring. Before forming an opinion on the pros and cons of immigration, I strongly encourage you to engage in conversations with them.

Udaipur’s Heritage: Lake Pichola Hotel Experience

March 11, 2025

The Lake Pichola Hotel

Shyaam, our guide, had reserved a room at the Lake Pichola Hotel in Udaipur, Rajasthan. This opulent heritage hotel, formerly Piplia Haveli, was built in the eighteenth century as a private residence for the Jagirdars (nobility) of Thikana Piplia. The hotel’s corridors were adorned with royalty images, illustrating Udaipur’s rich history and property. The owner of the Lake Pichola Hotel is a descendant of the rulers of Udaipur and has taken over the management of this heritage hotel.

Our large, comfortable room faced Lake Pichola and opened onto a balcony with windows all around. The balcony was furnished only with sumptuous pillows, reminiscent of harem rooms we had seen in pictures; it looked incredibly inviting after a long drive. We relaxed on the cushions, enjoying the beautiful views of the lake, the Udaipur Palace across the water, and the Oberoi Hotel, where James Bond’s “Octopussy” was filmed. As we sipped our drinks, we watched women at the lakeside washing laundry, a stark reminder of the contrasts between wealth and poverty in India.

According to Oxfam, seventy-three percent of the wealth generated in 2017 went to the top one percent of the population. The number of billionaires increased from nine in 2000 to over one hundred in 2017. I reflected on these numbers, but seeing poor people washing clothes in the lake opened my eyes.

We met our guide, Shyaam, in the hotel dining room, where authentic Indian food was served. By then, we were running low on rupees, and many of the smaller stores we visited either did not accept dollars or charged exchange rates that seemed exorbitant. We asked Shyaam where we could exchange our U.S. dollars for rupees. Although he did not mention any ATMs or banks, he suggested a contact of his who offered money exchange services. It sounded dubious, but he claimed we would get the best exchange rate from this contact. We decided to take a chance on his offer, partly because we trusted Shyaam, who worked with the travel company Intrepid, and partly because we didn’t see any other options.).

The next day, we walked up the street to an office address and entered a small room on the main floor. Some people were working in the back office. We sat in the waiting room, hoping that Shyaam had indeed arranged a meeting with his contact, the money changer. We waited, uncertain of what to expect, until a dapper, well-dressed gentleman in a suit and tie, carrying a briefcase, entered the room. He asked if we were Shyaam’s clients, and when we confirmed that we were, he set down his briefcase. He then inquired how much money we wanted to convert and informed us of the exchange rate he offered. It was a better rate than the banks charged, and our only concern was whether his money was legitimate or counterfeit.

The money changer seemed honest, so we decided to exchange some currency, although not as much as we had initially planned, to be cautious in case the bills were counterfeit. He examined our dollars individually, selecting only the ones in excellent condition without tears. After calculating the equivalent amount in rupees, he opened his briefcase filled with rupees, counted out a stack for us, and handed it over. There was no official receipt, and he left immediately after the transaction. I remain uncertain about whether this market activity was legitimate in Udaipur. I wondered if it might have been part of a black market; India likely has various money exchange options. Another thought that crossed my mind was whether Shyaam was involved in this exchange—whether he was assisting clients as a tour guide for a major travel company or if he was part of the transaction and receiving payoffs. However, we had no issues with the money the money changer provided us.

With our newly acquired rupees, we walked toward the center of Udaipur, climbing a hill in search of the famous miniature paintings, sized 4″ x 12″. This art form originated in the sixteenth century, with artists creating these paintings as memoirs for kings, capturing important historical events. The paintings depict vignettes of a king’s life from the past, and even today, they are created and sold as decorative art.

The artists use a meticulous process to manufacture pigments and colors from scratch. We stopped at several stores to admire these paintings. Unable to resist, we decided to purchase a few as souvenirs. They were beautiful and unique to Udaipur and easy to transport due to their small size. Although we could have bought them unframed for easier transport, we opted for framed pieces, which cost much less than a frame at home. 

As we left the store, we spotted an elephant coming up the hill toward us. A mahout was riding on the elephant, sitting more than ten feet off the ground. I quickly grabbed my camera to take a picture. However, as soon as the mahout noticed me, he began protesting and waved both hands, trying to stop me from taking the shot. He made the international gesture of asking for money by rubbing his fingers together with his palm facing upwards. Even if I had wanted to give him money, I couldn’t have reached him, and it was clear he wasn’t planning to stop the elephant or dismount.

Suddenly, the elephant started to pee, creating a river streaming down the asphalt. I couldn’t believe the volume that came out! I felt grateful to be wearing closed-toe sandals at that moment. I noticed some tourists walking behind the elephant, trying to capture the scene on camera, but maintaining a safe distance to avoid the chaos. All of them were wearing open-toed sandals. I felt sorry for them but was reminded once again why open-toed footwear isn’t the best choice for sightseeing.

Our wanderings in Udaipur took us to the City Palace, an imposing structure with a 250-meter frontage and several entrances. This multi-level complex stands 30 meters high and is beautifully situated on a hilltop. The upper floors overlook Lake Pichola, providing excellent views.

The palace was constructed entirely from marble and granite, with construction beginning in 1576 and continuing for four centuries. It is an interconnected complex made up of various palaces built by successive dynasties.

I remember how we had to navigate many staircases to explore the building, which left us feeling quite exhausted. However, it was a remarkable historical and cultural journey. We admired stunning wall paintings, intricate murals, exquisite marble work, detailed inlay work, and remarkable architectural features, including cupolas, domes, towers, and balconies.

After a few weeks on the tour, I felt overwhelmed by the many palaces and forts I had seen. By this point, I preferred conversing with local people rather than admiring centuries-old artifacts, no matter how beautiful or historically significant they were. I found discussions with tuk-tuk drivers about their families fascinating, even though many did not speak English. While I still appreciated history, I realized traveling became much more fulfilling when interacting with the local residents.

The Lake Pichola Hotel.