My Favourite Swim Spots (2)

I recently went to see the extraordinary and beautifully rendered movie, The Life of Pi. The film is adapted from the eponymous book written by Yann Martel. The protagonist in this story within a story is the curiously named, Piscine Molitor Patel or Pi. It turns out that Piscine is named in honour of a pool which was a social hub in 1930's Paris: A pool which Pi's uncle visited and fell in love with. The uncle's love of swimming got me thinking about all the places where I have swam and how these various pools which I have visited have had an impact on me.

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In the years following high school, while deciding on the direction which my academic life would take and trying to cope with the disappointments of a lost relationship, I began to have dreams of swimming. I don't want to over-play these dreams, because they were not all that frequent, nor were they all memorable. In fact, I can only recall a handful of these dreams: Chief among these was a dream of me gliding powerfuly and effortlesly underwater. At some point in the dream, I approach a large boulder on the edge of an underwater cliff, I kick it and the boulder rolls off the edge and disappears out of sight into the darkness. So, for what it's worth, this imagined pool of water also holds a special place in my mind as a pool that I once swam in with the strength and conviction which escaped me in reality.

While studying at the University of Toronto, I signed up with a drive-away service to get to Florida on the cheap. The deal was, I would drive a car to Florida usually for snowbirds for a hundred bucks and gas money. The snowbirds would fly ahead, I would meet them in their town and hand off the car to them. The cars going south were mostly luxury vehicles which always made the drive down easy. The motels along the highway were in surprisingly good shape and, even more surprisingly, only cost around twenty or thirty dollars. It was on my second trip down to Florida that I stayed at a hostel in Miami Beach for a few nights. Each day I would have a leisurely breakfast and then stroll a few blocks to a small grocery store, load up on some fruits and vegetables, a drink or two and some Marlboro Lights and head to the beach for the day. Miami Beach, at least close to the ocean, has not changed much since those days. I would lie on the beach until late in the afternoon, swim sporadically in the ocean and munch on treats with not a worry in the world. Later, I would use the public transit to make a foray into Miami to a shopping mall, gallery, or to catch a movie. Swimming in South Beach, who could not love this, at any age?

Back home in Ontario, my love of canoeing, especially into the interior of Algonquin Park, has always dovetailed with my love of swimming. I have gone into the interior (solo), with friends, with my wife and more recently, with my son. Aside from the experience of camping and canoeing, each trip to Algonquin has always carried memorable moments of swimming. Chief among the joys of swimming in a northern lake is the obligatory swim au naturel. This last summer, however, the fact that an aggressive snapping turtle called our bit of the lake home, made skinny dipping that much more, um, novel.

A natural extension of my love of swimming above water was to learn the skill of scuba diving. On one of my three trips to that most slothful of all Caribbean nations, The Bahamas, I went diving to a reef near Freeport. This was six years ago and, despite the fact that I have gone diving off the coast of Zanzibar, was

the most memorable dive I have ever had. At a depth of 30-40 feet, the water was glass clear and the reef was full of colourful life. Best of all, Reef Sharks were plentiful and although the ones I spotted on this occasion were only 5-6 feet long, they were impressive enough in their ability to effortlessly glide with speed around the dive group. Scary impressive.

In 2009, I visited India with my trusty cohort, Anwar Sumar. Yes, that Anwar Sumar! The temperatures all across India were consistently at thirty celcius and above, and swimming ( ironically, a very humid sport) was always a welcome escape. In New Delhi, in Mumbai, Goa and Bhubaneshwar. Yes, that Bhubaneshwar! What Bhubaneshwar? The same Bhubaneshwar no one has ever heard of. A city in the eastern reaches of the sub-continent, close to Calcutta; a city full of Hindu temples built in ages past and still in use today.
It was in Bhubaneshwar, after a long day spent chatting with people I will likely not see again and was, in retrospect, glad to be rid of, I spent the late afternoon hunting down a gallery in town and then returning back to our hotel with my loot. Exhausted, I left the hotel room to grab a coffee and a slice of cake, as it began to drizzle in the central courtyard. I hunkered under the sun umbrella and sipped my coffee, ate cake, had a smoke and waited out the rain. I got my chance to swim a half hour later in the infinity pool pictured here. The pool was all mine and I thoroughly enjoyed treading as gently as I could so as not to disturb the glassy appearance of the water. A great moment that I still remember as clearly as, well, water.


Now we're into the home stretch...The Taj Mahal Palace and Towers is a 105 year old heritage hotel located at Apollo Bunder opposite the Gateway of India. A hotel which describes itself as "offering luxurious rooms and suites with sea and city views spread out over the traditionally built Palace wing and the modern tower wing."
Picture if you will, another courtyard: This one has high walls crawling with tropical greenery and large (palm trees) and small (no clue) plants all around. To one side of the ovalish pool are tables and chairs and further in a covered-but-open-to-the-surroundings-restaurant occupied, on this night, by not one person. The lighting is mostly coming from inside the pool with a few yellowish globes around the pool. It is late in the evening and the blaring of car horns, car engines, motorcyles can be heard in a muted way just on the other side of the walls. If you stood atop the walls on the street side you would see the The Gateway of India, leading to the Indian Ocean only just across the street. And there I am, half naked at the snazziest of all hotels in India. Swimming around in that pool on that particular night with no one but me in the pool....the feeling was pure bliss and I savoured it and tried to fix the scene in memory knowing fully that this was one of those once in a lifetime moments which I could never re-visit or re-create.

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My Favourite Swim Spots (1)

I recently went to see the extraordinary and beautifully rendered movie, The Life of Pi. The film is adapted from the eponymous book written by Yann Martel. The protagonist in this story within a story is the curiously named, Piscine Molitor Patel or Pi. It turns out that Piscine is named in honour of a pool which was a social hub in 1930's Paris: A pool which Pi's uncle visited and fell in love with. The uncle's love of swimming got me thinking about all the places where I have swam and how these various pools which I have visited have had an impact on me.

My very first memory of swimming is from when I was about 8 years old. My father would take me and my youngest sister to the pool of a hotel in central Dar-es-Salaam. It was here that I first learned to swim and then progressed to diving off a board. (My father grew up in Yemen and has often recounted tales of swimming in the sea and being stung my jellyfish and other creatures). The hotel which we frequented was, I believe, The Agip. Often after our swim we would retreat to the shadiest part of the poolside restaurant and order what seemed like a luxurious lunch. Sometimes liver and onions and other times egg salad sandwiches.

A few years after my experience at the Agip Hotel's pool, my family and I arrived in Canada. I was ten years old at the time and we lived in a condominium which had the de rigeur swimming pool and sauna. My father and I would often go down to this pool and then end by warming up in the sauna. For many years after these initial swims, I frequented the pool: Sometimes in the summer with my friends and later, during a time of turmoil in my life, on my own, daily and obsessively. It was here that I began to use the pool to do lengths, oggle middle-aged women and watch the snow-flakes outside while I swam in the relative warmth of the pool. It was also here that I began to close my eyes and float on my back and, for a few moments, exist without effort. I also began to execute a move: the move that involves spinning in the water. The spin always gives me a sense of being a part of the water...it is a move of pure contentment, sensual, luxuriating.

Later, during my high school years, a few of my friends and I would gather our money and rent a cottage up north for a week. It was at the first of these cottages on Lake Redstone that another memorable moment in my swimming life appeared. At Lake Redstone, we fished and swam (someone must have cooked because no one died) and we fished off the boat provided by the owner.

One afternoon I went out in the row boat with a mask and snorkel. Memory being what it is, I remember it as being the quintessential summer afternoon in cottage country. I rowed the boat along the shore, left the oars in the water to slow the boat's drift and stuck my masked and snorkeled head over the back edge of the boat and watched. The image of sunlight streaming along the bottom of the shoreline is still clear in my mind. Huge tree trunks, massive boulders and tiny fish flitting about, while the sunlight painted various corners: now here, then there. It really was idyllic. And, being naturally sentimental, I still think about that cottage, on that lake and on that beautiful afternoon.

Next: Swimming at the Taj Hotel in Mumbai and sooo much, much more!!.

 

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