Off the beaten track

I KNEW there were places on Earth where technology was completely absent and the mobile phone we all take for granted was an alien device, unfathomable to the human mind that you could hear the voice of another person in a totally different location coming out of the receiver, right into your ear.

Now, I knew such places existed of course, completely untouched by the modern world and the pushy materialistic values of city life, but it was such a novel experience to visit such a place myself.

About five years ago, I hiked with a Frenchman and super-adventurous friend from Hong Kong into a remote stone village near Dali, China.

The first thing that struck me was how beautiful this village was, situated at the foothills of the Himalayas, seemingly perched on the edge of the world with a panoramic view money couldn’t buy. I stumbled into an old man’s home, not realising I was in his ‘living room’ as the entire village had no doors.

I apologetically shuffled out of his house mumbling, “So sorry to disturb you…” but he just stared open-mouthed, over his pipe, making me feel like my unexpected visit was as foreign and exciting as a UFO descending upon his village.

I then walked into a school and curiously poked my face into a classroom.

The teacher did not see me but the children did. As I was leaving the compound, the entire class scrambled out into the open courtyard to simply stare at all of us, until the teacher chased them back into the classroom. The truth is that I was as fascinated by them as they were about us.

For instance, I presumed no one knew the exact time of day it was because no one wore a wristwatch. By contrast, I can’t even count the number of times in a day I’m checking what time it is.

As I meandered through this charming village on foot, it occurred to me that families had to basically trust each other because their homes had no doors.

I guess there was nothing of great value to steal but nevertheless, it would be unthinkable for us city dwellers to live without a lock or reliable alarm system, let alone no door at all. Most of us were brought up not to trust any strangers yet in this village, we were invited to join the head monk for tea. This quiet and well-respected monk ruled firmly and peacefully over the entire village. With just a few friendly nods and even fewer words spoken, made for one of the most therapeutic afternoons I’ve ever spent doing such a simple task.

Life was lived at such a leisurely pace in this village and as I absorbed the incredible view of the mountains all around me, the saying, “Stop and smell the roses” came to mind because life can pass us by when we live it at a frantic pace.

This is something I’m definitely guilty of when I’m running late for a shoot with my Twitter alerts going off and my heart hammering in my chest in panic because I’m stuck in one of KL’s insane bumper-to-bumper traffic jams.

It was a real eye-opener visiting this village because it’s not every day you see people living life in such a simple fashion where having a solid roof over your head with rice in your food bowl meant you had enough to live. They did not compete for the latest gadget or crave for the new iPhone 4s because they were unaware of its existence and seemed perfectly content with their lives.

Though the thought of this humble village undergoing such drastic change makes me wince, I realise that change is inevitable. Information in this day and age is like an unstoppable force, which must be shared, not suppressed, bringing practically every ‘village’ on Earth together through the amazing invention of today’s World Wide Web.

However, I can only hope that the innocent children I met whose eyes lit up in wonder at the smallest things wouldn’t become hardened and jaded by the urban world obsessed by what it must have because it strives to be set apart from the group of “have-nots.”