What a strange feeling after not using my mobile phone for the last two months and suddenly surrounded by people with ipod, mobile phones, laptop, blackberry etc... at the Miami airport. Not only do these people feel the need to be constantly 'in touch with the world', but they also think that everyone around them have to share their agitation by talking in such a volume as if the planes are actually taking off next to them.
No wonder yoga and meditation is increasingly popular in cities where people feel the need to escape and are willing to pay too much for it - all for the sake of 'getting in touch with yourself and your surrounding'. Maybe all they need is to turn off these gadgets once in a while and actually 'detox' their minds instead. Technology is great but it certainly should not be dictating our lives in a sense that we do not recognize ourselves anymore without the presence and constant bombardment of advertisements for the latest gadgets. What is the difference between drugs and these materialistic processions which does nothing but to give us a hallucination of our own self-worth?
I did not recall any museum exhibitions about Romans or Greeks discussing philosophy on their cell phones in the piazzas or indigenous tribes using computers for directions to expand their empires. Yet history had proved that people were much more in tune with themselves when they are close to the natural environment. It is when my evening companion is nothing but the tranquility of the mountains, the sound of the streams and millions of stars above, and my neighbor and roommates are animals and insects, that I feel the closest to myself. The precious moment of self-revelation that no yoga or meditation can achieve for me.
Life should be simple and enjoyable. Time after time I had encountered the most genuine and down-to-earth locals in my trip. The less they have, the more they give. Children on Uro (floating islands) say farewell to us by singing songs in at least 6 different languages including Japanese. Children from my host family on Amantani island displayed their gratitude after I gave them each a color pencil by holding my hands and trying to tickle me. While those in Parismina tried to teach me spanish with picture books, paint my nails, fetched me sme fruits that look like mashmellow from the trees and tried to read the page numbers from my novel. What more can I ask for?