High tech Buddhism: how to get out of the infamous video-scrolling-loop

The debate over the effects of smartphones on society and human mental health has been ongoing for quite some time. 
The situation has obviously gotten worse in the last 2-3 years. Buses and trains are full of people who seem to be staring hypnotized at the screen of their phone, swiping their finger on it now and then, just like zombies. 
New techniques, such as continuous video scrolling loops, have been introduced. They target some well known weak points of our psyche and they promote the production of some hormones that give us pleasure. If you feel guilty after having wasted hours watching some silly videos non-stop, well do not worry: it's not your fault. You're being manipulated like a lab mouse. Fortunately (maybe) we're not mice, and we do have methods to preserve our mental independence, if we want to. So if you are happy with your hours of trance like state you can ignore the rest of this post. But if you want to get out of this mental trap you might find what follows useful. 
The solution is actually grounded in some very old ideas. Good old Siddhartha Gautama, aka the great Buddha, had a very similar insight when he was trying to find a way out of our obsessive thinking about past and future, that distracts us from the only moment that matters: the present one. That solution is called MINDFULNESS.
Let’s clarify the problem first. 

The least artistic way to promote art - Shanghai, China (with photos)

The former power plant converted to a museum

Thanks to the astonishing high-speed railway system that China has implemented in a matter of few years Shanghai can be reached from Suzhou in less than thirty minutes by train. The first time I covered that distance in the opposite direction, back in 2005, the cattle convoy trip I traveled with took almost twice as long, and the atmosphere was way more picturesque. Today our journey's goal is the "Power Station of Art" museum, where the "15 minutes eternal" exhibition, entirely dedicated to Andy Warhol, will be held until July 28.
The Power Station of Art, as the name suggests, is a real power plant, no longer in use, converted to a museum in a very interested way. A fascinating structure and a well realized project indeed. One of those works that nowadays are built (in a reasonable time) only in China, the only country that can afford a large number of almost non repayable investments just for status or strategic reasons. You can take a look at some of the details in the photos I'm publishing below. You won't find any of Warhol's works though, as I was one of the few visitors who respected the "no-photo" rule. Besides the event venue I obviously liked the exhibition itself. The thing that surprised me the most though was the entrance fee: 20 RMB, equivalent to two and a half euros! And I'm talking about full priced tickets here, not the discounted ones for students or retired people. Although the exhibition has already been opened for one and a half months and this is not likely to be the place where the American artist's fame reaches its peak there were a lot of visitors and most of them seemed to be extremely interested. Asia is a place where it is very easy to be charged up to five times as much for attractions that are way less worthwhile, if worthwhile at all.

After lots of rascals, here are two gentlemen - Mandalay, Burma

The train to Hsipaw

Basing it on my memories from ten years ago we've decided to travel by train from Mandalay to Thibaw (Hsipaw). The trip is very uncomfortable, slow and bumpy, onboard some ancient cars equipped with wooden benches that travel on narrow-gauge tracks. We have already booked two moto-taxis that for a little sum will take us to the station at three-thirty in the morning. 

As I'm looking for some guest houses on the web I come across a page with some information about the same journey. And I realize that I got it all wrong. What we actually want to do is reaching Maymyo (Pin oo Lwin) via road, visit the town and catch the train there. The interesting part of the trip, the one which includes the Gokteik viaduct, is beyond that place and by doing like that we are gonna be spared a few hours on that Burmese roller coaster.

KL Monorail: the world's sweetest means of transport - Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia

The KL Monorail mouse-like nose

KL monorail looks like a toy, a model city train, a sort of Lima elevated railway line.
With its tiny stations, tiny tension structures, tiny bulbs, tiny signs, tiny traffic lights, tiny stairs to move between the tiny platforms, tiny cars, tiny mouse-like nose, tiny headlights, tiny seats, tiny doors, tiny alarms that signal when they are being closed, tiny voice announcing the tiny stops, tiny wheels, tiny rails, all those tiny curves that make the tiny route so winding. As a matter of fact the monorail, poor thing, has to adapt to everything and nothing in this city ever bothers to budge even a little for it. On top of that they only gave it one rail: for such a train two would have definitely be too many.
In Bangkok the Monorail has a bigger cousin: the bulky, self-assured, haughty Skytrain, which proudly advances in a straight line over the main city thoroughfares: few curves and obstacles to get around.
The Monorail, on the other hand, is some kind of a joke, and a tiny one at that, of course. Yet, it is so sweet: every time I get aboard it's as if a ghost pinched the corners of my mouth, stretching a big smile across my face. The further I walk into the car the stronger the ghost's fingers pull my flesh and the more that smile expands. Torrid heat, monsoon rain, traffic, smog, the situation outside can be desperate indeed but the KL monorail never lets you down: every time you use it you get in a good mood.

The test - Sapa, Vietnam

Human resource experts are interviewing candidates for a good corporate job. What's the best way to make sure they're selecting the smartest people, those able to think outside the box, to break out of their comfort zone, to adapt to change, to expect the unexpected and any other common place they like to use in that field? Those cunning sneaky questions of them? Hmm...you can easily find the best answers on the web. Group sessions? They often turn out to be sad displays of ill-concealed aggressiveness. And again, instructions can be found online. No, none of that stuff will really help. My suggestion? Vietnamese railways. Here is a good test for you, recruiters! The state railways of Vietnam.

The most crowded "S" in the world - Shanghai, China

(From my 2005 diary)

Despite being the country with the largest population in the world, China ranks very low among the most densely populated ones.

If the thirteen hundred million citizens were uniformly distributed over the vast national territory the living conditions in China would be much better than they actually are. Unfortunately this is not the case.

The Tibetan plateau and the deserts of Xingjian in the west, the steppe of Inner Mongolia and the sub-arctic areas of Heilongjiang northward are all very sparsely or not inhabited at all. Most of the Chinese are amassed in a S-shaped strip, not very thick, that runs along the eastern and southern coasts.

It was not hard to understand why a few years ago the SARS virus spread so easily in the Beijing and Guandong provinces, populated by dozens of millions of people whose care for hygiene is best represented by their irresistible passion for spitting. The foreign visitor gets quickly familiar with a rough throaty sound followed by a sharp pop and, after a moment of suspense, by the thud of a viscous grenade that usually falls a few centimeters from his feet.

Moving around in this region can be both an exhilarating and frustrating experience. The Chinese are able to stand in a queue for an hour, waiting to be served a few ravioli in a plastic tray. But you can't really say that you know something about China's overpopulation unless you've tried to travel like its citizens do, possibly in the weekend.

A short train ride from Shanghai to Suzhou, to visit its renowned classical gardens, can become a somehow unforgettable adventure. Everything starts with the complicated system that from the elbowing at the ticket counters takes the passengers to the tracks: you must queue up at the entrance, place your luggage on the X-ray belt and find the waiting room that has been assigned to your train, show your ticket and search on the board the number of the gate where you're supposed to check-in. Only after your ticket has been controlled for a second time you'll be able to understand what the right platform is.

Once on-board one is likely to find out that the seat whose number is hidden among the maze of ideograms is already occupied by someone else and that dozens of passengers are squeezed along the corridor. A curious situation considering the fact that only who has reserved a seat is supposed to be allowed on the train. But it's just a short ride, like traveling from London to Reading: the best thing to do is relax, lean on the door and enjoy the scenery inside and outside the car.

The few Chinese who dare talk in English with the wai guo ren love to inform them that “China is a very crowded place”. A self-evidence that is confirmed by the guidebook: Suzhou, the Reading of Shanghai, the would-be village out of town, has population of about six million.

After the sun has set on the cypresses, the pavilions, the stones and the water elements of the gardens, it's possible to board one of the numerous free-seat trains bound for Shanghai. First come, first served: the Chinese are doing all they can to get a seat on one of the cars. They run on the benches and jump the fences. When the doors open an uproar breaks loose: an elder woman loses her balance but who is behind her keeps on pushing. Other passengers from the end of the “queue” throw their bags over the others' heads.

Out of the Central station of Shanghai, after having turned into the tunnel of the subway, most of the times one comes across the same scene: all the vending machines are out of order and at one of the counters, the only one open, a worn-out woman is grazing her fingertips on tickets and banknotes, in front of a swaying bubble of noisy Chinese.

At the edge of the group an American old man, leaning on a cane, cries out his frustration. “Great! I've been here for seven years. Seven years! And I'm still amazed at the stupidity with which the government manages all this!”

The best thing to do is shake one's bewilderment off, turn around and look for a cab. Provided there is one available. One needs to remember that it's Saturday night and that this is Shanghai, the pulsing heart of eastern China, in the middle of the most crowded S in the world.