When most people hear ‘China’, what do they think of first? Is it the astronomical population size and the congested super-cities? The unique cuisine? The political implications? The ancient culture maybe? For me, China and the Far-East always possessed a unique lure of adventure which had captivated me from a young age. There was something enchanting about the country: the draw of the vast and dramatic landscapes, the enigmatic ubiquity of mandarin characters adding to the feeling of wonder; creating an almost alien-like setting. It is this mystery of such an ageless nation which had charmed me, and I’m forever grateful. During my six weeks exploring China by train, I visited a number of places, each one so distinctively unique in their own way, often contrasting the previous location unimaginably. One day I would be walking the populous streets of Shanghai, merged in an endless sea of blank faces and surrounded by towering skyscrapers, the next day I would be cooling off in the palm-fringed waters of Hainan, the sole sound of lapping waves lulling my ears. No place, however, captivated my curiosity to the extent of the little-known region of Dêqên in northern Yunnan province. Bordering Tibet and nestled away in the Easternmost Himalayan foothills: China’s very own ‘Shangri-La’. A place with natural beauty in abundance, it made a refreshing change from the blinding lights and sweltering crowds which are now synonymous with Chinese cities. This beauty does come at a price however, as being situated at an altitude of 3400m above sea level, altitude sickness is a grantee if the correct acclimatisation precautions are not taken- which of course, my brother and I overlooked. We ended up spending most of the five-hour mountainous bus ride from Zhongdian with our heads throbbing in our hands and a sick bag on our laps. Our pain was not eased by the precarious nature of the journey either, with the dirt road the coach was following barely wide enough for the wheels, every turn felt like our last. While a hellish experience, it was by far the most rewarding journey of my life. The scenery along the way and upon arrival was beyond breath-taking. Winding in-between impossibly steep valleys, bending, twisting and turning the occasional flash of bright mid-morning sun would break through the window, revealing in the distance the snow-capped Mt Kawagebo (Yunnan’s highest and most sacred peak). With every brief glimpse, I was filled with awe; overwhelmed by the utter magnitude of the white triangular peak which imposed over the valley like an ancient guardian. No wonder the local Tibetans believe the mountain to be the embodiment of their warrior god. Dêqên itself was more rustic than I expected, lacking the architectural magnificence of the previous town Zhongdian, home to the famed gold-plated Songzanlin Monastery (aesthetically reminiscent of Tibet’s’ most famed landmark ‘The Potala Palace’) which had dominated the town. This new village was far more rural and traditional, giving it that more ‘authentic’, rustic feel which travellers love to ‘hashtag’ about. Its streets were strewn with prayer flags, their multicoloured fluttering over the cloudless pale-blue backdrop radiating such culture and beauty with every gust of wind. The dirt streets were dotted with those quintessentially Tibetan white stoned houses with upward curved roofs filled the valley, penned in by the rolling hills and mountains which had sheltered the town from western civilisation for so long. To me, it felt like stepping back in time, like I was visiting an undiscovered, ancient civilisation- in a way, I was. The locals live in a place of such natural opulence, yet they live such a simple, modest life. No societal distractions like social media or worrying abut such pedantic matters. Just living, day by day, reaping the blissful rewards of land relatively untouched by the super consumerism which has consumed modern China. While clichéd, it is this way of life which I aim to emulate, to lesser extent. Just living in the moment, enjoying time in nature or with family without any distractions. My travels through China taught me so much, but it was the Tibetans who taught me how fleeting life is and to enjoy as much of it as you can.