Go to Dali with the All-New Digital Golf!

Is there a moment when you want to escape the hustle and bustle of the city, the suffocating traffic, put aside the clattering keyboard, look up from the computer, look down from your phone—the digital world. Return to nature, get a little respite.

So, suddenly decided, pack your bags, go traveling. Maybe I've been to the Tibetan areas too much, maybe I wanted to go somewhere different, so Dali, which I hadn't visited for many years, became the first choice. I thought, go see Dali's romance again. Walk through Shaxi, which I had never visited, and revisit the thousand-year-old village of Nuodeng, known for its ham cured with salt from the salt wells. Also, escape—escape the chaos of the world, escape the dizziness of the digital world. Upon arriving in Dali, I wanted to circle Erhai Lake; it seemed that every previous visit I had never completed this. A friend in Dali said, why not borrow my new car, take a good break, relax. The blue sky and white clouds of Dali, the clear breeze and azure waters of Erhai Lake, happened to match my friend's new car perfectly. Cangshan, without snow, cast golden light, silently keeping the Three Pagodas company; by Erhai Lake, listening to the wind blowing from Xiaguan, caressing the blue waves, caressing the heart. Standing by the road, just quietly, quietly feeling the nature without digital, serene and easy. As if the heart could also confide in nature. This year, winter in Dali is like a late autumn. In the early morning city, red lanterns on the ancient brick walls, accompanied by the morning light, stained golden, as if the old ginkgo trees on the ancient street also gilded the years. And Zhoucheng tie-dye, like the blue infused by Erhai Lake. Catching a glimpse of the industrious hands of Bai elders, telling of so many unchanging traditions. It is this that gives the Bai’s ever-different tie-dye a soul, making it unforgettable to the world. In Dali’s winter, perhaps I won’t encounter the great flowers of Shangguan, so I took refuge in the tranquility of Shaxi. The locals’ quality of life had not changed in the slightest due to tourists. The elderly still hold their faith, making pilgrimages as a lifelong habit; young people run shops, yet still entertain themselves by kicking shuttlecocks. The city gate stretched the twilight of time, as if telling the story of a border town. I, laden with fatigue, melted into this stillness. Until I woke the next morning, until the sun returned to the earth, until a steaming hot breakfast. Suddenly someone asked me why I came to Shaxi. My answer was simple: I wanted to reclaim the days of old when time moved slowly, when carriages and horses were slow. I don’t want to be enslaved by my phone, nor by this world full of digital things. The traveler who asked me replied faintly, asking how I came to Shaxi, asking whether I used navigation.