Pudong Airport in Shanghai would rival any modern airport in the world for scale, modernity and efficiency. 

I'm supping Italian coffee, chatting online and watching a somewhat up-market crowd move through the airport.  Clearly here the flights are out of reach of the poorer folk (or they are consigned to another airport of their own) and we could be in Paris or Geneva.  The crowd is ah-so-bored Western buisness folk, travellers from the more developed world clutching bargains and tourist guides, plus seemingly wealthy Chinese wearing the latest fashions. The airport offers the normal diversions, food, drink and lusting after material excess.  Why did I think I might get a pair of cheap trainers here, the $100 sneaker is alive and well - and not even a brand I know.  The more familiar brands are here too and then the wanna be local brands borrowing look and feel to up their own perceived value. So what . . . . . why would it be any different?  Its only my preconception or projection which would make this airport different from any other.  And I do want to se it different, I do want to see an ancient culture reflected somehow, I do want to resist the McChina effect.  For sentimental reasons, for environmental reasons, for the love of diversity and in hope for our future.

We drove here on wonderful roads that shame the infrastructure of the Bay Area, past an endless parade of huge hoardings erected 20 metres or so above the ground, advertising with huge Chinese characters, cars, textiles, washing machines.  A few companies had arranged an English strap line on the ads, quite who for I can't figure, but thank you to the kind folk at Kalibo Gear Hobbing Machines, International Automotive Electromechanical Plaza and Global Home Furnishings Centre.  And I wonder if Sunkey Aluminium will achieve the sales boost they envisage from their investment.

The outlook, underneath a hazy smog or a smoggy haze (could tell which), was the same for the entire 200 km drive; clusters of apartment blocks 6 or so stories high surrounded by fields being farmed in small parcels of different crops, mile after mile, this is a huge country.

I was somehow reminded of being in Puyo, which Pachamama rainforest visitors will know is the last town before the forest, and yet seems to already represent all the trappings of the old dream, alive and well on the very edge of the unspoilt wilderness of the Amazon basin.  Is China already one massive Puyo expanding westward and gobbling up the wisdom of their ancients, replacing it with our exported culture?

What this is really about, for me, is knowing our work in Awakening the Dreamer is every bit as important here.  And I've been blessed to meet a host of great people who see the trap that we've laid for them.  Some even see the irony that it is baited with Made in China goods, but all want to find a way to avoid further descent into the unsustainable dream of the modern world.

My travel bag is full of business cards I can't even read, each piece in its incomprehensible characters represents another soul alive right now to how bad it is and how much basis for hope exists.  Every one of these people will do something, they might want help to see what to do or how to join their efforts to ours, but they are with us just the same.  Open minded, open hearted and ready to act even more for a world which is environmentally sistainable, spiritually fulfilling and socially just: partners in blessed unrest.