When flying
off to some far-flung destination in Asia, the colours I witness on arrival
often set the mood for my stay.
Colours are where my journey begins in search of absolute beauty.
As I come in to land, the deep blue sky is a subtle introduction to what
lies ahead.
Depending on the time of the day, I’ll be lucky enough to encounter that
deep, rich azure background. Broken up only by the white puffy, cotton
wool-like clouds stretching across the heavens.
I look down and the blue seamlessly merges into the island’s surrounding
turquoise waters. Interrupted only by the small white horses, the crests of
waves, breaking up as the breeze picks up.
Washing against small fishing boats, in search of their daily catch.
I haven’t even arrived, yet my mood is already building up for what lies
ahead. Relaxed, excited, and expectant.
The colours of blue, green and white, resetting my temperament, as the
aircraft slowly descends towards my island destination.
It could be Bali. An island closer to home, such as Pulau Tioman. Or one
of Southeast Asia’s many other beautiful island retreats.
But its colours are where I begin my journey into paradise.
Or a trip to colder climes in South Asia, up on the border with the
Himalayas and Tibet.
I’m flying through thick white clouds as I descend towards Ladakh, in
India-controlled Kashmir.
Looking down I see huge, white mountaintops, their background a bright electric
blue sky. Snow-capped with silver lines.
Connecting down to the different meandering valleys that stretch for
hundreds of kilometers through the mountain range.
Some of these silver lines are rivers flowing under the ice that will
have melted by August. Only to re-freeze a few months later, as winter sets in again.
But as you close in on Leh Airport, you encounter a high-altitude
desert. There is beige colored sand everywhere. At 4000-meters you do not
expect to see sand so close to snow.
And lower down in the valleys, the rivers are bordered by vibrant, green
vegetation on either side. Irrigated by the fast flowing rivers.
Light is a
funny old thing. It allows us to see what is around us. It allows others to see
us. Without it, we would all be stumbling around, shrouded in darkness, and
covered in cuts and bruises from our trips and falls.
It is the
energy that gives colour to all things around us.
It is the
quality of a destination’s natural light that has always made a place for me.
The further away from the bright lights and noise of the big city, the better.
The best time
of day to take photographs that capture those warm colour palettes is early in
the morning, and early in the evening.
Early in the
morning, take in the deep saffron coloured robes of monks in Shan state,
Myanmar, as they receive food from local residents.
Or watch the
deep, rich, bright blue and emerald colored ceramic tiles of mosques and
mauseleums in Xinjiang, northwest China, as the sunsets, reflecting off of them.
But unfortunately
there is one colour I have increasingly noticed during my regional travels the
last two decades.
It’s a grey,
dull, unfriendly, all-enveloping colour.
We sometimes
experience the worse of it here in Kuala Lumpur, a few times a year. Sometimes
lasting a couple of weeks. In
Singapore and Jakarta also.
It’s the
colour of economic development. It is the colour of pollution. In its worse form,
it is thick, dangerous to breath, hazardous haze.
The region’s
unfettered economic growth of the last three decades has produced a very ugly
and dangerous, side effect.
A few years
ago, I caught a train from Hong Kong to Beijing. It’s a very slow 24-hour long
journey. Perfect for unwinding and relaxing. Catching up on your reading, and
listening to music.
The last five
hours of the journey approaching Beijing, I couldn’t see the sky due to the
high pollution levels. And in some parts I couldn’t see further than 100-meters
ahead of me.
Most of us
want to own a car or motorbike. We all want to have the latest, fastest,
thinnest, smartphone, tablet and laptop computer. But at what cost to the
environment?
Have you
noticed our beautiful colours disappearing?
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