by Xinhua writer Gui Tao

LHASA, Oct. 30 (Xinhua) -- As an editor caught in the relentless tempo of Beijing, my trips to Xizang Autonomous Region in southwest China have always offered a personal reprieve. Here in Xizang, the murmur of mountain streams, and the views of mist-draped valleys and snow-capped peaks bathed in the first light of dawn restore a sense of inner peace that the metropolis so often snatches from me.

Like many outsiders, I arrived in Xizang with my own version of "Shangri-la" in mind -- a mythical refuge from the pressures of modernity, immortalized nearly a century ago in James Hilton's novel "Lost Horizon." That vision of an isolated, tranquil land suspended in spiritual serenity, inhabited by meditative monks in crimson robes, has long shaped much of the world's imagination when it comes to Xizang. The region is seen as embodying a dreamscape where time stands still and encroachments of the modern world fade away.

But this romanticized vision, often perpetuated by outsiders like Hilton who never set foot in this Himalayan region, tells only part of the story. It is an alluring yet outdated narrative that stands in sharp contrast to the Xizang of today -- a land that is undergoing profound transformation and pursuing sustainable development, no different to anywhere else in our world.

This reality, as opposed to the fantasy, crystallized during my conversation with Nyima Yangzom, a middle-aged supermarket saleswoman from Nyingchi, a city in southeastern Xizang. While her hometown is renowned for its lush forests and pristine landscapes, Nyima Yangzom's hopes are rooted not in some ancient dream, but in the everyday ambitions of better life. She hopes for a small bakery within walking distance of her home, and better job opportunities -- perhaps at the local yak meat processing plant. Nyima Yangzom also spoke fondly of the city's new shared e-bikes, which offer her a sustainable, affordable alternative to costly petrol-powered vehicles.

Nyima Yangzom's perspective stands in quiet rebuttal to the entrenched "Shangri-la" ideal -- a vision that, while enchanting, risks becoming a gilded cage. When we exoticize Xizang, we freeze it in time, denying its people the right to evolve, adapt and pursue their own aspirations. We project our nostalgia for a past that never truly existed, instead of engaging with the region's present and its people's future.

When I mentioned the often-repeated claims in some Western media and political circles that Xizang's infrastructural projects, from hydropower plants to digital networks, amount to "environmental and cultural destruction," Nyima Yangzom looked at me with both confusion and resolve, asking: "Why? Do we have to stay poor to stay Tibetan?"

Her question, simple yet profound, captures the central tension between preservation and progress, and points to deeper universal questions: What kind of modernization should we seek? How can a region like Xizang grow without losing the essence of what makes it unique?

Perhaps the first step toward answering these questions is to move beyond the "Shangri-la complex," the lens through which much of the world still views Xizang. This lens distorts reality. It traps the region in an idealized past and obscures the dynamic society unfolding there today.

To cling to the fantasy of an "untouched Xizang" at the expense of its people's material well-being is not romanticism, but a moral failure or the result of voluntary ignorance. For Tibetans like Nyima Yangzom, true dignity lies not in being admired as a relic of purity -- but in having access to education, healthcare, clean energy and mobility.

In Nyingchi, the scales of progress and preservation are teetering on a delicate, real-world equilibrium. While new solar and hydropower projects advance under stringent environmental oversight, the region's forest coverage remains one of the highest in the nation. The railway connecting Nyingchi and Lhasa serves as a vital link, tethering local industries to broader markets and creating a confluence where tradition has the chance to meet opportunity.

In the city's restaurants, chefs still use centuries-old stone pots to slow-cook wild mushrooms and free-range chicken, a culinary tradition that now draws visitors from both home and abroad. Along the local Nyang River, scenic wetlands bustle with tourists. When they stray from designated paths, sensors on nearby speakers gently remind them to protect the environment -- a small but telling sign of a region learning to balance preservation with tourism.

Even when travelers from around the world don traditional Tibetan attire for photos, they are not interacting with a static, fossilized culture, but a living one that breathes, adapts and renews itself.

On the sidelines of the Forum on the Development of Xizang held in Nyingchi this week, I spoke with scholars, policymakers and entrepreneurs from around the world. Their discussions, ranging from the use of drones in high-altitude logistics and emergency response, to harnessing digital technology to enhance cultural tourism and exploring how businesses can contribute to green growth on the "roof of the world," are all about real development.

In these conversations, many cited figures that rarely feature in international headlines -- Xizang's per capita disposable income has surged in recent years, the average life expectancy of local people has nearly doubled to over 72 years, and more than 95 percent of residents now have basic medical insurance. These milestones, frequently overlooked by those who depict development as destruction, tell a different story, namely one of progress rooted in the universal desire for a better life.

Giorgio Tenneroni, president of the Municipal Council of the Italian hill town of Todi, noted that those trapped in the "Shangri-la complex" tend to see Xizang as a vast Disneyland or open-air museum, ignoring the real development needs of its people.

As my flight departed from Nyingchi, I looked down at the intersecting lines of rivers and roads, and forests and farmlands. Xizang is sparing no efforts in carefully and vigorously walking the tightrope between tradition and transformation. The true "Shangri-la" may not be a place untouched by time, but a society that masters the art of carrying its soul into the future. ■