I have long wondered whether smartphones and other mobile devices are changing our lives for the worse, robbing us of the time that should be spent engaging with the real world.

So as a practical step towards not being so subservient to these devices, a few weeks ago at the height of summer when I made a trip to Shanghai and nearby Hangzhou I resolved to use them as sparingly as possible.

Of course, before I set off I needed to book train tickets, hotel rooms, a cruise and tickets to tourist spots, which I duly did - using my mobile phone.

So having bowed to what I regarded as a necessity my resolve was already looking decidedly shaky. Nevertheless, I was still not ready to concede defeat, and before leaving home I placed a good old-fashioned book in my handbag.

Not long after the train pulled out of the station I started reading, but soon I was daydreaming about the places I would be going to. So I gingerly took out my mobile phone and started tapping away. I rationalized that online travel sites can be very helpful, with smatterings of good advice, amusing comments and often lovely pictures.

With the countryside of eastern China flashing past the train window, I remained glued to my phone for much of the five-hour journey. The phone had obviously made its own resolution to be my faithful companion, constantly demanding attention like a spoiled child.

I had more or less conceded defeat by this time, and no sooner was I out and about exploring Shanghai than I found myself online checking the weather, looking for directions, calling taxis, reading restaurant reviews and booking a table online.

The following morning I decided I wanted to try the local food. Easy. Pick up the phone, and within 30 minutes someone is standing outside your hotel room, breakfast in hand.

Many will say that mobile devices play an increasingly important - others may say intrusive - role in their lives, but this was the first time I have used my mobile phone so extensively while traveling.

I now realize how deeply our economy is enmeshed with the Internet, and vice versa, especially the service industry. Despite the economic slowdown, that industry seems to be in rude health, going by the packed trains, travel excursions, hotels and restaurants, not to mention the long lines outside museums, which receive tens of thousands of visitors a day. All these businesses are connected to the Internet, through which orders are placed and services are paid for in a split second.

Online retail sales in China were worth 2.8 trillion yuan ($440 billion) last year, almost half as much again as in the previous year, and they accounted for 10 percent of the total retail market. The number of searches for services through Baidu, China's most popular search engine, rose 133 percent last year compared with 2013. There were 649 million Internet users in China last year, nearly half the population, and about 85 percent used mobile phones.

I am now just one of hundreds of millions of people who have become - take your pick - utterly lazy or part of the on-demand economy. With the help of a smartphone, my trip was well planned, time was saved, getting around was easy and food was good.

The catch is that rather than interacting with people and with my surroundings, for a large part of my trip I was a prisoner to my digital gadgets.

It brings to mind my first trip to Hangzhou almost 20 years ago. One afternoon I planned to visit the Zhejiang provincial museum. I asked locals, all very approachable and friendly, for directions. However, by the time I reached the museum, a man told me it had just closed.

I was disappointed, of course, but on discovering that the man was a librarian there, I began asking him questions. His knowledge of the museum's library was encyclopedic, and by the time he had finished I knew a lot about the history of the Wenlan Pavilion, the biggest imperial library in the Qing Dynasty (1644-1911) in East China.

When I look back on that trip, I always think that conversation was the highlight. On my latest trip when I wanted directions any humans within reach of me were utterly dispensable; I had my phone to ask. As for the risk of arriving at the museum too late, that was taken care of simply by checking the opening times online.

All well and good, but the chances of having an encounter like that one all those years ago, one that remains vivid in the memory for decades, are all but gone.

It is one thing to talk about economic benefits and of not needing to talk to other humans these days because we really cannot lose our way, but another question arises: In reaching this point of the journey, have we lost part of our soul?

yaoying@chinadaily.com.cn