Tuesday, September 27, 2016

而立之年

        真难想象,要跟二字头告别,开始迈三张的新人生。几年前,三十岁还影影绰绰的模糊在远处,如今突然贴近跟前,确实有点猝不及防。

        都说25岁是女性的分水岭,25岁前不用抹高档护肤品,不用穿高档洋装,只四个字就可以走遍天下,正所谓“青春无敌”。一旦迈过25岁,好像就该做保养,该培养气质,该考虑婚嫁…25岁当下没体验到的人生拐点,如今渐渐感受到了。

       二字打头的时候,不论2+的后面是0-9中的哪个,行为处事都好像有个庇护伞,反正年轻。迈入三十大槛,这个借口就不好用了,连自欺欺人都失了效。老祖宗几千年前就训示“三十而立”,洗脑了这么些年,暗下决心,是该有些成稳成熟的样子了。

        虽说这些年对于女性年龄已不再那么敏感,娱乐圈的林心如、舒淇相继四十岁才出嫁。但凡夫俗子如我,还是蛮在意自己的年龄跨界。说立业吧,虽有份工作,吃饱喝足之余有点存款,但没啥成就感。说成家吧,有个稳定的男友但还不知婚期。说生活吧,不咸不淡地认识了几个熟人,既没啥社交圈,也没发展什么兴趣爱好。每每想及此,脑海中都出现一个恨铁不成钢的小人“这些年,你到底在干了啥?”

       生日前随着日子的临近有些忧虑,真到了生日后日子又回归正常。因为生日当天有课,今年的生日在一家西式火锅店提前一天庆祝。尝了一盘以字母表顺序排列的肉类组合,开了一瓶白葡萄酒,以店家菜单内包括的甜点当作生日蛋糕。在微信和FB上收获了亲朋好友的生日祝福,还是蛮开心的。


       生活没什么不同,跟二十岁告别,开始享受女人三十吧。

       

Thursday, July 28, 2016

沙漠的盛宴

        第三次造访Las Vegas,心里其实没啥期待。这里的白天稀松平常,一到黑夜处处笙歌、纸醉金迷。自诩文艺青年的我很是有点瞧不上这个城市,反正是家庭旅行,重在参与。




        来的时候机长是个年轻小伙,因为对滑行距离估计不足,第一次降落时,已经接近地面的我们又被拉高到了半空,接着飞了好大一圈才成功着陆。一进机场,五花八门的赌博机一字排开,列队欢迎。走出机场,四十多度的沙漠热风将我们迅速包围,习惯了北加清凉一夏的我们顿时有种步入三温暖的酸爽感。

        我对赌博毫无兴致,也没钱扫货,品尝各种美食就是我在拉斯维加斯的主要活动。在机场等来从南加赶来的James二哥二嫂,我们马不停蹄开始了盛宴的第一餐:日本烧烤店。这家貌似比较正宗,菜单都有日文呢。


       第二天,James的同事推荐了一家oyster bar。店虽小,名气在外。我们足足排了两个小时才吃上饭,不过也算不辜负我们的期待。




        又被推荐了一家buffet,中餐39,晚餐58。为了省点钱,我们好不容易掐着点挤入了中餐的队伍。什么叫饕餮,什么叫眼花缭乱, 此刻我才明白吃自助“走着进来,扶着出去”的真谛。真是可惜自己没长两个胃,想要狂扫美食心有余而力不足哇。

          我们也会自己在yelp上好吃的馆子,某天的晚餐就是网络搜索的结果。鲜嫩的牛排,入味的鸡肉,还有肥美的三文鱼,搭配街对面的喷泉表演,完美。

           除了吃,我们也去逛了一下Mead lake,可是阳光太刺眼,温度太灼热。看了几眼仙人掌我们又躲进了车里。


         之前来拉斯维加斯,一直都是闲逛。这回终于在MGM看了一场秀。一进入剧场,灯光一灭,冷气一吹,我的睡意就幽幽袭来。想到我花了几十大洋买的门票,硬生生克制住困意,睁大眼睛欣赏台上的表演。看到一半,头脑总算清醒,也慢慢进入故事。这有点类似国内的杂技表演,演员肢体灵活,很多动作都让人为他们的安危捏了一把汗。我最佩服的是他们的舞台设计,可以三维旋转的舞台给表演增加了很多可看性,加上灯光投射和道具的运用,给表演增色不少。

        最后一天回程,周二晚的飞机竟然overbook,如果主动放弃机票可以换回价值500刀的飞行额度。James和他妈妈马上表态放弃,大势所趋我也只好临时跟老板请假,在LV又多呆了一晚。航空公司为我们安排了住宿和早晚餐,不过这次的饭菜质量就远不及前两日我们自己的选择,好在不要钱也懒得计较。

        把照片分享在朋友圈,老妈看到痛心疾首:怎么都是肉,你们少吃点,又胖了。。。好,下定决心,吃完就减!!

Monday, July 11, 2016

仲夏

        夏天是水果的盛宴,超市里琳琅满目的新鲜蔬果摆放地特别赏心悦目。加州虽然没有Oregon的各式莓子,这边的农场也有不少其它水果,比如柳橙、橘子、樱桃和桃子。去年我不知从哪找的一个海边农场,跟着James和他爸妈兴致冲冲去采草莓。谁曾想草莓稀稀落落实在让人看不上眼不说,海风还吹得人举步维艰,那可真是段不太愉快的经历。今年我下定决心一雪前耻,在朋友的推荐下找到一家口碑不错的农场。五月底去摘了樱桃,六月底又去摘了两回白桃,每每都是满载而归还吃了个肚滚腰圆,好不快活。


        James父母对卫生比较注意,从树上刚摘的新鲜果子一定得洗净削皮才肯品尝。我就没那么讲究,豪爽地直接往嘴里丢。樱桃树比较高,没有梯子的我们直接爬树,后来才发现果园内有告示:禁止攀爬。自我安慰道,下不为例。桃树被修剪得高低适宜,伸手一够即可。第一次摘樱桃没有经验,我们都觉得太便宜了,拼命往桶子里丢,回到家浪费了不少。后来摘桃子吸取经验,对量比较节制,没有浪费。前几天去逛超市,同类的白桃,价格适中还个大皮薄,James再想邀我去摘桃子我就没啥兴趣了。

        平时除了双休日,美国人假期挺少的。从五月的memeriol day起我就一直盼着长周末,终于等到国庆独立日。James临时建议去Lake Tahoe度假,接着就是定旅馆、查攻略。七月的长周末是度假黄金期,旅馆都比平时贵。好在我们只是住一晚,挑了个景区附近的Motel就算满足需求。James又问要不要带火锅,真是走哪都要带火锅的一家人啊。我不建议,就一晚上还兴师动众地带一堆食材和厨具,太麻烦了。在他的坚持下,我们还是把所有原料带上路。相比各种汉堡、披萨、三明治,火锅还是挺好吃的。当然,他又免不了赞叹了一番自己的“英明决策”。

         Lake Tahoe是加州人度假胜地,据说早在国家公园系统开发前这里旅游业就已经发展颇具规模,所以这里没有被规划为国家公园。这里夏天游湖,冬天滑雪,湖光山色,一年四季都十分热闹。出发前我查看了几篇旅游攻略,说因为海拔高,这里温度不高,所以我带了件外套。旅行中,每次我们都信誓旦旦说八点以前出门,可总是磨蹭到十点多才能check out,所以外套没派上用场。攻略里说可以看鸟,我带了个小型望远镜,结果一路都没机会拿出来。出于爱美之心,我还在网上查了下如何拍照,穿什么服装,摆什么pose,可回来整理照片,还是那么千篇一律。得,都白准备了。

          比起Oregon的雪山湖,Lake Tahoe没那么让人惊艳。除了翡翠湾的湖水蓝中带绿,晶莹剔透,其它地方的湖水就是普通的蓝色。湖面挺大,绕一圈开车得一两个小时,有时在空旷处往过去,湖面一望无垠,会有来到海边的错觉。这是美洲最深的高山湖,如果要重新填满,需要700年光阴。湖的西边是加州,东边归Nevada。湖边建了不少小公园和其它景点,热门的景点都是人。天气晴好,又正值假期,身着比基尼身材火爆的女孩和打着赤膊显露胸肌的小鲜肉,三五一群,目无旁人地往湖边走。看着他们,不得不感叹肆意的青春就该搭配夏天的艳阳。

        我们既没游湖,也没戏水,因为时间有限,仅仅是开车绕湖逛了一圈,在热门景点下车拍照,随便走走,不过这也算是得了度假的精髓吧。在湖边吹着风,看点点白帆,想到之前游过的若干个湖,Oregon不知名的湖,黄石公园里的湖,Cleveland的Erie湖,Utah的羚羊湖……好些都从脑海中闪过。相信不久之后,Lake Tahoe就如之前去过的一些湖,会慢慢消减成一个模糊的印象。

       仲夏:夏天的第二个月,农历五月份,公历6-7月。

Thursday, June 9, 2016

也许,这才是爱情

        韩国的电影电视一向催泪,即使没有大悲大喜的戏剧性桥段,贴近生活地娓娓道来也能直指人心。《我爱你》这部听着很俗烂的电影因为豆瓣的高评分被我收藏在观看影列,因为这重复率极高的影片名,在YouTube没找到资源,却找到了同名的电视剧。于是歪打正着,先看了电视剧,再看了这部电影。

电影海报

电视剧海报

        电影和电视剧都讲述了两对CP:卖牛奶的老爷爷金万皙和拾破烂的老奶奶宋怡芬,以及看停车场的老爷爷张军峰和他患老年痴呆的老伴。不过,除了张军峰的扮演者李顺宰,其它的演员电影和电视剧都不一样。金万皙是个脾气很臭、满嘴脏话、说话爱大吼大叫、带着大男子主义的老头,对跟自己结婚快五十年的老伴从没有过轻声细语温柔体贴。一起出门的时候,总是一个劲地走在前面,老伴让他走慢点,充耳不闻。吃完饭,老伴让他帮忙抬个桌子,他训斥老伴怎么不一个个把碗撤回厨房,男人端桌碗成何体统。老伴胃不舒服,他说是吃饱了撑的,买点消化药就好了。其实那时候老伴已经是胃癌晚期,正为病痛所折磨。住院化疗的时候,老伴想喝牛奶。虽然金老头嘴上说又不是小孩子喝什么牛奶,还是给老伴买了牛奶。无奈医院出于病情考虑,坚决不让患者喝乳制品。金老头很是不安,老奶奶反而劝慰说,一辈子不会照顾人的老头竟然陪伴自己做化疗,给自己买来了牛奶还打开了口子,生病得到这样的照顾自己已经很开心了。很快老奶奶就离开了人世,而金爷爷出于愧疚,开始每天清晨送牛奶,一送就送了七年。

         在这个小区住着很多经济条件不太好的老住户,在一个160号坡,因为一块小石头,每天清晨送牛奶的金老头碰见了拾破烂的宋氏。宋氏一生凄苦,儿童时期因为父亲早亡,没有取名字,便一直被称为宋氏。少女时期因为憧憬新生活和男朋友私奔到首尔,可惜没有找到工作的男友渐渐变得暴躁,动不动拳脚相加,宋氏也只好一直忍气吞声以泪洗面。后来两人有了女儿,男人离她们而去。宋氏辛苦抚养女儿,却因为经济拮据在女儿生病的时候失去了女儿。本打算一同离开的宋氏自杀没有成功,被好心人指引上了拾破烂度日的道路。每天的擦肩而过,金老头渐渐喜欢上了这个腼腆善良的宋氏,在孙女的支持下,鼓足勇气告白。老头帮她过生日,带她去游乐场,帮她办身份证、取了个与美丽同义的名字——宋怡芬,总之男友力十足。在努力付出的过程中,也渐渐明白自己当初对老伴的亏欠。

        老实稳重的张老头开了一辈子开出租车,和老伴辛苦养育了两个儿子一个女儿,渐渐孩子们各自成家独立生活,昔日热闹的家庭又慢慢变成了只有夫妻俩。为了生活,退休后老头在停车场工作,他不舍得送患老年痴呆的老伴去疗养院,就将她锁在家里。下班回来照顾老伴,洗澡、换衣、喂饭……事无巨细,毫无怨言。一日疏忽,忘记锁门,老伴溜了出去。好在碰见去取水的金老头,被领了回来。张老头背着冻得瑟瑟发抖的老伴,不停地鞠躬道谢,由此在老年交了一个朋友。不识字的宋氏为了读金老头的信,开始跟张老头学识字,经常会去他家陪伴他的老伴,两人也慢慢成了朋友。


        可惜生活总是如此不顺,老伴的便血被给看似平静的生活又添了几分死亡的阴影。已经携手走过风风雨雨的两人,怎么舍得因为死亡而分开。张爷爷平静地安排完自己的后事,喂老伴吃了安眠药就开煤气自杀了。金爷爷第二天收到他留的信,赶忙冲到他家,发现两人已经去世,手还紧紧相握。目睹死亡的贴近,宋氏决定回江原道的故乡。从没体验过幸福的她对这一份迟来的幸福格外珍惜,她无法想象张老头的死亡将所有的美好带走,她要带着这份幸福的回忆一个人老去。


        在这个年纪,分开也许就意味着永别,虽然生气,虽然不舍,金老头还是送怡芬回了阔别已久的家。在病床上,他们又一起行在开满油菜花的乡间小道上。


        要把11集55分钟的电视剧压缩成118分钟的电影,很多细枝末节当然就省略了。相比于电视剧中增加的孙女和公益员的感情戏,电影只讲述了这两对老人的平淡爱情。没有童话里王子和公主从此幸福在一起,两对白发苍苍的老人,一辈子辛苦勤勉地生活,在晚年因为爱情而放弃生命,或因为爱情而分开,怎能不令人感叹呢?

Thursday, April 28, 2016

且爱且珍惜

        有没有那么一群人,一群自私的人,只会爱自己,不懂爱别人?过去的二十年,我心安理得地接受来自父母和前任的爱,仿佛本应如此。现在,刚成为基督徒的我却常常被恋人抱怨,你不够爱我。听及此,刚想反驳,仔细一想却发现事实胜于雄辩,只好接受真相又心生沮丧。要为如何爱而发愁,是不是恋爱中的必修课?

        上帝教导我们,要Love each other。牧师解释说,这里的爱是动词。你可能没有这个感觉,但你要有这个动作。爱,是要懂得牺牲、是要忘记自我,像基督爱我们一样无条件地爱对方,这可太难了。现代社会教会我们自我意识,作为一个独立自主的女性,我有自己的生活方式、处事方法、兴趣爱好,让我把这一切都抛诸脑后,一切以恋人为中心。天哪,难怪我还没嫁出去,他观察得很准确,恋爱中的我,实在不够爱对方。

        这个世间有很多人,有人潇洒独身,他们享受孤独,任性地自私自爱。没法忍受孤单的我,找到一个愿意等我学会爱的他,在这段恋情里慢慢前行。有时候会想要放弃,到底要做到什么程度才够及那个她?可怎么舍得?翻看三年前的聊天记录,如果时光倒转,我还是会为文字背后的他心动。其实应该感恩,是他帮我接近了上帝,他指出我的不足,他给我点点滴滴的帮助。作为他,又何其无辜,不过是一个释放爱也期待爱的男生罢了。

        尽力。

Wednesday, March 2, 2016

又是个开始

新工作开始一个月,一切都是从新开始,完全不同的研究领域,用摸石头过河形容再好不过。四个人的创业小团队,实验室是租赁在一个创业孵化园区内,像极了读研究院时系里的楼里各个PI各自为营,研究生和本科生们埋头苦干的模样。虽然充满挑战和未知,但每天都能学到新东西充实忙碌的感觉还真是不错。唯一的不足就是公司离住处近20迈的距离,高速上开车大概半小时。加州人民开车可远比村里的疯狂,变道不打灯,横冲直撞的情况每天都在发生。每天上下班的路途都是一天最紧张的时刻,顺利回家长呼一口气,感谢上帝。

去年因为工作原因,工作签证准备一半就草草收场。今年又卷土再来,公司认证,填LCA和其它表格,准备申请资料。希望能够一切顺利,有幸抽中。🙏 如果能顺利转换身份,争取十月份回国。已经三年没回去了,老朋友们结婚的结婚,生子的生子,虽说网上也能看到更新,还是当面聊更有感觉。还有亲友各种杂事,真的要找机会一一完成。

另一个计划是看房,一个condo吧。如果工作稳定,身份确认的话就打算在这定居了。想着每个月交房租,各种不便利还不如自己添点钱买个小condo也算是投资了。

最后计划中的就是讨债,等了一年多,拖欠的工资仍是迟迟未给,算仁至义尽,只能找律师讨回公道。希望律师费不要太贵,事情可以圆满解决。

Friday, February 12, 2016

The Art of Reading - Lin Yutang

Reading or the enjoyment of books has always been regarded among the charms of a cultured life and is respected and envied by those who rarely give themselves that privilege. This is easy to understand when we compare the difference between the life of a man who does no reading and that of a man who does. The man who has not the habit of reading is imprisoned in his immediate world, in respect to time and space. His life falls into a set routine; he is limited to contact and conversation with a few friends and acquaintances, and he sees only what happens in his immediate neighborhood. From this prison there is no escape. But the moment he takes up a book, he immediately enters a different world, and if it is a good book, he is immediately put in touch with one of the best talkers of the world. This talker leads him on and carries him into a different country or a different age, or unburdens to him some of his personal regrets, or discusses with him some special line or aspect of life that the reader knows nothing about. An ancient author puts him in communion with a dead spirit of long ago, and as he reads along, he begins to imagine what that ancient author looked like and what type of person he was. Both Mencius and Ssema Ch'ien, China's greatest historian, have expressed the same idea. Now to be able to live two hours out of twelve in a different world and take one's thoughts off the claims of the immediate present is, of course, a privilege to be envied by people shut up in their bodily prison. Such a change of environment is really similar to travel in its psychological effect.

      But there is more to it than this. The reader is always carried away into a world of thought and reflection. Even if it is a book about physical events, there is a difference between seeing such events in person or living through them, and reading about them in books, for then the events always assume the quality of a spectacle and the reader becomes a detached spectator. The best reading is therefore that which leads us into this contemplative mood, and not that which is merely occupied with the report of events. The tremendous amount of time spent on newspapers I regard as not reading at all, for the average readers of papers are mainly concerned with getting reports about events and happenings without contemplative value.

       The best formula for the object of reading, in my opinion, was stated by Huang Shanku, a Sung poet and friend of Su Tungp'o. He said, "A scholar who hasn't read anything for three days feels that his talk has no flavor (becomes insipid), and his own face becomes hateful to look at (in the mirror)." What he means, of course, is that reading gives a man a certain charm and flavor, which is the entire object of reading, and only reading with this object can be called an art. One doesn't read to "improve one's mind," because when one begins to think of improving his mind, all the pleasure of reading is gone. He is the type of person who says to himself: " I must read Shakespeare, and I must read Sophocles, and I must read the entire Five Foot Shelf of Dr. Eliot, so I can become an educated man." I am sure that man will never become educated. He will force himself one evening to read Shakespeare's Hamlet and come away, as if from a bad dream, with no greater benefit than that he is able to say that he has "read" Hamlet. Anyone who reads a book with a sense of obligation does not understand the art of reading. This type of reading with a business purpose is in no way different from a senator's reading up of files and reports before he makes a speech. It is asking for business advice and information, and not reading at all.

        Reading for the cultivation of personal charm of appearance and flavor in speech is then, according to Huang, the only admissible kind of reading. This charm of appearance must evidently be interpreted as something other than physical beauty. What Huang means by "hateful to look at" is not physical ugliness. There are ugly faces that have a fascinating charm and beautiful faces that are insipid to look at. I have among my Chinese friends one whose head is shaped like a bomb and yet who is nevertheless always a pleasure to see. The most beautiful face among Western authors, so far as I have seen them in pictures, was that of G. K. Chesterton. There was such a diabolical conglomeration of mustache, glasses, fairly bushy eyebrows and knitted lines where the eyebrows met! One felt there were a vast number of ideas playing about inside that forehead, ready at any time to burst out from those quizzically penetrating eyes. That is what Huang would call a beautiful face, a face not made up by powder and rouge, but by the sheer force of thinking. As for flavor of speech, it all depends on one's way of reading. Whether one has "flavor" or not in his talk, depends on his method of reading. If a reader gets the flavor of books, he will show that favor in his conversations, he cannot help also having a flavor in his writing.

       Hence I consider flavor or taste as the key to all reading. It necessarily follows that taste is selective and individual, like the taste for food. The most hygienic way of eating is, after all, eating what one likes, for then one is sure of his digestion. In reading as in eating, what is one man's meat may be another's poison. A teacher cannot force his pupils to like what he likes in reading, and a parent cannot  expect his children to have the same taste as himself. And if the reader has no taste for what he reads, all the time is wasted. As Yuan Chuanglang says, "You can leave the books that you don't like alone, and let other people read them."

       There can be, therefore, no books that one absolutely must read. For our intellectual interests grow like a tree or flow like a river. So long as there is proper sap, the tree will grow anyhow, and so long as there is fresh current from the spring, the water will flow. When water strikes a granite cliff, it just goes around it; when it finds itself in a pleasant low valley, it stops and meanders there a while; when it finds itself in a deep mountain pond, it is content to stay here; when it finds itself traveling over rapids, it hurries forward. Thus, without any effort or determined aim, it is sure of reaching the sea some day. There are no books in this world that everybody must read, but only books that a person must read at a certain time in a given place under given circumstances and a t a given period of his life. I rather think that reading, like matrimony, is determined by fate or yinyuan. Even if there is a certain book that every one must read, like the Bible, there is a time for it. When one's thoughts and experience have not reached a certain point for reading a masterpiece, the masterpiece will leave only a bad flavor on his palate. Confucius said, "When one is fifty, once may read the Book of Changes," which means that one should not read it at forty-five. The extremely mild flavor of Confucius' own sayings in the Analects and his mature wisdom cannot be appreciated until one becomes mature himself.

       Furthermore, the same reader reading the same book at different periods, gets a different flavor out of it. For instance, we enjoy a book more after we have had a personal talk with the author himself, or even after having seen a picture of his face, and one gets again a different flavor sometimes after one has broken off friendship with the author. A person gets a kind of flavor form reading the Book of Changes at forty, and gets another kind of flavor reading it at fifty, after he has seen more changes in life. Therefore, all good books can be read with profit and renewed pleasure a second time. I was made to read Westward Ho! and Henry Esmond in my college days, but while I was capable of appreciating Westward Ho! in my 'teens, the real flavor of Henry Esmond escaped me entirely until I reflected about it later on, and suspected there was vastly more charm in that book than I had then been capable of appreciating.

       Reading, therefore, is an act considering of two sides, the author and the reader. The net gain comes as much from the reader's contribution through his own insight and experience as from the author's own. In speaking about the Confucian Analacts, the Sung Confucianist Ch'eng Yich'uan said, "There are readers and readers. Some read the Analacts  and feel that nothing has happened, some are pleased with one or two lines in it, and some begin to wave their hands and dance on their legs unconsciously."

       I regard the discovery of one's favorite author as the most critical event in one's intellectual development. There is such a thing as the affinity of spirits, and among the authors of ancient and modern times, one must try to find an author whose spirit is akin with his own. Only in this way can one get any real good out of reading. One has to be independent and search out his masters. Who is one's favorite author, no one can tell, probably not even the man himself. It is like love at first sight. The reader cannot be told to love this one or that one, but when he has found the author he loves, he knows it himself by a kind of instinct. We have such famous cases of discoveries of authors. Scholars seem to have lived in different ages, separated by centuries, and yet their modes of thinking and feeling were so akin that their coming together across the pages of a book was like a person finding his own image. in Chinese phraseology, we speak of these kindred spirits as reincarnations of the same soul, as Su Tungp'o was said to be a re-incarnation of Chuangtse or T'ao Yuanming, and Yun Chunglang was said to be the re-incarnation of Su Tungp'o. Su Tungp'o said that when he first read Chuangtse, he felt as same things and taking the same views himself. When Yuan Chunglang discovered one night Hsu Wench'ang, a contemporary unknown to him, in a small book of poems, he jumped out of bed and shouted to his friend, and his friend began to read it and shout in turn, and then they both read and shouted again until their servant was completely puzzled. George Eliot described her first reading of Rousseau as an electric shock. Nietzsche felt the same thing about Schopenhauer, but Schopenhaueer was a peevish master and Nietzsche was a violent-tempered pupil, and it was natural that the pupil later rebelled against the teacher.

       It is only this kind of reading, this discovery of one's favorite author, that will do one any good at all. Like a man falling in love with his sweetheart at first sight, everything is right. She is of the right height, has the right face, the right color of hair, the right quality of voice and the right way of speaking and smiling. This author is not something that a young man need be told about by this teacher. The author is just right for him; his style , his taste, his point of view, his mode of thinking, are all right. And then the reader proceeds to devour every word and every line that the author writes, and because there is a spiritual affinity, he absorbs and readily digests everything. The author has cast a spell over him, and he is glad to be under the spell, and in time his own voice and manner and way of smiling and way of talking become like the author's own. Thus he truly steeps himself in his literary lover and derives form these books sustenance for his soul. After a few years, the spell is over and he grows a little tried of this lover and seeks for new literary lovers, and after he has had three or four lovers and completely eaten them up, he emerges as an author himself. There are many readers who never fall in love, like many young men and women who flirt around and are incapable of forming a deep attachment to a particular person. They can read any and all authors, and they never amount to anything.

       Such a conception of the art of reading completely precludes the idea of reading as a duty or as an obligation. In China, one often encourages students to "study bitterly." There was a famous scholar who studied bitterly and who stuck an awl in his calf when he fell asleep while studying at night. There was another scholar who had a maid stand by his side as he was studying at night, to wake him up every time he fell asleep. This was nonsensical. If one has a book lying before him and falls asleep while some wise ancient author is talking to him, he should just go to bed. No amount of sticking an awl in his calf or of shaking him up by a maid will do him any good. Such a man has lost all sense of the pleasure of reading. Scholars who are worth anything at all never know what is called "a hard grind" or what "bitter study" means. They merely love books and read on because they cannot help themselves.

      With this question solved, the question of time and place for reading is also provided with an answer. There is no proper time and place for reading. When the mood for reading comes, one can read anywhere. If one knows the enjoyment of reading, he will read in school or out of school, and in spite of all schools. He can study even in the best schools. Tseng Kuofan, in one of his family letters concerning the expressed desire of one of his younger brothers to come to the capital and study at a better school, replied that: "If one has the desire to study, he can study at a country school, or even on a desert or in busy streets, and even as a woodcutter or a swine-herd. But if one has no desire to study, then not only is the country school not proper for study, but even a quiet country home or a fairy island is not a proper place for study." There are people who adopt a self-important posture at the desk when they  are about to do some reading, and then complain they are unable to read because the room is too cold, or the chair is too hard, or the light is too strong. And there are writers who complain that they cannot write because there are too many mosquitos, or the writing paper is too shiny, or the noise form the street is too great. The great Sung scholar, Ouyang Hsiu, confessed to "three on's" for doing his best writing: on the pillow, on horseback and on the toilet. Another famous Ch'ing scholar, Ku Ch'ienli, was known for his habit of "reading Confucian classic naked" in summer. On the other hand, there is a good reason for not doing any reading in any of the seasons of the year, if one does not like reading:

The study in spring is treason;
And summer is sleep's best reason;
If winter hurries the fall,
Then stop till next spring season.

       What, then, is the true are of reading? The simple answer is to just take up a book and read when the mood comes. To be thoroughly enjoyed, reading must be entirely spontaneous. One takes a limp volume of Lisao, or of Omar Khayyam, and goes away hand in hand with his love to read on a river bank. If there are good clouds over one's head, let them read the clouds and forget the books, or read the books and the clouds at the same time. Between times, a good pipe or a good cup of tea makes it still more perfect. Or perhaps on a snowy night, when one is sitting before the fireside, and there is a kettle singing on the hearth and a good pouch of tobacco at the side, one gathers ten or a dozen books on philosophy, economics, poetry, biography and piles them up on the couch, and then leisurely turns over a few of them and gently lights on the one which strikes his fancy at the moment. Chin Shengt'an regards reading a banned behind closed doors on a snowy night as one of the greatest pleasures of life. The mood for reading is perfectly described by Ch'en Chiju (Meikung): "The ancient people called books and paintings ' limp volumes' and 'soft volumes'; therefore the best style of reading a book or opening an album is the leisurely style;" In this mood, one develops patience for everything. As the same authors says, "The read master tolerates misprints when reading history, as a good traveller tolerates bad roads when climbing a mountain, one going to watch a snow scene tolerates a flimsy bridge, one choosing to live in the country tolerates vulgar people, and one bent on looking at flowers tolerates bad wine."

       The best description of the pleasure of reading I found in the autobiography of China's greatest poetess, Li Ch'ingchao (Yi-an, 1081-1141). She and her husband would go to the temple, where secondhand books and rubbings from stone inscriptions were sold, on the day he got his monthly stipend as a student at the Imperial Academy. Then they would buy some fruit on the way back, and coming home, they began to pare the fruit and examine the newly bought rubbings together, or drink tea and compare the variants in different editions. As described in her autobiographical sketch known as Postscript to Chinshihlu (a book on bronze and stone inscriptions):

         I have a power for memory, and sitting quietly after supper in the Homecoming Hall, we would          boil  a pot of tea and, pointing to the piles of books on the shelves, make a guess as to on what            line of  what page in what volume of a certain book a passage occurred and see who was right,            the one  making the correct guess having the privilege of drinking his cup of tea first. When a              guess was  correct, we would lift the cup high and break out into a loud laughter, so much so              that sometimes the  tea was spilled on our dress and we were no able to drink. We were then                content to live and grow old  in such a world! Therefore we held out heads high, although we              were living in poverty and sorrow...  In time our collection grew bigger and bigger and the                  books and art objects were piled up on tables  and desks and beds and we enjoyed them with                our eyes and our minds and planned and discussed  over them, tasting a happiness above those            enjoying dogs and horses and music and dance...

        This sketch was written in her old age after her husband had died, when she was a lonely old woman fleeing from place to place during the invasion of North China by the Chin tribes.

Thursday, February 11, 2016

读书的艺术——林语堂

       读书或书籍的享受素来被视为有修养的生活上的一种雅事,而在一些不大有机会享受这种权利的人们看来,这是一种值得尊重和妒忌的事。当我们把一个不读书者和一个读书者的生活上的差异比较一下,这一点便很容易明白。那个没有养成读书习惯的人,以时间和空间而言,是受着他眼前的世界所禁锢的。他的生活是机械化的,刻板的;他只跟几个朋友和相识者接触谈话,他只看见他周遭所发生的事情。他在这个监狱里是逃不出去的。可是当他拿起一本书的时候,他立刻走进一个不同的世界;如果那是一本好书,他便立刻接触到世界上一个最健谈的人。这个谈话者引导他前进,带他到一个不同的国度或不同的时代,或者对他发泄一些私人的悔恨,或者跟他讨论一些他从来不知道的学问或生活问题。一个古代的作家使读者随一个久远的死者交通;当他读下去的时候,他开始想象那个古代的作家相貌如何,是哪一类的人。孟子和中国最伟大的历史家司马迁都表现过同样的观念。一个人在十二小时之中,能够在一个不同的世界里生活二小时,完全忘怀眼前的现实环境:这当然是那些禁锢在他们的身体监狱里的人所妒羡的权利。这么一种环境的改变,由心理上的影响说来,是和旅行一样的。
  
  不但如此。读者往往被书籍带进一个思想和反省的境界里去。纵使那是一本关于现实事情的书,亲眼看见那些事情或亲历其境,和在书中读到那些事情,其间也有不同的地方,因为在书本里所叙述的事情往往变成一片景象,而读者也变成一个冷眼旁观的人。所以,最好的读物是那种能够带我们到这种沉思的心境里去的读物,而不是那种仅在报告事情的始末的读物。我认为人们花费大量的时间去阅读报纸,并不是读书,因为一般阅报者大抵只注意到事件发生或经过的情形的报告,完全没有沉思默想的价值。
  
  据我看来,关于读书的目的,宋代的诗人和苏东坡的朋友黄山谷所说的话最妙。他说:“三日不读,便觉语言无味,面目可憎”。他的意思当然是说,读书使人得到一种优雅和风味,这就是读书的整个目的,而只有抱着这种目的的读书才可以叫做艺术。一人读书的目的并不是要“改进心智”,因为当他开始想要改进心智的时候,一切读书的乐趣便丧失净尽了。他对自己说:“我非读莎士比亚的作品不可,我非读索福客俪(Sophocles)的作品不可,我非读伊里奥特博士(Dr·Eliot)的《哈佛世界杰作集》不可,使我能够成为有教育的人。”我敢说那个人永远不能成为有教育的人。他有一天晚上会强迫自己去读莎士比亚的《哈姆雷特》(Hamlet),读毕好象由一个噩梦中醒转来,除了可以说他已经“读”过《哈姆雷特》之外,并没有得到什么益处。一个人如果抱着义务的意识去读书,便不了解读书的艺术。这种具有义务目的的读书法,和一个参议员在演讲之前阅读文件和报告是相同的。这不是读书,而是寻求业务上的报告和消息。
  
  所以,依黄山谷氏的说话,那种以修养个人外表的优雅和谈吐的风味为目的的读书,才是唯一值得嘉许的读书法。这种外表的优雅显然不是指身体上之美。黄氏所说的 “面目可憎”,不是指身体上的丑陋。丑陋的脸孔有时也会有动人之美,而美丽的脸孔有时也会令人看来讨厌。我有一个中国朋友,头颅的形状像一颗炸弹,可是看到他却使人欢喜。据我在图画上所看见的西洋作家,脸孔最漂亮的当推吉斯透顿。他的髭须,眼镜,又粗又厚的眉毛,和两眉间的皱纹,合组而成一个恶魔似的容貌。我们只觉得那个头额中有许许多多的思念在转动着,随时会由那对古怪而锐利的眼睛里迸发出来。那就是黄氏所谓美丽的脸孔,一个不是脂粉装扮起来的脸孔,而是纯然由思想的力量创造起来的脸孔。讲到谈吐的风味,那完全要看一个人读书的方法如何。一个人的谈吐有没有“味”,完全要看他的读书方法。如果读者获得书中的“味”,他便会在谈吐中把这种风味表现出来;如果他的谈吐中有风味,他在写作中也免不了会表现出风味来。
  
  所以,我认为风味或嗜好是阅读一切书籍的关键。这种嗜好跟对食物的嗜好一样,必然是有选择性的,属于个人的。吃一个人所喜欢吃的东西终究是最合卫生的吃法,因为他知道吃这些东西在消化方面一定很顺利。读书跟吃东西一样,“在一人吃来是补品,在他人吃来是毒质。”教师不能以其所好强迫学生去读,父母也不能希望子女的嗜好和他们一样。如果读者对他所读的东西感不到趣味,那么所有的时间全都浪费了。袁中郎曰:“所不好之书,可让他人读之。”
  
  所以,世间没有什么一个人必读之书。因为我们智能上的趣味象一棵树那样地生长着,或象河水那样地流着。只要有适当的树液,树便会生长起来,只要泉中有新鲜的泉水涌出来,水便会流着。当水流碰到一个花岗岩石时,它便由岩石的旁边绕过去;当水流涌到一片低洼的溪谷时,它便在那边曲曲折折地流着一会儿;当水流涌到一个深山的池塘时,它便恬然停驻在那边;当水流冲下急流时,它便赶快向前涌去。这么一来,虽则它没有费什么气力,也没有一定的目标,可是它终究有一天会到达大海。世上无人人必读的书,只有在某时某地,某种环境,和生命中的某个时期必读的书。我认为读书和婚姻一样,是命运注定的或阴阳注定的。纵使某一本书,如《圣经》之类,是人人必读的,读这种书也有一定的时候。当一个人的思想和经验还没有达到阅读一本杰作的程度时,那本杰作只会留下不好的滋味。孔子曰: “五十以学《易》。”便是说,四十五岁时候尚不可读《易经》。孔子在《论语》中的训言的冲淡温和的味道,以及他的成熟的智慧,非到读者自己成熟的时候是不能欣赏的。
  
  且同一本书,同一读者,一时可读出一时之味道来。其景况适如看一名人相片,或读名人文章,未见面时,是一种味道,见了面交谈之后,再看其相片,或读其文章,自有另外一层深切的理会。或是与其人绝交以后,看其照片,读其文章,亦另有一番味道。四十学《易》是一种味道,到五十岁看过更多的人世变故的时候再去学《易》,又是一种味道。所以,一切好书重读起来都可以获得益处和新乐趣。我在大学的时代被学校强迫去读《西行记》(“Westward  Ho!”)和《亨利埃士蒙》(“Henry Esmond”),可是我在十余岁时候虽能欣赏《西行记》的好处,《亨利埃士蒙》的真滋味却完全体会不到,后来渐渐回想起来,才疑心该书中的风味一定比我当时所能欣赏的还要丰富得多。
  
  由是可知读书有二方面,一是作者,一是读者。对于所得的实益,读者由他自己的见识和经验所贡献的份量,是和作者自己一样多的。宋儒程伊川先生谈到孔子的《论语》时说:“读《论语》,有读了全然无事者;有读了后,其中得一两句喜者;有读了后,知好之者;有读了后,直有不知手之舞之足之蹈之者。”
  
  我认为一个人发现他最爱好的作家,乃是他的知识发展上最重要的事情。世间确有一些人的心灵是类似的,一个人必须在古今的作家中,寻找一个心灵和他相似的作家。他只有这样才能够获得读书的真益处。一个人必须独立自主去寻出他的老师来,没有人知道谁是你最爱好的作家,也许甚至你自己也不知道。这跟一见倾心一样。人家不能叫读者去爱这个作家或那个作家,可是当读者找到了他所爱好的作家时,他自己就本能地知道了。关于这种发现作家的事情,我们可以提出一些著名的例证。有许多学者似乎生活于不同的时代里,相距多年,然而他们思想的方法和他们的情感却那么相似,使人在一本书里读到他们的文字时,好象看见自己的肖像一样。以中国人的语法说来,我们说这些相似的心灵是同一条灵魂的化身,例如有人说苏东坡是庄子或陶渊明转世的①,袁中郎是苏东坡转世的。苏东坡说,当他第一次读庄子的文章时,他觉得他自从幼年时代起似乎就一直在想着同样的事情,抱着同样的观念。当袁中郎有一晚在一本小诗集里,发见一个名叫徐文长的同代无名作家时,他由床上跳起,向他的朋友呼叫起来,他的朋友开始拿那本诗集来读,也叫起来,于是两人叫复读,读复叫,弄得他们的仆人疑惑不解。伊里奥特(George Eliot)说她第一次读到卢骚的作品时,好象受了电流的震击一样。尼采(Nietzsche)对于叔本华(Schopenhauer)也有同样的感觉,可是叔本华是一个乖张易怒的老师,而尼采是一个脾气暴躁的弟子,所以这个弟子后来反叛老师,是很自然的事情。
  
  只有这种读书方法,只有这种发见自己所爱好的作家的读书方法,才有益处可言。象一个男子和他的情人一见倾心一样,什么都没有问题了。她的高度,她的脸孔,她的头发的颜色,她的声调,和她的言笑,都是恰到好处的。一个青年认识这个作家,是不必经他的教师的指导的。这个作家是恰合他的心意的;他的风格,他的趣味,他的观念,他的思想方法,都是恰到好处的。于是读者开始把这个作家所写的东西全都拿来读了,因为他们之间有一种心灵上的联系,所以他把什么东西都吸收进去,毫不费力地消化了。这个作家自会有魔力吸引他,而他也乐自为所吸;过了相当的时候,他自己的声音相貌,一颦一笑,便渐与那个作家相似。这么一来,他真的浸润在他的文学情人的怀抱中,而由这些书籍中获得他的灵魂的食粮。过了几年之后,这种魔力消失了,他对这个情人有点感到厌倦,开始寻找一些新的文学情人;到他已经有过三四个情人,而把他们吃掉之后,他自己也成为一个作家了。有许多读者永不曾堕入情网,正如许多青年男女只会卖弄风情,而不能钟情于一个人。随便那个作家的作品,他们都可以读,一切作家的作品,他们都可以读,他们是不会有甚么成就的。
  
  这么一种读书艺术的观念,把那种视读书为责任或义务的见解完全打破了。在中国,常常有人鼓励学生“苦学”。有一个实行苦学的著名学者,有一次在夜间读书的时候打盹,便拿锥子在股上一刺。又有一个学者在夜间读书的时候,叫一个丫头站在他的旁边,看见他打盹便唤醒他。这真是荒谬的事情。如果一个人把书本排在面前,而在古代智慧的作家向他说话的时候打盹,那么,他应该干脆地上床去睡觉。把大针刺进小腿或叫丫头推醒他,对他都没有一点好处。这么一种人已经失掉一切读书的趣味了。有价值的学者不知道什么叫做“磨练”,也不知道什么叫做“苦学”。他们只是爱好书籍,情不自禁地一直读下去。
  
  这个问题解决之后,读书的时间和地点的问题也可以找到答案。读书没有合宜的时间和地点。一个人有读书的心境时,随便什么地方都可以读书。如果他知道读书的乐趣,他无论在学校内或学校外,都会读书,无论世界有没有学校,也都会读书。他甚至在最优良的学校里也可以读书。曾国藩在一封家书中,谈到他的四弟拟入京读较好的学校时说:“苟能发奋自立,则家塾可读书,即旷野之地,热闹之场,亦可读书,负薪牧豕,皆可读书。苟不能发奋自立,则家塾不宜读书,即清净之乡,神仙之境,皆不能读书。”有些人在要读书的时候,在书台前装腔作势,埋怨说他们读不下去,因为房间太冷,板凳太硬,或光线太强。也有些作家埋怨说他们写不出东西来,因为蚊子太多,稿纸发光,或马路上的声响太嘈杂。宋代大学者欧阳修说他的好文章都在“三上”得之,即枕上,马上,和厕上。有一个清代的著名学者顾千里据说在夏天有“裸体读经”的习惯。在另一方面,一个人不好读书,那么,一年四季都有不读书的正当理由:
  
    春天不是读书天;夏日炎炎最好眠;
  
    等到秋来冬又至,不如等待到来年。
  
  那么,什么是读书的真艺术呢?简单的答案就是有那种心情的时候便拿起书来读。一个人读书必须出其自然,才能够彻底享受读书的乐趣。他可以拿一本《离骚》或奥玛开俨(Omar Khayyam,波斯诗人)的作品,牵着他的爱人的手到河边去读。如果天上有可爱的白云,那么,让他们读白云而忘掉书本吧,或同时读书本和白云吧。在休憩的时候,吸一筒烟或喝一杯好茶则更妙不过。或许在一个雪夜,坐在炉前,炉上的水壶铿铿作响,身边放一盒淡巴菰,一个人拿了十数本哲学,经济学,诗歌,传记的书,堆在长椅上,然后闲逸地拿起几本来翻一翻,找到一本爱读的书时,便轻轻点起烟来吸着。金圣叹认为雪夜闭户读禁书,是人生最大的乐趣。陈继儒(眉公)描写读书的情调,最为美妙:“古人称书画为丛笺软卷,故读书开卷以闲适为尚。”在这种心境中,一个人对什么东西都能够容忍了。此位作家又曰:“真学士不以鲁鱼亥豕为意,好旅客登山不以路恶难行为意,看雪景者不以桥不固为意,卜居乡间者不以俗人为意,爱看花者不以酒劣为意。”
  
  关于读书的乐趣,我在中国最伟大的女诗人李清照(易安,1081—1141年)的自传里,找到一段最佳的描写。她的丈夫在太学作学生,每月领到生活费的时候,他们夫妻总立刻跑到相国寺去买碑文水果,回来夫妻相对展玩咀嚼,一面剥水果,一面赏碑帖,或者一面品佳茗,一面校勘各种不同的板本。他在《金石录后序》这篇自传小记里写道:
  
  余性偶强记,每饭罢,坐归来堂烹茶,指堆积书史,言某事在某书某卷第几页第几行,以中否角胜负,为饮茶先后。中即举杯大笑,至茶倾覆怀中,反不得饮而起。
  
  甘心老是乡矣!故虽外忧患困穷而志不屈。……于是几案罗列,枕席枕藉,意会心谋,目往神授,乐在声、色、狗、马之上。……
  
  这篇小记是她晚年丈夫已死的时候写的。当时她是个孤独的女人,因金兵侵入华北,只好避乱南方,到处漂泊。
  
    ①苏东坡曾做过一件卓绝的事情:他步陶渊明诗集的韵,写出整篇的诗来。在这些《和陶诗》后,他说他自己是陶渊明转世的;这个作家是他一生最崇拜的人物。

Sunday, February 7, 2016

大年三十记

        再过半小时就是农历初一了,今年早早地跟国内的亲朋好友拜完年,还惊喜地收到几个微信红包。去年红包满天飞的情形略有耳闻,今年身处其中有了一些参与感。好几位OSU的同学都回国过年了,朋友圈里充斥着各种胡吃海喝。今年的年夜饭由三胖掌厨,我负责打下手,蒜香羊排、三杯鸡、豆腐火锅,什锦炒菜,一道半熟的鱼象征年年有余,还煎了年糕寓意年年高升,凑齐六个菜,开了瓶红酒。只我们三人围坐一桌,灯光与红酒交相辉映,也算是有了些年味,其实在国内,往常在家过年也不过如此。

        很感恩在年前找到了工作,新工作离家20迈,开车近半小时。花了一周记行车路线,路线虽熟悉了,但每天高速上还是有些紧张。公司CEO是MIT毕业,co-founder目前是Stanford教授,一位同事是Berkeley的博士,还有个印度同事,接下来就是我了。喜欢跟厉害的人共事,可以学到很多。去年夏天刚成立的创业公司,需要做的很多,总感觉任重而道远。不过机遇和危机并存,自我发展的学习的机会很多,应该是个很好的工作机会。

        刚折腾完15年的报税,呆了两个州,领了失业补助,之前公司拖欠的工资又是单独发放,还没帮我交税,种种情形令我终于体会到为什么每个人都对报税退避三舍,想想之前二十多分钟就可以搞定的迅速真是今非昔比。虽然也可以埋头钻研繁琐的条款,但想想还是花点钱买软件解决。对于车与保险,真没这耐心。

         新的一年,认真工作,好好爱!

Saturday, January 30, 2016

Quotes from The Importance of Living

The Chinese philosopher is one who dreams with one eye open, who views life with love and sweet irony, who mixes his cynicism with a kindly tolerance, and who alternately wakes up from life's dream and then nods again, feeling more alive when he is dreaming than when he is awake, thereby investing his waking life with a dream-world quality. He sees with one eye closed and with one eye opened the futility of much that goes on around him and of his own endeavors, but barely retains enough sense of reality to determine to go through with it. He is seldom disillusioned because he has no illusions, and seldom disappointed because he never had extravagant hopes . In this way his spirit is emancipated.

Chinese philosophy of living: great realism, inadequate idealism, a high sense of humor, and a high poetic sensitivity to life and nature.

Thursday, January 21, 2016

查尔斯顿——美和历史的故乡

        为何选择查尔斯顿?是因为多彩缤纷的宅邸,铺着鹅卵石的街道,垂涎许久的餐厅,还是那里慵懒宜人的氛围?不论何种动机,它都散发着令人难以抗拒的吸引力,召唤着旅行者们来到这个美丽的南方小城。




       作为一个老牌的南方旅游城市,查尔斯顿已经连续四年被评为最美的美国城市(2010-2014)。虽然旅游的黄金季还没到,有着些许清冷的城市仍让我们流连忘返。早晨,在熙光中醒来,城中林立的教堂沐浴着晨光。城市没什么高楼,一座座古老的教堂标记着地标。


        市中心的法国区不可错过,这里精美的建筑群令人忘了身在何方。在当地政府和专家共同努力下,很多失修破旧的老房子又重现生机,他们还会每年进行评比,给精心维护的房子颁发奖章。每座各有特色的房子都在述说着属于它的历史,谁知道下个转角会邂逅什么样的故事?不知是不是因为街道狭窄,这里还有类似哈利波特里的1/2门牌号,忍不住更加好奇大门掩映下的那户人家藏着怎样的秘密。












   走进几家已被辟为展览室的老宅,听着三百多年的沧桑被一一道来。经历过飓风、地震、火灾、战争的老宅几经易主,家中陈设也是流落四方。听说老宅要变博物馆,后人们纷纷把家族的家什器皿一一寄回,被重新规整摆放成原有的模样,才有了如今的机会让后人瞻仰历史的荣光。见到了很多家族的画像,精美绝伦的银器,南北战争时的通行证、钱币以及宣布解放的签名。可惜屋内都禁止拍照,只能把那些记忆留在脑海里。










        早年的南方是农场主的天堂,无数从非洲贩卖来的黑奴在市场被交易,运气好的被农场主看上,从此与土地朝夕相伴,辛苦一生。种植园时代里,因为稻米、棉花、靛蓝的丰收,这里曾是美国最富裕的城市之一。当年黑奴交易里的种种尘嚣已化为历史,只有那废弃的庄园里还能依稀辨认出几分当年的繁华。十八世纪种植稻米为主的米德尔顿庄园,如今已经成为美国历史最悠久的园林花园。没赶上杜鹃花和山茶花的花季,当地人说去年圣诞节气温高,花期提前,我们到的那几天气温又骤降,许多本来怒放的花散落满地。脑补了下繁花似锦的场面,决定下次再来弥补遗憾。






      
        三天的时间着实太短,我们走马观花,刚刚熟悉了点南方口音和城市,就不得不跟它挥别。再见,下次再见。