On the way back HOME-- 2005/01/02-07 Paris>

Museum Days 博物館日

Paris is famous for its numerous, outstanding museums, including the most famous ones such as Musée du Louvre (羅浮宮), Musée D’orsay(奧塞美術館), Centre Culturel G. Pompidou (龐畢度美術館) and so on. For the Louvre and Musée D’orsay, due to my limited knowledge of art history, I mainly went there as “tourists,” giving only passing glances at particular things. Thinking on the other hand, people can never go through these places within a week’s or month’s time. I guess it depends on one’s own interests and perhaps professional needs. However, what I feel the most touching in these museums are the people scattered around-- the children sitting around the paintings and perceiving the famous works by their innocent eyes, and to see an old lady or a young man make sketches of sculptures or paintings on their scrapbooks. In those days, I was often wondering: what kind of cultural immersion would allow these people indulge themselves in the seemingly unrealistic world of art? What kind of culture and education they had to appreciate and learn among these treasures of the world? How did the atmosphere build up? These are rhetorical questions, yet more or less I felt that it is due to the long-term history of remaining their inherent culture and absorb outside influences. As time goes by, combining the traditions and new stimulants and eliminating the superfluous part, it presents its quintessence. (精華)

While I was in Centre George Pompidou, the celebrated modern art museum, I started to rethink about the importance of traditional and ancient things. It is strange to relate “traditions” with “avant-garde/ modern” exhibitions, is it? I found numerous modern creations in this museum that I cannot understand at all. For example, there is room with irregular order of different words from different languages. Or there is one side of wall painted gray and it s called “Gray.” Modern artists use so many different materials and ways to make their creations. Some of them seem awkward and hard to understand. Yet they carry something out of daily life materials. The question is: how do people distinguish them from arts to foolish acts? Where to find the meaning? It is just like the Absurd drama in the 20tth century which the characters are repeating the same sentences and meaningless actions in the plays. And interestingly, it presents the meaning that people do not need to search for meanings for everything in lives since it is most of the time meaningless. Coming back to the topic, how do people tell from art to fool? Without the basic principles accumulated by traditions, is it possible to create such a mess with meanings?

Too many questions that I need to think them over. Temporarily getting rid of these confusing questions, what impressed me the most are the sculptures and statues, which were created by a simple and concise mind, in Musée Rodin (羅丹美術館). Rodin’s works impressed me with its simplicity yet natural strength. The widely known “The Thinker,” sitting there, putting his right elbow on the left knee, contemplating. Frankly speaking, the figure is strangely set, but I did not feel it until I tried to imitate him later on. What I felt was the balance, as if he is the master of the world, considering the essence of the worldly affairs. His facial expression reveals the empathy and calmness with human beings. Being unusual at his time, Rodin preferred simple and direct cravings to exaggeratingly and luxuriously decorated arts. Observing his craving of “Hand,” one big hand comes out of purely white marble, stretches out, and naturally moves back, as if it’s alive. Simple and concise lines yet hold indescribable power! The simplest is the essence. Just like Rodin himself had insisted, doing the observation concisely and craving the simplest lines to directly present the most strength of life.

Interesting episodes

I spent the whole week in Paris and apart from the spots I mentioned above, there were also interesting interludes. I visited a cemetery in Clichy, surprisingly saw Zola’s (左拉) head sculpture with sharp and solemn eyesight, felt his concerns for the mankind. Walking along the Seine(塞納河) and enjoying the city sights. Having a cup of chocolate in a local café. Meeting excellent friends in the hostel, including my passionate Spanish roommate who is inviting me to her house in Madrid at the moment. Also the Italian friends who speak little English but strive to teach me how to say “thanks” and “you’re welcome” and the word for “you’re welcome” actually means “pray” as well in Italian. I remembered the words now but I certainly forgot how I realize that. Of course I won’t expect them to remember how to say “我們走吧”(here we go!) in Chinese. :p Last but not least, the delicious French FOOD: the simple soft crèpe, the plain baguette, the various kinds of cheese, the “strong” hot chocolate with added sugar and so on. Perhaps some day in the future, when I am having a cut-open baguette and put thick butter and jam on it, or intend to add sugar in my hot chocolate, I will remember that I was once “living” in Paris, France, Europe.


On the way home

I came to Paris as a homeless child with confusions about life. The wander in Paris stirred up many questions. On my way back home, I happened to meet a maturer wanderer, a musician and composer who roves around the world, and discussed about these experiences. We talked a lot but I remembered merely one sentence, since it greatly shocked me, “You cannot merely speak about ‘experiencing culture’ in Europe. During these trips and in your currant life, you must find the direction, according to your core value.” This might be cliché, which everyone is able to say, but cliché works when it appears at the right moment. I realized that the wander couldn’t be fooling around; instead I have to find meanings based on my own intrinsic values even though the surrounding trifles might be meaningless.


I am on the way back home.



Recorded/Feb. 12th. 2005

Marvelous Imagination--2004/12/31-01/01 Paris

Paris is a city that allows us to throw ourselves in fantasies, including romance. Moreover, Paris itself is with marvelous imaginations.

New Year’s Eve
I went to Paris for the New Year. At that time, I have nothing except a one-way train ticket to Paris and my backpack. I finally decided to get rid of my residence in the noisy and expensive international student house. Not being able to find a decent living that soon, I bought the ticket and headed to this famous and “romantic” city without any key and reservations of hostels. I felt a little nervous, yet delight, and expected the coming adventure.

I have to say that I was in good luck. I randomly got into a hostel in Clichy and they told me they still had one bed left in this popular occasion. I mean it! When I got off the train, I thought everyone in the world was in Paris! Imagine the crowds push back and forth, without some space for me, this little girl, to take a deep breath. Long lines at the information desk, rare space for luggage on the metro, everything reminded me of Taipei, where I could not even get on trains in the busy off-work hours. Sigh..this was really NOT a good first impression. I was afraid that I was going to ruin my first days of the New Year.
Nevertheless, I was there and I would not let this kind of “tragedy” happen on me. I joined the chats with the friends I met in the hostel as usual and after a few rounds of random chat we finally set off, planning to visit Eiffel Tower(艾菲爾鐵塔) at night and later on joined the celebrations for New Year in Avenue des Champs Elysée(香榭里舍大道). These are so famous spots and in a sense, they represent the imagination of “romance.” I have to admit that the night scene in Paris is wondrous, especially a lot flashlights and bright decorations were added due to the coming New Year celebrations; however, what we met first was not very “romantic” but interesting troubles.

Is it romantic to casually begin a French chat with an old gentleman one meets on the street corner in Paris? Perhaps, perhaps not. We accidentally started talking with an old Turkish gentleman who has lived in Paris for 31 years and was enthusiastic about leading us to Eiffel Tower. Hence, Sylvia, Louis, and Jo, two Taiwanese girls and one boy from HongKong, without proper French speaking ability, gladly accepted this warm-hearted help. Later on, we found out that the only advantage of letting him guide us was that he could ask the direction in French! He himself was not sure how to go to the Eiffel Tower, either! And he actually speaks little English. After striving to communicate with broken French words (attention! Not sentences, “words”), we got to our destination but much later than expected. After appreciating the splendid Eiffel Tower with us, he left without more words but two warm kisses on our cheeks and disappeared in the crowd. Alone, at the starting point of the New Year’s festivity, when there were crowds everywhere.

(In an instant, I felt as if I understood why the Turkish old gentleman always smiled with slight sadness. The same mood of wander, the same fondness to the place where we were at the moment, yet at the New Year’s time, the misses to particular people or things dominate part of our joyous hearts. Being alone at the moment while others were in revelry was too ..lonely...)

It was nearly midnight, a moment that everyone in the crowd has been waiting for so long, the last few minutes of 2004. Bright lights were hanged on the trees on both sides. Crowds gathered on the long walk from Arc de Triomphe Etoile(凱旋門) to Place de la Concord(協和廣場) and left little space for strolling. Although there were crowds and we heard some noises made by youngsters, in general people were very calm. We saw some ladies and gentlemen had champagne at hand; some youngsters with phosphorescent sticks or circles; much more tourists hold cameras taking shots of the amazing crowd and expecting an excellent moment. Strangely it was very calm, not much deliberate make-up of atmosphere, just natural and people were waiting. No countdowns, no one knew that exact time, especially when our watches have already passed 12 o’clock. People started to feel a bit uneasy, as if we did not know what we were exactly waiting for. The couple standing in front of us were hesitating and eventually decided to open the champagne…just at the moment we saw the bright signs of “Paris 2005” starts sparkling and people, in the instant, released the suppressed cheers. While people hugged each other and wished one another “Bonne Année”(Happy New Year), the splendid fireworks brightened the dark sky!

Whenever I tell told my friends that I went to Paris on New Year’s eve, most of them have the same reaction: oh..how wonderful!! Is it really so? I have to say, we still need rich imagination to feel the lasting romantic atmosphere in Paris. This is not something cliché and can be just spoken out. This is something real and something must be felt by heart. As for me, I was very glad that at the moment of this New Year, if it is fairly important, I was with another girl from Taiwan, sharing the misses and joy. However, the Parisians amazed me with their temperate ways of welcoming the New Year—without shows and noises but pure joy and warm cheers, gathering around in the same place. Yet, I cannot stop wondering that there must be much more drunk people in the local pubs yelling out their cheers.



Montmartre 蒙馬特

Please do not think that I came to Paris merely for joining the New Year’s merriment. To speak the truth, I was just as curious as usual and wondered how Parisians celebrate New Year. It was a bad habit that I was so used to it that I did not try harder to observe people while I was in Taiwan. However, it is never too late to realize the fact.

New Year’s Day was also my start of exploring Paris. By instinct, I picked Montmartre, the place where Vincent van Gogh stayed when he was in Paris, to be my first destination. Perhaps because of living in Holland, now I favored everything related to the Netherlands, especially a few Dutch artists. Due to their cultural developments, there were not so many famous artists in Dutch history. However, they are very proud of Vincent van Gogh and Rembrandt. The Netherlands is a small country without such abundant and diverse culture as in France, yet the people realize their history and culture and furthermore truly appreciated. In the mean time, they also accept and respect others’ treasures. My European friends sometimes joke at the Dutch people as not having their own real culture, however, perhaps it is why they can survive and remain their status in the world by widely accept all kinds of differences, yet do not forget their history and identity.

I had strayed from my topic. Montmartre, the place where Vincent van Gogh had stayed, locates on a hill in the northern part of Paris. Climbing up to the hilltop we can see the overview of Paris. The scene is extremely wonderful at night! On the way to the top, I passed by Van Gogh’s previous residence and found that the building itself is not peculiar but the surrounding area was so colorful. Red and green spaced in-between on the roof of the shops, with light yellow-golden getting through the houses. Van Gogh’s works became more and more dynamic after his moving to Paris. I suppose the environment gave huge influences.

I cannot resist on the aroma of crèpe（可麗餅）and bought one with fromage(cheese) in one of the small snacks stores along the way. To my surprise, unlike the crispy ones I had in Taiwan, it was very soft. I quickly had a big bite and felt satisfied when feeling the cheese melted in my mouth and seeing the melted cheese flows out at the same time. Meanwhile, I went around the Place du Tertre, a small ground that many painters gathered to do paintings, using different materials such as watercolor, oil painting, sketch, wax or crayon. Here is a popular tourists’s area as well so these come-and-go visitors become the most-welcomed models for the painters. (Of course they have to pay!) I was secretly thinking: it’ll be great if we can have one place like this in Taiwan.

Besides the enjoyment of vision, “listen,” there was music in the air. Not very far from the painting area, there was a white-haired gentleman playing the bass viol (低音大提琴). Whether the tune is familiar or unfamiliar, people enjoyed the low and gentle sounds. Listen to the music, I slightly felt both the warmth and loneliness being a wanderer in Paris.

Arts is not merely arts. Art is life.

(continued)



Recorded/Feb. 12th, 2005

Alone but not Lonely--2004/11/06-07 Trier

Waving goodbye to the dignified Luxembourg City, less than one hour later, I arrived Trier, one of the oldest cities in Germany that is famous for its ancient Roman architectures and historical remains. Also, Karl Marx was born here and his birthplace is now a museum of his life records attracting tourists all over the world. As for me, the reason why I come here is for my keypal’s rock-and-roll concert. It will start in the evening. So I decide to visit the most famous site in Trier first: Potra Nigra, the so-called “Black Wall” in English.

Following the evident signs from the station, after about ten minutes walk I saw the ancient wall standing on the side of the street. The tall and black “Potra Nigra” was once the gate of a Roman fortress that is considered as the best-preserved structure from 2nd-century. Frankly speaking, I do not particularly favor ancient things. Therefore, after taking some pictures, I jumped on a city tour “train” at the last minute, thinking that I might know the historical sites better through the city guide. We did go around the city and witnessed the antique architectures that stand side by side with the modern houses. What is interesting here is that I never feel strange about this city design but feel interested at how they handle the juxtaposition so well. It gives quite a different feeling to the whole city, intermingling the ancient elements with the modern scenes in the same space. So far, I started to ponder on the so-called “aesthetic feelings”(美感, not sure of its English expression..anyone has opinions?) in the whole European cultural sphere.

While thinking about these issues, I was searching for my hostel too. (Amazingly this time I have accurate sense of direction.) Here I met two great companions in my story in Trier: “Traveller” Debbie and “Archaeologist” Geert. Debbie is from Australia and impressed me with sharp self-introduction: hi, I’m Debbie and I’m a “traveler!” Moreover, after Geert, a tall and acute Dutch man, joined the chat, I was thrown into their rapid exchange of musical information and discussion on many other things that I was not so familiar with before. (I often feel lost while chatting with these people and reflect on my previous life experiences.) Alright, since I was going to join a rock-and-roll concert, “Let’s go!” Hence, my new friends and I went to the evening concert together!!

We had a crazy evening. The band played very well and aroused the “hot” atmosphere in the small pub. It was “heavy” (at least to me) alternative rock-and-roll. My two new enthusiastic friends soon got into chats with the players since they love the music they played and I, feeling less pressured, enjoyed the “real” chat with my long-term keypal. Although I do not prefer this genre of music, I admire his insistence on making music and his devotion to their own works. They all have different careers in the daytime, yet they strive to maintain their interests and dreams of being “another person” in their lives.

Later on, when I was reviewing my trip, something just came to my mind: I was taking a casual stroll and having meaningful conversations with a French gentleman in the beautiful Luxembourg City in the morning and joining a crazy evening concert in a local German pub with all the people enjoying a glass of beer. How colorful life it is!!

The next morning, since Debbie needed to take the morning train to Paris, Geert and I woke up early and had the “last” cup of coffee and hot bread with her in our homey kitchen. As usual we casually talked about everything and then we sent her to the station. We hugged and said “see you later.” True, “see you later,” as lonely travelers, who knows where we might bump into each other somewhen…really, WHO KNOWS?!

Due to the lack of money, Geert decided later on to drive straight back to Holland. Before he left, he showed me his collection from Trier—the ancient coins, bullets, stirrups, covered with soil—and explained to me about their history; meanwhile showed me the equipment he used to detect these things underground. He is really an “archaeologist!” Though not having an academic degree on Archeology, he has more enthusiasm than some of the “scholars” I would say. I could not forget the “heat” I felt when he firmly suggested me, “Ting-Yu, go and see the Romanique brűe (Ancient Roman Bridge), you can’t miss it!” Didn’t have to look into his sparkling eyes, I could feel the zeal by his firm tone. Therefore, instead of visiting the unfamiliar Marx museum, I turned to Mosel River, hoping to witness the ancient and functional (‘til nowadays) Roman bridge.

The two-thousand-year old Roman Bridge, which hangs across Mosel River, still functions nowadays. While I myself walked smilingly across the bridge, I felt calm, yet something slightly different from my previous experiences observing the “ancient” materials. Watching all the cars and people walking across the bridge to the other side of Trier, I witnessed its lasting function and the historical value. What makes it worth visiting? What makes us feel that some places or spots that we must view? I know I shall find a concrete answer in the following journey.

Walking along the riverbank, I was memorizing the people and experiences I encountered in these two days and moreover, enjoyed the freedom of traveling alone in Europe. People are various and through the talks with them I am learning different attitudes and other perspectives of thinking. So hard to describe, yet they are so real.

It was almost time for my train back to Leiden. Heading to the station, strangely I did not feel any reluctance to leave. I know I will miss this place and the people I encountered here, yet perhaps I have learnt part of the “let it go” attitude and know that our journey will always continue, in every part of life, and everywhere in this world.

Life is a journey, and on the other hand, the journey is part of our lives. Just let it be natural.


recorded/Nov.20, 2004

First trip alone-2004/11/05-06 Luxemburg

After two-month stay in Holland, Jo decided to give herself a chance to travel alone. Coincidentally, at the time my keypal from Germany invited me to join his performance in rock-and-roll in Trier, a small German city that is very close to the border between Germany and Luxembourg. Therefore, while everyone is drowning in studies, I set off from Leiden to Luxembourg City in the morning of November 5th, beginning my first experience of traveling alone and moreover, an extremely fruitful and unforgettable journey.

I still remember the exciting feeling when I got on the train. I have to transfer trains in Rotterdam and then in Brussels (Belgium). It would take me about five hours to reach Luxembourg City. The first interesting thing I realized was the various “language” uses along the way. When we were still in the Netherlands, I still heard the more or less “familiar” Dutch. However, when we were getting to Belgium, I suddenly heard “Guten morgen!”(good morning in German) from the lady who sells drinks and snacks on the train. After transferring in Brussels, I was “shocked” by the ticket inspector(查票員) with the warm “Bonjour!”(“Good day” in French). At that moment, unfortunately the only word came to my mind was “Dank u wel!”(“Thank you” in Dutch). Perceiving my confusion and “disability” in switching languages, the inspector “kindly” started to speak English to me. However, afterwards I was still in panic and felt that I lost the ability of speaking for quite a while. I gained the similar feeling later on when I was in Luxembourg, perceiving the juxtaposition of French and German in every brand or sign. I did not intend to be exaggerating, but indeed I feel amazed that they can switch from one language to another in a short time and most of the time handle them well. Although I gradually realized that it is necessary for them to do so, especially in small countries such as Holland, Denmark, Belgium, or Luxembourg, people need to speak several languages in order to keep contact with the world. Moreover, the environment allows them to learn and practice these languages beside their mother tongues. I suppose that the uses of language not only reveal their multi-lingual environment but also show their awareness in getting direct contact with the world instead of limiting themselves in their own countries.

Jumping off the train in Luxembourg, I felt a certain kind of strangeness in a world full of French and German but English. Standing among the crowd in a modern city full of shops without understanding the language, I suddenly had the awareness of my loneliness. Nonetheless, loneliness vanished when the spectacular view surprisingly appeared itself under a busy highway. In the upper part, it is the main road in the city and cars and motors run everywhere; by contrast, the downward part is a natural spectacular view which is called “Pétrusse” I suppose. Among the simple yet cute houses, the brook wiggles through the whole serenity with the tall conifer trees, decorated by the fallen leaves of different colors (yellow, red, orange, even dark purple ) all along the riverbank. Walking down the long stairs and enter the wonderland, the feeling is so unreal! There are only a few people scattering around the huge space, enjoying the serenity among the woods. I raise my eyes to catch the old bridges hang across the woods with ancient dignity. The whole space is so peaceful, presenting itself under the bustling city center. Feeling carefree, I still need to find my hostel before the sky gets darker.

After dinner, my newly-known roommate Michelle and I went out for an evening walk. The magnificent castles stand firmly at night with the embellishments of twinkling lights. The wonder at night makes me regret of the lack of vocabularies for describing. I felt like I live in a castle with a certain kind of romantic mood, indulging myself in the mysterious yet impressive view. Sometimes, “silence” might be the best description and reaction to this wonder.

The next morning, I woke up early and decided to go for a walk in “Wenzel Walk,” which is famous for its tour named “A thousand year in hundred minutes,” and then head for a history and art museum. Unexpectedly, I bumped into a French gentleman who lived in the same hostel as I did and we started to chat. Nicolas, from Marseille, is going to work in the Centre Européen. I thought it is a big and important job, yet he merely said, “work is work, there is more for us in life.” His principle (work 8 hours and sleep 8 hours and “enjoy” life 8 hours a day) makes me reflect on the “workaholic” attitude I used to have. Involving in the European atmosphere, I often reflected the different attitudes towards life that I experienced here and there. Nothing is absolutely good or bad, but I think what I am gradually learning now is to seize the moment and enjoy NOW.

We talked a lot! We talked about cooking(he’s good at it), sailing(his hobby which makes him understand the uncertainty and lack of autonomy in the sea), the enjoyment of “getting lost”(we are both people who easily get lost but he enjoys getting lost and I am learning how to enjoy my lost..), etc etc. Meanwhile we walked around a large part of Luxembourg City, enjoying the marvelous castles and walls in daylight, passing by the traditional market, observing the peculiar style of houses in Luxembourg. At last, when standing in the high spot having a bird view of the city, he asked me to explore more in the future. Though staying in such a beautiful and peaceful place will be a great thing, he told me that I should see more, which convinced my struggling mind of staying in the same place. He sent me to the station and said that this is to bring the lonely travelers good luck and meet other companions in the next step of his/her journey. (Amazingly it did bring my great luck!) We never know if we can meet each other again or not, yet a morning’s talk is enough to leave an impression of a lifetime.

(continued..)


Recorded/Nov. 12th. 2004

旅行‧臉譜

旅行途中總會遇上形形色色的人。有些一見如故、恨未早識；有些僅短暫相遇，卻無法忘懷那充滿智慧之光的臉龐；更多的是，在剎那間，擦身而過路人的，一抹淺淺溫馨的微笑、一付真情流露的神情。這一付付記憶中的臉龐，均記錄了在天一方與人交流的珍貴記憶，譜出我無數的旅行故事。

記得一張沉靜卻充滿光采的臉，鼓舞了我躍躍欲試的流浪心情。初遇Nicolas，是在寧靜安和的盧森堡城(Luxemburg City)，微涼的十一月天。清早，步出青年旅館，兩旁盡是古老的石造城牆。心裡正盤算著要趕去參觀博物館，腳步卻因一吆喝聲「Lady!」而停了下來。抬頭仰望，城堡上，有一舉手隔空問好的中年男子。開玩笑地替他拍了張站在城堡塔台上的照片，趁興登上「城堡。」即到面對面，才看清他潛藏熱情的法國面孔，散發著曖曖含光的智慧。相偕走了一上午，在小城路間談論他浪跡天涯的經歷及飽嚐生命的智慧。臨別，站在一處制高點俯瞰全城。Nicolas問我一句話：「你覺得你會想再回到這個城市來嗎? (Do you think you’d like to come back here again?)」面對離別已經開始不捨的我，望著腳下寧靜優美的小城，想著環遊歐洲的野心，竟說不出話來。一時躊躇，他已替我下了定論：「別再回來了。(Don’t come back)」驚訝的我看著執著的他，聽他繼續說：「你還年輕，世界上還有很多地方等著你去走、去看、去探索，別膩在這。（You’re young and there are many fantastic places in this world waiting for you to see and to explore. Don’t linger here.）」這話激發我持續探索的意念，更增添繼續流浪的勇氣。

巴黎，未曾浪得虛名的「浪漫之都」，一張滿是皺紋的臉卻勾勒出這城市文化錯雜的真實面。跨年的熱鬧夜晚，這個孤單的土耳其老人卻在一個微暗的街道轉角與我們搭上話。他熱心地要帶領我們去香榭里謝大道與艾斐爾鐵塔，參加跨年狂歡晚會。以一點零碎的法文想盡辦法溝通，更多時候卻只能看著他略帶寂寞的微笑。在巴黎住了三十一年了，當年是為了做生意來的。如今，想回家，卻徘徊原地。到頭來仍是孤單、無奈地一個人遊走異鄉。在華麗攝人的巴黎歌劇院前，老人與我們這幾個陌生人一一吻頰道別，轉身一人沒入喧鬧的人群中。一抹落寞的微笑，還有他臉上歲月深鑿的痕跡，孤單的背影，刻畫出巴黎生活的現實。

一張蒼白瘦削，載著明亮雙眼的臉，教會了我無聲的溝通語言。在馬德里一個炎熱的夏日，因為一個偶然對視的微笑，聾啞的Jess拎著他的老式照相機，勇敢地上前跟我打招呼。這種時候，無論會講那種「語言」都派不上用場了。靈機一動，從提袋裡拿出紙筆畫一道從台灣飛到歐洲的線，再點點荷蘭的位置，表示我從那來的。他點點頭，指指荷蘭的上方，畫出丹麥的形狀。躲進青年旅館的廚房避烈日，順便煮飯。他在一旁拿著手機，讓我看裡面的照片，一邊用比美最佳演員的豐富表情和肢體動作，跟我介紹他那一群「狐群狗黨」的朋友：這個傢伙是酒鬼，那個女的總以為自己很性感，這男的煙抽的很兇…。末了，他竟也指指他的照相機，示意要幫我拍照！我笑了，眼睛避開鏡頭，即使是拍照，忽然也不想有任何一絲的做作。走的時候，大抵察覺到我欲「言」又止的表情，他拍拍我的肩，留下一個很溫柔的笑容。

Saaid是我在卡薩布蘭加舊城(medina)市集裡碰到的好夥伴。約莫十一、二歲的他，圓滾滾的眼睛臉上永遠帶著天真的靦腆笑容。記得第一回見到他，一見到我，就盯著我這東方面孔看，隨後卻有點害羞地躲進自己的舖子裡。注意到這可愛的小孩，我跟朋友也跟進舖子裡看貨。豈知不諳英語的他，看到客人上門，竟手忙腳亂地拿起衣服往自己身上套！於是，眼前呈現一幅可愛的畫面：一個活力充沛的摩洛哥小男孩，身上套著成年女性的正式服飾，傻傻地試圖與我們推銷貨品。Saaid的慌亂和燦爛笑容一直深印在我心中，他的活潑開朗中，有著必須幫忙理家持店的重任。一面心疼，另一面卻又為他的活潑與開放而心門大開。孩子挒嘴大笑的面孔，似乎總有一種特殊的魔力，左右人的心情。

除此之外，還有為了想解釋公車會開到那而跟我嘰哩咕嚕了一大段波蘭話的白髮老太太，很難忘記她助人認真「神聖」的神情；遇到問路，語言不通不知如何指點，決定乾脆開車載我回去的女人，友善的微笑給人很溫暖的感覺；在柏林的猶太博物館無意間與其攀談起來的工作人員，一個金髮碧眼的德國年輕人，談到德國人曾經殘暴的歷史，臉上戒慎恐懼、不能重蹈覆轍的嚴肅神情令人深感這個民族的誠實。還有…

有些臉孔，一生當遇一回，卻烙印在心中；描繪不清樣子，卻永遠記得剎那間的表情。這些面孔，在一個夢想的孩子努力與現實爭取平衡時，適時浮現腦海，給予最活生生的鼓舞。數列心中不同臉譜，默念世界之大，人情百樣，一顆流浪的心，蠢蠢欲動。

序

我其實是一個健忘又糊塗的旅者，
隨性所至， 隨心所欲， 伺機而動。
常常一張車票買了就走人，看到有感覺的東西印象就特別深刻。
好笑的是， 有時事情過後看旅遊書才發現我去的是什麼樣"偉大"的地標。
更多時候，耳聞道上朋友的分享，好奇地去一探究竟。

巴黎是閒走絕不會失望的地方。鑽進小路發現當年羅素的地盤 ，站在一所不知名的教堂旁朝聖。
倫敦給我的驚喜最多，Portebello Rd.上的古董店和摩洛哥商店有機會必再訪。
愛上的卻是龐大柏林的動力，東柏林區遺留下的共產氣息未盡，深沉多變的色彩卻點綴這塊過去的是非之地。

其實，我只是喜歡走走。
享受迷路的悠閒。
一個人靜靜。

現下的心境，非常適合去一個我不懂語言的國家
be a wanderer.



2006.07.13 02:17am

緣起..Origin..

我縮在誠品敦南的一個角落讀書。手裡攤開的書是Robert James Waller的「無盡鄉間路」（A Thousand Country Roads），講述著Robert Kincaid和 Francesca Johnson在「麥迪遜之橋」相遇分手之後的故事。吸引我的也許是他在講Robert，一個攝影家，浪跡天涯，親身體驗人生，以照片呈現他所看到的世界的角度與所說的話語，讓我想到一位認識的朋友的人生也是如此高潮迭起，還有自己暗許的一個承諾。一聯想起來，許多本就活躍在心中的面孔一一浮現，提醒著我許多未記錄的心情故事。於是，在仰頭看見窗外白雲反光的一剎那，想開始經營這個部落格。這是練習寫作，是給自己的記錄，從兩年前的故事，走到今日並將會繼續。我只悄悄地企盼，在這些瑣碎的片段中，有某一點能接觸到將要閱讀的你的心情－就像這本書跟我的互應一般。

2006.07.12 Eslite Café


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Translation

I adapted myself into a corner in Eslite Bookstore. The book in my hand is Robert James Waller’s A Thousand Country Roads, which talks about the sequent stories of Robert Kincaid and Francesca Johnson from Madison River. The point that attracts me is perhaps the way he talks about Robert, as a photographer, wanderer, experiencing life in person and furthermore the photos he takes along the way represent his peculiar angle of seeing the world and his words. It reminds me of an excellent friend’s exciting life as well as a hidden promise that I've made to myself. Many faces that lived in my heart emerged once I recalled and those unrecorded stories came to alive. Hence, at the moment that I see the glare of the white clouds outside of the window, I’m eager to start writing this blog. These are my writing practices, from two years ago up to present and ongoing, and also the record for myself. I merely hold a secret wish, that in these fragments of writing, there would be a tiny point which would be able to touch you—like what I involved and interacted with this book.