故事,你我他 Stories, Yours & Mine
故事,你我他 Stories, Yours & Mine
每個人都可能有故事可說,也有意見想發抒: 童年趣事或少年糗事,羅曼史或奮鬥史,周遊各地或天馬行空,每人所經歷或目睹過的,甜酸苦辣、五味雜陳, 每人也對周圍發生的事,上及寰宇、下至草木,各有想法;這些故事和念頭如果散失於歲月的煙塵里,多麼令人惋惜!何不提筆寫下或畫出來,登錄在這個園地上,讓大家共賞?
來稿形式不拘,諸如散文、詩詞、訪談等,也可以漫畫、插圖表達;英文,中文,简体,繁體 均可,文章歡迎附帶照片圖畫,更能帶來樂趣。稿件與詢問請經電郵送至: cecstories@gmail.com 詳情請按此。
Everyone has stories to tell and ideas to express. Be it childhood memories or youthful mischiefs, romantic overtures or life-changing adventures. It could be journeys, real or imagined, taken around the world or nearby. What each of us has lived through and witnessed is unique and worthy of remembering. There are also moments when we have ideas about something, be it about the universe or a blade of grass. What a loss it would be if we let these stories and ideas evaporate into the fog of time! Why not write them down or draw them out for all to enjoy?
Your submission may take any form, such as essays, poetry, interviews. It can also be comics or manga. Stories can be in English or Chinese - simplified or traditional. Photos and graphics are welcome. Email cecstories@gmail.com to send your submissions or inquiries. Please click here for details.
目錄
Table Of Contents
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I could never forget that day, July 7, 1937. Mother woke us up early in the morning.
“Get up! We are under attack.”
“Where?”
“At Lugou Bridge.”
“Where is the bridge?”
“Outside of Beiping.”
“Just a bridge?”
“No, they marched into the city.”
“What’s going to happen next?”
“We are at war.”
It seemed to me that we had always been at war: Opium War, Jiawu Sea Battle, Boxer Uprising, 9/18, 3/28,… China lost every one of them and was asked to pay tens of thousands of ounces of silver, to give away our land: Hong Kong, Taiwan, Liuqiu, three northeast provinces (Manchuria) and to carve out concessions in all our major cities, Tianjin, Shanghai, Qingdao, Hankow, Xiamen, Shantou and Guangzhou. We were forced to yield mineral right, navigation right on inland waters and customs control to the colonialists.
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“Which country this time?” I asked.
“Japan. They claimed that one of their foot soldiers was missing during the morning roll call,” Mother said.
“Just one?”
“I doubt if there were any.”
“What does it have to do with us?”
“They don’t need justification or explanation. They just launched a search with columns of cavalry, armored cars and a whole army of foot soldiers.”
“Did we do anything?”
“Our border guard tried to stop them.”
“Did that work?”
“No, that gave them another justification to send their marines to attack the entire China coast.”
“All for just one missing soldier?”
“One or none, we are fighting back this time.”
Could China match the Japanese in arms and force? Before long, the Chinese capitol, Nanking, capitulated. For shock and awe, the Japanese went on a non-stop slaughtering and raping spree of the defenseless residents for days to celebrate. Millions were massacred. Soon it came upon us in Wuhan. Bombs fell. We spent most of our days in air raid shelters. But they were only good for shrapnel, not bombs.
Wuhan was located in the center of eastern China, upstream of Nanking and Shanghai and downstream of Chungking on the Yangtze River. It was the center of the steel industry and Weaponry and the hub of communication. Two main railroads, the Beiping-Hankow RR and the Guangdong-Hankow RR, had their terminals in Wuhan. My father was the general manager of the latter. As soon as the war broke out, my father directed all his trains to haul soldiers from Guangdong and Guangxi provinces to the front in the north. The returning trains carried wounded soldiers from the front. Mother turned our house into a field hospital. Bamboo awnings were erected over our garden and tennis court to serve as hospital wards. City folks swarmed the market to stock up food. Those who could afford more, scrambled for boats going up the Yangtze River into interior China.
It did not take long for the Japanese army to reach Wuhan. While my father was trying to keep the train running to the last minute to evacuate whatever equipment and refugees he could out of Wuhan, Mother took us kids on a run.
At first, we were able to keep one step ahead of the advancing Japanese troops. When the last city on the coast fell into Japanese hands, we headed inland for Guilin. On the 8th of December in 1941, Japan launched an attack on all the colonies and concessions occupied by the Western countries throughout the Pacific region. We lost contact with my sister in Hong Kong and heard no news of my father in Haiphong, Annam (now Vietnam). With a teacher’s salary, Mother could no longer support a family of four. My older brother, Ted, and I were taken in by a government school in Chungking for stranded overseas students. It took us a whole month hitchhiking on various trucks to travel the 800 km between Guilin and Chungking, A few months later Guilin fell. We were completely cut off from our family.
The Japanese troops kept on advancing and pushing forward on all fronts. It took them three years to take all the Western colonies in Southeast Asia. On the China front, they took Dushan, China’s last defense of its Interior. From there the Japanese tanks could roll into China’s war-time capital, Chungking, in just weeks or even days.
Ted and I quit school and joined the army. I just turned eighteen.
Three days after we were inducted in Chengdu, we were flown over the eastern Himalayas, known as the Hump, to Doom Dooma in India to join the Chinese force in the unified China-Burma-India campaign (CBI) against the Japanese invasion. The combined CBI force was under the command of a Chinese-speaking American general, Joseph Stilwell. From there we were transported on cattle trains and army trucks to Burma for combat training in jungle warfare.
“Welcome to Myitkyina!” an officer roared at the new recruits. “You have just made history. You are the first soldiers in China who can read and write.”
Was he ridiculing us?
“Before you come,” he continued. “No soldier in the entire Chinese history could read his own name pinned on his chest. Many of them didn’t even have names before they were conscripted from their peasantry. They were known as Wang Pot-face and Li Split-lip. But they are good fighters. After the American force failed to take Myitkyina, Gen. Stilwell sent in the Chinese soldiers. They were able to drive the elite Japanese army out. No other Chinese soldiers have ever done that before. That was not all. When they first arrived in Burma from China, with just 1000 of them in straw sandals, they broke through a 7000-men strong Japanese Division and rescued a British Division under siege at Yenangyaung. When the Japanese cut off all their escape routes, they climbed over a 10,000-foot high and uninhabited mountain to India. I have picked the best fighting Wang Pot-face and Li Split-lip as your trainers. Now let’s see if you can fight as well as they six weeks from now.”
Later we found out that the officer who addressed us was Gen. Sun Li-Ren, the commander of the Chinese New First Army we belonged to. He had personally led Wang Pot-face and Li Split-lip in all those battles.
Myitkyina, Yenangyaung, Wild mountain, Wang Pot-face,... I had no idea what he was talking about. What did I care? I came to fight the Japanese. I looked around. I could not see any people or signs of civilization. All I saw was a thick growth of bushes and trees. At night it howled in a weird sound of the wild. Is Myitkyina a city, a village or a jungle?
These Wang Pot-face and Li Split-lip turned out also to be good builders. After the General’s pep talk, they led us clearing out a plot for camp and used whatever we had chopped down to build barracks and latrine. A barrack consisted of a thatched roof supported by four posts. Latrine was deep holes in the ground that we could fill up when we left. Inside the barrack we built two rows of platforms, each slept seven next to each other like sardine in a can.
The next morning, we were wakened by the howling of a bugle before daybreak. We were given three minutes to fold our blankets as square as bricks, get dressed and fall in for a morning run. After the run, breakfast was served, rice and pork-and-bean out of cans. Training started immediately. Crawling, climbing, more running and target shooting in the entire morning. After another rice and pork-and-bean lunch, we donned full combat gears to play hide and seek in the jungle with blank bullets. Hell ended finally in late afternoon in the Irrawaddy River for bathing and clothes washing. It was as sweet as the Garden of Eden. Rice and pork-and-bean again for dinner. The menu remained the same throughout our training. Before taps, we had to clean our weapons and marched while singing resistance songs. Someone fell while marching. “Dead old peasant!” the sergeant cried out. “Go run around the camp five times. That will wake you up!”
Heroic action was discouraged. We were told it could jeopardize the security of the entire company. Instead we were taught to lie low, hide, sneak, communicate in silence and shoot only if we were sure to get an enemy on our single shot manually loading rifle.
“Why can’t we get the Tommy Guns like in the movies?” we asked.
“They are for the American gangsters,” our sergeant said. “They have chicken hearts and need the sound to boost up their courage. Single shot rifles are for sharpshooters. You cannot miss your target. If you do, you will become a target for the enemy.”
The only automatic weapon we had in the squad was an old Czech light machine gun carried by two tallest guys at the head of the squad. The only long distance weapon was a 60mm mortar carried by two shortest at the end of the squad.
The torture continued. We could not see the end of it.
Then one day, all hell broke loose. We were ordered to march continuously for a day and a night. We arrived at the outskirts of Bhamo, a town south of Myitkyina. We could not see anything beyond the jungle. But we could hear intense firing at a distance. Our order was to clear all possible ambushes in the jungles while the 38th Division was mounting an attack on the city. Occasionally an enemy mortar bomb would explode nearby, sending all of us face down on the ground. Lie low became the golden rule of the jungle. At the very first explosion, I lost all my senses. Ai Wen Yi, the 13-year-old kid in our squad, broke out crying like a baby. He pooped in his pants. As the second explosion took place, my senses returned. I tried to figure out where it had come from. On the third explosion, I hit back blind with the 60mm mortar I was in charge of. I had no way to tell what it had hit. The jungle was so thick that we could not see a single enemy, just snakes, leeches and mosquitoes.
We took Bhamo. But being on the flank we did not see a single Jap during the entire time. However, we had suffered quite a few casualties from their bombardment.
Next destination, Lashio. I swore, this time I would get as many of those bastards as I could before they got me.
But in the army, one never knew what was the next order. Instead of marching toward Lashio, we were flown back to China.
Destination Guangzhou.
The American C46s dropped us somewhere in Guangxi Province. From there we marched to a river where some barges were waiting for us. We floated down the river on them as far as the boatmen agreed to go. We landed on a no man’s land, nominally under Japanese occupation but populated by Chinese guerillas. We could run into either. However, we met none but water buffalos. Just as we spread out into attacking formation, Damn it! Those bastards surrendered.
Cowards!
We entered the city on foot firing no shots, taking no prisoners, meeting no resistance, seeing no celebration,… just like regular marching in a drill. On the sidewalks, there were kits staring at our leather boots and some Japanese soldiers walking freely and watching us. Who were the victors anyway?
When the Japanese in Guangzhou surrendered, they were not treated as prisoners of war. They were ordered to carry out duties such as garbage collection, street sweeping, maintenance of all public works and truck service. In exchange, they would be allowed to stay in their barracks and to walk freely on city streets. They were ordered to salute all Chinese soldiers regardless of their ranks.
We set camp at the former Sun Yat-Sen University campus in Shipai. One day, as a few of us ventured out into the city, we saw at a distance a Jap walking toward us. The bastard walked just like a Jap, aloof as if he still occupied the city. Blood rushed to my head.
“Did you see that Jap?” I said to my friends. “Let’s pretend not to have seen him. I am going to teach the bastard a lesson.”
We kept walking while telling jokes and laughing like drunken Japs. Just as I expected, the bastard passed us without saluting.
I roared out in Japanese the insult these bastards used to yell at Chinese,
“Baga Yalu!”
The bastard halted and quickly snapped his heels together. He raised a shaking hand to his eyebrow. Too late, my hand had already reached that bearded face. The slap knocked his glasses to the tip of his nose and his canoe-shaped hat onto the ground. I looked him in the eyes. But I could not see that ferocious, cruel and defiant animal that I had been chasing in the Burmese jungle and failed to see one. Instead, I saw an old man with an unshaven face. His beard was speckled-white.
Suddenly I felt like a hyena, who howled and laughed at the weaker prey and, when cornered by a stronger predator, could only show its teeth.
“These animals have no place in the Chinese army.” I heard Gen. Sun’s voice in my head.
Did he mean me?
Shame rushed to my face. I bent down and picked up the hat. I put it back on the Japanese soldier while his hand remained in the salute.
“What are you doing?” my friends asked in a tone of reprimand.
I hurriedly left them without saying anything.
I asked myself, What am I doing here? The war is over.
Then the order came down.
Destination Siping Jie.
Where is Siping Jie? A street in Manchuria? Soldiers were not allowed to ask or to think. But they had definitely told us that the war had ended. Now they sent me to war again? Didn’t Japan surrender?
“We are not going to fight the Japanese,” we were told. “We are going to fight the Communist?”
“Colonialist?”
“No, they are Chinese.”
Like being hit by the first mortar in Bhamo, I froze and became numb. I joined the army to fight the Japanese, to take revenge for the Chinese, to get back the land they took from us. Yet I had not killed a single Japanese. Now I am going to kill Chinese? Am I not Chinese myself? Are there Wang Pot-face and Li Split-lip in the Communist army?
On the night my unit was shipped out, I quietly slipped into the dark night of the Guangzhou streets…
A stranger showed up at my door one day earlier this year.
“I am Lai Wen-Fu,” said the man. He bowed and picked up my hand with both of his hands and shook emotionally. “Seeing you in person reinforced my faith in World Peace.”
Then I recalled the letter I got several months ago.
Dear Prof. Chow:
I am Lai Wen-Fu. Lai Jun-Chen was my father. When he passed away, I went through his papers and old letters. I found I was reading about a person I could not recognize. I did not know my father. At home, he was a typical Chinese father. There was no communication between father and son except lectures and orders. After reading what he wrote and what his friends wrote to him, I had a strong urge to get to know him. Then I came upon the letters you wrote to him. I sensed that there was a close comradeship between you two. I wonder if I could pay you a visit.
Of the younger generation, Lai Wen-Fu
But what did his visit have to do with World Peace?
I assumed he was referring to the wars in the Middle East and Ukraine. What a strange way of greeting! Before I could respond, Lai continued,
“I’ve been waiting for this chance to ask you how you and my father met.”
“Well, it was 76 years ago. We met on air when I ran my boat onto the Dongsha reef in South China Sea. The only person I contacted was your father. He was in charge of the company’s sea-to-shore radio station. I had never met him before. The message I received from him was, Rescue is on its way. When I got back to Kaohsung, I was fired. All my friends thought I deserved it. Your father was the only person who stood up for me. He pleaded for leniency with the Port Captain on my behalf that I was under the threat of a typhoon. It fell on deaf ears. But we became friends.
Six years later when I attempted to cross the Pacific Ocean on a Chinese sailing junk, I was denied the sailing permit for not having a sea-to-shore radio. Your father gave me a set of discarded shortwave radio and taught me how to operate it in Morse Codes. Shortly after we got out to sea, we ran into a typhoon and lost steerage near Diaoyu Islet. It was your father again, who guided me on air in how to call for help. A few hours later, a cargo ship appeared on the horizon.”
“See what I mean?” the young Lai said. “If two soldiers fighting on opposite sides in a war could meet on air and become good friends later, there is hope for the world to have lasting peace.”
“Was your dad a soldier?”
“During the Japanese invasion of China, he was drafted in Japan and sent to Northeast China.”
That was more than 80 years ago! The scene of the battle of Bhamo suddenly came back to me vividly.
“I was in Burma.”
“Taiwan was under Japanese occupation at the time. If my father were drafted in Taiwan, he would have been sent to Burma. You two could have fought against each other in the same battles.”
I did not know what to say. I just felt relieved that I had not killed any Japanese soldier in Burma, at least not any that I could see.
作者簡介:
Paul Chow本名周傳鈞,常用筆名“破橋”。1926年生於北京,其父周鐘岐於1920-1930年代先後任膠濟、平漢、粵漢鐵路副局長/經理,其母沈葆德為民國時期女性教育家。1937年日本進犯中國,正常的家庭生活就此中斷。1944年,剛滿18歲的周傳鈞與哥哥周傳基一同參軍抗日,赴緬加入新一軍。戰後從事出海及捕魚工作。1955年駕中國老式木製帆船橫渡太平洋,後於美國西北大學獲得物理學博士學位,此後從事大學物理、天文、電腦教學與顧問,並參與中國九年義務教育計畫中的教師培訓。1994年自加州州立大學北嶺校園退休後,從事寫作,出版了多部英文著作,並有中譯本。本文中關於抗日戰爭期間的家庭經歷於《沈葆德:用解放腳走路(Walking on Liberated Feet)》一書中有較詳細的記載。
下面是我保留至今的四样老物件,你说是“废物”?还是“古董”?应该如何处理?
1) 1950年代产品,柯達方盒相機,也是我人生中的第一個相機。
不調光圈,不調速度,不調焦距。620膠捲,室外,晴天,每次看準對象,一按上左方白色機關,都會有相當清晰的照片。1963年在台湾,我帶它上成功嶺,接受新兵训练。1964年又带去東港空軍幼校服预官役。同袍也借用,很受大家欢迎。
2) 1960年代錄音機。
1966年,母亲和我來美後,為她在Sears買的新式錄音機。因為母亲不懂英文,從台灣帶來一些錄音盘,裡面有廣播劇,相聲等等國語材料,供她消磨時間。1966年出國前,為了取得廣播劇錄音,特別去了趟中廣電台。一進去,就聽到廳內一口磁性京片子女性,談笑風生,原來就是大名鼎鼎的广播明星白茜如,母亲正是她粉絲。收音機裡白茜如總是個千嬌百媚的青春女角,面前的白茜如是位北方凖大媽。我說明來意,白茜如讚我孝心,收下我帶去的空膠帶盤,免費為我拷貝錄音數個她的廣播劇。該錄音機和全套錄音膠盤,完好保存至今。。。。。。。。。順便一提,母亲於1986年在美去世,享年84,安葬於趣石塢橡林墓園。兩年後,離她墓地兩步之遙,白茜如也安葬於此。墓碑上刻有:白茜如(陳白素蓉),1927-1988,河北寧津。
3) 1960年代Underwood打字機。
在台北買這個打字機,是姐為了準備留學,申請學校用。她出國後,自然由我接收。1964年,我帶著它到東港空軍幼校服教官役,因為下班後,在宿舍裡,要用它來應付一切申請留學信件。當時多位預官,有同樣需要。也有同僚乘機學打字,所以這個打字機著實為大眾服務了一番。後來這打字機跟我在1966年一起來美,寫畢業論文時,又派上用場。導師批評:成品太難看。把他的電動打字機借給我,完成論文打字。。。。。。。70年代,身邊稚女,喜歡站在打字機盒上,看我在書桌上做事。80年代,在小學的兒女,又用這打字機,都學會了打字。电脑时代开始,打字機從此退休。
4) 1960年代,转盘摇撥電話。 可愛,捨不得丟,還管用。
我們的花園之旅:
從普通草坪到可食用的樂園
王美欽 曾乃方
Recommendation by Editors
With Mediterranean-like climate and mild winters, Southern California is ideal for those who take on gardening as a hobby, be it for showy flowers, or harvest of delicious vegetable and fruits. In a recent talk by Meiqin Wang and Naifang Zeng, we found out this couple have taken their hobby to an entirely different level. Within a mere decade, they transformed a modest suburban backyard with lawns and concrete into a paradise on earth: lush with showy flowers, assortment of vegetables and thriving fruit trees all year round. Moreover, they have integrated what they learned about organic gardening and sustainable landscaping into the design and cultivation of this edible sanctuary. Their talk was illustrated by astonishing photos and conveyed with passion and sincerity. Their story enthralled everyone in the audience, and became a source of delight and inspiration.
Now Wang and Zeng made a video of their story to share on YouTube: Backyard Transformation: Edible Gardening in Southern California. Just like their presentation, this video is delightful and inspiring. In less than 10 minutes, they will take you on this enchanting journey of ten years. We highly recommend that you check it out.
編輯推薦
南加州四季如春,種花蒔草,甚至開拓果園菜圃,是很多人的嗜好。不久前聽了王美欽 (Meiqin Wang) 與曾乃方 (Naifang Zeng) 夫婦的演講,發現他們二位更上一層樓,不但短短十年間,從無到有,把幾方草坪,開墾成一片人間樂園,長滿了各色花木果蔬,而且汲取了各種有機栽培的知識,融匯貫通了永續性園藝的技術,他們把自己的經驗和心得娓娓道來,配合了精彩的照片,讓我們心馳神往, 得到很多啟發和靈感。
現在他們把這個故事,剪輯成一部YouTube短片: 「南加州自家庭院改造故事:可食庭院的十年旅程」(Backyard Transformation: Edible Gardening in Southern California),把他們的體驗、知識和感悟,通過鮮明細膩的畫面,與大家共享。這部不到十分鐘的短片,看來不僅興味盎然,且引人深思,教人動心又動腦,非常值得欣賞!
近幾年由於油價高漲和環保意識的覺醒,研發電動車的熱潮越來越盛,尤其是特斯拉(Tesla Motors)電動車上巿以來,風靡一時,各個廠家都在努力研發!
電動車與普通汽油車的不同是使用電力而非汽油,因而內燃機的所有零件都不再需要,電動車最主要的結構就只是電池、換流器和馬達。
公元1800年Volta發明了第一個電池後,愛迪生(Thomas Edison)繼而研發出更好的鉛酸電池,並得到專利。他又利用電池的直流電,發明了電燈泡等風靡一時的專利產品。愛迪生後來還把電池裝置在車上,成為最早期的電動車。不久,福特的Model T汽車上市,用汽油的內燃機成為主流,取代了愛迪生的電動車!早期電動車的致命傷是電池不可靠、不持久和電力不足。但今天的鋰電子電池,不僅十分穩定,電量也大幅增加,不但可以儲存數十千瓦小時(Kilo Watt Hour)的電力,而且還可以重複充電。目前電動車的主要瓶頸仍然是電池!因為電動車電池的行車里數還不夠高,電池用完後的充電時間依然太長,造成電動車所謂的行車焦慮感,而且废弃锂电池的处理,還是待解决的环保问题。这些都會讓很多人怯步不前。
換流器或整流器(Inverter)是電動車的主心骨和靈魂。開車時,電池的直流電要經過換流器轉換成交流電來驅動馬達。交流電的頻率決定馬達的行車速度,電壓和電流的大小則決定行車的加速力和載重力。因為電池儲存的是直流電,當電池所儲的電用完後,在充電的時候需要由換流器把普通的交流電轉換成直流電輸入電池。現在有些充電站已可以直接把直流電充入電池,就不用經過換流器了!
電動車的馬達和我們平時用的電風扇或果汁機的馬達都是同一原理,只不過電動車的馬達比較大。由於馬達的轉軸直接帶動車軸,因此速度和動力的變化也大得多。在愛迪生時代,一開始是使用直流電的,後來他實驗室的一位工程師特斯拉(Nikola Tesla)和夥伴發展出交流電。特斯拉又發明了交流電馬達,並獲得專利,此後交流電馬達便成為標準設計!工程师特斯拉可说是交流電馬達的祖師爺!
電動車的馬達多半是同步或感應馬達,利用磁電感應來轉動。換流器送過來電流的頻率和大小,決定馬達的速度和動力。電動車的設計比汽油車簡單太多,普通汽車的引擎、水箱、風扇、油箱,排氣管、火星塞等等都不再須要了,而且開車時沒有廢氣排出,有助環保。但電動車的行車里程還不夠長遠且價錢昂貴,若今後能發展出更輕更好更环保的電池,價錢也能更合理的話,電動車一定會更加普遍。
愛迪生創建電池,特斯拉發明馬達。
科學家攜手共進,電動車全力出發。
希望不久的將來,由于特斯拉與愛迪生的完美結合,能締造出節能減碳更完美的环保未來!
註:千瓦小時(kilo Watt hour)簡稱kWh,是用電量或儲電量的單位。電動車的說明書都會講明電池的kWh,可以開多少哩。就像汽車說明油箱有幾加侖,一加侖可以開多少哩一樣。
New
Manga
issue
Created by Tyler - 12 year old
You are solicited:
to come up with a “better” caption - either in English or Chinese.
to submit Mangas/Cartoons of your creation, with or without captions, for the next issue of CEC Stories to: CECstories@gmail.com
丟下好萊塢的影藝,千萬要躲過拉斯維加斯的紙醉金迷!趕快飛到中西部的密蘇里,看那大片的蜂蜜和玉米。過了密西西比,來到純樸的田納西,聽聽那裡的鄉村歌曲。南下來到邁阿密,看到美女的比基尼。飄洋過海到巴西,那裡地廣人稀。穿過大海來到西班牙的馬德里,那裡從不下雨。往北到巴黎,欣賞紅磨坊的舞藝。德國的轎車舉世第一,隣近的奧地利有迴腸盪氣的歌劇。看歌劇也要去意大利,還有維那斯的風光綺麗。歐洲的富裕,顯露無遺!回到亞洲古老的土耳其,看那裡千年的古蹟。看古蹟一定要去埃及,那裡也有千年的木乃伊。中東經過許多戰役,留下諸多痕跡,但是石油產地的沙烏地,仍有豐富的石油生意!非洲的歷史遺跡,曾經送出多少奴隸。如今紛紛獨立,爭取自主的權利。來到多島的印尼,嚐嚐那裡的沙嗲雞。最後回到中國的神州大地,讀讀那傳誦千古的三國演義,精彩的西遊記,紅樓的兒女情長和水滸的江湖俠義。遊歷南方古城大理,欣賞那裡的詩情畫意。西方的烏蘇梨和戈壁,有沙漠的無際。北方蒙古草原的水草豐裕。輾轉來到伊梨,美麗的那拉提在那裡等你。黃河長江醞育著中原大地。来到中原黄帝河南的故里,嚐嚐河南胡辣湯带来的家鄉記憶,順便帶回一些道口燒雞和涮里哈羊蹄。絲綢之路的傳說充滿神奇,一帶一路創建新的標記。隨著心意隨處去,去看台灣的歌仔戲,然後到北京去聽聽那字正腔圓的平劇。最後回到洛杉磯,一切都成了回憶!寫詩為記:
暢遊世界留足跡,奇幻之旅無邊際。
世事千古恆有異,都留心底成記憶。
人間萬事自成謎,想在腦海費猜疑。
凡塵往事浮雲依,尤如南柯一夢兮。
4/2/2025
Have VW - Will Travel
A story of Carla & Carlos
by Random Walker
In this sleepy afternoon, a boat or two are gliding over the azure water from one quaint village to another dotting the shoreline. Surrounded by cloud-piercing volcanoes, the immense Lago Atitlan is heavenly under a brilliant sky. Nourishing from the mountain springs, the lake is a paradise.
There are few visitors in Panajachel where we get out of our chartered taxi for a walk. In an empty parking lot by the lake is a lone 1974 VW camper van. It has an Ontario, Canada license plate. The owner is nowhere to be seen. Has the van really been driven from Canada through the U.S. and Mexico to here in Guatemala?
We once owned a 1982 VW camper van, which we drove with our two small kids to Alaska from Los Angeles in one summer. In that 7 week journey we slept in the van every night in a different campsite--except a one-day stay in my friend Andrew's Seattle home, and a 36 hour ferry ride on the open sea where we had a cabin with the van parked under deck. In those years, the van also took our family crisscrossing the U.S. a few times.
Nevertheless, the road conditions in Mexico and Guatemala are generally not as good as in the U.S. or Canada. A 35 year old vehicle would not make the trip any easier.
P and V, a sweet couple traveling with us, also feel akin to this VW. In 1978, they bought a brand new VW camper van fresh from the factory in Germany and drove around with their young son all over Europe for 6 months.
While we all are reminiscing about our own traveled past in front of the VW, its owners come back with their two infants, in time with a few grocery bags and a large fish in tow. Indeed, they have driven from Toronto to here, after a trans-Canada trip to Vancouver first.
VW camper van drivers are a village all of their own. They share a kindred spirit of happiness traveling the country and the world leisurely in their slow moving vehicles. A VW camper van has a propane stove, a frig, a water tank, and a wash basin with a faucet. Interior has hidden compact closets and drawers, as well as stow-away tables. Its seats fold into a double bed at night. It also has an upper-bunk bed when its top is propped up. When on the move, there are usually no rigid itineraries. It kinda goes where the van takes you. This free spirit leads, from time to time, to places of pleasant surprises. On road, VW camper van drivers would wave to one another. In campsites, they would trade travel stories, and profess how much they loved their moving bungalows.
Carlos, a Spaniard, carries the two year old son on his shoulders. Carla, an Italian, cradles the 3 month old baby in a pouch, who was born in Mexico City on this trip. Plus a dog, they plan to reach the southern tip of Chile in one year.
Theirs is a never ending travel story. Once they drove from Europe through Central Asia and India into Tibet. Eventually they reached the Mongolia Republic. Upon returning to China, they drove all the way to Vietnam. At the border, they crashed their van in an accident, and ended that trip.
One can tell that Carla is the motivator, while Carlos just being supportive. How many women would carry a pregnancy to full term and give birth on road? With a Spanish dad and an Italian mom, what language or languages does the 2 year old son speak? They will find out when he starts talking.
兒子多年不曾訪台,這次去台灣,帶了媳婦和剛滿七歲的孫女。我陪他們一家到處逛,遊覽了各種適合親子遊的名勝,又享受了日月潭的湖光山色。返美後,問他印象最深的是什麼?「看拆橋!」
橋指的是「和平新生行人天橋」,橫跨和平東路、新生南路,一角就對著大安森林公園入口,附近好幾所中小學,又近台大、師大。據說這橋從1982年開始,為民服務了四十多年,不少著名影視, 如《飲食男女》,都來取景過,也是婚紗照偏愛的背景。
為何拆橋?粉紅色的市府工程通知單,簡單扼要: 陸橋太舊, 橋墩又防礙視線, 為了安全云云。「11月22、23日深夜0時至清晨6時,拆除天橋。29、30日深夜至清晨拆除橋墩。」並宣告,相關工程如號誌燈、行人穿越道等,都會在同期施工。
我們傻了眼! 天橋就在我們租的AirBNB大樓之下,橫跨兩條八線大道。按我們在加州的經驗,這種規模的馬路工程,肯定會交通改道、挖地鋪路,日夜噪音充斥、灰沙飛揚,沒有幾個月是不會完事的!
兒子一家難得到台北,這工程怎麼偏偏排在他們在台的時段!我們跟房主交涉換房,他卻輕描淡寫,「沒關係的,你們高居十一樓,把窗子關了,開上空調就好了。放心吧,現在工務局施工會儘量避免干擾市民的!」我們將信將疑的留下來了。
告示說要拆橋的前幾天,我們每天出門逛街、蹓公園,到附近買水果、上館子或搭車出遊,街上平平常常,毫無大批工程隊將臨的預兆。有一天暮然回首,才發現馬路四邊豎起了新的信號燈,行人斑馬線也重新畫了,這些預備工程做得幾乎不著痕跡。
22日深夜,睡夢中,隱約聽到外面傳來隆隆的引擎聲,好奇心驅使我起身去陽台,兒子已經先我一步在探頭觀望,我們母子居高臨下,街面的情境讓我們瞠目結舌:
大馬路口燈火輝煌,照亮了大約七八輛各型重機具,兩隻巨手好似張牙舞爪的恐龍,大嘴咬準天橋的要害,左右上下搖幾搖,就拎起一部分橋身,平放在地上,接著,巨龍用尖利的牙齒把橋身啃成段落,然後分段銜到一旁的重型貨車平板上。旁邊幾台鏟土機把散落的鋼筋混擬土碎塊鏟起,倒入等在另一邊的砂石車中。
再仔細看,幾十個頭戴安全盔、身穿黃背心的工程人員,有的揮動信號燈在指揮,有的手拿各型工具,有的鋸斷鋼筋、有的敲碎混擬土,有的燒焊。還有人在路面上移動著幾十個舊輪胎,啊!原來在為馬路鋪墊子、保護路面!
重型貨車或砂石車載滿一車開走了,下一輛隨即滑入接班。鏟土機不停地移動,清除狼藉的地面。我們居高臨下,只見各式機具、卡車、眾多人員,分秒不停地動著,各盡其功能,工序複雜卻互相銜接,步調井然有序,就像按照著某種劇本在進行。奇妙的是,十一樓上雖然能隱隱聽到低沈的重機移動,但並沒有太多預想的刺耳噪音。
約莫兩小時後,我和兒子分別回房,繼續睡,媳婦和孫女在裏間,毫無動靜,顯然還沈睡著呢,還好沒被驚醒。
第二天早晨,我們一起床就往窗外望:大道的路面已沖洗得乾乾淨淨,交通熙熙攘攘一如平常,通行無阻,再看天橋,四段剩了兩段,幾個小時以前發生的那齣戲,宛如一場春夢。
此後類似的戲碼又重複了三次,兒子也興致勃勃的一再起床觀賞,第四夜過後,11/30日,我們踏出大樓,站在街角,大安森林公園連綿的蔥鬱樹木毫無阻攔的呈現在眼前,迴視左右是清爽開闊的大道,視野舒暢,龐然天橋已消失得無影無蹤:拆橋工程果真如期完工了。
兒子的專業是工程,這次目睹台北拆橋施工過程的效率,格外有感觸,怪不得成了他最難忘的回憶!
年紀到了. 你想要不覺得老, 好像也辦不到! 因為自己社交圈傳來的信息, 不斷的提醒自己, 老人如何長壽, 老人如何保健, 老人如何活得更加快樂, … 七大秘訣, 八項技能, 九條養生, 十個覺悟, 列條擧點, 句句在理. 說得輕鬆, 讀得自在. 只不過到了想要實踐的時候, 才察覺到 五花八門, 難以選擇. 而選定目標之後, 或者因環境不允許, 或者是自己毅力不夠, 以致半途而廢, 一事無成.
所以, 能夠參加這個每星期聚一次的爬山團體, 實在是非常幸運的, 它幫助我們完成了很大一部分老人身心健康的要求 - 運動和社交. 人數不多, 來去自如. 年歲相當, 進退有序. 相互扶持, 不急不緩. 沿途風景, 心曠神怡. 上山下海, 健康運動. 男生開路, 女生嘰喳. 各顯其能, 遠離癡呆. 午間聚餐, 周遊列國, 酸甜苦辣, 無所不包. 暫忘三高, 此樂何極.
回顧2024年的52個星期, 我們聚了45次, 次次讓人回味無窮. 展望2025, 相信也會一樣的精彩. 附上 2024 短短的回顧相冊 與大家分享 2024 山行的春夏秋冬.