甲骨 Oracle Bones

Peter Hessler’s Oracle Bones is so far the best English-language book on contemporary China I’ve read. It helped me, a Chinese, to understand better my people and my country in massive social transformations. Stories of ordinary people are told in a very calm and smooth tone. No dramatic climax, but touching and powerful because of the truthfulness in the very detailed observation and narration of individual lives across generations. Ancient and recent history of China is naturally weaved into the present, all relevant in expressing certain characters of Chinese culture and people that have traveled through time and space, withstanding great changes in their living environment. I would put the book on top of the reading list of everybody who is interested in gaining insight into the Chinese society, but tired of the “Doing Business in China” type that are swamping every book shop in Hong Kong.

In the end of the book, Mr. Hessler quoted the Chinese translation of a few lines from Whitman’s Leaves of Grass, and translated them back into English. Interesting to compare these to Whitman’s original. All irresistible lines.

我，痛苦和欢乐的歌手，今世和来世的统一者，
所有的暗示都接受了下来，加以利用，但又飞速的跃过了这些，
歌唱一件往事。

I, the singer of painful and joyous songs, the uniter
Of this life and the next,
Receiving all silent signs, using them all,
But then leaping across them at full speed,
Sing of the past.

(Whitman’s original:

I, chanter of pains and joys, uniter of here and hereafter,
Taking all hints to use them, but swiftly leaping beyond them,
A reminiscence sing. )

第一支椿 First Pile!

Yesterday evening a mail came in from an entrepreneur in Vietnam, for whose construction project we have been helping to raise money. The mail says: “Today 12 Nov at 11 am ICT according to the best time and date we drove the first pile. The pile number was #58. The depth was 35 meters.” The simple line struck me with a strong emotion. On an auspicious day, this must be a special moment in life for him, a moment to see his long cherished dream becoming a reality after years of patience, faith and hard work, and perhaps lots of frustration. Looking at the picture in which a small bunch of bright flowers, incenses, fruits, liquor and chickens are set on a wooden table in front of the huge machine, I became emotional as well, overwhelmed by the power of something real. That’s totally different from all the budgets, plans, financial projections in excel sheets. To the Power of something simple but real, cheers!

榕树湾的傍晚 Dusk Falls on Yung Shue Wan

一转眼，儿子已是英俊少年

周末带儿子乘天星小轮去九龙那边，给他在船上照了几张相。回来输入电脑一看，竟有点吃惊。什么时候这个在我怀里撒娇耍赖的小宝贝长成一个英俊少年了?! 六岁的生日刚过了一个多月啊。岁月走得太快， 想想有多久他没有赖着让我抱了。每一刻跟儿子在一起的时光都是无法重复的时光，那一刻的他，那一刻的我，那一刻的光线，那一刻的气息，都是我生命里一定要特别珍惜的福气。这一点, 就是他气得我掉眼泪的时候，也是不能忘的。

今夏最后的姜花 Last Ginger Flower of This Summer

如果若干年后在世界的某个角落，我回忆起现在的家，回忆起南丫岛, 那么从这回忆中飘来的气味一定是姜花了。那是一种淡淡的甜香，在夏日的田野中，能带给人一丝清凉。起得早的日子，若是来得及去榕树湾大街走一趟，常常可以花10元钱从一个女人那儿买一把她清早割下来满是花蕾的姜花，待傍晚踏着暮色归来，推开家门，等待你的正是这满屋淡淡的甜香。

秋天来了，姜花的季节也要过了。再放一把在窗前吧。我喜欢生活中这些交替的周而复始的变化，让你在任何一个季节总有些什么可以盼望的，即使在香港，也是如此。

Some years later and somewhere in the world, if I happen to reminiscing about my home today and about the Lamma Island, then wafted with the memory must be the scent of ginger flowers. Its delicate and sweet scent always feels refreshing when you walk in the summer fields. And On days when you are able to rise a bit early and have time to take a stroll along the Yung Shue Wan Main Street, you often have a chance to buy a bunch full of buds for HK$10 from a woman who just cut them from the field, and when you return in the deepending dusk, open your door, waiting for you is a full house of such delicate sweetness.

Autumn is on the way, and the seaon of ginger flowers will soon pass. Let me place another bunch in front of our window. I adore the cycles in life, the feeling of things leaving and returning, disappearing and emerging again and again, like the change of seasons. It gives you something to look forward to in any season, on any day, even in Hong Kong.

清晨的收获 Morning Harvest

南丫岛榕树湾码头, 晨早出海的人回来了, 收获不小啊! Coming back from the sea at Yung Shue Wan Pier, Lamma Island. Good harvest!

梦见蝴蝶 I Dreamed of A Butterfly

清晨，我在南丫岛的一片葱绿间行走。明明在岛上，却是一个从未到过的地方，并没有明显的路径，我却很明确方向似地在草丛中前行。最后到了一处灰色的废墟，原本象是一个方正的西式石亭。忽然一只巨大的黑色蝴蝶从身后飞来，先是恍惚的影子，然后就清晰的看见它翅膀上鲜艳的橙色斑点。这蝴蝶落在我的右臂上，安安静静地不走了，我看到它的眼睛望着我。我开始移动脚步离开这个废墟，它仍停在我的右臂上。这时不知从哪里冒一个又黑又瘦的小老头儿，问我：“这是哪一种花精啊？”我开始感到恐惧，用力把蝴蝶甩到地上，它落在草上，却也不飞走…

这时醒了，外面正下着大雨，醒的那一瞬间想着也许这只蝴蝶受了伤, 飞不动了，我为什么没有带它回家，喂它直到好了可以再飞？蝴蝶是吃什么的？…

梦究竟是什么呢? 有些梦会走出黑夜的暗影, 比某些发生过的事还真实，让你在清晰的光线中, 带着一丝困惑，不停回味。

In the first light of the morning, I walked in the green spring landscape on Lamma. This was an area on the island unfamiliar to me. Even without an obvious trail to follow, I seemed to know very well my destination and strode my way through the verdant bushes. In the end, I reached some grey ruins of what looked like a western-style stone pavilion originally. All of a sudden, a giant black butterfly came from behind. First just a faint shadow, then bright orange spots on its wings were sharply in front of my eyes. It landed quietly on my right arm and stayed, no fluttering. I caught sight of its eyes, which were currently gazing at me. I started to move out of the ruins, and the butterfly still clutched on my right arm and wouldn’t leave. At this moment emerged from nowhere a little dark-skinned old man. He approached and asked me: “This is the spirit of what flower?” A chill struck me and I swung my arm very hard, hoping to get rid of the butterfly. It fell onto the grass, still quietly, and didn’t fly away…

By now I was awake. The rain was pouring outside. For an instant, I worried that the butterfly got injured and could not fly any more. Why didn’t I bring it home, take care of it until it flies again? What does a butterfly feed on? …

What on earth is a dream? Some dreams break out of the darkness of night, appear more real than anything that has truly taken place, and push you into a bewilderment that lingers into the broad daylight and refuses to clear up.

Calorie count on the Menu

Today I read that California became the first American state to require restaurants to display the calorie count of each item on the menu, starting in 2011. This is absurd. Why cannot people simply live by common sense, not by numbers? It is exactly in California where I saw the most calorie conscious people examining labels on everything they put into their shopping carts, yet everyone came to the cashier with carts of foods that can easily reduce the world’s starvation by half. Perhaps it is also the US invention to use “unbiased” terms to refer to fat people as “gravity challenged” or “large and in charge”. What humiliation! I wonder what happened in this world to make us unable to live by the basic rules and principles with which human race has survived for thousands of years.

Below I quote somebody’s obituary to Common Sense.

'Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend, Common Sense, who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was, since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such valuable lessons as:

Knowing when to come in out of the rain; why the early bird gets the worm; Life isn't always fair; and maybe it was my fault.

Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you can earn) and reliable strategies (adults, not children, are in charge).

His health began to deteriorate rapidly when well-intentioned but overbearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a 6-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition.

Common Sense lost ground when parents attacked teachers for doing the job that they themselves had failed to do in disciplining their unruly children.

Common Sense declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer sun lotion or an Aspirin to a student; but could not inform parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion.

Common Sense lost the will to live as the churches became businesses; and criminals received better treatment than their victims.

Common Sense took a beating when you couldn't defend yourself from a burglar in your own home and the burglar could sue you for assault.

Common Sense finally gave up the will to live, after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot. She spilled a little in her lap, and was promptly awarded a huge settlement.

Common Sense was preceded in death, by his parents, Truth and Trust, his wife, Discretion, his daughter, Responsibility and his son, Reason. He is survived by his 4 stepbrothers:

I Know My Rights
I Want It Now
Someone Else Is To Blame
I'm A Victim

Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still remember him, pass this on. If not, join the majority and do nothing ."

灵山 Soul Mountain

在回港的航班上，读完了《灵山》的最后一行文字，转而望向窗外，阳光竟有些刺眼。在这样晴好的日子，从天上望去，香港竟惊人的美丽。在这里生活了五年多，未曾从内心接受过这个城市为家，也从未发现它可以如此之美。如一个永在途中的旅人，我仿佛一直在向着下一个栖息地前行，或是准备前行。

我想去哪里？我在寻觅什么? 在诺贝尔文学奖得主高行健的小说《灵山》中，主人公走在中国西南寻找一个传说中叫灵山的地方。书快结束的时候，他越过了一条河，觉得离目的地很近了，问路上的一位长者，长者却说：“灵山在河对岸，你越走越远了。”　主人公困惑地问：“我刚从对岸过来啊，如果我从对岸定方向呢?”“还是在河对岸。”长者答。最后，主人公并未到达灵山，而那对他或对我（作为一个读者）都不再重要了。

《灵山》并不是一个故事，而是“我”、“你”、“他”，有时也有“她”的一个旅程，有中国古代、现代的历史，民间传说，叙述者童年的回忆，和旅途中邂逅的种种人物。作者试图在一个极其广阔的文化背景中描述人存在中的一个两难困境：人从独处中获得绝对独立的冲动与从人群中找寻温暖的渴望之间的矛盾。而丰富生命的友情可以威胁个体的完整，无一例外的会在力量的挣扎角逐里告终。

这本书是当代文学的一部罕见作品。我相信它帮助我向生命的真谛又迈进了一步。

When I finished reading the last line of Soul Mountain on a flight back to Hong Kong, I turned my eyes to outside the window. The light almost hurt. On a fine day, Hong Kong looked astonishingly beautiful seen from above. After more than 5 years living here, I’ve never been able to take the city as a home of my heart, and I’ve never realized that it can be so beautiful. Like a wayfarer, I seem to be consistently on the move toward the next destination, or always prepared to.

Where do I want to go? What do I search for? In Soul Mountain, a novel written by Gao Xingjian, a winner of the Nobel prize for literature, the narrator travels through southern and south-western China to search for a legendary place called “Ling Shan (Soul Mountain)”. In the last part of the book, he crossed a river, felt very close to Ling Shan and asked an old man for its location. The old man said “it was on the other side of the river. You are moving farther and farther away.” The narrator got confused and asked: “I’ve already come to this side of the river. What if I use that side to get my bearings?” The old man replied “it’s still on the other side of the river”. In the end, the protagonist did not reach Soul Mountain, but for him and for me as a reader, it appears no longer important.

Soul Mountain is not one story, but a journey of “I”, “You” and “He” and sometimes a “She”, and a collection of ancient and modern Chinese histories, childhood reminiscences, folk tales, and all kinds of people and wanderers encountered on the way. Among many other things, the author tried to deal with “an existential dilemma: man's urge to find the absolute independence granted by solitude conflicts with a longing for the warmth and fellowship which can be given by "the other," be it he or she. At the same time, however, this enriching companionship threatens the individual's integrity and, without fail, ends in some kind of struggle for power.”

This book is a rare work in modern literature. I feel that its transforming power has brought me a step closer to the truth of life. Not an easy one to read, but I recommend it. If possible, read it in Chinese.

In Ho Chi Minh City Again

This week I am in Ho Chi Minh City again.

Never before in a hyper inflationary environment, I was struck by it right after landing. The taxi driver asked for 250,000 Dong to take me to the hotel. Four months ago, I paid 100,000 for the same. Hard feelings developed. The smile on the driver’s face looked tricky and wicked. I felt I was being ripped off by the inflation but more by people who decided to take advantage of it.

They put me in the same room that I stayed in last time, overlooking the Saigon River. It was a soothing view in the darkness. Local English newspaper reported domestic retailers facing the onslaught of international competitors as Vietnam fulfils its promised time-table to open up when entering WTO. A few years ago, this was exactly the language in the Chinese media. China was “feeling the stones to step upon to cross the river”. Its experience may have built a bridge for others who also want to make the cross.

When the sun rose and I merged into the hustle and bustle on the street again, Ho Chi Minh City again became young, friendly, and interesting. I was most amazed by the order people find under a very chaotic surface, especially when Nhung, my Vietnamese colleague, took me on the backseat of her motorbike through traffic from all directions. I thought I would be scared, but I was not, feeling safe and stable instead. It is obviously also a strength of a Chinese to find order in chaos.

At dinner table, without noticing it, I started some efforts to pick up Vietnamese words. The first word was “NGH N”, meaning “thousand”, because it was the smallest local note in my wallet.