Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Shanghai impression

十几年前第一次来上海,便爱上了这里,因为她的繁华,因为她的精致。那时还没有浦东,也没有磁悬浮,东方明珠刚刚建起。

再一次来到这里,早已没有了当年的震撼。小时候走过的地方,居然没有留下印象。外滩的游人依旧熙熙攘攘,只是东方明珠在灰蒙蒙的天空下有些黯然失色。很幸运见到了即将被拆掉的外白渡桥,但遗憾的是已经不能在桥上走一走。

其实一直喜欢上海多过北京。这里少了几分政治气氛,多了几分浪漫和暧昧。雨后夜晚的滨江大道美得让人陶醉,没有了白天的喧哗,仿佛时间停滞。如果黄浦江增添了这座城市的灵气,那么老洋房则赋予了她沧桑感。东方古典和西方现代完美地结合,就连新天地的Starbucks都显得别具一格。相比之下,北京就像一座围城,一些不伦不类的地标性建筑孤零零地矗立其中,却并不协调。

如果不是因为上海漫长的夏季,也许不会选择北京。只有北京冬天那彻骨的冷,才能让我清醒。当夜晚回北京的飞机在空中盘旋的时候,突然发现这个我生活了将近八年的城市,夜景也很美。

人在一个地方呆得太久,会变得麻木。旅行也只不过是暂时的逃避,行走之后,终究还是要回到现实的。

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

Saving fish from drowning

God must be furious to turn the sky into the eerie color of beige. All the windows were shut and the whole building was like a gas chamber. Soon I’ll be on my getaway.

Just finished Amy Tan’s saving fish from drowning. A story so touching and mesmerizing it changed my perception on fictions. I thought I didn’t like novels, but I underestimated myself. I just didn’t find my niche. Novels in fact can be as real as memoirs.

It’s a nice surprise to find an author that I identify with and know a character that I have empathy for. Reading the last chapter of a favorite book feels like bidding farewell to a long-known friend. All good things come to an end.

An excerpt:
…It was a year after I started university life, and I had returned home at Sweet Ma's command to join the family celebration of the Autumn Festival, what is traditionally a time of thanksgiving. Now here we were, my father and brothers and I, at the usual gathering of distant relatives and Chinese friends, both longtime citizens and the recently immigrated. We were in the backyard of a second cousin's house in Menlo Park, about to view the full moon rise. We carried paper lanterns with sputtering candles, and walked toward the swimming pool. And in that pool, I saw the moon appear and shimmer, a golden melon and not just a flat disc, as it had always appeared to me before. I heard people moan with happiness. I saw their mouths pop open, the rims of their eyes drip with tears.

My mouth was closed, my eyes were dry. I could see the moon as clearly as they, and I could even appreciate its special glories. But why didn't I flood in the same way? Why was their happiness tenfold what I felt? Did I lack the proper connection between the senses and the heart?

And then I realized that this was my habit. To hold back my feelings. To keep my knees from buckling. And with that knowledge, I was ready to feel whatever I wanted, as fully as I wanted. I gazed at the moon and willed myself to feel all the emotions. I waited for joy and awe to wash over me. I was determined, I was ready, I was anticipating, expecting, hoping . . . but nothing happened. My legs stood strong and straight.

Sunday, March 2, 2008

Vision Beijing

Not a day goes by but I hear or see the ^O^ word. If the Games were a religion, I might have already been converted to Olympicism.

The other night I watched a program called Vision Beijing. 5 famous directors, 5 short films, yet none impressed me.

Under the lens of the Iranian director, the school kids are smiling radiantly, but don’t they have loads of homework to do?

In Lau’s film, the foods look enticing and the variety is eye-opening. But I suppose for the ordinary people, many of those elaborate dishes are extravagances.

It’s good the directors have captured these beautiful moments, but some faces shouldn’t be neglected. They are migrant workers jostling in the buses at 6am, compound security guards stamping their feet to keep out the cold, delivery boys cycling in the snow, listless subway commuters rushing to work… Without them, Beijing wouldn’t be what it is today.

Maybe I’ve outgrown the city, or the country. Sometimes feel suffocated in the smog, under the roaring flyover, at the swarming crossing, in the crowded supermarket, in the office without a view…