在中國最美好的回憶

馬提歐·普利比安卡

我在中國的時候，一些最美好的回憶是有關老年人的。在中國，不僅僅是年輕人，老年人更是充滿活力，對人十分友好。只要在晚上6點左右去散步，或者在夏天晚上8點以后，你就會看到他們在充滿激情地跳舞。我喜歡他們的態度，他們不在乎自己會不會跳舞，他們享受生活。當然，即使在一個外國人的眼里，也能理解年輕人和老年人之間的關系，和他們父母之間的關系，一點也不簡單。

這里的年輕人非常不同。在幾年的時間里，這個國家的技術突飛猛進，年輕人在襁褓里就擁有了他們的父母以及祖父母花了幾十年才擁有的東西。另一方面，年輕人似乎還是缺乏一些老年人所擁有的一樣東西：歡樂。老年人們能夠成對成團地聚在一起，即使是他們不做任何事情或僅僅是在爭論的時候。親愛的讀者們，我的學生們就不會這么三五成群地聚在一起，或者說好像不知道如何去這么做一樣。現在的年輕人都是人手一部智能手機，有的人甚至有兩部或者更多。他們幾乎總是“粘在”自己的手機上。反觀那些老年人，以前沒有使用過智能手機，即使他們現在有了，也不會把所有的時間都花在這方面。當然，我并不是在評判，沒有誰哪方面都好，也沒有哪種做法一定就比另一種好。我只是好奇地觀察著我周圍所發生的一切。

有一次在杭州，我去拜訪一個美國朋友。到達學院路時，我聽到一種吵鬧的音樂。有些女士正隨著電子音樂認真地跳舞。她們的舞跳得還不錯，像《天鵝舞》中的“天鵝”一樣優雅地移動著。我停下來觀察，奇怪怎么就不明白那些狂野的迪斯科音符不適合她們優美的動作。對她們來說可能做一些體育活動，找點樂子是健康的。但如果一個外國人想要欣賞中國老年人的社交能力，必須去公園逛逛，尤其是西湖西側的那些幾乎被樹葉遮住的小廣場。有很多老年人會跳舞、唱歌，通過這些歡快的方式度過他們生命的最后一部分中最美好的時光。還有一個假裝吹薩克斯管，沒別的原因，就因為他喜歡這樣做。除了跳舞的人，也有演奏和唱歌的人。從拉丁音樂到他們的中國音樂，最好的“歡聚時間”是星期天的時候。他們組成一支由管樂器、銅管樂器和男高音的管弦樂隊，他們唱革命歌曲。我不明白他們在唱些什么，但我想象著他們年輕時自豪地奔赴前線的樣子，努力做到保護國家不受外國侵略者——尤其是日本的侵犯。

在我住的那條小街上有兩位非常善良的老人，讓我記憶深刻。第一個在街道的入口處。我不知道他有多大，因為對我們這些外國人來說，很難猜得出一位東亞人的年齡，我猜對東亞人來說，猜測歐美人的年齡也一樣困難。他每天就在街邊的一個遮陽傘下面擺著一個擦鞋的攤子，沒活兒的時候一直在那兒抽煙。現在有多少人對擦鞋感興趣，我不知道。但他一點不在乎。從早上7點到下午5點，你總是可以在那里找到他。有人去找他聊天的時候，他的攤子看起來更像一個露天酒吧。另一個是我十分信賴的蔬菜水果店老板。店主看起來比鞋匠還老。冬天，他戴著一頂老式的帽子，微笑著，嘴里幾乎沒有牙齒。他是個冷靜的人，充滿活力。他和他的家人，包括妻子、女兒、女婿和侄子，一起經營著這個幾乎擁有一切的小店。與意大利相比，中國的商店也有些不一樣。在意大利，人們更喜歡把一切按照一個標準擺放得整整齊齊，水果也要按照一定的標準洗好。但是我更喜歡中國式的小店。我很樂意去蔬菜水果店里買東西。沒幾次，店主就認識我了，總是給我打折。他總是給我一些小蔥，但我完全不會做飯，拒絕又顯得不太禮貌，所以我也總是接受之后又給了別人。付款的時候店主總是把零頭給抹掉不讓我付。他不在乎，他也不想浪費時間。有一次，我試著跟他交談，也怕他聽不懂我說的話，但沒想到他很樂意聽到我能說一點普通話。他告訴我還有另外兩個外國人也常光顧他的小店，但是還沒有說過話。他問我從哪里來，我回答說“意大利”。他看著旁邊的一個朋友說：“看到了嗎？意大利人懂普通話，不像有時經過這里的美國人。”我高興地笑了，因為看到我比那兩個美國人“更強”。

我與中國老人們最有趣的一次會面發生在杭州歐美中心的一家星巴克外，那里有許多外國公司和國際組織。

那天我正坐在一條長凳上，這時一位老先生走了過來，大聲說到：“你好。”我回答了一聲“你好”，然后又繼續拿起手機。他繼續說道：“你好嗎？”“我很好，你呢？”就這樣，我們的談話開始了。他不停地問我問題。他的英語不是很好，但考慮到他的年齡（他可能80歲左右），這是令人欽佩的，因為他努力了，而且他的英語我聽得懂。突然，他的語言變了：德語、俄語、意大利語、法語、西班牙語、葡萄牙語……每一種語言他都說了一兩句。除了德語，其他的我都能或多或少地理解。每當他問我問題時，他都要向我確認我是否理解。當我作出肯定回答的時候，他很高興，然后開始使用另一種語言。我用手機記錄下了一切，因為我想用它來激勵我的學生。我們的談話持續了三十多分鐘。這不是一次深入的交談，但我們確實對彼此有了一些了解。最后，當我問他是怎么學得這些語言時，還以為他是一個退休的大學教授。結果他回答說：“開了30年的出租車。”“可是如何做到的呢？”“每次有外國人上我的車，我都會友好地用他的母語問他一句話。大多數時候他們不懂普通話。我用我在學校和朋友那里學的一點點英語或俄語，翻譯成其他語言然后錄下來。回到家后，我會不停地聽著錄音，有時候睡著了也會繼續聽。經過多年的重復，我記住了很多外語的一些基本對話和簡單短語。現在我已經退休了，所以我有更多的時間來復習，住在這個地區，我每天下午都在這里尋找像你這樣的外國人來練習。抱歉給你添麻煩了。”多么有趣的故事，多么有趣的人！

My Best Memories in China

By ?Matteo Preabianca

My best memory in China is about elder people. If young people in Europe are the ones who make the most noise and create problems， in China it is exactly the opposite. Not only the young people， the people that are of vitality and that friendly are the elderly. Just walk in the evening， around 6pm or， in the summer after 8pm， they all find themselves dancing like crazy. I like their attitude： they don’t care if they can’t dance. They enjoy life. Of course， even in the eyes of a foreigner， you can understand how the relationships between young and old， with a middle generation， that of their parents， are not at all simple. They are very different. In a few years this country has made technological leaps forward and what their parents， but especially their grandparents， did not have what young people already have in their cradles. Nevertheless， their old people have something young people lack， totally or partially： conviviality. They are able to make a group， to be always in company， even when they are not doing anything or just arguing with each other. My students， dear readers， do not have it or simply do not know how to do it. I see them around， with turtle necks poured into mobile phones， everywhere. The elderly， not having had it， even if they have it now， do not spend all their time using it. I’m not judging： no one is better than no one else. I just observe， intrigued.

One evening， I went out to see an American friend of mine. Arriving at Xueyuan Road， I heard a terrible and loud music. There were elderly ladies who were dancing seriously to horrible techno music. Their dance was not bad at all. They were moving gracefully like a Swan Ball choreography. I stopped to watch them and wondered how they didn’t understand that those wild disco notes were not suitable for their sweet movements. I think it’s healthy for them to do some physical activity， having fun. In the end， it’s enough to be in company.

But if a foreigner wants to admire the sociality of Chinese elders， he or she needs to go to the parks， those little squares on the west side of the West Lake， almost hidden by the leaves of the trees. There are a lot of old people who spend the best moments of the last part of their lives dancing and singing. There is also one who pretends to play the saxophone， because he likes. That’s it. Besides the usual people who dance， from Latin music to the Chinese music of their youth， there are also people who play and sing. The best are those on Sundays. They have created a sort of orchestra with winds， brass and tenors. They sing revolutionary songs. I don’t quite understand the meaning of the lyrics， but I imagine them as young people when they went proudly to the front， to protect the country from foreign invaders， especially Japanese.

In my little street where I stayed， there were two very nice old people. The first one was at the entrance of the street. I didn’t （and still don’t） know how old he was because for foreigners it is difficult to pinpoint the age of an Asian from the Far East， and vice versa. He was there all day under an umbrella leaning on the sidewalk， polishing his shoes and smoking a cigarette. Now how many people are interested in having their shoes shined these days， I don’t know. But he didn’t care. From 7 o’clock in the morning to 5 o’clock in the afternoon， you could find him there. Someone went to him to chat. Sometimes it looked more like an open-air bar. The other one was my trusted greengrocer. He looked older than the shoemaker. In winter he wore a Soviet hat and smiled with few teeth in his mouth. He was a calm guy and full of life. Together with his family， consisting of his wife， daughter， son-in-law and nephew， he managed a small fruit & vegetable store in which he had everything.

Even shops are different in China， compared to Italy. We have everything in order， the fruit is washed and arranged with a certain criterion. Not in these kinds of Chinese shops， which I prefer. In fact， I went there with pleasure to do shopping. By now the old man knew me and always gave me a discount. He kept giving me some chives although I knew absolutely nothing about cooking， but it seems rude for me to say no， so I took and then gave them to others. Always using cash， I tried to give him the correct sum， but he would wave me off， not taking the coins. He didn’t care， and he didn’t want to waste time. After a few times， I tried to talk to him， afraid he didn’t understand me， but what a surprise！ He was very happy that I could speak a bit Mandarin. He told me there were two other Waiguoren （foreigners） who came to his place， but never say a word. He asked me where I came from. ?“Italy，” I answered him. He looked at a friend of his close by and said， “See？ Italians know Mandarin， unlike that American who sometimes passes through here”. I laughed， satisfied that I was thought to be “better” than that American.

The best meeting with an elderly person took place outside a Starbucks of Hangzhou’s Euro American Center， where many foreign companies and international organizations are based.

I was sitting on a bench， when an old gentleman approached and exclaimed “Hello.” I answered “Hello” and returned to my phone. He continued， “Hello， how are you？” “I am fine， you？” Because of that， the conversation didn’t stop. He kept asking me questions. His English wasn’t excellent but， given his age （he could be around 80）， it was admirable because he made an effort and could be understood. Suddenly， he changed his language and spoke to me in German， Russian， Italian， French， Spanish， Portuguese. With the exception of the first one， I could more or less understand all the others. Whenever he asked me a question， he would like me to reassure him about my understanding. When I answered affirmatively， he was happy and started to use another language. I recorded everything with my mobile phone because I wanted to use it to spur my students on. Our conversation continued for more than thirty minutes. It’s not a deep conversation， but we did get to know each other a little. In the end， when I asked him how he knew all those languages， believing he was a retired university professor， he replied “driving the taxi for thirty years” “And how？” “Every time a foreigner got on board， I would be nice and ask him for a sentence in his own language. Most of the time they didn’t understand Mandarin. I used the little bit of English or Russian I learned in schools and with friends， to translate in sentences in other languages to myself. And I recorded them. Then I would go home and fall asleep， listening to them. After years of repetition， I memorized key phrases for a basic conversation. Now I’m retired so I have even more time to review them and， living in the area， I spend every afternoon here looking for Waiguoren like you to practice. Sorry for the trouble”. Such a fascinating story and such an interesting man.