在中国最美好的回忆

马提欧·普利比安卡

我在中国的时候，一些最美好的回忆是有关老年人的。在中国，不仅仅是年轻人，老年人更是充满活力，对人十分友好。只要在晚上6点左右去散步，或者在夏天晚上8点以后，你就会看到他们在充满激情地跳舞。我喜欢他们的态度，他们不在乎自己会不会跳舞，他们享受生活。当然，即使在一个外国人的眼里，也能理解年轻人和老年人之间的关系，和他们父母之间的关系，一点也不简单。

这里的年轻人非常不同。在几年的时间里，这个国家的技术突飞猛进，年轻人在襁褓里就拥有了他们的父母以及祖父母花了几十年才拥有的东西。另一方面，年轻人似乎还是缺乏一些老年人所拥有的一样东西：欢乐。老年人们能够成对成团地聚在一起，即使是他们不做任何事情或僅仅是在争论的时候。亲爱的读者们，我的学生们就不会这么三五成群地聚在一起，或者说好像不知道如何去这么做一样。现在的年轻人都是人手一部智能手机，有的人甚至有两部或者更多。他们几乎总是“粘在”自己的手机上。反观那些老年人，以前没有使用过智能手机，即使他们现在有了，也不会把所有的时间都花在这方面。当然，我并不是在评判，没有谁哪方面都好，也没有哪种做法一定就比另一种好。我只是好奇地观察着我周围所发生的一切。

有一次在杭州，我去拜访一个美国朋友。到达学院路时，我听到一种吵闹的音乐。有些女士正随着电子音乐认真地跳舞。她们的舞跳得还不错，像《天鹅舞》中的“天鹅”一样优雅地移动着。我停下来观察，奇怪怎么就不明白那些狂野的迪斯科音符不适合她们优美的动作。对她们来说可能做一些体育活动，找点乐子是健康的。但如果一个外国人想要欣赏中国老年人的社交能力，必须去公园逛逛，尤其是西湖西侧的那些几乎被树叶遮住的小广场。有很多老年人会跳舞、唱歌，通过这些欢快的方式度过他们生命的最后一部分中最美好的时光。还有一个假装吹萨克斯管，没别的原因，就因为他喜欢这样做。除了跳舞的人，也有演奏和唱歌的人。从拉丁音乐到他们的中国音乐，最好的“欢聚时间”是星期天的时候。他们组成一支由管乐器、铜管乐器和男高音的管弦乐队，他们唱革命歌曲。我不明白他们在唱些什么，但我想象着他们年轻时自豪地奔赴前线的样子，努力做到保护国家不受外国侵略者——尤其是日本的侵犯。

在我住的那条小街上有两位非常善良的老人，让我记忆深刻。第一个在街道的入口处。我不知道他有多大，因为对我们这些外国人来说，很难猜得出一位东亚人的年龄，我猜对东亚人来说，猜测欧美人的年龄也一样困难。他每天就在街边的一个遮阳伞下面摆着一个擦鞋的摊子，没活儿的时候一直在那儿抽烟。现在有多少人对擦鞋感兴趣，我不知道。但他一点不在乎。从早上7点到下午5点，你总是可以在那里找到他。有人去找他聊天的时候，他的摊子看起来更像一个露天酒吧。另一个是我十分信赖的蔬菜水果店老板。店主看起来比鞋匠还老。冬天，他戴着一顶老式的帽子，微笑着，嘴里几乎没有牙齿。他是个冷静的人，充满活力。他和他的家人，包括妻子、女儿、女婿和侄子，一起经营着这个几乎拥有一切的小店。与意大利相比，中国的商店也有些不一样。在意大利，人们更喜欢把一切按照一个标准摆放得整整齐齐，水果也要按照一定的标准洗好。但是我更喜欢中国式的小店。我很乐意去蔬菜水果店里买东西。没几次，店主就认识我了，总是给我打折。他总是给我一些小葱，但我完全不会做饭，拒绝又显得不太礼貌，所以我也总是接受之后又给了别人。付款的时候店主总是把零头给抹掉不让我付。他不在乎，他也不想浪费时间。有一次，我试着跟他交谈，也怕他听不懂我说的话，但没想到他很乐意听到我能说一点普通话。他告诉我还有另外两个外国人也常光顾他的小店，但是还没有说过话。他问我从哪里来，我回答说“意大利”。他看着旁边的一个朋友说：“看到了吗？意大利人懂普通话，不像有时经过这里的美国人。”我高兴地笑了，因为看到我比那两个美国人“更强”。

我与中国老人们最有趣的一次会面发生在杭州欧美中心的一家星巴克外，那里有许多外国公司和国际组织。

那天我正坐在一条长凳上，这时一位老先生走了过来，大声说到：“你好。”我回答了一声“你好”，然后又继续拿起手机。他继续说道：“你好吗？”“我很好，你呢？”就这样，我们的谈话开始了。他不停地问我问题。他的英语不是很好，但考虑到他的年龄（他可能80岁左右），这是令人钦佩的，因为他努力了，而且他的英语我听得懂。突然，他的语言变了：德语、俄语、意大利语、法语、西班牙语、葡萄牙语……每一种语言他都说了一两句。除了德语，其他的我都能或多或少地理解。每当他问我问题时，他都要向我确认我是否理解。当我作出肯定回答的时候，他很高兴，然后开始使用另一种语言。我用手机记录下了一切，因为我想用它来激励我的学生。我们的谈话持续了三十多分钟。这不是一次深入的交谈，但我们确实对彼此有了一些了解。最后，当我问他是怎么学得这些语言时，还以为他是一个退休的大学教授。结果他回答说：“开了30年的出租车。”“可是如何做到的呢？”“每次有外国人上我的车，我都会友好地用他的母语问他一句话。大多数时候他们不懂普通话。我用我在学校和朋友那里学的一点点英语或俄语，翻译成其他语言然后录下来。回到家后，我会不停地听着录音，有时候睡着了也会继续听。经过多年的重复，我记住了很多外语的一些基本对话和简单短语。现在我已经退休了，所以我有更多的时间来复习，住在这个地区，我每天下午都在这里寻找像你这样的外国人来练习。抱歉给你添麻烦了。”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.