原创翻译:QQ分分彩技巧 http://www.ltaaa.com 翻译:后羿A射日 转载请注明出处

Tuesday, September 24th: Chongqing.
Joyful reunx
Chongqing, our next stop, is a thousand miles away to the west in Sichuan Province. We take the overnight sleeper from Hangzhou. It’s a sixteen-hour ride (not a gaotie), leaving at 9 pm yesterday, reaching Chongqing at 1 pm today.
Sichuan is the fortress province, surrounded by mountains. In spells of imperial disintegration a warlord who could take Sichuan, like the horrible Zhang Xianzhong, was well situated.
The train ride makes the fortress feature perfectly plain. An extraordinary amount of time is spent going through tunnels. When you can see the landscape, it’s mountains covered with forest, dotted with small villages.


Wednesday, September 25th: Chongqing.
China’s ghost villages
We take our morning walk along an ancient riverside track, associated in some way I have forgotten with the great 3rd-century general Zhang Fei.
This takes us through a village named Taohuashan (Peach Blossom Mountain) which, from the look of it and its inhabitants, will soon be a ghost village, like those you see on YouTube clips of the Japanese countryside.
Then, some local places of interest.


Whitewashing the past
The one that most got my attention celebrated another 20th-century writer, Lao She, who lived in Beibei in the 1940s. His house is now a museum dedicated to his memory.
Lao She was so badly persecuted by Red Guards during the Cultural Revolution, he committed suicide. In all the hundreds of words, in both Chinese and English, accompanying the exhibits in Beibei’s Lao She museum, there is no mention of this fact.


Thursday, September 26th: Chongqing.
The click of the tiles
Taking an evening walk along any residential street in Hong Kong forty years ago, from every window around and above you came the click and chatter of mah-jong tiles. It was the musical accompaniment to life in Hong Kong.
I never heard that in mainland China in 1982-3. I’m not sure if there was a formal prohibition; but to judge by my ears, nobody was playing mah-jong.
Now it’s back. I see and hear people playing mah-jong all over. Beibei actually has a mah-jong parlor, all the tables occupied as we walked past.
People play for money, too, although only for small bills in the cases I have seen. I can’t imagine this is something the authorities approve. Hong Kong newspapers back in the day ran regular stories—like one a week—about some working stiff who’d got his weekly pay, headed for the mah-jong parlor instead of going home to his family, lost all his money at the tables, and thrown himself from an upper window. Si yi ge, shao yi ge.

Friday, September 27th: Chongqing to Zhuhai.
Last stop
Friday morning we fly from Chongqing to our last stop this trip, the fine new city of Zhuhai on China’s south coast next door to Hong Kong.
“Next door” isn’t quite right. Zhuhai and Hong Kong sit on opposite sides of the mouth of the Pearl River, which is about twenty miles wide here. Zhuhai’s at the western side of the mouth, Hong Kong the eastern. Just south of Zhuhai on the same side is the former Portuguese colony of Macau.
The whole area was much in the news last year when the Hong Kong-Zhuhai-Macao Bridge/Tunnel was opened, a 34-mile-long structure spanning the entire river mouth.
I’m naturally curious to see this creation, which has had so much publicity. The real fun of this part of our trip, though, is meeting up with some old friends.


The kultprop and the dissident
Our host here is David Wang. When I taught in Siping 1982-3, David was my kultprop, charged with giving me the Party-approved view on any issue I raised.
I never held that against him, and in fact liked the guy. David is smart and witty, and speaks excellent English. We had some minor differences at the time; but now, 36 years later, they don’t seem at all important, and we meet as old friends. He now lives and works in Zhuhai.
David still has the soul of a kultprop, though, and is keen for us to know how great life in China is now.
Also greeting us is Bruce Li. No, this is not the movie actor who died in 1973, although the Chinese names are homophonous. This is a classmate of David’s—they both graduated from Siping College in 1981—who was teaching high school in a nearby town when I was at the college, and used to drop by at my office to practice his English.
Bruce went to England in the mid-1980s, married an English girl—I drove them to their wedding—and acquired U.K. citizenship. He and his wife moved to Hong Kong, where she is head librarian at the Chinese University there. Bruce has come to Zhuhai to greet us.


This is where the fun comes in. Bruce is a dissident who hates the ChiComs. He supports the Hong Kong protestors. So with David playing kultprop in one ear while Bruce snaps back cynicisms in the other, I’m getting an interesting dialectic.
It’s all very good-natured, I should say. When you’ve known guys for 36 years, you’re not expecting any surprises. Nobody thinks anyone’s mind is going to be changed; nobody’s being dishonest; David’s booster talk and Bruce’s cynicism are both genuine. The three of us all like each other at a personal level, so the hell with politics.

There’ll be some more sightseeing around Zhuhai tomorrow; then on Sunday, back to the States via Canton and Taipei.
This evening we have our last banquet. The four of us—the Derbs, David, and Bruce—are joined by some other old Siping classmates. A surprising number have settled here in the far south. Hard to blame them; the climate is lovely.
The food is excellent; many toasts are drunk; many reminiscences exchanged. It’s all wonderfully gemütlich, the best banquet of the trip.
I have my differences with China. I’d dearly like to see the place under rational, constitutional government, though I don’t suppose I shall in what’s left of my lifetime.
China has, however, given me some of my most enduring friendships, a loyal and loving wife, and some useful life lessons.
Thanks, China, and thanks to those who hosted us and made this vacation so enjoyable.