Chapter 4 (2) "Revisiting Border Towns"

The temples here are the same as those in Taipei. There are no iron sticks on the tall candle holders for pilgrims to insert candles—that must have been in modern times.Taiwan is still an ancient style, and the lower section of the mountain frame has been replaced with new wood, which shows the ancient clumsiness of the dark black old white wooden sticks in the upper half.In some temples, a small rattan basket is placed on a wooden frame, presumably the basket can be filled with candles—there is not a single one, but judging from the position and height of the wooden frame, it cannot be a candlestick.It is still a legacy of the hard work of the original immigrants.

Another feature is that the statues of gods are all sitting outside the shrine, in front of the embroidered curtain.At first glance, it is a little uncomfortable, it is too exposed, and it seems to have lost a bit of mystery and solemnity.Presumably, the idols often go out on patrol, carrying them in and out, and the weather is so hot that those who sweat and work hard to carry them will be rubbed against each other, which will stain the silk curtains.I have seen a picture of a crowd of people outside the temple gate, a middle-aged man in a white sweater vest is holding a long-bearded god with a smile on his face, with a friendly expression on his face, as if he is not serious about it .The gods here seem to be closer to the human world. People need gods more than in their hometown. Not only did they leave their hometowns, but it was not too long ago to fight against the wilderness. Only religion is still permitted.The people here are all frontier residents in time and space, so it's a bit of a western style.I think of the fight next to the bus.

In the temples in Hualien's weathering area, the lotus-leaf worship mats are inlaid with colorful patch patterns, which are particularly feminine.There is a broken one, which is placed under a large tank.Eminent monks were also cremated in jars, but the jars here are probably used for everyday purposes.There is no wooden cover on the tank, and it may be the water tank before it was filled with tap water.The banner in front of the incense table is embossed with broken coral branches or beach stones as the background.Under the blue light of the fluorescent lamp, a layer of cellophane wrapped on the embroidered mantle shone brightly.Presumably because of the humid weather, the silk would rot.

There are no pilgrims at night, of course when they are busy.Loud jazz music was played outside the hall, making it even more deserted.A group of Zhu Gao sat on a small platform under the corridor, half lying on the wicker chairs, drinking tea and chatting with their feet up.There are gongs, drums and musical instruments piled up on the side of the hall, and the word "super class" is written on one big drum. A simple three-story wooden house on a nearby street looked like it was newly built. It was a single family standing in a small open space, with a signboard of "Class A Prostitute Household" hanging on the door.The lights in the window are bright and rock music is playing.There are two wooden chairs standing upright by the bridge, and nothing else.Two young women were wearing short cheongsams, with long hair draped over their backs. They seemed to be tall, tall and chested, with big eyes, meeting international standards. They were dancing rock and roll with a man.The man was almost middle-aged, fat, with small eyes, a bit of a pig face, an arched nose, and a very ordinary face. He was wearing a beige zipper jacket, and he was easy-going, at best he could keep up.But this place is obviously not a dance school, maybe they themselves have nothing to do to advertise.

Second-class brothels are not so pure.The public canteen, Daguanyuan, has a bathhouse attached to it. I think it is a massage parlor, but I heard it is a second-class brothel.In the first row of windows downstairs, there was a rattan lounge chair covered with a towel quilt, and a figure in a long red brocade cheongsam flashed through the door leading to the inner room.How to get a massage with such neat clothes?It seems to be different from the nature of killing chickens in big cities. In another window, there was a man lying naked on a rattan chair, covered only by a large towel.In another window, a man was hunched over and cutting his toenails.It is obviously not like pedicures in bathhouses on the mainland.Since I take care of myself, I don’t want to save some money to cut my toenails at home, but I’m busy cutting my toenails at this spring night when it’s worth a thousand dollars.Although the nails are softer and easier to cut after just taking a bath, it is also a small feat that kills the scenery.

I don't know if this row of windows is divided into a small room. The lower half of the wall is painted dark green, and the upper half is cream. There is an old-fashioned wall clock on the wall.The door downstairs is wide open, and there are many bicycles parked in front of the door, crookedly leaning against each other and stacked on top of each other.A row of dark brown counters inside the gate, like a hotel or hospital registration desk.The walls were painted the same dull green that the Anglo-Americans called "hospital green." Probably because the hot climate requires ventilation, as if there is no such thing as curtains, all exhibitions are open.The iron gate of the small movie theater was only half closed, and when one looked in, one could see the screen and the light green stage curtains on both sides.

Photos of prostitutes hang high and low at the entrance of the photo studio in Fenghua District. Some of them, like movie stars Zhang Zhongwen, have long hair covering half of their faces, and some, like Liu Qi, are all wearing night gowns with low necklines.There are also two superimposed photos of the same person, the popular "pictures of me" in the late Qing Dynasty and early Republic of China. After the night tour, go to see the ancient house the next day.The oldest mansion in the area is a two-story red brick house with flying eaves on the main building, and the gable wall is inlaid with lake green pottery and flower wall decorations, surrounded by small light blue pottery clouds.The two wings are bungalows.The yard is huge, and the bamboo fence may have been added later.Standing far away from the courtyard gate is a small archway with cornices and a pair of red brick square columns below.

Taiwan seems to have always been red brick, probably because of the local soil quality.The mainland used to be made of blue bricks, but it is actually dark gray, maybe with blue ash.Because the Chinese love cyan—"green is better than blue"—they are called green bricks.Red bricks seem to be foreign, the most common in Britain and Germany, and the characteristic of Teutonic national architecture.In Taiwan, red bricks are paired with traditional Chinese cornices and green magnetic wall decorations, and there is a soft and simple charm in the disharmony. There is a temple in the Jiaqing period, the last wing was closed, and a wooden sign was hung on a door, which said "Office".There is a small scroll-shaped window on the side wall, and a lake-green pottery and digging flower wall decoration is embedded in each wing as a window lattice. The central one must have been smashed, and it has been replaced by three small log sticks. It has been a long time. The feeling is original, but the whole composition is more sincere.

In another old house, the ordinary windows also use this octagonal green magnetic digging wall decoration as window lattices, six of which are stacked in two rows.After adding the same color wooden fence for protection, the faded light blue wooden fence is still gentle and lovely, not incongruous. In the alley, women picking tea were sitting around on the platform in front of the door with their children on their backs. Everyone was holding a big flat basket, shaking it constantly.The black tea leaves in the basket must be oolong, and the fragrance of the tea is particularly strong ten steps away.Another platform is full of old tires.India also often has this kind of platform at the gate.

A young friend took me to a pond where a small palm shed stood in the middle of the water.There are occasional reflections of two clumps of long grass in the clear water.Is it a farm or a fishery?It seemed like my guide was always taciturn and I somehow never asked. There was a long-haired girl standing in the bright blue water and leaning over to operate. An orange-yellow, orange-green dress was rolled up to her thighs; her appearance and figure were the same as those of the two class-A prostitutes, but she was slim and clear.Except in the movies, how can there be such a character dressed like this for manual labor?If I were a VIP to visit, I would suspect that it was "Potemkin's Village" ── Potemkin, the favorite of Russian Empress Catherine II, planted elegant farmhouses all over the empress's journey, only the front A false wall, and recruited village girls wearing local traditional costumes to sing and dance, a scene of peace and prosperity.

This beauty must be used to attracting attention, so she ignored us staring at her from a distance, and after a while, she waded into the shed.Only then did I groan faintly, amazed with a smile.The young man smiled smugly. There are probably many beauties here.For one thing, the early immigrants were originally beauties from the southern countries, and there were Gaoshan people who married wives from the mountains. At least the Ami people in Hualien were more beautiful than the famous Balinese people who produced beauties. We walked along the edge of the pool to a palm gazebo to rest and eat pomelo.I have never eaten such a sweet and sour grapefruit. Perhaps because of the proximity of the place of production, the Hunan grapefruit eaten in Shanghai has already dried up.I looked at the streaks of sunlight in the shadow of the underground railing.The scene on the color wide screen just now is still in front of me, and it is suspicious and unreal. In contrast, the taste of grapefruit in the mouth is so real that it makes people a little surprised. As a border town, Hong Kong is not separated by water like Taiwan. Not only is it bordering the border, but also there is an endless stream of people returning home to visit relatives and visit graves, so they can naturally see the mainland more clearly.The apartment I rented out this time has a large roof terrace, which is empty at night, so I go up and walk around when I feel bored, and the place is so big that I walk around in circles.The neon lights all over the city mixed into a dim red night, and there seemed to be mountains beyond the horizon, and the mainland lay there horizontally, and its breathing could be heard. The second landlord's wife is from Shanghai, and she is always embarrassed to explain why they want to sublet: "We are all sending parcels to the poor!" They sent her mother-in-law's family noodles, fried rice and bacon, dried meat, dried bamboo shoots, sugar, soy sauce, raw oil and soap every month, and clothes by season.There was a British-made instant chicken soup with cubes, and her mother-in-law wrote ecstatically that it "solved all the problems of our two meals a day." Granulated sugar they washed with hot water and ate it as a tonic.Her younger brother was in a labor camp, harboring a national suspect; writing to ask for pills for his kidney disease and swollen legs.Her sister is a doctor, sent to work in the countryside. "She has a doctor's appointment at night, and the country is dark and rough, and she's afraid of snakes—isn't that what girls are like." She sounded apologetic, as if her two daughters occupied the bathroom for too long, "Girls That's not it." I was just in time to see them pack a big one.The landlady has a relative who wants to go back. An old lady in her seventies can bring things for them.Her husband was catching a calf like a cowboy, tying a hemp rope to a heavy object, rolling all over the floor.The landlady baked a cake and stewed a pot of braised pork. "They can use pots too," she said. "How did you bring a pot of braised pork to Shanghai?" I said. "It's frozen. The train is like a refrigerator." She got up at dawn to see her off, and also helped carry her luggage through the Luohu border inspection.The next day when she saw me, she yelled, "Ha! Miss Zhang, I almost can't come back!" "Hey, what's the matter?" "Shocking! Let's not go first, there are too many things." She lowered her voice and used the tone of complicity. "This is also the old lady. She has too many things of her own. A whole barrel of kerosene, a whole box of canned food, a box of pressed salted fish, clothes, blankets, pots and kettles, everything is enough to pay for it. The people at the checkpoint became impatient. Later, it was found that she had some small change in her wallet, the Renminbi, which she brought back from the previous trip, and she forgot that the Renminbi was not allowed to be brought out. Huh! This is serious. "Where did this come from? Huh?" Well, "What do you mean? Huh?" I came to me: "Who are you? Huh? What is your relationship with her, huh?" What are you doing here, huh?"" The landlady turned her face into a childish face, raised her eyes, and yelled out those "ah" and "ha". "Oh, I said I don't know anything. I'm here to see you off—I've been so anxious to death." She frowned, tutted, and then lowered her voice, whispering: "This old lady has something Dozens of nylon socks were sewn into her cotton gown." "Take it to sell?" "No, to give presents. Women wear long hakama." "──I can't even see it!" "Not long." She gestured to her calf. "Give it to the wives of officials. She always likes to send it to everyone. She is so capable, old lady. She imports movies made in Hong Kong. For high-ranking officials. What do you want so much money for? Huh? Seventy years old, no one Children, huh?" She smiled. At this time, it was the great famine and fleeing after the Great Leap Forward. In May, 60,000 people rushed across the border of Hong Kong.Most of them are villagers from nearby areas.It has always been the farmers who suffer the most, and they are still the farmers who suffer the most.When I left the country from Luohu ten years ago, I saw countrymen carrying loads and selling vegetables freely in and out, and I envied them.A group of people from our train crossed the Lo Wu Bridge and handed over their documents to the Hong Kong police on the other side of the barbed wire.I took it and sent it to a hut for research, but there was no news about it.It was a hot day, and we stood in the sun and waited.This Hong Kong policeman is a slender handsome guy from Guangdong. He wears new sunglasses, which look too big to a country bumpkin from the mainland. He looked cool and arrogant, pacing up and down with his hands behind his back.The Chinese Communist soldier standing guard was right next to us, a northern boy with puffy cheeks, wearing a wrinkled uniform that was too big.After they stood in the scorching sun for an hour, the soldier grunted angrily and spoke for the first time: "I told you to wait outside, it's so hot! Go and stand there." He pointed with his chin. There is a small shady spot a stone's throw behind. We didn't look at him, only smiled a little, and pushed closer to the wire fence, as if we were afraid to leave one of us behind.But there is still such a moment, I feel the warmth of the race washes up like a tide, rushing over me for the last time. When I was a student in Hong Kong, since I returned to Shanghai after the Hong Kong War, I abandoned school for ten years, and I went back that year, but the trees on the hill behind the campus have grown taller, and a brick path in the middle leads to the old Mid-Levels In the female dormitory, the ratio is different, and it is also a bit "familiar and unfamiliar".I didn't even look at it, the weight of time made me unable to lift my head, I just felt that those tall small fir trees still looked a little lonely, and each of them was a dark green fountain in a dark green pool. The white sky shot up, rushing up, and at that moment, I was thrown far away, shrunk and very clear, and the person in the telescope looking upside down was standing far below the ground.Before the picture was formed, I turned around and walked away. Less than ten years after the farewell this time, Hong Kong is being demolished and constructed everywhere, and the mailbox is half buried in the soil and still accepts mail as usual.They are all white buildings, no different from any emerging cities in Africa, Middle East and Oceania.Occasionally, there are ingenious ones, the drawer-style balcony is light orange and beige, and the colors are so timid that it makes people feel that the architect and the painter are really two different races. Presumably, the mountain is full of white tall buildings, and the azaleas in the middle of the mountain have already been cut down.I never asked.In fact, the original two-story turmeric old house among the flowers, the lacquered wooden pillars and railings on the balcony in front of the door, hidden in the sea of ​​bright red flowers, is a bit glaringly miserable, but with the background of blue sea and blue sky, there is another kind of The desolate charm, so as not to look like a gaudy picture postcard. Of course, this kind of old house needs to be demolished. The endless stream of refugees over the years is about to overwhelm this small island. How can we not make room for building houses for people to live in?I know it's unreasonable, but it's just because I like this city so much. It has the compactness of the West Lake landscape and the cleanliness of Qingdao, and it is the closest Chinatown to the mainland.Some fragments of ancient China have been preserved, but they are close without distortion, unlike overseas Chinatowns. This time, I live in Kowloon, and it is rare to cross the sea. I am afraid to see the new ferry terminal. The smooth and half-old bay red horizontal strip floor has been demolished and replaced with a concrete floor.Originally, there was a promenade stretching out into the sea, and there was only a glass-boxed advertisement picture on both sides far away, introducing cigarettes or upcoming movies in a deserted manner.Such precious advertising space is not fully utilized, and it has the style of a throwing line of comedians──the more witty the more "throwing for nothing", muttered inadvertently, it is almost inaudible.I really appreciate that leisure. In contrast, the newly built larger concrete buildings are horribly crude.I always went straight to the shop when I really had to cross the sea, without looking away.In this way, naturally there is very little knowledge. But it seems that the southward provincials have been assimilated.The kids speak Cantonese at school and refuse to speak any other dialect at home, which happens to be an excuse that teens elsewhere might envy them. At Christmas they exchanged Christmas cards with their classmates face to face.Even non-religious people in the society celebrate, give gifts, and treat guests. A newspaper column written by Thirteen Sisters had a letter from a reader saying, "I am nineteen years old." Her father took her to escape from North China a year ago. The CCP shot her, and her father covered her with his body. He was seriously injured and died in a hospital in Macau.When she arrived in Hong Kong, a friend of her father found a small job for her, about one hundred Hong Kong dollars a month, which was only enough to rent a bed and barely survived. "I am the only one in Hong Kong who celebrates Christmas," she wrote. "Please tell me if I should go back to the mainland." I don't remember how Thirteenth Sister answered, but she must have tried to persuade her.My reaction is that the sparks in the comics explode, adding a lot of "!" and "#", no matter what "#" represents here, of course it is not worth making such a fuss. It is unimaginable outside.Even my parents dare not say a lot at home, for fear of being reported by their children.As soon as I arrived in the world of flowers in Hong Kong, a nineteen-year-old girl is exactly the age of beauty, and the desire to decorate herself must be so strong.The capital is covered with crowns, and the man is alone and haggard. It is really better to go back to the place where "everyone has nothing" and suffer less pain.But all the way out, there is no food stamp road, and it is impossible to go so far without the help of relatives and friends.Wouldn't it harm these benefactors if we went back to investigate? I think this is a very good story, tense, tragic, with an ironic ending to human nature.Unfortunately I can't write.