Valparaiso 是個離 Santiago 約 2 小時車程的海邊城市,抵達前想像中的它就是藍藍的海洋、鹹鹹的海風、髒髒的街道、陽光普照的海灘、成群結隊的狗、魚腥味漂浮的城市.... 記得在秘魯爬印加古道時,同團的一位法國夥伴說過 ¨Valparaiso is a not very clean city and there are many dogs (actually, we saw more cats and birds), but it is very typical, I like it indeed.
剛好,我們就是喜歡原味與髒亂,太美麗有時只會讓人感覺到不真實~
我們在一個陽光燦爛的午後來到這裡,發現它是一個座落在海邊與山丘地的港都城市,喜歡爬山的人,可悠遊於青山步道中、盡覽五顏六色的小屋;愛海的人,可靜坐在涼風徐徐的海邊、迎接向晚的夕陽;喜歡文學的人,可以來此參觀詩人聶魯達位於 La Sebastiana 與 Isla de negra 的故鄉 。聶魯達曾在詩中稱 Valparaiso 是“一座向天上延伸的城市”,是否就是因這從海平面逐漸向上、映著藍天、鋪點在山丘上的繽紛彩顏,讓他發現了夢想的天堂。
聶魯達(Pablo Neruda, 1904-1973),1971 年諾貝爾文學獎得主,是智利浪漫詩人,也是 20 世紀最偉大的拉丁美洲詩人。對於智利,聶魯達只有無限的熱愛。在一次專訪裡有位記者問他: 「如果你不是在智利南部誕生,你希望能在那一個國家出生?」 詩人連想都沒想就直接回答:「如果我不在智利誕生的話,那我拒絕來到人世。」
我咀嚼著他義無反顧的肯定,回憶著自己站在台灣的東部海邊、眺望著無涯無盡的太平洋;回憶著自己開著車子在 193 縣道迎風奔馳,看著綿延不絕、雲氣壟罩的海岸山脈;回憶著自己無數次漫步在林中小徑、途中歇腳樹下啜飲一杯茶、坐擁群山芬芳的自己,當有人問我同樣的問題時,我會怎樣回答?
...
原來一個國家之於自己的意義,一個城市之於自己的感動,其實也許深刻得連自己都沒意識到,總是非得等到某個片刻,它的身影才會忽地從內心深處蹦出來,它的色彩才會鮮豔的令人無法忽視,強烈到想揮也揮不掉...
路還沒走完,開始適應 Valparaiso 高低起伏的丘陵地形了嗎 ...
而對於喜歡塗鴉之人士,此地絕對會讓人心癢難耐地想拿起大筆一揮,在這城市光影斜照的一個街腳、一處牆面、一扇窗櫺或一座階梯,留下神來一筆與創意激發。連我們這種畫畫盲,走著逛著都想偷偷留下一點屬於我們的傻而呆畫風,何況是那些滿腹詩意的畫家,怎會不想來個到此一遊呢?
於是樂歪了我們這些喜愛在戶外欣賞畫作之人,我們像尋寶似的在街頭巷尾尋找令人眼睛為之一亮的作品,快樂地與各式各樣的塗鴉互動、對話,或是靜靜地漫步在其中感受這匯聚各家大成的藝術能量,想像自己也是 21 世紀的一代大師,即將有名留千古之作在此產出,但到底是要寫詩還是作畫呢?貪心的我們 2 個都想要。
我們認真的思索起,是不是在這樣的一個城市,我們就能產生獨樹一格的能力?或是在這樣的一個地方,我們就有敢於表達自我的勇氣?
想著想著,一股似濃卻淡的尿騷味撲鼻而來,讓我們又忽然發現它藝術氣息之外的隨性一面... :)
專注拍照的新穎與生病須多吃幾顆藥的 Mei
Have you got my mail?
這兩個小妞在做啥?現在不是都有 e-mail 了?
《後記》
聶魯達的詩提到
Es tan corto al amor,y es tan largo el olvido
愛是那麼短暫,而遺忘卻是那麼漫長
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
那一個歡樂的午後
是否每個人都懷抱著屬於自己的愛情
在海邊
等待著被潮汐淹沒
而我呢?微笑的背後會是什麼?
Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
Write, for example, 'The night is shattered and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'
The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
Through nights like this one I held her in my arms. I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.
She loved me sometimes, and I loved her too. How could one not have loved her great still eyes.
Tonight I can write the saddest lines. To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the immense night, still more immense without her. And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.
What does it matter that my love could not keep her. The night is shattered and she is not with me.
This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance. My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
My sight searches for her as though to go to her. My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.
The same night whitening the same trees. We, of that time, are no longer the same.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her. My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.
Another's. She will be another's. Like my kisses before. Her voice. Her bright body. Her inifinite eyes.
I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her. Love is so short, forgetting is so long.
Because through nights like this one I held her in my armsmy soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.
Though this be the last pain that she makes me sufferand these the last verses that I write for her.
Pablo Neruda
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