東西交流（一）--Ingrid Anders的小說《偉斯泊奇探台灣》

常有會員、朋友熱心地向華府書友會推薦講者人選，身為書友會會長，我自然而然地成了第一道把關者，google一下受薦者、探其著作、問其講題•••，凡是知識的、文化的、歷史的、藝術的、文學的主題，中英文不限，都是華府書友會邀請的範疇。

旅遊小說家Ingrid Anders就是朋友李鈺美推薦的。8月13日我與Ingrid Anders共進晚餐 ，聊聊她的小說、旅遊、寫作，及她的第二本小說：《偉斯泊奇探台灣》(Kat Vespucci Takes Taiwan) 。

晚餐中，享受美食啤酒，激盪心靈思潮，東西交流廣泛，太廣，就先簡單介紹名字及她的第二本小說吧（詳細下回再述）。Ingrid Anders的本名是Ingrid Lombardo，Anders是她的筆名，Lombardo是個義大利的姓，她的父親是義大利裔、母親是德國裔，所以，她精通德語，義大利語也不差(駡人、咀咒人足矣) ，第一本小說寫的就是母親的祖國！小說的 主角名叫Kat Vespucci（就是她本人），Vespucci這個姓可是精心選取、大有來頭，那是取自亞美利哥·韋斯泊奇（Amerigo Vespucci）。亞美利哥·韋斯泊奇（Amerigo Vespucci ，1454年3月9日－1512年2月22日）是義大利的商人、航海家、探險家和旅行家，全稱亞美利加洲的美洲就是以他的名字命名的。韋斯泊奇對南美洲東海岸的考察，提出這是一塊新大陸，雖然，當時包括哥倫布在內的所有人都認為這塊大陸是亞洲東部。

Ingrid的旅遊小說，寓當地特色文化風俗於俏皮幽默細膩之中，讀後令人會心一笑之外，仍有不少回味深思，我就先將《偉斯泊奇探台灣》(Kat Vespucci Takes Taiwan)的第一 章譯之如下，原文隨后，以饕讀者、格友吧！（註：她是2004年2月至2005年4月待在臺灣，工作忙，遲至去年才出此書，小說中所述是九年前的臺灣）。

Ingrid的網址； http://www.ingridanders.com/  

Amazon上的網址: amazon.com/author/ingridanders

第一章 小女孩

上帝，在我的脖子被震斷之前，讓我下車吧。

憔悴的公車司機，有著豎立的黑髮，他的腳在剎車、油門間輪流重踏，好像在為STOMP樂團試鏡打拍。我與所有乘客前前後後整齊一致地擺動，身體之間零摩擦。我的頭髮、項鍊在我潮濕的頸部、肩上像鐘擺一樣左右晃動。

感覺上，蒸汽般的空氣就像是我的第二層皮膚。公車外熱鬧非凡，一群摩托車呼嘯而過；窗外，我瞥見棕櫚樹及一閃而過、不能看清楚的招牌。這是我第一次看到真的棕櫚樹，我在紐約的中國城也見過類似的招牌，但沒見過這麼多！

公車砰然而停、車門轟然而開。「台北市政府」公車司機對著麥克風吼叫。一波乘客下車，我努力地抓住我的兩個大行李箱；另一波乘客上車，並將我捲回原位。我努力地看著前面滾動的電子告示。

我在哪裡？

告示上寫著"台北市政府"。對我而言，那是希臘文。我迷路了。

有一個小女孩站在我旁邊，她一眼不眨地盯著我看；她的母親也是一眼不眨地盯著我看；車上其他人也都如此。

「哈囉！」一位提著公事包的男人說，「妳從哪裡來？」

「我從美國來，」我回答他，「你呢？」

「哦！美國好！」他叫道，並豎起了大拇指。

「哦，謝謝你，」我回答。

「我的英語很差，」他說。

「不，你的英語非常好，」我撒謊了。

「沒有，沒有！很差呢！」他說，並給了我一個大大的微笑，我周圍的人也給我大大的微笑，大夥都不眨一眼地持續了很長的一段時間瞪著我笑。

突然，我覺得我的左臂上有蜘蛛爬行的感覺。我搐動我的胳膊，看到小女孩的小手指正在檢查我的皮膚，她很認真，檢查到我的胳膊。

「為什麼她的皮膚那麼白？」她問她的母親。

「因為她是外國人，」她的母親解釋。我面露期待的表情，等待著永遠不會到來的翻譯。她的母親給了我一個大大的微笑，不眨一眼地持續了很長的一段時間瞪著我笑。然後，她終於說：「你離家很遠呢。」

「是的，」我同意地點頭，「我是離家很遠。」

小女孩正在撫摸我的胳膊，並向上盯著我的頭髮，「為什麼她的頭髮是金色？」小女孩問她的母親。

「因為外國人的頭髮都是這樣，」她的母親解釋。

依舊沒有翻譯。她倆的談話我無法插嘴，所以我回頭望著公車前面。

當初我是怎麼想的啊，為何要來這裡呢？當我去德國時，我已研究過德國多年。為什麼我不至少修一些中文課再來台灣呢？我瘋了嗎？

公車砰然而停、車門轟然而開。

「永春！」公車司機對著麥克風吼叫。那母親和小女孩在一波下車的乘客中消失，上車的乘客群中有一白人臉孔，當場就像救世主的光芒照亮了我，那女人也注意到我並對我點了頭，我給她一個絕望的眼神。

「你還好吧，伙伴？」她問。

「嗨！是的，我想還好吧，見到你真好，」我說著，好像認識她好幾年了。

「你看起來有點疲倦，剛來嗎？」

「是啊，剛落地。」

「工作或渡假？」

「什麼？」

「你來這裡是工作、還是渡假？」

「嗯，我來這裡教英語，今天是個節日嗎？」

她笑著說，「第一次到美國以外的地方嗎？」

「不，我曾去過歐洲。」

「對，好吧，歡迎來到離經叛道的一省。」

「謝謝，我覺得•••到這裡很好。」

「這是外國人教英語的好地方。」

「真的嗎？為什麼？」

「因為有很多的外國人在這裡。」

我環顧車內四周，「有嗎？」

「是的，」她說，「你會適應很好的。」

我再次環顧車內四周，「會嗎？」

她笑著說，「不用擔心，只需一些時間。你要到哪？我想我或許可以幫幫妳。」

「天母。」

「天哪！你早已過站了，你應該在大約五站前下車轉車的。」

「你不用說站名，我的站名已寫在這裡，」我給她看我印出的路線圖，「我以為當我到站時，我就能夠知道站名。」

「哦，你看得懂中文嗎？」女人問，並指著公車前面滾動的電子標示"永春"。

「嗯•••不行，」我搖搖頭。

「不過，我在德國時都可毫無失誤地搭乘公共交通系統，所以，我想•••」我的聲音漸漸變慢、變小了。

「沒錯。好，歡迎來到非拼音系統的地方，」她笑著說。

「是啊，我不知道我是在想什麼，搭上這輛公車。」

「不用擔心，妳只是有點冒險。如果可以的話，以後絕對要搭MRT。」

「什麼？」

「捷運。新建的、又超快，各站都有西方的文字。」

「噢，我的上帝，早知道就好了。」

「我想你目前最好的選擇就是計程車，讓我幫妳抬妳的行李吧。」

「好吧，謝謝你。」

當下一站公車砰然而停、車門轟然而開時，這女人幫我抬著旅行箱，讓一波下車的乘客擁著我們下了車。

到大街上，她招來一輛計程車。我遞給她我的路線圖，她用中文和司機說了些話，然後幫我抬行李箱放入車後箱內。

「我告訴司機你的地址，你應已進入排班系統。」

「非常感謝你。」

「小意思，很高興能協助你。」

「妳不知道‧‧‧」

「哦，我知道的，」她說，「我初來乍到時，我認為這是個最不靠譜的地方，但你會得到竅門的。」

「你真的這麼認為嗎？」

突然，前後左右，汽車、巴士、摩托車共15輛，猛鳴喇叭快速前衝，我的耳膜受損，我突然地擁抱那女孩，之後，才坐上計程車。

「別擔心！」她說，「不管你在家鄉做什麼，這裡教英文肯定會更好。」

計程車彈衝前進。我由後視鏡注視著站在路邊的女人，希望她也坐在車內。我的手指環繞著我脖子上銀項鍊垂掛下來的十字架，我當然希望她是對的。我想著我在家鄉紐澤西州中所做之事。

嗯，她是對的。

“Kat Vespucci Takes Taiwan”

Chapter One: The Little Girl

God, get me off this bus before I get whiplash.

The gaunt driver with erect, ink-black hair is slamming his foot alternately on the gas and brake pedals as if he’s auditioning for the musical STOMP. I sway forward and backward with the collective passenger mass, our bodies sliding frictionless against each other. My hair and necklace pendulate against my damp neck and shoulders.

The air feels like steam on my skin. A swarm of motor scooters buzzes around the bus. Out the window, I catch glimpses of palm trees and signs I can’t read flashing by. It is my first time ever seeing live palm trees. I’ve seen signs like these before in Chinatown in New York City but never this many.

The bus bangs to a halt, and the doors crash open. “Tái běi shì zhèng fǔ!” the bus driver yaps into the microphone. A wave of passengers disembarks, and I struggle to not separate from my two large suitcases. The second wave of passengers embarks and sweeps me back into place. I look desperately at the electronic scroll at the front of the bus.

Where am I?

台北市政府 it says. Greek to me. I am lost.

A little girl standing next to me has her eyes fixed on me without blinking. Her mother also has her eyes fixed on me without blinking. So does everybody else on the bus.

“Hello!” says a man with a briefcase. “You are from where?”

“I’m from America,” I answer him. “And you?”

“Oh! America good!” he exclaims, giving me a thumbs-up.

“Oh, thank you,” I answer.

“My English so poor,” he says.

“No, your English is very good,” I lie.

“No, no! Very poor,” he says, and gives me a big smile that he holds for a long time without blinking. Others around me also give me big smiles that they hold for a long time without blinking.

Suddenly, I feel the sensation of a spider crawling on my left arm. I jerk my arm away and look to see the tiny fingers of the little girl inspecting my skin. She persists, reaching out again for my arm.

“Wèi shén me tā de pí fū nà me bái?” she asks her mother.

“Yīn wèi tā shì wài guó rén,” her mother explains. I give them an expectant look, waiting for a translation that never comes. The mother gives me a big smile that she holds for a long time without blinking. Then she finally says, “You are very far from home.”

“Yes,” I nod in agreement. “I am very far from home.”

The little girl is petting my arm and staring up at my hair. “Wèi shén me tā de tóu fa nà me jīn sè?” the little girl asks her mother.

“Yīn wèi wài guó rén de tóu fa dōu shì zhè yàng,” her mother explains.

Again, no translation. There is nothing I can contribute to the conversation, so I turn my glance back to the front of the bus.

What the hell was I thinking moving here? When I moved to Germany, I had studied German for years. Why didn’t I at least take some Mandarin classes before moving to Taiwan?

Am I nuts?

The bus bangs to a halt and the doors crash open.

“Yǒng chūn!” the driver yaps into the microphone. The mother and the little girl are swept away in the wave of disembarking passengers. In the wave of embarking passengers is a Caucasian face, the site of which hits me like the beam of a rescue light. The woman notices me too and nods. I give her a desperate look.

“You right, mate?” she asks.

“Hi! Yes, I think so. It’s so good to see you,” I say, as if I’ve known her for years.

“You’re looking a bit knackered. Just get here?”

“Yeah, I just touched down.”

“Work or holiday?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you here for work or holiday?”

“Um, I came here to teach English. Is today a holiday?”

She laughs. “First time outside America?”

“No, I’ve been to Europe before.”

“Right. Well, welcome to the renegade province.”

“Thanks. It’s good to be here—I think.”

“This is a great place for foreigners to teach English.”

“Really? Why is that?”

“Because there are so many foreigners here.”

I look around the bus. “There are?”

“Yes,” she says. “You’ll fit right in.”

I look around the bus again. “I will?”

She laughs. “No worries. Just give it some time. Where are you off to? I reckon I might be able to help you get there.”

“Tianmu.”

“Cripes! You’re way past it. You should have connected about five stops ago.”

“You don’t say. I have the stop names written down here,” I show her my printed directions, “and somehow I thought I’d be able to identify the stops when I got there.”

“Oh, do you read Chinese?” the woman asks, pointing to the electronic scroll at the front of the bus. 永春, it says.

“Um … no.” I shake my head. “But I managed the public transportation system fine in Germany, so I thought …” my voice trails off.

“Right. Well. Welcome to the land of nonphonetic script,” she says, laughing.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking, getting on this bus.”

“No worries. You’re just in for a little adventure, that’s all. In the future, if you can, definitely take the MRT.”

“The what?”

“The metro. It’s new and superfast. And the stops are transcribed into Western letters.”

“Oh my God, if I had only known.”

“I reckon a cab is your best bet at this point though. Let me help you get your things off the bus.”

“Okay, thank you.”

When the bus bangs to a halt at the next stop and the doors crash open, the woman helps me lift my suitcases, and we let the wave of disembarking passengers sweep us off the bus.

Once out on the street, she hails a taxicab. I hand her my printed directions, and she says something to

the driver in Chinese. Then she helps me lift my suitcases into the trunk.

“I told the driver your address. You should be sorted.”

“Thank you so much.”

“No worries. Glad to help.”

“You have no idea.”

“Oh, yes I do,” she says. “When I was new here, I thought it was the dodgiest place ever. But you’ll get the hang of it.”

“You think so?”

Suddenly the fifteen cars, buses, and motor scooters behind, next to, and in front of us punch their horns in rapid succession. My eardrums strain under the volume. I give the girl an abrupt hug and board the taxi.

“Don’t worry!” she says. “Whatever you were doing back home, this will beat it.”

The taxicab springs forward. I stare at the woman standing on the curb through the rear window, wishing she were inside with me. My fingers wrap around the crucifix dangling from the silver chain around my neck. I sure hope she’s right. I think about what I was doing back home in New Jersey.

Yeah. She’s right.