最近竟然看上一些博客， 然后七弯八拐链接看到如下文字，于是呵呵，心有戚戚焉（别看我身在异国，跟祖国人民还是很一条心啊！注：尤其是最末一句）

“我想起那首著名的诗：喂马，劈柴，周游世界，关心粮食和蔬菜，有一所房子，面朝大海，春暖花开。这是一个多么昂贵的理想啊。养马，旅游，圈地，海景房，做一个幸福的人，要很多很多钱的。
唉，
我很邪恶地想发财。”——from非非的非

其它时候，一个人安安静静在所谓的日常生活里吃喝拉撒，或喜或悲。然而，因为有这个叫做互联网的无形场，即便有时脑子漂流闷声无聊在人人都顺理成章迟到早退的老挝政府机关楼里却因为德国老板玉树临风的存在必须得拼到五点整（加班的，别跟我急，咱国情不同），我便会大开一小差上来看各位MSN spaces，让脑袋里多余而澎湃的无聊泡沫浸泡臆想一下the life of others.

于是，你现在正在阅读着的，也就是你想像着感慨着有时关注却无须刻意琢磨的——我沛某人的生活。

记得我曾经多年没用MSN，一个古时候的、还镌刻我无知年代某不搭界英文名字的hotmail邮箱也早已青草丛生。而那也正是从‘.edu’的大学邮箱过渡到gmail, 并从在校时不屑于facebook的愤青乖乖成长为其庞大网络中一个不起眼ID的年代。然后，北美大陆腹地的大学毕业把一个人毕得彷徨，开始在某个角落开张写博痴人说梦。——直到，某天发现竟然MSN还存档着那么多曾经的新鲜和新鲜的曾经，于是忙不迭把开张几个月的博搬上MSN，虽然在很长一段时间内都不着急呼朋唤友地‘老乡见老乡’。但毕竟，找到组织了。

而这组织，是多么的无边无际，而又多么地支离破碎。虽然看似一个鼠标滴答，然而有很多遥远也扑面而来——那些四面八方与海角天涯。
于是，我们的书写和阅读在时刻构建与解构着我们对自己生活的牢骚或是参悟，也很公平地同时窥视和假设这些network ID里他人的生活——而妙处，则在于这些不全是无相关的他人或早已是公众视野里的他人。这些他人都是跟你多少类似多少有过轨迹交集的人——而你，也是他们的‘他人’。

便有些放心。
继而也难免八卦——因为有人的地方，自然有八卦，哪怕缥缈似网络大气中一缕行将消失的水汽；
有时更不免矫情——因为人性使然，知道有人望着，总是多少有些being self-conscious。
于是读到的，也大部分是大家心理较坚强，生活较平稳时期的作品，哪怕是用来舔旧伤或是发些泛泛的、只有小众理解的布满隐晦谜语的感慨——大家都是业余写写嘛，那种灰头土脸呜呼哀哉自做自贱魂不守舍的日子我们都小心翼翼而顾影自怜地低调度过，潜水看网络里我们的他人们，羡慕一下，欣慰一下或是小不爽一下。

我们的日子，也便这样在无尽地渴求关注和分享关注之中笨拙却顽强地轮转前行。我们的生活，也便这样在喧嚣热闹与萎靡不振间跌宕，冷暖自知。
好在有这些他人的文字，他人的生活，或远或近，算支持、算参照。本没所谓100％的“真实生活”一说， 但每每令人欣慰的，是我们都如此鲜活着、挣扎着的事实。而既然是事实，就向来如此坚硬却美丽。

对老挝首都万象感觉从来都象是跟朋友的朋友——有时会见到，算个面熟，寒暄几句，然而即便有common friend的搭桥，总归不那么亲近。这是两年里第四次来，没有传说中此时节的燥热，却是湿漉漉的雨季酝酿，竟然也花木葱茏，街巷深深。也终于神奇地发现两年来那些别处牵起的人际网络都有一搭没一搭地在这首都挂了号，所以在这次行将离开老挝之前的万象之行中得以住在熟人家而省去住店的单调，得以有几个号码打着‘呼朋唤友’，当然也就会转悠在大街上迎面碰到一些不期的面孔：是惊喜、漠然还是心中有数却假做不见就全看曾经是如何邂逅、怎样的karma——缘分游离聚散，可爱可恨可笑抑或可叹，哪怕时空挪移——即便是别处发生的故事，到时候了，也总得有轮回。
于是这个城市，这一次，终于拥有了记忆。


某年某月＊此时此地

裙角的雨季阳光
牵连一个本陌生的城
瞬间转身
往事    惊鸿一瞥
——记忆的深水鱼雷
    千里之外
    五万公尺以下
余波坚硬透明
    似我遮阳镜片
聚焦此刻
    一张面孔
十米开外
    半秒对视

继而风转身
阳光有些不屑
街市从未缄默
脚步不曾凌乱

可以不动声色的
只有记忆
也因此
这城不再陌生

本来不想在自己的space里面给工作上的事费字节的，但是我亲爱的德国老板们已经给即将开溜的我下达了任务：你不继续也行，但是得找一个来接替！因为需要一个牛似本人的，所以不好找 （—哈哈，这是插播的王婆卖瓜——而且本人撤离不是因为没有工作热情，而是来老挝已经两年，需要move on了）：其实，实话确实是咱老牌德意志联邦政府下属发展机构GTZ（预知人家详情，自己去google）在招一个接我班做consultant for Chinese investment的，而且因为工作需要同在老挝的广大中国投资者直接interact, 所以非得是中国人才能胜任；然后呢，working language是英革里西——人家德国佬没有要求你听说读写德文算客气——因为毕竟是国际机构（虽然工作地点是基层），英文得拿得出手，而且隔三差五其它老外项目来考察啊什么的，你不能老说中文对吧。薪水呢，人家GTZ毕竟不是乡镇企业，你好歹一个consultant，虽然在第三世界，还是不会亏到哪里去（也会看你学历和工作经验啦，本人一介BA都出来混，你看⋯⋯）。——老挝尤其是foreign aid支撑的国家，到万象转一圈，那些café里头都是各个agency的expat consultant，一个个ADB、WFP、WB等等不一而足(当然，这种acronym充斥的生活也是当机构consultant的职业必然)，虽然有点扯远了，但意思就是说有些不熟悉的看客可能不晓得老外里头好多竟然以consultant为lifestyle，一个一个项目、一个一个机构地做，飞啊飞，累了就度假，然后再出来consult⋯⋯不过，这份工作的地点不在老挝伟大首都万象，而在老挝北部的Luang Namtha省首府——也叫Luang Namtha。因为GTZ是政府间合作项目，所以上班地点在省投资规划委大楼，直接在老挝政府部门里头。此南塔城的好处就是离咱伟大祖国母亲她特别近：距中老磨丁—磨憨边境口岸只一个钟头，本人于是得以进出西双版纳如同自家后花园… ^^

所以哪位看客如果真的有点那么瞬间蠢蠢那么欲动就做个声，或者推荐给你可能有兴趣的、富有理想主义、热爱挑战、脑袋有时不知道是多了还是少了一根筋、适应能力和communication skills非凡的朋友们⋯⋯ 有兴趣的，具体的job description和terms of reference本小姐再给你单独发，就不用在这里广而告之了（包括timeframe之类，都还on the flexible side，因为当初这个position就有点‘量身定做’的味道）。一句话：中、老、西（international development world）三方政策交流的历史重任就都在咱肩上了！！！

青芒果、鲜竹笋以及两周年

1. Green Mango
雨季将近，沉甸甸的不只是有时的乌云，还有路边枝头累累的青芒果。来老挝的老外最爱的除了菠萝就是芒果：芳香馥郁的热带水果让每一个味蕾恣意绽放。我对芒果不算热衷，但没有摩托、走路上班的好处之一就是可以让自己在十分钟的路程之中被路边的花花草草和没有围墙的人家院子里一树树壮硕的青芒果引诱，开始想像仰头一口酸酸甜甜的滋味——比那些熟透而澄黄温软的果实更具挑战性。在万象的一个朋友早就给我打过她家院子的广告，说尤其是芒果季节，她的泡芒果和芒果酱远近闻名——见过她的吃相，我对她的美食鉴赏和制作能力没有怀疑。于是这个礼拜彻底向青芒果投降，某天哗哗地一气吃掉两个，坐着犯傻的同时想起我妈曾经讲过她在海南当知青的年代彻底被自己批量腌制的酸辣芒果征服的故事——征服的结果是她大呼过瘾的同时肚疼三天不止。嘿嘿，这我倒是不跟她比了⋯⋯

2. Young Bamboo Shoots as NTFP
前俩礼拜两个德国女孩子来南塔做硕士论文调研。到底是学林业跟热带农业的，跟她们一起混，结果她们比我还local，竟然大方地买来市场上水灵鲜嫩的新鲜竹笋，边聊边剥麻利得很，然后脆生生地一口下去——我们在老挝做rural development的都知道，这些林子里收集来的笋啊菌啊行话叫做NTFP（Non-Timber Forest Product，非木质类林产品）。但实话说，我对鲜竹笋若此是有心理障碍的：味道没话说，嫩。但这种买来要自己现剥的还真没辙了——上次跟一帮云南西双版纳的一起吃饭，人家吃笋子长大的，三下两下，剥出一根象牙塔似的；只有我，越剥越小，越剥越没内容，原来是方法不对，把可吃的部分都层层连皮消耗掉了，结果只好勉强在剥下来的壳里寻找嫩肉，然后还要生生被这些云南人耻笑，说我好端端的不吃笋子只吃皮，唉⋯⋯ 这回终于在同这些德国女孩一起时judgment-free的友好环境里憋了一口气，认认真真重新操练。终于世上无难事，发现诀窍（从上还是从下），继而开始无可救药地上瘾，以至于现在每每看到傍晚市场上人家乡民挖了一天从林子里挖来的象牙白的笋子就心动，往往等不及回家要下锅就已经喀哧喀哧当餐前开胃菜给消灭殆尽⋯⋯

3. Two-Year Anniversary
吃的讲完之后就讲点sentimental的：再过两天，五月三十一号将标志本人成功登陆老挝两年整。——两年前，二零零七年五月三十日下午从广州白云机场飞泰国曼谷再转到清迈，之前一天在广州匆匆一行，见到另外四个高中275的同学，除了接待我的“地主”，另外三个都是从雅礼作别之后没见过的。惊喜之余不免有点感叹。记得晚饭后在珠江边，看着水面模糊的霓虹，身边是旧友和翻新的回忆，想着第二天又要一个人踏上一段完全不可知的旅途，去完全陌生的国度，一切都那么恍惚而不真实。夜晚人已稀少的地铁里，FM的照相机记录下我们五个人车窗反光里排排坐的‘合影’。

我行李超重——as always。泰航毕竟不是美国什么都是super size。入境曼谷还要临时落地签visa on arrival，一边掏介绍信保证说是陆路前往老挝，不会非法居留。小一折腾visa搞定，但担心误掉转接清迈的班机，一路小跑，估计形象狼狈。气喘吁吁上得清迈的这一趟，还没坐定就突然紧张以为不见了护照，以至于惊扰到邻座一位clean-cut的大眼睛泰国帅哥，用标准而温软的泰式英文问我是否需要帮助——当然护照并没有丢失，而我也终于平静下来。帅哥在曼谷工作，那个周末逢节日回清迈父母家，问我，见我说第一次来泰国而且还将以志愿者身份取道泰国去老挝立即表示：你如果在清迈有什么要帮忙的就找我，一边给我一张名片——现在我还保存着，只是他头衔叫做‘Sales Engineer’我一直没搞明白是什么意思。
——这份陌路的关照让旅途中神经亢奋的我在心里头微笑了，而且绝对相信此人诚恳，因为那种一惊一乍的状态下的我还戴副眼镜是肯定不怎么attractive的！于是开始放松下来，想，这会是一程旅途平安和美的征兆吧？（虽然可惜帅哥运没有得到明显延续^_^）

清迈夜里九点多，我呼吸着她热带的潮湿打车去旅店，蝉鸣、椰影、护城河荧荧闪耀，令我无声惊喜。一条潮湿的小径、旅店里缓缓的吊扇、藤桌椅，我的毛孔张开，品尝新鲜的东南亚，脑子里却莫名想起了《情人》——那算是此行前我最‘东南亚’的印象了吧。
第二天一早有我接待方安排好的司机来接我，竟然非常准时。然后是四个钟头从清迈到边境清孔的蜿蜒山路。司机几乎不说英文，很老实地只开车——是我们机构‘御用’了多少年的司机。到了清孔办好出境手续就这样跟泰国再见了——眼前是浑黄的湄公，而对岸，就是老挝，就是那个叫做会晒（Houay Xay）的城市。

于是二零零七年五月三十一日下午二时许，二十三岁对未来一无所知却一腔热情的我跟两件行李搭一条马达突突的小船横渡湄公，那边早已有笑容满面的行政主管Mr.Sakda在岸边等我：“Are you Jipei?”

⋯⋯

——So, what do I say now?
In one sentence: me and Laos, it’s like a blind-date turned out well.

所以，两年后的今天，咬着青芒果、剥着鲜竹笋，我心存感激。

As the drama called development unfolds, romanticism twirls with realism; relationships break down into affairs. All in the name of love (or for the sake of fun), let’s just have our imagination run wild for a moment from studies and reports, debates and negotiations, to re-account the characters and stories of what’s been playing everyday on the stage of ‘development’ in this small and peaceful country called Laos.

In this version, the western development agencies will play the role of a rich old boyfriend, classy and sophisticated, having been engaged in a long-term relationship with our lady called Laos for well over a decade now. He is the Alexander Petrovsky of a modern day fairy tale (allow me to reference Sex and the City) who still cites poem and composes piano sonata for his lover. He calls Oscar de la Renta by first name, and will deliver a girl her dream dress in a ribbon box as soon as she sets her eye on one. He smiles at the bubbling potential in her—like ‘moonlight in martini’, and fantasizes her growth with unchanged purity. She makes him nostalgic of the ‘simple and clean’ days of his distant youth, but at the same time, he has unfortunately forgotten the growing pain for such age: all the bad temper and restlessness. As a result, sometimes he acts overly protective, trying to shield her from all what he considers ‘bad influences’, only to find himself being left aside from time to time when she disappears at the first phone call and stays out the whole night.

The rich old boyfriend’s nephew, played by the backpackers and the growing tourism sector, has grown to be attracted to our lady from the green mountains as well. He is young and restless, off to sail the world. The first time he sees her yawn, waking up from her nap in front of a bamboo house, he thought she is the legendary sleeping beauty from time as ancient as the world, like a well-kept secret. They’d go watch the sunset and share a beer by the Mekong. –-He doesn’t know her language, but without exchanging words, they can still enjoy the moment. He wouldn’t stay long, already packing for a next destination. But while passing a joint with his buddies, his words, photos, and videos begin to orbit in space on Twitter, YouTube, Facebook and travel blogs—in his own way, the young nephew makes this encounter and all the romanticism immortal in a virtual world that is far from hers. And a digital capture of her smile becomes an instant hit in that world, with the number of fans counting. 

The influential newly arrived private investors, mostly from the neighboring Asian countries, will play the long-lost childhood friend who returns with considerable wealth, after years of disappearance, from his adventure that has been widely talked about and continuously exaggerated. He is at the same time flamboyant and cautious, knowing very well the controversy stirred by his presence. He is aware also, of the half jealous stares of her rich old boyfriend: he questions his wealth, his character, his motive, and the future he paints for a now distracted lady: his picture of the future is full of noisy growth of skyscrapers that blossom in a garden of seemingly wildly planted machinery of all variety. Despite warnings mixed with tenderness from the rich old boyfriend, the lady flows at her will to be drawn to her new old friend, while letting the romance quickly develops into a passionate affair. –Only that the next morning, when this new old friend wakes up with a secret smile of victory, he finds the lady gone sipping breakfast coffee with her usual circle, and only spares him an ambiguous smile that keeps him wondering.

In this game of heart and secret ambition, everyone knows all too well the cliché of ‘don’t try to change the lover’, yet the daily drama unfolds tirelessly without a sign of stopping—and she knows that is because, in this game, she is hardly innocent. She is eager to grow up, yet feels deeply insecure; she is becoming increasingly aware of her attractiveness, but her maneuver of interests is not yet tactful. Calling the game “in the name of love” might just well be the kind of caption one adds to attract teenage school girls, for cynicism always prevails long before there’s any sight of a first hair turning grey.

Then, at the end of the day, when she is for a moment all by herself, away from the drama, she quietly returns to her place where there is the only mirror that could honestly reflect her real age: she is neither as young as some assume, nor is she old as some others suspect. When she turns away from the mirror, she sees her many children in the room, some still crawling, some trying to walk, and some crying for food and attention. Then silently, tears would roll down on her cheek, leaving two fresh and shining tracks of washed away make-up.

有同事出差，于是这个礼拜得以每天舒服地在南塔空旷的大马路上骑着人家一辆蓝牌照（政府牌）的摩托上班下班，‘招摇过市’。

两日前早八点有余，热带阳光已然明丽，一副轻松样子，没有任何异常的预兆。我涂抹一番，跨上停在家门前的Honda，整装待发。发动，换一档，突突地前进了一寸，还在长长的屋檐下来不及转弯，然后家门前四根木柱下房东摆的盆栽之一就无声地滚倒在前轮一边，陶盆咧开个口子，里面直着个脖子开花的荆棘便换做了横卧的姿势。心里暗骂猪头，咬牙愤恨本人摩托技术一世英名毁在家门口不说，这一天开张就是这个样子哪怕‘凶多吉少’——好在老挝著名的低人口密度保证了不会马上有一行唾沫横飞的路人围观，而我却可以在如此中心地段且邻街的家门前，在发现根本没有目击者的情况下，安静地自我检讨15秒，然后‘扬长而去’。但又有谁想到50米开外那从来只是形同虚设、门窗紧闭的的大路口岗亭里，正有几个无所事事的交警今天一大早出来赚‘外快 ’——于是刚上路不到5秒钟，瞥见卡其布颜色的制服，一边暗叫‘不好’，一边已经被吹了哨子——本小姐没有戴头盔（而世界上哪个正常的老挝公民会在这么空旷高温的南塔市内戴着恐龙头盔来来往往呢？又不是在越南——当然长途行驶另当别论）。况且现在偶尔骑骑借来的摩托，也根本就没有头盔。

于是只好停下，掉转头停到警察叔叔一边。虽然心里明白，却换上了一副莫名而愤慨的脸——
警察（当然是说老文）：文件／证件呢？
我：（圆睁双眼，表示不理解：对他们的‘无故’喊停不服，而且表示对此语言一窍不通）⋯⋯
两个警察开始面面相觑，有点慌了。又问，我照旧装聋作哑而且做无奈忿忿状。警察没有办法，开始搔头，见我掏出手机，警察松了口气，发现至少还有解决办法不至于僵持。我对着电话开始噼哩吧啦说英文：也无须多说，两年的老挝同事、行政总管Sakda很有默契，于是把电话交给警察，让他们去说。这一个正说着，后又冒出一个交警，开始嘀咕说我是日本人还是韩国人。我什么都懂，听得又急又乐。半分钟后，电话回到我手上，已经是Sakda告诉我说没问题了，理由是：‘外国人，初犯’，于是逃过50,000kip (相当于40几块人民币)的罚款——我表面不动声色，心里告诫自己看样子今儿得行事小心，继而重新启动引擎，绝尘而去。到了办公室，一进门眼见好人Sakda，两个人相视大笑。

——因为说我外国人是真，‘初犯’是假。在老挝将近两年的‘光荣历史’里怎么着也有几次同交警类似的‘交手’：第一次自己惊魂未定本色出演，而且当时语言不通也属实，把个年轻交警吓到，忙不迭给我放了，根本无须劳烦Sakda。后来也偶尔碰过，自己都担心当时全城都认识我的情况下，再装聋作哑不会奏效，结果还是成功脱险。问Sakda，原来这种‘突击’都是给警校学生的‘实习’，而这些伢子不驻在当地，也就无从知晓我这种熟脸孔‘老外’的真假，得以有惊无险。而搬来南塔，这么久了还是头一回撞到，给我惊一小跳。

最后声明，一般情况下，本人还是优秀老外一个，遵纪守法，中规中矩。只是觉得全老挝人民都少有遵守的，也无须我一个老外去白白给这些实习交警贡献啤酒钱吧！

Some had once ‘complained’ that they could not get an idea of my life here in Laos although they enjoyed very much reading my rambling in this blog. I guess that’s a fair complain considering my lack of awareness of the probably understated ‘significance’ of such mundane thing called ‘daily life’. So here, a slice of my simple everyday life in my current and also the third city/town in Laos, Namtha (which, I have to say, really different from lives in the previous two places, but whatever…).

7:07am, my cell phone alarm goes off and I stay in bed for at least another 10 minutes, hearing the already on-going busy morning outside. A somewhat distant voice coming out of the loudspeaker on the street is floating in the air. It is the official local radio, like certain times back in the days in China.

Unlike in Houay Xay, my first post, I don’t have a motorbike here like everyone else. The huge streets in Namtha not only speak of a Soviet-era inspired design, the grid layout and the fact that the city is on a perfect plain also provide me a comfortable enough setting to walk to work—which, is still considered unthinkable by many. “What? You walk?” However, the good thing is that when I’m lucky, I hear a motorbike engine approaching, and usually some kind fellow I know will offer me a ride. If I’m wearing a skirt, then I sit sideways and dangle my feet while making sure my sandals won’t fall off.

Our office is at the Provincial Planning and Investment Department, on the way to the giant golden stupa on top of the hill. Just like all the other government offices here, DPI often feels half-empty, and the head of the department is this more or less mysterious figure to me because he is only here half of the year (the other half year, he is allegedly receiving ‘political training’ in the country’s capital). As the only female on the second floor, I tend to lock the bathroom door when I go in.
 
I have four German colleagues. As I always say: coming to Laos, who would have thought I’d meet this many Germans? But no, I (still) don’t speak German. English is the working language, and I am often intrigued when my dear colleague Klaus drifts from English to French seamlessly at the end of sentences (he has spent the last ten years working in Morocco). When the two of us go to the field, you will see us trying to fit together our still imperfect Lao to communicate with officials or villagers. Yesterday, we went to talk to a Hmong village head and it turned out that he spoke near perfect Chinese—what a relief!

I go home for lunch these days since I started cooking two months ago. The sun gets hot in the middle of the day, and the streets outside turn so quiet as if to leave an empty stage for the solo show of the tropical heat. I shut the wooden doors and shutters, so I can enjoy a quiet and relatively cool meal. By the way, I don’t live alone. One of my German colleagues, a 19-year-old boy, rents the house together with me. 

The rest of the afternoon, the office building feels easily deserted. But it only takes you a bit of walking to the back to discover the secret: they have already moved on to the most popular national pastime—a ball game called pétanque, brought by the French. And most often than not, you will find cases of Beer Lao on set as well, and as many joke that those are by far the most successful French and German contribution to the development of Laos: the game and the beer.

As the heat retreats as the afternoon ends and evening falls, I actually really enjoy the walk back after work, and I sometimes refuse ride offers. There are mountains surrounding the city at the end of roads, the dark green silhouette remind you that you are never far from nature. There are again, some busy sounds as in the morning, but with a small population, even a city like Namtha feels forever half-empty. But it is relaxing too, seeing small children play in front of their houses by the road, people washing themselves with buckets of cold water outside, and a dumb chicken flapping its useless wings as it freaks out at an approaching engine sound. 

My house is next to one of those huge streets, and my landlord’s house right next to mine. They are by far the best landlords I have had in Laos, a sweet of family six. They have planted flowers in the front; in the back, ducks and chickens they feed are always funny to watch as I do my washing and preparation for cooking. I run quickly to the market at this time of the day as well. It is still fresh, wet, and busy there. The vegetables are always charming. 

Six o’clock, again, the radio speaks around town through those loudspeakers. The evening market of food vendors around the block start to receive its first wave of customers, foreign tourists as well as locals. I turn the volume up of my speakers and cook dinner at home in my own music. By the time I finish up and wash dishes in the back, I see fireflies with their small flying lanterns all over the places. And there’s the crickets entering center stage of the night concert.  Streets outside of my house is quieting down with occasional engine roar of some teenager’s motorbike. No longer the ‘wedding season’ (usually during the dry season), so no more all-night music blasting that one can still here kilometers away, thank goodness!

I shower, make tea, read, or watch a movie on my computer. I keep all the shutters open for the cooling air to fill the house—not as many mosquitoes as one would imagine. But for sleeping, I take no risks of getting bitten—by 10:30pm, I climb into my bed protected by a blue mosquito net and dream into another around of this so-called ‘everyday life’.