叢林小子

Moscow to Beijing， a Summer of 1973

MOSCOW

I was born in Bern–Switzerland. It was the mid-70’s， a time when cold war was at its height. New York City was still a mad city， with Star Wars on the screens and Apple in the garage. Unlike usual beliefs that Swiss were all born in golden cribs， my family was from a rather humble background； my grandfather was a train driver and my dad a self-made man. It was probably my mother’s side that infused me with an artistic nature. My father worked his entire career for Swissair （Swiss Airlines） and early on was sent abroad for management positions around the globe. This was how I became“un enfant du voyage” – a globetrotter’s kid. My favorite part is to believe that 1972 1973 played an essential role on my birth date （1rst of May） and destiny– while posted in Moscow - Russia， my parents visited Beijing - China.

GHANA 1976-1980

ACCRA

I guess most children don’t remember their toddler years， but for me Ghana imprinted vivid memories like a bed time fairytale. I remember the big old planes hanging in the halls of the Zurich airport and the airplanes hazy views from the windows in the hall of the airport vaccination departmenrt where oversized syringes awaited us for all kinds of vaccines we had to take every year. I remember the very cool moments on flight： the premium food plateaux， the then charming hostesses， Lego boxes and wooden toys！ Flying was then fun！ …but long … You could still feel the planet was a huge place to travel and to be discovered.

At the time west Africa was a great place to be. “The Golden Coast” was true to its meaning， Ghana was living a peaceful time and fairly harmonious relations with foreigners. I remember the many small villages and tribes– each with their dialect and proud colors. I remember my parents friends having a lot of cross cultural marriages. It seemed to me like a big friendly planet.

My years in Accra were fantastic. We lived in a compound made of two storage apartments， most surrounded by expats but also well-doing Ghanaian and Arabic indigenous. We had a big red dirt tennis court in its middle and a lush tropical park. The back of the compound had a local village where our parents advised us not to venture； Stories came from time to time such as family cat disappearing in the cooking pan of the local medicine man.

Africa was a land of tales， of adventure and anecdotes – I tried to choose a set of them to describe my path during those years， and the ones which touched me the most.

DOWNTOWN

I would rarely go downtown to visit my dad’s office. But still， we would sometimes go to the open markets with our cranky 504 Peugeot and I could glance at the city buzz – there were people， people and more people everywhere， attached to their daily routines： car fixer， fruit seller， butcher， ivory dealer， mahogany craftsmen， the red eyed bell pepper merchants， bicycle riders without rubber tubes …and legions of lorries， overloaded with goods and men – smoky， smelly and short of a wheel – all proudly stamped with a spiritual slogan on the top front. The summer heat was wet and the dusty red earth layered amidst the“urbanization” of the city - unfinished houses and shafts were painted over and over between “office buildings” and hand painted advertising slogan.

The airport was an old concrete flat building where you could always see late passengers running along the track to catch their flight with already closed doors！ The plane would halt， reopen the hatch and bring back the stairs truck. There was also a “goodbye”terrace on the roof for relatives to see the departing peoples， Cardboard boxes would suddenly fly off the roof to be caught by the passengers below who wanted to avoid the security check – a“chicken farm” like dance would then start between them and those escaping in all directions …

WEEK-ENDS

Beside the Sunday night scorching three hours church mass – when I usually fell quickly asleep， most of our time was spent outdoor. My first bottle of beer was at around five - when left alone at the beer club on the track of the bowling alley， and taking the nickname of bush kid - I was also frequently a“chair lemur， sofa panther and a carpet caterpillar” … a regular of precarious but comfortable places where we would be dropped to fall asleep till dawn； so much pool parties were thrown around. Week-end also meant beach time. We would squeeze as many families as possible in the few cars – kids and dogs would be in the car trunk or even on the floor of the front seat and still had to resist the 1：30h bush ride in the sandy dirt roads to the seashore. Many had installed simple bamboo huts. We unfolded the hammock， opened the colorful barbecue grill， rice salads and cutlery … While grown ups would go on for endless Bridge card games and naps， we would dig ourselves in sand holes and replay Treasure. African shores were wild. The strong waves produced fresh sprays of water in the wind. Lines of coconut palm tree bended their body towards the ocean， pounded by numerous years of sea erosion … they can also be traitorous：

THE BEACH

The area had serious under currents（called the sea bed blade） which made it sportive for fishermen to bring back their long rowing boats ashore and for swimmers to simply come back. One afternoon my brother and friends went out for play， but soon “the blade”was pulling them away at large. The wave made their desperate screams unaudible. I stayed on the beach， building sand， when my dog Cadi started barking loudly towards them. While I was still wondering what was going on， he already had ran towards the bamboo hut where the adults napped and motivated them to the rescue！ It took three strong guys attached to a rope to bring the kids back … “My dog had saved more than the day！” – If drown or eaten by sharks， they would have been fated to a certain death.

THE ZOO

Africa is an animal kingdom – to eat or to be eaten. My sister loved to eat ants； red ants loved to eat big chunk of meat we gave them at the horse farm. Snakes would kill people down the shower drain； our gardener would chop their head and skin them so we could collect reptilian trophies. My personal favorite was Accra’s zoo， where a big old Gorilla kept the entrance while begging for bananas and gave you a hand shake if you rewarded him. We could touch and feed almost all the animals – the giraffes fences were so low that they could bend over for a big hug and ate your T-shirt at the same time. Chills ran all over our body each time we wandered around the snakes and spiders vivarium rotunda – it had so many cracks on the walls and glass that you hoped they wouldn’t escape. The crocodile pond was particularly spooky.You had to cross over with a run down brick bridge to continue the visit， and thus it later produced terrible nightmares： I would scream for my parents help to save me from those crawling under my bed， or the fruit bats feeling the indoor lights and smashing unexpectingly on the windows.

BROTHERHOOD

Not far from the American compound was an old carcass of a Russian helicopter， which served now as a fantastic playground for kids - such places served our childhood. We had to be adventurous and inventive， and we enjoyed every moments under the sun or a tropical storm. I was half naked most of the time. My ultra blond look mixed with a sun-tanned skin amazed the local kids - they always wanted to touch our hairs.

I was the last in my family and I learned the hard way to live brotherhood. All kids of mixed ages hung out as a band. Of course the little ones where the one to be blamed， hurt or put to the test. My knees used to bleed at least once a week， either while riding a big yellow plastic truck or a fat tire trotinette at high speed over big bumps formed by the massive roots of trees …and bam …another one … My nanny would spend sometimes an hour to take the pebbles out of our wounds.

Quickly my brother discovered I would turn hysterical when he made me cry on purpose. He found that rather funny. Once we were playing in a large mahogany tree. We usually had a small machete and whistle to warn of eventual snakes or nasty wild birds. Somehow my brother picked on me. Infuriated， I brandished the machete and swing it in his direction. Being on the branches he hadn’t much mobility and the blade tore his T-shirt open at height of his stomach. In a blink of an eye， his survival instinct kicked me off the tree and I fell， smack in the middle of a flat leaf cactus， with part of my arms， side and leg covered with spines. We both never started again.

Living the “bush” life， we became relatively danger-conscious and alert …We were living like Crusoe， free and wild.

QUEBEC， 1980 - 1981

MONTREAL

A year that will seal a destiny.

Imagine： a +35oC mostly topless blond headed “bush” boy， parachuted in 1FREEZING cold Montreal！ Montreal became my first “conscious” moving out/moving in destination.

I started to realize what the loss of friends and the gain of new ones really meant. At it would go on like this for years， like a sand castle being buildt up and a few years later washed out. But good things always happen when you pay attention to them. Firstly I discovered Television and a rampage on animations； Secondly the craze of BMX street strolling and “almost every one has one in the backyard” private pool ； and thirdly， the avent of Star Wars and Atari games， which made visiting friends places just more fun！ The school was huge to my standard， it had everything - aircon， indoor and outdoor sport fields， a cantine， a big library and an amazing cinema venue. They would show a movie or two per week. One particular afternoon during movie session would seal my love destiny. They played “The Kite” from 1956 in which two French kids went to China. I immediately fell in love with the Chinese girl hero and would dream about her for weeks. That very fall came an event – rather a flick of a moment -that would be the tipping point of my live’s leitmotiv： I knew – one day I would marry a Chinese lady .

（It was then I also opened for the first time a large and heavy book with beautiful pictures of China that my parents had on their bookshelf.）

Switzerland， 1981 - 1988

BERN

When you are ugly you have to be fun. When you are not bright you have to be smart and clever.

During these years my father travelled a lot and most of the time wasn’t home. My mother was also kept busy most of the day. It gave me a feeling of growing like a wild grass. Some people would be more than happy with this situation– but years later I analysed that their“relaxed” presence created a lack of confidence in me. An education to manhood is essentia， especially from a father to a son. It made me very shy and had to fight twice for things in life.

For a time I was called the frog at my school but luckily I was fun and goofy– a powerful weapon not to be pushed around but be cool. And still， my brother and his band of buddies were top on the respect line – who dared to hit me， was hit double in turn.

Bern is called a bilingual city. The truth is – it’s still Swiss German. You had to make yourself respected on the way back home from school. My dad was French taught and had to fist fight his everyday at German school until he mastered his second language. Likewise I used to walk home or sometimes hop on a bus that would stop 500m from my home. That last stretch of walk seemed like a boot camp and the only way through was crossing the gardens of a private – manor like building -association for youngsters misfits. It was like a mission： first crossing the victorian style entrance， hiding behind one of the gate columns to wait and spot if the “way was free”. Then walk， never run， which was too suspicious， in the hope of not crossing the “enemy”. Once， my nightmare came true， with no way back. Mid way to my path ， the bell rang and out came the hive of my doom. One particular punk looking kid looked me up， stopped me by the shoulder and stared （my legs shacked， my fist all sweaty， ready to take a beating） with the killer question：

“Where you think you are going？” in a strong Swiss German … I posed and replied the only thing going straight in my head – “home … right up there”… “oh， yeah … sure， see ya” – he replied and let me pass safely. I learned that： Not everything is what it seems， there is always two sides to a story， learn your languages – it’s a life saver in many senses.

School， friends， brother fights， boyscouts， lake summers and mountain winters – these were the regulars of a young swiss kid. Good education， good air， and boredom … boredom？ I loved the city vivacity and hated the lonely， long lapses of time. During my parents“off” weekends they would drop us separately at my grand-parents places； my sister brother in one and me in another （in turns）.

My mothers’ parents where fervent catholics， with straight education， imposed etiquette and simply cooked food. Not ideal for a kid like me – but my grandpa had nice old toys like Russian meccanos，woode Napoleonian soldiers， stone constructions cubes and lots to do in the garden … until night arrived. On Sunday nights the happy factor would vanish and my loneliness would grow impatient： my grandpa had a lounge chair with a paper stack desk in front of a large carrel window facing up the hill - from which you could see the road afar coming down from the countryside upfront. After dinner I would sit there for hours （if necessary）； the master clock in the corridor would go forth and back， precise and everlasting “tang – tong –tang – tong” ， with a big “dong” every quarter of an hour. Desperately waiting to spot two little round headlights – the ones of my parents mini-cooper – the sure sign of them picking me up and the certainty of not being abandoned. I never felt the sorrow of the passage of time so deeply in my heart. Still now， I hate clocks.

FRANCE， 1988 - 1993

PARIS

The last few days of schools before summer came with a big surprise： my dad was to be promoted in Paris– “PARIS！” jealously screamed some girls in my class. I was listening to New Wave MTV， electronic devices were starting to pop up all over and the Wall was about to fall. In my head I was very excited – I thought Paris was like New York – and still anxious to move school again.

Paris was not New York. The city had not been changed that much by cultural revolutions. My first encounter with my new classmate made me look like a “provincial”. Most of them were“blasé” youngsters - a definition for the nonchalant and uninteresting because of frequent exposure or indulgence. A lot of them were out of post 69 remarried families and either rightist bourgeois or caviar socialists. It took me a while to“assimilate” the French culture， Moliere and Céline and at times the over intellectualised educational model.

But Paris is probably the most beautiful city in the world and a gem of architecture and culture； and for the first time my “urbanity” was satisfied and I enjoyed a good deal of my late youth. Paris is also the night rain washing away my first broken heart tears， where I day dreamed of fame and fortune Place Saint-Sulpice and among Orsay’s masterpieces and got mid night champagne dazed with friends after a home party at the foot of Louvre’s Pyramid.

Paris was always my muse， the one who whispered to me “don’t go” when I decided to wrote my most serious letter to my parents to tell them I would study here and not follow them in New York； the one who pushed me away from the famed industrial design school“Ateliers St-Sabin” and guided me that morning in the narrow street of rue Bourg Tibourg … the first day of the rest of my life， there she stood， my Chinese girl， luminous， captivating.

Never， NEVER （I was so shy） had I talked to a girl first - especially the first day and the first person to be there. I was being pulled towards her like a beam of an alien spaceship， looked straight at her and said：

“Hello， are you from China？”

從莫斯科到北京1973 夏

我出生在瑞士伯爾尼。當時正值20世紀70年代中期，冷戰正處于最緊張的時刻。那時的紐約還是一座瘋狂的城市，大銀幕上放映的是《星球大戰》，蘋果公司還在車庫里創業維艱。和大家通常所認為的瑞士人都是含著金鑰匙出生的想法不同，我的家庭背景并無亮眼之處。我的爺爺是名火車司機，我的父親則是白手起家憑著自己的辛勞自力更生。或許我是從母親這邊遺傳到了一些藝術特質。父親一輩子都在為瑞士航空公司工作，早年間還曾被派往國外擔任全球業務的管理職位。這也是為什么我會成為一名“un enfant du voyage”—“環球旅行家的兒子”。我覺得這其中最美妙的事情是，我相信1972年和1973年這兩年不僅決定了我的生日（5月1日），還極大地影響了我之后的命運。當時我的父母正在俄羅斯莫斯科任職，那時他們還曾去過北京。

加納 阿克拉1976-1980

我估計大多數孩子都不會記得自己蹣跚學步那幾年的事情；但對我來說，生活在加納那段時間的記憶栩栩如生，就好像是睡前父母講的童話故事一樣。我還記得掛在蘇黎世機場大廳里那架巨大的舊飛機，還有從機場大廳檢疫部門的窗戶望出去時霧蒙蒙的景色。檢疫窗口里巨大的針管在等著我們去接種每年所需要的各種疫苗；我還記得飛機上那些令人愉悅的時光：美味的飛機餐、當時來說十分迷人的女空乘、樂高積木和木質玩具！那時坐飛機是多么讓人高興的一件事啊，只不過飛行時間太長了。那時你還覺得世界是如此之大，等待你去探索和發現。

那時的西非是一片人間樂土，“黃金海岸”地如其名，加納人民當時還生活在一片祥和之中，與外國人的關系也相對和諧。在我的記憶里，那里聚集了大量的村莊和部落，每個地方都有自己的語言和代表顏色。我還記得我父母的朋友們有許多是跨種族婚姻，那時的世界對我來說還是個充滿友愛的地方。

在阿克拉生活的那些年非常令人難忘。我們住在一個有棟兩層小樓的大院里，那里大多是國外的外派人員，也住著一些當地的富裕階層和阿拉伯土著。院子中間有一個很大的紅土網球場和一個植被茂盛的熱帶花園，大院的后面是一個當地的村莊，父母常常告誡我們不要到那里去看熱鬧。我們常常會聽到一些駭人聽聞的傳言，比如院子里住戶養的貓變成了當地居民的盤中餐。

非洲大地充滿了各種故事、傳奇和趣聞，我試圖摘錄其中一些來講述我在這里的心路歷程，以及那些帶給我感動的瞬間。

城區

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我很少會去市中心我父親的辦公室里，但是有時候我們還是會開著那輛老掉牙的標致504到城里的露天市場逛一逛。路上從車窗往外看，你就能領略到這座城市的喧囂—到處除了人還是人。人們按部就班從事著自己日常的營生，有修車的，有賣水果的，還有屠戶、象牙商、紅木木匠、兩眼通紅的青椒販子、騎著沒有橡膠胎只剩鐵輪圈的自行車的人等。貨車成群結隊，上面載滿了貨物和人，噴著濃煙、散發著各種味道、有的甚至還少個輪子，每個車頭上方都驕傲地貼著一張跟信仰有關的標語。

夏天悶熱潮濕，正在經歷“城市化”的城區到處堆滿了紅土。在那些“寫字樓”中間夾雜著未完工的房子和腳手架，上面畫滿了手繪的廣告標語。

機場的候機樓是一座老舊的平房，在那里你經常會看到晚點的乘客在跑道上追趕自己的航班，即使航班艙門已經關閉，飛機還是會停下來，重新打開艙門，舷梯重新被拉過來，捎上晚點的乘客后才重新起跑。送客的人們會在候機樓的房頂上，和自己的乘飛機的親友揮手告別。為了躲避安檢，人們會突然從樓頂把各種紙箱子扔下來給乘飛機的親友，然后一出“老鷹捉小雞”的鬧劇就上演了：警察沖著來抓人，而抱著箱子的乘客則四散而逃……

周末

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除了每個星期天難熬的三個小時教堂禮拜時間—通常禮拜開始沒多久我就開始呼呼大睡，周末大部分時間我們都是在戶外度過的。我在5歲時喝下了人生中第一瓶啤酒，那時我一個人被留在了保齡球場里的啤酒俱樂部里，那時通常父母會把我們留在這種暗藏誘惑卻又十分舒適的地方，讓我們一覺睡到天黑。周末時到處都在舉辦泳池派對。那時我還被起了一個新的外號—灌木叢男孩—而之前人們經常會叫我“椅子上的狐猴”“沙發上的獵豹”和“地毯上的毛毛蟲”等稀奇古怪的名字。

周末還意味著享受海灘游玩的時間到了。我們會在車里塞進盡可能多的人—小孩和小狗會被打發到后備廂甚至前排座位的地板上，然后沿著長滿灌木坑洼不平的沙土路開上一個半小時去到海邊。很多人用竹子在海灘上搭了臨時的小屋。我們搭起吊床，擺上各式各樣的烤肉架、米飯沙拉和餐具，當大人們沒完沒了地玩著橋牌或者打盹時，我們小孩子們則在沙灘上盡情地挖沙子和玩尋寶游戲。非洲的海岸線充滿了野性氣息，巨大的海浪打起的水花隨著海風四處飄散，成排的椰子樹高大的軀干倒向了大海的一邊，一年又一年地承受著海浪的沖刷。

海灘

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這個區域的海灘附近有洶涌的暗流（被稱作海床刀鋒），因此漁民在把漁船靠岸時不得不大費周折，而游泳的人則都是知難而退。一天下午我哥哥和他的朋友們在海灘上玩耍，沒多久他們就遇見了“海床刀鋒”，強勁的暗流一下子就把他們沖散了，而巨大的海浪聲蓋住了他們的呼救聲。我那時在海岸上蓋沙子城堡，后來我的寵物狗Cadi開始朝著他們大聲叫了起來，在我還沒弄明白發生了什么的時候，Cadi就沖向竹子小屋向大人們求助，大人們聞訊趕來，三個強壯的成年人下水用繩子綁住落水的孩子們才將他們救了上來。這一天小狗Cadi真是立了大功，沒有它的話，我哥哥和它的朋友們很可能就會面臨溺水而亡或者成為鯊魚的獵物的悲慘命運。

動物園

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非洲是一個動物王國—要么你把它們吃掉，要么你被它們吃掉。我姐姐喜歡吃螞蟻，而紅蟻喜歡吃我們在養馬場喂它們的大塊肉塊；蛇會從洗澡間的下水道里爬出來要了人的性命，而我們家的園丁又會把蛇的腦袋砍下來，把蛇皮扒掉給我們做成爬行動物的戰利品。我個人最喜歡的地方是阿克拉的動物園：一只身材魁梧的老猩猩守在大門口，但同時又向出入的游客討要香蕉，如果你把香蕉給它吃了，它就會友好地和你握握手。我們可以隨意飼喂和撫摸幾乎所有的動物—長頸鹿的圍欄實在是太低了，它可以彎下頭來讓你抱一抱，同時把你的T恤當成食物咬上兩口。每次我們從蛇類和蜘蛛館旁邊走過的時候，就會感到全身汗毛倒立—這個館的墻壁和玻璃上有許多裂縫，讓人十分擔心里面的蛇和蜘蛛會不會跑出來。最讓人感到毛骨悚然的是鱷魚池，而你必須要經過池上的一座橋才能繼續到動物園的其他地方參觀。因此這個地方給我帶來許多噩夢，很多夜里我都在睡夢里呼喊著父母，讓他們來救我，不要讓床底下的鱷魚傷害我，而那些因為屋里的燈光不斷拍打著窗戶玻璃的果蝠則讓這些夜晚變得更加恐怖。

兄弟情義

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離我們住的美國大院不遠有一架蘇聯直升飛機的殘骸，如今這里成了孩子們玩耍的樂園，這些場所也成了我們童年最美妙的回憶。我們必須要發揮自己的創造力和探索精神，而在熱帶的烈日之下和暴風之中的時光又是如此難忘。那時候絕大多數時間我都是光著上身，我的金發搭配被烈日曬得黝黑的皮膚讓許多當地小孩頗為困惑，以至于他們一看見我就想摸一摸我的頭發。

我在家中排行老幺，那時我也體會到了和哥哥們相處的艱難。那時候我們總是一群各種年齡段的小孩混在一起瘋玩。當然年齡小的總是要背黑鍋、被欺負或者被人隨意使喚。那時候我的膝蓋每周最少都要流一次血，通常都是因為騎塑料玩具卡車或者是輪胎沒氣的三輪腳踏車在顛簸不平、樹根盤繞的道路上疾馳時摔破的。有幾次我們的保姆不得不花一個小時的時間把我們膝蓋擦破時留在里面的碎石子挑出來。

很快我哥哥就發現當他故意把我逗哭時我會變得歇斯底里。他覺得這很好笑。有一次我們在一棵巨大的桃花心木上玩耍，通常為了防止蛇或者猛禽的攻擊，我們都會隨身帶著一把小刀和一個哨子。而那時我哥哥又開始故意向我挑釁。我被激怒后開始拿著小刀向他揮去，刀子在他肚子上方把T恤劃出一道大口子，因為我們當時騎在樹枝上，他并沒有什么地方可躲，出于逃生的本能，一眨眼間他一腳就把我踢下樹去。而我不偏不倚落在了一棵仙人掌上，我的胳膊、身上和腿上扎滿了仙人掌的刺。從那以后我們再也沒有這樣鬧了。

這種“灌木叢中的生活”讓我們變得更加機警，也更善于處理各種險境。那時的我們就像羅濱孫一樣，自由且狂野。

魁北克 蒙特利爾1980-1981

這一年決定了我一生的命運。

想象一下，一個在常年35oC高溫地區生活，幾乎從不穿上衣的“灌木叢男孩”，突然一下來到冰天雪地的蒙特利爾，會是什么樣的感受！

蒙特利爾是我第一次對搬家產生了明確的意識，讓我明白了失去一些老朋友，認識一些新朋友對我來說到底意味著什么。這種狀態將會持續很多年，就像是沙灘上的城堡，你耗費心思將它搭建起來，沒過多久就又會被海浪沖刷干凈。但當你用心去觀察、去發現，好的事情總會發生。首先我發現了電視是個好東西，并開始瘋狂地觀看卡通片；然后我發現了街頭小輪車的魔力，以及每家后院都會有的私人泳池；最后就是《星球大戰》的上映和雅達利（Atari）電子游戲機的上市，讓小伙伴們相處的時間變得更加有趣！

對我來說，學校稱得上是巨大，里面什么都有，空調、室內和戶外運動場、餐廳、巨大的圖書館，以及一個很棒的電影放映廳。

每個禮拜學校會放映一到兩部電影。其中一個下午放映的電影影響了我一生的愛情觀。當時銀幕上播放的是1956年的《風箏》，這部電影講的是兩個法國小孩去中國的故事。我一下子就愛上了電影里的中國女主角，在那之后幾個星期的時間里我經常夢到這個女孩。而正是在那個秋天，發生了一件對我一生都會產生重大影響的事件—我的腦海里突然出現了一個想法，就是將來我一定要娶一個中國女孩為妻。同樣是那一年，我第一次打開父母書架上一本厚重的書，書里面有許多關于中國的美麗的照片。

瑞士 伯爾尼1981-1988

如果你長得丑的話，那你一定要風趣；如果你智商不夠高的話，那你一定要足夠機靈。

那些年我的父親經常在外出差，大部分時間都不在家，而我母親每天很多時間也都是忙忙碌碌。因此那時候我感覺自己就像是一棵自由瘋狂生長的野草。有些人可能會比較喜歡這種狀態，但是多年以后我再仔細回顧這些年月的時候，發現父母的缺席一定程度上造成了我缺乏自信的性格，尤其是父親與兒子之間關系的疏離影響更是巨大，因為父子間關于如何成為一個“男人”的教育是十分必要的。這使得我變得非常害羞，在面對生活中的難題時不得不比別人付出更多的努力。

我在學校里曾經一度被人叫作“法國佬”，但好在我還算是風趣幽默，這是消解其他同學欺凌的有力武器之一，當然我哥哥和他的一票朋友們在學校的地位很高，如果有人來欺負我的話，他們則會讓對方加倍奉還。

盡管伯爾尼被稱作是一個雙語城市，但實際上瑞士德國裔在這里還是占據了絕對的優勢地位。在從學校回家的路上，你必須要保持尊嚴，不能讓別人小瞧你。我父親的母語是法語，他在德語為主的學校每天都過得非常艱辛，直到自己完全掌握了這門語言。同樣，我要面臨相同的處境。我通常都是走路或者搭公共汽車回家，汽車站離我家還有五百米的距離，而這短短五百米的路程就像是要穿越戰區一樣讓人緊張。我必須要經過一個大宅子門口的私家花園，而這里平時經常聚集著一群看起來吊兒郎當的不良少年。每天我都要面對這項艱巨的任務：首先要穿過那座維多利亞風格的花園大門，然后藏在一根門柱的后面觀察一下前面的道路是不是“絕對安全”，然后再故作鎮定地走回去，心里期盼著千萬不要和“敵人”狹路相逢。注意，這個時候一定不能跑，不然就會顯得過于可疑了。有一次，我的噩夢還是成真了，在半路我遇到了那群小混混，這時我已經沒有回頭路，只好硬著頭皮迎接命運的挑戰。其中一個看起來非常混不吝的小孩拽住我的肩膀，兩眼死死盯著我—這時我兩腿直顫，手心出汗，做好了挨打的準備—然后用濃重的瑞士德語口音拋出了那個讓人心驚肉跳的問題：“喂！你這是去哪兒呢？”我強作鎮定，腦海里唯一的一句話脫口而出：“回家。我家就在前面不遠。”“哦，是嗎？走吧，再見。”他說完就讓我走了。這件事讓我意識到，很多事情并非表面看上去那樣，所有事情都有兩面。另外就是要學好語言，在很多情況下甚至可以是你的救命稻草。

對一個瑞士小孩來說，學校、朋友、兄弟之間的打斗、童子軍、夏日湖畔假期和冬天的雪山是生活中的常規配置。雖然享受著良好的教育和清新的空氣，但是我還是感覺無聊。因為我已經習慣了熱鬧的城市生活，這樣孤獨漫長的時間實在是難以忍受。周末時如果父母不在身邊，他們會把我們分別放在祖父母家，通常會輪流把我放在一個地方，把我哥哥和姐姐放在另外一個地方。

我的父母是虔誠的天主教徒，受過良好的教育，強調生活中的禮節，平時家里的飯菜也很簡單。對一個小孩子來說，這些沒什么值得高興的。好在我的祖父家里有些很棒的舊玩具，比如蘇聯的金屬模型、木頭做的拿破侖士兵、石頭積木等，更別說花園里還有更多有意思的事情可以做了。到了星期天晚上，高興的時光結束了，那種令人難以忍受的孤獨感重新襲來。祖父有一張躺椅和一張堆滿書的小桌子一起放在小閱覽室里。閱覽室寬大的窗戶對著大山，通往城市的道路從山上延伸而來，在這里一覽無余。如果父母沒有來接我的話，晚飯后我就幾個小時地坐在這里；走廊里的大鐘表不疾不徐，不停重復著鐘擺“嘀—嗒—嘀—嗒”的聲音，每過十五分鐘就會“咚”的一聲報一次時。我就坐在那里，焦急地期待著看到兩個圓圓的車大燈的出現—那是我父母那輛Mini Cooper的車燈，看到這兩個燈就知道他們回來接我了，沒有把我一個人扔在這里。時間的流逝從未讓我感到如此傷感和沉重。直到現在，我依然對鐘表心懷厭惡。

巴黎

1988-1993

暑假前的最后幾天傳來了一個讓人驚喜的消息：我的父親要升遷去巴黎任職了！“巴！黎！”我們班上的幾個女孩子聽到后羨慕地大聲喊起來。當時我正在收聽New Wave MTV，那個時候電子設備剛剛開始流行起來，柏林墻也即將被推倒。我內心深處其實是非常興奮的，當時我以為巴黎跟紐約是差不多的，但是我又對需要再次轉學有一些焦慮。

然而事實證明，巴黎并不是紐約，文化革命并沒有太多地影響或者改造這座城市。第一次跟新同學見面時，我顯得非常“老土”。他們大多是一些“見怪不怪”的年輕人—或許是由于過早接觸社會，或許是因為任性，他們對待世界的態度相當冷漠。許多人的父母是69年文化運動之后重新組建的家庭，還有些是右翼資產階級或精英社會主義分子。我花了很長時間才“融入”這種法國文化，開始了解文學、時尚以及過度精英化的教育模式。

但是巴黎算得上是世界上最美麗的城市，一塊建筑與文化的瑰寶。在這里，我對城市生活的渴望才第一次得到滿足，在我青春期的尾聲，我非常享受這里的時光。巴黎的夜雨也沖刷掉了我第一次心碎時的淚滴。白天我在圣敘爾比斯廣場和奧爾賽博物館的杰作中間幻想著名望與財富，夜里在午夜香檳派對之后，和朋友們在盧浮宮金字塔雕塑腳下迷離徜徉。

巴黎一直是給我靈感的繆斯，當我決定寫一封最嚴肅的信，告訴我的父母我將留在這里學習，不會跟隨他們前往紐約時，是她在我耳邊細語：“不要走。”是她帶我走出了久負盛名的工業設計學院Ateliers St-Sabin，又帶我走進了狹窄的Bourg Tibourg街巷，在那里我的人生有了全新的開始。走進這條小巷時，前面站著將要改變我一生的中國女孩，神采奕奕，一下子就將我完全俘獲。

在此之前，我從未，從未主動和女孩搭訕過，尤其是全新的一天中你第一次遇見的一個女孩。然而她身上有著一種魔力，就好像是外星飛船射下來那道光束一樣，把我吸引到她的身邊。

我鼓起勇氣，直視著她的雙眼，問道：“請問你是中國來的嗎？”