顺序搞错了

昨晚在家给自己倒了一杯红酒，在音响里放一张CD，开始熨衣服，感觉很惬意。过了一会突然觉得有点不大对劲----这种20岁的时候应该有的轻松的单身生活我到快40岁突然开始享受起来，而20多岁的时候却是每天下班准时乘班车回家做饭陪老婆---- 显然是把顺序搞错了。居然还可以惬意起来，惬意当中也难说没有一点自嘲的。恐怕能最好地解释这种心理因素的莫过于刘若英上一张专辑的题目《我的失败与伟大》。

另外一个跟刘若英有关的话题：怎么就没有人想起写一部不同年龄段男人的故事呢？鉴于当前把顺序搞错的人不在少数，题目倒是也不妨换成《40、30、20》。

还是跟刘若英有关的话题：我不用自怨自艾的唱《一辈子的孤单》----因为我喜欢的人和喜欢我的人都出现了，而且她们还碰巧是一个人

香港“一日游”及新书斩获

比起8月的芬兰一日游，这次在香港待一天已经是很奢侈的事情了。

一早从深圳的酒店出发，象打仗一样过关、赶车、换车、疾走，终于在9：30赶到世贸中心。10：30会议结束，跳上一辆出租车赶往位于红墈的酒店。酒店是找到了，房间却还没有好。Check in，留下行李，出发前往旺角。

后来跟S说是去书店的路上路过Sasa才先去给她买的化妆品，其实是逗她了。地铁站的出口正对的就是樂文，不过还是先去了下一个街区的Sasa，结果只买到了购物清单的五分之三，又向前走了两条街还有另外一个Sasa的店面，结果也是一样。这才死心，回到樂文。

这次并没有太多的惊喜，计购得下列几本书：

《风中的费洛蒙》，陈升，圆神出版社，2004年7月
阿升的书很有意思，读起来象意识流小说，摄影作品又全部出于傻瓜相机－－“天生就很迷人的天蝎座”。

《吃一碗文化》、《再吃一碗文化》，薛兴国，明窗出版社，2002年7月，2003年6月
近年来对谈吃的书大感兴趣，但是绝不买菜谱－－因为买了也是白买。不能跟小美那样－－那可是香港带回来的菜谱啊！不知道什么时候才能吃上她烤的蛋糕

下午看完市场回到太古城，发现大厅里在开小型的书展，自然不能放过，何况还有打折。逛了半个小时，收获如下：

《沧桑百感》，刘再复，天地图书，2004年
这是他的漂流手记的第八本。对于我们，刘再复、李泽厚代表了我们的那个年代。

《慢慢微笑》，毛尖，天地图书，2004年
她的那本电影笔记感觉尚好，董桥也对她有颇高的评价，但是也并没有感觉一定就要买这一本－－如果没有那一篇“夜访罗大佑”

The Roaring Nineties, Joseph Stiglitz, Penguin Books, 2003
打折之后相当于7镑钱，还是值得的。这位老兄退位之后的一些言论颇为诡异。

《粤语（香港话）教程》，郑定欧、张励妍、高石英编著，三联书店（香港），2003年10月
下午跟某经销商聊天的时候感觉不能讲广东话实在是别扭，所以，开始认真学，何况这本书还有一张MP3呢？^_^

晚上跟007老师去喝酒，居然发现湾仔洛克道上一条街的酒吧里，我们能进的居然只有一家

午夜之后回到酒店，房间终于已经准备好了，倒头便睡，Zzzzzzzzzzzz

我们永远对他心怀感激

熬夜看了大佑在长沙金鹰艺术节上的亮相，惊奇的发现自己居然又被他感动！他只唱了四首歌，包括我至爱的《光阴的故事》和《你的样子》，还有我不甚喜的《恋曲1990》和我甚不喜的《东方之珠》，可是看着他滑稽的舞步听着他偶尔出错的歌词，忽然鼻子有一点点酸：眼前这个50岁的“老男人”用他的音乐让我们并不灿烂的青春岁月有了些许值得记忆的一面，所以我们没有权力责怪他偶尔略嫌偏激的言语，没有权力埋怨他出唱片太慢，没有权力指责他在不入流的晚会和庆典上亮相：我们对他所有的感情只应该是感激！

大佑，我们永远热爱你！

土耳其政府的必读书

英国病人 @ 2004-09-19 16:06

还记得几年前参加公司的培训，那个做我mentor的中年英国女人在得知我现在基本只看non- fiction以后对我说：这是一个人grown up的标志。英国人总是shoot for understatement，所以我理解她真正的意思是：you are old. 当时在心里说：”Thank you for the reminder. I know I'm old.”

这些年看过的fiction的东西确实屈指可数，除了偶尔上网一目十行一下流行的小说之外，比如《成都》、《一支烟》什么的，纸书也就是看过Kundera和David Lodge的新作品，甚至偶尔翻一下George Orwell也是看他的Essays。

上次在伦敦逛Books etc.的时候从“3 for 2”里面挑了三本non-fiction，最先拿起来读的就是Bill Bryson的这本”A Short History of Nearly Everything”



一是因为很喜欢作者的风格，把旅行书也写的那么有趣，这点上能跟他比的也就是Michael Palin了；二是自从看了爱因斯坦的那本”The Evolution of Physics”之后就对科学史的东西走火入魔。

可以说这是作者三年来学习科学知识的一个总结，虽然内容上不会有创新（他又不是任何学科前沿的科学家）不过他的那种幽默的风格依然随处可见，比如他在计算一个枕头里面会有多少微生物之后还要加一句：幸亏这还是你自己的枕头，想想酒店里的枕头会怎么样？看来作者以后是不打算再写旅游书了。

另一段让我差一点喷饭的是关于祖先数量的计算：现在的任何一个人向上推64代，也就是到罗马人的时代，从数学上算起来需要的祖先应该有one million trillion，是地球上曾经生活过的总人口的数千倍。本来指出计算“错误”在于人类繁衍的过程中存在大量inbreeding就可以了（可能最有名的就是鼎鼎大名的达尔文娶了自己的表妹），Bryson却非要将问题社会学化：我们的祖上有很多“乱伦”现象存在，所以如果有个人骄傲地对你声称：“我是征服者威廉的第xx代嫡亲。”你也可以很高兴地回答：“Me too.”原来如彼：本以为乱伦是某些个别人的性变态行为，这才意识到原来更科学的分类应该是“返祖现象”，跟毛孩算一类。

从奥斯陆回赫尔辛基的飞机上随手翻当天的Financial Times，看到几条有意思的消息：第一条：希腊新政府发现前任左翼政府在奥运会的支出上“帐外有帐”，导致希腊今年的财政赤字几乎要达到欧元区规定的 3%的两倍――不奇怪啊，甚至可以说希腊人简直是少见多怪，等着看北京的。第二条：《英雄》连续第二周排行北美票房第一――不奇怪啊，我对美国人的傻是从来不会吃惊的。倒是张艺谋接受”New York Times”采访时声称：在拍电影的时候脑子里就是一半想着中国观众一半想着西方观众，这倒让我觉着奇怪了：应该坚持说我就是拍的中国电影，西方观众是被我纯中国的东西打动的，那多酷啊。第三条：土耳其执政政府准备提请议会立法给通奸定罪，欧盟随即威胁如果此提议得以通过的话将影响土耳其加入欧盟的进程。不奇怪啊，土耳其毕竟是伊斯兰占主导的国家嘛，只是提议案的不明白，如果乱伦都是我们祖先乐此不疲的运动，通奸岂不是小菜一碟？

第二天的Financial Times跟踪报道：土耳其政府坚持声称：给通奸定罪不是出于宗教的原因，而是为了保护妇女的利益。

第三天的情况发生了变化：土耳其政府让步了，准备放弃这项议案，原因是国内反对党议员的阻力和欧盟的压力――原来是不得已而为之还不是心服口服。我是不是应该做件好事，明儿就把我手上这本书寄给土耳其总理，还要标出重点段落。

==================

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是巧合呢，还是冥冥中给我的提醒？

今天下午懒在沙发上，不想看书，于是翻出几个星期前买的一打DVD，一眼就看到了这张”One Day in September”。



片子几乎放完的时候突然意识到：天哪！那场惨剧居然是发生在32年前的今天！有多少人还记得？

说是结论听起来有点荒唐，不过看片子的时候确实想到：第一，正如这位至今唯一存活下来的巴勒斯坦枪手所说，能去执行这个任务至少比一辈子在难民营混着强。积郁在心中的不满或愤怒总要有表达的渠道，否则它会以某种极端的方式发泄出来，轻的是往球场里面扔矿泉水瓶子，重的就可能是去枪杀对方的运动员或者劫持飞机去撞对方的大楼。前些日子写给The Economist编辑的信也是这个意思：

Sir,

Your attempt in the article on the Asian Cup Final between China and Japan ("Grudge match" Aug 12th 2004) failed to shoot on target, narrowly.

You correctly pointed out that "Nationalism runs high in China, and anti-Japanese sentiment runs even higher", and this stems from "Japan's utter failure to face up to its guilty history.” However, this is equally, if not more, to do with the Chinese authorities' and state-run media' failure to adopt harsh enough stance, not otherwise as you stated in your article, against the Japanese, as well as the failure to provide alternative outlets of this sentiment by banning all civil petitions or demonstrations, resulting in it being pent up, and the fever pitch became almost the only channel for the ordinary Chinese to voice their frustration and discontent. Therefore this "mob ugliness" is less similar to the hooliganism mastered so well by some of the England football supporters on so many occasions than to the mass demonstrations across Czechoslovakia in March 1969 after their ice-hockey team defeated the Soviets, minus the vandalism though—you rightly noticed that the violence was not worse. No Toyotas or Nissans were smashed, as would have happened to the BMWs or VWs had the England football team lost to Germany.

On a separate note: China's capability to stage the Olympics peacefully should never be doubted as all the state apparatus will be in full motion to make sure that any disagreeable voices would be muted and any disagreeable people would be removed and locked away from the proximity of any public exposure long before the first whistle is blown . However, China's credential of hosting such an event has never been questioned enough by the international communities, not on the grounds of its lack of capability to make it a happy gathering, but on the grounds of its overwhelming power to do so.

结论之二，三十年来通讯技术特别是移动通信的突飞猛进使得劫持和解救都变得更困难更复杂，在无良的媒体眼中也就更刺激了。

结论之三，The so-called German efficiency is just a myth. The Royal SAS, or even the US Marine Corps would have done a much better job had they been involved.

My Portugal Diary (Final)

Day 8 Tuesday 22 June 2004

What happened last night still feels surreal.

Started to move into the ground at 6:30, but didn't manage to get to my seat at around 7:15 going through a series of security checks. There were even a team of mounting police outside the stadium, well equipped and prepared. There was a clock counting down to the kick-off. Cheering was always reverberating in the stadium when the England players were warming up. The stands were quickly filled up, am afraid 70-80% were taken by fans in England jerseys in red or white. Cheering was especially loud when Rooney and Gerard were introduced, while the names of the Croatian players were made completely inaudible by the whistles and boos. Then the big chorus of "God Save the Queen", followed by the Croatian national anthem submerged in the jeers—something similar to what happened when England were playing Turkey in the qualification stage, then there were the abuses of England's black players by the Turks. Hope things are not going as bad today.

The start couldn't have been worse for England. I had a sinister feeling before the kick-off that England might concede an early goal. And that's exactly what happened. The defence on set pieces has always been fragile. The score line read 1:0 to Croatia already in the 5th minute. I was saying the same prayer as I did the day I landed in Portugal: ENGLAND, HERE I AM, COMING ALL THE WAY FOR YOU. DON'T LET ME DOWN!

It seemed the prayer was being heard and answered immediately, it was all England. After 40 minutes of anxiety, Paul Scholes headed England level. After Nuno Gomez settled the scores for Portugal the previous night, I was predicting that it would be an international veteran to rise to the occasion, and for England it would be Owen or Scholes. Then there came that feeling of unreality, first striking me when the whole stadium was on its feet for the goal. For a split of a second, I felt I was flying high. Just probably, drugs could give the same effect? Even before the stadium sat down on its seat, Rooney the wonder boy scored another wonder goal! The legend simply continues! Half time: England 2:1 Croatia.

Got a text message from a friend in Beijing:”你坐在什么地方？看来不裸奔是看不见你了” I texted him back:”坐在英格兰角旗边上，裸奔不大容易，因为在上台，估计还没奔下去就已经被按住了”

The second half started with England continuing the dominance. Then Rooney scored again! England were cruising, running wild. With about 20 minutes left, Rooney was substituted to a standing ovation. But, almost immediately, Croatia pulled one back from yet another sucker free kick. That sickening feeling creeping secretly back: would we repeat that tragic finale of one week ago? The doubt was dispelled though when the impressive Frank Lampard struck a sweet goal to settle all nerves. England are through, 4:2! The same score as England won the World Cup 38 years ago…..

Never had I expected to live through such a sensational game. When England were trailing by one goal, my prediction, or hope, was that we could get back on level before half time, then score a winning goal in the second half.

Crowds were lingering in the stadium, crowds were gathering outside the stadium. Fans were chanting Rooney’s name in front of television cameras. Suddenly a familiar figure came out of the crowd: Andrew Gilligan, carrying the same rocksack (maybe). Taking out his notebook, he started to interview a group of fans sitting on the road curb. Struck a brief chat and asked for an autograph from him before he walked away, this seemed to have surprised him.

What was so lovely was that the fans from both camps mingled merrily together, both on the tube and later in the city centre.

Suddenly, for no reasons at all, I had a feeling of anticlimax. Could it simply be the fact that the emotions, expectations, anxieties and excitements have been built so high in the past few days, and then they are released in such an emphatic manner, and left in me only void? Anyway, did join the crowds in Rossio for a beer, than came back to the youth hostel before 1:00.

Had a very good sleep, woke up at 10:00 this morning. As soon as the phone was switched on a couple of business related messages came in, reminding me there is a real world outside football. Then a long discussion on business issues over my brunch with two colleagues in the office was only strengthening that message.

Couldn't manage to get a direct flight back to London, had to go via Milan. The flight took off at 15:05. I'm now wrapping up this diary on the plane. For me, the trip to Euro 2004 is over. I'm back to reality, and back to my armchair supporter status.

But England are marching on. That is a fantastic feeling!



（全文完）

My Portugal Diary: Day 7

Day 7 Monday 21 June, 2004

D-Day!

Felt terribly weak when waking up, sweating all over. Suddenly realised that I had been too busy celebrating with the locals last night to eat any food! And the beer didn't help. Pulled myself out of bed, and dragged the "dead" body to the nearest coffee shop. A banana settled me slightly, but even after a sausage roll, a croissant, a yogurt, half a melon, and two cups of coffee, I still didn't feel full. Oh, God, too old to be flexible with diet any more!

Finally settled with a bowl of fruit salad and a third cup of coffee. Could finish yesterday's diary and recorded the stormy start of the day. The sun is as bright as any other day.

Went down to Rossio. Was planning to do some shopping, but was amazed to find the whole square was already draped in St. George's flags with all kinds of clubs' and individuals' names painted on them. Shame couldn't find a LFC flag. Only on one flag by a couple can one find a Liver bird—took a picture in front of it. A huge St. George's sponsored by Nationwide was spread on the square with three giant words on it: Pride. Passion. Belief. Countless people have signed on it with encouragements or good wishes. I could barely find a space to write anything, but did manage at the end to scribble: "England All The Way!" Texted Roger: "It looks like we not only have won the game, but have taken over the whole country."

Had a fabulous lunch in the restaurant next to the youth hostel, and finished a bottle of vinho verde. Feeling great, just the right mood to go to the pitch



葡萄牙人比法国人还过分：3：00多到餐厅的时候还有很多穿西服的人在吃午饭，而且每个人面前都有酒。估计下午都不用工作了，和我一样也是为晚上的比赛酝酿情绪的吧

Got to the Estadio da Luz (Stadium of the Light) by the tube 3 hours in advance, only to find the surrounding area was already packed by fans in all kinds of costumes, the English fans vastly outnumbering the Croats. The England supporters have the capability of converting every pitch into a home ground!

The nearby shopping mall is housing tens of thousands of England fans, with beer flowing at sky high. Provided no window is smashed, the shop owners must be dreaming of a European Championship every month, with every game involving the English

Are you ready? Come On, England!

My Portugal Diary: Day 6

英国病人 @ 2004-07-26 16:06

Day 6 Sunday 20 June, 2004

Went back to Praca Figueira to have a sunshine breakfast. Loved the whole setting of the square, and the Castello is the backdrop. A group of local people are practising Judo with Japanese music at the background. However, very soon the music was overwhelmed by the cheering Spanish fans all over the place—I’m afraid the cheering never stopped since last night! The Spanish staged a huge “celebration” at the nearby Rossio, cheering, chanting, drums were beaten, flags were flying. Texted Roger: “You might think they have won the game already, but the game actually is nine hours away.”

Had thought about going for some more beach and sunshine before coming back for the match. However the atmosphere in Lisbon was simply fantastic. So I just hopped on the coach for Setubal to collect my luggage and got back to Lisbon on the first possible coach, where I was seated in the middle of a group of Croatian fans. Luckily I was still in my plain T-shirt

Changed into my Liverpool kit for the night. A Spanish fan staying at the same dorm was borrowing some toothpaste, then whispered to me: the colour red you are wearing stands for Spain tonight. I didn’t agree though. But, as was texted a friend, “I hope the Portuguese don’t take it that way.” Quite often there are cars or buses roaring past, with Spanish flags flying from the windows and Spanish fans cheering from inside. Seems the city is occupied, yet another time, after so many centuries

Two Hours Later:

1:0! Nuno Gomes settled the score. The Spanish struck the woodwork twice after that, but that was it. Portugal go on, Spain are out. Winning the “local” derby has given the Portuguese some special pleasure. Seconds after the final whistle the city went crazy! All those Spanish flags seemed to have been packed and gone by a whisk. I only saw two Spanish fans on Rossio, draped in the national flags, looking forlorn.

Interestingly, the loudest groups on the square were the English! Hope they can do the same tomorrow night! And I’ll join!

My Portugal Diary: Day 5

Day 5 Saturday 19 June, 2004

Almost immediately after I decided to go to the beach at Costa da Capparica did I notice that it turned a bit overcast. This could be the only chance for me to get some tan! The sun has been strong in the last two days, just walking in the town yesterday already give me a bit bronzage. Don't tell me the sun would shy away when I really want to be bathed in it.

Started the day with an uphill stroll to the Castello de Sao Phillipe, which is now converted to a "pousada" (I think it should mean bar + restaurant). The hotel receptionist warned me that it wouldn't be too easy to walk up there. It was a bit breath consuming, but I managed ok. Almost felt that I'm back to my walking best, the form I obviously lost after moving back to Beijing. Isn't life too comfortable in Beijing that I'm not motivated at all to walk long distance?

Got to the bus station just in time to miss the bus to Cacillas, where I should change for another bus for the beaches. The next bus is 1h30 later! Brilliant! Now I'll just have to sit in the cafe next to the bus station, doing some reading maybe, after finishing this paragraph.

Now, after reading the LP for about an hour, I suddenly feel a sense of anxiety creeping into my heart. Have I wasted too much time wandering around without seeing what I "should" see? Counting the days left, do I still have time to see and feel what I "should" see and feel? Or, maybe I should have saved those two days in London for Portugal instead? I'm truly a very very bad planner—what an irony on the job I'm paid for! However, as a consolation at least, I say to myself: I came for the football, and anything else I experienced on the way, seen, felt, eaten, whatever, would be a bonus. I made a rule to myself before the trip: I'll not do any museums or galleries this time, because: 1) I'm not an artist, and shall never make one given my quality, or the lack of it rather; 2) my artistic education is already better than the average; 3) what I really enjoy are good books, good music, good films, good food, good beer and wine, none of which can be got from the museums.

6 Hours Later:

Got to the beach after all, could be any beach though. It is said to be 8 miles long, think I covered about half on foot, in addition to sleeping for about an hour on the "family" section. The gay section and nudist section are pretty much mingled, or so I noticed. Was in my swimming trunk when walking past the nudist section, the "inhabitants" didn't seem to be offended since I didn't get any cat calls. Meanwhile there were also other clothed sun-bathers. So I kept my last piece of cloth on. But the real, utmost, fundamental, critical reason for my "prudence" is that, amongst all the nudists on the beach, none can be remotely associated with the image of sexy girl—graceful granny is nearer to reality. So there is no point for me to "sacrifice" my only differentiator and to be viewed as "one of them"

When coming back to Lisbon and settling down at the youth hostel booked yesterday, I was amazed to find there was a shower IN the dorm! Too much of a luxury really!

Had a bit of difficulty in finding a screen nearby. Caught a couple of minutes of the first half after sitting down in a bar. Holland were leading Czech Republic 2:1 at half time. I'm pretty neutral towards these two countries, but the choice is obvious between Baros and Smicer on one side and van Nistelrooy on the other. Then Czech Republic staged a fantastic comeback in the second half and beat the Dutch by 3:2! And Baros was awesome, scoring a goal that would grace any match, plus Smicer also got himself on the scoreline. Hope Baros' form can continue next season when puts on the red shirt playing for Liverpool. Out of excitement, I decided to explore Lisbon's nightlife one day earlier than planned: I reserved it for tomorrow originally. Found a great bar up at the hill, which, invariably, was swamped by the English fans, who mingled merrily with the small group of Croats.

On the way back, I came across a street gathering of the Spanish fans in Praca Rossio. The Iberian derby has begun.

My Portugal Diary: Day 4

Day 4 Friday 18 June, 2004

Started the day with a breakfast in the sun near Praca Rossio. Then walked Lisbon s little bit, as a by-product of my journey in search of the youth hostel. It turned out to be full until the 22nd, which made me suspect the majority of the residents are England supporters, all coming for THAT match. Was recommended to another hostel nearby, which looked better equipped, and, invariably, slightly more expensive. Booked myself in for 3 nights starting from tomorrow. Croatia supporters start to appear in the streets.

Before that, I will explore some other places of the country. I hit the road at 3:30 in the afternoon for Setubal. On the bridge over the Rio Tejo, a giant Jesus Christ statue is opening his arms to all the mankind. It is written in the LP that the statue was an imitation of the giant Jesus in Rio da Janeiro, and partially financed by the Women's Association in gratitude for the government sparing them the horrors of the Second World War! 女人要的其实很简单！

An hour later I was in the centre of Setubal, a weekend retreat for the Lisbonaises. A lovely town. Dropped my big bag in the youth centre (affiliated to the youth hostel, where the booking would only start after 6:00) and was directed to a bar nearby with a relatively big television. I was the only non-local, and the least old. The other customers must all be pensioners already, apart from one beggar, who, it looks to me, is equally old, but supposedly with no pension. They were playing all sorts of games ranging from chess to a four way game similar to 麻将 and a board game more like 大富豪, only no one actually cared about the game on the screen. Bulgaria were never in the game. Denmark scored a goal they more than deserved in the last minute of the first half. Then the bar was closed!

Back to the youth hostel. Same old story: fully booked by the English fans! Was recommended to another place, but decided to come into this roadside hotel which looked luxurious but turned out not too expensive.

Having settled down, followed the second half of the game in the hotel bar. Denmark scored the second, again, almost in the last minute.

Came out for some food, and passed a restaurant I simply couldn't resist—to quote Oscar Wilde: I could resist everything except temptation. LP says Setubal is famous for the fish and dolphin, but the latter should not end up on your plate as the majority of the locals may not have Cantonese cousins. Grilled fish, potatoes, and local beer made a fantastic dinner. A couple of funny pics were taken. For a while I was the only customer of the restaurant, now it is packed. I'm writing this journal over a cup of espresso. A group of locals are sitting next to me, and we exchanged some funny words on football and life, and I enlightened one of them, the most vocal opponent to football, on Shankly's famous quote: "Football is not just a matter of life and death: it's much more important than that. " How much more powerful it could get if I could only speak that out in a Scottish accent!

Should be on my way to the local park, where a giant screen is set up for the fans and cheap beer is served. Hope Italy will go out.

Two hours later, 10:00pm:

Well, Italy didn't lose, but they can still go out

My Portugal Diary: Day 3

英国病人 @ 2004-07-26 16:01

Day 3 Thursday 17 June, 2004

Journey to Portugal starts. Realising that I know almost nothing about the country, I bought a copy of Lonely Planet's "Portugal" before boarding TP353 for Lisbon. Recalling in Chaplin's "Autobiography" the caption under a photo says (roughly): every morning I come to the sight having no idea what to shoot today. I'm getting more and more artistic.

The flight was delayed by (only) half an hour (more like the Latins), which means I'm not too sure any more if I can make it to Coimbra to watch the Switzerland game on the big screen outside the stadium, and hopefully to celebrate with the fans there. It could take me more than two hours to get to the town from Lisbon's main railway station. Better off probably just pop into a pub and watch the game on the telly. Before closing this diary for landing, I'm whispering in my heart to whoever is up there listening to me: ENGLAND, HERE I AM, COMING ALL THE WAY FOR YOU. DON'T LET ME DOWN!

4 Hours Later, 7:00pm

I'm sitting in a bar in the centre of Lisbon, enjoying my dinner.

Realised I'm in Portugal as soon as I stepped out of the airport. Fewer cars are flying flags, and on top of those who do, the St. George's have given way to the Portuguese red and green. Found the Residencial booked at the Tourist Information at the airport. The room is ultra-small but brisk-clean. The landlady couldn't really understand English, but by accident I found that she speaks perfect French, which became our language of communication and put me to a very disadvantaged position. However, I suppose anything other than Spanish would endear me to the locals. Had some difficulty in finding a pub to watch the game though. Spotted a chap wearing an England kit in the street, and was directed to a bar where a big screen was set up. Not too crowded inside. A pint of local beer kicked off the game for me. England started so nervously. Then, a star was born! How I hate to admit that he's from Everton! Well, at least Michael Owen was the provider of the last pass—Merseyside connection after all. Second half was started in the same nervous, nail-biting fashion, and nail-biting was literally what I did. Then Wayne again! The nerve was settled, and I could even afford the leisure of exchanging text messages with my friend back in China, teasing her to come over here to carry me back to the hotel if I went over board by drinking too much beer. Then Stevie got this redemption by scoring the third. That was it! 3:0! England are back on track!

Very fast the streets are swamped by singing England supporters—luckily I am not wearing my England kit. Sitting next to me in this bar, which, ironically, is called Suica, are a group of young lads and a father and a son, all wearing the Three Lions. A chap wearing Switzerland jersey passed in front us, and was inevitably taunted by the sneers, but he responded in good manner by squaring his shoulders and giving a wry smile

Decided to come back to my hotel to get some of the second match. France equalised by a hand-ball unspotted by the referee, and then almost fluffed it at the dying seconds. What an irony that would have made! Anyway, we have to beat the Croats at the cracker on the 21st, the game I come for.

Before that, though, I have to find a place to sleep tomorrow night.

My Portugal Diary: Day 2

英国病人 @ 2004-07-26 15:58

Day 2 Wednesday 16 June, 2004

Woke up around 5:00 local time, and it was already bright sunshine outside. Had suspected it would get too hot for me to fall asleep last night, but it turned to be very pleasant.

Started working on my .xls files after a simple breakfast, same pattern as my holidays in London last autumn—well, maybe slightly better: I had a couple of teleconfs with the office last time.

Done the work around 10:00, called the office in Southwood, then started out to prepare for the Portugal trip, i.e. buying an England jersey. Oxford St. is as busy as any time, and it’s just a Wednesday morning! Unbelievable. Seems quite a few sports gears have cut the price. Struggling a bit with buying the red or the white—too many choices make life hard in a perverse way, same problem with democracy maybe (the communists should borrow this argument). Decided to go the white top, as my Liverpool kit is red enough already.

Having visited my bank, I’m now sitting in a Caffe Nero in Holborn, the part of London I’m most familiar with. Looking out of the window, a lot of cars in the street are flying the St. George’s flag. “Football is coming home”. Hope by the time I’m back here next week, St. George’s are still flying.

Buried a panini, am now sipping an espresso writing my journal. What a familiar scene: the winter of 2001 I was sipping an espresso in the Quartier Latin, writing postcard to my friend, telling her that I could only taste bitterness. By then I was even once crying over a passage in “The Razor’s Edge”, now I can read Russell’s “Autobiography” in complete peacefulness. 有个成语叫“白驹过隙”吧。

Coffee is gone now, time to head back to the hotel and need to go to the office in a while. Hate the invasion of work on holidays but seems I can never avoid it. Just dreamed one day I could have holidays as long as I like wherever I love, and don’t have to work at all. Oh, just a second, how do I pay for the holidays?

Later Tonight:

Back from watching the Russia vs. Portugal match with Roger in a pub near Westminster. Ran into a couple of Roger’s old colleagues from the Home Office, who he confided me are more often drunk than sober. No wonder the Home Office isn’t best known for its efficiency. The Russians were done tremendous injustice by having the ‘keeper sent off for a non-existent hand-ball out of the area. The pundits at Sky Sports branded this as “a shocking decision”. 2:0 to Portugal.

A separate football story but more important, to me at least: a press conference was called early today at Anfield to unveil Rafael Benitez. He may not have come from the boot room, but I do hope he can start another Shankly Era.

My Portugal Diary: Day 1

Day 1 Tuesday 15 June, 2004

This got to be my worst prepared trip ever: didn’t get the tickets between London and Lisbon until last night, and at the end of the day I’ll have to go to Milan on my way back to London. No packing was done until the first match was already over. Didn’t miss too much football though, Italy were so boring, while the Denmark strikers were not inspirational enough to beat the determined Buffon.

Flight was to leave Beijing at 11:25, and I didn’t pull myself out of bed until 9:00. Things were moving smoothly afterwards: the cab arrived just in time; check-in was done in a split of a second, and even got an emergency exit seat; ran into a couple of colleagues going to Finland on business at the airport lounge. Even managed to do some last minute shopping at the airport: cigarettes for Anyal..

Caught a film “Mystic River” on the in-flight entertainment. Sean Penn was absolutely first-class. But I’ve always liked Kevin Bacon, no idea why he wasn’t rated as high.

还看了一个中文电影，因为错过了开头，直到第二轮开始才搞清楚名字：《爱，断了线》。电影本身乏善可陈，倒是一句台词差点将我一击致命：身处80年代初的梁咏琪问身处2002年的小帅哥：“你们那个年代的人还相信爱情么？”

Continuing with Russell’s “Autobiography”, the chapter on his visits to China and Japan. People as intelligent as Russell could also be easily cheated by what is displayed there on the surface, “mystic” Chinese.

Landed at LHR around 15:30 BST, and got to my hotel nearly 17:00. Decided to stay at the same hotel near Bayswater when I was spending the holidays last September, easy choice. The facade remains the same, the rooms don’t change, and even the girl at the reception was the same girl. It is the man who comes back that has changed. 所谓“物是人非”也。

Czech Republic conceded a sloppy goal almost at the stroke of half time. Disappointed. Left for Anyal’s place. Took me more than an hour to get there.. My greetings came in the form of a question: what’s the score? Brilliant! 2:1 to Czech Republic. Better still is Baros opened the account for the Czechs. He should play a bigger role at Liverpool next season, when our new manager is on board. Hugged Anyal only after I learned that the score went my way. Bastard!

Holland and Germany played some dull football when Anyal was cooking. Van Nistelrooy scored a late equaliser. Tomomi changed into a Davids’ Juve jersey, only to find that he was substituted before the restart

The food was great, which made me think that, whoever is going to marry Anyal in the future must have a huge and well equipped kitchen ready even before phrasing the proposal

Hugged her one more time before departing, on behalf of another friend, who text me the previous night:“若见着安雅，代我抱抱，离家那么远。”

海上遇蛙记

英国病人 @ 2004-05-06 17:39



5月3日傍晚与S在上海某餐厅吃晚饭，忽然记起青蛙老师曾说五一期间要到上海，当即拨打其手机。蛙老师在搞清来电话人的身份以后告诉我们要第二天才到，此行的目的是来听爵士乐，而且一听就是两场。羡煞我等！当时约好第二天下午他抵沪之后联系。

至次日午后三时许，突感我的手机振动起来，拿出来一看正是蛙老师来电。简短商量之后决定晚上爵士乐演出结束后一起去喝酒。挂断电话才发现此前已经miss 了两个call，全部是蛙老师打来的。事后才知道当时我在拥挤的地铁里，没有感觉到振动；而蛙老师在两次致电无人应答之后不得已向晴兜兜求救，得到确认此号码无误之后再次拨打方擒得本学生。

为了节省晚间选择场所的时间，晚饭后即与S挨家挨户考察茂名南路的酒吧，蓦然发现瑞金宾馆隔壁竟然有一家酒吧名为“蓝蛙”，洋名叫做bluefrog，实在是颇合今晚会面的主题。加之这里虽然人气很旺却绝非活色生香之所在――就是它了！

差几分钟10点的时候正和S在街头闲逛，接蛙老师电话，没想到演出竟然这么早结束。互通了一下信息，发现彼此相距不过一个街区，于是约好在一标志性建筑 ――脚手架――前面会合。此前S从未拜见过蛙老师，在等候的时候她提议要由她自己来辨认，就向前走了十来米的距离。结果直到我已与青蛙攀谈了半分钟之后她还兀自在街头东张西望。原来蛙老师是与五六同好一起过来，而她只注意独行男子，自然缪也。好在还没有被不良路人误会

一同回到蓝蛙二楼坐定，点了几扎啤酒，学生开始洗耳恭听蛙老师提纲挈领地讲解爵士乐之流变，奈何天资愚顿受益不深，老师也定有对牛弹琴之感；倒是把酒之时不误八卦宿舍诸老师同学一节令我等颇得要领――由以晴兜兜被八最多，不知该同学当晚打喷嚏否。

蛙老师差不多每五分钟会看一次手表，我们以为他还有别的事情，问他是否着急回去，他却一再声明只是习惯动作而已。近午夜，酒尽而归，目送蛙老师所乘之出租车驶入夜上海。近三年之后重逢竟只有短短两个小时，再聚已不知是何夕何处了。

是为记。

－－－－－－－－－

附记之一：
事后看蛙老师的博客方知他在与我们分手之后确实还有下半场，而且居然唱K到天明，可见看手表并非只是习惯动作

附记之二：
在会合之后去酒吧的路上及坐在酒吧里面的时候，S两次感叹：“青蛙好帅啊！”直叹得本学生不仅信心全无而且担心倍增，故蛙老师踏车而去之时本学生并无执意挽留

想让爸爸妈妈开心其实很简单

英国病人 @ 2004-04-19 14:21

前天在济南有两个小时左右的空闲时间，于是打车去了东郊的经济学院。校园出乎意料的新出乎意料的整齐。站在没有水的喷泉池边上给妈妈打电话，让她猜我在哪里。当她听说我就站在她母校的校园里的时候，她的声音里透出的兴奋是我很少听到的。后来爸爸接过电话，告诉我这里已经是新校址了，他们上学和大炼钢铁的地方其实更靠近市中心，就在千佛山脚下。他们甚至忙不迭地问我要不要去拜访一下校长——现任校长是他们的学弟。

答应带照片给他们看，想象着到时候他们高兴的样子。他们应该有差不多十年没有回去了吧。今年十月要陪他们再来一次的。

明白其实想让他们开心很简单：只要让他们知道你心里有他们、你以他们为荣就行了。

被“敏感”掉的那篇

可惜了安雅的评论，没找回来

2004-3-12
前天从香港带回来的新书

星期一、二在香港出差，自然不能放过逛书店的机会。本来是要买港版的《往事并不如烟》，到了才知道港版要这个星期才出，而且易名为《最后的贵族》。去的第一家书店的老板还给我看了一份简报，是章诒和的访谈。好在周末还要去，可以几乎是第一时间买到。

两天四家书店之后计有如下收获：

《廿一世纪的忧思----Li Shenzhi文选（续一）》、《被革命吞吃掉的儿子----Li Shenzhi文选（续二）》（明报出版社）
这是《风雨苍黄五十年----Li Shenzhi文选》的两本续集。第一本去年访港时购得。或许谈起德谟克拉希(democracy)、礼伯提(liberty)、修门来此(human rights)的理论，我们这些有幸浸淫了欧风美雨的晚辈比他们了解的更有条理，可是慎公们（早的还有顾准，与慎公同时代的还有Li Rui、Bao Tong等）可贵的是他们作为体制内的高层是通过切身的体会接受了这些人类共同的价值，并身体力行的推而广之。所以读这些书在学理上不一定会有太大的长进，但是买他们的书是我们这一辈人对他们致敬的一种方式吧。

《在梵谷的星空下沉思》（Wang Dan著）（大田出版）
去年看到这本书的时候并没有打算买，因为对作者写字的能力并没有太高的信心。但是后来读了董桥为其作的序，对作者还是增加了一些好感。昨天在网上看到Dr. Jiang Yanyong的上书，又把我带回了那个春夏之交……

《泰晤士河畔----陶杰精选作品1》、《风流花相----陶杰精选作品2》(皇冠丛书）
还是两年多以前将进酒老师和晴朗老弟介绍我认识了陶杰的文字，当年将老师送的那本《泰晤士河畔》读完以后依然在书架上站一席之地。因此所谓精选应该是不错的吧。

《情感的实践----香港流行歌词研究》（陈清侨 编）（牛津大学出版社）
回北京的飞机上读完了一半。流行歌曲的歌词水平高下相差实在是太过巨大了

第二个星期从香港买的新书

在去听大佑的演唱会之前跑到旺角的樂文書店（这四个字要是写成简体字就怎么看都不象那么回事），买了下面几本书：

《最后的贵族》（章诒和 著， 牛津大学出版社）
这是上星期在这里的时候就想好一定要买的，只等这星期出版。不过一下子买了两本就有了更多的折扣——另一本是安雅要的：）这两天在家对照着大陆版看这个新版本，颇有许多值得玩味之处。

《二十世纪的精神教训》（戈尔巴乔夫、池田大作 著，天地图书）
看池田的东西最早是他和贝恰博士的对话，回头一看居然是十多年前的事了。虽然我对罗马俱乐部的观点不甚以为然，池田的名字还是留在了心里。后来是他和汤因比的对话。据译者介绍眼前这一本对话集成书于1996年，不知何以到8年以后才出中文本。对话似乎是不错的一种形式，从孔夫子、苏格拉底到李泽厚都对对话偏爱有加。

《大学之理念》（金耀基 著，牛津大学出版社）
去年访港时曾购得此书，结果回到北京下飞机的时候竟把书忘在了飞机上，此次有机会补上。

后来往红馆的路上路过尖沙咀的天地图书门市，又顺便购得：

《图腾下的银河——陶杰精选作品3》（皇冠丛书）
上星期还只看到出了1和2，这星期居然就有了3，实在是有些夸张。

《拈来趣味——林行止自选集》（天地图书）
又是一本续集，去年买的是这个系列里面的前一本《闲在心上》。

这次在香港听了大佑，买了书，跟007半夜去吃了大排档喝了冰啤酒，第二天去港澳码头之前还赶上看了《20、30、40》，可以说是can't be better：）

附：博客很无耻，居然把我上一篇香港购书的文章给“敏感”掉了。待我“整理”一下再重贴一遍

又要见大佑了

今天007来电话，问我要不要去听大佑。原本在犹豫，演唱会前的那个周末在香港，如果紧接着又回去似乎有点过分。可是好象是天赐良机啊，刚刚接到通知，14号要去澳门出差，所以干脆早去香港一天。期待中。

上次见大佑居然已经是两年多以前南京的事了。给自己许一个愿：希望以后每隔一两年可以见他一面，只要他还在唱。他应该还可以唱10多年吧--Paul已经过了60岁，不光新娶了娇妻，去年还有一次环球演唱会呢。

S说我对流行音乐的喜爱没有进步，居然还能那么支持一个吃老本的人。没办法，谁让他的老本了不起呢？更何况谁说他是只吃老本----他是实践着“每天进步一点点”的。

关于dang的对话

跟S讲电话，提到以前一次精彩对话：
那次说起我的大学生活，开始的时候曾经努力想入dang，可是89之后把申请要回来了。再后来毕业进了政府，领导曾找我谈话：年轻人应该要求进步，dang的大门是永远向你敞开的。我说：谢谢领导关心，可是我的大门已经不向dang敞开了。S听了以后说：你怎么把dang说得象个女人。我说：不对，你这么说是对女人 的污辱。

雷锋的生理问题

不是说雷锋生理上有问题，而是好奇他如何解决有关问题。

跟S讲电话，忘记怎么就说起雷锋。以下是对话的精彩内容提要：

雷锋过世的时候22岁，就算赶上人祸三年营养不济也应该发育成熟有好几年了――相信他肯定发育上没问题，不然也不可能达到参军的标准。那么他的生理需要是如何解决的呢？没听说雷锋有女朋友，即使有那年代里也不大可能发生越轨行为。那么只有一种可能性：这位革命战士是自给自足的。

接下来又有问题了：大家都住在营房里，“朝夕相处”，起床熄灯都要听吹号的，他什么时候完成自给自足的过程呢？完成以后做什么？忽然想到毛姆笔下的 Larry，他有时候会和女友亲热之后再去读书，似乎读的是斯宾诺沙之流。毕竟等而下之，而且Larry是只有吸收没有产出的。

雷锋就不同了，不仅通读了数遍比斯宾诺沙等远为深刻的领袖《选集》，而且写出了那么多闪光的日记。大胆的假设：可能这些都是在满足之后阅读和写作的――姑且把熄灯号的问题放在一边。因而是否可以得出初步结论：在性事上独乐乐比与人乐乐更有利于人类智慧文明的积累与发展。

接下来就是小心的求证了，这部分工作交给弗老爷子来做吧，什么力比多啊，升华啊什么的都可以用上了。

From London to Beijing in 50 Hours （Part II)

英国病人 @ 2004-02-21 02:25

2月7日
09：30（巴黎时间） 起床，下楼去吃早饭，简单得不能再简单，要6欧元。抢钱嘛！开手机，J的短信进来：你还没到北京么？我有点担心。我回信：在巴黎机场的ibis呢，昨天错过了国航班机。一会她又回信：没事就好，你只能参观戴高乐了。印象中她每次来巴黎出差都是住这家酒店的。
12：00 早餐后回到房间看书。这会儿到了该退房的时间，不然的话――昨天进店的时候服务生交待的明白――每延长一个小时要加收10欧元。不过我可以在大堂的沙发上待着继续看书。对了，老板星期一早上要用的文件需要周日晚上发出去给他，干脆这会儿做出来吧。于是打开ThinkPad开始工作。过了一会才意识到一个问题：因为没有计划在巴黎停留，结果只带了英式电源插头，现在只能靠电池来支撑电脑的运行。进而发现另一个问题：手机的充电器也是英式的，偏偏这个 6600的耗电比较厉害，显示只有一半的电量了。
14：00 两天里第三次乘机场的穿梭巴士，到达Terminal 1。赫然发现显示屏上的“延误”！原定19：00起飞的航班要延误到夜里2：00，天哪，7个小时！有没有别的办法？跑到法航的柜台去打听回北京的其他线路，法兰克福？伦敦？没有，全满了；香港？有座位，但是头等舱的；直接买一张法航一小时以后回北京的票呢？有，不过要2400欧元！夜里回上海的这个航班好象是唯一的可能了。忽然想起前两天足总杯比赛中场的时候基冈的特写镜头配的解说是：“How worse can this still get?”好像也适用我现在的状态啊！
16：30 终于等来国航的机场管理人员，交了76欧元的改票费，拿到登机牌。给S打电话，告诉她这个继续不幸下去的消息。最糟糕的是这个航班到上海的时候应该已经错过了最后一班上海飞北京的航班，也就是说我还得在上海过一夜，她还要自己在酒店住一晚。
17：00 突然意识到如果真是象刚才设想的这样发展的话，我要到星期一中午才能回到公司，必须在上飞机之前把文件发出去。堂堂的戴高乐到了下午5点竟然已经没有可以上网的地方了。只好开机、用手机连电脑、启动红外……怎么突然不灵了？？？这不是害我么？情急之下竟然想出个“好”主意：把文件的内容用短信发给CY，让她打出来再email给老板，好在她本来就负责这个项目，所以也不算太过分。用短信抄录下文件的最后一段，正好是电脑的电池耗尽的时候！Perfect timing啊!
19：00 前几天在Charing Cross Road的旧书店买了两本书，一本是送Anyal的那本“The Moon and Sixpence”，另一本就是手上这本Hanif Kureishi的“Intimacy”，这会已经看完了，正好是原本应该起飞的时间了。无奈。
21：00 很疲惫了。到登机口，还空荡荡呢。找一个安静的角落躺下，竟很快就睡着了。
（2月8日）02：00 竟然还要再等半个小时才能登机。如果在此之前还幻想到上海以后可以赶上最后一个航班回北京的话，这时候我已经对下半场不抱任何希望了。
02：45 飞机开始滑行……

2月8日
18：00（北京时间） 已经飞了8个小时。百无聊赖，开始读Michael Palin，被坐在身边的哥们看到，问我是否也是从伦敦过来的。我说是啊，不过是前一天下午就过来了。他感叹女朋友已经在浦东机场等了他8个小时，然后他们还要再坐6个小时的长途车去南京；我说我女朋友已经在北京等了我48个小时，我还不知道什么时候能回北京呢。
20：40 飞机降落在浦东机场。走出机舱，我问机场的东航工作人员，还有没有回北京的航班，虽然知道答案肯定是没有。万万没想到她说：最后一个航班20：10已经起飞了，可是还有一班从美国过来的航班可能会延误到21：45才能起飞去北京。谁说天上不掉馅饼的？？？我拖着箱子一路狂奔，到了边防直接跑到最前面，跟大家道歉说要赶下一个航班，排在后面的各位不但欣然让我先办，熟悉机场的当地人还告诉我往哪个方向跑。再狂奔、出海关、上楼、找柜台、买机票、往登机门跑过去、气喘吁吁……到了登机口，21：30。开手机，电量还有一个格，给S电话：我激动、她狂喜！
21：45 起飞。空姐代表机组为飞机延误道歉，我心里那个乐啊，我从没有这么喜欢过延误:)谁能想到曼城可以下半场扳回4个球？！
23：40 走出北京机场大厅，看到S，拥她入怀……

现在的笑话最后都有几条morals，我这50个小时的旅程结束也该概括一些教训：
1、能不坐法航就不要坐，能不坐国航就不要坐，尤其不要企图衔接这两个公司的航班；
2、三通之重要性不仅体现在台海两岸，任何旅行都要尽量争取坐直航，即使需要在伦敦多住一晚也在所不惜；
3、Visa很重要――我指的是签证和信用卡；
4、我要是有朝一日发达了当上国际标准组织的总干事，第一件事就是统一全球的插座标准。

From London to Beijing in 50 Hours （Part I)

英国病人 @ 2004-02-21 02:22

今天想起2月6号从伦敦出发回北京的一路艰辛还气不打一处来！

因为2月6号没有直航回北京，本来老秘书建议我多在英国住一个晚上，等7号下午坐英航回来，星期天一早可以到家。这样的话我星期五晚上肯定会从乡下搬到伦敦去住，还可以把前一天错过的电影补上（都怪anyal和roger，把星期四最后一场的时间搞错了）

可是我没同意，坚持6号下午从公司直接去Heathrow，这样星期六中午就可以到北京了，因为S这几天在北京出差，从周末开始休假，总想早一天回来陪她。况且我不回来她只能住酒店，她很不喜欢。

流水账是这样的：
2月6日
13：30 （伦敦时间） 公司定的出租车准时出发，从Southwood前往Heathrow，这已经是这几天里第四次坐这老哥们的车了。他人很不错，昨天还免费把我送到火车站。
14：15 车到Heathrow的Terminal 2。我在车上睡着了，一睁眼看车还在高速公路上就在半梦半醒之间自言自语了一句：真远啊。身边的司机马上问：Sorry?我才明白过来搞错了语言，想起刚从英国回去的时候也是在爸妈面前会不由自主的嘟囔出英文来。Terminal 2其实是很熟悉的，那时候每次进出英国都是从这里走的，因为法航的班机在这个候机楼，我又总是拿着从J那里拿来的员工家属票。她这些天好么？说好回到北京会发短信给她的。
15：30 开始排队准备登机了。刚才在WHSmith买了两本书，一本是“The Sexual Life of Catherine M”（我在心里称之为”法国版的遗情书“，很是骂了自己一句心理阴暗的:)不过英国人也爱偷窥的吧，这本书现在名列零售榜第一位），另一本是 Michael Palin的“Sahara”，我对这个人和那片沙漠都感兴趣--其实提起Sahara脑子里第一个镜头竟是"The English Patient"的开头。
16：00 起飞的时间到了，怎么还没有动静？心里有点打鼓，我在巴黎机场只有50分钟的转机时间啊！可千万别……
16：30 飞机开始滑行，比预定时间晚了半个小时。我感觉有点不妙。不过，从来没有误过飞机：去年10月在新加坡因为城里塞车到机场的时候离预定起飞时间只有15分钟了，结果还是赶上了，这回也会搞定的――在心里这么安慰自己。
18：20（巴黎时间） 飞机降落在戴高乐机场2号候机楼前。离接下来的国航飞北京的航班预定起飞时间只有半个小时了。我请法航的机组帮忙通知一下国航的机组等我一下，结果那位漂亮的法航空姐耸了耸肩，表示无能为力，建议我还是快点往1号候机楼赶。提着箱子上楼、下楼，然后是无尽头地等候机场的穿梭巴士。
18：45 前往1号候机楼的机场穿梭巴士终于来了。车行到一半停下来给跑道上的飞机让路，这时我看见从我们面前缓缓经过的那架巨型飞机的机身上清楚地漆着“中国国际航空公司”，that was a terrible feeling.
19：00 排队过Immigration。幸亏我有一年的申根签证，不然还不得在机场待24小时？没有签证的中国旅客怎么办呢？
19：20 理直气壮地找到法航柜台要求他们安排住处和衔接的航班，柜台后面的服务人员看了我的机票，然后礼貌的拒绝了：您这是两张分开的机票，对法航来说您只是从伦敦到巴黎的一位乘客，对您错过国航的班机我们没有责任。顺便告诉您，明天国航的航班是去上海的。天哪，气死！不过气也只能撒在我们公司用的票务公司身上了！
19：30 拎着箱子，再次乘机场穿梭巴士，到达位于3号候机楼旁边的ibis酒店。登记、进房间，除了床和一台小电视以及一张桌子以外几乎什么也没有，95欧元一晚。幸亏我的信用卡还能继续刷――陈升曾经唱道“哭泣的信用卡”，但愿我的卡能支持我到明天回北京。
00：30 北京早上7：30，给Barbro打电话，告诉她我的不幸遭遇。根据公司的policy我可以住现在的酒店，也可以从上海直接买一张机票回北京，“What else can you do?”她笑着说。祝她的狗都健康长寿！她问我是否打算进城去看看，我说不了，在巴黎我有太多痛苦的记忆。
02：00 忍着困倦熬到北京早上9：00，给S打电话，告诉她我被耽误在了巴黎，她只能在酒店再住一晚了。放下电话倒头大睡。

前些日子已经博过了

今天上来怎么都想不起密码了，只好再重新博过一次。