【編者按】著名翻譯家沙博理著有英文自傳My China： The Metamorphosis of a Country and a Man（《情系中華五十年》，新世界出版社，1997）。下面的英文部分取自該書，筆觸平實(shí)，感情真摯，翔實(shí)、細(xì)膩地講述了沙博理與其妻鳳子的婚姻戀愛史，是一篇極為難得的佳作。英譯文并非和中文原文（鳳子自述）逐字對(duì)應(yīng)，而是將一些中文細(xì)節(jié)信息省略，使譯文更為簡(jiǎn)練。因中文原文獨(dú)立成篇，而英文譯文是自傳中的部分章節(jié)，故而標(biāo)題也并不一致。

一九四七年四月一日，我居住的上海虹口區(qū)萬(wàn)歲館二樓，一間約八平米大小的房間里。突然響起了“篤篤篤”的敲門聲，大約是上午十時(shí)光景。我連喊幾聲：“請(qǐng)進(jìn)！”門未見推開，只好起身去開門。

只見門外站著一位碧眼黃發(fā)的青年，操著異樣口音的中國(guó)話說(shuō)：“我找鳳子女士！”

他就是一直到今天和我共同生活了四十五年的老伴沙博理。

面對(duì)這位陌生的外國(guó)青年，我才突然想起老友楊云慧從美國(guó)耶魯大學(xué)寄來(lái)的信，說(shuō)她的一位美國(guó)同學(xué)沙博理準(zhǔn)備到中國(guó)繼續(xù)學(xué)中文，介紹他來(lái)找我，因?yàn)槲以?jì)劃去美國(guó)，可以和他練習(xí)會(huì)話。

“您是密斯特Shapiro？”

“我是沙博理！”

他不用英語(yǔ)，固執(zhí)地用他異樣口音的中國(guó)話說(shuō)出自己的漢文姓名，一邊邁步跨進(jìn)我的斗室。

我奇怪這位黃發(fā)、碧眼來(lái)自太平洋彼岸的美國(guó)青年，為什么這個(gè)時(shí)候要到中國(guó)來(lái)。日本投降后的上海，經(jīng)過(guò)國(guó)民黨官員們的大肆劫收，在美國(guó)支持下，正用美軍飛機(jī)運(yùn)送物資、武器到東北，繼續(xù)支持國(guó)民黨打內(nèi)戰(zhàn)，妄圖實(shí)現(xiàn)他們未逞的“剿共”迷夢(mèng)。這時(shí)候的上海，物資匱乏，國(guó)庫(kù)空虛，法幣貶值，物價(jià)一日數(shù)漲，人民怨聲載道，民不聊生，餓殍倒斃街頭，盜賊橫行，昔日中外冒險(xiǎn)家的樂(lè)園，如今卻真正成了鬼蜮橫行的世界。

由于語(yǔ)言隔閡，我對(duì)這位美國(guó)青年的疑問(wèn)，是經(jīng)過(guò)了相當(dāng)長(zhǎng)一段的時(shí)間才逐漸了解的。

我從未接待過(guò)外國(guó)人，正值吃午飯時(shí)間，我不便留他在我這間狹窄的屋子里共食我的簡(jiǎn)單的飯菜，于是請(qǐng)他到附近的西餐館，叫了兩客客飯，所謂公司菜，有湯、有冷盤、有一盤炸肉排，最后是咖啡、甜點(diǎn)。我以為這就是所謂的正規(guī)西餐了。誰(shuí)知他只吃了一點(diǎn)，有的竟不動(dòng)刀叉。

我奇怪地問(wèn)他：“你吃過(guò)飯了么？”

“沒(méi)有?！彼卮?。

這個(gè)疑問(wèn)一直在我心里，直到若干年后，應(yīng)該說(shuō)三十多年后，我和他一塊去美國(guó)探親，住在紐約他妹妹家，才多少了解了點(diǎn)不同民族、不同國(guó)家，具體地說(shuō)美國(guó)人的生活習(xí)慣。飲食上，他們是以肉食為主食，一般就一盤燒或煎的豬、牛肉或肉排，配以少許素菜，不一定有湯，飯后喝咖啡或茶。特別是中午那餐飯，只隨便吃兩片面包夾起士，或者就是頭天晚上的剩余食品。因?yàn)樗麄儧](méi)有睡午覺(jué)的習(xí)慣，寫字間工作的人中午只有一小時(shí)的時(shí)間休息，大多到街上買一個(gè)“熱狗”或“三明治”就行。晚飯全家人都回來(lái)了，才正經(jīng)燒個(gè)菜，有時(shí)也有湯，有水果。

難怪外國(guó)朋友來(lái)中國(guó)，到中國(guó)朋友家吃飯，都為滿桌豐盛的菜肴吃驚。有人問(wèn)：“你們每頓飯都是這么吃的嗎？”他們難以理解。當(dāng)然，好客是中國(guó)人的美德。據(jù)說(shuō)我們的國(guó)宴，曾有明令：四菜一湯。實(shí)際上，加上冷盤、點(diǎn)心等等，最后仍然剩下不少菜肴。還有所謂公費(fèi)請(qǐng)客，名義是接待一位專家、學(xué)者或重要客戶，可是每頓要花幾百上千元，因?yàn)橹魅思优憧徒^不止一人！往往宴席也絕不止一桌！

飲食文化，中國(guó)有悠久的傳統(tǒng)，云貴川等省以辣出名，閩粵吃蛇、烤乳豬，北京當(dāng)然數(shù)烤鴨了。中國(guó)是多民族國(guó)家，各民族風(fēng)尚又各自不同，飲食文化自然各異。沙博理為走訪水陸兩條絲綢之路，到過(guò)新疆，他奇怪手抓羊肉怎么一點(diǎn)也不膩，味也不膻。他特別愛吃維吾爾族的油炸馓子。

入鄉(xiāng)隨俗，可幾十年的生活經(jīng)歷，他兒時(shí)養(yǎng)成的飲食習(xí)慣到老也難改變。如他不喜歡過(guò)于油膩的東西和水煮的吃食。如餃子，他不愛吃，可他吃鍋貼?？墒怯行┲袊?guó)人的老習(xí)慣，如喝茶，他特別喜愛，而且獨(dú)愛清茶。出國(guó)探親，一定要帶上茶葉。

他來(lái)中國(guó)時(shí)剛?cè)畾q出頭，在中國(guó)生活了四十多年，將到八十歲了，生活習(xí)慣也多少中國(guó)化了。如他愛著布鞋，冬天穿對(duì)襟短絲綿襖，為了舒適，也很實(shí)用。特別是語(yǔ)言模仿能力，由于我們家往來(lái)的朋友演員多，大家說(shuō)的比較標(biāo)準(zhǔn)的普通話，又在北京住了四十多年，他的中國(guó)話聽來(lái)比南方生長(zhǎng)的朋友們說(shuō)得地道。他常笑我是生長(zhǎng)在長(zhǎng)江邊上的人，L、N的發(fā)音不分，我就挑他說(shuō)話語(yǔ)調(diào)上的毛病。

一個(gè)單身婦女的日子是不好過(guò)的，和誰(shuí)往來(lái)總會(huì)被人議論。當(dāng)時(shí)我正忙于寫作，寫小說(shuō)、寫散文，編輯出版了抗戰(zhàn)時(shí)期寫的散文集《八年》《舞臺(tái)漫步》和兩本小說(shuō);同時(shí)，我也想出國(guó)，換個(gè)生活環(huán)境，可又想等著解放的一天到來(lái)，可以投入一個(gè)嶄新的生活。

沙博理突然闖進(jìn)我的生活圈子，猶如平靜的湖面被擊下一石，起了一圈又一圈的浪花，我想改變一下生活，可我難?。?/p>

這就是我的婚姻戀愛史，似乎復(fù)雜，結(jié)合離散也那么自然。同時(shí)，這個(gè)美國(guó)青年的確吸引了我，他不像一般的美國(guó)人給人印象那么粗野，他很英俊，也很瀟灑，待人接物彬彬有禮。特別對(duì)中國(guó)的一切，似是好奇，卻是懷著深厚的感情。我們大多數(shù)中國(guó)人是以美國(guó)電影上出現(xiàn)的形象來(lái)看美國(guó)人的。現(xiàn)在通過(guò)這個(gè)活生生的美國(guó)人，我逐漸對(duì)美國(guó)、美國(guó)人有所了解。

為了裝修姚主教路我們的新居，沙博理把律師收入的積蓄不知花了多少，對(duì)如何裝修更是十分認(rèn)真，其實(shí)不過(guò)兩間房，實(shí)際是一大間，客廳和臥室是用布幔隔開的。墻壁一定要淺藍(lán)色，顯得幽雅、寧?kù)o。我對(duì)這一切不大注意，看他那么認(rèn)真，看他對(duì)即將建立的這個(gè)家所懷的感情，是那樣的真摯、深厚，也不禁為之感動(dòng)。

In April 1947 I was living in a small flat in the Hongkou section of Shanghai. Suddenly I heard “knock， knock， knock” on the door. It was about ten in the morning. “Come in，” I shouted. Nobody entered， though I called several times， so I got up and opened the door. Standing there was a “blue-eyed， golden-haired” young man. （A common aphorism. To many Chinese foreigners looked outlandish.）

“I’m looking for Miss Phoenix，” he said， in heavily accented Chinese.

He was Sha Boli， the man I have been living with as husband and wife for the past 45 years.

My friend Nancy Yang had written that an American who had been a student with her at Yale was coming and wanted to continue studying Chinese. She knew I was planning to go to America and suggested that I teach him， in exchange for him helping me learn some English.

“Are you Mr. Shapiro？” I asked.

“I am Sha Boli.”

He didn’t use English， but insisted on speaking his broken Chinese as he strode into my flat.

I was surprised. Why should this young American from the opposite side of the Pacific choose to come to China at this time？ It was with American support that the Kuomintang had plundered Shanghai after the Japanese surrendered. American military transport planes had flown arms and supplies to the northeast to help the Kuomintang continue the civil war in its dream to “exterminate the Communists.” Shanghai was short of everything， the national treasury was empty， prices were soaring， the newly issued “gold yuan” could not save the collapsing economy. The people were protesting， they could barely survive. There were corpses on every corner， crime was rampant. Shanghai had become a paradise for Chinese and foreign speculators， it was indeed a world of devils.

Because of the language barrier， it was a long time before I could gradually get the answers to my questions from the young American.

I had never entertained a foreigner before. It was nearly lunch time. I couldn’t ask him to share my simple fare in my cramped little flat， so I invited him to a nearby foreign restaurant. I ordered two orders of soup， cold cuts， steak， coffee and dessert. I assumed this was a typical Western meal. But he ate very little. Some things he didn’t even touch. I was surprised.

“Have you already eaten？” I asked.

“No，” he replied.

It was a question that puzzled me for a long time—for more than 30 years， to be exact. I went with him to America and visited his sister in New York. That was when I finally began to realize a bit about the differences in racial and national customs， particularly about the way Americans lived. Meat are the main courses at American meals， either cooked or grilled， either pork， or beef， or lamb chops， with a few vegetables on the side. They don’t necessarily have soup at the end of their meals， but finish with coffee or fruit. For lunch they may have only a sandwich， or left-overs from the night before. They don’t take midday naps. Since office workers have only an hour for lunch they may eat just a hot dog. Only at night， when the whole family is home for dinner， do have a substantial meal， perhaps with soup， or fruit.

Foreign friends are always amazed when they eat in Chinese homes at the tables laden with half a dozen dishes. “Do you eat like this all the time？” they ask. They don’t understand that lavish hospitality is considered a virtue in China. The rule now is that official banquets must be limited to four dishes and a soup. Actually， that doesn’t include the cold-cuts and the dessert. There are always a lot of expensive， rare viands left at the end of the meal. Especially wasteful are the official banquets given in honor of some famous expert or scholar. The cost runs into thousands of yuan. The host is sure to be accompanied by his entourage， who frequently fill several tables.

Culinary culture has a long tradition in China. In Yunnan， Guizhou and Sichuan people like their food spicy. In Guangdong and Fujian they eat snakes and roast suckling pigs. The favorite in Beijing is， of course， roast duck. China is a multi-racial country， and each ethnic minority has its own specialties. Sha Boli， while doing research along the Old Silk Road， was surprised to find when he got to Xinjiang that the mutton you eat with your hands was not greasy， and the taste not a bit gamy. He particularly enjoyed the crisp oil fritters of the Uygur people.

In a different land， follow the local customs. Over the decades Sha Boli certainly has done that where food is concerned.

And he became Sinicised in other ways as well. He prefers cloth shoes and silk-padded jackets because they are comfortable and practical. He has an excellent ear for languages. Many of my friends are actors and actresses who speak the purest Chinese， and from them be picked up the proper intonations. After over 40 years in Beijing his pronunciation is better than that of many friends from the southern part of the country. He laughs at me because as someone born and raised on the banks of the Yangtze I can’t distinguish between the L and N sounds. I twit him with his errors in cadence.

It was difficult for a single woman. People talked if she spent time with any man. I was busy writing—novels， short stories， essays. I was preparing a collection of pieces about the War of Resistance Against Japan period for publication. And I was hoping to go abroad， find a different environment. Yet I wanted to wait for the day of liberation， when I could plunge into a new life.

Sha Boli’s sudden appearance was like a stone cast into a placid pool， spreading circles of ripples. How hard it was for me to change！

Still， combining and separating my ways of life during our years of marriage and love seemed natural enough. The young man certainly attracted me. Most Americans gave me the impression of being crude. But he was very handsome and intelligent， very relaxed， generous， courteous. Everything about China aroused his curiosity. He was very fond of things Chinese. He wasn’t a bit like the Americans we saw in the movies. Through him I came to understand Americans and America much better.

I don’t know how much money he spent fixing up our new flat. He was very meticulous. Aside from the kitchen and the bathroom， the so-called two-room flat was actually only one large room， with a curtain in the middle separating the bedroom from the parlor. He had the walls painted a pale blue， giving the flat an air of elegance and quiet. I didn’t care much about such things， but I was moved to see the care and feeling he devoted to building our home.