STUDY IN CHINA GLOBAL (SCG)作品原文
余光中 《西欧的夏天》
旅客似乎是十分轻松的人，实际上却相当辛苦。旅客不用上班，却必须受时间的约束；爱做什么就做什么，却必须受钱包的限制；爱去哪里就去哪里，却必须把几件行李蜗牛壳一般带在身上。旅客最可怕的噩梦，是钱和证件一起遗失，沦为来历不明的乞丐。旅客最难把握的东西，便是气候。
我现在就是这样的旅客。从西班牙南端一直旅行到英国的北端，我经历了各样的气候，已经到了寒暑不侵的境界。此刻我正坐在中世纪古堡改装的旅馆里，为读者写稿，刚刚黎明，湿灰灰的云下是苏格兰中部荒莽的林木，林外是隐隐的青山。晓寒袭人，我坐在厚达尺许的石墙里，穿了一件毛衣，如果要走下回旋长梯像走下古堡之肠，去坡下的野径漫步寻幽，还得披上一件够厚的外套。
从台湾的定义讲来，西欧几乎没有夏天。昼蝉夜蛙，汗流浃背，是台湾的夏天。在西欧的大城，例如巴黎和伦敦，7月中旬走在阳光下，只觉得温暧舒适，并不出汗。西欧的旅馆和汽车，例皆不备冷气，因为就算天热，也是几天就过去了，值不得为避暑费事。我在西班牙、法国、英国等地租车长途旅行，其车均无冷气，只能扇风。
巴黎的所谓夏天，像是台北的深夜，早晚上街，凉风袭肘，一件毛衣还不足御寒。如果你走塞纳河边，风力加上水气，更需要一件风衣才行。下午日暖，单衣便够，可是一走到楼影或树阴里，便嫌单衣太薄。地面如此，地下却又不同。巴黎的地车比纽约、伦敦、马德里的都好，却相当闷热，令人穿不住毛衣。所以地上地下，穿穿脱脱，也颇麻烦。7月在巴黎的街上，行人的衣装，从少女的背心短裤到老妪的厚大衣，四季都有。7月在巴黎，几乎天天都是晴天，有时一连数日碧空无云，入夜后天也不黑下来，只变得深洞洞的暗蓝。巴黎附近无山，城中少见高楼，城北的蒙马特也只是一个矮丘，太阳要到九点半才落到地平线上，更显得昼长夜短，有用不完的下午。不过晴天也会突来霹雳：7月14日法国国庆那天上午，密特朗总统在香热里榭大道主持阅兵盛典，就忽来一阵大雨，淋得总统和军乐队狼狈不堪。电视的观众看得见雨气之中，乐队长的指挥杖竟失手落地，连忙俯身拾起。
法国北部及中部地势平坦，一望无际，气候却有变化。巴黎北行一小时至卢昂，就觉得冷些；西南行二小时至罗瓦河中流，气候就暖得多，下午竟颇燠热，不过入夜就凉下来，星月异常皎洁。
再往南行入西班牙，气候就变得干暖。马德里在高台地的中央，七月的午间并不闷热，入夜甚至得穿毛衣。我在南部安达露西亚地区及阳光海岸（Costa del Sol）开车，一路又干又热，枯黄的草原，干燥的石堆，大地像一块烙饼，摊在酷蓝的天穹之下，路旁的草丛常因干燥而起火，势颇惊人。可是那是干热，并不令人出汗，和台湾的湿闷不同。
英国则趋于另一极端，显得阴湿，气温也低。我在伦敦的河堤区住了三天，一直是阴天，下着间歇的毛毛雨。即使破晓时露一下朝暾，早餐后天色就阴沉下来了。与我存走过滑铁卢桥，7月的河风吹来，水气阴阴，令人打一个寒噤，把毛的翻领拉起。我们开车北行，一路上经过塔尖如梦的牛津，城楼似幻的勒德洛（Ludlow），古桥野渡的蔡斯特（Chester），雨云始终罩在车顶，雨点在车窗上也未干过。进入步布瑞亚的湖区之后，遍地江湖，满空云雨，偶见天边绽出一角薄蓝，立刻便有更多的灰云挟雨遮掩过来。真要怪华兹华斯的诗魂小气，不肯让我一窥他诗中的晴美湖光。在我一夕投宿的鹰头（Hawkshead）小店栈楼窗望出去，沿湖一带，树树含雨，山山带云，很想告诉格拉斯米教堂墓地里的诗翁，我国古代有一片云梦大泽，也出过一位水气逼人的诗宗。
英文译文
Summer in Western Europe
Yu Guangzhong
Light-hearted as he seems,a traveler is in fact under great stress. Though on vacation, he is nevertheless subject to the restraint of time. He can do whatever he likes on the trip, but he has to keep the expenditure within the limits of his pocket. Wherever he goes, he has to take with him his cumbersome hand luggage. He faces the most horrible possibility of losing his money and credentials, which will reduce himself to a pauper of unknown background. And, besides, he can never be sure of the weather.
That’s what I’m like now. I’ve traveled all the way from the southern tip of Spain to the northern tip of England, experiencing a variety of climates until I’ve become apathetic to the elements. I’m now sitting in a medieval castle turned hotel, writing an article for my readers. The day is just dawning. In Central Scotland, there lies under the gray wet clouds a wild wooded region, beyond which a green mountain stands faintly visible. In the chilly air of the early morning, I have to be dressed in a woolen sweater while sitting on a stone wall one foot on thickness. But I need, in addition, an outer garment to keep me warm in case I come down the spiral staircase—the intestines of the castle—to take a stroll along an unfrequented path down the mountain slope in search of secluded places of quiet beauty.
By Taiwan standards, Western Europe has pratically no summer at all. Summer in Taiwan is characterized by man’s copious perspiration as well as daytime chirping of cicadas and nighty croaking of frogs while in big European cities, like Paris and London, the mid-July temperature is so moderate and comfortable that none sweat even in the sun. Hotels and cars in Western Europe are usually not air-conditioned because hot days are so few that people don’t bother about having a cooler. The cars I hired for long-distance driving in Spain, France and England had fans, but no air-conditioning.
The climate of Paris in summer is like that of Taipei at night. When you go out on an early morning or late evening, your woolen sweater will be hardly warm enough to keep out the nip in the air. When you walk along the Seine, where it is even chillier due to the strong wind coupled with the cold waters, you have to wear a windcheater. Then, all you need is just an unlined garment in the afternoon when it is warm, but you’ll feel like putting on more when you are under the shade of buildings or trees. That’s all for things aboveground. Now things underground. The subway of Paris is better than that of New York, London or Madrid, but it is so hot and stuffy that you feel like taking off your woolen sweater. Consequently you’ll be annoyed by having to don or doff your clothes now and then, depending on whether you’re aboveground or underground. In July, Parisians in the open are seen dressed in the clothes of all seasons, ranging from young girls’ vests and short skirt to elderly women’s thick overcoats. In July, Paris has sunny weather almost every day. Sometimes the sky is blue and cloudless for days on end and, when night comes, it never turns pitch dark, but remains a deep blue. There are no mountains in its vicinity and few high-rises in the city proper. Montmartre in the north of the city is a mere hillock. As the sun never sinks below the horizon until 9:30 pm, the days seem even longer and the nights even shorter. And the afternoons seem to last endlessly. Nevertheless, sometimes a thunderbolt also comes from the clear sky. On the morning of July14, French National Day, when President Mitterrand was presiding over the review of a massive military parade on Champs Elysées, it suddenly started rainning in torrents. The President and the military band, caught in the downpour, found themselves in a very awkward situation. TV viewers even saw the bandmaster bend down quickly to pick up the baton he had dropped onto the ground in a flurry.
In Northern and Central France lie boundless level plains with varying climates. Rouen, which is a one-hour ride to the north of Paris, is cooler while the central reaches of the Loire River, which is a two-hour ride to the southwest of Paris, is much warmer. The latter becomes very hot in the afternoon, but cooler at night with the bright moon and stars in the sky.
Down in Spain, the climate is arid and warm. Madrid is located in the center of plateau. Its noontime temperature in July is not sultry, and you have to wear a woolen sweater towards the evening. In Southern Spain, when driving in the Andalucia region and along the Costa del Sol, I found everything dry and hot. The grass was turning yellow and the rocks were dry. The earth was like a pancake roasting under the deep blue firmament. Alarmingly, the roadside grass often started burning by itself. Unlike Taiwan which is humid, Southern Spain is hot and dry and so people there don’t sweat at all.
England is at the other extreme, being overcast and wet with a low temperature. It was gloomy all the time and kept drizzling intermittently during the three days when I stayed in the River Embankment area of London. Sometimes the morning sun made its brief appearance at daybreak, but the sky turned overcast soon after breakfast. While crossing Waterloo Bridge with Wocun against the July wind blowing from the River Thames, a nip in the air sent shivers down my spine, forcing me to turn up my fur collar. We drove up north through Oxford with its dreamy spires, Ludlow with its illusory old castles and Chester with its ancient bridge and solitary ferry crossing. Rain clouds continued to hang over our car and raindrops remained intact on its windows. After entering the Lake District, Cumbria, we found rivers and lakes everywhere and the sky full of rain clouds. Occasionally a speck of light blue would appear over the horizon only to be soon blotted out by dark grey rain clouds. I could not help complaining against Wordworth for grudging me a sunny scene of the beautiful Lakeland as described in his poems. In Hawkshead, I put up for one night at a small inn. Looking out of its window, I saw all trees around the lakes wet with rain and all mountains shrouded by clouds. How I longed to tell the great poet lying in Grasmere Churchyard that in ancient China there was also a great poet domiciled in a region of rivers and lakes!
