Folklife Seattle

Hippies, banjos, and marijuana. What else could draw more of a crowd from the Pacific Northwest than such an alluring trifecta of good feelings? Even God graced the festival with partially sunny weather, and redneck evangelists wielding less than inspiring signs reminding us that Jesus still forgives our sins.

I arrived early. Took a quick stroll around the Seattle Center just in time to see the booths setting up. Finally made my way under a tree looking up at the Space Needle, and took a nap listening to Led Zepplin while waiting for my friends to arrive. Yes, I do have friends in this town, which I now call home with only a slight reservation. It has been a while since I was able to smell the grass beneath my back, while I dozed off under the gentle cloud filtered UV rays combined with the dulcet tones of Jimmy Page.

No need to be jealous. My ability to self-entertain took years of self-delusion to convince myself that a nerdy Asian with glasses in a worn out sports jacket rocking the air guitar is acceptable public behavior.

It wasn't too long after before I was joined by the Scooby Gang. Food was the first priority, as it often was with some of us. We walked past the Glass Museum, the fake Native Americans, the Darth Vader, and let our olfactory senses lead us through the crowds. First course was Hawaiian BBQ, followed by funnel cake, lumpia, smoothies, and cotton candy. I'm not saying we're a bunch of pigs, but the amount of food we were able to consume would be considered anomalous by human standards. No regrets.

We stopped by a crowd, just in time to see sword swallower Justin slowly lowering his espada down into his abdomen. Some cheered, some averted their eyes. I gave him five bucks. It's not easy making a living by subjecting your internal organs to sharp cold steel on a daily basis. But I suppose that's what folks do at the folklife festival.

Amidst the country jingles from acoustic guitars and fiddles, my ears perked up at the dirty distortions of an electric guitar from a distant concert. Surprisingly, what I assumed to be a late nineties era grunge rock concert originated from the kid's area surrounded by jump ropes and legos. I was completely floored after I cut through the crowd only to see the booming falsetto piercing my eardrums came from a kid no older than 13 years old. It was amazing to watch. The front man/child had energy rivaling Axel Rose in his heyday, interacting with the crowd and the band like a veteran despite looking like Justin Beiber. The drums were clean and on point leading into a great guitar solo.

Performances like this gives me hope for the future of humanity. When we can teach our kids to able to not only appreciate, but skillful enough to perform what the Black Sabbath did back almost five decades ago (and I'm not talking about biting the head off of a living bat, that's gross Ozzy), we know we are doing something right.

(The kids were from Bellevue School of Rock. Linked a performance if you are curious).

Next stop was an intro into Argentinian Tango. My partner was Grace, an older lady who was obviously very excited to learn the sexy dance. I was just hoping I looked half as cool as Al Pacino did in Scent of a Woman. The move was a simple parada, and the lead has it pretty easy. We just stop, shift our weight from the right to the left while the ladies do their thang. Grace was very giggly as I kept her from falling quite a few times.

Dancing is rather an interesting activity. Implicit in the motions are trust and a sense of fabricated intimacy. Despite having met this stranger who was at least 20 years my elder for only a few minutes, a few glides and missteps across the dance floor later, I was able to predict her movements and where her weight was going to be. And I could tell she trusted me. We communicated by subtle squeeze of the hand or a slight bracing of my right arm as I know she might need to lean right or left in the next moment. We were partners for half an hour, and it was fun. 

After the dance lesson, it was time to chill on the grass. We picked an open spot away from children facing the roads, and enjoyed ourselves. To our right and left were two folk bands with some guitars and banjos providing just the right amount of background music. Behind us, the disciples were breaking their vocal chords trying to cut through all the good feelings to bring us the word of God. I took a deep breath, looked at the kids playing hacky sack in front of us. This is surreal.

"You know we're living in a cliche right now right?" I turned to Alex.
"Yeah?"
"We might as well be back in the 60s."
"Just take in the moment."

And I did.

Credit the pictures to the very talented Ms. Tera Penner. Great times at the Folklife Festival. Until next year. 
 

War and Peace

It has been said:
Prostitutes are merchants of sex while bartenders are merchants of friendship.

Therefore it is not surprising that I would feel a tinge of guilt to occasionally indulge sitting alone at a bar full of strangers, as whiffs of alcohol mixed with various herbal and fruity aperitifs from across the world infiltrate my senses.

This is freedom.

True freedom is not freedom from doing, but freedom from being.
Here, in front of a merchant, I don't have to be anything; even the things that I want to be.
Our expectations are clear, and our motives so very consistent.

He smiles, he talks.
I smile, I drink.

Four tourists from Pennsylvania were enthralled by his story of inventing a drink for a woman who requested a "Jane Austen novel in a glass".
We all shared a good laugh.

What better opportunity to make a ridiculous request without seeming utterly ridiculous?

"Can you make me a 'War and Peace'?"
"Sure."

Some vodka on the rocks, some campari, some peach aperitif and some other bottles that I could not spy the name of. Stirred, not shaken. Topped off with an orange peel heated by a lighter, and the coup de grace of a fire burst.

"Some cannon fire," he smiled, "for the war."

I smiled back.  
"And to peace!" I raised my glass to the tourists. They replied in kind.

Peace is quite the rare luxury nowadays, but I find it here:
Among strangers and a merchant.

Translating Dead Poets: "As I Walked Out One Evening" by W. H. Auden " “某日黃昏外出時" : 譯讀奧登

As I Walked Out One Evening  |  某日黃昏外出時



As I walked out one evening,  |   某日黃昏外出時，
        Walking down Bristol Street,  |  我走在布里斯托爾街上。
The crowds upon the pavement  |   人行道上的擁擠
        Were fields of harvest wheat.  |   猶如一片片豐割的麥田。

And down by the brimming river  |   在滿溢欲出的河畔
        I heard a lover sing  |   我聽到戀愛中的人在歌唱。
Under an arch of the railway:  |   從鐵路拱橋的下方飄來歌聲：
        "Love has no ending.  |  “愛是永無止盡。”

"I'll love you, dear, I'll love you  |  “我會愛你的，親愛的，我將愛你
        Till China and Africa meet  |   直到中非相遇。
And the river jumps over the mountain  |   直到川逾于山，
        And the salmon sing in the street.  |   魚鳴于市。

"I'll love you till the ocean  |  “我會愛你，直到大海
        Is folded and hung up to dry  |   被折起來挂著風乾，
And the seven stars go squawking  |   直到北斗七星啼叫著
        Like geese about the sky.  |   像一群大雁掠過天際。

"The years shall run like rabbits  |   “時光飛逝如脫兔一般，
        For in my arms I hold  |   只因我手中捧著
The Flower of the Ages  |   長生不老之花。
        And the first love of the world."  |  以及舉世無雙的初愛。”

But all the clocks in the city  |   但此時這座城中所有的鐘都
        Began to whirr and chime:  |   開始叮叮咚咚騷動不安。
"O let not Time deceive you,  |  “咄，別讓時間之神矇騙了你們。
        You cannot conquer Time.  |   你們永遠無法戰勝他。

"In the burrows of the Nightmare  |   “在那深入夢魘的溝穴中
        Where Justice naked is,  |   是赤裸的公道。
Time watches from the shadow  |   時間躲在陰影裏靜觀一切，
        And coughs when you would kiss.  |   在你們即將接吻時輕咳一聲。

"In headaches and in worry  |  “在頭痛和焦慮中
        Vaguely life leaks away,  |   生命模糊地漏失。
And Time will have his fancy  |   而時間之神將隨心所欲
        To-morrow or to-day.  |   不論明日或今天。

"Into many a green valley  |  “多少座青山綠谷中
        Drifts the appalling snow;  |  流淌的是那駭人的冰雪。
Time breaks the threaded dances  |   時間會打破那交織如膠的對舞
        And the diver's brilliant bow.  |   以及跳水者那優美的弧度。

"O plunge your hands in water,  |  “咄，將你們的雙手沒入水中吧，
        Plunge them in up to the wrist;  |   讓水浸上你們的雙腕。
Stare, stare in the basin  |   然後死死凝視那盆狀水底
        And wonder what you've missed.  |   領悟你們所錯過的一切。

"The glacier knocks in the cupboard,  |   “櫥櫃中有冰川在敲門，
        The desert sighs in the bed,  |   床中有沙漠在嘆息。
And the crack in the tea-cup opens  |   茶杯上那細細的裂痕會開啓
        A lane to the land of the dead.  |    一條通往冥府的路徑。

"Where the beggars raffle the banknotes  |   “在那兒，乞丐把銀票當彩票使用，
        And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,  |   巨魔取媚于童子。
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer  |   白如蓮花的男孩咆哮了一聲，
        And Jill goes down on her back.  |   女孩失足，背心著地。

"O look, look in the mirror,  |  “咄，看吧，看那鏡中，
        O look in your distress;  |  看那傷悲；
Life remains a blessing  |   生命依舊充滿了祝福
        Although you cannot bless.  |   但你卻祈福無果。

"O stand, stand at the window  |   “咄，站起來，佇立在窗邊
        As the tears scald and start;  |   當灼燙的淚珠溢出時，
You shall love your crooked neighbour  |  你亦將用你那顆畸形的心
        With your crooked heart."  |    愛上你那畸形的東鄰。”、
 
It was late, late in the evening,  |   此時日暮已深，
        The lovers they were gone;   |  戀人們不知去向。 
The clocks had ceased their chiming  |   時鐘早已停止了奏鳴
        And the deep river ran on.  |   河水一如既往地深深流淌。



* Written by W. H.  Auden in 1937. Original translation.