The world does not need more magnificent mountains and rivers,
You don't need so many heroes and idols,
But we need to go further.
Ordinary and interesting soul,
Small and quiet place,
I learned the true meaning of life from them.
Text | Zhu Yujie
When I really want to travel, I will choose a small town.
When I say "real travel", I mean no purpose, no arrangement, no job, and I don't always want to make friends.
Because this town is very simple.
She has precipitated the most classic functions of the city, so you don't have to start the selection difficulty. The best scenery is on the street corner, and the best coffee is only this one;
She also retains the rural flavor, allowing you to enjoy a dessert with the same taste as the city. When you turn around, a squirrel tasting cherries is separated from you by a window.
The town can have no classic scenic spots or be stunning, but it must have its own unique temperament and interest.
She is not the main course on the table, and she will never be so dignified as to make people feel psychologically burdened. She is the last dessert, fragrant and sweet.
It's not a symphony, it's complex and grand enough for everyone to sit tight. It's a folk song, looming in the breeze. You shake your body and listen with one ear, not the other.
Although you walk into a small town without any presupposition, she won't let you down.
Wye Town is an ancient medieval town, located at the junction of England and Wales. Her transportation is inconvenient, and the nearest railway station is 35 kilometers away, but she has the unique premise of becoming a paradise.
In the early 1960s, Richard Booth, a graduate of Oxford University, could not bear to see more and more young people leave his beautiful hometown Haiyi. After graduation, he didn't go to the metropolis, but came back here, calling on his elders in his hometown to collect old books from all over the world, buying old cinemas and castles that haven't been demolished and turning them into second-hand bookstores.
On an April Fool's Day, Richard put on a paper crown, declared himself the "king" here, made his horse the "prime minister", and issued a "decree" to let local people abandon their cars and horses, creating a unique scholarly atmosphere in the town. For a time, this town became the focus of attention.
Richard firmly believes that "old books never die". He said, "Even if a book is unremarkable and not noticed by 99% people, there will always be 1% people who need it." Half a century later, people flocked to Hay for pilgrimage, looking for books in their hearts.
I paid a special visit to Richard when I was filming the first season of Zhu in England. His front door is flat and wide, and his old house is full of books. He is old and his hearing is deteriorating. He is still in high spirits when he mentions the process of opening his first bookstore that year.
Through many hills, endless wilderness and farms, Richard's "land" can be identified with his nose-
Old paper and ink float in the air when they see the sun again, which means the intimacy between the cover of old books and time.
Haiyi Town is very small, with a population of only 1000, but second-hand bookstores can be found everywhere. Stone houses of the George era and red brick houses of the Victorian era are preserved in the streets, and naivety is only found in fairy tales.
The medieval wooden window was wide open, and I couldn't help looking in, only to find that the window was full of books, which was actually a lovely "book window".
Some bookstores simply convert a part of the hollowed-out external walls into bookshelves. The old spines of books are all low walls and low tiles, and the gold-plated cursive characters shine among the old bricks and trees, which is better than any decoration.
This method really surprised me, so that when I was decorating my small home, I gave up the TV set, hollowed out the living room wall directly, put on the books I read most often, and leaned back on the sofa to enjoy the "book wall" when I got home, even if I didn't open them one by one, so I met the books I loved, which was enough to satisfy my body and mind.
Hay A small tent will be set up in front of every house, which is the owner's own second-hand bookstall. The wind in late spring and early summer gently blew up the white curtains of the tent, faintly showing the neat arrangement of old books.
People can't help but wonder how the owner met these books, how to read them word by word, and how to say goodbye word by word.
I once stopped in front of a beautiful book stall. The white book shed was under the wisteria hanging from the roof, like a graceful girl in a white skirt with flowers on her shoulders. She stood there like a telephone. I couldn't help but climb over the curtain and go in, and I happened to have a look at the vendor.
That is a middle-aged woman in a wisteria dress. She told me to wait as soon as her eyes lit up. Like the wind, she turned into the room, took out a book and solemnly handed it to me-
She has been waiting for you for a long time.
I have a look, it is the English version of Treasure written by Han, a British Chinese woman writer. I vaguely remember writing a story about a Eurasian female doctor and an American journalist who fell in love when China was just liberated.
"My mother was fascinated by the film adapted from this novel, so she found a novel to read. She said that when she was young, she liked an oriental boy, so she loved this book very much and often kept it at her bedside. She thought it was her story, too. " The woman looked at me and said, "I think this book should be passed on to an oriental."
I solemnly took it and held it in my hand. A corner of the blue book shell has been rubbed open, and love stories are still quietly flowing on the yellowed pages, as if the temperature of the old man's fingers is precipitating.
I like women's attitude towards books. Perhaps this is the accomplishment of a second-hand bookseller in Hay Town.
Old books are precious because of the story link between handlers and books, the night to accompany them to sleep, the time when they are moved by reading, the interweaving of life and books, and a happy encounter in their hearts.
Reading becomes pleasant and focused because of hay, and the town becomes meaningful because of reading.
I took this book to the old castle that Richard bought. This castle has a history of more than 800 years. It is gorgeous in appearance, with no extra decoration inside, only books. This is the only honest bookstore in town. Most of them are precious ancient books, including sheepskin bronzing and copperplate illustrations. This book is at least 100 years old.
There is no cash register in the bookstore, only a small iron suitcase with a pound of hardcover books and a fifty pence soft cover book written on it, which readers can choose at will. The price of ancient books is also reasonable, depending on their preciousness. ?
I sat in front of the wooden table on the balcony of the bookstore, ordered a cup of coffee, and bid farewell to the love and hate in reading in the sun. People come and go through bookshelves beside the stone steps under the castle. They have different skin colors, different ages and different faces. They all seemed focused and calm in front of books, and suddenly remembered a sentence from the British mathematician Barrow:
A person who loves books must have a loyal friend, a mentor, a lovely companion and a warm comforter.
So more than 6,543,800 tourists come to this small town not far from Wan Li every year. What are they looking for? Friends? Is it a teacher? Is it company or comfort?
Volunteers in the castle told me that Hay holds a cultural festival every year. Book lovers from all over the world will meet here. They look for books, read books and take part in various book-related activities. So far, the cultural festival has promoted 29 fans.
I think it must be 29 beautiful moments when I suddenly look back. When he (she) read aloud a favorite chapter of a book, some people in the crowd came to look for the voice in their ears, and their hearts were pounding: so you are here, too.
Looking for a book is probably looking for the person in your heart. This is a feeling that has been rehearsed countless times in my mind. You know it will appear at some point in my life, until the golden wind and jade dew meet and finally hear the amazing breath.
I wonder how many people feel today. Richard didn't go far away more than half a century ago, but returned to his original place.
That place may not be beautiful enough to accommodate all the ambitions of young people, but it can shine with full love.
When people say they love the land under their feet, have they ever thought about how we can love it?
Ten years ago, in the early spring, Pam heard that Tim Long couldn't stand the fact that the living environment in the town was getting worse and worse, and there was no sense of beauty at all. She called on the whole town to launch the "Unbelievable Tod Moden" activity, planting herbs, flowers and melons in every corner of the town.
From the front of the house to the supermarket parking lot, from the street corner to the park and even the cemetery, people pulled out those ugly spiny plants, planted corn and rosemary next to the police station, planted red currants and strawberries in the school, as well as cherries, mint, thyme and kale ...... until the whole town was full of fruits and vegetables, passers-by could pick them at will.
In just five years, the modern town of Todd became the first self-sufficient town in Britain, and people's yearning for Xanadu was deeply rooted in their genes.
Todd Modern is a small town in West Yorkshire, England. I was just passing by, but I was attracted by her smug temperament and couldn't bear to leave, so I decided to stay for one night.
I chose a homestay with apple trees in the courtyard. The apple trees are in full bloom and full of colorful flowers. The landlord is an old lady in her early 70 s, with snow-white hair, straight back and crisp voice like an apple.
Sitting in the courtyard drinking tea, its own clusters of berries add fragrance and flavor, and pots of golden lotus are free, as if they were born in the field, and the breeze blows fresh coriander, which is refreshing. It's really a waste of time not to read a few pages at this time.
There is no fence in the homestay, so the plants in the small yard can't stop and flock to the street, blending with the vegetable fields in the whole street. The old lady carefully planted a little Mu brand in the garden, which read:
Please don't just pull out half a dish, it will be a waste and sad thing. Take the whole thing away and enjoy it!
From time to time, pedestrians send melons and fruits from home, and the old lady quickly picks fresh lemons and mint as gifts, and does not forget to discuss a few new cooking experiences.
Neighbors pick carrots from the yard at noon and send hot carrot cakes in the afternoon. The old lady gave it to me on a white porcelain plate.
The cake is moist, dense, sweet and fragrant, like spring breeze, which surrounds the whole town and brings people back to that small-scale peasant landscape.
So that spring afternoon, the time in the town turned into a slowly flowing "Peach Blossom Garden", and I became ignorant of Wei and Jin Dynasties and my thoughts were wandering.
I think, Todd, modern people are expressing their love for their homeland.
They tell the world that the so-called love for a piece of land is to integrate one's words and deeds into her grass and trees to make her more beautiful, which may be a dream and poetry in ordinary life.
The small town has this ability, which makes the world naturally adapt to her rhythm and live in peace with time.
The existence of many small towns is like an opening.
There was a time when I was in a career bottleneck and didn't know where to go. At the suggestion of my friend, I got to know Whitby Town.
The day when I visited Whitby was just after the rain stopped. You can see the Esco River (? Esk River), instantly swept away the haze in my heart.
The sparkling river is more charming because of the rain, which makes me too late to put down my luggage and walk along the river until I reach the North Sea seaside.
The ocean has made Whitby's space vast and rich, as if it had made a covenant with nature. The small town has a happy geography and psychology, as well as a moist and rich character.
The Esco River divides the town into east and west banks. Countless small houses are built on the water. The red roof is tilted, like an old man fishing by the sea, wearing a red hat and smiling at you.
The small pier is always busy and full of fresh seafood.
A series of medieval stone streets spread from the depths of alleys to the port, and then were taken over by colorful small fishing boats, taking people's footprints to further places.
The highest point in the town is Whitby Abbey. This monastery, built in 1 1 century, was bombed in the war, and now only an empty skeleton remains.
When I really approached, I found that the broken part was still vigorous, the sea breeze roared and rubbed against broken walls, the ochre bricks in the scars were still closely connected, and the carving of the side decoration of the arch did not decrease, which made people more convinced of the majestic posture of the monastery.
The cemetery in front of the monastery is buried with the dead sailors and fishermen in the town. The sailors here are famous for their bravery. As early as18th century, Captain james cook started his sailing career as an apprentice here. Later, he joined the Royal Navy and led the crew to become the first Europeans to land on the east coast of Australia and the Hawaiian Islands.
I wonder if Captain Cook would lean on the solid remains of the monastery and face the sea before departure, watching the lighthouse flicker in the thick sea fog. Little teenagers get the courage to move forward from here.
On the cliff on the west side of Whitby, stands an arch made of two whale bones. According to legend, whenever fishermen catch whales, they will shave off two huge fish bones and stand at the bow. The relatives on the shore saw the fishbone far away and learned that the trip was fruitful and the family was safe.
Now, there are still old people and children walking under the fishbone arch, wishing people who work at sea peace and success.
Twilight arrival, fishing boats return, flocks of waterfowl tirelessly hovering in the twilight headland, from time to time across the cliffs and red roofs on both sides.
Thousands of lights are lit up one by one, and people get together, have a good meal, recuperate and prepare to start again.
For centuries, the waves have been beating the town, and it has never let it sway. I walked on the long bank of the town and suddenly felt an indescribable stability and sureness.
The sea level is deep and quiet, and countless viewers are ecstatic, anxious, hopeful or fearful because of it. They don't know that in the twilight of the fishing village facing the sea, they can only see a moment of eternal peace.
It suddenly occurred to me that maybe what I want is not business, not seclusion, but accepting all possible "fishing village twilight"
Every time I come back from a different town, my spirit is extraordinarily rich. The simplicity of a small town can always make people forget the dust and noise on the surface of life and get a glimpse of what they really want.
Perhaps the world does not need more magnificent mountains and rivers, nor so many heroes and idols, but we need to really approach more ordinary and interesting souls, small but quiet places, and learn the true meaning of life, beauty and satisfaction from them.
Because all the roads in this world will eventually point to life itself.