1. 画面背景的平房不是四合院,这类平房属于北京京郊或农村院落的建筑格局。十几年前,偶尔可以在二环三环之间(例如农科院附近)见到这类建筑。城区的老四合院不用红砖,房顶的瓦也不是这种类型。
2. 画面左侧边上是个修车铺,门口停了辆摩托。这种摩托车只能在城乡结合部看到。另外,北京城区早已不发放新摩托车牌照了。
3. 路边私搭乱建的小棚子。这种沿街私建的小棚,北京二环以内多少年前就看不到了,更别说有七百年历史的老胡同了。
4. 路面没有铺柏油而路边又没有因为修路堆积的土石。北京的胡同都是柏油马路。
5. 除了骑车带小孩的妇女我不太确定,画面里其他人都不是北京土著。
我承认这是一张真实的照片,它的确来自我的祖国——中国。但是照片阴暗视角配合尖酸的文字却包藏着不可告人的目的。
它想告诉世界,这就是奥运前夕真实的北京:堆积如山的瓦砾,破烂的街道,晾在街道边上花花绿绿的衣裤和行人漠然的眼神。照片上几位主角,目光都集中在同一个方向,那里似乎正在发生着什么。作者其实在悄悄提醒读者,画面以外就是即将到来的北京奥运:无论你看到多么盛大的场面,多么光鲜的街市和多么友好的面孔,一切都是伪装。这张照片才是真实的北京。
作为一个中国人,作为一个北京人,我要告诉世界,这是一个谎言!
请见后附《时代周刊》原文和链接。
Thursday,Jul. 31, 2008
Postcard: Beijing
ByAustin Ramzy
The sound of the Olympic games for me has always been John Williams'OlympicFanfare and Theme. But since this spring those strains have beenreplaced bythe clack and crumble of workmen with pickaxes leveling a walloutside mywindow at dawn.
In 2007 I moved into a quiet hutong, a traditional narrow lane linedwithcourtyard houses, in eastern Beijing.SinceApril, the city's Olympic buzz has reached deafening proportions. In aperiod ofmonths, my district, laid out 700 years ago during the Ming dynasty,saw lanesrepaved, streetlights installed, sewage lines overhauled, roofsrepaired, doorspainted, windows replaced and rooms that had been haphazardlyadded onto oldhomes demolished and rebuilt in a traditional style. Piles ofconstructiondebris filled the streets; antique wooden eaves with hand-paintedfloralpatterns were left out as scrap.
The hubbub produced no shortage of inconvenience for the two dozen familiesIshare a courtyard with. The work went on for weeks; sewer repairs meantwalkingthrough a ditch to leave one's door; the dust was so heavy that aspringsandstorm came and left without our noticing. But the occasionalgrumbles couldnever sink the enthusiasm of my neighbors. I came home one dayto find oneperched precariously on his roof, sawing away. "For theOlympics," hesaid with a grin. At a party in February, I asked severalneighbors their hopesfor the coming year; the most popular response was for asuccessful Games.Clearly, fixing up our courtyard was key to that. "Thework here isn't justgood for us," says my neighbor Feng Huiming, whoworks at the local postoffice. "It's good for the world."
It is with that sense of purpose that Beijinghasspent the past seven years transforming itself. The city added roughly 85miles(about 140 km) of subway and rail lines and a huge airport terminal.Fortymillion pots of flowers and 22 million trees were planted. As many as1.5million people were forcibly relocated. Some, like the Yu family, who ranasnack shop north of the Forbidden City, hungon till the very end, wrapping theirstructure in flags and photos of Chineseleaders in hopes it might stop thewrecking ball. It didn't. Less than 48 hoursafter the store was demolished tomake way for a park, the spot where it stoodwas a flower bed.
Other problems aren't as easily covered up. Beijingspent more than $17 billion toimprove its environment, but days before theGames, the air is still a toxichaze. Even with new laws taking more than halfthe city's cars off the road,the addition of Olympic VIP lanes has left trafficnearly as bad as ever.
Some Beijingers have opted to leave town on what's jokingly calledabiyuntao--"avoid Olympics package"--which rhymes with theChineseword for condom. Others, including huge numbers of migrant workers, havebeenforced out. A group of builders from Sichuanwholived in our courtyard while refurbishing the neighborhood left recently,takingtheir coal cooking stove and pet kitten with them. A few blocks away,restaurantowner Liu Ruilin complains that some of his best customers are gone."Ithought the Olympics were going to be good for business," hesays."But lots of outsiders are leaving."
In the weeks preceding the Games, authorities have closed clubs andbars,blocked concerts and other public gatherings and put an increasing numberofarmed police on the streets. Some of my neighbors have even been recruitedasvolunteer public-security monitors. They sport red-and-white poloshirtsbearing the logo of a Beijingbeercompany and sit by the street, watching for trouble.
That's the closest most of them will come to seeing the Olympics inperson."We have no access to tickets," says Feng. "And even ifwe did,we couldn't afford them." An Olympic slogan repeated onbillboardsthroughout the city reads I PARTICIPATE; I CONTRIBUTE; I'M HAPPY.After monthsof participating and contributing, the people in this corner of thecapitalwill have to be happy catching the Games, as the rest of the world does,athome on television.
Global Dispatch For a new postcard from around the world every day, visit time.com
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,,00.html