More than ten years ago, when I entered the French department of the university, my foreign teacher was Alain from Digne, Provence, in the highlands. The sons of Provence farmers who were born and raised did not know the inspiration there. They chose to study Chinese at the University of Aix, and then came to China to obtain such a two-year temporary teaching chair at the Education Office of the Consulate.
The first time he heard Provence and Manausque was the movie he showed us, the Hussard on the roof (Le Hussard sur le toit), we who still don’t understand much, faced the colors and magnificent scenery, it was already shocked. . The world outlined by Giono removes the poetry of Provence itself, as well as Stendhal’s heroism and chivalry. So in the black shadow of the cholera plague, under the bright light and shadow of Provence, Angelo and Paulina ride a horse forever. Engraved into my indelible French memory, along with the place names with these correct words, Manausque, Aix.
Alain has always been proud of his hometown. Later, the movie shown to us is the memoirs of Provençal writer Marcel Bagnol. The mother’s castle and father’s pride are now translated sensationally on the Internet as goodbye to the sun. It was the memories and childhood scenes of the little Marcel's summer vacation in Provence. The other two Bagnol are Jean de Florette, Manon des sources. It tells about the crimes in the small village of Provence, the final curtain call of Yves Montand, and Emmanuel Bea, who became popular in France because of this.
Therefore, we were infected like this to love Provence. At that time, there was no lavender trip, no Peter Mayer, and no dream of wanting grandma. The pictures Alan brought with him were rough and heavy landscapes, huts built on chaotic rocks, dead branches roaring in the northwest mountain breeze, and vines and flowers peeling off under the mottled window lattices. When Alan's chair expired, it was An Zhou, who grew up in the 16th arrondissement of Paris, who came to replace him. From his behavior to his accent, he was a person from two worlds. But he always remembered us, even after going back to France, four years of university, every year around Christmas we will receive his postal package from Digne, there will always be chocolates in it, and there are small books that are suitable for us from the second-hand book market. pictorial. In fact, I learned later that he was unemployed at that time, and while receiving some relief, he was doing odd jobs.
When I came to France, I had several phone calls with him. There were rumors on the road between Touraine and Provence, and there was no direct train, so I never saw it. Later, I received his email and learned that he finally got rid of it. After the unemployment nightmare, I went to the Far East and got a teaching position at Kyoto University. After that, we were separated and the audio was cut off. I have always wanted to go to Manausk, but it took so long for more than ten years.
The moment when the hope of the heart is finally fulfilled, the huge gap between reality and dream will always come, and Manausk can't escape such rules. When I walked through its huge gate, I realized that this is no longer the old city where Angelo was haunted on the roof of the fountain as described by Giono (although I have checked it a long time ago, the scene where JP Rappeneau filmed the Hussar movie is actually not here at all. But in the small village named Cucuron in Luberon, what a hilarious name God). Today, Manausk is full of small shops for North African Moorish immigrants. The small streets are filled with the smell of mutton from Kebab, and Muslims with turbans and veils come and go from time to time. Only the presence of southern-style mansions and hues on the streets from time to time can awaken some of the old meaning, but under such glorious buildings, there are garbage and dirt everywhere, and the wind is full of ambiguous and unclean smells. The old house where Giono was born is now a pharmacy (I think of the big pharmacy in Dulan, which was originally the former residence of Balzac). The only thing that can prevent me from getting really frustrated outside the old city is the small house rebuilt from his childhood home. In the museum, through the corridor of various posters, there is a small garden outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of dark wood grain.
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