Last month, on October 17, I watched the film "Bath", starring Mr. Zhu Xu, at the Film Archive. The 1999 movie, the big screen of Xiaoxitian, has a yellowish tone and crackles and noises. My impression of this film is still when I was very young, the figures of three men in CCTV6. The old man Zhu Xu smiled in the middle, Jiang Wu smirked on the right, and Pu Cunxin smiled on the left.
The "Qingshuitang" in the hutongs of old Beijing, walking in, is very lively. The regulars get to know each other, play chess, chat, fight crickets; take a bath, rub their backs, and hum a little song. He is seeking refuge in the bathhouse, Miao Zhuang is trying his courage in the bathhouse, and Da Wu is comforted in the bathhouse. Er Ming and Lao Liu, one with limited intelligence and the other over sixty years old, rely on each other and live in the bathhouse. The flop opens in the morning, accompanied by radio gymnastics for cleaning, and provides guests with a one-stop service of bathing, back, shaving and beard. Running through the park at night, running a race on the last leg, and then jokingly running before the count to three. The rubbing bath, for the guests, Er Ming or Lao Liu, this lively place accompanied by hot mist has long been a spiritual sustenance.
Daming seemed to be an outsider to these. In the end, he didn't take a bath in Qingshuitang until Lao Liu died in a deep sleep in the bathhouse, when the bathhouse was demolished, and the entire alley was razed to the ground. A quick shower might be more in line with the modern, fast pace than a time-consuming bath.
When watching a movie, unexpectedly, the comfortable days spent in the bath, and even the passing of those comfortable days, always evokes memories of the past. A self-contained and unique memory.
My hometown is rich in geothermal heat, and hot springs can be said to be a must-have holy place everywhere. The holy place in our place is called "Bang Nazhang". It seems to be in the Dai language, which means that there are places where elephants are haunted. Bang Nazhang is low-lying, close to the river, and the trees are prosperous. The whole area is filled with a faint smell of sulfur. I heard from the older generation that in the past, the Bangnazhang hot springs were rich in water, and they went to the river to dig a half-deep hole.
By the time I went to soak, self-digging hot springs was not fashionable anymore. Each family and unit contracted out small and large pieces of land and built simple bathhouses, with small pools and public bathhouses running in parallel. Most of the huge high-temperature boiling pots are sealed with asbestos tiles, and there are stories that the cows are instantly boiled into beef soup when they are stepped on. There are still a few big pots left, people put eggs and ham sausages in, boil them and eat them. Eggs that have been boiled for more than 24 hours will have a marinated flavor and can be stored for a week without spoilage.
Before I was in the third grade of elementary school, every winter my family’s activity was to bring pots and pans and move to Bangnazhang during the Spring Festival holiday, renting a room or two to live there. Very cheap price, cook for yourself, take a bath for free. Every day we live is to take a bath, eat, bask in the sun and sleep.
Adults wear clothes that are easy to put on and take off, and go to the bathhouse to take a comfortable bath whenever they want. When they are tired, they get up and go back to their room to take a nap. When I got up, in the afternoon, I cooked some small meals. There were wild vegetables on the mountain, and the relatives who lived next to me had pickles made by themselves. After doing a good job of sharing some points with each other, and then knocking on an egg that has been boiled in hot spring water, consider whether to go cupping tomorrow.
At that time, there were many large bathhouses. Up to seventy years old, down to three or four years old, regardless of age, they soaked together in a huge pool, steaming and dimly lit. The older auntie always stripped naked without hesitation, and whether she knew it or not, she casually leaned on the side of the hall and chatted. From time to time, he praised the hot spring water: "Look at this water, it is jade green, then duck egg green, and then rice soup is white. It's not good water." And young girls are always in company, hesitant and hesitant. She walked down the bathroom half-shyly, sat down and was ridiculed by the aunt next to her: "You still wear so much in the bath."
Think about it, at that time there were always a bunch of children playing together, picking up snake skins and soaking them in the water under the sour tree, simulating snake wine; picking reeds and jumping rocks by the river, and waiting for wet clothes without any accident Go back and be scolded; put the bird's nest you picked up back on the tree, and see if any birds fly back every day. Those days in the heat of the heat are a rare memory for me.
In the third grade, Bonna Palm began to renovate and was acquired by the group for renovation. Large areas of houses were torn down, and farmers who used to build their own houses for a living were driven away. Later, the capital chain broke, and the construction was delayed for a time. The bathhouses, large and small, are exposed to the sun, the light is no longer dark, and the heat is no longer dense.
The funding chain has been broken for so long, and renovations have dragged on for so long that some people are starting to creep back into the ruins. As if trying to survive in the cracks, I pulled up some cloth around the original bathhouse, separated my vision, and then took a bath. Surprisingly, there are still many people willing to take a bath in such a simple black bath. Pay a few bucks and take a bath. "The house is gone, but at least the water is still as good. You see, it's better to release the jade green and then duck egg green, and then the rice soup will be white." Yes, close your eyes, it seems that you can go back there again It's time to eat, sleep and take a bath.
Later, the new company took over Bangnazhang and built it again vigorously. The cloth next to the bathhouse was immediately integrated with the ruins. Then, a luxury consumption place grew up on the ruins, and hot springs are no longer the daily enjoyment of ordinary people. Sprinkle with milk, herbs or flowers, modeled after the Japanese onsen construction. There are more and more things on the hot spring, but the hot spring water itself is ignored. "I heard that they made a hole in the mountain. Can the mountain move? It's like a big steamer inside. It ran away when it was pierced. Look, the water in the big pot is not coming out." "This is the water. , and it is not the water it used to be.”
When Qingshuitang was demolished, Erming stood in the center of the bathroom, holding the tape recorder that Miao Zhuang had given him, and sang "My Sun" vaguely and boldly. Accompanied by the music, the old alley was destroyed with vigour and a new high-rise building was greeted.
When the workers came to move the things from Qingshuitang, Erming took the water pipe as a weapon, and irritated everyone who came running. And I, who moved to a new city in the first grade, faced the passing era of Bang Nazhang, and all I did was a sigh in agreement.
There are also articles written to commemorate the era of bathing more than ten years later.
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