端午夏日游 看怎样和孩子一起逛北京

A kind woman let us enter her hutong home, which made up one side of a courtyard. The mistress of the house was so well off, she explained, she did not have to work. My jaded little New Yorkers were baffled. Two rooms for three people? A shared stove -- outside?帝 My husband and I attempted to turn this into a teachable moment, but the kids had moved on and were exclaiming over the mistress's pet cricket.
一位友善的妇女让我们走进了她在胡同里的家，这户人家占据了一座四合院的一边儿。那位妇女解释说，这家的女主人生活相当富足，她都无需工作。这让我们家善嘲讽的小纽约客们感到困惑不已。两个房间要住三个人？共用一个灶－－还是在外边？我和丈夫本想试着把此时此刻变成教育孩子们的好时机，但他们却已开始往前走并朝着女主人养的宠物蛐蛐大喊大叫起来。

To work off some of their energy, we raced up the steps of the Drum Tower, a 154-foot-tall structure built during the reign of Kublai Khan. As we arrived, 25 percussion students entered the hall, and in perfect unison pounded the hell out of 6-foot-wide drums. We had to rush off to an hour-long date that Remote Lands had scheduled with a master kite-maker. In his tiny kitchen, he taught the kids to make miniature kites by heating sticks of bamboo over a candle until they were pliable, then gluing on sheets of rice paper. Rain had cleared the sky of smog and the streets of muck, and in the quiet hutong, my children flew their painted masterpieces -- a butterfly, a dragon and a bird.
为了让他们消耗点儿精力，我们比赛跑上了鼓楼的台阶。这座高154英尺（46.7米）的建筑修建于忽必烈统治时期。当我们到那儿的时候，正赶上25名打击乐团的学生走进大厅，他们的乐器击打声与猛击六英尺（约1.8米）宽的鼓形成了完美的和鸣。我们还得急着赶去另一个时长一个小时的约会，那是远陆(Remote Lands)旅行社为我们安排的与一位风筝制作大师的会面。在大师狭窄的厨房里，他教了孩子们制作微型风筝：将竹棍置于烛火上烤，直到它变得柔韧易弯，然后糊上一张宣纸。雨水洗刷了天空中的雾霾，冲掉了街上的尘土污泥，在宁静的胡同里，我的孩子们放起了他们画出来的杰作－－一只蝴蝶，一条龙和一只鸟风筝。

At a corner store, while my husband took snaps of a ramshackle soda display, our 8-year-old, Malachi, reached into a basket for a tart yogurt drink he'd come to love. He took a sip from the straw, then made a sour face. 'Someone already drank it!' he yelled. Using their broken Mandarin, the children learned from the shopkeeper that Malachi had pulled the bottle from a recycling basket.
在一间位于拐角的店铺里，当我丈夫在抓拍一字摆开的苏打水时，我们8岁的儿子玛拉基(Malachi)将手伸进了一个篮子中、够到了一瓶酸奶饮品－－他觉得自己会非常喜欢喝。他用吸管吸了一口，然后一脸酸相。“这瓶有人喝过了！”他喊道。孩子们用蹩脚的中文从店主那里得知，那个瓶子是玛拉基书从废物回收的篮子里拣出来的。

We morbidly joke that Malachi's last words will be 'Hold my beer and watch this.' But he does make our family more intrepid. At the Wangfujing night bazaar, a street swarming with food stalls, tchotchke booths and shoe peddlers, he bought a ceramic 'tea boy' that was supposed to urinate once filled with hot water; when it didn't work, he negotiated for a new one. He convinced fruit vendors to let him try one of everything. At the Summer Palace, imperial gardens that date to the mid-1700s, he ignored guards' warnings to stop rock-hopping along the edge of a lake. What did he care -- he was 7,000 miles from home!
我们病态地开玩笑说，玛拉基的临终遗言将会是“帮我拿一下啤酒，看看这个。”但他确实让我们一家变得更加勇猛无畏了。在一条街满是小吃摊、小玩意儿地摊和卖鞋小贩的王府井夜市上，他买了一个本应该在加满热水后就开始尿尿的陶瓷制品“茶壶男孩”；结果因为不能用，他又去跟卖家周旋换了一个新的。他还说服了水果小贩，获准可以把每一种水果都拿一个尝尝。在18世纪中期修建的皇家园林颐和园中，他也无视保安的警告－－不要沿着湖边跳过石头。他才不管呢，他在乎的是－－他在距家7000英里（约合11,265公里）远的地方！

And unlike at home, in China we adopted some of his attitude. We jumped down the stairs of the ancient Bell Tower, across the street from the Drum Tower; we crashed a wedding reception at the Raffles Hotel.
不像在家里，在中国的时候我们接受了他的一些态度。我们从古代钟楼的楼梯上跳下来，从鼓楼出来横穿马路；还闯入了莱佛士大酒店(Raffles Hotel)里的一场婚宴。

On our final day in Beijing, a driver took us to one of the best-preserved sections of the Great Wall, Mutianyu. Navigating the market that lined the path from the parking lot took time: Malachi had to bargain for T-shirts, passion fruit and chess sets. (Our matching Communist Youth hats cost $1 each.) On the stairs of the wall, Talia declared, 'I am a great stepper!' though she later clarified that she wasn't the Queen of Walking. I put her on my shoulders as we made our way to the Schoolhouse, a former primary school where artists in residence can now blow glass or paint, and students learn to grow organic produce and cook it in the property's restaurants.
在北京的最后一天，一位司机载我们去了长城保存最完好的一段：慕田峪。从停车场出来，经过的道路两边都设有市场，从市场里寻路走过去花了我们不少时间。玛拉基得砍价买T恤、西番莲果和国际象棋棋具。（我们那些正好合乎脑袋大小的共青团帽每顶卖一美元。）在长城的阶梯上，塔莉娅宣布称：“我是名伟大的登高者！”尽管之后她又澄清道，自己真的不是徒步女王。在去小园餐厅(Schoolhouse)的路上，我就把她顶在自己肩上。这里曾经是所小学，现在居住于此的艺术家们则可以吹玻璃或者作画，而学生们也可以学习种植有机农产品并在其附属的餐厅里烹饪它们。

We scanned the menu at one, called the Canteen; there were no scorpions to be had. Across the brick courtyard, I made eye contact with another foreign mom. She winked and raised her glass. At that moment I was certain that, despite the language barrier, despite the used yogurt, despite the sometimes hectic schedule, seeing Beijing through my children's eyes was worth the inconveniences. And where else would I have the guts to eat a scorpion again?
我们不约而同地扫视了一下菜单，给餐厅打了电话；这里没有蝎子可以吃。透过砖瓦建成的四合院，我的目光与另一位外国母亲两两相对。她朝我眨眼示意并举起了玻璃杯。那一刻，我非常确定，尽管存在语言障碍，尽管酸奶已被人喝过，尽管行程有时匆忙紧凑，但让我的孩子们用自己的眼睛看看北京，受些罪也值得。再说，这世上还有什么地方能让我有胆量再吃一只蝎子呢？