2017年11月18日 星期六

葡萄牙民族性格鬱鬱寡歡(轉載自BBC)

 

埃里克•維納 (Eric Weiner)2016年 12月 23日   http://www.bbc.com/ukchina/trad/vert-tra-38420759

Image copyright S. Forster/Alamy Image caption 里斯本、Fado民謠歌手紀念碑

作為一個美國人,從小就被人灌輸無論遇到什麼事情都要高高興興-或者至少假裝高興。無論是據說於1963年在美國發明的微笑表情符號,還是"祝你度過美好一天",都是美國人天生樂觀主義的寫照。
但在葡萄牙,可能沒人會祝你快樂,也沒人在乎你是不是真的高興。這是因為,這一天他們自己的日子也許也過得不怎麼樣。你要是問一個葡萄牙人他日子過得好不好,最好的答覆也不過是"還湊合"(maisoumenos)而已。


Image copyright Sean Pavone/Alamy Image caption 葡萄牙人具有鬱鬱寡歡的民族性格。

葡萄牙人具有鬱鬱寡歡的民族性格。很多人的臉色陰沉無光-這點和有"微笑之國"美譽的泰國形成了鮮明對比-里斯本市民廣場上的塑像也都有著凝重的面部表情。多數國家都把這種表情視為一種男子堅毅氣概(一般只針對男性)的象徵,然而在葡萄牙,陰鬱的面龐卻是多愁善感的詩人的標誌。

葡萄牙是一個缺點幸福感的國家。在聯合國最新的全球幸福指數報告的157個國家中,葡萄牙僅排名第93位。但是,也別因此而對葡萄牙人心生憐憫。葡萄牙人善於苦中作樂,並且樂在其中。有人想當然地把葡萄牙人當成是受虐狂,但是你如果像我一樣在葡萄牙呆上一段時間,你就會發現,葡萄牙人憂鬱的性格背後實際上蘊藏著無限的美好和快樂。

葡萄牙語詞匯saudade的唯一含義是"悲中有樂"。除葡萄牙語外,沒有任何其他語言有這樣一個精凖的詞匯對這一概念加以描述。我曾經請許多葡萄牙人翻譯這個單詞,但他們都異口同聲地說,這個詞沒法翻譯。


Image copyright Eye Ubiquitous/Getty Image caption 就連里斯本的雕塑也有著凝重的面部表情。

"Saudade"是指,對於曾經帶來過極端快樂的人、地方或體驗感到惆悵。它的含義和"懷舊"有點類似,但是和懷舊不同的是,某人可以為從未發生過,以後也不會發生的事物而產生"saudade"的情緒。

Saudade的核心是巨大的空虛感和失落感。學者奧博力•貝爾(Aubrey Bell)在他的《葡萄牙見聞錄》(In Portugal)一書中寫道,"Saudade是一種對某種當前並不存在的事物抱有的隱晦而持續的渴望。"

一天,我和出版商何塞•普拉塔(Jose Prata)在里斯本繁忙的Cais do Sodre市場共進午餐。他告訴我說,"人們可以對任何事物-甚至一隻雞感到saudade。前提是這只雞的某種特質吸引了你。"

葡萄牙人容忍甚至喜歡saudade的原因是,"這是一種可以彼此分享的情感,"普拉塔解釋說。"我會在飯桌上告訴你我的煩惱。"在葡萄牙,這指的是很多人圍坐在一起的大桌子。一位葡萄牙廚師甚至獨創了一種直接以"Saudade"命名的巧克力系列。你猜對了,它的味道就是甜中帶苦。

一天,我在里斯本市中心Largo de Camões廣場喝特濃咖啡時碰到了臨牀心理學家瑪麗安娜•米蘭達(Mariana Miranda)。對於想了解葡萄牙人"悲中有樂"情感的我,向這位專家提問是再適合不過的了。

她告訴我,悲傷是我們生活中一個重要的組成部分。她不能理解為什麼有人總是在該哭的時候強顏歡笑。

"每個人都應該體驗各種心理感受,為什麼只用一種色彩去畫畫?"她說,強顏歡笑讓我們迷失了自我。"悲傷也是一種美。"



Image copyright Alberto Manuel UrosaToledano/Getty Image caption Largo de Camões廣場是為紀念葡萄牙最偉大的詩人而建。這位詩人很多詩作的主題都是saudade。

另一天,我遇到了朋友的朋友,一位態度和藹,名叫"羅密歐"的警察。他告訴我,所有日子,無論快樂還是哀傷,他都安然若素。他說,面對一個鬱鬱寡歡的葡萄牙人,最不該做的事情就是嘗試讓他高興起來。

"某天你心情不好,你也不想假裝高興,"他說。"但是辦公室裏的人都在想辦法讓你高興起來,你會告訴他們'別打攪我,我今天心情不好。'"

好多項研究都表明,葡萄牙人的民族性格實際上大有益處。2008年在《實驗社會心理學雜誌》(Journal of Experimental Social Psychology)發表的一篇論文稱,情緒低落會提高人的記憶力。澳大利亞心理學家及第一作者約瑟夫•弗加斯(Joseph Forgas)稱,與晴天相比,在天光晦暗的下雨天,人們會回憶起他們曾在商店裏看到的某件商品的更多細節。同一份雜誌刊登的另一篇論文則認為,情緒低落有助於提高決斷力。實驗中,安排受試者觀看盜竊案嫌疑人的陳述錄像,然後找出誰在撒謊。當天情緒不佳的受試者更容易發現哪些嫌疑人撒了謊。

就連憂鬱的音樂也會帶來益處。《Plos One》雜誌發表的一篇論文中,柏林自由大學的科學家們調查了世界各地772人後,發現曲調憂鬱的音樂"有緩解聽眾不良情緒的效果。"科學家史蒂芬•科爾西(Stefan Koelsch)和麗拉•塔如菲(LiilaTaruffi)得出結論認為,憂鬱的音樂不僅能夠幫助人們"調理"不良情緒,還能夠激發想像力和"一系列複雜而帶有激昂色彩的情緒。"有趣的是,不同文化下,憂鬱音樂所到來的益處也不盡相同。對於歐洲和北美人,憂鬱音樂所引發的最強烈情緒為"懷舊",而對於亞洲人則是"平和"。

名為Fado民謠的憂鬱音樂是葡萄牙一個專門的音樂門類,這一點無人能及。Fado在葡萄牙語裏的含義是"命運"或"運勢":我們必須接受自己的命運,哪怕命運很殘酷,我們也要勇敢地去面對。

這一音樂類型最早可以追溯到200年前里斯本窮困衰敗的勞工階層聚居區。最早的一批fado民謠歌手是漁民的妻子們。她們在丈夫出海失蹤後被迫淪入風塵。換句話說,這一音樂類型最早就起源於悲苦的人生。

今天,fado民謠已經成了葡萄牙的招牌音樂。無論你走到哪裏:電台裏、音樂廳裏、尤其里斯本數十家fido民謠酒吧裏,都會聽到並且感受到它的存在。一天傍晚,我走進一家位於里斯本Chiado區,名為Duque da Rua的小酒吧。酒吧的裝潢樸實無華,多數歌手都是業餘出演-比如Marco Henriques就是這樣:他白天是一位農藝學家,晚上則到酒吧演唱以增加收入。


Image copyright age fotostock/Alamy Image caption 里斯本到處都飄蕩著Fado民謠歌聲,尤其是幾十家Fado酒吧。

他告訴我,有些fado歌手擁有天使般優美的嗓音,有些人的嗓音條件則很一般。"哪怕你嗓音條件不好,也能成為一位偉大的fido歌手,"他說,"fido是一種源自心靈的音樂。"

聽著fido民謠,我有一種壓抑和解脫兩相交織的奇怪感受。之所以壓抑,是因為這種音樂明顯具有憂鬱的旋律,我的一位葡萄牙朋友翻譯給我的歌詞也不例外。之所以解脫,是因為音樂讓我從煩愁的情緒中超脫出來而毫無留戀。Fado民謠讓我對自己的憂愁煩惱樂在其中。

幾天過後,在里斯本西南方向30公里的海濱小城Estoril,我遇到了知名度很高,同時也是少數能夠通過音樂養活自己的fado民謠歌手庫卡•羅賽塔(Cuca Roseta)。她告訴我,在每次演出"奉獻我自己之前"之前,她都要利用片刻時間來祈禱。"這是一種奉獻自己的音樂。它是來自你自身情感的禮物,它來自你的內心深處。"

羅賽塔是新一代fado民謠歌手的代表。新fado民謠的旋律和傳統fado民謠一樣憂鬱婉轉,但歌詞卻有著些許的樂觀意味。這是否是葡萄牙"悲中有樂"的民族性格正在發生變化的標誌?希望不是。

原文http://www.bbc.com/travel/story/20161118-the-european-country-that-loves-being-sad



  • By Eric Weiner
  • 29 November 2016


    As an American, I’ve been inculcated with the importance of being happy – or at least pretending to be happy – at all costs. It’s an ethos epitomized by the smiley face emoji, which is said to have been invented in the US in 1963, and empty expressions like “have a nice day”. 

    In Portugal, no one tells you to have a nice day. No one particularly cares if you have a nice day, because chances are they’re not having a nice day either. If you ask a Portuguese person how they’re doing, the most enthusiastic reply you can expect is mais ou menos (so so).

    Portugal’s culture of melancholy is hard to miss. You see it etched on people’s sombre expressions – this is no Thailand, known as the Land of Smiles – and even in the statues that occupy prime real estate in Lisbon’s public squares. In most countries, the men (and it’s almost always men) honoured in such places are macho generals. In Portugal, it’s moody poets.

    Yes, Portugal is a sad land, ranking 93rd of 157 countries (just behind Lebanon), according to the UN’s latest World Happiness Report. But don’t pity the Portuguese. They’re content with their discontentment, and, in an odd but enlightening way, actually enjoy it. It’s easy to assume that the Portuguese are masochists, but if you spend some time here, as I did recently, you quickly realize that the Portuguese have much to teach us about the hidden beauty, and joy, in sadness.

    Portugal’s “joyful sadness” is encapsulated in a single word: saudade. No other language has a word quite like it. It is untranslatable, every Portuguese person assured me, before proceeding to translate it.

    Saudade is a longing, an ache for a person or place or experience that once brought great pleasure. It is akin to nostalgia but, unlike nostalgia, one can feel saudade for something that’s never happened, and likely never will.

    At the heart of saudade lies a yawning sense of absence, of loss. Saudade, writes scholar Aubrey Bell in his book In Portugal, is “a vague and constant desire for something... other than the present.”
    It is possible to feel saudade for anything, publisher Jose Prata told me over lunch one day at Lisbon’s bustling Cais do Sodre market. “You can even feel saudade for a chicken,” he said, “but it has to be the right chicken.”
    At the heart of saudade lies a yawning sense of absence, of loss
    What makes saudade tolerable, pleasant even, is that “it is a very sharable feeling,” Prata explained. “I’m inviting you to share at the table of my sadness.” In Portugal, that’s a big table with room for everyone. In fact, a Portuguese chef has even started a line of chocolate called “Saudade”. Naturally, it is bittersweet.

    One day, while sipping an espresso at the Largo de Camões public square in central Lisbon, I met Mariana Miranda, a clinical psychologist. This was the perfect person, I realized, to explain Portugal’s joyful sadness.

    Sadness is an important part of life, she told me, adding that she can’t understand why anyone would avoid it.

    “I want to feel everything in every possible way. Why paint a painting with only one colour?” By avoiding sadness at all costs, she said, we diminish ourselves. “There is actually lot of beauty in sadness.”

    Another day, I met a genial police inspector name Romeu, a friend of a friend. He has happy days and sad days, he said, and he welcomes both equally. In fact, when confronted with an unhappy Portuguese person, he explained, the worst thing you can do is try to cheer him up.

    “You’re sad and you want to be sad,” he said. “You’re at the office and people are trying to cheer you up, and you say ‘Don’t make me cheerful. Today is my pleasurable sadness day.’”
    Several studies suggest that the Portuguese are onto something. One study, published in 2008 in the Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, found that sadness improves our memory. On gloomy, rainy days, people recalled details (of objects they had seen in a shop) more vividly than on bright sunny days, according to Australian psychologist and lead author Joseph Forgas. Another study in the same journal suggests sadness improves judgment. Participants were asked to watch videotaped statements of people accused of theft and figure out who was lying. The participants experiencing negative emotions at the time were able to more accurately identify the deceptive suspects.

    Even sad music has its benefits. Researchers from the Free University of Berlin surveyed 772 people around the world and found that sad music “can actually lead to beneficial emotional effects,” according to the study, published in the journal Plos One. It does this, researchers Stefan Koelsch and Liila Taruffi believe, by enabling people to “regulate” negative moods. Sad music also fires the imagination and evokes “a wide range of complex and partially positive emotions,” they concluded. Interestingly, the positive benefits of sad music were experienced differently among different cultures. For Europeans and North Americans, the strongest emotion that sadness induced was nostalgia, while for Asians it was peacefulness.

    No one does sad music like the Portuguese. In particular, fado music is melancholy set to a melody. Fado means literally “destiny” or “fate”, and therein lays its sad beauty. We must accept our fate, even if it’s cruel, especially if it’s cruel.

    The genre took root nearly two centuries ago in hardscrabble, working-class neighbourhoods of Lisbon. The first fado singers, or fadistas, were prostitutes and the wives of fishermen who may or may not return from sea. In other words, people on a first-name basis with suffering.

    Today, fado is the soundtrack of life in Portugal. You hear it – and feel it – everywhere: on the radio, in concert halls and, most of all, in Lisbon’s several dozen fado houses. One evening, I dropped by one, a tiny place called Duque da Rua, tucked away in the city’s Chiado district. There's nothing slick about this sort of fado house. The singers are mostly amateurs – people like Marco Henriques, who works as an agronomist by day and tends bar in the club in the evening to help make ends meet.
    Some fado singers have beautiful, angelic voices, he told me, while others do not. “You can have a bad voice and be a great fado singer,” he said, “because fado comes from the heart.”

    Listening to the music, I felt an odd combination of melancholy and relief. Melancholy, because the music was undeniably morose, as were the lyrics, which a Portuguese friend translated for me. Relief, because, for once, I felt no compunction to squelch or deny my sadness. Fado gave me permission to honour my shadow self.

    A few days later, in the seaside town of Estoril, 30km southwest of Lisbon, I met Cuca Roseta, a popular fado singer who is one of the few able to earn a living from her music. She prepares for each performance with a minute of silence, a sort of prayer, “before giving myself”, she told me. “This is music where you give yourself. It’s a gift of your emotions and it’s very intimate.”

    Roseta represents a new generation of fado singers. The melody is just as melancholic as traditional fado, but the lyrics are subtly optimistic. A sign perhaps that Portugal’s love affair with “joyful sadness” is beginning to wane? I sure hope not.
    ------------------------------------------------------------------------

    Reference:

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    Source:  https://www.cbsnews.com/news/ancient-town-with-giant-waves-nazare-portugal-with-garrett-mcnamara-60-minutes-2019-09-01/