去過很多次日本，從南到北幾乎每個城市都去過，但是，至今依然感到日本的陌生。也許我不懂日本，而日本人英語真的交流困難。每當想到這點，我便把不懂日本跟我懂古巴、冰島相比較，因為我懂英文和西班牙文，可以隨意與當地人交流。其實，還是文化習俗的問題，日本人比較認生，也不太容易短時間交往熟絡，所以只是去拍片子認識一些人自然就不如古巴和冰島那麼聊很多，很深入。
因為拍“夢”系列作品中的“夢域”，其中主要故事拍攝地除了古巴、臺北、香港，東京也是

其中一個。它給我的感覺是匆忙而冷酷的城市，地鐵中上下班疲憊的人群，街道上趕路的人，夜晚餐館裡一個人靜靜地吃著晚餐人，還有各處看到的咖啡館，那裡總是聚集著很多人，似乎與東京的冷漠形成對比。在東京拍攝的日子裡，經常遇到雨天，我也覺得雨天拍出的片子更貼近我的話題。咖啡館便是我常去的地方，在那裡避雨，找個靠窗的位子坐下，鏡頭可以隨時捕捉外面的畫面。

有一次朋友約我7點多去一家咖啡館吃早餐，那天早上下著雨。出了地鐵站，細雨霏霏打濕上衣，為了保護相機我們有在路上拍攝。在一處很容易被錯過的門臉兒停下，朋友說到了，就順著窄逼的樓梯上到三層。進了小門，裡面有個很長的吧台，已經有幾個客人了。朋友跟他們問早，帶我坐在靠窗的位子上。她跟在沖咖啡的中年女人聊著，然後告訴我這個咖啡館已經67年了，讓我自己點喜歡喝的，架子上的杯子沒有重樣的，每個人都可以選擇自己喜歡的花色和杯型。我選擇青花瓷的，叫了雙份意式濃縮。朋友為了叫了火腿三明治、雙煎蛋和橙汁。旁邊的老太太從我們進來就靜靜地喝著咖啡，絲絲銀髮和臉上褶皺看起來超過70歲。朋友說老太太80出頭，就住在這條街上，每天在這裡用早餐。20年前她嫁到東京時住在不遠處，經常過來喝咖啡，每次都見到老太太。在吧台忙碌的中年女人是店主的女兒，與老太太很熟，無話不聊。當她小時候在父親店裡幫忙時，老太太每次來都是一家三口，丈夫和女兒，後來她帶著女兒來，因為丈夫去世了，再後來她一個人來，因為女兒去世了。最近而多年，老太太幾乎每天早上坐在同一個位置喝咖啡、吃早餐。

東京的雨總是下不大，人們喜歡出門帶傘。我不喜歡帶傘，所以遇到下雨便在咖啡館裡等雨停，這樣可以保護相機。不論在大街還是小巷，我總是能夠輕鬆找到咖啡館。有一次在一家大型百貨商場一樓拐角處的咖啡吧喝咖啡避雨，順便與店主聊天。他看起來有60歲了，自己經營者這個拐角咖啡吧，外面只有3張高腳凳。看到我手上拎著相機不方便喝咖啡，就幫我把相機放在小小的吧臺上。旁邊二位中年女人也加入我們聊相機和拍攝的話題，店主的英語勉強可以聽懂，二位女人只能靠店主翻譯了。當他問道我從哪裡來，而我回答“中國”時，他們全部都靜默了，時間停滯。那一刻，我不知再說什麼，也不知他們在想什麼，那段時間中日就釣魚島問題談判陷入僵局。後來我問了日本的朋友，他們解釋日本右翼鼓噪比較多，媒體報導負面消息也影響普通人，不過，日本人對於政治並不太關心。

東京的雨讓我體會到舒適的一方面，雨後行走在街上，濕潤和清新的空氣沖淡擁擠都市的喧囂。此時的我拍攝欲念很強，總是可以找到自己認為滿意的畫面。東京的咖啡館之多出乎我意料，後來查網上資訊看到，日本咖啡商每年大量採購牙買加、古巴、巴拿馬等國極品咖啡，一般都是預定全收，同時還在其他咖啡產地大量採購，以滿足日本咖啡消費需求。我去東京的咖啡館，還有福岡、京都、北海道的咖啡館儘量選擇非連鎖店，嘗試品出不同特色。事實上，有些特色咖啡店都在不起眼的小巷內，座位沒有幾個，卻很溫馨，總是有自家烘培的點心配咖啡。日本的點心吃起來甜度不高、不油膩，配著一杯意式濃縮和一杯水坐在街角喝著，望著匆忙的日本人。雖然沒有語言交流，但是周圍的環境和人文讓人恍惚覺得是在中國某個城市。有時候店主英文不好，我便寫中文，這樣反倒交流順利。有個咖啡店主看我寫的中文便讚不絕口，他從小學寫中文，也羡慕那些會用毛筆書寫中文的人。他說，日本學說中文的人很多，相對于英文，中文更容易學，而且漢字本身結構就好看。這一點日文沒法相比較。有一次看到街上有人出售有點像陶器的東西，問過才知道這是用於滴漏咖啡的濾器。用一種石材加工成內部多空的濾器，用來製作咖啡。銷售說這樣做的咖啡味道與經濾紙做的完全不同。

我付錢給他準備離開時，他突然說普通話，我才知道他在東京留學後做銷售，銷售與咖啡有關的所有商品。8年裡在東京的這家公司安排他售咖啡器皿、裝飾、咖啡豆和粉使他不但撚熟咖啡，還讓他賺錢買了房。他說日本人熱衷喝咖啡。雖然茶是日本傳統飲品，可是咖啡吸引了年輕一代。世界最頂級的咖啡豆被日本公司購買，最貴咖啡館在東京，最大咖啡消費人群在日本。我沒有繼續問最貴咖啡館在哪裡，知道了我也不會去品嘗。他告訴我，他經常回國，既是因為業務，也是因為探父母的緣故。國內的咖啡店多數是時尚，星巴克比日本多很多。咖啡消費人群遠沒有日本龐大，特別是喜愛咖啡專門品咖啡的人群非常少。

在東京拍片之餘，去吃吃神戶牛肉。提前二天預定，坐定後，一位中年女人身著和服款款走進包房服務。吃頓牛肉花費近三個小時，一個個一道道佳餚仿佛是品一杯杯極品咖啡。因為，我去過的咖啡店，也是通過這樣一道道程式為客人服務的。咖啡師從選咖啡豆、細工研磨及製作咖啡到讓客人選擇自己喜愛的杯子，一絲不苟。不過就是一杯咖啡嗎！讓日本人做得如此富有儀式感。那次朋友邀請吃魚，這家店可是東京唯一一家拍賣魚店。所有位子都與要提前幾日預定，因為店家要訂購這種魚。當客人坐滿後，拍賣開始，叫價、舉牌、落錘，雙胞胎兄弟將一條碩大的魚轉眼拍出，讓後烹成美味從到客人面前。我自然也拍到了魚的一個部位，魚鰓後面的一塊。平時絕對不吃這裡的，切下直接會丟進垃圾，可是經過廚師加工，入口香氣充滿口腔。餐後自然去喝咖啡，在銀座附近的臨街店二樓。透過咖啡店臨街落地窗可以看到樓下人來人往。我不經意會想出問題，東京的日本人看起來有點冷漠，咖啡店裡靜靜的，很多人都是一個人低頭看手機或者書，一杯咖啡可以喝很久也不換杯。咖啡店靠什麼賺錢，那些叫一杯咖啡喝一天的人大有人在。從冷漠的人看到咖啡店的溫暖，他們不會主動要求客人加杯，更不會趕客人

離開。
我喜歡冬季去臺北看雨，淅淅瀝瀝地雨滴在地面濺起水花。一些黃色葉子泡在雨水裡，流露出冬季的氣氛。比較涼的天氣，伴著雨走在忠孝東路，感受那份淒涼的雨水。東京的雨沒有那麼淒涼，街上、地鐵出口外面都有各種顏色和式樣的傘擁擠地遮蓋了雨水，從天上輕鬆地落在傘面上，又極速滑下落在地面。沒有人注意到我手裡端著的相機不停地拍攝，我想將這裡地人記錄下來，當然是要尋找溫暖一些的面孔和笑容。似乎行色匆

忙的人只有在咖啡館裡才會找到安逸和放鬆。東京的咖啡館不像是賺錢的咖啡館，倒是人們躲雨的地方，也是人們放下腳步讓心小息的地方。去歐洲時，我喜歡坐在咖啡館臨窗的位置，不斷用鏡頭記錄街上有趣的行人。咖啡館通常會有很多人聊天，情侶們喜歡在咖啡館約會和聊天，時不時他們會接吻示愛，站起來擁抱，然後坐下來繼續喝咖啡。他們對約會喝接吻的興趣絕對超過對咖啡的興趣。東京的咖啡館根本無法看到約會的情侶，更沒有機會看到他們接吻示愛。似乎咖啡館是聖潔的殿堂，只供人們尋找安逸，卻少了一份熱情。
東京的雨天很有意思，遇到雨天，我只能在咖啡館裡喝咖啡，卻停止了拍攝。粗略算一下，在東京喝咖啡的時間還比我拍攝多，而東京的雨天成就了我在東京喝咖啡的習慣。

發表于香港《潮遊》2018.10

I have been to Japan many times, visiting almost every city from south to north, yet I still feel unfamiliar with it. Perhaps I don’t understand Japan, and the language barrier makes communication with Japanese people quite difficult. Whenever I think about this, I compare my lack of understanding of Japan with my familiarity with Cuba and Iceland, where I can freely communicate with locals in English and Spanish.

Ultimately, it’s a matter of cultural customs; Japanese people tend to be more reserved and it’s not easy to become close friends in a short time. Therefore, simply going there to film and getting to know a few people doesn’t allow for the same depth of conversation as in Cuba and Iceland.

In my “Dream” series of works, one of the main filming locations is Tokyo, alongside Cuba, Taipei, and Hong Kong.

One of them. It gives me the impression of a hurried and cold city, with tired commuters in the subway, people rushing down the streets, and solitary diners quietly having dinner in restaurants at night. The cafes are scattered throughout, always filled with many people, seemingly contrasting with Tokyo’s indifference. During my days filming in Tokyo, I often encountered rainy weather, which I felt brought my topics closer to the atmosphere I wanted. The cafes became my frequent refuge; I would find a window seat to sit down, allowing my camera to capture the scenes outside at any moment.

One time, a friend invited me to a café for breakfast around 7 o’clock, and it was raining that morning. As we left the subway station, the fine rain dampened our clothes, but we took some photos along the way to protect the camera. We stopped at a storefront that was easy to miss, and my friend mentioned we had arrived, so we climbed the narrow staircase to the third floor.

Upon entering through a small door, we found a long bar with a few customers already there. My friend greeted them and led me to a window seat. She chatted with a middle-aged woman preparing coffee and told me that this café had been around for 67 years. I was encouraged to choose my favorite cup from the shelf, where no two were alike. I picked a blue-and-white porcelain cup and ordered a double espresso. My friend ordered a ham sandwich, fried eggs, and orange juice.

Next to us, an elderly lady had been quietly sipping her coffee since we arrived. With her silver hair and wrinkled face, she looked to be over 70. My friend said she was in her 80s and lived on this street, having breakfast there every day. When she married and moved to Tokyo 20 years ago, she lived nearby and often came for coffee, always seeing the elderly lady.

The busy middle-aged woman behind the bar was the owner’s daughter and was very familiar with the elderly lady; they chatted freely. When she was a child helping her father in the café, the elderly lady would come with her husband and daughter. Afterward, she came with just her daughter when her husband passed away, and eventually, she came alone after her daughter died. For many years now, the elderly lady has sat in the same spot almost every morning, drinking coffee and having breakfast.

Tokyo’s rain is usually light, and people like to carry umbrellas when they go out. I don’t enjoy carrying one, so when it rains, I wait in a café for it to stop, which also helps protect my camera. Whether on the main streets or in the alleys, I can always easily find a café.

Once, I was at a coffee bar in the corner of a large department store, having coffee to wait out the rain while chatting with the owner. He looked to be around 60 years old and managed this corner café, which had only three high stools outside. Seeing that it was inconvenient for me to drink coffee while holding my camera, he kindly offered to put it on the small bar counter for me.

Two middle-aged women nearby joined our conversation about cameras and photography. The owner’s English was just understandable, but the two women relied on him for translation. When he asked where I was from and I replied, “China,” they all fell silent, and time seemed to freeze. At that moment, I didn’t know what to say next, nor did I know what they were thinking. At that time, the negotiations between China and Japan regarding the Diaoyu Islands were at a standstill. Later, I asked some Japanese friends about it, and they explained that right-wing sentiments are quite loud in Japan, and negative media coverage affects ordinary people. However, Japanese people generally don’t pay much attention to politics.

Tokyo’s rain gives me a sense of comfort; walking on the streets after the rain, the moist and fresh air alleviates the hustle and bustle of the crowded city. At this moment, my desire to capture images is strong, and I can always find scenes that satisfy me. I was surprised by the abundance of cafés in Tokyo. Later, I researched online and found that Japanese coffee merchants annually purchase large quantities of premium coffee from countries like Jamaica, Cuba, and Panama, usually reserving all of it. They also source coffee from other regions to meet Japan’s coffee consumption demands.

When I visit cafés in Tokyo, as well as in Fukuoka, Kyoto, and Hokkaido, I try to choose non-chain establishments to experience different characteristics. In fact, many unique cafés are tucked away in inconspicuous alleys, with only a few seats, but they are cozy, often serving homemade pastries alongside coffee. Japanese sweets are not overly sweet or greasy, and sitting at a street corner with a cup of espresso and a glass of water, I watch the hurried Japanese people.

Although there is no verbal communication, the surrounding environment and culture often make me feel as if I am in a city in China. Sometimes, when the café owner’s English isn’t very good, I write in Chinese, which surprisingly facilitates our communication. One café owner praised my Chinese writing; he had studied it since elementary school and admired those who could write with a brush. He mentioned that many people in Japan learn Chinese and find it easier to learn than English, noting that the structure of Chinese characters is aesthetically pleasing, something that Japanese writing cannot compare to.

Once, I saw someone selling what looked like pottery on the street and learned that it was a filter used for drip coffee. It was made from a type of stone, and processed into a multi-chambered filter for brewing coffee. The seller said that coffee made this way tastes completely different from coffee brewed with paper filters.

 

When I paid him and was about to leave, he suddenly spoke Mandarin, and I learned that he had studied in Tokyo and was involved in sales related to coffee products. Over the past eight years, this company in Tokyo had him selling coffee equipment, decorations, coffee beans, and grounds, which not only made him proficient in coffee but also allowed him to earn enough to buy a house. He mentioned that Japanese people are very fond of drinking coffee. Although tea is Japan’s traditional beverage, coffee has attracted the younger generation. The world’s top-quality coffee beans are purchased by Japanese companies, and the most expensive coffee shops are in Tokyo, with Japan having the largest coffee consumer base. I didn’t ask where the most expensive coffee shop was, knowing I wouldn’t go there even if I found out. He told me that he often returns to his home country, both for business and to visit his parents. Most coffee shops domestically are fashionable, and there are many more Starbucks than in Japan. The coffee consumer base is far less extensive than in Japan, especially among those who specifically enjoy and appreciate coffee.

While filming in Tokyo, I went to enjoy Kobe beef. I made a reservation two days in advance, and once seated, a middle-aged woman dressed in a kimono gracefully entered the private room to serve us. The meal took nearly three hours, and each dish felt like savoring exquisite coffee. The cafes I’ve visited also serve their guests through a series of meticulous steps. The barista carefully selects coffee beans, grinds them, prepares the coffee, and allows customers to choose their favorite cups, all done with utmost precision. Is it just a cup of coffee? Japanese people carry out such rituals with it. One time, a friend invited me to eat fish at a unique auction fish restaurant in Tokyo. All seats must be reserved a few days in advance, as the restaurant needs to order a specific type of fish. When the seats are full, the auction begins, with bids, paddles raised, and hammers dropped. Twin brothers auction off a giant fish in an instant, which is then cooked to perfection and served to the guests. I also managed to get a piece of the fish, a section behind the gills. Typically, I wouldn’t eat that part, as it would usually be thrown away, but after the chef’s preparation, it was aromatic and delightful.

After the meal, I naturally went for coffee at a street-side shop on the second floor near Ginza. Through the café’s large windows, I could see the bustling street below. I couldn’t help but ponder a question: why do the Japanese in Tokyo seem a bit aloof? The café was quiet, with many people silently looking down at their phones or books, savoring a cup of coffee for a long time without changing cups. How do cafes make money? There are indeed many who spend an entire day sipping a single cup of coffee. From the seemingly indifferent people, I found warmth in the café; they wouldn’t proactively ask customers for refills, nor would they rush anyone to leave.

I enjoy visiting Taipei in the winter to watch the rain, as the drizzles splash on the ground, with yellow leaves floating in the rainwater, conveying the winter atmosphere. The cooler weather, accompanied by rain, as I walk along Zhongxiao East Road, gives me a sense of desolation. Tokyo’s rain isn’t as dreary; the streets and subway exits are crowded with umbrellas of various colors and styles, all sheltering from the rain, with droplets casually falling onto the umbrella surface before quickly sliding down to the ground. No one noticed me constantly taking pictures with my camera, as I wanted to capture the people here, of course looking for warmer faces and smiles. It seems that the hurried passersby only find comfort and relaxation in the café. Tokyo’s coffee shops don’t seem to be profit-driven; rather, they are places where people escape the rain, allowing them to pause and rest. When I go to Europe, I like to sit by the window in cafés, continuously documenting the interesting pedestrians outside. Cafés usually have many people chatting; couples enjoy dating and talking there, occasionally kissing and expressing their affection, standing up to hug, before sitting down to continue sipping coffee. Their interest in dating and kissing surpasses their interest in coffee. In Tokyo’s cafés, you can hardly see couples on dates, let alone witness any kisses or affection. It seems that cafés are sacred places meant for people to seek solace, but they lack a sense of passion.

Tokyo’s rainy days are intriguing; when it rains, I can only sit in a café drinking coffee, halting my photography. Roughly speaking, I spend more time drinking coffee in Tokyo than taking pictures, and the rainy days in Tokyo have cultivated my habit of enjoying coffee there.

Published in Hong Kong’s “Chao You,” October 2018.