《美食祈禱和戀愛》Chapter 33 (71):身處意大利的我
And still, after a few weeks of thinking about it, I can't answer it any better now. I know some words that it definitely isn't. It's not MARRIAGE, that's evident. It's not FAMILY (though this was the word of the town I'd lived in for a few years with my husband, and since I did not fit with that word, this was a big cause of my suffering). It's not DEPRESSION anymore, thank heavens. I'm not concerned that I share Stockholm's word of CONFORM. But I don't feel that I'm entirely inhabiting New York City's ACHIEVE anymore, either, though that had indeed been my word all throughout my twenties. My word might be SEEK. (Then again, let's be honest—it might just as easily be HIDE.) Over the last months in Italy, my word has largely been PLEASURE, but that word doesn't match every single part of me, or I wouldn't be so eager to get myself to India. My word might be DEVOTION, though this makes me sound like more of a goody-goody than I am and doesn't take into account how much wine I've been drinking. 然而，經過數星期的考慮，我現在能夠做出完美的回答。我知道哪些用詞肯定不是。顯然不是“婚姻”，不是“家庭”（儘管這個用詞屬於我和我先生同住幾年的城鎮，但由於我不符合這個詞，因此造成我的苦難），不再是“抑鬱”，感謝上天。我不擔心我和斯德哥爾摩共用“循規蹈矩”這詞，但我也認爲我並不住在紐約市的“實現”當中，儘管它確實是我二十幾歲整段歲月的用詞。我的用詞或許是“尋求”。（可是誠實點的話，或許“躲藏”較爲妥當。）在意大利的過去幾個月中，我的用詞大半是“快樂”，可是這個詞並不完全吻合每一部分的我，否則我不致急於前往印度。我的用詞或許是“虔誠”，儘管這聽起來像乖乖牌，也沒把我喝過多少酒考慮進去。
I don't know the answer, and I suppose that's what this year of journeying is about. Finding my word. But one thing I can say with all assurance—it ain't SEX. 我不清楚答案，我猜這正是這一年的旅遊任務。尋找我的用詞。但我能斬釘截鐵地說——可不是“性”。
Or so I claim, anyhow. You tell me, then, why today my feet led me almost of their own accord to a discreet boutique off the Via Condotti, where—under the expert tutelage of the silky young Italian shop girl—I spent a few dreamy hours (and a transcontinental airline ticket's worth of money) buying enough lingerie to keep a sultan's consort outfitted for 1,001 nights. I bought bras of every shape and formation. I bought filmy, flimsy camisoles and sassy bits of panty in every color of the Easter basket, and slips that came in creamy satins and hush-now-baby silks, and handmade little bits of string and things and basically just one velvety, lacy, crazy valentine after another. 至少這是我的主張。那麼，請告訴我，今天我的腳爲何不由自主地領我到康多提大道（Via Condotti）附近一家不起眼的商店——在輕聲細語的年輕意大利售貨小姐專業的監護下——我花數小時的夢幻時光（以及相當於一張跨洲機票的費用），買下足以讓蘇丹王的老婆換穿一千零一夜的貼身內衣褲。我買了各式各樣的胸罩，我買了又輕又薄的緊身襯衣、各種顏色的漂亮內褲、性感的絲綢襯裙、手工襪帶等，基本上是一件又一件柔軟光滑、帶花邊、瘋狂的情人節禮物。
I have never owned things like this in my life. So why now? As I was walking out of the store, hauling my cache of tissue-wrapped naughties under my arm, I suddenly thought of the anguished demand I'd heard a Roman soccer fan yell the other night at the Lazio game, when Lazio's star player Albertini at a critical moment had passed the ball right into the middle of nowhere, for no reason whatsoever, totally blowing the play. 我這輩子不曾擁有這些東西。那爲何是此時？我走出商店，腋下夾着包在薄紙裏的貼身衣物，突然想起某晚我在拉齊奧隊的球賽上，聽見一個羅馬足球迷喊出的痛苦請求。當時拉齊奧的明星球員阿爾貝蒂尼不知何故，在關鍵時刻把球踢到哪兒都不是的地方，大爆冷門。
"Per chi???" the fan had shouted in near-madness. "Per chi???" “Per chi??? ”球迷近乎瘋狂地叫喊，“Per chi???”
For WHOM??? For whom are you passing this ball, Albertini? Nobody's there! 爲了誰？阿爾貝蒂尼，你傳這球是爲了誰？那裏沒有人啊！
Out on the street after my delirious hours of lingerie shopping, I remembered this line and repeated it to myself in a whisper: "Per chi?" 在幾個小時瘋狂的內衣褲採購後走出商店，我想起這個句話，重複對自己低語：“Per chi?”
For whom, Liz? For whom all this decadent sexiness? Nobody's there. I had only a few weeks left in Italy and absolutely no intention of knocking boots with anyone. Or did I? Had I finally been affected by the word on the streets in Rome? Was this some final effort to become Italian? Was this a gift to myself, or was it a gift for some as yet not even imagined lover? Was this an attempt to start healing my libido after the sexual self-confidence disaster of my last relationship? 爲了誰，小莉？這頹廢的性感是爲了誰？那裏沒有人啊！我在意大利只剩幾個星期，絕不想和任何人炒飯。真的嗎？羅馬的用詞是否終於影響了我？這是成爲意大利人的最後一招嗎？這是給我自己的禮物，或是給甚至尚未在想象中成形的情人的禮物？這可是因爲我在上一段關係中喪失性自信心，於是嘗試開始治療性慾？
I asked myself, "You gonna bring all this stuff to India?"Eat, Pray, Love 我自問：“你想把這些東西帶去——印度？”
