MILAN — When non-Italians talk about Italian men, one idea is never far from their minds: “mammone.” Those lush ems and ens indicate a youngster — usually male — who is unable to cut the maternal apron strings, often because Mom doesn’t want them cut, either.
米兰——当外国人谈到意大利男人的时候，脑子里总会冒出一个想法：“妈宝”(mammone)。这个单词里满是m和n，意思是心理上没法断奶的年轻人——通常是男人——往往是因为妈妈也不舍得让他们离开。
Breaking away from dads is easier, or so they say. But if anything, it’s Italian fathers these days who have trouble letting their children go.
与父亲分离更容易一点，起码流传的说法是这么讲的。然而近些年来，无法放手让子女离开的可是意大利爸爸们。
My son Antonio is 21. He is independent, with his own life, his own buddies, his own girlfriend and a calf tattoo I need to talk to him about. Every year, I ask him to come on a trip with me. Long or short, it doesn’t matter, but without Mom. Just the two of us. I’ll try anything to persuade — or bribe — him, and it usually works.
我的儿子安东尼奥(Antonio)今年21岁。他很独立，有自己的生活、自己的哥们、自己的女朋友，腿肚子上还有块纹身——属于老爸得跟他好好谈谈的那种。每年，我都让他跟我一起出去旅行一次。长短没关系，关键是孩子他妈不同行，只有我们父子俩。我会使尽浑身解数说服乃至贿赂他同意，而且往往都奏效了。
Since Antonio emerged from childhood, we have been around Sardinia on separate motorbikes, sampled New York’s music and room service, flown to London to visit friends and to Spain for the world motorcycle championship. We toured Tuscany in a Ferrari lent for an article I wrote in Corriere della Sera. I scuffed its bumper in a Lucca parking lot. Antonio took photos and sent them to friends and relatives.
自从安东尼奥告别童年，我们跨上各自的摩托车转遍了撒丁岛、享受了纽约的音乐和客房服务、飞去伦敦探亲访友、跑到西班牙看世界摩托车锦标赛。为了给《晚邮报》(Corriere della Sera)写篇文章，我们跳上了一辆租来的法拉利，去托斯卡纳四处游览，结果在卢卡的一座停车场里，我蹭到了保险杠。安东尼奥拍下照片，传给了各位亲朋好友。
Last year, we crossed America together from Washington, D.C., to Washington State, taking in 15 states and seven cities. We covered 5, 114 miles in all: 2, 544 by rail, 556 by bus, 1, 940 by automobile, 68 by boat and six by Segway, which Antonio learned how to ride safely in five minutes. Years ago, it took me five hours.
去年，我们一同横穿美国，从华盛顿特区走到了华盛顿州，途径15个州和7座都市。我们一共行进了5114英里（8230公里）：2544英里坐火车、556英里乘大巴、1940英里驾车、68英里乘船，还有6英里开赛格威(Segway)。安东尼奥五分钟就学会了如何安全驾驶赛格威。想当年，我花了五个小时。
I spent a month traveling with a young man who knew where to go, what to say and how to be cool. At daybreak in the New Orleans Greyhound station. At sundown on a Seattle veranda overlooking Lake Washington. In Texas bars where he was too young to order a beer. And in Arizona gun stores where — despite his age — he could have bought an automatic weapon. The buff youngster who slept in the motel bed next to mine would leave the room to make a phone call with that tattoo on full view. It got us past some of the evilest-looking types I’ve ever seen in 35 years of traveling in America.
在那一个月里，与我同行的这位小伙子知道要去哪里、该怎么说话，以及如何扮酷耍帅。我们曾破晓时分出现在新奥尔良大巴站；日落时分在西雅图的阳台上俯瞰华盛顿湖；在德克萨斯州的酒吧里，他还不够喝啤酒的年龄；在亚利桑那州的枪械店里，他这年纪却又足以买到自动武器。这名身材健壮的小伙子睡在汽车旅馆的隔壁床上，离开房间打电话时毫不介意把纹身全露出来。但他的纹身也让我们从一些极其凶神恶煞的人们那里全身而退，让拥有35年美国旅行经验的我都开了眼。
But it’s not just our grand tours. Equally important are the windswept days we’ve spent on the coasts of Italy waiting for a summer that never seems to arrive, with red-flagged, jellyfish-strewn beaches in the mornings and evenings in front of a TV watching old soccer games. You look outside at the gale-defying holm oaks and junipers, and think: “I remember when I was here at your age. Everything looked shiny and new. We ate too much at the wrong time of day, but our foreign girlfriends were happy anyway.” Now it’s their — our kids’ — turn. Every so often, I allow myself to watch them cast off, newly launched boats leaving harbor. There’s nothing for us to do except wave, making sure they can’t see us.
我们并不光是进行这种隆重的旅行。同样重要的还有在意大利海滩度过的刮大风的日子：不管怎么等，夏天似乎都来不了，上午在满是水母、插了红旗的沙滩上度过，晚上则守在电视前观看足球比赛重播。往外瞧见狂风中摇摆的圣栎和杜松，我不禁想：“记得跟你现在差不多大的时候，我也来过这里。那时每样东西都又新又亮。不该吃东西的时间里，我们塞了太多到肚子里，不过我们的外国女朋友还是乐呵呵的。”如今轮到了我们的孩子。时不时地，我得强迫自己眼睁睁看着他们解开新船的缆绳，离开港湾。我们却只能挥挥手，直到确信他们看不见我们了。
Traveling with children is complicated and literary, and it’s literary because it’s complicated. American writers have a track record. Robert M. Pirsig set off with 11-year-old Chris on the back of his 1964 Honda Superhawk CB77 (“Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance”); in a slightly different sense, the hero of Cormac McCarthy’s “The Road” dragged his little boy through a post-apocalyptic America. John Steinbeck, with no kids to hand, packed his poodle into his camper (“Travels With Charley”).
与子女同行感觉很复杂，让人胸中涌起千言万语。之所以有千言万语，也正是因为太复杂。美国作家在这方面表现出色。罗伯特·M·波西格(Robert M. Pirsig)让他11岁的儿子克里斯(Chris)坐到自己的1964年本田超级鹰CB77(Honda Superhawk CB77)的后座上，写下了《禅与摩托车维修艺术》(Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance)。稍有不同的是，科马克·麦卡锡(Cormac McCarthy)的《长路》(The Road)中的男主人公，拖着自己幼小的儿子穿过末世之后的美国。身边没有孩子的约翰·斯坦贝克(John Steinbeck)在野营车里带上了自家的卷毛狗，于是有了《查理与我：斯坦贝克携犬横越美国》(Travels With Charley)。
Almost without exception, the younger generation is the audience. Dad muses, argues and propounds as posterity pays heed. And it’s not just on the screen or page: Kids run the risk of becoming our itinerant audience, and summertime is show time. Have you ever wondered why my generation spent its childhood in the ’60s playing license plate games? Or why today’s youngsters cling to their consoles? For the same reason. So as not to have to listen to their parents on vacation, having done so all year round.
几乎没有例外，年轻一代总是旁观者。老爸自言自语、夸夸其谈、提出忠告，让小辈聆听。这可不是什么只出现在影视作品或书本里的情节：孩子们真有可能沦为跟在我们身后的观众，而夏天就是我们表演的时节。你有没有想过，为什么我们这一代人上世纪60年代的童年都是在玩车牌游戏中度过的？为什么现在的年轻人打起电子游戏来没完没了？道理是一样的，全是为了不用在度假的时候听父母唠叨，毕竟已经听了一整年了。
That’s why when Antonio and I travel together, our first rule is no chitchat. If you know someone, silence can either signal trouble or demonstrate that you don’t need words to understand each other. There’s no doubt about it. When Antonio and I are on the road — with the enthusiastic approval of Mom — we talk very little because we don’t need to say very much. He knows. I know. We know. We know that I sometimes listen but don’t hear, whereas he never listens but — I have no idea how — always hears everything.
正因为如此，安东尼奥和我一起出去旅行的时候，我们的第一条约定就是不闲聊。如果彼此了解，沉默既可以是有麻烦的象征，也可以证明心灵相通。千真万确。安东尼奥和我出去度假，获得了妈妈的热情支持。我俩基本不怎么说话，因为不需要。他懂、我懂、大家都懂。我们明白，有时我会听，但并不会听进去，而他从不爱听，但不知怎的似乎总是听进去了。
We know that we both spend too much time on our iPhones — I’m working, he’s playing. Antonio objects: “You enjoy your work, so it’s like you’re playing. Stop complaining.”
我们明白，两人都在iPhone上花了太多时间。我工作、他娱乐。安东尼奥并不同意这种说法：“你喜欢工作，所以就跟娱乐是一码事。别抱怨了。”
I was forgetting what it was like to be on the other side. Angelo, my 97-year-old father, was born in early 1917, 10 months before the October Revolution (“I’m 10 months older than Communism, and I’ve already outlived it by 23 years!”). I traveled with him when I was younger, and now and again he still asks me to travel with him.
我都快忘记了作为人子时的滋味。我的父亲安杰洛(Angelo)今年97岁，生于1917年初，比十月革命还早了10个月（“我比共产主义年长10个月，而且已经比它多活了23年！”）。前些年我会和他一起去度假，现在他还时不时地提出让我同行。
Angelo likes ships. He was a naval officer for three years during World War II. When we ride a ferry, he tells everyone what the difference between a roll and a pitch is, and explains the route to the captain. I smile.
安杰洛喜欢船。二战期间，他当过三年的海军军官。当我们乘坐渡轮的时候，他会告诉每个人“横摇”和“俯仰”的区别，并解释如何才能晋升船长。我笑而不语。
It’s the same smile Antonio has when he travels with me.
安东尼奥与我同行的时候，脸上也挂着这样的笑容。
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