碎片手记-厨房人间

从墨脱出来，往通麦方向走，路线是这样的：

通麦，在川藏线上的功能性和实用性要更突出一些，没有大开大合绚丽动人的景色，更像个给来往行人歇脚补给的中转站。平整的公路上飞速穿梭着重型货车、大型载货卡车、贴着“318此生必驾”贴纸的越野车、以及各式交通工具，驶过时阵阵尘土飞扬，这里看过的更多是旅人的匆匆背影和他们必要停歇时的极度疲累。
旅程进行到后半段，大家的体力都到了极限，工作人员也陆陆续续地病倒了，我们是专程来找向大姐的，毕竟没有什么是美食不能治愈的。如果说拉萨指引着人们朝圣的方向，那飘香十里的石锅鸡就是旅人继续前行的“加油站”了。

也终于在这里，吃到了此趟最好吃的美食，鸡是从山上现抓的（dbq），锅是以当地皂石为原材制作的墨脱石锅，大家在酒足饭饱后卸下盔甲，彼此虽然不相识，但三言两句也能聊在一起，然后满足地说句“快乐最重要”。
向大姐格外热情，皮肤是那种超出想象地白，面色红润，洋溢着的全然是对生活的热爱。跟向大姐去集市买菜时，她仿佛来到了自己的主场，与每一颗蔬菜交手，令每一只走地鸡闻风丧胆。在采访期间，向大姐在吐露一连串连珠妙语的同时，还兼顾着店内店外的一切动静，从店内桌椅摆放到客人吃完作别，再招呼门口的新客。
·向大姐：现在我们4楼两个床的普通间，还是30块钱，不带卫生间而已，还是30块钱，我没涨价，还是那个价。

·向大姐：尤其是年龄大的，有些是残疾的，我都不收钱了，这是免费的。早上走的时候还拿点水果拿点鸡蛋这些。

·向大姐：反正只要一看到骑友来，我就给厨房里说，特意要把菜多给他们炒一点，他们是骑行的，消耗力很大，我们把菜量都要给它加大。

（后来聊天的时候才知道，我们当时吃的石锅鸡，原本一锅是一只鸡的分量，她怕我们吃不饱，就偷偷多给了我们一只😭）
把餐厅开在中转站上的向大姐，也许见过太多的流转和经停、风霜和尘土，所以并没有选择去到更多更远的地方，反而是把自己的小屋打造成了一个安全屋，把自己的厨房经营得热火朝天去抚慰每一个来往过客。

这一路上，我们遇到好多人，有不得志辞职出来的，有城市压力大出来放空的，还有寻找答案的，大家出发时的状态都比较紧绷，但到了向大姐这里，先吃饱了再说。她像这个地方的守护者，耐心听着每一个小小的烦恼和烦闷，把旅人路途中的五味扔进厨房的灶火里，热油翻炒，生活的余韵噼里啪啦升腾出来。

导演随笔：我最羡慕向大姐的是，当我看到她的驿站时，我觉得她这样的人生一定不会孤单，她有那么多故事填满她的内心。

吃石锅鸡的餐厅是向大姐的新店，装修环境得华丽丽也很干净。她还带我们去看了之前的驿站（老店），由一圈平房加一个小院构成，各路骑行者的旗帜和标语把驿站装饰得热闹非凡，满墙都是黑色记号笔留下的字迹，那一定是来往的过客当时最想说的话吧。
有留下豪迈壮志的“浩荡天涯，四海为家”
有感叹天气的“人世间最痛苦的事情莫过于天天下雨！！！”
有岁月静好的“田里的鱼游川藏，高原美景无限好”
有表白的“你是我的宝藏女孩***”
充满惊喜的生之烂漫盛开得漫山遍野。

导演：有没有什么后悔的事情。
向大姐：没有什么。
导演：如果时间倒流，会不会有想改变自己某个阶段。
向大姐：我现在想到这个问题，就觉得不应该开那个新店。那天有个人，一进来说这个店子这么豪华，肯定不是我们骑友吃饭的地方，我那天正好在外面，我说你进来，大姐不会宰你的，我专门接待骑友一二十年了，你别这样说话，说着我心里特别难受。
向大姐：等今后我不做生意了，我就把旗子全部取下来收藏。
（后来临走时，向大姐还偷偷问我们，豪华的新店是不是没有老店好😭😭）
离开时走了通麦大桥，通麦天险曾经是川藏南线最险的一段路，有“亚洲第二大泥石流群”，路窄坡度大，多雨、塌方、落石时有发生。
导演回忆起自己11年前，大学毕业时候的骑行也走过通麦大桥，那时是2012年。“当时还是老桥，单行道，一次只能过一辆车，要等很久”。2016年，随着通麦特大桥落成，险峻的天堑变成通途，惊心动魄的通麦老桥也被弃用。

导演随笔：从小老虎嘴隧道口向右望，可以看到我之前走的那条老路，坑洼的路面中有许多裂缝，没有任何防护网和路基，好像那时候的我，什么都没有，也什么都没怕过。PS.啊，岁月真的改变了太多太多，就连刀工也up up了😶

Director’s Notes – Life In The Kitchen

Coming out of Motuo, heading towards Tongmai, the route looks like this:

Tongmai, a small town situated along the Sichuan-Xizang Highway, emphasizes functionality and practicality more than scenic beauty. It’s not a place of grandeur and breathtaking landscapes; rather, it serves more as a transit pit stop for travelers to rest and replenish. Heavy-duty trucks, cargo trucks, off-road vehicles adorned with stickers proclaiming “Must Drive in a Lifetime on Route 318,” and various other vehicles zoom along the smooth road, kicking up dust as they pass by. Here, what you see more of are the hurried silhouettes of travelers and their extreme fatigue when they must stop for a break.

As the journey progresses into the second half, everyone’s stamina reaches its limit, and our staff members start falling ill one after another. We made a special trip to find Auntie Xiang, as there’s nothing that good food can’t cure. If Lhasa points pilgrims in the direction of spirituality, then the aroma of stone pot chicken from miles away serves as the “refueling station” for travelers to continue their journey.

Finally, here, we had the most delicious food of the trip. The chickens were freshly caught from the mountains (sorry), and the pots were made from local soapstone, creating the Motuo stone pot. After a satisfying meal, we shed our armor. Although we were strangers, we could chat happily for a while, and then contentedly say, “Happiness is the most important thing.”

Auntie Xiang was especially warm and welcoming, with unexpectedly fair skin and a rosy complexion, radiating nothing but love for life. When we went shopping with Auntie Xiang at the market, she seemed to be in her element, bargaining fiercely with every vegetable and striking fear into every free-range chicken. During the interview, while Auntie Xiang was sharing a string of insightful remarks, she also kept an eye on everything happening inside and outside the restaurant, from arranging tables and chairs to bidding farewell to departing guests and welcoming new customers at the door.

Auntie Xiang: “A regular room with two beds on the fourth floor is still 30 yuan(about $4), without a bathroom, just 30 yuan. I haven’t raised the price; it’s still the same.”

Auntie Xiang: “Especially for the elderly and the disabled, I don’t charge them anymore; it’s free. When they leave in the morning, I give them some fruits and eggs.”

Auntie Xiang: “Whenever I see cyclists coming, I tell the kitchen to cook a little more for them. They’re cycling, they consume a lot of energy, so we increase their portion size.”

(Later during our conversation, we learned that the stone pot chicken we ate that day was originally one chicken per pot, but she was afraid we wouldn’t have enough, so she secretly gave us an extra chicken 😭)

Auntie Xiang chose to open her restaurant at the transit station, perhaps having seen too much transience, stopping, winds, and dust. Instead of going to more distant places, she created a safe haven, managing her kitchen with gusto to comfort every passing guest.

Along this journey, we met so many people—some who had quit their jobs and set out, some who sought to escape urban pressures, and some who searched for answers. Everyone set off feeling somewhat tense, but upon reaching Auntie Xiang’s place, they focused on eating a good meal. She was like the guardian of this place, patiently listening to every small annoyance and frustration, tossing the flavors of travelers’ journeys into the flames of her kitchen, sauteing with hot oil, where the remnants of life bubbled up.

Director’s Note: What I admire most about Auntie Xiang is that when I saw her inn, I felt that her life must not be lonely; she has so many stories to fill her heart.

The restaurant where we ate stone pot chicken is Auntie Xiang’s new shop, beautifully decorated and very clean. She even took us to see her previous inn (the old shop), which consisted of a row of bungalows and a courtyard. The flags and slogans of cyclists from all over the world decorated the inn, making it lively. The walls were covered with writings left by black markers, which must have been the words that travelers wanted to say at that time.

Some expressed grand ambitions: “Vast the world, make every place home.”
Some lamented the weather: “The most painful thing in the world is raining every day!!!”
Some praised the tranquility of life: “’Fish in the field’ swims in Xizang, and the beauty of the plateau is endless.”
Some confessed their feelings: “You are my treasure girl ***”
Life flourished with surprises, blooming all over the mountains and fields.

Director: Is there anything you regret?
Auntie Xiang: Nothing.
Director: If you can turn back time, would you want to change something about yourself at a certain stage?
Auntie Xiang: When I think about this question now, I feel that I shouldn’t have opened this new inn. That day, someone came in and said that this inn was so luxurious, it must not be a place where cyclists eat. I happened to be outside that day, and I said, “Come in, Auntie won’t overcharge you. I’ve been specially catering to cyclists for twenty years. Don’t say that; it makes me feel really upset.”
Auntie Xiang: When I’m no longer managing this inn in the future, I’ll take down all the flags and keep them as souvenirs.
(Later, when we were leaving, Auntie Xiang secretly asked us if the luxurious new inn wasn’t as good as the old inn 😭😭)

Leaving Tongmai, we crossed the Tongmai Bridge. Tongmai Precipice was once the most dangerous section of the southern route of the Sichuan-Xizang Highway, with the “second-largest mudslide group in Asia.” The narrow road with steep slopes often experiences rain, landslides, and rockfalls.

The director recalled his cycling trip 11 years ago when he graduated college in 2012. “At that time, it was still the old bridge, a one-way road, and only one car could pass at a time. We had to wait a long time.” In 2016, with the completion of the Tongmai Extra Large Bridge, the treacherous chasm became a thoroughfare, and the thrilling old Tongmai Bridge was abandoned.

Director’s Note: Looking to the right from the entrance of the Xiaohutou Tunnel, you can see the old road that I traveled before. The pitted road surface has many cracks, with no protective netting or roadbed, as if at that time, I had nothing and nothing to fear.

PS. Ah, time has really changed so much, even the culinary knife skills has improved 😶