彩虹邨(Choi Hung Estate)是香港的一個(gè)公共租住房屋小區(qū),這里的籃球場(chǎng)看起來(lái)本該是一個(gè)打球的好場(chǎng)所。這些涂著藍(lán)橙黃紅鮮艷色彩的球場(chǎng),位于小區(qū)兩層樓停車場(chǎng)的充滿陽(yáng)光的屋頂,球場(chǎng)的三個(gè)邊被同樣五顏六色的高層公寓樓環(huán)繞。
But it can be hard to get a game going with all the people standing, sitting and lying down for pictures.
但是,這里有這么多的人在站著、坐著、躺著拍照,以至于很難把一場(chǎng)球打下去。
Across Hong Kong, where almost half the population lives in government-provided housing, public housing complexes have become wildly popular Instagram destinations. Locals and tourists have flocked to estates around the city, craning their necks to get that perfect social media shot and irritating residents in the process.
香港有近一半人口居住在政府提供的公屋,這些屋邨已成為Instagram上最受歡迎的目的地。當(dāng)?shù)厝撕陀慰图娂娪咳胛挥谙愀鄹魈幍墓葸?,擺姿勢(shì)拍攝用以上傳社交媒體的完美照片,也在這個(gè)過(guò)程中激怒了當(dāng)?shù)氐木用瘛?/p>
The estates have drawn professional interest as well, featuring prominently in marketing campaigns and even a music video by the Korean boy band Seventeen.
這些屋邨還吸引了專業(yè)攝影者的興趣,它們被引人注目地用在營(yíng)銷活動(dòng)的材料上,甚至還出現(xiàn)在韓國(guó)男子流行音樂(lè)團(tuán)體Seventeen的音樂(lè)視頻中。
It is easy to see why places like Choi Hung, which means “rainbow” in Cantonese, are so Instagram friendly. Other estates make for equally pleasing photographs: One is made up of bright blue structures with mesmerizing concentric circles, another of cylindrical buildings with interiors that resemble giant Slinkys.
不難理解為什么彩虹邨這樣的地方特別受Instagram用戶的喜愛(ài)。其他的屋邨也適合拍出同樣賞心悅目的照片:一個(gè)屋邨里的明亮藍(lán)色建筑構(gòu)成引人入迷的同心圓,另一個(gè)由圓柱形建筑組成,建筑內(nèi)部像是巨大的螺旋彈簧玩具“機(jī)靈鬼”(Slinky)。
“It’s visual art. It attracts people’s attention,” said William Leung, 38, a self-proclaimed “public housing fanatic” and an avid photographer who recently published a photo book about Hong Kong’s estates.
“這是視覺(jué)藝術(shù),吸引著人們的注意力,”38歲的威廉·梁(William Leung)說(shuō),他自稱是“公屋迷”,也是一位狂熱的攝影愛(ài)好者,最近出版了一本關(guān)于香港公屋的攝影集。
As with so much architecture, good looks go a long way. But what many of the tourists toting selfie sticks do not realize is that the estates are miracles of public housing, creating affordable homes for millions of people in one of the world’s most expensive cities.
和許多建筑一樣,上鏡頭的大都是漂亮的外表。但許多拿著自拍桿來(lái)這里的游客沒(méi)有意識(shí)到的是,這些屋邨是公共住房的奇跡,在世界上最昂貴的城市之一,為數(shù)百萬(wàn)人提供了經(jīng)濟(jì)適用的住所。
“When you see Choi Hung Estate becoming popular on Instagram, it’s purely based on aesthetics,” said Christopher DeWolf, a journalist who writes about urbanism and architecture, and the author of “Borrowed Spaces: Life Between the Cracks in Modern Hong Kong.”
“你看到彩虹邨在Instagram上走紅,那純粹是基于其表觀美學(xué),”克里斯托弗·德伍爾夫(Christopher DeWolf)說(shuō),他是從事城市與建筑報(bào)道的記者,著有《借來(lái)的空間:現(xiàn)代香港的夾縫生活》(Borrowed Spaces: Life Between the Cracks in Modern Hong Kong)一書(shū)。
“A lot of Hong Kong’s public housing estates were built at a time when modernism was an ascendant form of architecture,” said Mr. DeWolf, 33. He said their clean lines and symmetry make them “very striking” as photographic backdrops.
“香港的許多公共住房都是在現(xiàn)代主義成為一種日益受歡迎的建筑形式的時(shí)代建造的,”33歲的德伍爾夫說(shuō)。他說(shuō),這些建筑清晰的輪廓和勻稱的線條使它們成為“非常醒目”的攝影背景。
The estates also provide a different view of Hong Kong, which is more often photographed for its iconic skyline.
這些屋邨也為人們提供了香港的一個(gè)不同景觀,照片上的香港通常拍的是其標(biāo)志性的天際線。
“Posing in front of public housing complexes where so many people live creates the sense that they’re in the middle of the world,” said Cyrus Wong, an architectural assistant who researched the popularity of public housing on Instagram as part of his master’s thesis.
“在住著這么多人的公屋邨里擺姿勢(shì)拍照,給人以處于世界中心的感覺(jué),”建筑助理賽勒斯·黃(Cyrus Wong)說(shuō),他在研究公屋在Instagram上的流行,這是他碩士論文的一部分。
Sometimes, those selfie-takers are posing in the middle of a basketball game.
有時(shí)候,這些自拍者們?cè)诨@球賽還在進(jìn)行時(shí)就站在球場(chǎng)上擺姿勢(shì)拍照。
Vincent Yeung, 23, has lived at Choi Hung Estate almost his entire life. On a recent Saturday afternoon, he was the lone basketball player on courts that were otherwise packed with photographers.
23歲的文森特·楊(Vincent Yeung)幾乎一直住在彩虹邨。不久前一個(gè)周六的下午,他是球場(chǎng)上唯一一個(gè)打球的人,其他的場(chǎng)地則擠滿了拍照者。
“There are too many people taking photos here,” he said. “My friends have gone elsewhere to play.”
“這里拍照的人太多,”他說(shuō)。“我的朋友們都去其他地方打球了。”
A few months ago, he was playing a game of 3-on-3 when a couple decided to sit in the middle of the court for photos. A stray ball inevitably hit them, Mr. Yeung said, and the couple exploded in anger, cursing at him and his friends.
幾個(gè)月前,他在打一場(chǎng)三人賽時(shí),有一對(duì)情侶非要坐在場(chǎng)地中間拍照。果然,一個(gè)球打偏了砸到他們,楊說(shuō),這對(duì)情侶勃然大怒,咒罵他和他的朋友。
“If we scold them, we’re accused of discrimination,” he said of the mainland tourists who are among the visitors to the estate. “But if we don’t scold them — well, we’re playing basketball here! It’s really a dilemma.”
“如果我們要是說(shuō)他們吧,就會(huì)說(shuō)我們搞歧視,”他指的是來(lái)彩虹邨參觀的內(nèi)地游客。“但是如果我們不說(shuō)他們——哎,我們正在這里打球!真是不好辦。”
There are no explicit rules against photography at the estates, but passcodes are required to enter the buildings themselves.
在公屋邨,沒(méi)有明令禁止拍照,但是進(jìn)入樓內(nèi)需要密碼。
At another Instagram hot spot — an incredibly dense collection of five residential blocks in the Quarry Bay neighborhood that were featured in the movie “Transformers: Age of Extinction” — residents trying to protect their privacy have posted signs warning visitors not to take photos or videos without prior approval.
在Instagram上的另一個(gè)熱門景點(diǎn)——電影《變形金剛:絕跡重生》中出現(xiàn)過(guò)的鲗魚(yú)涌(Quarry Bay)五棟密密麻麻的居民樓——竭力保護(hù)隱私的居民們張貼起告示,警示游客不要在未經(jīng)許可的情況下拍照或是錄影。
Public housing in Hong Kong does not have the negative connotations it sometimes does in the United States, partly because so many people here depend on it.
香港的公屋不像美國(guó)的公屋有時(shí)帶有負(fù)面含義,部分原因可能是這里如此多的人都依賴它。
“If almost half of the population lives in public housing, it becomes an everyday backdrop, rather than something separated and isolated,” said Eric Schuldenfrei, an associate dean in the architecture department at the University of Hong Kong.
“如果近乎一半的人口都住在公屋里,那么它就成了一種日常背景,而不是被分開(kāi)或被孤立的東西,”香港大學(xué)建筑系副主任邵達(dá)輝(Eric Schuldenfrei)說(shuō)。
Public housing has played an important role in Hong Kong’s history, with government policy often reflecting the city’s economic development.
公屋在香港歷史上發(fā)揮著重要作用,政府的政策通常反映的是這座城市的經(jīng)濟(jì)發(fā)展?fàn)顩r。
Hong Kong saw a huge influx of refugees from roughly 1937 to 1950, which was spurred by the Japanese invasion of China in the lead-up to World War II and continued through China’s civil war. The city struggled to accommodate the newcomers, and hundreds of thousands ended up living in sprawling, overcrowded shantytowns packed with squatter huts.
大約從1937年到1950年間,大批難民涌入香港,這是由于第二次世界大戰(zhàn)前日本入侵中國(guó)以及后續(xù)的中國(guó)內(nèi)戰(zhàn)所致。香港努力接納新移民,成千上萬(wàn)的人們最終住進(jìn)了雜亂無(wú)序、擁擠的棚戶區(qū),里面擠滿寮屋。
When a fire ripped through a squatter area on Christmas Day in 1953, displacing 53,000 people overnight, the government was forced to intervene. Temporary shelters and short-term resettlement centers were eventually replaced by permanent housing estates. One of the first was Choi Hung, built in 1964 to house some 43,000 people.
1953年圣誕節(jié),一場(chǎng)大火席卷了寮屋區(qū),使得5.3萬(wàn)人在一夜之間無(wú)家可歸,政府被迫介入。臨時(shí)避難所以及短期安置中心最終被永久性公屋邨所取代。其中首批就包括彩虹邨,它建于1964年,住著大約4.3萬(wàn)人。
In the decades since, the Hong Kong government has aggressively pursued a policy of housing its citizens. Today, 30 percent of the population lives in public rental housing, while 16 percent lives in apartments purchased with the help of government subsidies.
在那往后的數(shù)十年間,香港政府積極推進(jìn)住房政策,為民眾提供住處。如今,香港30%的人口住在公屋,16%的人口住在由政府補(bǔ)貼購(gòu)買的公寓內(nèi)。
The city “has a massive public sector housing program on a scale that is unprecedented in free-market economies,” according to a report on housing policy by Our Hong Kong Foundation, a research organization. “It is undeniable that the government of Hong Kong is the single largest landlord, developer and operator of housing within the territory.”
根據(jù)研究機(jī)構(gòu)團(tuán)結(jié)香港基金(Our Hong Kong Foundation)一份有關(guān)住房政策的報(bào)告,香港“有一個(gè)巨大的公共部門住房項(xiàng)目,其規(guī)模在自由市場(chǎng)經(jīng)濟(jì)體中前所未見(jiàn)”。“不可否認(rèn)的是,香港政府是這片土地上獨(dú)大的地主、房屋開(kāi)發(fā)商和運(yùn)營(yíng)商。”
In spite of this, the city faces a severe housing crisis, and demand for public housing far outstrips supply. Families are now waiting more than five years for apartments, which in turn has pushed prices in the private market to astronomical highs.
盡管如此,香港還是面臨著嚴(yán)重的住房危機(jī),而且對(duì)于公屋的需求遠(yuǎn)超其供給?,F(xiàn)在,很多家庭為了獲得一套房需要等超過(guò)五年的時(shí)間,這反過(guò)來(lái)又將私人市場(chǎng)上的房?jī)r(jià)推向天文數(shù)字。
Older housing estates like Choi Hung remind people of a more affordable era, Mr. DeWolf said. Many of them were built in the 1960s, when the city transformed itself into a booming manufacturing hub, and 1970s, when the economy took off.
德伍爾夫說(shuō),像彩虹邨這樣舊的公屋邨讓人們回想起過(guò)去那個(gè)房?jī)r(jià)遠(yuǎn)可承受的時(shí)代。其中很多都建于20世紀(jì)六七十年代。六十年代,香港轉(zhuǎn)型為蓬勃發(fā)展的制造業(yè)中心,到了七十年代,經(jīng)濟(jì)開(kāi)始騰飛。
“In hindsight, there’s this optimism,” Mr. DeWolf said, “a yearning for a time that maybe seemed more simple, when it seemed like everyone in Hong Kong had a shot at success.”
“回想起來(lái),這里面有一種樂(lè)觀精神,”德伍爾夫說(shuō),“是對(duì)于一個(gè)更簡(jiǎn)單時(shí)代的向往,當(dāng)時(shí)似乎每個(gè)香港人都有機(jī)會(huì)成功。”
K. Pang, a retired civil servant in his 50s, recently returned with his family to Choi Hung, where he had spent much of his childhood. 五十多歲的彭(K. Pang)是一名退休公務(wù)員,最近剛和他的家人回到彩虹邨,他在那里度過(guò)了大部分的童年時(shí)光。
“It’s nostalgic, to see an old estate like this now attracting tourists,” Mr. Pang said as he watched his children pose for photos. In the old days, he said, estates like these were associated with crime, but he now appreciates that they have become a popular attraction.
看著自己的孩子留影拍照,彭先生說(shuō):“看到這樣一處舊的公屋邨如今吸引著游客,感覺(jué)很懷舊。”他說(shuō),在過(guò)去,像這樣的公屋邨是和犯罪聯(lián)系在一起的,但現(xiàn)在他卻發(fā)現(xiàn)它們變成了受人喜歡的旅游景點(diǎn)。
Nelson Yuen, 25, a lifelong resident of Choi Hung, has seen the camera-toting crowds descend on his backyard. Far from being annoyed, he decided to set up a photo stand with his girlfriend, selling Polaroid shots for 40 Hong Kong dollars, or about $5, each.
25歲的尼爾森·袁(Nelson Yuen)一直住在彩虹邨,他看到自家后院里拿相機(jī)拍照的游客數(shù)量在減少。他完全沒(méi)有被這種行為惹怒,反而決定和女朋友擺個(gè)照相攤,以每張40港幣的價(jià)格出售拍立得相片。
“I think it’s pretty good, to make this place a tourist spot,” he said. “It’s better than not having people here.”
“我覺(jué)得這很好,把這里變成了一個(gè)旅游景點(diǎn),”他說(shuō)。“這比這里沒(méi)有人要好。”