My first introduction to Kulangsu was “Gulangyu Zhi Bo,” played by Jing. I had heard it at least fifty times before I ever saw Kulangsu, and before I even knew this was originally a song with words. It was my favorite song on Jing’s CD, which I played obsessively in my car when she was away in the first month after we met, but before I first visited her hometown.
When I finally arrived on Kulangsu, its magic was something even greater than could be conveyed by music. The first thing I noticed was the civilization of trees. They are village elders here. If you were an old tree, there must be nowhere in the world where you would live a better life than on Kulangsu. In most of the developed world, trees are demolished to make way for highways and skyscrapers. Here, trees are exalted. The coconut palms are asked to pose for pictures with hundreds of happy couples each day, and the banyan trees reward their neighbors’ respect with the daily gift of shade.
After the typhoon hit Xiamen and Kulangsu in September 2016, just before the UNESCO inspector was due to visit the island for consideration as a UNESCO World Cultural Heritage Site, the islanders worked day and night to rescue the fallen trees and plant new ones.
When the islanders make improvements, they seek not to impress with flash, but simply to shine new light on the natural and architectural beauty that is already everywhere. And nowhere is it more everywhere than on Kulangsu, the musical island, where babies still fall asleep to the sounds of crickets, children still walk to school, and grownups still play CDs.
——Robin Goldstein, 2016
《鼓浪屿之波》。这首曲子我听了不下 50 遍，之前，
这是杨璟的 CD 里我最喜欢的曲子。
在 9 月中旬，台风正面袭击了厦门及鼓浪屿岛后，