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颠簸,陷入淡淡云层,飞机降落在开普敦机场。沿桌山脚下的公路,仰脖向上即见山顶,和山腰似刻意修剪过的高大松树平齐的树冠;扭头朝下便是山与海之间的城区。老城区如二、三十年代的伦敦,但久未得到修缮,幢幢三、四层的小楼被一条条不宽的街区隔开,街上铺设的是被磨亮了的不大不小的青石块。周末难见行人,商店都不营业,只有城中心小小四方广场上专门为游客开设的工艺品市场仍然热闹。一个个搭起的小棚子,木雕、石刻、手鼓、毛皮挂毯、骨质首饰、当地图案的纺织品……面具是我特别关注的。
Bumpy, plunged into the clouds, the plane landed at Cape Town Airport. Along the foot of the Table Mountain road, Yang Jian up to see the top of the hill, and hillsides, like deliberately pruned tall pine trees flush crown; turned down is between the mountains and the sea between the city. The old city, such as London in the 1920s and 1930s, has not been renovated for a long time. The small buildings in the third and fourth floors of the tower are separated by a narrow strip of street. The streets are lined with polished green stone. Weekends difficult to see pedestrians, shops are not open, only the small square in the center of the city specifically for tourists to open handicraft market is still lively. One by one put up a small shed, wood carvings, stone carvings, tambourines, fur tapestries, bone jewelry, local patterns of textiles ... mask is my particular concern.