The most theme-park-like area of Ghibli Park — the place that you will see all over Instagram — is called Ghibli’s Grand Warehouse. From the outside, it absolutely lives up to that name. It is a big giant warehouse: hulking, boxy, utilitarian. It looks as if it might contain a municipal swimming pool — which, in fact, it once did. (An identical building, right next door, still contains an ice rink.) Now the building is stuffed with Ghibliana: a dense bonanza of references and tableaus and scale-model buildings. It is colorful chaos. There are fountains and staircases and bright mosaics with Ghibli’s signature creatures worked into the patterns. There is a children’s play area featuring Totoro and a giant Cat Bus. There is a grand old-fashioned theater that plays charming short films never released in theaters. (I saw one about a group of preschoolers who imagine their way out onto the open sea, where they lasso a smiling whale.)

吉卜力公园里最像主题公园 的区域——你会在 Instagram 上看到的地方——被称为吉卜力大仓库。从外面看，它绝对名副其实。这是一个巨大的仓库：笨重、四四方方、实用。看起来它可能包含一个市政游泳池——事实上，它曾经有过。 （一模一样的建筑，就在隔壁，仍然有一个溜冰场。）现在这座建筑里塞满了Ghibliana ：大量参考资料、画面和比例模型建筑。是五颜六色的混沌。有喷泉、楼梯和明亮的马赛克图案，上面装饰着吉卜力的标志性生物。儿童游乐区设有龙猫和巨型猫巴士。有一个宏伟的老式剧院，播放从未在剧院上映的迷人短片。 （我看到了一个关于一群学龄前儿童的故事，他们想象自己的出路到公海，在那里他们套住一头微笑的鲸鱼。）

The Grand Warehouse’s main draw was an exhibition called, wonderfully, “Exhibition: Becoming Characters in Memorable Ghibli Scenes.” It is a series of life-size tableaus from beloved Studio Ghibli films into which visitors can insert themselves. You can run on top of a giant fish with Ponyo, pose with a robot from “Castle in the Sky,” enter the cluttered clubhouse in “From Up on Poppy Hill” or stand with the hunters from “Princess Mononoke.” Or, the most popular choice, you can sit on the train next to No Face.

大仓库的主要亮点是一个名为“展览：成为令人难忘的吉卜力场景中的角色”的展览。这是一系列来自深受喜爱的吉卜力工作室电影的真人大小的画面，游客可以将自己插入其中。你可以和波妞一起在巨鱼上奔跑，与“天空之城”中的机器人合影，进入“来自罂粟山”中杂乱无章的会所，或者与“幽灵公主”中的猎人站在一起。或者，最受欢迎的选择，你可以坐在No Face旁边的火车上。

Let’s pause here, briefly, to make sure we all fully appreciate No Face. The very best Miyazaki characters, the ones that hit on the deepest spiritual levels, are the ones that do not speak. Totoro, the Cat Bus, soot sprites, kodama (the little rattle-headed forest spirits in “Princess Mononoke”). And the greatest of all these — one of the great strange miracles in the history of cinema — is No Face. No Face is a lonely ghost who appears, out of thin air, in the middle of “Spirited Away.”

让我们在这里暂停一下，以确保我们都能完全欣赏 No Face。最好的宫崎骏角色，那些触及最深层精神层面的角色，都是那些不说话的角色。龙猫、Cat Bus、烟灰精灵、kodama （《幽灵公主》中的小响尾森林精灵）。而所有这些中最伟大的——电影史上最伟大的奇怪奇迹之一——是No Face。 No Face 是一个孤独的幽灵，凭空出现在“千与千寻”的中间。

He is so simple and deep, so eloquently silent, that it is hard to even describe him. Words themselves hesitate. This, in fact, is partly what No Face is about: the failure of language. He speaks in incoherent monosyllables (“eh, eh, eh”) — tender little noises that nudge their way toward language but never quite get there. And yet his sounds are full of feeling, full of all that wants to be expressed but can’t.

他是如此简单而深刻，如此雄辩般地沉默着，以至于很难描述他。言语本身犹豫不决。事实上，这在一定程度上就是《No Face》所要表达的：语言的失败。他用不连贯的单音节词（“eh, eh, eh”）说话——轻柔的小声音推动他们走向语言，但从未完全到达那里。然而他的声音充满了感情，充满了所有想表达却不能表达的东西。

No Face, in other words, is quintessential Miyazaki. In a 2002 interview, Roger Ebert told Miyazaki he loved the “gratuitous motion” in his films, the way “sometimes people will just sit for a moment, or sigh, or gaze at a running stream, or do something extra, not to advance the story but only to give the sense of time and place and who they are.” To which Miyazaki responded: “We have a word for that in Japanese. It’s called ma. Emptiness. It’s there intentionally.” Miyazaki clapped his hands. “The time in between my clapping is ma,” he told Ebert. “If you just have nonstop action with no breathing space at all, it’s just busyness.”

换句话说，No Face是典型的宫崎骏。在 2002 年的一次采访中，罗杰艾伯特告诉宫崎骏，他喜欢他电影中的“无偿动作”，就像“有时人们会坐下片刻，或叹息，或凝视流淌的溪流，或做一些额外的事情，而不是前进这个故事，但只是为了给人一种时间和地点的感觉，以及他们是谁。”宫崎骏回应说：“我们有一个日语单词。它被称为 ma。空虚。这是故意的。”宫崎骏拍了拍手。 “我鼓掌之间的时间是 ma，”他告诉埃伯特。“如果你只是不停地行动，根本没有喘息的机会，那只是忙碌。”

No Face is ma come to life. He is a living negation, an absent presence — a character so minor that he becomes extremely major. His body is a big black swoop. His face is a white mask, in which the eyes and mouth are just black holes. No Face’s body is semitransparent, so you can actually see the background right through him.

No Face是 ma的写真。他是一个活生生的否定，一个缺席的存在——一个如此次要的角色，以至于他变得非常重要。他的身体是一个巨大的黑色俯冲。他的脸是一张白色的面具，里面的眼睛和嘴巴都是黑洞洞的。 No Face 的身体是半透明的，所以你实际上可以透过他看到背景。

This was the one experience I absolutely wanted to have at Ghibli Park, the thing I had been fantasizing about from thousands of miles away: to sit next to No Face. I wanted to enter Miyazaki’s most iconic scene: No Face, sitting, expressionless, on a red velvet seat on an ethereal train near the end of “Spirited Away.” I needed to sit there with him, to put my real 3-D body next to his fake 3-D body. I needed to feel that I was gliding over the water, lonely but not alone, on his sad hopeful journey.

这是我在吉卜力公园绝对想拥有的体验，也是我在千里之外一直幻想的事情：坐在No Face旁边。我想进入宫崎骏最具标志性的场景：在《千与千寻》快结束时，No Face坐在空灵列车的红色天鹅绒座椅上，面无表情。我需要和他坐在一起，将我真正的 3-D 身体放在他的假 3-D 身体旁边。我需要感觉到我正滑过水面，孤独但并不孤单，在他充满希望的悲惨旅程中。

Unfortunately, this turned out not to be possible. Everyone else in Japan seemed to have come to Ghibli Park to take this photo. The line seemed infinite. My guides simply acknowledged that, given the time constraints of our tour, the wait would be too long. (They did not offer, even for a second, to let me cut the line, which I appreciated, because I almost certainly would have done it, thereby violating the whole anti-greed ethos of “Spirited Away.”)

不幸的是，事实证明这是不可能的。日本的其他人似乎都来吉卜力公园拍这张照片。这条线似乎是无限的。我的导游只是承认，考虑到我们旅行的时间限制，等待的时间太长了。 （他们甚至一秒钟都没有提出让我插队，我对此表示赞赏，因为我几乎肯定会这样做，从而违反了“千与千寻”的整个反贪婪精神。）

As a consolation, my guides took my photo in a different tableau, one with a very short line. It was the climactic scene from “Porco Rosso,” Miyazaki’s story of an Italian pig-pilot. This is not one of my favorite Ghibli films, but I would take what I could get. In the tableau, a huge crowd cheers as Porco, his face battered and swollen, throws a punch. I stepped into the fight, tilting my body to absorb Porco’s punch, pretending to punch him back. It felt completely ridiculous. The P.R. team took my photo. It looks as ridiculous as I felt.

作为安慰，我的向导在另一幅画面中为我拍照，画面非常短。这是宫崎骏关于意大利猪飞行员的故事“红猪”的高潮场景。这不是我最喜欢的吉卜力电影之一，但我会尽我所能。在画面中，当Porco的脸又肿又痛地挥拳时，一大群人欢呼。我加入了战斗，倾斜我的身体来吸收Porco 的拳头，假装回击他。感觉完全荒谬。公关团队拍了我的照片。它看起来和我感觉的一样荒谬。

I left the Grand Warehouse feeling — I have to say — mildly disappointed. I had not sat with No Face. Nor had I enjoyed the concession stand that offers, as the website puts it, “local milk in a glass bottle with an original design.” (Another infinite line.) Despite all its color, the Grand Warehouse felt static, plastic, a little anticlimactic. Unlike in Ghibli’s films, nothing moved. Part of me — again, the American part — had been expecting to be shocked, entertained, thrown around. It was hard to imagine Hayao Miyazaki, the genius world-builder, the man obsessed with motion, building a place so oddly still. He would have built a rollicking theme park.

我离开 大仓库时感到——我不得不说——有点失望。我没有和 No Face 坐在一起。我也不喜欢小卖部，正如该网站所说，“采用原创设计的玻璃瓶装本地牛奶”。 （另一条无限长的线。）尽管大仓库色彩缤纷，但给人的感觉是静止的、塑料的，有点虎头蛇尾。与吉卜力的电影不同，没有任何动静。我的一部分——再一次，美国人的一部分——一直期待着被震惊、被娱乐、被抛来抛去。很难想象宫崎骏，这个天才的世界创造者，一个痴迷于运动的人，会建造一个如此古怪静止的地方。他会建造一个欢快的主题公园。

In fact, Toshio Suzuki told me, that had once been his plan. Not many people knew this, Suzuki said, but a long time ago Hayao Miyazaki went to Disneyland. And he loved it.

事实上，Toshio Suzuki 告诉我，这曾经是他的计划。没有多少人知道这一点，铃木说，但很久以前宫崎骏去了迪斯尼乐园。他非常喜欢。

“He kept it to himself,” Suzuki said. “He never said that at home — that he had fun at Disneyland. But I know what happened.”

“他没有告诉别人，”铃木说。 “他在家里从来没有说过——他在迪斯尼乐园玩得很开心。但我知道发生了什么。

In fact, Miyazaki had so much fun that he came back to Japan dreaming of building a theme park of his own. He sketched secret plans of Ghibli-themed roller coasters. Suzuki saw them. But these plans never came to pass. Goro wasn’t interested.

事实上，宫崎骏玩得很开心，他回到日本时梦想着建造一个属于自己的主题公园。他草拟了吉卜力主题过山车的秘密计划。铃木看到了他们。但这些计划从未实现。五郎不感兴趣。

The Grand Warehouse, Goro told me, was motionless by design. He felt that even the most advanced theme-park effects — rides, virtual reality — could never compare with the experience of watching Studio Ghibli’s films. So he didn’t even try. The absence of attractions, the lack of motion in the Grand Warehouse — it was all perfectly intentional.

Goro告诉我， 大仓库按照设计是静止不动的。他觉得即使是最先进的主题公园效果——游乐设施、虚拟现实——也永远无法与观看吉卜力工作室电影的体验相提并论。所以他甚至没有尝试。没有景点，没有大仓库里的动画节目——这一切都是完全有意为之的。

“It’s the visitors that create the motion,” he said. “The characters don’t move, so the visitors have to move themselves. People get very creative, interacting with the scenes. Whether you enjoy it or not — and how you enjoy it — is up to you. And I think that is more Ghibli-esque.”

“是游客创造了动力，”他说。 “角色不会移动，所以参观者必须自己移动。人们变得非常有创意，与场景互动。你是否喜欢它——以及你如何享受它——取决于你。我认为这更像吉卜力。”

A couple of weeks before it opened, Miyazaki visited Ghibli Park. Toshio Suzuki went with him. Goro gave them a tour.

The park, Miyazaki said, “was something that I wouldn’t have come up with myself.”

“He looked a little lonely,” Suzuki told me. “Maybe thinking that his time was up.”

开幕前几周，宫崎骏参观了吉卜力公园。铃木敏夫也跟着去了。五郎带他们参观了一番。

宫崎骏说，这个公园“是我自己想不出来的。”

“他看起来有点孤独，”铃木告诉我。 “也许认为他的时间到了。”

My favorite experience of Ghibli Park, the most “Ghibli Park” experience of all, came at the very end. It involved no lines, no merch, no Miyazaki characters — and yet somehow it felt steered, or framed, or made possible, by Miyazaki. Back at the train station, after my tour, I said goodbye to my guides. Then I turned and walked, over the sea of concrete, back down the hill. Past the Grand Warehouse, through the “Spirited Away” gate. And I followed the path back into the forest. The forest was, after all, the whole point of this park, its inspiration — the thing that father and son could always absolutely agree on.

我最喜欢的经历 吉卜力公园，最“吉卜力公园”的体验，是在最后。它没有台词，没有商品，也没有宫崎骏的角色——但不知何故，感觉是由宫崎骏操纵的，或者是设计的，或者是使它成为可能的。游览结束后回到火车站，我与导游道别。然后我转身步行，越过水泥海，回到山下。经过大仓库，穿过“千与千寻”大门。我沿着小路回到了森林。毕竟，森林是这个公园的全部意义所在，是它的灵感来源——父子俩总是完全同意的事情。

I plunged into the trees and started wandering at random. The forest was not, like so many of the forests in Miyazaki’s films, ancient and primeval. It was younger, more modest. World War II left Nagoya and its surroundings in ruins. The city was destroyed by bombs. The trees were cut down. Much of the soil had been stripped to make clay. This forest was planted, in the years following the war, as an intentional act of recovery. Since then, these trees had been struggling to grow in that white, clay-heavy soil. That’s why they looked the way they did: lean, hungry, twisting. They had to work harder than trees in other places. This is part of why Goro was determined not to cut down a single one. When a few trees got in the way of Ghibli Park’s construction, he had them carefully moved.

我一头扎进树林里，开始胡乱游荡。森林并不像宫崎骏电影中的许多森林那样古老而原始。它更年轻，更谦虚。第二次世界大战使名古屋及其周边成为一片废墟。这座城市被炸弹摧毁了。树木被砍伐了。大部分土壤已被剥离以制成粘土。这片森林是在战后的几年里种植的，作为一种有意的恢复行为。从那时起，这些树就一直在那片白色、黏稠的土壤中艰难地生长。这就是为什么他们看起来像他们的样子：消瘦、饥饿、扭曲。他们必须比其他地方的树木更努力地工作。这就是Goro决心不砍掉任何一个的部分原因。当几棵树挡住了吉卜力公园的建设时，他雇人小心翼翼地搬走了它们。

I kept walking. I scaled steep wooden stairways. Very few other people were out hiking, so most of the time it felt as if we were all alone, me and the trees. I considered the Japanese term “forest bathing” — the notion that walking through trees cleanses your soul. I walked on boardwalks that stretched up toward the canopy. I thought about how this was a place I never would have visited in 100 lifetimes — this unfamous small forest in a municipal park on the outskirts of an industrial city in Japan. And how this was exactly Goro’s plan: to lure people here with the promise of Ghibli’s imaginary world — and then to give them this real one. This place was real, and I was real, and those two realities were overlapping. Trees, trees, trees. It was entirely up to me where to go, what to look at, when to leave.

我一直走着。我爬上陡峭的木楼梯。周围很少有人，所以大多数时候感觉就好像只有我们，即只有我和树木。我想到了日语术语“森林沐浴”——穿过树林可以净化你的灵魂。我走在向树冠延伸的木板路上。我想到这是一个我 100 辈子都不会去的地方——这个位于日本工业城市郊区的市政公园内的无名小森林。这正是Goro 的计划：用吉卜力虚构世界的承诺来吸引人们来到这里——然后给他们这个真实的世界。这个地方是真实的，我也是真实的，这两个现实是重叠的。树、树、树。去哪里、看什么、什么时候离开完全取决于我。

I stopped to watch a spider working in some upper branches, building a large web, twisting and prancing, silhouetted against the blue sky. I passed clusters of fallen acorns on the ground — the forest replenishing itself — and they made me think about Totoro, and thinking about Totoro made me notice more acorns, and soon I stooped to collect some. I filled my pockets. I was happy. And it struck me that this was exactly what I went into Miyazaki’s films for, and what Miyazaki’s animation almost paradoxically did for me: It helped me to find reality, to really see it, to experience it as real, ordinary and strange, boring and surprising. Ghibli Park, in its simplicity, honored this spirit completely. Goro’s vision of a theme park was more radical than the grandest roller coaster could ever be.

我停下来看着一只蜘蛛在高处的树枝上忙绿，结出一张大网，扭动着、腾跃着、映衬着蓝天。我路过地上掉落的橡子丛——森林在自我更新——它们让我想起了龙猫，想到龙猫让我注意到更多的橡子，很快我弯下腰去捡了一些。我装满了我的口袋。当时我很开心。令我震惊的是，这正是我进入宫崎骏电影的目的，而宫崎骏的动画几乎自相矛盾地为我做了什么：它帮助我找到现实，真正地看到它，体验它真实的、普通的和奇怪的、无聊的和奇怪。吉卜力公园以其简洁的方式完全尊重了这种精神。 Goro对主题公园的设想比最宏伟的过山车还要激进。

As the sun started to set, I followed a steep path to the top of a hill. There was a little clearing with wooden benches. An old informational sign from the World Expo. It looked like a place no one had been in 10 years. I went inside a small wooden building that turned out to be a bathroom. Taped up on a utility closet, with thick green tape, was a single sheet of paper. It seemed to be some kind of sign. I examined it. It showed a blurry photo of a stout monkey, standing on all fours. There was some Japanese text underneath, so I ran it through my phone’s translation app. The sign was a warning for hikers. But in that moment it read to me like a poem, or a whole life philosophy:

Do not make eye contact with monkeys.
Do not feed the monkeys or expose them to food
After a while, we will move. not stimulating please.

太阳开始落山时，我沿着陡峭的小路来到山顶。有一小块空地，上面放着木凳。世博会的旧信息标志。它看起来像是 10 年来没有人去过的地方。我走进一座小木屋，原来是一间浴室。用厚厚的绿色胶带粘在杂物间的是一张纸。这似乎是某种迹象。我检查了一下。它显示了一张模糊的照片，照片上是一只四肢站立的粗壮猴子。下面有一些日语文本，所以我通过手机的翻译应用程序运行了它。该标志是对徒步旅行者的警告。但在那一刻，它对我来说就像一首诗，或者一种完整的人生哲学：

不要与猴子进行眼神交流。
不要给猴子喂食，也不要让它们接触食物。

过一会儿，我们就会离开。请不要逗我们。