And still, after a few weeks of thinking about it, I can't answer it any better now. I know some words that it definitely isn't. It's not MARRIAGE, that's evident. It's not FAMILY (though this was the word of the town I'd lived in for a few years with my husband, and since I did not fit with that word, this was a big cause of my suffering). It's not DEPRESSION anymore, thank heavens. I'm not concerned that I share Stockholm's word of CONFORM. But I don't feel that I'm entirely inhabiting New York City's ACHIEVE anymore, either, though that had indeed been my word all throughout my twenties. My word might be SEEK. (Then again, let's be honest—it might just as easily be HIDE.) Over the last months in Italy, my word has largely been PLEASURE, but that word doesn't match every single part of me, or I wouldn't be so eager to get myself to India. My word might be DEVOTION, though this makes me sound like more of a goody-goody than I am and doesn't take into account how much wine I've been drinking. 然而，经过数星期的考虑，我现在能够做出完美的回答。我知道哪些用词肯定不是。显然不是“婚姻”，不是“家庭”（尽管这个用词属于我和我先生同住几年的城镇，但由于我不符合这个词，因此造成我的苦难），不再是“抑郁”，感谢上天。我不担心我和斯德哥尔摩共用“循规蹈矩”这词，但我也认为我并不住在纽约市的“实现”当中，尽管它确实是我二十几岁整段岁月的用词。我的用词或许是“寻求”。（可是诚实点的话，或许“躲藏”较为妥当。）在意大利的过去几个月中，我的用词大半是“快乐”，可是这个词并不完全吻合每一部分的我，否则我不致急于前往印度。我的用词或许是“虔诚”，尽管这听起来像乖乖牌，也没把我喝过多少酒考虑进去。

I don't know the answer, and I suppose that's what this year of journeying is about. Finding my word. But one thing I can say with all assurance—it ain't SEX. 我不清楚答案，我猜这正是这一年的旅游任务。寻找我的用词。但我能斩钉截铁地说——可不是“性”。

Or so I claim, anyhow. You tell me, then, why today my feet led me almost of their own accord to a discreet boutique off the Via Condotti, where—under the expert tutelage of the silky young Italian shop girl—I spent a few dreamy hours (and a transcontinental airline ticket's worth of money) buying enough lingerie to keep a sultan's consort outfitted for 1,001 nights. I bought bras of every shape and formation. I bought filmy, flimsy camisoles and sassy bits of panty in every color of the Easter basket, and slips that came in creamy satins and hush-now-baby silks, and handmade little bits of string and things and basically just one velvety, lacy, crazy valentine after another. 至少这是我的主张。那么，请告诉我，今天我的脚为何不由自主地领我到康多提大道（Via Condotti）附近一家不起眼的商店——在轻声细语的年轻意大利售货小姐专业的监护下——我花数小时的梦幻时光（以及相当于一张跨洲机票的费用），买下足以让苏丹王的老婆换穿一千零一夜的贴身内衣裤。我买了各式各样的胸罩，我买了又轻又薄的紧身衬衣、各种颜色的漂亮内裤、性感的丝绸衬裙、手工袜带等，基本上是一件又一件柔软光滑、带花边、疯狂的情人节礼物。

I have never owned things like this in my life. So why now? As I was walking out of the store, hauling my cache of tissue-wrapped naughties under my arm, I suddenly thought of the anguished demand I'd heard a Roman soccer fan yell the other night at the Lazio game, when Lazio's star player Albertini at a critical moment had passed the ball right into the middle of nowhere, for no reason whatsoever, totally blowing the play. 我这辈子不曾拥有这些东西。那为何是此时？我走出商店，腋下夹着包在薄纸里的贴身衣物，突然想起某晚我在拉齐奥队的球赛上，听见一个罗马足球迷喊出的痛苦请求。当时拉齐奥的明星球员阿尔贝蒂尼不知何故，在关键时刻把球踢到哪儿都不是的地方，大爆冷门。

"Per chi???" the fan had shouted in near-madness. "Per chi???" “Per chi??? ”球迷近乎疯狂地叫喊，“Per chi???”

For WHOM??? For whom are you passing this ball, Albertini? Nobody's there! 为了谁？阿尔贝蒂尼，你传这球是为了谁？那里没有人啊！

Out on the street after my delirious hours of lingerie shopping, I remembered this line and repeated it to myself in a whisper: "Per chi?" 在几个小时疯狂的内衣裤采购后走出商店，我想起这个句话，重复对自己低语：“Per chi?”

For whom, Liz? For whom all this decadent sexiness? Nobody's there. I had only a few weeks left in Italy and absolutely no intention of knocking boots with anyone. Or did I? Had I finally been affected by the word on the streets in Rome? Was this some final effort to become Italian? Was this a gift to myself, or was it a gift for some as yet not even imagined lover? Was this an attempt to start healing my libido after the sexual self-confidence disaster of my last relationship? 为了谁，小莉？这颓废的性感是为了谁？那里没有人啊！我在意大利只剩几个星期，绝不想和任何人炒饭。真的吗？罗马的用词是否终于影响了我？这是成为意大利人的最后一招吗？这是给我自己的礼物，或是给甚至尚未在想象中成形的情人的礼物？这可是因为我在上一段关系中丧失性自信心，于是尝试开始治疗性欲？

I asked myself, "You gonna bring all this stuff to India?"Eat, Pray, Love 我自问：“你想把这些东西带去——印度？”