我学英语走过的弯路(_全_)-第27节
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教科书
此阶段用外语进行某个学科知识的学习对提高语言水平效果明显。比如金融，经济，计算机等等。国外各学科学习的书，从内容上讲，阅读难度并不大，不象中国的教科书。当年学习计算机硬件基础，看了清华大学潭浩强的书，才看两页就要跳楼，天书啊！后来找了本英文的教材，小人书啊！各种故事，各种比喻（这象抽屉那象桌面的，排队先进屋的后出来等等），各种图画解释，玩儿似的就看完了，结果比其他同学理解还深刻。对此无话可说了。后来还看了些英文的风水书，也居然比中文的还好看。大家无论对任何科目有兴趣，不妨去找英文的教材来看。
如果说第三阶段已经没有固定的方法的话，第四阶段可以说都看不到方法了，已经是Life Style了。大家继续提高，努力一定会有更多的报，因为高的语言水平下才能够更自由地应用和操作高难度的英语任务，而这种水平的人并不多，竞争反而小。想二十年多前刚改革开放，小学英语老师可以成为外企的首代，现在一般交流能力已经比较常见，但高水平才是少数的。希望大家都能实现自己的目标。
差不多就到这里吧
老友Kerry，苏格兰人（总不愿说自己是英国人），会四种语言：英语，西班牙语，泰语和中文。他总是想各种办法鼓动我也赶快退休，好和他去旅行和钓鱼。“We are not getting any younger。”是他的口头禅。几个月前他真的提前退休了，先从北京去了新疆，后去了西班牙，然后就玩儿失踪。几天前过44岁生日，想起中文里数字44不吉利，才想起来写信回给还在中国的老友，题目就叫“双死生日 Double die birthday”。因为他自己是多语言大师，写出的信当然比较有趣。能达到看懂这样的文章，第四阶段也就差不多了。提前退休的想法好诱惑呀。是学好了外语就能提前退休呢，还是学好外语就不会退休了呢？姑且认为我能活88岁吧，那计划44岁退休可以了。呵呵，没几年了。
“Double die birthday”
“…on the road again； just can’t wait to…” Yep； Willie’s classic plucked from the sound track of Kurt Russell’s latest cult B； “Escape from Beijing”； played as we steered the boat out of Port Vell Barcelona。 At it again。 A thousand apologies for being off the radar as far as maintaining contact with dry land； homes and offices etc goes but I’m having too much fun。
I used to be better。 You’d see me pounding away earnestly at some unfortunate Dell keyboard； furrowed brow and distant stare。 Hopefully all that passed would have bitten the ruse； “Jeez； Kerry’s hard at it again today； must be writing up those results from the training session he had with the cleaners yesterday…” Eh； no。 I’d have been piling the match report from the mighty Athletico Beijing’s latest victory or revealing my life story and deepest thoughts to some bemused and unfortunate French Polynesian I’d met on an orange bus to Meihongsong seventeen years ago。
Not any more； despite never having anything better to do than that in my previous incarnation as an extremely unwilling employee； I do now。 puters and all their associated Christmas tree bobbles don’t do it for me right now。 Hence the mail to all final throw； I’m getting snowed under like it was Dundee in 1977。 My apologies。
Since they tore the Dell from my steely grip eleven months ago； it’s been Kashgar； Beijing； Thailand； Beijing and now Catalunya； the Baleares； once more。 A summer sabbatical sailing around the three little Mediterranean beauties。 We have been spinning the boat around the coasts of Ibiza； Mallorca and Menorca more times than the plundering Phoenicians； Turks； Moors and Romans put together。 If they all came here for their holidays there’s got to be something to the place。
We sailed out of Port Vell on the night of Sant Joan； the patron saint of Cataluna。 The whole midnight coast a…blaze with fireworks。 Could have been just for us； but wasn’t； we didn’t care。 The crossing over the Mediterranean to the islands takes around 24 hours and I’ve always fished and caught something big and scary during it。 This time it was an early morning Dorada out for the papers and rolls； he got a mouthful of Rapala instead。 Depending on which part of the world you are in； a Dorada could also be called a Mahi Mahi； or a Dolfin fish； so if you live in the Pacific you’ll know what I’m on about。 A hard fighting pelagic brute is a hard fighting pelagic brute by any other name and this was living up to its fight card billing。 As long as my leg and considerably more attractive it wore me out at 6：00 just as my helm watch started。 I got it out of the water and thought it was over。 He was resting with one eye closed。 The thing thrashed and bucked around like a Glaswegian being dragged from the bar and damn near broke my arm。 A long story cut short into steaks for those shadow people who don’t appreciate the fine art of fishing； the Mahi Mahi fed fourteen on a happy catamaran that very night。 A la plancha with a little salt。 Then it fed five more the day after in a cerviche； a fitting end。
So we were off with a bang。 Since then it has been all good； very； very good。 The gourmet tour of Baleares island spinning continues with good； good people ing and leaving the boat and lots of good； good food。 We had a lot of baby chefs this year； great。 I had a week shore leave with me mom and dad。 Crunching wild onion bulbs； sniffing the Romero bushes and fighting mad goats。 More crossings more islands。 More outrageous sailing； good fun and the turquoise Menorcan special sub； at anchor over 8 meters of crystal on white sand； try staying out； just try。 More shore leave in an Ibizan finca。 A three hundred year old farmhouse with the typical white cubic forms of the island。 Grown organically over the years to fit the land and the needs of the expanding family； you couldn’t design it； you’d need to grow it。 Hippy hang out with hammocks and marijuana the most widely accessible features。 More goats。 More sailing。
More shore leave。 Back to Menorca； the Phoenicians never had it this good I bet。 This time to spend six days hiking the Cami de Cavals which according to the map is a horse trails of great and noble antiquity that the Menorcans used to defend their wee island from those Phoenicians。 Not anymore。 They drive Volkswagen Golfs and Seat Leons now。 They have horses but they are strictly for high days and holidays。 The trail is purely for the goats now。 Goats and outsiders with tourist’s maps and tennis shoes。 The goats’ revenge。 Goats don’t do straight lines； they make maps of the brain； in constant craving of having a brain worth bragging about。 Not easy； if you consider hiking the Cami de Cavals speak to me first； don’t listen to the goats or any Menorcan fisherman。 Six days and five nights got me to the last piece of the trail； between Punta Nati and Cuitadella。 Past the impenetrable forest； through the thistle jungle； over the vulture’s mountain and down the ravines full of kestrels。 Then it was my birthday。
The last part of the north coast； providing you are going from Mahon to Cuitadella and not the other way； has no trees。 The full whack of the Tramuntana wind thumps through and between it and the damn goats； nothing grows over ten inches。 The last four nights I’d been swinging happily in a night time hammock between pines and cork oaks。 One of our guest cooks； Tom； is an “extreme through hiker”； I’m more your extremely scratched up and thoroughly knackered hiker by this time。 Anyway； he lent me his whizzo hammock with mosquito net and fly sheet attached and it was my bed。 But I need trees and need rest。 The last night was also my birthday； did I mention that already？ Maybe。 Determined to eat my tuna and tortilla sandwiches； tin of sardines and bag of potato crisps； standard Spanish hikers’ fare and watch the sunset； I figure out how someone could sling a hammock with no trees。 I found my place in a ravine full of kestrels。 The rocks had the answer。 Full of volcanic bubbles of gas long gone； I threaded the strings from one side of the barranco to the other。 After a fair to middling degree of hippy happy induced paranoia about crashing to the rocks below； spent my birthday swinging in a ravine looking out west over the Mediterranean。 Handy for spotting Turks。
Forty Four。 Two numbers fours。 In Mandarin； “si si”。 The Chinese don’t care for the number four。 They go to great lengths to avoid phone numbers that include it； pay a fortune for car number plates that are four…less and would never consider putting a number four； fourteen or twenty fourth floor in their buildings。 The Mandarin for four sounds exactly like the Mandarin for die。 Forty four； double trouble； double die。 Yikes。 So； tempting bitter fate I’d survived my double die first night swinging from the rocks in a ravine full of kestrels； menos mal。
More sailing…。。
Take care； enjoy； love Kerry XX
作者：漏屋 日期：2007…09…27 12：26
相信大家都和我一样，看英语教父的文章感到好有趣，难得有人能以如此心态对待这个一般有点知识的人都会绷着大脸教训人的话题。可能是有鲁迅先生论的中国人缺乏的反骨吧。反潮流没问题，高兴归高兴，科学还是科学，科学研究本身还是个严肃的事。王朔的出现另读者欣喜，但也不能妄言他颠覆了文坛，更不能令他摇身一变成为科学家或佛学家，大家别被“千岁寒”搞糊涂了。
语言的发音
全世界各国的科学家和语言学家，对人类不同人种，性别，年龄和语言的发音进行过多年的研究，各国的研究成果都很丰富且得到公认。研究发现男性平均发音频率为120赫兹，女性平均为210赫兹，各国语言几乎没有差异，反而是性别和年龄的差异远高过不同语种之间
