高级期(Scaling Everest)
一般在第三阶段花了多少时间，自己都说不清楚了，效率再高至少也得有一年多吧，好在并不是每天都要花大量时间，平均每天一小时就好了。终于到了该向珠峰Mount Everest顶冲击了。先把一个不幸的消息告诉大家：我们的外语永远也不可能达到母语的水平（除非12岁以下就能实现流利交流，那本身形成的就是母语，不算外语）。我们可以将听，读达到近乎完美，写作也可以达到非常高的水平，虽然不大可能写诗歌或小说。但说外语的水平还是会跟母语有些差距。可以达到非常流利的程度，但在真实场景的时间压力和精神压力下，出现错误再所难免。而为了保证表达的速度和含义的准确，我们对所说语言的深度、幽默性，技巧性和艺术性都是不可能象母语那样运用自如的。但我们不必太苛求了，毕竟语言使用的目的是交流，深度交流达到了，目标就实现了，说的时候有少量错误不必太介意。
这一阶段学习有一些难处，首先是心理上的障碍。在这一阶段的同学，已经可以比较自如地用外语交流，一般阅读也困难不大。即使遇到不懂的外语，也不会紧张。在不懂的东西没有影响大意理解时，甚至意识不到自己其实还有不少听不懂和看不懂的英文，写作和说的水平还待提高。有的同学甚至会认为自己水平很高了，毕竟进行一般的口头和文字翻译工作也没有觉得做不了。看到和听到难度太高的材料时，态度往往是拒绝接受，而不是注意自己为什么还有不懂的；其次是数量上的障碍。我们曾经提到过，一方面，越往高处不懂的东西出现的几率越小，所以自然环境中学习的机会变小，但另一方面，需要学新东西总量确非常大。因为这个原因，再提高有一定困难，很多人也因此懒得再往深处学了。所以无论国内外，停留在此水平的同学非常多。但如果不继续提高，还是没有办法真正达到“自由的彼岸”，所以同志还是仍需努力呀。
到了这个阶段，我们已经不再是积极的“外语学习者”了，外语已经成为了我们生活的一部分，融入了我们的生活方式。这时外语是无所不在的。我们要做的，更多的是对这种生活方式的选择和控制，作到深入接触这一阶段适合的输入材料。
这一阶段的语言特点是知识层面的要求有时要超过基本语言本身的结构和流利性的要求，特别是文化因素的相关性，涉及包括科技，宗教，社交，音乐，体育，经济，政治，文化特点和思维习惯等等方面。提高的手段是多方面的，甚至可以背诵一些经典的文章。这时背诵的目的也不是掌握语言，更重要的是为了提高和语言有关的知识量，提高文化修养和写作能力。就象我们的小学生背诵文章不是为了提高语言能力，而是提高语文能力相类似。
听说
这是一般的交流已经提高不大了，甚至在国外的一般工作交流，普遍语言难度都比较简单。开会和谈判的语言会比较复杂，但往往因为注意力在谈判内容上，所以会忽略语言的要素。提高的手段可以是在谈判前对谈判中常使用的语言进行了解，再到谈判中实际应用提高。在与母语是英语的人交流时，需要选择对象，不是和谁交流都一样了，有的人语言习惯和深度比较适合，有的则没太多帮助。有人说话喜欢平铺直叙，有人说话喜欢“拽”，应用大量类比和暗喻，后者可能帮助比较大。大家可以找“Frasier”来看（中文叫欢乐一家亲）。其实该片的听力难度主要不是对英语反应慢，而是文化，社会和知识性成分太高，两男主角的讲话方式故意附庸风雅，所以难度颇高，没英文字幕不行。每句话在看到文字后还要琢磨半天。克林顿的演讲应该是非常好的听力素材。（不建议找以前名人的演讲，不是语言过时，而是文字太古板了。）
写
写作是此时输出的最好手段，因为一般的流利地说已经实现了，再说也是它了，听者也不会因为讲话深度低而有任何意见。而时间的紧迫也不容我们多思考去讲复杂的外语。所以在写作时可以放慢速度仔细斟酌语句。对写作水平本身的训练此时是非常起作用的。同样，对某些优秀文章和演讲的背诵也是提高写作的好办法。
阅读
深度阅读应该是此阶段最有效的提高手段。在这一阶段的应该加强与文化相关的阅读内容。比如Dan Brown的小说，较深地涉及到西方文化和宗教内容，语言流畅而不难懂，是比较合适的读物。（个人认为Angels and Demons 比 Da Vinci Code还精彩，Deception Point 和 Digital Fortress 一般，高科技不是他的长项）。如果对其小说和此宗教话题感兴趣，还可以关注作者的网站并跟踪此话题讨论组。比如关于Da Vinci神秘背景的的探讨：The Secret Life of Leonardo da Vinci：A prankster and genius, Leonardo da Vinci is widely believed to have hidden secret messages within much of his artwork. Most scholars agree that even Da Vinci’s most famous pieces—works like The Mona Lisa, The Last Supper, and Madonna of the Rocks—contain startling anomalies that all seem to be whispering the same cryptic message…a message that hints at a shocking historical secret which allegedly has been guarded since 1099 by a European secret society known as the Priory of Sion. In 1975, Paris’s Bibliothèque Nationale discovered parchments known as Les Dossiers Secrets, identifying numerous members of the Priory of Sion, including Sir Isaac Newton, Victor Hugo, Botticelli, and Leonardo da Vinci. French President, Francois Mitterrand, is rumored to have been a member, although there exists no proof of this.
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 compiling 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. Computers 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 coming 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
一般在第三阶段花了多少时间，自己都说不清楚了，效率再高至少也得有一年多吧，好在并不是每天都要花大量时间，平均每天一小时就好了。终于到了该向珠峰Mount Everest顶冲击了。先把一个不幸的消息告诉大家：我们的外语永远也不可能达到母语的水平（除非12岁以下就能实现流利交流，那本身形成的就是母语，不算外语）。我们可以将听，读达到近乎完美，写作也可以达到非常高的水平，虽然不大可能写诗歌或小说。但说外语的水平还是会跟母语有些差距。可以达到非常流利的程度，但在真实场景的时间压力和精神压力下，出现错误再所难免。而为了保证表达的速度和含义的准确，我们对所说语言的深度、幽默性，技巧性和艺术性都是不可能象母语那样运用自如的。但我们不必太苛求了，毕竟语言使用的目的是交流，深度交流达到了，目标就实现了，说的时候有少量错误不必太介意。
这一阶段学习有一些难处，首先是心理上的障碍。在这一阶段的同学，已经可以比较自如地用外语交流，一般阅读也困难不大。即使遇到不懂的外语，也不会紧张。在不懂的东西没有影响大意理解时，甚至意识不到自己其实还有不少听不懂和看不懂的英文，写作和说的水平还待提高。有的同学甚至会认为自己水平很高了，毕竟进行一般的口头和文字翻译工作也没有觉得做不了。看到和听到难度太高的材料时，态度往往是拒绝接受，而不是注意自己为什么还有不懂的；其次是数量上的障碍。我们曾经提到过，一方面，越往高处不懂的东西出现的几率越小，所以自然环境中学习的机会变小，但另一方面，需要学新东西总量确非常大。因为这个原因，再提高有一定困难，很多人也因此懒得再往深处学了。所以无论国内外，停留在此水平的同学非常多。但如果不继续提高，还是没有办法真正达到“自由的彼岸”，所以同志还是仍需努力呀。
到了这个阶段，我们已经不再是积极的“外语学习者”了，外语已经成为了我们生活的一部分，融入了我们的生活方式。这时外语是无所不在的。我们要做的，更多的是对这种生活方式的选择和控制，作到深入接触这一阶段适合的输入材料。
这一阶段的语言特点是知识层面的要求有时要超过基本语言本身的结构和流利性的要求，特别是文化因素的相关性，涉及包括科技，宗教，社交，音乐，体育，经济，政治，文化特点和思维习惯等等方面。提高的手段是多方面的，甚至可以背诵一些经典的文章。这时背诵的目的也不是掌握语言，更重要的是为了提高和语言有关的知识量，提高文化修养和写作能力。就象我们的小学生背诵文章不是为了提高语言能力，而是提高语文能力相类似。
听说
这是一般的交流已经提高不大了，甚至在国外的一般工作交流，普遍语言难度都比较简单。开会和谈判的语言会比较复杂，但往往因为注意力在谈判内容上，所以会忽略语言的要素。提高的手段可以是在谈判前对谈判中常使用的语言进行了解，再到谈判中实际应用提高。在与母语是英语的人交流时，需要选择对象，不是和谁交流都一样了，有的人语言习惯和深度比较适合，有的则没太多帮助。有人说话喜欢平铺直叙，有人说话喜欢“拽”，应用大量类比和暗喻，后者可能帮助比较大。大家可以找“Frasier”来看（中文叫欢乐一家亲）。其实该片的听力难度主要不是对英语反应慢，而是文化，社会和知识性成分太高，两男主角的讲话方式故意附庸风雅，所以难度颇高，没英文字幕不行。每句话在看到文字后还要琢磨半天。克林顿的演讲应该是非常好的听力素材。（不建议找以前名人的演讲，不是语言过时，而是文字太古板了。）
写
写作是此时输出的最好手段，因为一般的流利地说已经实现了，再说也是它了，听者也不会因为讲话深度低而有任何意见。而时间的紧迫也不容我们多思考去讲复杂的外语。所以在写作时可以放慢速度仔细斟酌语句。对写作水平本身的训练此时是非常起作用的。同样，对某些优秀文章和演讲的背诵也是提高写作的好办法。
阅读
深度阅读应该是此阶段最有效的提高手段。在这一阶段的应该加强与文化相关的阅读内容。比如Dan Brown的小说，较深地涉及到西方文化和宗教内容，语言流畅而不难懂，是比较合适的读物。（个人认为Angels and Demons 比 Da Vinci Code还精彩，Deception Point 和 Digital Fortress 一般，高科技不是他的长项）。如果对其小说和此宗教话题感兴趣，还可以关注作者的网站并跟踪此话题讨论组。比如关于Da Vinci神秘背景的的探讨：The Secret Life of Leonardo da Vinci：A prankster and genius, Leonardo da Vinci is widely believed to have hidden secret messages within much of his artwork. Most scholars agree that even Da Vinci’s most famous pieces—works like The Mona Lisa, The Last Supper, and Madonna of the Rocks—contain startling anomalies that all seem to be whispering the same cryptic message…a message that hints at a shocking historical secret which allegedly has been guarded since 1099 by a European secret society known as the Priory of Sion. In 1975, Paris’s Bibliothèque Nationale discovered parchments known as Les Dossiers Secrets, identifying numerous members of the Priory of Sion, including Sir Isaac Newton, Victor Hugo, Botticelli, and Leonardo da Vinci. French President, Francois Mitterrand, is rumored to have been a member, although there exists no proof of this.
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 compiling 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. Computers 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 coming 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