容嬷嬷201
[00:00.49]Customs Officers are quite tolerant these days, [00:04.10]but they can still stop you when you are going through the Green Channel and have nothing to declare. [00:10.03]Even really honest people are often made to feel guilty. [00:14.23]The hardened professional smuggler, on the other hand, is never troubled by such feelings, even if he has five hundred gold watches hidden in his suitcase. [00:23.82]When I returned from abroad recently, a particularly officious young Customs Officer clearly regarded me as a smuggler. [00:32.80]'Have you anything to declare?' he asked, looking me in the eye. [00:37.32]'No', I answered confidently. [00:40.14]Would you mind unlocking this suitcase please? [00:43.67]'Not at all,' I answered. [00:45.89]The Officer went through the case with great care. [00:49.62]All the things I had packed so carefully were soon in a dreadful mess. [00:54.37]I felt sure I would never be able to close the case again. [00:58.53]Suddenly, I saw the Officer's face light up. [01:02.25]He had spotted a tiny bottle at the bottom of my case and he pounced on it with delight. [01:09.28]'Perfume, eh?' he asked sarcastically. [01:12.60]You should have declared that. Perfume is not exempt from import duty. [01:17.64]'But it isn't perfume,' I said. [01:20.10]'It's hair gel.' Then I added with a smile, [01:24.02]'It's a strange mixture I make myself.' [01:27.34]As I expected, he did not believe me. [01:30.75]'Try it!' I said encouragingly. [01:33.52]The officer unscrewed the cap and put the bottle to his nostrils. [01:38.27]He was greeted by an unpleasant smell which convinced him that I was telling the truth. [01:44.08]A few minutes later, I was able to hurry away with precious chalk marks on my baggage. 如果你想下载可以去
TracyJunli
Lesson 48 The silent village In this much-travelled world, there are still thousands of places which are inaccessible to tourists. We always assume that villagers in remote places are friendly and hospitable. But people who are cut off not only from foreign tourists, but even from their own countrymen can be hostile to travellers. Visits to really remote villages are seldom enjoyable -- as my wife and I discovered during a tour through the Balkans. We had spent several days in a small town and visited a number of old churches in the vicinity. These attracted many visitors, for they were not only of great architectural interest, but contained a large number of beautifully preserved frescoes as well. On the day before our departure, several bus loads of tourists descended on the town. This was more than we could bear, so we decided to spend our last day exploring the countryside. Taking a path which led out of the town, we crossed a few fields until we came to a dense wood. We expected the path to end abruptly, but we found that it traced its way through the trees. We tramped through the wood for over two hours until we arrived at a deep stream. We could see that the path continued on the other side, but we had no idea how we could get across the stream. Suddenly my wife spotted a boat moored to the bank. In it there was a boatman fast asleep. We gently woke him up and asked him to ferry us to the other side. Though he was reluctant to do so at first, we eventually persuaded him to take us. The path led to a tiny village perched on the steep sides of a mountain. The place consisted of a straggling unmade road which was lined on either side by small houses. Even under a clear blue sky, the village looked forbidding, as all the houses were built of grey mud bricks. The village seemed deserted, the only sign of life being an ugly-looking black goat on a short length of rope tied to a tree in a field nearby. Sitting down on a dilapidated wooden fence near the field, we opened a couple of tins of sardines and had a picnic lunch. All at once, I noticed that my wife seemed to be filled with alarm. Looking up I saw that we were surrounded by children in rags who were looking at us silently as we ate. We offered them food and spoke to them kindly, but they remained motionless. I concluded that they were simply shy of strangers. When we later walked down the main street of the villager, we were followed by a silent procession of children. The village which had seemed deserted, immediately came to life. Faces appeared at windows. Men in shirt sleeves stood outside their houses and glared at us. Old women in black shawls peered at us from doorways. The most frightening thing of all was that not a sound could be heard. There was no doubt that we were unwelcome visitors. We needed no further warning. Turning back down the main street, we quickened our pace and made our way rapidly towards the stream where we hoped the boatman was waiting.
