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Directions: There are two passages in this section with 10 questions. For each question, there are four choices marked A, B, C and D. You should decide on the best choice. Question 51-55 are based on the following passage. Our culture has caused most Americans to assume not only that our language is universal but that the gestures we use are understood by everyone. We do not realize that waving good-bye is the way to summon a person from the Philippines to one’s side, or that in Italy and some Latin-American countries, curling the finger to oneself is a sign of farewell. Those private citizens who sent packages to our troops occupying Germany after World War Ⅱ and marked them GIFT to escape duty payments did not bother to find out that "gift" means poison in German. Moreover, we like to think of ourselves as friendly, yet we prefer to be at least 3 feet or an arm’s length away from others. Latins and Middle Easterners like to come closer and touch, which makes Americans uncomfortable. Our linguistic and cultural blindness and the casualness with which we take notice of the developed tastes, gestures, customs and languages of other countries, are losing us friends, business and respect in the world. Even here in the United States, we make few concessions to the needs of foreign visitors. There are no information signs in four languages on our public buildings or monuments; we do not have multilingual guided tour. Very few restaurant menus have translations, and multilingual waiters, bank clerks and policemen are rare. Our transportation systems have maps in English only and often we ourselves have difficulty understanding them. When we go abroad, we tend to cluster in hotels and restaurants where English is spoken. The attitudes and information we pick up are conditioned by those natives--usually the richer--who speak English. Our business dealings, as well as the nation’s diplomacy, are conducted through interpreters. For many years, America and Americans could get by with cultural blindness and linguistic ignorance. After all, American was the most powerful country of the free world, the distributor of needed funds and goods. But all that is past. American dollars no longer buy all good things, and we are slowly beginning to realize that our proper role in the world is changing. A 1979 Harris poll reported that 55 percent of Americans want this country to play a more significant role in world affairs; we want to have a hand in the important decisions of the next century, even though it may not always be the upper land. It can be inferred that Americans being approached too closely by Middle Easterners would most probably ______.
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Questions 56-60 are based on the following passage. Jazz is the art of surprise, producing always the sudden and unexpected. But the blues is something else. Jazz has been developed into one of those intellectual art forms that scares people away. The blues can be faked. It is faked more today than ever before. But it is an emotional song and even the finest of blues singers cannot always possess true emotions, the real grief which is at the heart, in the soul. Of course, I had heard the blues all my life. I had heard it all as a teenage jazz fan in America, traveling long distances to sit, perfectly still, listening with religious reverence to the great progressive jazzmen of the day. But I was never moved by the blues until I was a young soldier, marching along one long, desperately hot afternoon under a south Texas sun. We were marching four abreast, rifles slung, singing as we swung along. An officer marched at the head of us. He did not sing. God knows how we hated them, the officers. We all hated them. The officer was only there for show. Like a fancy motor car radiator cap. Suddenly on our left there appeared this ghostly vision. All in white. Pure white. It was men. A prison work-gang. All black men dressed in white. They sang as they worked. They were not in chains, but men on horseback watched over them. The prison gang were singing some work-song. We all, all of us felt it; knew the feeling of the song for we were prisoners too and knew something at least of the longing that went into that song. Without ever stopping their work the black convict gang saw us. The scene, the beauty of their singing, of these black men who were the grandsons of kidnapped African men and women, the descendants of slaves, burned our eyes. The blues, sung like this, in the condition of penal servitude which was its true roots, and set against this dusty lonesome Southern backdrop, was the real thing. All the concerts, jazz sessions and recordings I had listened to again and again--none of them was like this. Which of the following is NOT true
Choose the answer that best completes the series. Euro, Dollar, France, Peso ...
Questions 56-60 are based on the following passage. Jazz is the art of surprise, producing always the sudden and unexpected. But the blues is something else. Jazz has been developed into one of those intellectual art forms that scares people away. The blues can be faked. It is faked more today than ever before. But it is an emotional song and even the finest of blues singers cannot always possess true emotions, the real grief which is at the heart, in the soul. Of course, I had heard the blues all my life. I had heard it all as a teenage jazz fan in America, traveling long distances to sit, perfectly still, listening with religious reverence to the great progressive jazzmen of the day. But I was never moved by the blues until I was a young soldier, marching along one long, desperately hot afternoon under a south Texas sun. We were marching four abreast, rifles slung, singing as we swung along. An officer marched at the head of us. He did not sing. God knows how we hated them, the officers. We all hated them. The officer was only there for show. Like a fancy motor car radiator cap. Suddenly on our left there appeared this ghostly vision. All in white. Pure white. It was men. A prison work-gang. All black men dressed in white. They sang as they worked. They were not in chains, but men on horseback watched over them. The prison gang were singing some work-song. We all, all of us felt it; knew the feeling of the song for we were prisoners too and knew something at least of the longing that went into that song. Without ever stopping their work the black convict gang saw us. The scene, the beauty of their singing, of these black men who were the grandsons of kidnapped African men and women, the descendants of slaves, burned our eyes. The blues, sung like this, in the condition of penal servitude which was its true roots, and set against this dusty lonesome Southern backdrop, was the real thing. All the concerts, jazz sessions and recordings I had listened to again and again--none of them was like this. Which of the following is NOT mentioned in the passage
Patty: Hello, could I speak to Mrs. Lee, please Betty: This is Betty Lee. Patty: Oh, Betty, this is Patty Wong. Bill and I will be having a buffet party next Saturday, and we’d like you to join us. Betty: We’d love to, Patty. ______ Patty: Oh, we’re celebrating our tenth wedding anniversary.
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