新視野大學英語讀寫教程第二冊unit1-c Adjustment to a New Culture
- 聽力原文
- 參考譯文
Section C
Adjustment to a New Culture
I had to find more friends. After several weeks in school I knew a couple of students but saw them only a few minutes, perhaps three times a week. I decided to learn a few more names. I came ten minutes early to my News Media and U.S. Government class. Two young women, one black and one white, were already there. I told myself to be aggressive and went up to them.
"Hi." I tried to be casual. "My name is Liu Zongren. I come from Beijing, China." I stressed Beijing, hoping that might create some attention.
"Oh, really? How do you find it here? " The white woman seemed interested.
I couldn't understand what she meant. "I came here by plane, of course." I must have looked lost. The white woman added quickly, "I mean, do you like this country?"
"Well, I don't know. " How foolish I was. Why had I said this?
"My name is Ann. This is Geri."
Several other students had arrived by now. I didn't know if the two women wanted to go on talking. I began feeling nervous when I realized I was standing in the middle of the classroom.
Ann started to move away. "Glad to meet you, Mr.— "
"Liu," I said in haste, "Just call me Liu. My last, no, my first name is too hard to pronounce."
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Liu," Ann repeated.
"Thank you," I said, my face turning red. I wondered what I had thanked them for, as I made my way to a seat.
After the class began, most of what the professor said escaped my ears and I left as soon as the lecture ended. I had no other class that day and I didn't want to go back to the loneliness of the McKnight house, so I explored around the grounds. Many students were entering a particular lecture hall. I stopped and checked my list of classes. It was a history class. Good.
I went in. I sat in a seat away from the lecture stand. Nobody paid any attention to me. I saw several Asian faces among the crowd. I relaxed, took out my notebook, and opened the school newspaper, pretending to be an old hand. A young man sat down beside me and smiled. It was five minutes until class. Perhaps I could strike up a conversation with this friendly looking man. I started my set introduction. "My name is Liu Zongren. I come from Beijing, China."
"Glad to meet you. My name is George Christi." He seemed ready to talk.
"Please write down your name for me." I handed my notebook to him. "You know, it is very hard for me to remember American names without seeing them spelled out." I said this out of a desire to speak two more sentences, rather than as an explanation. I looked at what he wrote. "Is yours the same name as that British woman who writes mystery novels? "
"Sort of," he answered.
Seeing me at a loss, he asked, "How do you like the weather here?"
"Much the same as that in Beijing. We have cold winters, too."
"I hope someday I can go to Beijing."
"You'll be welcome. If you wait for two years, I can show you around." I was so very eager to make a friend of him.
Unfortunately, the professor appeared and the class began. I would be sure to come to this class again and locate this friendly person.
I didn't try my luck anymore that afternoon. Instead I found a seat in the library and tried to finish some assignments. I took out my books, but my mind refused to absorb anything. I glanced around the library; some students were doing their homework; a few were dozing on the sofa along the wall. Looking at those tired students, I remembered an article in the newspaper had reported that the 1981 fees would be $6,900. How could I blame them for not wanting to talk to me? Costs were so high; they had to put their time and energy into their studies.
I closed my books and began a letter to Fengyun, but couldn't finish it. Sad, I packed up my books and walked slowly back to my room. I knew my sadness came not only from missing my family, but also from the frustration of being unable to learn. People in Beijing must be thinking I was enjoying myself here in the richest country in the world. Yet I was suffering, not because people in America were not accepting me, but because they didn't understand me and didn't seem to care how I felt — and because I didn't understand them, either. After my three classes each day, I walked without aim around the grounds like a lost soul. I had no place to go.
I felt better when dusk fell, knowing that another day had passed.
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對新文化的適應
在美國度過的兩年我必須找到更多的朋友。 在學校生活了幾周后，我認識了幾個朋友，但和他們見面不過幾分鐘，也許每周可以見到他們三次。 我決定再認識幾個人。在上“新聞媒體和美國政府”這門課時， 我提前了10分鐘到達。有兩個姑娘, 一個黑人, 一個白人, 已經在教室里了。 我暗暗讓自己主動點，并向她們走去。“你好！” 我想隨便點。“我叫劉宗仁。我來自中國北京。” 我重把北京兩個字發(fā)得很重，以期引起她們的注意。“哦，是嗎？你是怎么來這里的？”那個白人姑娘好像很感興趣。我沒有弄懂她的意思。“我當然是乘飛機來這里的。”我當時的樣子肯定顯得有點茫然。 那個白人姑娘趕緊加了一句：“我的意思是, 你喜歡這個國家嗎？”“嗯，我吃不準。”我多笨啊！我干嘛要說這句話呢？“我的名字叫安。她叫杰瑞。”這時另外幾個學生也到了。 我不知道這兩位姑娘是否還想繼續(xù)和我的談話。 當我意識到我正站在教室中間時,我開始感到緊張了。安開始走開了。“見到你很高興，—— 先生。”“劉，”我趕緊說，”“叫我劉就可以了。我的姓，不，我的名字很難念。”
“見到你很高興，劉先生。” 安又說了一遍。
“謝謝，”我回答道，我的臉漲得通紅。當我朝座位走去時，我在想：我干嘛要謝她們呢？
上課開始后，教授講的東西我基本上沒有聽進去，一下課我就離開了教室。那天我的課都上完了，但是我不想回到麥克奈特那幢房子里去，孤孤單單的一個人呆在那里。所以我就在校園里四處轉悠。 許多學生在朝一個很別致的大教室走去。 我停下來，看了看我的課程表。這是一堂歷史課。很好。我走了進去。我坐在一個離講臺很遠的座位上。 沒有人注意到我。我在人群中看到了幾張亞洲人的臉。我放松下來， 拿出了筆記本， 接著打開了校報, 裝作是個老生。 一個小伙子坐到了我的旁邊，對我笑了笑。離上課還有5 分鐘。也許我可以和這個看上去很友好的男生說上幾句。我開始了我的一成不變的自我介紹：“我叫劉宗仁。我來自中國北京。”“見到你很高興。我叫喬治·克里斯蒂。”他好像很樂意與我交談。
“能否請您把你的名字寫給我看看。”我把筆記本遞給了他。 “你知道，如果我沒有看到美國人名字的寫法，我就很難記住它們。” 我這么說是想再講兩句話，而不是為了作解釋。 我看了看他寫下的名字。“你的名字和寫推理小說的英國女作家是一樣的嗎？他回答道：“差不多吧！”看到我那副茫然不知所措的樣子，他問道：“你喜歡這里的天氣嗎？“和北京的天氣差不多。我們那里冬天也很冷。”“我希望我有一天能到北京去。”“你會受到歡迎的。假如你能等兩年的話，我可以帶你去轉轉。”我非常非常急切地希望他能成為我的朋友。
令人遺憾的是這時教授進來了，開始上課了。 我肯定還會來聽這門課，并來尋找這個很友好的小伙子的。那天下午，我沒再去試試我的運氣, 而是到圖書館去找了一個座位，想完成一些作業(yè)。我拿出了書本，但我的腦子里什么東西也裝不進去了。 我環(huán)顧了一下圖書館：有些學生在做作業(yè)，還有幾個在墻邊的沙發(fā)上打磕睡。 看著這些疲憊的學生，我想起了報紙上登載的一篇文章。那篇文章說1981 年的學費將是6,900 美元。 我怎么能責備他們不跟我講話呢？ 學費太高了，他們得把他們的時間和精力投入到學習中去。我合上了書本，開始給鳳韻寫信，但我沒有寫完。 我感到難受, 收拾了書本就慢慢地朝我的房間走去。 我知道我的難受不僅僅是因為想念家，而且是因為自己無法集中精力學習而感到的沮喪。北京的親友們肯定認為我在這個世界上最富裕的國家里過得很開心。 然而我卻是在受苦，不是因為美國人不愿接受我，而是因為他們不理解我，而且好像一點也不關心我的感受 —— 還因為我也不理解他們。 每天上完三堂課后，我就像一個沒有歸宿的幽靈一樣在校園里游蕩。我無處可去。
夜幕降臨后，我感到好受些了，因為我知道又一天過去了。
