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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 t