1 . The baguette, a long, thin French bread, is being added to UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage (ICH,非物质文化遗产) list. UNESCO experts gathering in Morocco this week decided that the simple French bread — made only of flour, water, salt, and yeast — was worth U.N. recognition, after France’s culture ministry warned of a “continuous drop” in the number of traditional bakeries (烘焙坊), with some 400 closing every year over the past half century.

The UN cultural agency’s chief, Audrey Azoulay said, “The decision honors more than just bread; it recognizes the ‘graceful skills of bakers’ and ‘a daily ritual (仪式)’.” Azoulay added, “It is important that such baking knowledge and social practices can continue to exist in the future.”

With the bread’s new status (地位), the French government said it planned to create a baguette day, called the “Open Bake house Day”, to connect the French better with their heritage. Bakers in France seemed proud, if unsurprised. “Of course, it should be on the list because the baguette symbolizes the world. It’s universal,” said Asma Farhat, a baker at Julien’s Bakery. “If there’s no baguette, you can’t have a proper meal. In the morning you can toast it, for lunch it’s a sandwich, and then it accompanies dinner.”

Despite the decline in traditional bakery numbers, France’s 67 million people still buy baguettes at a variety of sales points, including in supermarkets. According to France’s “Bread Observatory”, the French eat 320 baguettes of one form or another every second. The problem is, observers say, that they can often be poor in quality. “It’s very easy to get bad baguette in France. It’s the traditional baguette from the traditional bakery that is in danger. It’s about quality not quantity,” said one local resident, Marine Fourchier.

2 . I often read of incidents of misunderstanding or conflict. I’m left _______. Why do these people create mistrust and problems, especially with those from other_______?

I was growing up in Kuala Lumpur in the early 1960s, when children from different races and religions played and studied together _______. At that time my family lived a stone’s _______ from Ismail’s. And no one was bothered that Ismail was a Malay Muslim and I was an Indian Hindu—we just _______ our differences. Perhaps, our elders had not filled our heads with unnecessary advice, well _______ or otherwise. We were nine when we became friends. During the school holidays, we’d explore the countryside on our bicycles, hoping to _______ the unexpected. At times Ismail would accompany my family as we made a rare shopping trip to town. We would be glad of his _______. When I was twelve, my family moved to Johor. Ismail’s family later returned to their village, and I lost touch with him.

One spring afternoon in 1983, I stopped a taxi in Kuala Lumpur. When I _______ my destination, the driver acknowledged my ________ but did not move off. Instead, he looked fixedly at me. “Raddar?” he said, using my childhood nickname. I was astonished at being so ________ addressed. Unexpectedly! It was Ismail! Even after two ________ we still recognized each other. Grasping his shoulder, I felt a true ________, something hard to describe.

If we can allow our children to be themselves without prejudice, they’ll build friendships with people ________ race or religion, who will be ________ their side through thick and thin. On such friendships are societies built and then we can truly be, as William Shakespeare once wrote, “We happy few. We band of brothers”.

4 . Wouldn’t it be wonderful to travel to a foreign country without having to worry about the headache of communicating in a different language?

In a recent Wall Street Journal article, technology policy expert Alec Ross argued that, within ten years or so, we would be able to communicate with one another through small earpieces with built-in microphones. That’s because technological progress is extremely fast. It’s only a matter of time. Such is the belief among certain parents that the technology is imminent and they’re wondering if their kids should learn a second language.

It’s true that an increase in the quantity and accuracy of the data loaded into computers will make them cleverer at translating “Noes Bueno dormer mucho” into “It’s not good to sleep too much”. Replacing a word with its equivalent (对等词) in the target language is actually the easy part of a translator’s job. But even this seems to be a difficult job for computers.

It’s so hard for computers because translation doesn’t — or shouldn’t — involve simply translating words, sentences or paragraphs. Rather, it’s about translating meaning. And in order to infer meaning from a specific expression, people need to understand a lot of information all at once. Think about all the related clues that help us understand what someone is trying to say: volume, gesture, situations, and even your culture. All are likely to convey as much meaning as the words you use.

Therefore, we should doubt a machine that can’t understand our world like we do. If people from different cultures can upset each other without realizing it, how can we expect a machine to do better? Unless engineers actually find a way to breathe a soul into a computer, undoubtedly when it comes to conveying and interpreting meaning using a natural language, a machine will never fully take our place.

5 . Life seems long when we’re looking ahead, and so short when we’re looking back. That’s especially true for a mother. One day you’re holding a two-month-old baby, wondering if he’s ever going to stop crying. And the next day you’re seeing him off at college, wondering if he’s ever going to call you.

Where does the time fly? I want my children to grow up, but I don’t want to let them go. The grown children can be as much fun as little ones. Here are two examples:

When my father-in-law died, I called my younger son Nate to say I’d drive up to Yosemite, and we’d drive out the next day to attend the funeral. It was snowing when I stopped in the park. The next morning, Nate and I left early, only to get stuck behind a bus with a flat tyre, blocking the road. We sat for five hours in a blizzard (暴风雪) waiting for the road to be cleared. Meanwhile, Nate entertained me with jokes. I will never forget it.

A few years later, I flew to New York to visit my elder son Josh. That night, Josh began having pain in his right side. We took a cab to a hospital and he had an operation. Afterwards, I stayed for a week to take care of him. We watched movies and ate take-out meals. I will never forget it.

Being a mother doesn’t end when our children grow up. We still want to protect them, just as we did the day they were born. And grown children will always need a mother. At the same time, we’ll always need our grown-up children to make us laugh and keep us young and fill that place in our heart that only they can fill.

8 . Friends always ask why I, a middle-aged woman with no athletic (运动) talent (天赋), travel to perilous places — the jungles (丛林) of Thailand or Borneo, for example, where the water is often unsafe and the food risky; places with infectious diseases, poisonous snakes and the wildest animals.

I never know how to answer. Nine years ago I suffered a stroke (中风). To prevent another stroke, my doctors told me, I’d have to take dangerously high levels of blood thinner (血液稀释剂) for the rest of my life and any travel would be risky (冒险的).

I had to think about what was important to me: family, of course, and friends. But then what? No matter how many times I thought about it, I could not be happy without travel. Then I had to decide how I might manage the risk.

The first real test of my travel courage came nine months after my stroke when I joined my husband, Jack, on a business trip to China. After we’d toured the remains of a Tang dynasty temple on a high mountain, Jack wanted to ride down on a toboggan (长雪橇).

Before the stroke it would’ve seemed like fun. But now? I hesitated. My mental klaxon (高音喇叭) screamed warnings about the consequences of a cut, a fall, and a crash. Then, gaining confidence from who knew where, I lowered myself carefully into the toboggan, which marked my adventure (冒险) travel come back.

In the years since then, I’ve traveled about twenty-five percent of the time. Through it all, my lucks held out — no deadly falls, no car accidents or serious infections. For me, adventure travel is a risk worth taking. Travel broadens my world and keeps me connected to nature. What’s more, saying “yes” to travel keeps me connected to myself.