你有多久沒好好說過“再見”了？

你有多久沒好好說過“再見”了？

在這個交流愈發(fā)便捷的世界，當(dāng)距離不再成為問題，名為“離別”的情緒已是明日黃花。

測試中可能遇到的詞匯和知識：

blubber又哭又鬧；哭['bl?b?]

compress受壓縮小；壓縮；精簡[k?m'pres]

venture off冒險

considerable相當(dāng)大的；重要的[k?n's?d(?)r?b(?)l]

jaunt遠(yuǎn)足；短途旅游[d???nt]

forecourt前院；前場['f??k??t]

The Fast Lane: when did you last have a proper, blubbering farewell?（815 words）

By Anjana Ahuja

Here's a little conversation-starter for the Saturday morning breakfast table: when was the last time you bid someone a proper, emotional farewell?

I'm not talking about a simple hug at a departure gate or a wave from a railway platform — I'm thinking proper blubbering, handkerchiefs and a sense of sudden separation. Was it 30 years ago, following a reunion with your college mate from Harare? Or was it more recently? Perhaps 20 years ago, when you said farewell to some relatives who were packing up and heading off to New Zealand to live out their retirement? Or is it hard to remember because the emotional farewell has become a thing of the past in a world of nonstop connections, cheaper airfares, video connectivity and constant communication?

Even though the grandchildren were carted off to live in Buenos Aires by your free-spirited daughter and your under-employed son-in-law, do low-cost fares, more economical Boeings, jumbo phone screens and a steady stream of updates make you feel any closer than you might have done a decade ago? Or is it a somewhat false sense of presence? Or is it that distances have been compressed and work patterns have changed so that nothing is quite as far away or as permanent as it once was?

In some corners of the world you still get a sense that people do venture off for long periods from their friends and family and they may not meet again for a considerable stretch. The welcome committees at Manila airport are a reminder that many Filipinos are at sea for years, not months. Likewise, the families waiting at Melbourne airport in the wee hours hint at the fact that young Aussies still go on grand tours, and that mamas still wait for their sons and daughters, no matter how much time they might spend on Skype.

For the past four years I've had a travel companion who, despite a somewhat awkward introduction, became a firm friend of the family. We were introduced in Zurich by friends from Tokyo and at various periods over the past few years we've done some of the better road trips I can remember. Indeed many were recounted on this very page. You might recall a winter jaunt from South Tyrol across to Trieste, where we enjoyed the moody Adriatic coast shortly after the Christmas break and found some proper treasure troves bursting with modernist antiques from the 1950s and 1960s, including all manner of paraphernalia recalling the city's glory days as a key port for the former Austrian Empire.

That trip also introduced us to Udine and its smart shops, excellent cafés and strong design heritage. Just the other day, I was looking through pictures from that brief visit and was reminded of the excellent graphics that adorn vintage storefronts and the feeling that this was a city with a work ethic more closely aligned to Munich's than to that of Naples.

On that same trip we also found ourselves in one of the more forgotten corners of Italy. It was a place where the villages had died, the infrastructure was collapsing and you had the creepy feeling that you could be writing your way into the gruesome opening scene of some Italian noir thriller that might be picked up by BBC4, one in which the happy road-trippers are run off the road by some haggard forester in a 4WD Fiat Panda and then locked up in some basement tethered to hooks once used for drying locally produced speck.

Last summer we did our longest-ever road trip, which took us from the heart of Mitteleuropa all the way up to the west coast of Sweden and back again. On this journey the drive up was punctuated by the Brexit vote and a very depressing morning spent in a damp, grey Hamburg — but our dear travel companion kept the mood buoyant with the right tunes and generally sunny outlook on life. I'm not sure if it was his Japanese-Canadian roots that made him such good company (his generally easy manner mixed with good style) or the fact that he was up for most adventures and rarely made much of a fuss.

Two weeks ago it was time to say our farewells and for a variety of reasons I knew it was going to be permanent. Just as we'd met in Zurich, it was also the place where we said our goodbyes — this time in the forecourt of the Baur au Lac rather than a parking lot near the airport hotel. I had had a good run with my muscular, well-behaved Lexus and as I pulled away in a distant cousin of his (a Toyota Prius) I gave him a little wave and even felt a bit teary.

The hunt's now on for a new companion for another chapter of road trips but this time I'm thinking he might be German.