English Paper 2 (QP)

This question paper consists of 8 printed pages.
SB (SC) QK11005/4
UCLES 2001 [Turn over
International General Certificate of Secondary Education
UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE LOCAL EXAMINATIONS SYNDICATE
FIRST LANGUAGE ENGLISH 0500/2
PAPER 2 Reading and Directed Writing
OCTOBER/NOVEMBER SESSION 2001 2 hours 15 minutes
Additional materials:
Answer paper
TIME 2 hours 15 minutes
INSTRUCTIONS TO CANDIDATES
Write your name, Centre number and candidate number in the spaces provided on the answer paper/
answer booklet.
Answer all questions.
Write your answers on the separate answer paper provided.
If you use more than one sheet of paper, fasten the sheets together.
INFORMATION FOR CANDIDATES
The number of marks is given in brackets [ ] at the end of each question or part question.
Dictionaries are not permitted.
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Part 1
The following passages describe encounters with rare and amazing animals. Read them carefully and
then answer Questions 1 and 2.
Passage A
Eric, aged seven, his sister and his parents have come to live in a lonely part of Alaska. Eric is caught
in a sudden snowstorm and runs for shelter to a hut made of grass turf. He only just manages to reach
it.
He collapsed face down on the threshold, gasping for breath. The first thing he
noticed was the smell and for a second he drew back, uncertain. Then the gravel beat
stinging against his legs, and he squirmed quickly in.
The hut was small and dark; it had no window or chimney; its door was simply a
couple of movable turves which Eric, from the inside, now hauled-to to keep out of the
wind. As the turves were pulled in the moan of the storm faded, the last glimmer of light
was snuffed out, and the smell strong and piercing rose pungently out of the dark. On
the far side of the sod hut something moved.
The little boy peered into the darkness, suddenly afraid. Twin circles of fire swayed
up from the floor; twin balls of red aglow like coals in the dark. And Eric shrank back,
appalled. Something was in the sod hut: some wild and terrible animal perhaps a great
Kodiak bear with foot-long claws that could rip the guts from a caribou in a single slash.
He spun around. He tore at the door turves. Then he remembered the storm.
He stood very still, teeth clenched, eyes screwed tight. Waiting. But the wild and
terrible animal didnt spring at him. Everything was motionless and very quiet
everything except his heart which was pounding in frightened leaps between mouth and
stomach, and after a while even the pound of his heart sank to a muffled uncertain throb.
Hesitantly he unscrewed his eyes, ready to snap them shut the moment the animal
moved. But the circles of red were motionless. The creature whatever it was kept to
the farther side of the hut.
He peered into the blackness. At first he could see only the red of the eyes, but
gradually as he became accustomed to the dark he could make out more: a shadowy
mass, coiled and menacing, stretching almost a third of the way round the wall. The
animal was large; but to his unspeakable relief it wasnt thickset and solid enough to
be a bear. He began to breathe more easily.
After a while he became conscious of a faint persistent sound: a sound so low that it
had been drowned up to now by the thud of his heart and the background moan of the
storm. It was a sucky, slobbery sound: a sound he had heard before years and years ago
when he was very small; it wasnt a sound to be frightened of; he knew that; its
associations were pleasant. His fear began to go away. Perhaps the creature was friendly;
perhaps it would let him stay; perhaps the hut was a refuge they could both, in time of
emergency, share.
His mind seized onto the idea, thankfully. He remembered a picture in one of his story
books: a picture of a little boy (no older than he was) and all sorts of different animals
lying together on a flood-ringed island; and he remembered his father reading the
caption, Then the wolf shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with
the bird, and the young lion and the fatling together, and he remembered his father
explaining that in times of great danger fire or flood, tempest or drought all living
things reverted to their natural state and lived peacefully together until the danger was
passed. This, he told himself, must be such a time.
He stared at the glowing eyes. And quite suddenly his fear was submerged in a great
flood of curiosity. What was this strange red-eyed creature? It was too big for a fox or a
hare, and not the right shape for a bear or a caribou. If only he could see it!
He remembered then that somewhere in every hut his father had placed matches and
candles.
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An older boy would have hesitated now. An older boy would have had second
thoughts and a legacy of fear. But to Eric things were uncomplicated. He had been
frightened, but that was in the past: now he was curious. For a little boy of seven it was
as simple as that.
He felt round the wall till his hand struck a metal box. He prized off the lid. He found
and lit one of the candles. A flickering light leapt round the hut. And the little boys
breath stuck in his throat and he could only stare and stare. For never in all his life had
he seen anything so beautiful.
She lay curled up against the wall: a sinuous seven-foot golden seal, her fur like a
field of sun-drenched corn; and clinging to her teats two soft-furred pups, their eyes still
closed.
Holding the candle high, his fear quite lost in wonder, he walked towards her.
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Passage B
The day I saw a yeti
For years scientists were unsure of what a yeti (or Abominable Snowman) was. Some thought it was a
type of ape, but in this article its true identity is revealed.
Roger Boyes meets the man tracking
the abominable snowman
The midsummer sun was setting and Reinhold Messner felt suddenly cold. In
a gap between wild rhododendron bushes he saw a dark shape. A yak,* I
thought, and I was looking forward to meeting some Tibetans, having a warm
evening meal and a roof over my head. Messner, one of the worlds best climbers
perhaps the very best had nothing but a sleeping bag, some hard bread and
lard and a cape. No tent. A yak meant civilisation of sorts.
But this was no yak. There were no whistling herdsmen, no grunting animals.
Out into the clearing ran a giant animal on two legs. It was as if my own
shadow had been projected ten yards onto the clearing. As he moved on,
unsettled, he came across a footprint in the mud. He could make out what
seemed to be the traces of toes. Messner tried his weight on the mud. Even with
his climbing boot, his foot made a lesser imprint. The creature was heavy, more
than 100 kilograms.
It was, in fact or perhaps one should say in myth a yeti, the abominable
snowman on a summer outing. That first encounter, in 1986, sent Messner on a
12-year mission to find the yeti: not to hunt it down and bring back its pelt but
to find a way of separating the zoological facts from the sherpa legends of the
Himalayas.
The climbers first discovery was that the yeti was almost certainly the same
creature that Tibetan mountain people and monks call the chemo. In one
sighting of the yeti, he was terrified by the high whistle that came from its
mouth, a kind of piping noise channelled between its tongue and upper jaw. And
the stench! It was like frozen garlic, rancid fat and yak dung. The skull was as
big as that of a yak but without horns.
He described the animal to mountain nomads, who said immediately: That is
the chemo. It lives in woodlands, but in high summer it follows the nomads up
to the snowy peaks and crosses glaciers to reach distant valleys. They kill goats,
sheep, even yaks, the nomads told Messner. The chemo carries its offspring on
its back. It is like a cross between a bear and a human. He eats what we eat
meat, fruit, berries, vegetables, roots and he lives where we live. When he stares
into the sun, he blinks like we blink.
There have been Chinese sightings of the yeti. In 1977 Yang Wanchun came
face to face with a tall creature covered with hair. Only an irrigation ditch
separated them. The hairy being let out 11 or 12 different sounds. He chirruped
like a sparrow, barked like a dog, whinnied like a pony, growled like a leopard
and whimpered like a child. Yang pelted it with stones and it scurried for cover.
The description of the creature matches that of the nomads and sherpas. The
footprints show clearly differentiated claws, like those seen by Messner.
Yetis can kill 550-kilo yaks with a blow to the spine. They can cross fierce
streams which would be unpassable for me, says Messner, who has written a
book about his quest: Yeti Legend and Reality. The account of his quest is
fascinating, but his conclusion is something of a letdown. The yeti is not a
humanoid, not the missing link but merely a big bear, Ursus arctus, albeit a
completely wild, often savage creature. It is still possible, concedes Messner,
that there is, somewhere in the world, another yeti-like animal which will
continue to excite our curiosity about the mysterious world of nature.
(The Times, 3 October 1998)
*yak: a large ox
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1 Eric, Reinhold Messner and Yang Wanchun all have exciting encounters with unusual animals.
Summarise the impressions and emotions that go through their minds.
Use your own words as far as possible.
Write 11 sides, allowing for the size of your handwriting. [20]
2 Both the golden seal and the yeti are rare and remarkable animals adapted to their own wild and
lonely habitats. Some people would wish to leave them there, some would want to shoot them and
others would capture them and put them in zoos.
Write the words of a TV discussion in which you make a reasoned case for leaving the golden
seal and the yeti alone in the wild. Also taking part in the discussion are a hunter and a zoo-keeper
who have their points to make.
Write your answer in playscript form. Begin with these words:
Me: I dont suppose that seeing a golden seal or a yeti in captivity could ever compare with
the amazing experience of meeting one face to face.
Hunter:
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Part 2
3 A Year Out!
Many people these days take a year out, doing something entirely different from studying, before
they go on to the next stage in their lives.
You have a choice of one of the three options A, B, or C printed on the opposite page. Which do
you think might suit you the most and which would you be least prepared to do? Give your
reasons.
Make close reference to the material.
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C. Live at home and take responsibility
I worked as a helper in a local school, says Aftab. Most of the time I shadowed two
pupils who were severely disabled. I kept an eye on them during breaks and helped in
lessons. It was a great school the teachers treated me like a proper member of staff.
Collette was taken on by a computer firm in her own town. I learned so much and they let
me have real responsibility after a month or so. I worked on a new, top-secret project.
Advantages Disadvantages
learn about the world of work work not always worthwhile
start at the bottom and progress a bit living at home limits experience
meet others and make professional friendships the boss might not like you
earn money and spend little you may not last the whole year
B. Join a project abroad
I went to the Amazon, says Gregor. The expedition was searching for a rare plant with
medicinal properties. The experience was out of this world, but the work was unremitting.
Its taken weeks to recover.
Thandie worked in a field hospital for sick children in Botswana: It made me guilty when I
realised how well off I am. It was so sad seeing the children suffering, but so good to feel I
played a part in helping them. I still dream of their faces.
do really worthwhile work work physically and emotionally gruelling
remarkable experiences pay very small or non-existent
belong to a team living conditions may be hard
your work is valued others may be unsympathetic to you
A. Take risks and explore the world
I went with friends, says Maria. Luckily we got on really well together, and our old van
hardly ever broke down.
Stefan says, You can choose where you want to go and when. We climbed mountains,
trekked through jungles, swam in warm water and ate the most unusual foods. What a
life!
You need to take things sensibly, says Olga. I mean you must be fit to walk in the
Himalayas. You have to know the local customs and make a real attempt to learn the
language of each country you visit.
meet all sorts of people health hazards
make lasting friendships finance uncertain
learn to survive/make decisions difficulties in communication
control your own destiny out on your own
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Copyright Acknowledgements:
Passage A. James Vance Marshall (John Johnson Ltd), A River Ran Out of Eden (1962) (extract)
Passage B. Roger Boyes, The Times 3 October 1998
Cambridge International Examinations has made every effort to trace copyright holders, but if we have inadvertently overlooked any we will be pleased to make
the necessary arrangements at the first opportunity.

UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE INTERNATIONAL EXAMINATIONS

FIRST LANGUAGE ENGLISH
0500/02

Paper 2 Reading Passages
May/June 2006

2 hours
Additional Materials: Answer Booklet/Paper

READ THESE INSTRUCTIONS FIRST

If you have been given an Answer Booklet, follow the instructions on the front cover of the Booklet.
Write your Centre number, candidate number and name on all the work you hand in.
Write in dark blue or black pen.
Do not use staples, paper clips, highlighters, glue or correction fluid.

At the end of the examination, fasten all your work securely together.

This document consists of 5 printed pages and 3 blank pages.
IB06 06_0500_02/3RP
UCLES 2006

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Part 1

Read Passage A carefully, and then answer Questions 1 and 2.

Passage A

This story was written a long time ago. It is about a hotel in the state of Victoria, Australia.

The Shamrock Hotel

Not a days tramp from Ballarat, set well back from a dusty track that started nowhere in particular and
had no destination worth mentioning, stood the Shamrock Hotel. It was a low, rambling, disjointed
structure, and bore strong evidence of having been designed by an amateur artist in a moment of
drunken frenzy. It reached out in several well-defined angles, and had a lean-to building stuck on here
and there; numerous outhouses were dropped down about it at random; its walls were propped up in
places with logs, and its moss-coloured shingle roof, bowed down with the weight of years and a great
accumulation of stones, hoop-iron, jam-tins, broken glassware, and dried possum skins, bulged
threateningly on the verge of utter collapse. The Shamrock was built of sun-dried bricks, of an
unhealthy, bilious tint. Its dirty, shattered windows were plugged in places with old hats and discarded
female apparel, and draped with green blinds, many of which had broken their moorings, and hung
despondently by one corner. Groups of ungainly fowl chased succulent grasshoppers before the bar
door; a moody, distempered goat rubbed her ribs against a shattered trough roughly hewn from the
butt of a tree, and a matronly old bitch of spare proportions wallowed complacently in the dust of the
road, surrounded by her yelping brood.

A battered sign hung out over the door of the Shamrock, informing people that Michael Doyle was the
licensed owner, and that good accommodation could be afforded to both man and beast at the lowest
current rates. But that sign was unreliable. Bed and board were quite out of the province of the
Shamrock. There was, in fact, only one couch professedly at the disposal of the weary wayfarer, and
this, according to the statement of the few persons who had ever ventured to try it, seemed stuffed
with old boots and stubble; it was located immediately beneath a hen-roost, which was the resting
place of a maternal fowl, addicted on occasion to nursing her chickens on the tired sleepers chest.
The turnover at the Shamrock was not at all extensive for, saving the occasional agricultural labourer
who came from beyond which was the versatile hosts way of designating any part within a radius
of five miles to revel in an occasional spree, the trade was confined to the passing cockatoo farmer,
who invariably arrived on a bony, drooping horse, took a drink, and shuffled away amid clouds of dust.

Landlord Doyle was of Irish extraction; his stock was so old that everyone had forgotten where and
when it originated; but Mickey assumed no unnecessary style, and his personal appearance would
not have led you to infer that there had been a king in his family, and that an ancestor of his had once
killed a landlord. Micky was a small, scraggy man, with a mop of grizzled hair and a little, red,
humorous face, ever bristling with auburn stubble. His trousers were the most striking thing about him;
they were built on the premises, and always contained enough stuff to make him a full suit and a
winter overcoat. Mrs Doyle manufactured those pants after plans and specifications of her own
designing, and was mighty proud when Michael would yank them up into his armpits, and amble
around, peering about discontentedly over the waistband. They were a great saving in waistcoats,
she said.

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1 You have recently stayed at the Shamrock Hotel and, most surprisingly, you thoroughly enjoyed
your stay.

Write a letter to Mr and Mrs Doyle explaining the reasons why you liked the hotel so much. You
know that the Doyles will use your letter to advertise the hotel in future.

Base all that you write on Passage A.

You should write between 1 and 2 sides, allowing for the size of your handwriting.

Up to fifteen marks will be available for the content of your answer, and up to five marks for the
quality of your writing.
[20 marks]

2 Re-read the descriptions of

(a) the animals you might find at the Shamrock, in paragraph 1

(b) Michael Doyle, in paragraph 3.

By referring closely to the language used by the writer, explain how he makes these descriptions
effective.
[10 marks]

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Part 2

Read Passage B carefully, and then answer Question 3, which is based on both Passage A and
Passage B.

Passage B

The Technocrat Hotel

Mr Rapadi was a much-travelled man, a great critic of the hotels he visited around the world. In the
end, he would say, they are all much like each other. He dreamed of creating a hotel which would
outshine all others in its modernity, would cause all who saw it to gasp and would attract the famous
and the successful. He would call it The Technocrat.

Eventually he built his hotel and it so happened that I was one of his first clients. There was no
mistaking it. It towered menacingly above the surrounding buildings, resplendent in glass and shining
metal. Everything about it was vast, its windows, its entrance and the magnificent red letters that
spelled out Technocrat.

I was humbled by this edifice. If I entered, I would be sure to be lost. But I was attracted like a magnet
and, as I approached, the doors slid noiselessly apart as if, mysteriously, they expected me. I entered
what appeared to be a bronze cavern with coloured lights twinkling from a great height and some
considerable way ahead lay the reception desk.

No one stood behind the desk to make me feel welcome. However, a courteous recorded voice,
perhaps that of Mr Rapadi himself, wished me a very good afternoon and requested my name and my
credit card which a little machine graciously read and returned to me. Your room is on firty fiff floor,
said the mechanical voice. Please take identity disk from machine on right. Lifts on left side.

There was a veritable bank of lifts not the two or three you usually encounter in inferior hotels but a
whole line of them with glass doors, shooting up and down. I stood nervously watching them as feet
and heads came suddenly in and out of view. I never saw anybody get in or out.

As I entered my lift, it recognised my identity disk and whisked me disconcertingly to the thirty-fifth
floor before I had time to press a button. I arrived before I had begun, so to speak, and stepped onto a
metal moving carpet which delivered me to my room.

The door slid open automatically and I stepped into a technological wonderland. How did the subdued
lighting know my favourite colour? How could the TV set scan 150 channels to locate my type of
culture? Email and internet devices burst out at every corner and the bed, ah, the bed was capable of
assuming all angles and of adapting to the size of its most awkward customer.

To be truthful, I did not know where to turn. My stomach was still at reception and the little voices of
gadgets introducing themselves electronically to me set my brain in a whirl. The food delivery system
was too assertive, bullying me to listen to the menu and to make my choice. Vegetable sausage, I
gasped to keep the thing quiet. How many times? it demanded. Once only, I said and was rewarded
by a piping hot plateful that I did not really want but was too afraid to decline.

This cacophony of voices was insistent, destructive. It seemed that they were too scarily human and
that a riot might soon break out. I was too frightened to approach the bathroom, for what contraption
might leap out at me? What if the water sprinklers detected my rising blood pressure and soaked the
entire room?

As I stood near the window, a bottled voice said, Fresh air, sir? and indeed I was met by a rush of
artificial wind that nearly knocked me off my feet.
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Then it struck me. In all the time I had been in Mr Rapadis hotel, I had not met a single person. Not
one, apart from those strange bodies that went up and down in the glass-fronted lifts.

As I left the room, the door shuddered, the moving carpet shrieked and I almost fell into the lift. I
crossed the lobby furtively and a voice rang out, Your check, sir; your identity disk, sir? and I
escaped only just in time through the closing doors.

I spent that night in a comfortable family hotel up the road. A few weeks later I read that the
Technocrat had exploded mysteriously in the middle of the night, a victim perhaps of its own success.

3 Read Passage B and re-read Passage A.

Summarise:

(a) the appearance and the facilities of the Technocrat Hotel that the writer appeared to find
worrying or annoying;

(b) the appearance and facilities, or the lack of them, of the Shamrock Hotel that a visitor might
find worrying or annoying.

You should write about 1 side in total, allowing for the size of your handwriting.

Up to fifteen marks will be given for the content of your answer, and up to five marks for the
[20 marks]

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Passage A A Golden Shanty by Edward Dyson. From an anthology published by Longman Australia Pty Ltd, 1995

Permission to reproduce items where third-party owned material protected by copyright is included has been sought and cleared where possible. Every
reasonable effort has been made by the publisher (UCLES) to trace copyright holders, but if any items requiring clearance have unwittingly been included, the
publisher will be pleased to make amends at the earliest possible opportunity.

University of Cambridge International Examinations is part of the University of Cambridge Local Examinations Syndicate (UCLES), which is itself a department
of the University of Cambridge.
0500/02/M/J/06
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Paper 2 Reading Passages (Extended) October/November 2008

2 hours






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Part 1


Passage A

This is an account of the disastrous eruption of the volcano Vesuvius, and what happened at that time
to an eighteen-year-old student and his uncle.

Vesuvius

Across the Bay of Naples in Italy, the volcano Mount Vesuvius dominates your view from almost every
angle. It stands like a sentinel over the cluster of towns that huddle in its fertile foothills. Behind sheets
of mist it is ghostlike; in the warm sunshine it is magnificent, but it always seems to brood secretively
over the surrounding land and sea, full of silent menace.

The disastrous eruption in the year 79 was one of the worlds most famous natural catastrophes.
Then, of course, there were no rescue teams, no earth-moving apparatus and no emergency
hospitals. Those people who could escape did so, and attributed the explosion to the gods and to the
giants who had recently been seen ranging over the mountains. Anyway, there could have been no
rescue, since the city of Pompeii was covered with 29 metres of small pumice stones and volcanic
ash. Anyone who stayed behind or who revisited the site in the next day or two was either smothered
or killed by a cloud of poisonous gases and dust. It was estimated that 20,000 died there.

Another victim of the explosion was the smaller seaside town of Herculaneum. Unlike Pompeii, this
was buried in a mudslide, which then solidified, preserving a good deal of the town. 1,600 years later,
both towns were discovered and painstakingly excavated, revealing houses with their roofs on,
decorated pavements, wall paintings, theatres and shops. Many bodies were found which had turned
to statues as they died.

We are fortunate in having an account of the eruption of Vesuvius which was written by an eighteen-
year-old student called Pliny. He observed what happened from a comparatively safe distance before
he was forced to escape. His uncle, known as Pliny the Elder, was a famous academic who wrote an
encyclopedia called Natural History and other books on subjects such as a history of all the wars
between the Romans and the Germans (in twenty volumes) and the use of missiles while on
horseback. However, he was also famous for his service to the state. He had experienced military
service in Germany and had held administrative posts in Spain. He was, at that time, in charge of the
Roman navy in the Bay of Naples. He therefore called for a boat so that he could find out more about
the little-known science of volcanoes. He had barely set off when a neighbour found herself trapped at
the waters edge. He realised the gravity of the situation, called for more boats and made it his priority
to rescue the stranded citizens.

His nephew, the young Pliny, decided to stay in the house and finish the homework that Pliny the
Elder had given him. From there he wrote about the eruption as follows: I cannot give a more exact
description of the shape of the cloud than by comparing it to that of a pine tree, for it shot up to a great
height in the form of a trunk which formed itself at the top into several branches. The cloud was at one
moment white and at another moment spotted, as if it had carried up earth and cinders.

Later, when the young Pliny realised he must escape, he described how the wheels of the carts could
not hold steady on the piles of small stones. From where they were they could see the sea sucked
back, as if it was driven by the convulsions of the earth. Behind us, a black and dreadful cloud burst
out in gusts of fiery, snakelike vapour. Now and again, the cloud yawned open to reveal long, fantastic
flames, like flashes of lightning, but much larger. What a fearful experience for an eighteen-year-old!

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Meanwhile, Plinys uncle had reached comparative safety further round the bay, with his friend
Pomponius. He went to bed, exhausted. Pomponius reported that His breathing (as he was pretty fat)
was heavy and sonorous, and was heard by those who attended him outside his bedroom door. Later
the next day, Pliny the Elder became unwell, drank copious amounts of water, and requested another
rest. Soon after, he collapsed and died, whether from the weakness of his heart, or the results of
inhaling toxic gas, nobody knew.

The young man must have missed his uncle, whom he admired for his never-ending quest for
knowledge as much as for his executive powers. He had also lost his teacher. At least the younger
Pliny survived the volcano and became a politician, serving his country well.

1 Imagine you are a reporter, writing from the area.

Write the newspaper report which would have appeared a week after the eruption of
Vesuvius.

Use the following headline:

Tragic death of respected Naval Commander:
Eruption causes terror and destruction in Bay of Naples

Base your report on what you have read in Passage A.

Write your report in modern English. Do not use columns.

Write between 1 and 2 sides, allowing for the size of your handwriting.

Up to 15 marks will be available for the content of your answer, and up to 5 marks for the

[Total: 20]

2 Re-read the descriptions of:

(a) Vesuvius in paragraph 1;

(b) the clouds in paragraphs 5 and 6.

Selecting words and phrases from these paragraphs to support your answer, explain the effects
the writer creates in using these descriptions.

[Total: 10]

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Part 2

Question 3 is based on both Passage A and Passage B.
Read Passage B and re-read Passage A.

Passage B

In this passage the writer describes a journey to the Kamchatka Peninsula, one of the most
volcanically active regions on Earth.

Russias Frozen Inferno

Late last summer I spent a month studying volcanic eruptions with an international team that included
French explorers, a German photographer called Carsten Peter, and a Russian guide named Feodor
Farberov.

Carsten has spent his life documenting volcanoes with a camera. The closer he gets to the volcano,
the happier he is. Not so Feodor, a 39-year-old, stolid, muscular, bearded mountaineer. He was born
in a village at the foot of Klyuchevskoy and grew up with the dangers and discomforts of volcano
research. Volcanic ash covered everything, he recalled. Our water, our air, even our food tasted of
sulphur. Having seen enough eruptions for a lifetime, Feodor now likes his mountains cold, quiet
and covered with snow for skiing.

Bezymianny, one of the dozen volcanoes that make up the peninsulas group, was thought to be
dormant until 1955, when it suddenly began to shake and swell and spew. On March 30th 1956, it
exploded, enveloping the area in a shroud of ash. Within two days the ash reached Alaska, and two
days later it was detected over the British Isles. The explosion flattened trees 15 miles away. Like the
eruption of Mount St. Helens, it started with a giant avalanche, then blew out sideways, leaving a
huge horseshoe-shaped crater.

We hiked through soft ash, sinking knee-deep at times, climbed heaps of shattered rock, and
scrambled in and out of rocky gorges. Through wind and whipping clouds we climbed to the craters
broken rim and looked over. The inner cliffs dropped hundreds of feet to a circular channel, ringing a
new mountain rising from the ruins of the old a huge dome of smoking rock with its summit towering
over us. On the floor of the channel sprawled a field of ice and snow, blackened by cinders and split
by crevasses that gaped white in the enveloping mists. As we clung to the sharp edge, the dome
threw down showers of rock from its steep sides. When large boulders hit the ice below, they left
white wounds in the dark surface.

Another of Kamchatkas volcanoes is Mutnovsky. It is a complex structure with multiple active craters.
In March 2000, steam blasts rocked one of the craters, and, within it, a glacier began to collapse. A
large section of the glacier vanished, and a green acidic lake appeared in the middle of the broken
ice. This kind of activity indicates that Mutnovsky is heating up and signals the possibility of even
greater eruptions.

We set out just after dawn to follow a river up into that crater. Our path led across slopes of wet,
slippery ash, past narrow openings in the rocks belching steam. Scrambling across the glacier, its
surface a mass of dirty ice and cinders, we skirted the lake and climbed to a narrow divide. Standing
on ice, we felt the hot breath of volcanic gases. Around us rose the steep crater walls lined with red
and yellow deposits of sulphur. Slabs of glacier peeled off and crashed into the sour, pea-green
water.

Carsten was ecstatic. When he and one of the other explorers decided to crawl under the glacier into
a dark ice cave formed by a river of warm water, I followed. Feodor just shook his head.

5
UCLES 2008 0500/02/O/N/08
We crab-walked under huge blocks of ice that had fallen around the entrance, then waded through
shallow water to the edge of darkness. Pale light fell from crevasses in the roof, barely illuminating a
world of grey: grey shadows, grey ice, grey ash, grey river. The inner walls were hung with icicles.
The ice groaned above and around us the internal workings of the glacier as it melted and moved.
The hairs on my neck rose and, with them, dreadful imaginings. Not only could the tunnel implode at
any moment but also the lake, held back by only a wall of ice, could drain in a flash. It looked as if part
of the cave had collapsed a few weeks earlier. What if another eruption occurred while we were down
there?

3 Summarise:

(a) the dangers and discomforts of exploring volcanic areas, as described in Passage B;

(b) what made the eruption of Vesuvius such a terrible event for the people in the area, as
described in Passage A.



Up to 15 marks will be available for the content of your answer, and up to 5 marks for the

[Total: 20]

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Passage B Jeremy Schmidt; National Geographic Magazine, August 2001.


University of Cambridge International Examinations is part of the Cambridge Assessment Group. Cambridge Assessment is the brand name of University of
Cambridge Local Examinations Syndicate (UCLES), which is itself a department of the University of Cambridge.

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Paper 2 Reading Passages (Extended) May/June 2011
2 hours
www.XtremePapers.net
2
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Part 1
Passage A
Climbing the Nose of El Capitan
Dean Potter is a famous rock climber whose speciality is speed. He often refuses to use any climbing
equipment, relying only on his agility and lack of fear. This is Rob Buchanans account of watching
Dean and his partner ONeill climb one of the most difficult mountain faces in America.
Three, two, one, go! Dean Potter punches a button on a plastic wristwatch looped around his climbing
harness. His partner leaps at the rock before him, jamming freshly taped fingers into a slender crack.
Above them, soaring into an azure sky, is the great, granite, curved wall of the most famous climb in
Yosemite Valley (or indeed the world): the Nose of El Capitan. Climbers either fear or loathe it, but all
of them respect anyone who has the ability to negotiate its incredibly difficult layout. After a gruelling
vertical climb of over 2,000 feet, the rock face begins to curve out above the climbers indeed like the
underside of a large nose and they must attempt to overcome this overhanging shelf in order to get
to the top.
Potter often climbs without the benefit of ropes or protection, but on this late autumn day their goal
is speed, so the two are carrying hardware. Still, by any sane standard, theyre ridiculously under-
equipped: no packs, no shirts, no food and no water. A single 200-foot length of rope between them,
plus a handful of spring-loaded devices to be placed in cracks for protection, are their only concessions
to safety. Even Potters climbing harness is minimalistic: a homemade thing fashioned from 11/16 inch
webbing and stitched together with dental floss.
Potter doesnt wait for his partner to reach the safety of the permanent metal peg at the top of the
first stage, but instead starts climbing straight away. This is a risky procedure, but its the fastest way
to climb. Five minutes later, the two are already 200 feet up, and my neck is sore just from watching
them. As I back away from the Nose to get a better view, I hear it a horrible scrabbling of hands and
feet on rock, followed by a desperate yell: Falling! Looking up, I see ONeill dropping through space,
arms flailing, legs splaying like a manic puppet out of control. Suddenly, he jerks to a stop. This puppet
now looks as though someone, out of pity, has cut all of his strings except one, and he hangs there,
stunned, after plunging more than 25 feet. I cant believe he hasnt hit the bottom.
Theres a moments silence. Potter has arrested his partners fall by holding on to the rope from his
position 70 feet below. The bass boom of his voice echoes off the great sounding board of El Capitan.
Go! he yells. Get back on it! Go! Go! Go!
The intensity is startling. Potter is normally a very calm person, slow talking and sometimes painfully
shy. One man who knows him well, his promotions manager, calls him a gentle giant. In Patagonia,
he has a different nickname: Tarzan. Potter says thats because of the monosyllabic way he speaks
Spanish when hes on an expedition in Argentina. Maybe, but the name seems to capture a lot of
Potters other qualities too. With his wide-set brown eyes, prominent and slightly battered-looking nose,
tumbling mane and barrel chest, he could be the original Tarzan come back to life: a brooding inhabitant
of the wild who is occasionally roused to fantastic bouts of action and daring stunts.
Whether propelled by Potters war cry or his own desire to get back on solid ground, ONeill surges his
way upward, simultaneously pulling himself hand over hand and walking up the cliff.
3
0500/21/M/J/11 UCLES 2011 [Turn over
Tiny, distant figures now, Potter and ONeill swarm up the face. Sometimes they almost seem to be
running, gaining speed with each step, springing past obstacles that every rock climber knows by
heart. A little before noon they reach the final wall, rhythmically snapping their metal clips to the last
string of metal pegs placed by Warren Harding on his laborious 45-day first ascent completed in 1958.
A minute later they disappear over the top.
Three hours and twenty four minutes, I mutter to myself as I look at my watch in disbelief.
Incredible!
1 Imagine that you are the reporter, Rob Buchanan. You interview Dean Potter after the climb and
ask the following questions:
ncredible! How did you manage to climb the face so quickly?
How do you answer people who say that what you do is foolish?
Can you tell us about your relationship with your climbing partner, O'Neill?
Write the words of the interview.
Base your interview on what you have read in Passage A and be careful to use your own words.
Up to fifteen marks are available for the content of your answer, and up to five marks for the
[Total: 20]
(a) ONeills fall in paragraph 3;
(b) Dean Potter in paragraph 5.
Select words and phrases from these descriptions, and explain how the writer has created effects
by using this language.
[Total: 10]
[Turn over for Part 2]
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0500/21/M/J/11 UCLES 2011
Part 2
Read Passage B carefully and re-read Passage A.
Then answer Question 3, which is based on both passages.
Passage B
Paintballing a birthday treat?
Recently, for my birthday, my teenage children ceremoniously handed me an ordinary envelope and urged,
Open it quick! A postcard-sized coupon dropped out, and on it was an invitation to Come Along and Blast
Your Cares Away!, accompanied by a cartoon drawing of a person in combat uniform, armed with a large
rifle. The image unsettled me. Had my offspring signed me up for the army as a birthday treat? looked at
their laughing faces as the eldest declared, Its a mornings paintball session, Mum! Dont worry. Dad will
explain everything on the way to the venue this afternoon. I was soon to discover what this birthday treat
was all about, and pretended to play along enthusiastically with everyone elses excitement.
Dont worry, Ive already checked this place out, my husband said, once we were in the car. Paintball
is good fun, but its also a game of action and skill. Families, friends and even work colleagues are
organised into teams. Each team has a different colour paint to fire at their opponents, and the object of
the game is a make-believe battle where everyone tries to hit the other side whilst avoiding getting hit
themselves. The winner is the last person standing.
'What else could be doing on my birthday?' thought, as we sped on.
Arriving at the paintball site, a sprawling area of woodland with a log cabin used as an office, we were
ushered in and had to fill out medical forms which checked we were fit and healthy. Then we were
given our protective clothing and headgear, which included an eye mask. Our guide told us, Every
manufactured paintball mask must be made to withstand a paintball travelling at least 300 feet per
second thats about 205 miles per hour so you dont have to worry. I was already wondering how
much a paintball travelling at that speed would hurt the rest of my body and began to regret my earlier
bravado. Reading my thoughts, my husband started quoting details of the sport that were pinned to the
wall.
Listen to this, Zena. The paintballs arent like bullets, they are gel capsules made of gelatine and
food colouring and they are completely edible. There are paintball eating contests all the time at
tournaments and events.
Great, if we get hungry we can lunch on a yellow one, I replied, still unconvinced.
Once we were ready, we were quickly introduced to our instructor, Ravi, who was an enthusiastic mine
of information. It is my job to guarantee that you have an enjoyable and safe experience, he began.
Paintball has regulated itself. We have developed rules and guidelines, and all paintball facilities in
the world adhere to them strictly. You must keep your masks on at all times, including the introductory
session inside. You must make sure that your marker, which is what we call the rifle, is shooting under
the legal speed limit, as we shall demonstrate later. Our company and players also ensure that the
equipment is in good shape and well maintained. I must have looked worried because he turned and
said, Some people associate this sport with war games but, believe me, its really enjoyable out there
and the only danger you might encounter is falling over a tree root! There are more injuries reported
from basketball and baseball than from paintball in any given year. Once you get out there you will
become totally immersed in a friendly fight. Go on and enjoy yourself youll be surprised! With that
he led us to the indoor demonstration area.
Two hours later, I emerged smiling, my overalls spattered in bright crimson and my face a healthy glow.
I felt like a child who had been out playing in the countryside and was now, reluctantly, being called in
for supper.
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3 Summarise:
(a) the ways in which paintballing is a safe sport, as described in Passage B;
(b) the reasons why climbing the Nose of El Capitan and the way Dean Potter makes this climb
are dangerous, as described in Passage A.
[Total: 20]
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Question 1 adapted http://www.outside.away.com/features/200212/200212; 1/10/2009.
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2 hours
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0500/22/M/J/11 UCLES 2011
Part 1
Passage A
The Beast of Bodmin Moor
I was lost. It was easy to lose ones way on the moor, especially on a November afternoon when the
light was thickening and the landscape stretched the same unvariegated grey in all directions. I drove
along a narrow, empty road, looking for a road sign or any building which might contain an inhabitant
to give me directions. A fleeting, shadowy movement by the roadside reminded me of the tales of the
Beast of Bodmin Moor which had fascinated me as a local child.
It was allegedly a vicious predator which carried out sheep killings on a grand scale. An investigation by
the Ministry of Agriculture in 1995 had found no verifiable evidence of foreign big cats in the area (although
admitting that this did not prove that they were not present), and had concluded that the sheep could have
been attacked by native wild animals. About four years later, an attempt to locate the beast from the air,
using night vision goggles, had also failed. The Bodmin Natural History Museum determined that a skull
found in the area was of a leopard, but it turned out to belong to an animal which had died outside Britain,
and was probably part of a leopard-skin rug which had been dropped into the river as a hoax.
However, the sightings and attacks had continued, and the local farmers were still convinced that the
injuries to their livestock proved it was a type of cat, and that its appearance was not consistent with it
being a pony, wild boar or large dog. In 1997, officials from a nearby zoo identified pawprints left in mud
on the moor as the tracks of a puma. A year later, a 20-second video was released which seemed to
show big cats roaming nearby.
As I rounded the next bend, I saw a startlingly large, black feline cross the road with an unhurried,
sinuous, fluid movement. Its thick, sinewy shoulders suggested massive strength and speed, like that
of engine pistons. As it passed, it turned to stare at me and its great, yellow, black-slitted orbs were
caught in the headlights. I noticed its pricked, tufted ears and its short, coarse, raven-black coat before
it turned, raising and waving its curved snake of a tail as if making a victory salute. The spectral vision
dissolved into the bushes, leaving me with a thumping heart and the feeling that I had witnessed a
supernatural manifestation.
A little further along I took a turning with a handwritten sign pointing to Gables Farm. I had to leave the
car and cross a rickety, rotting footbridge over a rushing stream. Another battered sign, nailed to a tree,
bore the ominous words, ambiguously addressed: Wild Big Cats Keep Out. A shiny, weather-beaten
man with tremendous whiskers and a crusty hat the colour of an over-cooked pie appeared at the farm
gate, carrying a rifle. When I explained I was lost and had just had an unnerving experience, he took
me into his kitchen and sat me down at a stained oak table while he made me tea and talked about the
beast.
You always know when its about. Rabbits and foxes disappear and birds stop singing. If the ministry
people knew anything about country life theyd know it couldnt be a dog. If its a dog theres noise, and
wool and mess everywhere. But a cat goes in to the kill quickly, eats its fill, and slinks off. He told me
that the beast owed him a thousand pounds for dead livestock, and that other farmers had sold their
flocks after losing so many sheep. His neighbour had captured the beast on video, along with the tell-
tale signs of four long scratch marks on the mauled sheep. She had also found hairs which shed sent
off for analysis, but had received no result.
He continued: The only reason to suppress the result would be to avoid panic. Another neighbour got
hold of a recording of a puma mating call, and we recognised the scream we hear at night. Everyone
round here believes in the beast, even though were sceptical about most things and havent got time
to waste concocting fantasies. We dont want the beast shot, but we do want it acknowledged and kept
under control so it doesnt continue to destroy our livelihoods.
3
1 Imagine you work for the Ministry of Agriculture. You have been sent to conduct a second
investigation as to whether there is large foreign cat activity on Bodmin Moor.
Write a formal report on your findings.
In your report, you should comment on:
t what local people believe about the presence of a beast;
t the lack of conclusive proof and the alternative theories;
t your recommendations with reasons.
Base your answer on what you have read in Passage A and be careful to use your own words.
Begin the report as follows: Since the inconclusive investigation by the Ministry of Agriculture in
1995, reported sightings of big cats have continued.
[Total: 20]
(a) the appearance of the beast in paragraph 4;
(b) the appearance of the farmer and his farm in paragraph 5.
[Total: 10]
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Part 2
Passage B
Unicorns and Yetis
This passage describes the history of two creatures generally believed to be mythical.
The historical existence of the unicorn is an idea which is easy to accept. Its resemblance to actual
animals, such as horses and antelopes, gives its reality an almost common-sense appeal, and the
creature still exerts a powerful attraction in numerous popular cultures. The first written reports of the
unicorn were found in works of ancient Greek history from 2,400 years ago, while eastern cultures
record details of one-horned animals during the era of Genghis Khan.
Thorough research into contemporary wildlife reveals the possibility of genuine sightings of creatures
with the characteristics of a unicorn. To the present day, sightings of unicorns are being reported from
Mount Kilimanjaro in Kenya. In 1987, Robert Vavra took an expedition there to find the mythical beast
and he published his diary, complete with photographs, claiming that with the help of Masai warriors he
had tracked it down.
The other mythical creature which has exercised the imagination for many years is the yeti. For fifty
years the snowy wastes of the Himalayas have beckoned intrepid explorers in search of the mysterious
animal also known as the abominable snowman. Occasional sightings of large hairy creatures walking
on two legs across the snows or in the forested valleys of Nepal and Tibet have kept the legend alive.
Photographic evidence of the creatures existence has proved elusive, however. The most famous picture
is that taken by Sir Edmund Hillary in 1951 of a large, wide footprint said by some to be that of a yeti.
Since that time a number of yeti relics have turned up. In 1960, western visitors to a Nepalese
monastery were astonished to find monks using a yeti scalp in some of their rituals. Analysis of the red
hairs, however, showed that they had originated from a mountain goat. A different monastery presented
a severed hand, obviously from a primate, as evidence that some kind of ape man was still wandering
the mountain fortresses of the Himalayas. The hand could, of course, have come from anywhere and
it vanished in 1991. Finally, there have been rumours, started by travellers, of huge mummified bodies
of yeti preserved in even more remote monasteries. These turned out to be fakes, or were no longer
where they were supposed to be. However, belief in the existence of the wild man of the snows is still
real enough among the locals. What could account for this?
A popular theory among zoologists is that the idea of the yeti is based upon handed-down memories
of apes, possibly orang-utans, which may have lived in the mountain forests of this region in the
distant past. Some argue that a few of these apes still survive in small numbers, just occasionally
spotted crossing a snowfield from one valley to another. Reinhold Messner, one of the worlds foremost
mountaineers, believes that the legend is based upon a real but little-known animal that inhabited the
forests of eastern Tibet. This was the area the Sherpas once lived in before migrating to present-day
Nepal, so they may have taken with them their traditional stories.
Messner decided to investigate the yeti for himself, so in 1986 he retraced the Sherpas migratory route
in eastern Tibet. In his book he describes a terrifying night hiking through the forest, haunted by the
strange whistling cries of a creature he was later to see. Several times a tall biped with long arms ran
across his path. Eventually the creature stood in front of him, raising itself to full height before running
off on all fours at incredible speed into the woods. When Messner reached a settlement, he was told
by the villagers that he had seen a chemo, a Tibetan name for a yeti. This encounter took place in the
heart of the area from which the Sherpas had brought their yeti stories, so the large, hairy, ape-like
man may just be a Tibetan bear, transformed by Sherpa legend into something more.
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3 Summarise:
(a) the reasons for not believing in the existence of unicorns and yetis, according to Passage B;
(b) the actual evidence for the existence of the beast of Bodmin Moor, according to Passage A.
[Total: 20]
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DC (CB/NB) 30702/5
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0500/23/M/J/11 UCLES 2011
Part 1
Passage A
A Town Struck by Tragedy
For some days my wife and I had intended to make an excursion along the south bank of the river, past the
colourful fields of grapevines, sweetcorn and sunflowers, as far as a little market town that was the centre
of a well-known wine-growing district. The day before our visit, we read in the newspaper about the tragedy
that had hit the town and felt that, as tourists, we would be intruding and that perhaps we should not go.
However, we agreed that if we kept a low profile and dressed soberly, no one would take exception.
When we arrived, market day had just ended. We parked the car at the far end of the stalls that were
laid out along the quayside and walked quietly towards the centre of the town. We had almost reached
the first buildings when a coach full of tourists drew up and some forty or fifty elderly people tumbled
out. They were making a great deal of noisy chatter and all of them seemed to be competing to try to
attract each others attention. It was most distasteful. Cameras at the ready, they started their assault
on the unsuspecting little town, scattering in all directions, shattering the midday peace. They were like
an excited gang of young children.
We realised that they could not have known what had happened two days previously. They had not
read that the great, concrete grain silo that stood on the waterfront and was the centre and symbol
of the trade of the town had blown up without warning. Fortunately, the directors of the company, all
well known and respected in the locality, had just finished their meeting in the building when the accident
occurred. An elderly man walking past, reminiscing over his many years of work for the company, was
thrown to the ground by the blast.
We had learned that the explosion was like a thunderbolt. The dry grain inside the silo had ignited
and, for one ironic moment, had created a firework display of golden rain in the night sky. The building
imploded so that there were just jagged shapes of concrete now lying haphazardly along the quayside.
When we looked upwards, we saw that the edges of the silo were serrated and spiky.
Walking back through the town, we were aware of a thin coating of dust that lay over everything, making
our progress hazardous. Otherwise, it seemed like other attractive places of its type. There were several
shady squares and tree-lined walks that were havens of peace. Pretty stone buildings reflected the
taste of at least three centuries. A fine church, full of historic monuments, looked out on a neat parking
area and a promising restaurant that was empty today. The town, with its museum and public gardens,
stretched upwards into the gentle hills that guarded the river. One neat cottage took our fancy. It was so
small that we could hardly imagine anyone living there, but the garden was full of bright flowers and a
line of ripe tomatoes, and there was not a weed to be seen. There was a strangely quiet atmosphere,
as if some Pied Piper had played his flute and led the people away to a safer place.
When we returned to the market area, the elderly interlopers were back in their coach, waving aimlessly
as the engine burst into life. An old man was gazing blankly at the ruins beyond the coach. He was
expressionless, and we could only guess at the emotions of the past, present and future that were
passing through his mind.
Aware of us, he said in his own dialect, I was born in this town. For thirty-five years I worked there.
Im sorry, I said, wondering whether he might be the owner of the neat cottage where we had paused
on our walk.
3
Now everything is gone. Only the beauty of our town remains, and that is tarnished for ever. There is
nothing else.
However, as we returned to the car, we saw a notice dated a week previously. It announced a public
meeting to be chaired by the mayor to debate a major tourist plan for the town. There would be a small
marina, two ten-storey hotels, a casino, amusement arcades and millions of euros to be spent. The
plan seemed a strange idea to us and we wondered how the townspeople would react. And the old
man who spoke to us? His blank stare remained with us for days after our visit.
1 Imagine that you are the old man in the final paragraphs (When we returnedafter our visit).
Write a letter to your sister, who lives in a different part of the country.
In your letter, you should:
describe, in your own words, what has happened to the town;
express your thoughts and emotions about the past, present and future.
Begin your letter, Dear Sister.
Base your letter on what you have read in Passage A and be careful to use your own words.
[Total: 20]
(a) the elderly tourists in paragraph 2;
(b) the explosion and its effects on the area in paragraph 4.
[Total: 10]
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Part 2
Passage B
Jiuzhaigou Bus Ride to Paradise
This passage describes some beautiful lakes in China that have been opened to mass tourism.
This is the other China. High in the mountains of Sichuan Province, in Jiuzhaigou Nature Reserve, rare
plants and animals find sanctuary, and millions of visitors have discovered cool, clear, sapphire-and-
emerald-tinted waters, far removed from the sooty industrial sprawl that consumes lands and lives below.
Jiuzhaigou means valley of nine villages because it once harboured nine, but other numbers are more
significant now. Some 80 hotels are clustered at the mouth of a Y-shaped, 35 km long valley in the Min
mountains of central China. 280 buses wait to shuttle 18,000 visitors each day up the very pretty route,
past a chain of flower-coloured, ribbony lakes and fingery waterfalls, underneath escarpments covered
with maple, spruce or bamboo forests. The air rings with water music as snow-melt and spring rains
pour down the valley, tumbling in broad waterfalls from one brimful lake to another. Some are eight
metres high, and the Arrow Bamboo Falls span nearly 170 metres. Boardwalks circuit the little lakes
and reedy creeks, and the buses stop to let parties of trippers stroll at their own pace. Then they queue
to catch another bus and continue along the valley.
Glaciers carved the two valleys that join the Shuzheng Valley the Zechawa and the Rize, which climb
to around 3,000 metres into the classic U shapes one knows from Yosemite, Jiuzhaigous sister park
in the United States. The geology of this part of the Tibetan Plateau is not granite but seabed like the
US Rockies, so its limestones as they dissolve colour the waters emerald or turquoise in a certain light,
or enhance the mirroring of an azure sky. The lakes were formed when avalanches blocked the creeks
and sculpted the lakes but, according to legend, sky goddesses dropped their cosmetics into several
and mermaids swam in others. Calcium carbonate deposits on the bottom sometimes assumed fanciful
shapes sleeping dragons, for example.
The road ascends from about 2,000 metres at the valley entrance and splits at Nuorilang, where a
tourist centre and cafeteria are set up. The left fork ends at a wilderness lake, wiggly and long. The
right fork ends in a primeval forest (in the language of the brochures), which translates as groves that
were not levelled by loggers before the areas tourism possibilities were recognised. Jiuzhaigou Nature
Reserve, Chinas flagship of its type, was designated a World Heritage site in 1992 by UNESCO, after
logging threatened to degrade it.
Costumed Tibetans sell trinkets and postcards at the end of each fork, and the boardwalks loop more
ambitiously than usual. Along the bus route there are lakes with names like Golden Bell, Sparkling,
Double-Dragon and Five-Flower Lake. Mirror Lake, like the others, reflects the clouds, the birches and
the willows and pines, the different tinctures and hues of sunrise and sunset on rock faces and cliffs.
Although the names sound promotional, Buddhist mysticism animated these lakes and rivers with
spirits that the mineralised waters might characterise, whether mermaid or monster.
Morning stillness reflects heaven and earth, tinted by mineral deposits and aquatic plant life in Five-
Flower Lake. The Chinese call this landscape magical. Nowhere else under the sky, they say, can
match Jiuzhaigou.
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3 Summarise:
(a) what makes the Jiuzhaigou valley and lakes attractive to tourists, as described in Passage B;
(b) what made the town attractive to the writer and his wife, as described in Passage A.
[Total: 20]
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Passage B Edward Hoagland; (amended) Chinas Mystic Waters, Visitors are enthralled by the Jiuzhaigou reserve ; National Geographic Magazine;
March 2009.

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