Well another couple weeks have gone by with no major problems with any of the aircraft. To pick up where I left off, we were changing out the aileron cable on one of the GV. To do this we had to take a number of measurements along the flaps and ailerons at full deflection and at various flap settings. To help out the auxiliary hydraulic pump we used our hydraulic mule to provide hydraulic pressure to the systems. The job took a little over 3 hours to complete and the most time consuming part of it was getting all the readings.

All that week, a couple of our pilots were down at SimuFlight. SimuFlight is a large facility on DFW airport. Our pilots, who were participating in recurrent training, had been going through classes all week. The Friday that I was allowed to observe, the pilots were working on their Category II approaches. The simulators that SimuFlight provide for training are Category D full motion sims that many operators use for type ratings in various aircraft. The day started off with a flight out of Denver Intl. which, as soon as we passed through 3,000 ft AGL, the instructor failed one of the engines. It never does get old loosing an engine in a simulator. After completing two approaches our pilots switched and did the same thing. Then they flew over to Aspen and set up for the approach. Even in VFR conditions this approach is difficult because the glide slope is so steep. A normal approach has a 3 degree GS and the approach to Aspen is more like 6 degrees. For this approach the pilot has to set up really early, get the airplane slowed down and configured. If you expect to configure on a long final, good luck, you are going around, which in Aspen is another difficult maneuver. The best part of the day came as the pilots finished and it was my turn to try out the GV. The instructor dialed in Anchorage, Alaska and set me on runway 7L. As I familiarized myself with the cockpit and tried to set up the Heads Up Display (HUD), I realized that this was an extremely complex aircraft. I set the EPR to 1.17 and hit the autothrottle which from there on out took care of adjusting my throttle settings. We did a loop around the airport and set up for the ILS into the airport. I think the most amazing thing about this was how much information is provided through the HUD. Even on short final and flare it gives you the exact nose up attitude for a smooth landing every time. The second approach was very similar except this time it was at night in full IMC. Gulfstream has an advantage when it comes to this, the GV was equipped with a Forward Looking Infrared System. The FLIR is amazing when in IMC. It’s amazing how much sooner you can identify the runway and the surrounding area including terrain.

Well I have to get back to work but I’ll talk to everyone in a couple weeks and in the mean time. Have fun.

Hi everyone, I can’t believe it is already the middle of June! Time flies when you’re having fun. The Continental Internship is much more than I expected. I can’t believe you can experience so much in so little time. The past two weeks at Continental were as good as the first. I performed my usual duties at work, and I still love every minute of it. Since I had a lot of free time, I decided to start studying for my simulator training. I’m going to have my work cut out for the rest of the summer.

During the last 2 weeks in July, I’m going to have the opportunity to attend 3 Continental classes, as well as fly the 737-500 full motion simulator. This is going to be the most rewarding experience of this internship! Continental is going to treat me as a new hire pilot, expecting me to know all of the procedures and checklists by memory. The training will begin with 6 hrs in the flight training device. An FTD is an actual cockpit of the 737, with no visual in front of it. The FTD also doesn’t move, it is hard mounted to the ground. This is used in order for pilots to perfect the checklists and procedures before they fly the full motion simulator. It will also perfect your instrument flying skills because there is no visual of what is outside the cockpit. The full motion simulator is an actual cockpit just like the FTD, however, it is mounted on top of hydraulic actuators. This allows it to move and simulate actually flying through the air. There is also a visual image of in front of the cockpit, simulating the flying environment. The full motion simulator is so realistic, the first time you fly the actual aircraft is with passengers in the back. It sounds like a lot of work, but learning how to fly an $80,000,000 jet is unbelievable. I’ll keep you posted on my progress during the next month and a half.

Finally, I can’t end this journal without the details of an exciting trip right? Well, we didn’t go out of the country this time, but we got to experience something few pilots have. Imagine, being at 25,000 ft and intentionally taking your oxygen mask off! Well, that is exactly what we did today. The other interns and I flew up to Oklahoma City last night for altitude training. We arrived at the FAA facility at 8:00 a.m. and met our professor for the day. He gave us a 3 hr ground school explaining the effects of altitude on the body. We ate lunch, and then the fun and excitement began, it was time for the altitude chamber. An altitude chamber is a big sealed box that simulates climbing in an airplane. The FAA uses this to allow pilots to experience hypoxia, or the lack of oxygen. It trains pilots on what their personal signs are of hypoxia, and how to counteract them before a problem occurs. At 1:00, we all entered the chamber and took our seats. The instructor told us how to use our oxygen masks and what we were going to be doing. The flight started with a gradual rise to 8,000 ft, the altitude of normal passenger aircraft cabin when you fly. Then, we experienced a rapid decompression to 18,000 ft. This simulates a hole being blown in the side of the aircraft. The altitude rose from 8,000 ft to 18,000 ft in 7 seconds. As soon as this happened, we put on our oxygen masks and the room immediately fogged up. Also, the temperature dropped 20 degrees due to the expanding air. Upon reaching 18,000, we continued a gradual climb to 25,000. At 25,000 ft, we all took off our masks to see what it feels like to be hypoxic. After 5 minutes, my head was tingling, my lips turned blue, and I was lightheaded. It was a very interesting feeling, something you don’t want to experience while you are at the controls of an aircraft. After experiencing hypoxia, we all put our oxygen masks on and immediately all of the symptoms were cured. It was amazing how fast you are back to your normal self. We then finished our flight with a gradual descent back to earth. What a fun day! We left the FAA facility at 4:30 and were home by 7. I was in Oklahoma City for less than 24 hrs, and wow, what an experience.

I hope everyone is having as much fun as I am this summer! I’m off to bed, back to work tomorrow.

Two weeks ago there was a chief pilot meeting here in Dallas, where all the chief pilots from all of the bases gather to talk about the changes that are going to start taking place here at American. While I was unable to sit in on the meeting; that evening two other interns and I actually got invited to go out to dinner with the chief pilot from Miami and Los Angeles. Getting the chance to sit down in a relaxed environment outside the office with these guys, talk about the industry and how they got where they are now, was a great experience.

The next evening after work, half of the interns, including myself, had the opportunity to travel to Seattle for a tour of the Boeing assembly plant in Everett, Washington the following day.Leaving the night before thetour gave us a chance to look around Seattle a little in the morning. After making our way down to the bay and fish market area we found where Star Bucks originated. What better way to start your day on a cold wet Seattle morning that a cup of hot Star Bucks coffee? After walking through the market, we met up with the rest of the interns that flew out that morning and traveled north to Everett and the Boeing facility.

The tour we received is not the regular tour anyone off the street would have. Meeting our tour guide, an employee of Boeing, we took the employee shuttle to the back of the assembly building. It should be mentioned that this building is the largest building by volume in the world. Entering through the doors where the 777 is made we spent the most time looking at how this huge plane is put together. From wing assembly, fuselage assembly, interior “guts” of the aircraft, we got to see it all. For a pilot, getting to stick your head up inside the wing of a 777 is quite a rush. Just to put into perspective how big this plane is, the circumference of the engine of a 777 is the circumference of the fuselage of a 737! The horizontal stabilizer on the 777 is only 6 feet shorter than the wing of the 737! This is a big aircraft! Then after going through the assembly you find yourself standing in an area where there are 4 fully assembled 777’s around you, and you are still inside!

After looking all around the 777-assembly area we made our way over to take a look at the new 787. With one already in static testing there were three more on the assembly line. The first two on the line will be used for other testing and the third will be the first 787 to ever fly. To be able to see the plane, which will be the first ever of its kind to fly, was a pretty cool experience. After looking at the 787 we got to look at the 767 and 747 assembly areas. There we were standing next to a fully assembled 747 inside. It is hard to put into words what walking around this assembly building is like. After getting done at Boeing we made our way back to Seattle and the fish market for dinner. Picking a completely random restaurant, as we waited for a seat I sat down on a stool and looked down to find a plaque that read, “Tom Hanks sat here for Sleepless in Seattle.” No one in the group could remember the scene from the movie but nonetheless it was cool and the restaurant, situated with a view over the bay was a great cap to our Seattle experience.

Taking the redeye back to Dallas that night, I arrived back at my apartment at 7:00am and was at work at 8:00am. This is where things got crazy. During lunch we were looking at where we wanted to go for the weekend and where the loads looked good. Traveling as a D2 standby, if you want to get somewhere you need to make sure there are a few open seats. So where did we want to go after being in Seattle not more than 12 hours ago? San Juan, Puerto Rico of course! So 5 o’clock rolled around and we ran home, packed our bags and headed for the airport. Of course, all direct flights were full, so there we were headed to Boston to connect. Arriving in Boston just after midnight we planned on sleeping in the airport until our 6:15am flight to San Juan. However, at 2:30am we were awaken to security telling us we had to leave outside of security because the airport was closing. A few hours later we were back in the airport and sitting first class on a 757 to San Juan. In 48 hours we went from 40-degree temperatures and rain in Seattle to swimming in the Caribbean in San Juan getting a suntan. San Juan is really cool! I completely recommend old San Juan and the fort there around sunset, it was awesome. Spending Sunday getting back to Dallas ended our five-day travel experience.

Monday morning brought around more flying though, this time in the form of a 737 simulator. For four hours another intern and myself got time in the left seat of a 737. From taxi, takeoff, and approaches we got a chance to do it all. Shooting about five approaches into San Francisco we got a chance to try our best to land the 737. My first landing was anything but smooth, with solid contact with the ground the 737 simulator rocked and rolled. We were then given a chance to land the 737 using the heads up display or HUD. This is an awesome piece of equipment and produced a very smooth landing, even in adverse weather. The coolest part though, was landing in 000/000 conditions, feeling the wheels touch and never seeing the runway was very interesting. The HUD even has rollout runway centerline guidance so after wheels stopped our instructor removed the weather to reveal that we were perfectly centerline on the runway after never even seeing it, that is incredible.

This week we also got the chance to meet with an American Eagle recruiter. While American Eagle isn’t currently hiring, the recruiter gave us a lot of good tips on interviewing with any airline and told us what she expected in the next year for American Eagle. She told us that even through they aren’t officially hiring right now, we still might be able to interview at the end of our internship and that they could hold our file until they start hiring again, which would be at least good interview experience.

This past weekend, another intern from Purdue and I headed out to Salt Lake City on Friday after work. Finding some comfortable chairs we slept in the airport and then rented a car and drove up into the Rockies to a ski resort called Snowbird. Yes, we went snow skiing in the middle of June! While the snow was late spring conditions, there was still plenty of snow on the top of the mountain and on the backside of the mountain for skiing. After a solid morning of skiing the snow started to soften up quite a bit by midday so we went back down to the car. Jumping on the internet, we looked at flights and decided we could ski for another hour and then catch a flight to Chicago and connect to Dallas. Doing just that we skied for a little bit longer and then raced across the country flying on the 777 from ORD to DFW arriving back in Dallas just 24 hours after we left. It was hard to believe that last week we were laying out on a beach in San Juan and here we were this weekend snow skiing, this summer has already been a once in a lifetime experience.

Cheers,

Jacob

A chill wind is blowing through the trees and rain clouds threaten overhead as I reflect on the past week’s adventures, sitting on the back porch of our monastery-apartment overlooking the countryside of Tuscany. Though the weather has not been accommodatinglately, we did not let it dictate our plans for theweek. Four-fifths of the way through our time in Italy we completed projects on Dante’s Inferno, cooked an entire Italian meal from scratch under the guidance of a real chef,explored the Wednesday market of Siena,and took a weekend trip to Venice, the City of Love.

Tuesday afternoon Dr. Parker gave us an introduction to the poet Dante Alighieri. Native to Florence, Dante wrote his masterpiece the Divine Comedy, an epic three-part poem about a journey through Hell to reach Purgatory and finally Paradise. Because our study time in Italy is limited, Dr. Parker chose for us to study only The Inferno, which covers the arguably most interesting portion of the epic –Hell. Each of us were given about three Cantos, or chapters, to study and present on to the class. We spent our afternoon classes on Tuesday and Wednesday recounting Dante’s travels down through the depths of Hell to the very center of the earth. The grotesque but creative imagery of Dante’s Hell held everyone captivated.

I have to say that one of our class’s most favorite activities so far was the cooking class. Tuesday after class we all trouped down to the kitchen of the school where we were met by our Italian professor, Enzo, and a bona fide Italian chef named Nando. Both were dressed in traditional chefs’ uniforms of white. They provided us each with a disposable apron and a list of the dishes we would be making. The dinner for the evening consisted of a crostini (toast) appetizer with sardine toppings, fresh pasta with tomato and pesto sauce –all made from scratch, a dish of turkey rolled with vegetable paste, and rich tiramisu.

Once we had all heard Nando’s explanations of how to make the varying dishes and sauces, we spread out around the kitchen and set to work. Joe and I watched several of the others start mixing and kneading the pasta dough before we found something to do. By carefully separating the eggs, yolk from white, we started the process of making the tiramisu. Later we traded the tiramisu over to someone else and helped to cut the pasta and lay it out on trays. With great guidance and direction from Enzo and Nando, we soon had an amazing meal prepared and we were all hungry and ready to eat.

The meal was beyond superb. We enjoyed each dish immensely, savoring them with white and red wine. The entire meal must have taken close to two hours just to eat because we all took the time to really taste the food. There is no meal so satisfying as one that you have cooked personally, especially when it is new to your tongue and fills your stomach just right.

The next morning we visited the market of Siena as a class, professors included. Some of us had shopped there on previous Wednesdays, but Enzo wanted the chance to show us around, relating things we saw to what we had learned in class. Markets in Italy are much like flea markets at home. Vendors set up their temporary booths and watch them fill with people, ready to haggle for the best price. It can be extremely hard to move through the market because of the crowds, but if you find something you really like, chances are you can get it for a fairly low price.

First Enzo took us through the part of the market where abbigliamenti, or clothing, is sold. All kinds of styles are represented there, from trendy dresses and shirts, to leather jackets, and lacy underwear. The next section contained scarpe, or shoes. The endless types of shoes have a wide range of prices, but vendors are often willing to bargain with shoppers. I was tempted several times by stylish high heels, but in this case I decided I could get similar prices at home. Last we looked at paste, the Italian word for food. You can buy cooked meats like chicken and rabbit, cold prosciutto, fried potatoes, mozzarella balls, fresh fruits, and more. By this time my stomach was growling so, on Enzo’s recommendation, I bought some small chicken legs and mozzarella balls to share with Joe. We also bought a couple juicy nectarines before heading back to the school for our second class.

At 6 a.m. the next morning, everyone stumbled down the long hill to the train station, backpacks loaded for the weekend trip to Venice. We had to walk because the buses do not run so bright and early. When we reached the station, we boarded a bus to Bologna. Everyone slept for the majority of the ride and continued to do so once we caught the train from Bologna to Venice.

Upon arrival in the City of Love, we all gathered around Dr. Parker as she pointed out the vaporetto station. The vaporettos are like a public bus system, only they are boats. We bought our tickets and boarded awaiting boat for the ride to our hostel. The particular hostel we stayed in was not exactly what we were used to –no toilet seats, males and females separated on different floors, shower curtains and bathroom locks hard to come by. But after the long day of traveling I resolved that if I could just get a good night’s sleep it would be alright. The room was fairly quiet in the evening so fortunately I did indeed sleep well.

Friday morning we all met up in front of the bell tower in St. Mark’s Square, famous for beautiful architecture and legions of pigeons flocking to bread crumb-throwing tourists. According to Mike, one of our classmates from the Prescott campus, the pigeons were not nearly so bad this year as they were the year before. Next Dr. Parker led us into St. Mark’s Basilica where we were enthralled by the famous mosaics that cover the majority of wall, ceiling, and floor space of the entire building. What added to the experience and made it different from all the other churches we had seen was the eastern influence of the architecture. Rather than Gothic spires and scenes of the Crucifixion, we saw pointed arches and windows and scenes of a resurrected Christ.

Entrance to the main area was free but certain interesting sections cost an extra couple of euros to visit. I paid three euros to see relics and treasures from the days during which the Basilica was built. Among these were boxes and chalices covered with gold plating, pearls, and beautiful stones. One box was said to even contain a piece of the true cross of Christ. Also present were bones and even skulls that supposedly once belonged to some of the saints. I paid another two euros to go up behind the altar where I saw a great golden scene of Christ and his apostles surrounded by angels and hundreds of emeralds, rubies, sapphires, and pearls. Behind this lay a decorative coffin that was claimed to hold the body of St. Mark himself.

After the Basilica we all boarded a vaporetto for another island. One of the great charms of Venice is its handmade glass, attributed to the skillful glass-masters of Murano. When we arrived on the island, a shopkeeper informed us that most of the glass-masters had stopped for lunch. We took the waiting time to find and eat our own lunches. At this point Joe and I decided to split off from the others. One of the hazards of sight-seeing with a large group is the tendency for a few to slow the rest down. It was fortunate that we did separate because it turned out that no one saw the glass-making except us. Several furnaces charged for the viewing, but we wandered on until we found one for free. The show was very brief, less than five minutes, but mainly because the glass-master was so adept and quick with his work. In that short amount of time he used one technique –not actual blowing but sort of waving the glass around on the end of a pole—to make a clear vase, and another technique done with hand tools to create a red-orange horse figure. The crowd was in awe of his speed and agility and I barely had enough time to get a semi-acceptable photo.

After Murano, Joe and I took the vaporetto back to our hostel for a quick rest. We met up with a few of the others there who told us the rest were all planning to eat dinner near the train station in a short while. We joined them for the boat-ride back to the other side of Venice for another delicious Italian meal. I had spaghetti and a thin steak while Joe ate lasagna with his meat. For whatever reason, perhaps just the grandness of the city around me, I was feeling generous and bought a bottle of merlot for my table.

Later that evening, as we wandered back towards St. Mark’s square wondering what else we should do, someone suggested taking a magical gondola ride. Unfortunately our group contained thirteen people and the most that can ride in one gondola is six. Either one person would be left behind or someone else would have to make a sacrifice. We ended up going in two groups of four with the rest staying behind. The evening was calm and quiet, the waterways between buildings absolutely lovely. It would have been a perfect ride if only one of our group had been a little less enthusiastic. He was so excited to be aboard a gondola that he couldn’t help but talk loudly and lean from side to side, rocking the little boat from time to time. Even so it was still magical and fantastic and a ride I will never forget.

While most of our classmates headed back to Siena on Saturday morning, Joe and I stayed around a little longer to do some shopping. Accompanied by our friend Nick, we explored the shops around St. Mark’s square and down a couple side streets, doing our best to stay out of the pouring rain. When we were getting close to time to catch our train, we had each bought quite a few gifts for friends and family at home, and were plenty ready to get away from the rain and rest on the ride home.

One week left to go and I am anxious to get home. I have had an amazing time in Italy but I miss many things from home like cheeseburgers, terry-cloth towels, and queen-sized beds that are not made out of two smaller mattresses. In my final week abroad I plan to take as much advantage as I can of the things that exist here but not in the U.S. Delicious gelato and copious amounts of pasta aside, I look forward to boarding the plane for Florida.

Ever had one of those falling dreams where you suddenly jolt and realize you are just in bed. You look around and everything is silent. The experience leaves you quite a bit shaken. Well, this is how I would describe our third and final stop, Qinhuangdao. After traveling through bustling Beijing and antsy Xi An, Qinhuangdao was a sudden jolt of silence and solitude. Though not without its share of familiar noises like excessive car horn usage, yelling vendors and the delicate dips and tones of the Chinese language, it had the luxury of being more rural and located by the ocean. Located a four-hour train ride north of Beijing, this historical seaside port and resort is known for its pearls, seafood and summer residents, such as the late Premier Mao Zedong. The city’s location also supplied sounds of seagulls, beaching waves and giggling residents. Although it may not make sense to discuss the sense of sound in Qinhuangdao, sometimes the absence of sound in one city makes us realize the sounds we heard and might have missed in others.

Beijing Beeping

Upon arrival to Beijing, our group was inundated with noise. Whether it was from the upset passengers on our flight, the busy lost luggage counter clerk, the two money exchange ladies or the fast paced taxi drivers, our ringing ears were overwhelmed. Even our arrival was welcomed by a million car chorus of car horns extraordinaire. Well, actually, our driver just wanted to get to our hotel quickly and since he was the biggest, we honked the loudest. And so we were introduced to the game of car versus pedestrian, a seemingly daily Chinese tradition. To play, you must either be casually walking across the street or be madly gripping the steering wheel of a speeding car. Check. Now, if you are the pedestrian, be sure to ignore all crosswalk signs and don’t look both ways when you cross the road. After all, the pedestrian has the right of way. Right? If you are a taxi driver, be sure to swerve in and out of traffic belligerently, honking your horn at anything and everything within a city-wide radius. Pull up closely to cyclists and blare your horn as you cut them off. Aim directly for the elderly couple or the woman with the toddler. But, be sure to act nonchalant and ignore the pleas from your passengers to slow down. After all, once you drop them off they will become pedestrians and potential targets.

After a while, amongst this near insanity of drivers and braveness of pedestrians, you begin to relax. As a pedestrian, you learn to run. I mean haul your behind so fast you would think you were qualifying last minute for the Olympics. I became so good at jay-walking I even walked in front of the Chinese. Walking is not the time to be timid in China. As a passenger, there were a few times I thought either I or the pedestrian would be killed. Once, the driver didn’t even honk until he had bumped the pedestrian. Unscathed and unphased, the pedestrian looked sourly at the driver and continued walking into traffic. And even if traffic is at a standstill and there is no chance of moving for awhile, the taxi drivers will continue to blow those horns like they have a quota to fill. This chorus continues well into the night, even after taxi service had stopped. I guess patience is no longer a virtue. While sitting in the back, since I nearly refused to ride in the front, I thought, “Whatever happened to turning up the radio in traffic and settling in to figure out what the license plate of the driver in front really means?”

Beijing Building

In addition to the sporadic meeting of car horn quota, the incessant noise of jackhammers, reversing sirens and cranes filled the day and nighttime air. It is no secret, at least not a quiet secret that the country is in the midst of preparation for the Summer Olympics, and no city more so than Beijing. Local Chinese joke that the Chinese national bird has become the construction crane. All over the city, these national birds are constructing buildings including their own “Bird’s Nest,” a steal woven stadium where the Olympic opening and closing events will take place. The National Stadium, the building’s actual name, will also host the track and field events and the soccer finals in its 2.8 million-square-foot, 91,000-seat stadium. In addition to Olympic site construction, China is scrambling to create a cleaner ambiance and smoother infrastructure in downtown Beijing. During our first two weeks in Beijing, construction cluttered our pathways. We watched as new sidewalks were put in, parking lots were constructed and hutongs were torn down. Destruction of these traditionally single-story neighborhoods of homes from China’s dynastic period made way to the construction of high rises, leaving rubble of oven-baked bricks to resemble a war zone. Hutongs, though increasingly disappearing, now house small boutiques and night-life scenes.

Once the dust had settled and we returned two weeks later, we had to learn an entirely new Beijing. In anticipation of heavy public transportation use, the subway grid had changed and we now had to herd like cattle through numerous turnstiles and barricades. The Olympic weightlifting compound located across the street from our Beihang hotel now had newly-bricked sidewalks and white plastic tents covering all the entrances. But what fun would it be if we actually knew what we were doing in China?

Dance Dance REVOLUTION

It was in one of the hutongs that our group stumbled upon Propaganda, a three-story nightclub aimed at foreign tourists. Our group was really just looking for a way to unwind from two weeks worth of classes and immersion and we picked the right place. The top floors housed a restaurant/bar, but most of the patrons crammed into the bottom-level dance floor. The dance floor, which more resembled a basement, had exposed concrete walls covered in the club’s namesake Chinese propaganda and a DJ spinning American tunes from two years ago. Though it was a dance floor, it became more of a mosh pit, with the few Chinese patrons jumping up and down to their favorite songs. When a more recent song came on that actually had choreography, we taught the locals the “Soulja Boy.” But, the locals were few and far between amongst the patrons. Though the staff and DJ were Chinese, it took us just a moment to notice that we were mostly in the company of our fellow countrymen. It was a relief to hear English from people other than those in our group. After a few hours, we had almost forgotten we were in China until we stepped outside into the street filled with Chinese revelers catching 2 a.m. snacks from street vendors and sounds of honking taxis and demolition crews.

Loogie Launches

Not all the sounds of the city were welcomed or humorous. Before I had left, I had been told to wear close-toed shoes because the streets were disgusting. I assumed that meant there would be garbage strewn streets and other discarded rubbish. But early in the trip I cursed being a Floridian and staying true to my flip-flop roots. Before my U.S. departure, I bought a pair of new Rainbows for my trip because I knew they would be comfortable walking shoes and would go with every outfit I packed (Yeah, I know. I am a girl.) But, when the first random Beijing cabbie spit on my freshly manicured toes, I hoped my numerous antibiotics would protect me and that he had good dental insurance for his soon-to-be lost teeth. However, lack of manners can be overlooked in a country filled with people choking down dust and pollution-infused air. No wonder they are congested. Even after only a few days, we also found ourselves following the Chinese custom of spitting and clearing throats. The little mucus deposits multiplied on the busy streets and sidewalks like gum stuck under a high school desk. I can’t begin to tell you how nasty it is to listen to someone clear their throat and only hope he or she hits the targeted ground and not the foot covering the ground.

Street Vendor Surprise

I have had a very love/hate relationship with the Chinese street vendors throughout my trip. Sure their food was cheap and readily available, but despite being grateful for some lost weight, they didn’t quite pass my health inspection or animal rights code to be my main source of nourishment. But, nonetheless, the rest of the group would drag me along to their meals, leaving me to just listen in on the excitement. I have discussed the taste, but there is also a distinct sound of a street vendor. First, you have the preparation sounds. There is of course the chopping of the vegetables, popping of the cooking oil and the occasional talk of what type of meat is available tonight. But, there is also the swift, umm, dispatch of formerly fresh and swimming meat as was the case when I accidentally had a craving for fish. The vendor, seeing my curiosity and video camera, grabbed the fish out of a water-filled cart, smacked it over the head twice with a wooden 2 x 4 and started prepping the meat. Through shocked eyes and a slack jaw, I looked down past the fish only to notice how handy that Tide-to-Go my mother had packed would become when I could finally clean the new red spots off my white polo. Through my grimace, he began removing the fish scales with a tool that looked much like a foot scrapper used for a pedicure. Following the spitting incident I had considered getting a pedicure, but suddenly I didn’t feel it was necessary. As I gathered myself and my lost appetite, I also thought being a vegetarian wasn’t such a ghastly idea.

The next common vendor sound is the bubbling of the oil and sizzle of the meat on the grill. It is always a good sound of cooking meat because all too often I found myself curled up because of this forgotten step. Finally, the last sound is that of crying. I am talking hunched over, sobbing, with snot running out your nose, crying. When I told my friends I was going to China, they all said, “Careful of the meat. They will serve you dog.” Already through most of the trip I had learned that many of my preconceived notions of China, as well as some wild stereotypes of Americans, had been debunked. My favorite Chinese concept of the Americans was we were “all a little crazy and probably should be medicated.” During a conversation with one of my language partners, he blurted out he thought “Americans are dangerous” because “they own guns and shoot the guns every morning.” I sure don’t fit that characteristic, nor does anyone that I know, but then again I thought all Chinese were short (I must have overlooked Shanghai basketball star, Yao Ming). And I thought that eating dog, widely considered a delicacy in China, was also a misconception. That was until I saw a cooked one smiling at me and I cried. I am talking hunched over, sobbing, with snot running out your nose, crying. As the vendor laughed and tried to move Lassie closer to me, I buried my face into my hands and hoped for better. I suddenly craved fish, but we all now how well that craving turned out. Again, I cried. Now, where was that medication?

Flash. Bang.

The day after we climbed Mount Hua in Xi An, the group had settled in for a bit of relaxation. Some of us were doing homework. Some were napping. Some were even sneaking into the Chinese wedding reception five floors below us. I was of the middle group, recovering from yet another bout of food poisoning. Suddenly, the bed shook and there were loud popping noises coming from outside the window. In a daze and struggling to get out my ear plugs, take off my sleep mask and dive to the floor, I thought, “My mother was right. I am going to die in an aftershock.” My mother, though smart enough to pack me Tide-to-Go, couldn’t prepare me for the wedding’s celebratory firecrackers. And, in all respect to my language partner and his “dangerous impression” of Americans, if I shot guns off every morning, I would not be taking cover under my plywood-hard bed on the 7th floor every time someone sets off a Chinese firecracker. Instead, I would be laughing at my fellow classmates who had snuck into the wedding and found themselves ducking for cover behind the wedding party.

Backstreet in the Backstreet

Travels between our three different destinations were long, including fourteen and twenty hour train rides. Because time was long and boredom was strong, the group had a penchant for sporadic singing contests, especially to Disney songs like Aladdin’s “A Whole New World.” I used to sing in the choir back when I was in middle school and my mom was the choir director. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t in the choir for my musical talent or love for sequined vests. And I wasn’t the only one on the trip either who had sung in choir or just liked the sound of our voice in the shower. For that matter, one of our fellow student’s Chinese name even translated to “sings in shower.” So, when we arrived in Qinhuangdao to find the main form of entertainment, karaoke, located next to our hotel, we were excited to have an actual stage. In China, the karaoke rooms are rented out by the hour and can hold up to twenty people, just enough to terribly embarrass the mike-holder. Including the professor, her husband, and ten of the students, our professor also invited her sister-in-law and brother to join us. After a few of us had broken the ice with “A Whole New World” and “Hotel California,” the sister-in-law casually walked up to the mike. She looked slightly shy as she picked a popular Chinese song. Her shyness faded as she busted out in a perfect mezzo-soprano. The remaining group looked at each other and thought we had missed amateur night.

Not only did we like the punishment the first time, but we went back for more with our Chinese language partners. For the final meeting with our language partners, we invited them to karaoke. That night, we had Chinese and American students having a sing off in two languages, both off-key and to off-color songs, but nonetheless, interesting and funny. But, it was the quiet group members who readily grabbed the mike and shocked the rest of us. One such member expressed himself vocally to an Asian-accented Linkin Park’s “Bleed It Out” and another sang a pre-breakdown Britney Spears’ “Lucky.”

However, it was our last sing-off that cemented our pop star status and a real reason for all those paparazzi photos throughout the trip. While sharing our last lunch at a local dumpling place, the restaurant’s speakers suddenly blasted a surprising rendition of “I Want It That Way” by the Backstreet Boys. Although sung in Chinese by a Chinese pop star, we filled in the English and the dance moves from our middle school dance days. A small group of local children and restaurant patrons watched in a bit of embarrassment and interest, but clapped when the seven of us were done. After all, we were in our own “whole new world” simply filling in with a bit of home.

Final Falling Dream

“What is your name?” the voice said in broken Chinglish. All I could think was “Am I alive? That was some fall.” At 200 feet, it was some fall and I had jumped it. The last day as a group, the professor took us to a local ecological center. Although the organic lunch, beautiful orchards and cute farm animals were captivating, it was the site’s amusement park that piqued the group’s excitement. And when I saw that bungee jumping platform, I grabbed four other group members and took the leap.

That first step off into the fast moving space between the slow-flowing river and my flailing body was intensely gratifying. I heard my classmate cheering me on and I hoped I would stop spinning in tiny circles. With the blood still rushing to my head and my eyes blacking out momentarily, I grabbed for the hook-like contraption and clutched on to a Chinese man no bigger than my 5’1 frame. He smiled and repeated his question, “What is your name?” “Ou Wen Hai,” I replied as I smiled towards the shore. My Chinese name may mean “sea of words,” but I was speechless on that river.

This week, Joe and I spent more time exploring the charms of Siena. It was relaxing for us after our past weekend of traveling and we were grateful for the chance to catch up on our rest while the others were off visiting new places.

Wednesday after class, everyone walked down to the very heart of Siena for a tour of Gino Cacino’s ham, cheese, and wine shop. Dr. Parker told us that this year was the first time they had tried this tour. Gino turned out to be the friendliest, most enthusiastic, and helpful shop owner we had yet encountered. The experience was not so much a tour as it was an explanation, with several colorful visuals, of how Gino and his employees make cheese and age ham right in their shop. We didn’t get to look in the back where the work actually took place, but with the help of Luca’s translations –Gino didn’t seem to speak a word of English—we soon had a general understanding of the process for aging cheese and ham.

The best part was when Gino brought out trays of salami, prosciutto, goat cheese, and parmesan for us to taste. Prosciutto is actually slices of aged and cured ham that are eaten uncooked. It makes delicious sandwiches or snacks with cheese and bread. I had never tried goat cheese before, but it was even better than the parmesan. We also tried red and white wine, as well as some dessert wine that we dipped pieces of biscotti into in the traditional Italian fashion. Biscotti are basically any kind of cookie, but the ones we tried were specifically crunchy and had sliced almonds mixed into them.

Gino was generous with his samples and we took our time munching while taking photos and examining his shop. He had one wall with several magazine clippings about his work and his shop. We determined that he is fairly famous in the area and he definitely deserves his excellent reputation. To thank him for his hospitality, several of us bought wine and cheeses from his shop to take back to our residences for later.

On Friday afternoon, Joe and I were scheduled to take the wine-tasting tour that we had missed the week before. We went into town early to eat lunch and check our messages online. When we returned to the bus stop to find our tour guide and the tour bus, we nearly missed the whole thing for a second time. We had been told to look for the tour guide that our classmates had had on their trip, but no one who couldpossibly be guiding a wine tour matched the description of the man we had been given. While we were searching, a group began to form in front of the pub where we were told to meet our tour guide. I overheard one woman talking about a wine tour and Joe recognized some of the girls from our local school Dante Alighieri. By the time we finally asked the woman who appeared to be in charge, they were boarding the bus for departure.

After several tense minutes of explanation and a few phone calls by the woman to her tour company, we were told we could join the tour. Apparently we had the wrong information about the tour guide, and we didn’t even know the name of the company, but Valencia, the actual tour guide for that day, was glad to have us after the confusion was cleared up.

The tour began with an exhilarating ride over rolling hills and around sharply bent roads. Fortunately the weather held out for most of the trip and the sunshine made the landscape all the more glorious. In Florida, or at least in Daytona Beach, there is not much landscape to enjoy. But the Tuscany region is made up of the most gorgeous vistas –carefully rowed vineyards broken by patches of olive groves and small hamlets with their quaint homes and shops. We stopped at the top of a very high hill, looking out on these sights in both directions, in order to allow us tourists to enjoy the view and take memorable photos.

Next we visited a little town called Radda in Chianti which seemed to be about a tenth the size of Siena. You could walk every street in about twenty minutes and surely everyone who lives there knows one another. The small size added to its charm and Joe and I quickly found ourselves enjoying the local shops. We had just enough time to find a few gifts for friends, take some lovely photos, and walk back to the tour bus.

The next stop was smaller still, not even a town, just a tiny hamlet among the vineyards and hills. There weren’t even any shops for us to browse and the total population was only about fifty people. We followed the tour guide on a brief, informal walk through one side of the hamlet and back up the other, just to get a taste of the simplicity of life there.

Finally we made our last stop at the main base of operations for Castello D’albola, the major wine maker of the area. The office and some of the wine cellars are located in the actual castle building. We wereshown three different locations of wine barrels holding wine in the aging process. Then we entered the office area where the wine tastings are held. We tried five different kinds of wine altogether but even more than the wines, I really enjoyed the olive oil. It tasted almost like some sort of grape syrup, possibly due to the fact that we tried if after sampling all the wine. I couldn’t help but make a purchase for myself and my family.

The next day Joe had made plans to meet up with his Italian skateboarding friend, Elisseo. The two had met on an online forum for finding others interested in extreme sports. When Joe decided he would be going to Italy, it worked out nicely as Elisseo lives in the outskirts of Siena.

I joined Joe and Elisseo for the skating session, but only to take photos and watch. While I have come far in my skateboarding skills, I am still nowhere near able to manage the hills that Joe enjoys. The particular hill they had chosen for that day was a little narrow but very long with a steep enough incline to get moving quite fast. The surrounding area was beautiful with many wildflowers, a small vineyard, and mountains visible in the distance. Joe and Elisseo spent about two hours skating the hill while I amused myself with my camera.

Later that evening, Joe and I took the bus into town to explore the possibility of enjoying an Irish music festival. In the process of locating the festival, we discovered that there is quite a large area of Siena that is grassy and covered in plants. It lies to the southeast of the city center, the exact area which we had not yet had reason to visit. We also found the most breathtaking view of Siena and the surrounding countryside visible from a park not far from the school where we study. When the music finally started we enjoyed the lively rhythms of an Irish fiddle, a cello, and a guitar played by a couple of Irish women who call themselves the Clover Duo. We also enjoyed a glass of Guinness and some traditional Irish jacket potatoes before taking our leave of the festival.

There are now two weeks left in the study abroad program and I can feel myself getting a little homesick. But there are still a few more adventures to be had before we prepare to head back to Florida and I know we will make the best of them that we can.