Up in the Air - Final Test

Growing up in Sioux Falls, South Dakota, a small city surrounded by endless plains, I've found unexpected echoes of home in China's smaller towns — from the warmth of locals in Huaihua, Central China's Hunan province, to the quiet charm of Yangshuo, South China's Guangxi Zhuang autonomous region. With an itch to see more of China's lesser-visited regions, I began planning a trip to the northwest with seven friends — five Americans, one Pakistani, one Zimbabwean, and one Colombian. We bought round-trip tickets from Shanghai to Yinchuan, Ningxia Hui autonomous region, for less than $120 each. From there, we planned to rent a car and drive to Xining in Qinghai, then on to Qinghai Lake, and finally to Lanzhou, Gansu. To make that possible, several of us applied for Chinese driver's licenses, a process that involved translating our US licenses into Mandarin and passing a short test on traffic laws. Within a day, we were licensed. As we piled into two rental cars in late March to begin our eight-day journey, it became clear that this wasn't just a road trip — it was the culmination of our four years in China, the Mandarin we had so diligently studied, and our ongoing effort to contribute to US-China people-to-people relations. Right away, we drew curious reactions. At the Yinchuan airport, taxi drivers offered us rides into the city, only to stare in astonishment when we told them we had rented cars. "You're driving? In China?" one driver asked, visibly surprised. It was a reaction we'd encountered multiple times during our trip, as foreign drivers are rare in China, especially in remote regions. In Yinchuan, we stocked up on snacks and adjusted to the chilly desert air. From there, we headed west, navigating wide highways framed by dramatic landscapes: arid plains, jagged mountains, and occasionally, a herd of sheep crossing the road. The vastness of the Northwest was humbling — and as someone who grew up on the wide-open prairies of South Dakota, it felt oddly familiar. One of the highlights of our trip was camping by Qinghai Lake, the largest saltwater lake in China. A few summers ago, Santiago Solano, one of my classmates from the US, cycled from Xi'an in Shaanxi to Urumqi in the Xinjiang Uygur autonomous region over the course of a month and met many kind strangers along the way. One of them was Geng San, a Tibetan lamb herder who managed a piece of land right next to Qinghai Lake and graciously invited us to camp there. "That's what China is — it's the people. The quiet generosity of an old Tibetan nomad who, years after we first met, still offered us a place to rest on his land," said Solano, who is also part of the group on this trip. But apparently, we underestimated just how cold it would be to camp next to Qinghai Lake in late March. It was deathly freezing. In preparation for the trip, we had ordered two tent kits and eight sleeping bags. However, when the temperature eventually dropped to — 10 C, all of us piled into the cars and turned the heaters on. So much for camping. From Qinghai Lake, we drove to Lanzhou, where we visited many food markets and tried every type of noodle on offer. Since we are college students, we rented a gaming hotel room — something I've only ever seen in China. At night, instead of attending local parties as we had before, we stayed in the hotel and gamed late into the morning. For me, the trip was as much about the journey as it was about the destinations. Driving through Northwest China gave us a unique perspective on the region's natural beauty and its people. At gas stations, shopkeepers greeted us with curiosity and kindness, often offering recommendations for nearby attractions. At roadside carts, we sampled local specialties, grabbing a quick skewer and a mango for the road. And at every stop, we were touched by the warmth and hospitality that make traveling in China so rewarding. As an American who has lived in China for several years, I'm often asked about my experiences here. Trips like this one remind me of the similarities between the two countries, despite their differences. Just as road trips are a quintessential part of American culture, they've become my favorite way to explore China. Whether it's driving through the rolling hills of South Dakota or the deserts of Ningxia, there's something universal about the freedom and camaraderie that come with having complete control over where you end up. Written by Charlie Howes, a 22-year-old American who has lived in China since 2019. He completed his final year of high school at Beijing No 80 High School and is currently studying at New York University Shanghai. He has founded a company in China focused on facilitating US-China trade and plans to continue living in Shanghai long term. He enjoys road trips, cycling around the world, learning languages, and meeting new people.

LESSON 4. Cellular Respiration • Define cellular respiration • Identify the stages of clan respiration You have just learned how the energy from the sun is captured, processed, and stored in the form of glucose. Cellular respiration, another important life process, is the means by which cells release the stored energy in glucose to make adenosine triphosphate (ATP). The primary goal of this life process is to convert stored energy into usable form, such as ATP, for the cells to carry out their functions. Cellular respiration involves several chemical reactions. The reactions can be summed up in the following equation: C6 H12 O6 + 602 ----- 6 CO₂ +6H₂O + ATP Glucose oxygen carbon dioxide water energy Aerobic respiration reactions, or cellular respiration that takes place in the presence of oxygen, can be grouped into three stages glycolysis, Krebs cycle, and electron transport chain (ETC). Stage 1: Glycolysis Glycolysis is the process that breaks down one molecule of 6-C glucose into 3-C pyruvates or pyruvic acids. It also releases four molecules of ATP. This process occurs in the cytoplasm of the cell. The following is the step-by-step process of glycolysis. Take note that several enzymes are involved in this process. 1. The first step of glycolysis requires energy. It can only proceed when the two ATP molecules donate energy to the glucose by transferring a phosphate group with the help of an enzyme, producing glucose 6-phosphate 2. Then, a specific enzyme promotes the rearrangement of the atoms, producing the fructose 6-phosphate. 3. The action of the enzyme in step 2 promotes the transfer of a phosphate group from another ATP molecule, forming fructose 1,6-bisphosphate. 4. The resulting fructose 1,6-bisphosphate molecules, with the help of another enzyme, splits into two molecules, each with three carbon backbones. These two sugars are dihydroxyacetone phosphate and glyceraldehyde 3-phosphate. 5. Another important enzyme then rapidly interconverts the molecules of dihydro-xyacetone phosphate and glyceraldehyde 3-phosphate. This produces two molecules of glyceraldehyde 3-phosphate or 3-phosphoglyceraldehyde (PGAL) 6. The succeeding step involves another enzyme-mediated action. The hydrogen (H) from PGAL is transferred to the oxidizing agent, nicotinamide adenine dinucleotide (NAD), which forms NADH. A phosphate (P) is also added from the cytosol of the cell to oxidize the two molecules of PGAL, forming two 1.3-bisphosphoglycerate. 7. A phosphate (P) from 1,3-biphosphoglycerate is transferred to ADP to form ATP. This happens for each of the two 1,3-bisphosphoglycerate. resulting to a yield of two ATP and two 3-phosphoglycerate molecules. 8. A phosphate is transferred from 3-phosphoglycerate molecules from the third carbon to the second carbon, forming 2-phosphoglycerate molecules A hydrogen atom and a hydroxyl ((OH) group is released, which then combines to form water (H2O). The removal of H2O from 2-phosphoglycerate results in the formation of 2- phosphoglycerate molecules. 9. A hydrogen atom and a hydroxyl ((OH) group is released, which then combines to form water (H2O). The removal of H2O from 2-phosphoglycerate results in the formation of two phosphoenolpyruvic acid (PEP) 10. Phosphate (P) from PEP is transferred to ADP (and forms ATP) and the final product, pyruvic acid. This reaction yields two molecules of pyruvic acid and two ATP molecules In summary, a single glucose molecule that undergoes the process of glycolysis produces two molecules of pyruvic acid, four molecules of ATP, two molecules of NADEL and two molecules of H.O. However, only two molecules of ATP are counted as net products since two molecules of ATP are spent throughout the process. Stage II: Krebs Cycle The Krebs cycle, named after its proponent Sir Hans Adolf Krebs, is a cyclical series of enzyme-controlled reactions. This stage of cellular respiration occurs in the matrix of the mitochondria. It is sometimes. called the citric acid cycle (CAC) since it produces citric acid. Citric acid contains three carboxyl (COOH) groups; hence, it is also called the tricarboxylic acid cycle (TCA). This requires the pyruvic acids produced during glycolysis. The main function of this cycle is to produce high-energy-yielding molecules, namely, NADH and flavin adenine dinucleotide (FADH) that will later on be used in the electron transport chain reaction. Figure 6-7. Summary of glycolysis and corresponding products in each reaction presented (See Appendix F on page 285 for an enlarged and complete version of the image.) An initial process is needed for the Krebs cycle to begin. As a pyruvate molecule from glycolysis enters the mitochondrion, it undergoes an important preliminary ate to form acetyl-CoA reaction. Coenzyme-A (COA) combines with pyruvate help of an enzymatic complex. This conversion also produces CO, and NADH. The Krebs cycle is summarized as follows. Take note that several enzymes are involved in this process. 1. The Krebs cycle technically begins when the acetyl-CoA combines with oxaloacetic acid (OAA), a 4-C molecule, to produce citric acid, a 6-C molecule. 2. With the aid of an enzyme, the citric acid now goes through a series of reactions that releases energy. Water molecule is removed from the citric acid and is returned in a different location. The-OH group is repositioned, forming the molecule isocitrate. 3. Isocitrate is then oxidized, forming the a-ketoglutarate, a 5-C molecule. The byproducts of this reaction are NADH and CO, 4 The a-ketoglutarate loses its CO, and a coenzyme-A is added in its place. The decarboxylation occurs with the help of NAD, which then becomes NADH. The resulting molecule is called succinyl-CoA. 5. Succinyl-CoA is converted into succinate. Also in this reaction, a molecule of guanosine triphosphate (GTP) is synthesized. The GTP molecule has similar structure and energy properties to that of ATP and is used by cells the same way. The free phosphate group attacks the succinyl-CoA molecule, which detaches the COA. Then, phosphate is attached to GDP to come up with GTP, similar to the process that occur in ATP synthesis (from ADP to ATP). 6. Two hydrogens are removed from succinate, A molecule of flavin adenine dinucleotide (FAD), a coenzyme similar to NAD, is reduced to FADH, as it takes the hydrogens from the succinate. This reaction produces the fumarate. 7. Fumarate is then converted into malate as the addition of a water molecule is catalyzed. The final reaction is the regeneration of oxaloacetate. The resulting byproduct of this regeneration is NADH Recall that two pyruvate molecules were produced during glycolysis, causing the Krebs cycle to turn twice. Each tuts produces three molecules of NADH, single ATH one FADIH, and the by-product CO, which is exhaled. Stage III: Electron Transport Chain The electron transport chain (ETC) is a series of photon pumps on the inner membrane of the mitochondrion. Electron transport is the last stage of the cellular respiration. In this stage, the energy from NADH and FADH, from the Krebs cycle is transferred to ADP to produce ATP. This process is generally known as oxidative phosphorylation. This energy coupling mechanism in the cell was revealed by the work of Peter stored energy in the form of proton (1) gradient to phosphorylate (add phosphate) ADP and produce ATP. The pumping of hydrogen sons across the inner membrane creates higher concentration ions in the inner membrane than on the outside of the membrane. This chemiosmotic gradient causes the ions to flow back across the membrane where the concentration of ions is lower. ATP synthase lined in the matrix serve as a channel protein, helping the ions to move across the membrane. The chemiosmotic gradient powers the phosphorylation of ADP to ATP, which also occurs in the ATP synthase. After passing through the ETC, the oxygen, being the final hydrogen acceptor, combines with two electrons and two protons, forming a water molecule. Water is a by-product of cellular respiration and is excreted. MINI TEST 6-3 1. Which energy-releasing pathway yields the most ATF in each glucose molecule? 2. Briefly describe the two stages of aerobic respiration that follow glycolysis: (a) Krebs cycle (b) Electron transport chain Anaerobic Respiration Most cells carry out arrobic respiration when oxygen is present. Aerobic respiration is an efficient process that yields a lot of ATP. However, many organisms thrive in mud, marshes, animal gut, canned goods, sewage treatment pond, and deep oceans where oxygen is scarce. Organisms that can live without oxygen are called anaerobes. Cellular respiration that proceeds without the presence of oxygen is called anaerobic respiration. In the event that the oxygen supply becomes low, aerobic cells also perform fermentation and lactic acid fermentation anaerobic pathways. There are two common anaerobic pathways in these cells, alcoholic fermentation and lactic acid fermentation. In alcoholic fermentation, ethyl alcohol and carbon dioxide are produced by some cells using the pyruvate from glycolysis. Each pyruvate molecule is rearranged into acetaldehyde and carbon dioxide, which is eventually released. NADII gives up electrons to acetaldehyde to form ethanol Fermentation is widely used in the industry. Yeast, a fungus used in making bread. can undergo anaerobic respiration. Bakers aux sugar, flour, water, and yeast to form the bread dough. The dough rises due to the carbon dioxide and alcohol released by the yeast cells trapped in air bubbles. Beer and wine manufacturers, we yeast to ferment the sugars in wheat and grape juice, forming alcoholic beverages such as beer and wine. In some cells, glycolysis produces two pyruvates, two NADH molecules, and two ATP molecules. Pyruvate itself becomes the final acceptor of the electrons from the NADH that produces the final product: lactate. Oftentimes, this product is called lactic acid. Human skeletal muscles can carry out fermentation when the blood cannot supply the cells with adequate oxygen during strenuous activities. When lactic acid builds up in the muscles, fatigue, burning sensation, and cramps result. Lactic acid will continue to build up until there is adequate supply of oxygen. Lactic acid is then converted back into pyruvate in the liver. Muscles also restore normal functions. Have you ever wondered why milk or cream turns sour after some time? Bacterial cells that undergo fermentation are responsible in producing lactate that turns the milk sour. These bacteria are used in manufacturing yogurt and sour milk products. Fermentation pathways do not breakdown and utilize the glucose completely. ATP is no longer produced beyond the process of glycolysis. Thus, energy produced is just enough for some single-celled organisms, or the energy can only be used by multicellular organisms for a short period.

5th Grade Quest: Up in the Air Magazine Quiz

She went by the name of Belisa Crepusculario, not because she had been baptized with that name or given it by her mother, but because she herself had searched until she found the poetry of "beauty" and "twilight" and cloaked herself in it. She made her living selling words. She journeyed through the country from the high cold mountains to the burning coasts, stopping at fairs and in markets where she set up four poles covered by a canvas awning under which she took refuge from the sun and rain to minister to her customers. She did not have to peddle her merchandise because from having wandered far and near, everyone knew who she was. Some people waited for her from one year to the next, and when she appeared in the village with her bundle beneath her arm, they would form a line in front of her stall. Her prices were fair. For five centavos she delivered verses from memory, for seven she improved the quality of dreams, for nine she wrote love letters, for twelve she invented insults for irreconcilable enemies. She also sold stories, not fantasies but long, true stories she recited at one telling, never skipping a word. This is how she carried news from one town to another. People paid her to add a line or two: our son was born, so-and-so died, our children got married, the crops burned in the field. Wherever she went a small crowd gathered around to listen as she began to speak, and that was how they learned about each others' doings, about distant relatives, about what was going on in the civil war. To anyone who paid her fifty centavos in trade, she gave the gift of a secret word to drive away melancholy. It was not the same word for everyone, naturally, because that would have been collective dece it. Each person received his or her own word, with the assurance that no one else would use it that way in this universe or the Beyond. Belisa Crepusculario had been born into a family so poor they did not even have names to give their children. She came into the world and grew up in an inhospitable land where some years the rains became avalanches of water that bore everything away before them and others when not a drop fell from the sky and the sun swelled to fill the horizon and the world became a desert. Until she was twelve, Belisa had no occupation or virtue other than having withstood hunger and the exhaustion of centuries. During one interminable drought, it fell to her to bury four younger brothers and sisters, when she realized that her turn was next, she decided to set out across the 2 plains in the direction of the sea, in hopes that she might trick death along the way. The land was eroded, split with deep cracks, strewn with rocks, fossils of trees and thorny bushes, and skeletons of animals bleached by the sun. From time to time she ran into families who, like her, were heading south, following the mirage of water. Some had begun the march carrying their belongings on their back or in small carts, but they could barely move their own bones, and after a while they had to abandon their possessions. They dragged themselves along painfully, their skin turned to lizard hide and their eyes burned by the reverberating glare. Belisa greeted them with a wave as she passed, but she did not stop, because she had no strength to waste in acts of compassion. Many people fell by the wayside, but she was so stubborn that she survived to cross through that hell and at long last reach the first trickles of water, fine, almost invisible threads that fed spindly vegetation and farther down widened into small streams and marshes. Belisa Crepusculario saved her life and in the process accidentally discovered writing. In a village near the coast, the wind blew a page of newspaper at her feet. She picked up the brittle yellow paper and stood a long while looking at it, unable to determine its purpose, until curiosity overcame her shyness. She walked over to a man who was washing his horse in the muddy pool where she had quenched her thirst. "What is this?" she asked. "The sports page of the newspaper," the man replied, concealing his surprise at her ignorance. The answer astounded the girl, but she did not want to seem rude, so she merely inquired about the significance of the fly tracks scattered across the page. "Those are words, child. Here it says that Fulgencio Barba knocked out El Negro Tiznao in the third round." That was the day Belisa Crepusculario found out that words make their way in the world without a master, and that anyone with a little cleverness can appropriate them and do business with them. She made a quick assessment of her situation and concluded that aside from becoming a prostitute or working as a servant in the kitchens of the rich there were few occupations she was qualified for. It seemed to her that selling words would be an honorable alternative. From that moment on, she worked at that profession, and was never tempted by any other. At the beginning, she offered her merchandise unaware that words could be written outside of newspapers. When she learned otherwise, she calculated the infinite possibilities of her trade and with her savings paid a priest twenty pesos to teach her to read and write, with her three 3 remaining coins she bought a dictionary. She poured over it from A to Z and then threw it into the sea, because it was not her intention to defraud her customers with packaged words. One August morning several years later, Belisa Crepusculario was sitting in her tent in the middle of a plaza, surrounded by the uproar of market day, selling legal arguments to an old man who had been trying for sixteen years to get his pension. Suddenly she heard yelling and thudding hoofbeats. She looked up from her writing and saw, first, a cloud of dust, and then a band of horsemen come galloping into the plaza. They were the Colonel's men, sent under orders of El Mulato, a giant known throughout the land for the speed of his knife and his loyalty to his chief. Both the Colonel and El Mulato had spent their lives fighting in the civil war, and their names were ineradicably linked to devastation and calamity. The rebels swept into town like a stampeding herd, wrapped in noise, bathed in sweat, and leaving a hurricane of fear in their trail. Chickens took wing, dogs ran for their lives, women and children scurried out of sight, until the only living soul left in the market was Belisa Crepusculario. She had never seen El Mulato and was surprised to see him walking toward her. "I'm looking for you," he shouted, pointing his coiled whip at her, even before the words were out, two men rushed her -- knocking over her canopy and shattering her inkwell -- bound her hand and foot, and threw her like a sea bag across the rump of El Mulato's mount. Then they thundered off toward the hills. Hours later, just as Belisa Crepusculario was near death, her heart ground to sand by the pounding of the horse, they stopped, and four strong hands set her down. She tried to stand on her feet and hold her head high, but her strength failed her and she slumped to the ground, sinking into a confused dream. She awakened several hours later to the murmur of night in the camp, but before she had time to sort out the sounds, she opened her eyes and found herself staring into the impatient glare of El Mulato, kneeling beside her. "Well, woman, at last you've come to," he said. To speed her to her senses, he tipped his canteen and offered her a sip of liquor laced with gunpowder. She demanded to know the reason for such rough treatment, and El Mulato explained that the Colonel needed her services. He allowed her to splash water on her face, and then led her to the far end of the camp where the most feared man in all the land was lazing in a hammock strung between two trees. She could not see his face, because he lay in the deceptive shadow of the leaves and the indelible shadow of all his years as a bandit, but she imagined from the way his 4 gigantic aide addressed him with such humility that he must have a very menacing expression. She was surprised by the Colonel's voice, as soft and well-modulated as a professor's. "Are you the woman who sells words?" he asked. "At your service," she stammered, peering into the dark and trying to see him better. The Colonel stood up, and turned straight toward her. She saw dark skin and the eyes of a ferocious puma, and she knew immediately that she was standing before the loneliest man in the world. "I want to be President," he announced. The Colonel was weary of riding across that godforsaken land, waging useless wars and suffering defeats that no subterfuge could transform into victories. For years he had been sleeping in the open air, bitten by mosquitoes, eating iguanas and snake soup, but those minor inconveniences were not why he wanted to change his destiny. What truly troubled him was the terror he saw in people's eyes. He longed to ride into a town beneath a triumphal arch with bright flags and flowers everywhere, he wanted to be cheered, and be given newly laid eggs and freshly baked bread. Men fled at the sight of him, children trembled, and women miscarried from fright, he had had enough, and so he had decided to become President. El Mulato had suggested that they ride to the capital, gallop up to the Palace, and take over the government, the way they had taken so many other things without anyone's permission. The Colonel, however, did not want to be just another tyrant, there had been enough of those before him and, besides, if he did that, he would never win people's hearts. It was his aspiration to win the popular vote in the December elections. "To do that, I have to talk like a candidate. Can you sell me the words for a speech?" the Colonel asked Belisa Crepusculario. She had accepted many assignments, but none like this. She did not dare refuse, fearing that El Mulato would shoot her between the eyes, or worse still, that the Colonel would burst into tears. There was more to it than that, however, she felt the urge to help him because she felt a throbbing warmth beneath her skin, a powerful desire to touch that man, to fondle him, to clasp him in her arms. All night and a good part of the following day, Belisa Crepusculario searched her repertory for words adequate for a presidential speech, closely watched by El Mulato, who could not take his eyes from her firm wanderer's legs and virginal breasts. She discarded harsh, cold words, words 5 that were too flowery, words worn from abuse, words that offered improbable promises, untruthful and confusing words, until all she had left were words sure to touch the minds of men and women's intuition. Calling upon the knowledge she had purchased from the priest for twenty pesos, she wrote the speech on a sheet of paper and then signaled El Mulato to untie the rope that bound her ankles to a tree. He led her once more to the Colonel, and again she felt the throbbing anxiety that had seized her when she first saw him. She handed him the paper and waited while he looked at it, holding it gingerly between thumbs and fingertips. "What the shit does this say," he asked finally. "Don't you know how to read?" "War's what I know," he replied. She read the speech aloud. She read it three times, so her client could engrave it on his memory. When she finished, she saw the emotion in the faces of the soldiers who had gathered round to listen, and saw that the Colonel's eyes glittered with enthusiasm, convinced that with those words the presidential chair would be his. "If after they've heard it three times, the boys are still standing there with their mouths hanging open, it must mean the thing's damn good, Colonel" was El Mulato's approval. "All right, woman. How much do I owe you?" the leader asked. "One peso, Colonel." "That's not much," he said, opening the pouch he wore at his belt, heavy with proceeds from the last foray. "The peso entitles you to a bonus. I'm going to give you two secret words," said Belisa Crepusculario. "What for?" She explained that for every fifty centavos a client paid, she gave him the gift of a word for his exclusive use. The Colonel shrugged. He had no interest at all in her offer, but he did not want to be impolite to someone who had served him so well. She walked slowly to the leather stool where he was sitting, and bent down to give him her gift. The man smelled the scent of a mountain cat issuing from the woman, a fiery heat radiating from her hips, he heard the terrible whisper of her hair, and a breath of sweetmint murmured into his ear the two secret words that were his alone. "They are yours, Colonel," she said as she stepped back. "You may use them as much as you 6 please." El Mulato accompanied Belisa to the roadside, his eyes as entreating as a stray dog's, but when he reached out to touch her, he was stopped by an avalanche of words he had never heard before; believing them to be an irrevocable curse, the flame of his desire was extinguished. During the months of September, October, and November the Colonel delivered his speech so many times that had it not been crafted from glowing and durable words it would have turned to ash as he spoke. He travelled up and down and across the country, riding into cities with a triumphal air, stopping in even the most forgotten villages where only the dump heap betrayed a human presence, to convince his fellow citizens to vote for him. While he spoke from a platform erected in the middle of the plaza, El Mulato and his men handed out sweets and painted his name on all the walls in gold frost. No one paid the least attention to those advertising ploys; they were dazzled by the clarity of the Colonel's proposals and the poetic lucidity of his arguments, infected by his powerful wish to right the wrongs of history, happy for the first time in their lives. When the Candidate had finished his speech, his soldiers would fire their pistols into the air and set off firecrackers, and when finally they rode off, they left behind a wake of hope that lingered for days on the air, like the splendid memory of a comet's tail. Soon the Colonel was the favorite. No one had ever witnessed such a phenomenon: a man who surfaced from the civil war, covered with scars and speaking like a professor, a man whose fame spread to every corner of the land and captured the nation's heart. The press focused their attention on him. Newspapermen came from far away to interview him and repeat his phrases, and the number of his followers and enemies continued to grow. "We're doing great, Colonel," said El Mulato, after twelve successful weeks of campaigning. But the Candidate did not hear. He was repeating his secret words, as he did more and more obsessively. He said them when he was mellow with nostalgia; he murmured them in his sleep; he carried them with him on horseback; he thought them before delivering his famous speech; and he caught himself savoring them in his leisure time. And every time he thought of those two words, he thought of Belisa Crepusculario, and his senses were inflamed with the memory of her feral scent, her fiery heat, the whisper of her hair, and her sweetmint breath in his ear, until he began to go around like a sleepwalker, and his men realized that he might die before he ever sat in the presidential chair. "What's got hold of you, Colonel," El Mulato asked so often that finally one day his chief broke 7 down and told him the source of his befuddlement: those two words that were buried like two daggers in his gut. "Tell me what they are and maybe they'll lose their magic," his faithful aide suggested. "I can't tell them, they're for me alone," the Colonel replied. Saddened by watching his chief decline like a man with a death sentence on his head, El Mulato slung his rifle over his shoulder and set out to find Belisa Crepusculario. He followed her trail through all that vast country, until he found her in a village in the far south, sitting under her tent reciting her rosary of news. He planted himself, spraddle-legged, before her, weapon in hand. "You! You're coming with me," he ordered. She had been waiting. She picked up her inkwell, folded the canvas of her small stall, arranged her shawl around her shoulders, and without a word took her place behind El Mulato's saddle. They did not exchange so much as a word in all the trip; El Mulato's desire for her had turned into rage, and only his fear of her tongue prevented his cutting her to shreds with his whip. Nor was he inclined to tell her that the Colonel was in a fog, and that a spell whispered into his ear had done what years of battle had not been able to do. Three days later they arrived at the encampment, and immediately, in view of all the troops, El Mulato led his prisoner before the Candidate. "I brought this witch here so you can give her back her words, Colonel," El Mulato said, pointing the barrel of his rifle at the woman's head. "And then she can give you back your manhood." The Colonel and Belisa Crepusculario stared at each other, measuring one another from a distance. The men knew then that their leader would never undo the witchcraft of those accursed words, because the whole world could see the voracious-puma eyes soften as the woman walked to him and took his hand in hers. Copyright © 1989 by Isabel Allende From The Stories of Eva Luna, Translated by Margaret Sayers Peden

A trip to Rio Julia and her family traveled from New York to visit Rio de Janeiro in Brazil. Julia's cousin Gabriela lived there. They all went to the opening night of the Olympics. The stadium was very crowded. It made Julia nervous. Everyone screamed and cheered. Their seats were far away. Julia could barely see. The music was loud. It made her head hurt. Julia had been happy to visit Rio. Now she just wanted to go home. Gabriela woke Julia up the next morning. "There's another Olympic event today!" she said. Julia did not want to go, but she smiled and got ready. The families walked through shady streets. Gabriela's street ended at a beach. Julia stopped and stared. Tall buildings stood along the beach. Olympic racing boats floated on the water. There was a big mountain behind them. "That's Sugarloaf Mountain," Gabriela said. It was beautiful. The next day, Julia ran to Gabriela's room. "We're going up Sugarloaf Mountain!" she said. They rode a cable car. It hung high above the city. Julia stared out the window. White buildings stood above the green jungle. They went to a big market. Julia tasted a mango. It was not like the mangoes at home. It was juicy and sweet! They went to an Olympic swimming race. Gabriela's brother, Chaz, cheered, "Go Brazil!" "Brazil is not even in this event!" Gabriela said. "Oh." Chaz said. He smiled at Julia. "Go Americа!" It was Julia's last day in Rio. They went to Grandma and Grandpa's. Julia remembered the house. She had visited when she was five. Grandpa had taught her to dance. It felt like home. Grandma made a spicy bean stew. After lunch, they went to an Olympic football game. "The crowd is very noisy," Julia said. "I'm scared." "Don't worry," Grandpa said. "Football fans are one big family." At the stadium, the crowd seemed even louder. Julia held Grandpa's hand. Brazil got the ball. Everyone cheered. Julia got caught up in the game. She cheered, too. Then, Brazil scored a goal. The crowd cheered. Grandpa lifted Julia in the air. They sang a song with the crowd to celebrate.

New Planet, New School I had a lot of friends back in my old school, on my old planet. When the school year ended, though, my family moved across the galaxy to Planet Zox. Planet Zox has species from so many different planets, just walking down the street can be an adventure. So can going to the grocery store. Actually, I sort of liked my new planet until it was time to start school. "I won't fit in," I complained to my parents that first morning. "Nobody there will be like me." "They don't have to be like you in order to like you," Mom said. It took me a minute to sort out that sentence. Once I got to school, I kept my eye out for other humans. I spotted a few in the halls, but the only one in my class is Swiss Pumpernickel. When I walked in that first day, some of the students started to tease him. "Way to go, Pumpernickel. Looks like you finally got yourself a girlfriend," they said. Swiss Pumpernickel turned red, then glared at me-as if it were my fault for being human! After that, nobody talked to me all morning. I looked for some humans to sit with at lunch, but they were all sitting with other species_. I only found one table with any empty chairs. There, alone, sat one of my classmates, Hululialana. She was so wrapped up in her tentacles, I couldn't find her face. I approached with caution and spoke with great care. "Hello, Hululialana," I said. Slowly, several arms lifted. Then one arm unwound itself, floated toward me through the air, and pulled out the closest chair. I took a seat. "Thank you," I said. We looked at each other, then away. She began to wrap herself up again. "How's your first day going?" I quickly asked. Hululialana shrugged-I think. "I wish I were still at my old school," she said. "Me, too," I said. She looked shocked, and I laughed. "I mean, I wish I were still at my old school," I explained. "At least you're not the only human," Hululialana said. "I'm the only Hulu." I thought for a moment. "That makes you special," I said. "That makes me a freak," she said. "Well, let's be freaks together," I suggested. Then, for the first time, Hululialana smiled. From that day forward, school on Planet Zox has been pretty fun.

Girl: Wow, look at that cat! Cindy: Yes, it is a beautiful cat. Its tail is very long. Girl: That dog has a short tail. Its tail is shorter than the cat's tail. Cindy: Yes, it has a very short tail. Girl: Oh, a giraffe! Its neck is very long. Cindy: Yes, that giraffe's neck is very long. It's longer than the swan's neck. Girl: I like the giraffe's long neck. It can see very far in the air. Cindy: The giraffe can eat leaves from high up in the trees!

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