2 May 2009 - Arrival of the guests from Bulgaria
3 May 2009 - Arrival of the guests from Slovenia and Turkey; check-in at Albergaria S. Lourenço, Porto Alto.
4 May 2009
9.00 – Arrival of the guests from Italy and Spain; check-in at Albergaria S. Lourenço, Porto Alto.
10.00 – Arrival at the school – greeting newcomers with the Mayor and the Headmistress (with some surprises…).
11.00 – Meeting and visit to Kinder garden and primary school. ¹
12.30 – Lunch of the whole group in Restaurante “Caçador” (price person – 7,5€)14.30 – Work meeting ¹ with pupils from different classes (7º C, 8º A, 9º B, 9º E) participating the project.
18.00 – Free time. If you want we can walk around Samora Correia, visit to Fonte dos Escudeiros, Palácio do Infantado, Igreja Matriz.
20.00 – Dinner of the work team with the foreign guests in the Restaurante “Os Grelhados” (price person – 12€).
5 May 2009
09.00 – Visit to Arts class, Teacher Ana Solange (8ºA, room 3)
09.30 – Visit to Chemistry class, Teacher Vanda Candeias (7ºA, room 1)
10.00 – Visit to Mathematics class, Teacher Teresa Pinto (5ºE, room 14)
10.30 – Visit to Project class, Teacher José Lima (6ºD, room 6)
11.00 – Visit to Music class, Teacher Vanda Gonçalves (7ºE, room 10)
11.30 – Visit to Gymnastic class, Teacher Filipe Dias (7ºB)
11.30 – Visit to Gymnastic class, Teacher Alberto Correia (9ºD)
12.30 - Lunch of the whole group in Restaurante “Nova Era” (price person – 6,5€)
14.30/17.00 – Visit by bus to “Companhia das Lezírias”², www.cl.pt
17.00 – Free time
20.00 - Dinner of the work team with the foreign guests in the Restaurante “Chico do Porto”. (price person - 13 €)
6 May 2009
7.30 – Bus to Lisbon.
9.00 – Visit to Palácio Nacional de Queluz ², (www.ippar.pt/monumentos/palacio_queluz.html)
11.00 – Escola Portuguesa de Arte Equestre, (http://cavalonet.com/epae/)
12.30 – Lunch (there are restaurants around so each one chooses where to eat) – Praça do Império.
14.00 – Museu do Oriente ²(price person - 2 €), (http://www.museudooriente.pt/)
18.00 – Arrival to Porto Alto – free time
20.00 - Dinner of the work team with the foreign guests in the Restaurante “Coudelaria”, Companhia das Lezírias. This dinner is on the Portuguese
team. ³ (http://www.acoudelaria.com/)
7 May 2009
Final meeting and leaving of the guests.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Inter-cool-tural stories- Turkey
NASRETTİN HOCAHe was born in the village of Hortu of Sivrihisar and died in 1284 in Aksehir, a province of Konya, where his tomb is. His father was the imam(religious leader) of the village. Nasr-ed-Din, or "Victory of the Faith", was the name given by his parents to the author of the tales, and Hodja, meaning "Master" or "Teacher" is the honorific title which he subsequently acquired. It is obvious that Hodja was a witty man with sense of humor and he was a good conversationalist. Yet, based on most of the stories it is wrong to assume that everything he said was humorous. Over the years, the number of Nasreddin Hodja stories increased significantly since he was used as the main character in the new stories about other people. Among these, there are some that are easily recognized as not authentic Nasreddin Hodja stories. We can, therefore, say that Hodja and his stories were created by the natives of Anatolia in the 13th century, and the creation has lasted for centuries. Today, these stories belong to all Turkish people. Every year, Nasreddin Hodja Festivals are organized both in Sivrihisar; which is his birthplace; and in Aksehir where his tomb is. After reading some of the stories of Hodja, we think that you, too, will believe that Hodja will be living for generations to come...Just as Hodja did, may be you, too, will answer when asked "What do they do with the old full moons?", "They cut them up into small pieces and make the stars!.."
EAT MY FUR COAT EAT
The Hodja was invited out to dinner. He went in his old clothes and nobody was interested in him. When he found a few minutes to spare, he rushed home and collected his fur coat. When he came back, he was treated with great respect. Everybody wanted to speak to him. When they sat down for dinner he said: “Eat, fur coat, eat!” And he explained to the curious people: “If this regard is for my coat, it must eat also.”
WHAT IF IT BECOMES LEAVENED!
Nasreddin Hodja puts some food in his saddle – bag and sets out. At noon, he sits under a tree by Lake Akşehir. He eats some bread, olives and a bowl of yogurt merrily in the shadow. While he is shaking the bowl of yogurt, someone sees him and asks:What are you doing, Hodja? I’m leavening the lake. My God! Can the lake be leavened? Is that possible? I also know that it can’t, but what if it becomes leavened!
THEN, WHERE IS THE CAT?
A few times Hodja brought home some meat but never got a chance to eat it. His wife either ate it herself or gave it to her friends, and each time Hodja asked for some meat she said,"The cat stole it. I ran after it but I couldn't catch it."One day when his wife again told him that the cat had eaten the 2 kilos of meat he had brought, Hodja grabbed the cat and weighed it. It weighed 2 kilos. Hodja then turned to his wife and said,"If this is the cat then where is the meat? But if this is the meat, then where is the cat?"
THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR YOUR INTERESTWE HOPE YOU ENJOYED
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Inter- cool- tural stories Italy3
THE LAST CACANIZZOLO
Nicetta, a ten years old girl, usually brought some pigs near the river so that they could “strufolare”(rub their snout against the grass) looking for something to eat, in this way she helped her family, a farmers family of the thirties. She was doing this even during that hot August afternoon. She was not alone because Peppe, her cousin, was in the field looking after some sheep and uncle Gioanne was cutting down some trees in order to have some poles for the vines and some wood to burn during the winter.
It was a big herd of swine, there was the sow, all her “cioncarini”(the youngest pigs), the “salvatorelli”(pigs who are about one month old) and the “salvatori” (pigs who are about three months old), from more than a brood and finally there was the last one of the “cacanizzoli”, that is the last born, the smallest, not for age but for size, the one who was the smallest either because the “matrana”( the sow who feeds all the little pigs) didn’t have enough teats or because his brothers, who were born before him and who were more expert than him, left for him the teat with less milk. He could survive the first difficult days and now, even if very small, he was part of the herd of swine. They were ugly, nearly disgusting, of a strange breed with dark skin, but if you could peer into their eyes, they were flashing and gentle.
During that afternoon there was a storm on the mountain but there it didn’t rain at all , even if the sky became dark and the swallows flew down in sight of a possible storm that could drive all the insects out. The pigs were scratching about and “sgaucciavano”(were searching something moving the earth) along the large shingle of the river near the dike where the water was diverted towards the miller and it let the millstones turn. There the river made a waterfall of ten metres, impressive and beautiful to see, so beautiful that some people used to come from the town to see it, when there was a lot of water.
A pouring noise was getting closer and suddenly the flood appears in front of Nicetta.
Water took some time to fill the bed of the river because first it filled the holes made by farmers coming by carts to take some gravel at the river: the little girl could step back but the pigs, more placid than her, were carried away one after the other by the strong current, they arrived at the waterfall and flew disorderly in a spectacular way on the water, they fell down again in the whirling whirlpool and were carried away again. Peppe and Gioanne had immediately rushed but in vain.
Everybody ran along the banks to follow the animals’ destiny, Nicetta, with a frightened look, saw the “cacanizzolo” disappearing among the cloudy waters. At last the weave weakened and the feverish rescue operations started . Slowly the pigs got up to the bank of the river, pushed by some poles and attracted by the cries and by the noise of the rattling iron “caldarole” (buckets). All of them except one: the “cacanizzolo”.
They went as far as more than half a kilometre from the waterfall towards San Lorenzo, but there was no trace of the “cacanizzolo” and, as it was getting dark, they reluctantly interrupted their search and went back home drenched to the skin, tired and sad.
The pigsty had remained opened: who was there crouched in a corner, half-covered by some straw? The “cacanizzolo”!
Pigs can’t talk or, if they can, humans don’t understand them, so no one will ever know how he could save himself and how he could found his way home by himself.
Nicetta felt her hearth ached by the excitement and happiness.
In the evening, at dinner, all of them were very happy.
The pigsty was crowded by dreams of flying and of finned animals and probably someone even thought about shooting a short film.
It was a big herd of swine, there was the sow, all her “cioncarini”(the youngest pigs), the “salvatorelli”(pigs who are about one month old) and the “salvatori” (pigs who are about three months old), from more than a brood and finally there was the last one of the “cacanizzoli”, that is the last born, the smallest, not for age but for size, the one who was the smallest either because the “matrana”( the sow who feeds all the little pigs) didn’t have enough teats or because his brothers, who were born before him and who were more expert than him, left for him the teat with less milk. He could survive the first difficult days and now, even if very small, he was part of the herd of swine. They were ugly, nearly disgusting, of a strange breed with dark skin, but if you could peer into their eyes, they were flashing and gentle.
During that afternoon there was a storm on the mountain but there it didn’t rain at all , even if the sky became dark and the swallows flew down in sight of a possible storm that could drive all the insects out. The pigs were scratching about and “sgaucciavano”(were searching something moving the earth) along the large shingle of the river near the dike where the water was diverted towards the miller and it let the millstones turn. There the river made a waterfall of ten metres, impressive and beautiful to see, so beautiful that some people used to come from the town to see it, when there was a lot of water.
A pouring noise was getting closer and suddenly the flood appears in front of Nicetta.
Water took some time to fill the bed of the river because first it filled the holes made by farmers coming by carts to take some gravel at the river: the little girl could step back but the pigs, more placid than her, were carried away one after the other by the strong current, they arrived at the waterfall and flew disorderly in a spectacular way on the water, they fell down again in the whirling whirlpool and were carried away again. Peppe and Gioanne had immediately rushed but in vain.
Everybody ran along the banks to follow the animals’ destiny, Nicetta, with a frightened look, saw the “cacanizzolo” disappearing among the cloudy waters. At last the weave weakened and the feverish rescue operations started . Slowly the pigs got up to the bank of the river, pushed by some poles and attracted by the cries and by the noise of the rattling iron “caldarole” (buckets). All of them except one: the “cacanizzolo”.
They went as far as more than half a kilometre from the waterfall towards San Lorenzo, but there was no trace of the “cacanizzolo” and, as it was getting dark, they reluctantly interrupted their search and went back home drenched to the skin, tired and sad.
The pigsty had remained opened: who was there crouched in a corner, half-covered by some straw? The “cacanizzolo”!
Pigs can’t talk or, if they can, humans don’t understand them, so no one will ever know how he could save himself and how he could found his way home by himself.
Nicetta felt her hearth ached by the excitement and happiness.
In the evening, at dinner, all of them were very happy.
The pigsty was crowded by dreams of flying and of finned animals and probably someone even thought about shooting a short film.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Inter- cool- tural stories Spain
We have choosen three legends, each legend has been studied by different classes:
• The witch of the cathedral
• The witch of the cathedral
. The lioness
• Saint Narcissus and the flies
THE LIONESS
• Saint Narcissus and the flies
THE LIONESS
There is a popular legend: If you go to Girona you have to kiss the lioness' bottom. It is an easy way to express a wish to come back to the town, or stay there forever or to become a citizen. It goes without saying that someone is not considered a good Girona inhabitant if they haven't completed the ritual. The final argument: this is the only place in the world where you can kiss a lioness' bottom without getting into trouble.
THE WITCH OF THE CATHEDRAL
THE WITCH OF THE CATHEDRAL
A witch threw stones at people who attended the numerous processions which took place in Girona. On the day of Corpus Christi when she was about to throw a stone a voice thundered out across the town saying: “Throw stones, throw stones and stone you will become!”. And to this very day she can be seen as a gargoyle on the Cathedral.
SAINT NARCISSUS AND THE FLIES
During the siege of 1285, a group of French soldiers managed to penetrate the church of Sant Feliu. A swarm of big flies came from the tomb of the Patron Saint of Girona causing death to the French troops and their horses. Faced by this unexpected miraculous situation the French troops started to retreat. Since then, every time Girona was involved in a new conflict, the intervention of Saint Narcissus and his flies was assured.
WE ARE LOOKING FORWARD TO YOUR VISIT TO GIRONA… YOU’LL BE ABLE TO LIVE THESE LEGENDS “in situ”!!!
During the siege of 1285, a group of French soldiers managed to penetrate the church of Sant Feliu. A swarm of big flies came from the tomb of the Patron Saint of Girona causing death to the French troops and their horses. Faced by this unexpected miraculous situation the French troops started to retreat. Since then, every time Girona was involved in a new conflict, the intervention of Saint Narcissus and his flies was assured.
WE ARE LOOKING FORWARD TO YOUR VISIT TO GIRONA… YOU’LL BE ABLE TO LIVE THESE LEGENDS “in situ”!!!
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Inter- cool- tural stories Slovenia2
WATER SPRITE
At first he lived in a stinky pond in a village. From an unknown reason he moved to mount Uršlja Gora. How he succeeded we unfortunately don't know…
His pond was exactly there where there is a church today, consecrated to St. Ursula. When St. Ursula came to Mount Uršlja Gora she really liked it there, so she called Water Sprite and asked him to move his lake. Water Sprite was bored on Mount Uršlja Gora because he didn't meet anyone but shepherds all year long, and they always sang the same songs which he already knew by heart. He liked St. Ursula's idea. When he promised her to move the lake and himself to another hill, he, as a typical man, didn't think of how easy it is to promise something to a woman and how hard to fulfil it. He didn't want to carry the water on his head as a woman. Not at all! At last he was the ruler of all the waters. He kept thinking and he got an idea. At a nearby farmer, who didn't like the idea at first, he borrowed two oxen, Suri and Muri, which helped him carry the water night after night to the other hill until the pond was empty. When he finished and moved away himself, he well repaid the farmer. The oxen had a bag full of gold on each of their horns. Don't ever say that it's not worth helping Water Sprite.
And now back to the first residence of Water Sprite, the stinky pond.
A shepherd tended his flock by that pond every day. He didn't know what to do, so he sat down by the pond, threw pebbles and tried to make them leap to the other shore. When he grew weary of this, he started throwing bigger stones into the middle of the pond. He admired the circles that occured on the water. Once he threw a very big stone. Big circles occured and they didn't disappear. They got bigger and bigger as if bigger and bigger stones were falling into the water.The shepherd thought there was a storm on the bottom of the pond. A huge storm! Water Sprite!!!Water Sprite raged: »Who has knocked the spoon out of my son's hands?« The shepherd ready-wittedly pointed to a poor animal: “It was this sheep.”
Water Sprite grabbed the sheep and dragged it into the pond.
That’s how we know Water Sprite really exists.
At first he lived in a stinky pond in a village. From an unknown reason he moved to mount Uršlja Gora. How he succeeded we unfortunately don't know…
His pond was exactly there where there is a church today, consecrated to St. Ursula. When St. Ursula came to Mount Uršlja Gora she really liked it there, so she called Water Sprite and asked him to move his lake. Water Sprite was bored on Mount Uršlja Gora because he didn't meet anyone but shepherds all year long, and they always sang the same songs which he already knew by heart. He liked St. Ursula's idea. When he promised her to move the lake and himself to another hill, he, as a typical man, didn't think of how easy it is to promise something to a woman and how hard to fulfil it. He didn't want to carry the water on his head as a woman. Not at all! At last he was the ruler of all the waters. He kept thinking and he got an idea. At a nearby farmer, who didn't like the idea at first, he borrowed two oxen, Suri and Muri, which helped him carry the water night after night to the other hill until the pond was empty. When he finished and moved away himself, he well repaid the farmer. The oxen had a bag full of gold on each of their horns. Don't ever say that it's not worth helping Water Sprite.
And now back to the first residence of Water Sprite, the stinky pond.
A shepherd tended his flock by that pond every day. He didn't know what to do, so he sat down by the pond, threw pebbles and tried to make them leap to the other shore. When he grew weary of this, he started throwing bigger stones into the middle of the pond. He admired the circles that occured on the water. Once he threw a very big stone. Big circles occured and they didn't disappear. They got bigger and bigger as if bigger and bigger stones were falling into the water.The shepherd thought there was a storm on the bottom of the pond. A huge storm! Water Sprite!!!Water Sprite raged: »Who has knocked the spoon out of my son's hands?« The shepherd ready-wittedly pointed to a poor animal: “It was this sheep.”
Water Sprite grabbed the sheep and dragged it into the pond.
That’s how we know Water Sprite really exists.
Inter- cool- tural stories Slovenia
THE STORY ABOUT SLOVENJ GRADEC
It`s not about the real rising of the town but it stirs people`s imagination.
Once upon a time, when poeople lived together in concord and harmony, there was a big lake between Plešivec and the hill-side of western Pohorje. On one side of the wide water there was a castle and in the castle “Grad” lived a count, who had a very beautiful daughter. On the other side of the bank in a manor-house on Gradišče lived another count and his young and handsome son. By boat they often visited each other, the youngsters also in secret. One day when the contess was travelling again by boat across the water to embrance her sweet-heart, suddenly in the middle of the lake a strong north-east wind caught her, which raised high waves and turned over her boat. The young daughter drowned. The count wanted to find his daughter’s dead body at any price. They were searching for her day and night continuously for 14 days, however without success. At one point between Rahtel and the hill-side of Kremžarica the count ordered to dig through the hill and the water flew away. On the bottom of the dry lake in the middle of the arising valley he found in the mud the body of the young girl. In endless grief he ordered to build the church on the place where she drowned. Later, the town Slovenj Gradec arose around the church .
It`s not about the real rising of the town but it stirs people`s imagination.
Once upon a time, when poeople lived together in concord and harmony, there was a big lake between Plešivec and the hill-side of western Pohorje. On one side of the wide water there was a castle and in the castle “Grad” lived a count, who had a very beautiful daughter. On the other side of the bank in a manor-house on Gradišče lived another count and his young and handsome son. By boat they often visited each other, the youngsters also in secret. One day when the contess was travelling again by boat across the water to embrance her sweet-heart, suddenly in the middle of the lake a strong north-east wind caught her, which raised high waves and turned over her boat. The young daughter drowned. The count wanted to find his daughter’s dead body at any price. They were searching for her day and night continuously for 14 days, however without success. At one point between Rahtel and the hill-side of Kremžarica the count ordered to dig through the hill and the water flew away. On the bottom of the dry lake in the middle of the arising valley he found in the mud the body of the young girl. In endless grief he ordered to build the church on the place where she drowned. Later, the town Slovenj Gradec arose around the church .
Monday, March 23, 2009
Inter- cool- tural stories Portugal
Legend of the Lady of Alcamé
In the place where today is built the chapel of the Lady of Alcamé, lived some cattle shepherds in straw tents. One day a teeny snake appeared there and one of them took off the milk of the cows and gave it to the snake. Then he started to call the snake whistling. He whistled and the snake came and he gave it milk. This happened during much time.
One day, the shepherd went to other lands where he lived for a long time. Years went by and he came back to see the place where the cattle grazed, and he remembered the snake. He decided to whistle and it appeared. But when it appeared, it has become a wild and very big snake and it started creeping around him.
As he hasn’t got any milk to give it the snake attacked him.
Very frightened he screamed at the top of his voice:
- “Our Lady, help me”.
Then Our Lady appeared, and threw a mace to the mouth of the snake and She put Her feet on the snake’s head. The snake stopped and didn’t attack the man anymore, so Our Lady saved him.
To pay homage to Our Lady who saved the man, a chapel was built in the middle of the plains near river Tejo. It was called Lady of Alcamé Chapel. Every year a pilgrimage and a procession take place from the chapel to Samora Correia.
In the place where today is built the chapel of the Lady of Alcamé, lived some cattle shepherds in straw tents. One day a teeny snake appeared there and one of them took off the milk of the cows and gave it to the snake. Then he started to call the snake whistling. He whistled and the snake came and he gave it milk. This happened during much time.
One day, the shepherd went to other lands where he lived for a long time. Years went by and he came back to see the place where the cattle grazed, and he remembered the snake. He decided to whistle and it appeared. But when it appeared, it has become a wild and very big snake and it started creeping around him.
As he hasn’t got any milk to give it the snake attacked him.
Very frightened he screamed at the top of his voice:
- “Our Lady, help me”.
Then Our Lady appeared, and threw a mace to the mouth of the snake and She put Her feet on the snake’s head. The snake stopped and didn’t attack the man anymore, so Our Lady saved him.
To pay homage to Our Lady who saved the man, a chapel was built in the middle of the plains near river Tejo. It was called Lady of Alcamé Chapel. Every year a pilgrimage and a procession take place from the chapel to Samora Correia.
LEGEND OF THE SOUP OF STONE
One friar walked begging some food as he was very hungry. Then he arrived at the door of a farmer, who didn’t want to give him any food. The friar was so hungry that he said with a very weak voice,” As you don’t give me any food I’m going to make a broth of stone”.
He picked up a stone from the soil, cleaned it very well and looked at it to see if it was good to make a broth. The people of the house began laughing because of this strange attitude of the friar. “Then haven’t you ever eaten a rock broth? I only can tell you that it is a good meal”, the friar said. Laughing the people of the house replied: “I want to see it”! These were the words the friar wanted to hear. After having washed the rock, he asked: “Can you lend me a pot?”
They gave him an adobe pot. He filled it with water and put down the stone inside it. “Now, if you let me to put the pan near the fire… “ They said so. As soon as the water started boiling, he said very quietly:
“With a little bit of grease, the broth would be a beauty”!
They gave him a piece of grease. The broth boiled, boiled, boiled… and everybody was astonished with what they were watching. The friar, tasted the broth and said: “Oh! It’s a little bit insipid! With a lump of salt it would be wonderful!”
So they gave him the salt. He flavoured the broth, proved it and declared: “Now, with some cabbage the broth would be eaten by the angels!”
The owner of the house went to the kitchen- garden and brought two tender cabbages.
The friar washed them and cut them to pieces and put them inside the pan.
When the cabbages were already boiled said the friar: “A bit of sausage would give it a delicious flavour!…”
They brought him a piece of it and he put it inside the pan. While it boiled, he took off of his saddlebag bread and prepared himself to eat calm and quietly….
The broth smelled so good that he ate it licking his lips! He poured out the pan but the stone remained at the bottom of the pan! The people of the house, who were staring at him asked: “Oh, Mr. Friar what about the stone?”
The friar answered: “I’ll wash it and take it with me for another time.”
And so he ate where nobody wanted to give him any food!
He picked up a stone from the soil, cleaned it very well and looked at it to see if it was good to make a broth. The people of the house began laughing because of this strange attitude of the friar. “Then haven’t you ever eaten a rock broth? I only can tell you that it is a good meal”, the friar said. Laughing the people of the house replied: “I want to see it”! These were the words the friar wanted to hear. After having washed the rock, he asked: “Can you lend me a pot?”
They gave him an adobe pot. He filled it with water and put down the stone inside it. “Now, if you let me to put the pan near the fire… “ They said so. As soon as the water started boiling, he said very quietly:
“With a little bit of grease, the broth would be a beauty”!
They gave him a piece of grease. The broth boiled, boiled, boiled… and everybody was astonished with what they were watching. The friar, tasted the broth and said: “Oh! It’s a little bit insipid! With a lump of salt it would be wonderful!”
So they gave him the salt. He flavoured the broth, proved it and declared: “Now, with some cabbage the broth would be eaten by the angels!”
The owner of the house went to the kitchen- garden and brought two tender cabbages.
The friar washed them and cut them to pieces and put them inside the pan.
When the cabbages were already boiled said the friar: “A bit of sausage would give it a delicious flavour!…”
They brought him a piece of it and he put it inside the pan. While it boiled, he took off of his saddlebag bread and prepared himself to eat calm and quietly….
The broth smelled so good that he ate it licking his lips! He poured out the pan but the stone remained at the bottom of the pan! The people of the house, who were staring at him asked: “Oh, Mr. Friar what about the stone?”
The friar answered: “I’ll wash it and take it with me for another time.”
And so he ate where nobody wanted to give him any food!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)