tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-190029292024-03-08T04:03:52.949+00:00message in a bottlerddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.comBlogger36125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1135123585466242392005-12-20T23:12:00.000+00:002005-12-21T00:10:01.040+00:00Anchors Aweigh<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;"><strong>CONGRATULATIONS!</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;"><strong>A JOB WELL DONE!</strong></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#006600;"><strong></strong></span></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#006600;"><strong>Our journey into cyberspace is about to end. Before you embark on the next leg of your training, I would like to say that it has, indeed, been a pleasure meeting and working with you. I hope you enjoyed the tasks and learned something from each of them. I wish you fair winds and smooth sailing now and always . . .</strong></span><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/1600/anchor.gif"><strong><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 178px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 177px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" height="205" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/320/anchor.gif" width="208" border="0" /></strong></a><strong><br /></strong></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>"Until we meet once more,</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong>Here's wishing you a happy voyage home."</strong></span></div><div align="center"><span style="color:#cc0000;"><strong><span style="font-size:78%;">from the song <em>Anchors Aweigh</em> by George D. Lottman</span> </strong></span></div>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1134853363491883972005-12-17T20:38:00.000+00:002005-12-17T21:05:15.816+00:00Another success!<div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;">Thank you for sharing such wonderful stories. I was truly spellbound!</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><p><span style="color:#006600;"></span></p></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#006600;">Writing is a form of communication which transends boundaries. It is not only for the "here and now", but also can become a part of the future. It is not only a matter of grammar and vocabulary, but also introspection and reflection. It is that bit of "the author" that lingers in our memory, or perhaps even cyberspace . . . </span></strong></div>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1134851300489794822005-12-17T20:21:00.000+00:002005-12-17T20:28:20.490+00:00The Legend of Valongo and Susao<strong><span style="color:#000099;">Mr. Moura and Mr. Martins recount:</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">Once there was a rich Jewish man called Samuel. His daughter, Susana, wanted to marry a Moor called Domus. They ran away to an uninhabited valley and gave birth to a new village named "Susao" in honor of Susana. Since that time that beautiful valley became known as "Valongo".</span></strong>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1134850848740698642005-12-17T20:13:00.000+00:002005-12-17T20:31:44.486+00:00The Legend of the Headless of Montemor-o-Velho<strong><span style="color:#000099;">Mr. Martinho and Mr. Gregorio remember:</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></strong><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">In Montemor-o-Velho during the Moorish invasion, a fortress was besieged. When the supplies finished, them men sadly decapitated their families to prevent their capture and torture. With nothing to lose and willing to die, they won the battle. On their return, they miraculously found their families alive.</span></strong></div>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1134850148801471622005-12-17T20:05:00.000+00:002005-12-17T20:32:10.116+00:00The Legend of the Enchanted Cave<strong><span style="color:#000099;">Mr. Vigario and Mr. P. Ferreira remark:</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></strong><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">In Sintra a captured noble fell in love with a Moorish princess. He escaped but was wounded trying to return to her. She was also injured taking him to shelter. They died in each others arms. She still appears near the cave where a scream can also be heard . . .</span></strong></div>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1134849905973572682005-12-17T19:56:00.000+00:002005-12-17T20:32:30.710+00:00The Legend of Seven Cities<strong><span style="color:#000099;">Mr. Pola and Mr. Henriques reveal:</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">In the Azores there were two families that hated each other. One had a boy with saphire eyes, the other a girl with emerald eyes. They fell in love. Their parents found out and separated them. They cried so much they created two logoons - one blue, one green.</span></strong><br /></div><strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></strong>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1134849309414333442005-12-17T19:47:00.000+00:002005-12-17T20:32:48.626+00:00The Legend of Martim Moniz<strong><span style="color:#000099;">Mr. Neto and D. Ferreira recall:</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></strong><br /><br /><div align="center"><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">In one of the attempts to reclaim the city of Lisbon which was in the possession of the Moors, Martim Moniz, a soldier in D. Afonso Henriques' army, used his body to stop the fortress door from closing, giving passage to the rest of the army costing him his life.</span></strong></div>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1134691555784402752005-12-15T22:28:00.000+00:002005-12-16T00:39:39.923+00:00Final Task<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;">TASK 3</span></strong> <p></p></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;">Mini Saga/Legends</span></strong> <p></p></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"></span></strong><p></p></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000099;">There are many colorful legends here in Portugal and I felt it would be worthwhile to share them with the universe. Therefore, our final task will be group work in which you will recount a Portuguese legend in English. Your group can work with your favorite or choose one from the file provided in class or the following link: </span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000099;"><a href="http://lendasdeportugal.no.sapo.pt/index.htm">http://lendasdeportugal.no.sapo.pt/index.htm</a> .</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000099;"></span></strong><p></p></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000099;">Easy, you say! No problem! Consider it done!</span></strong> <p></p></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000099;"></span></strong><p></p></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000099;">Well, before you begin you need to know that there's a catch. You will be writing mini sagas. Remember that a mini saga is a complete story in not more than fifty (50) words. </span></strong><p></p></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#000099;"><span style="color:#000099;">To get you started here is one example from the guided practice that we did in class on</span> <span style="color:#009900;">The Legend of the Almond Trees in Flower.</span></span></strong> <p></p></div><div align="justify"></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#009900;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#009900;"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#009900;"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#009900;">Once a Moorish king married a Nordic princess. Although loved, she was unhappy. To please her, almond trees were planted across the Algarve. One February morning the queen was surpised to see a white landscape similar to her home. Her sadness disappeared and she thanked her husband for the "snow".</span></strong> </span></strong></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#009900;"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#009900;"></span></strong></span></strong><p></p></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#009900;"><strong><span style="font-size:100%;color:#009900;"><span style="color:#000099;">Now you try it. Remember - 50 words or less. Be concise! </span></div><p align="justify"></p></span></strong></span></strong><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;"></span></strong>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1134430191143321242005-12-12T23:26:00.000+00:002005-12-12T23:29:51.166+00:00Another Assignment Accomplished . . .<strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#009900;">Pat yourselves on the back for doing such a great job! The Lisbon-Dakar race can now begin! Stay tuned to this space for your final task.</span></strong>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1133555847835922892005-12-02T20:59:00.000+00:002005-12-02T20:59:58.476+00:00Mr. Dias advises . . .<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/1600/Dias.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/320/Dias.jpg" border="0" /></a>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1133555965241679432005-12-02T20:58:00.000+00:002005-12-02T20:58:54.280+00:00Mr. D. Ferreira declares . . .<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/1600/Ferreira-The%20Goodloking%20Guy.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/320/Ferreira-The%20Goodloking%20Guy.jpg" border="0" /></a>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1133556038206397072005-12-02T20:57:00.000+00:002005-12-02T20:58:01.290+00:00Mr. P. Ferreira encourages . . .<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/1600/Pedro%20Ferreira.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/320/Pedro%20Ferreira.jpg" border="0" /></a>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1133556230208365462005-12-02T20:56:00.000+00:002005-12-02T20:57:41.670+00:00Mr. Gregorio shouts . . .<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/1600/Rogerio%20Gregorio.0.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/320/Rogerio%20Gregorio.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1133557004220488912005-12-02T20:54:00.000+00:002005-12-02T20:56:44.223+00:00Mr. Henriques gasps . . .<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/1600/HENRIQUES.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/320/HENRIQUES.jpg" border="0" /></a>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1133556878443387112005-12-02T20:51:00.000+00:002005-12-02T20:59:36.783+00:00Mr. Martinho suggests . . .<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/1600/Martinho.0.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/320/Martinho.0.jpg" border="0" /></a>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1133556676877327842005-12-02T20:49:00.000+00:002005-12-02T20:51:16.876+00:00Mr. Martins insists . . .<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/1600/Ricardo%20Martins.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/320/Ricardo%20Martins.jpg" border="0" /></a>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1134430394209247662005-12-02T20:48:00.000+00:002005-12-12T23:35:17.713+00:00Mr. Moura concludes . . .<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/1600/moura.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/320/moura.jpg" border="0" /></a>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1133556582964031842005-12-02T20:47:00.000+00:002005-12-02T20:49:42.966+00:00Mr. Neto exclaims . . .<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/1600/NETO.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/320/NETO.jpg" border="0" /></a>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1133556462365255042005-12-02T20:46:00.000+00:002005-12-02T20:47:42.366+00:00Mr. Pola jokes . . .<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/1600/Pola2.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/320/Pola2.jpg" border="0" /></a>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1133556367756646902005-12-02T20:44:00.000+00:002005-12-02T20:46:07.756+00:00Mr. Vigario warns . . .<a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/1600/vigario.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/320/vigario.jpg" border="0" /></a>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1133473260590290702005-12-01T21:15:00.000+00:002005-12-02T14:48:22.796+00:00Lisbon to Dakar 2006<strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;">Task 2</span></strong><br /><br /><a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/1600/Which%20way%20to%20Senegal.jpg"><img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/5976/578/320/Which%20way%20to%20Senegal.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#006600;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">As you are aware, the next Dakar Rally will begin in Lisbon on December 31. Organisers said 508 teams - 240 motorcycles, 180 cars and 80 trucks - will race from December 31 to January 15 with stages through Portugal, Spain, Morocco, Mauritania, Mali and Guinea before the finish in Senegal. This is quite an exciting race and I'm sure that you are all waiting impatiently for the fun to begin. </span><p></strong></p></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#000099;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Your task is to leave messages for the participants. For many of them it will not only be their first time in Portugal but also their first time in a rally! Let's give them a hand: offer advice, give driving tips, present touristic information, or just provide encouragement.</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong></strong><p><span style="color:#000099;"></span></p></div><div align="justify"><strong><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Let's show them just how hospitable we can be! </span><p></strong></p></div><div align="justify"><span style="color:#000099;"></span></div></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#000099;">Please be advised that space is at a premium and you are limited to a maximum of 20 characters and spaces. Good luck!</span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#006600;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#006600;"></span></strong></div><div align="justify"><strong><span style="color:#006600;"></span></strong></div>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1132783555823695132005-11-23T21:03:00.000+00:002005-11-23T22:05:55.846+00:00WELL DONE GENTLEMEN!<strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;">You deserve a round of applause for a job well done. Your responses showed a lot of thought and creativity. Stay tuned for Task 2.</span></strong>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1132779197160507312005-11-23T20:51:00.000+00:002005-11-23T20:53:17.163+00:00Mr. Dias hints . . .<strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">When I look into the future</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">There are clouds dressed in black</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">There is water made of oil</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">There is smoke in polluted air</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">But there are no trees, no blue . . . There's a nightmare</span></strong>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1132779085557264432005-11-23T20:48:00.000+00:002005-11-23T20:51:25.556+00:00Mr. D. Ferreira informs . . .<strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">When I look into the future</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">There are pumps</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">There are people</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">There are people operating the pumps</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">But there isn't much water</span></strong>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19002929.post-1132778914874253322005-11-23T20:45:00.000+00:002005-11-23T22:53:29.763+00:00Mr. P. Ferreira says . . .<strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">When I look into the future</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">There are too many people</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">There is too much confusion</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">There are too many nations</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="color:#cc0000;">But there isn't any world order</span></strong>rddietrichhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06806363655944301222noreply@blogger.com0