Sunday, November 23, 2008
Saturday, November 22, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Die Geschichte der Maria Kastanie
Der Himmel war bereits ganz grau und fast nie schien die Sonne und weil es nicht regnete, gingen die Jungen zum Garten spielen.Es war ein sehr grösser und schöner Garten, mit grünem Gitter, damit die Autos nicht rüber hereinkamen und über die Jungen fuhren. Sie rannten und spielten, in viele Weisen: einige spielten im Schwingen, andere gaben den Enten Brot, andere setzten die Füße auf fallenden Blätter ein – Crack! Crack! - unter den Schuhen, andere liefen mit geöffnetten Armen hinter den Tauben.
Es war gut zum Garten gehen. Auch ohne Sonne, die Kinder hatten heiße Füße und rote Backen, von rennen und springen.
Eines Tages, erschien im Garten ein anderes Mädchen: sie hatte keine rote Backen, aber ein braunes Gesicht, mit zwei dunkel und glänzenden Augen.
Wie heisst du? - fragten die Kinder.
Maria. Maria Kastanie.(1)
Wie lustig! Maria Kastanie!
Willst du spielen?
Ja!
Sie begannen zu spielen. Sie rannten schneller als alle.
Wer kann mich fangen? Fängt mich niemand?
Niemand fängt Maria Kastanie!
Sie lief so schnell! Sie sah das Auto des kastanieverkäufers, bei der Tür des Gartens nicht, und schlag gegen ihn.
Crash!
Der Beutel der Kastanien fiel und verbreitete sie ganz auf dem Boden. Maria Kastanie fiel auch, und sass mitten in den Kastanien.
Oh! Freches Mädchen! - schrie der Kastanieverkäufer heraus. Er war böse.
Es war onhe Absicht! - sagte Maria Kastanie.
Es war onhe Absicht! - erklärten die Jungen.
Ich helfe alles aufzuheben – sagte Maria Kastanie,kniete unter und begann, die fallenden Kastanien aufzuheben. Die anderen Kinder hilfen auch. Bald wurden alle Kastanie aufgehoben.
Wo sind deine Eltern? - fragte der Kastanieverkäufer.
Sie gingen Arbeit suchen.
Und du?
Ich kam Freunde zu suchen.
Du hast sie schon gefunden: wir sind deine Freunde – sagte ein Junge.
Und ich auch – sagte der Kastanieverkäufer, und setzte die Hand an Maria Kastanies weiches Haar, so weich wie die Wolle der jungen Schafe.
Dann sagt er:
Wenn Freunde sich finden, ist es Tradition eine Party zu machen. Machen wir eine Kastanien- party? Mögt ihr Kastanien?
Ja! Ja! – Schrien die Jungen.
Ich weiß nicht. Ich habe nie Kastanien gegessen, im Land woher ich komme gibt es nicht Kastanien – sagte Maria Kastanie.
Du wirdst gleich sehen wie gut sie sind!
Und der Kastanieverkäufer legte Kastanien und Salz und setzte sie im Feuer auf zu grillen.
Nach ein paar Minuten waren die Kastanien fertig....Bang! Bang!
Oh! Schüsse?! - Maria Kastanie erschrak sich, weil sie von einem Land kam, wo es Krieg gab.
Hab keine Angst. Es sind die Kastanien die zu der Hitze knallen.
Aus der Kastanienröstpfanne kam ein hellblaues Rauch und es roch gut. Blau und sehr heiß waren jetzt die Kastanien die der Kastanieverkäufer Maria Kastanie und ihrer Freunde gab.
Gut, sehr gut! - lachte Maria Kastanie während sie die Kastanien aß.
Wenn du mir helfen willst, kannst du alle Tage Kastanien essen. Kannst du Papiertüten machen?
Maria Kastanie konnte nicht, aber sie lernte es.
Sie machte die Papiertüten wo der Kastanieverkäufer die Kastanien hineinlegte und vor den Gartentor sie verkaufte.
(1) Auf portugiesisch, das Wort «Kastanien» gilt gleichzeitig für das Frucht und auch für die Farbe braun.
The Mary Chestnut's Story
The sky was grey and the sun rarely came out, but as long as it didn't rain, the children played in the garden.
It was a very big and beautiful garden, surrounded by a green painted fence that prevented cars from driving in and running over the children, who played freely in various ways: some played in the swings and slides, others were by the lake feeding bread to the ducks, some were stepping on the crackling dry leaves, which would crackle - Crack! Crack! – under their boots, some would run, with their arms opened, after the pigeons that flu up and away, also with open wings.
It felt good going to the garden. Even without the sun, children would warm their feet and redden their cheeks running and jumping up and down.
One day, a different girl turned up in the garden: her cheeks weren't red, but she had a sweet round brown face, with two big dark shining eyes.
- What's your name? – the children asked.
- Mary. Sometimes, people call me Mary Chestnut (1).
- That's funny, Mary Chestnut! Do you want to play?
- Yes I do.
They started to play catch.
Mary Chestnut was running faster than all of them.
- Who can catch me? Does nobody catch me?!
- Nobody catches Mary Chestnut!
She was running so much. So fast, that she didn't see the chestnuts vendor's cart, by the garden's gate, and run into it.
Crash!
The chestnuts bag fell and spread them all over the floor.
Mary Chestnut also fell down and found herself sitting in the middle of the chestnuts.
- Oh! Naughty girl! – yelled an angry chestnuts seller.
- She didn't mean it – explained the other children.
- I'll help to pick everything up – said Mary Chestnut, kneeling down and starting to pick up the fallen chestnuts.
All the other children helped too.
Soon the chestnuts were all picked up
- Where are your parents? – asked the chestnuts seller to Mary Chestnut.
- They are looking for a job.
- And you?
- I was looking for friends.
- You've found them: we are your friends – the children said.
- I'm your friend also – said the chestnuts seller.
He laid a hand on Mary Chestnut's curly soft hair, as soft as the wool on a young lamb.
He then said:
- When friends meet, there's usually a party to celebrate. Let's celebrate with a chestnut party! Does everyone like's chestnuts?
- Yes! Yes, we do! – shouted the children.
- I don't know?! I've never tasted chestnuts. It doesn't grow in my homeland - said Mary Chestnut.
- You'll taste it and know how good it is.
The seller put some chestnuts and salt into the spit and roasted then on top of the fire.
Soon, the nuts were snapping... Bang! Bang!
- Oh! Are these gunshots? – Mary Chestnut was scared, because her homeland was at war.
- Don't be scared. The nuts are snapping with the heat.
And from the spit a light-blue nice smelling smoke rose in the air.
And blue were the very hot toasted chestnuts the Seller gave to Mary Chestnut and her friends.
- This is tasty – said the smiling Mary Chestnut eating the roasted chestnuts.
- If you'll help me, you can eat chestnuts everyday. Do you know how to make paper cartridges?
Mary Brown didn't know, but she soon learned.
She's the one who rolls newspaper into cartridges the seller's fills with chestnut's to sell to customers by the garden's gate.
The End
(1) – in Portuguese the word Chestnut (the fruit) and brown (the colour) is written the same way "castanha", so, in the story, the word is used with a double meaning, as the fruit and as her name symbolizing the colour of her skin.
St. Martin's Portuguese Traditions
In Portugal, St. Martin’s Day is celebrated on November 11th.It remains popular today, especially among the rural population. St. Martin’s Day celebrates the end of the agrarian year and the beginning of the winter period.
It’s celebrated everywhere all over Portugal. Portuguese people call this day Feast of “São Martinho” or “Magusto de São Martinho”, celebrating the day by eating roasted chestnuts, drinking the new red wine, and killing a pig.
The “Magusto” begins in the afternoon. In many areas of the country, people (family and friends) gather around a large fire to cook the chestnuts, do very funny activities with the children and traditional games and they usually go for a long walk.
Everybody celebrates this Day even if only to eat one roast chestnut and drink one small glass of "Jeropiga", or "Água-pé".
Some people also paint their faces with the coal used to grill the chestnuts.
St. Martin's Legend
St. Martin’s Day is celebrated on November 11, named St. Martin’s Day in honour of St. Martin of Tours.The celebration of this day is associated with the legend that says that a roman soldier, passing with his horse by a poor beggar who was almost naked, as he had nothing else to give him cut his cape with his sword and gave one half to the beggar.
It was a rainy day but, from that moment on, it stopped raining and nowadays you say that on November 11 there’s “Saint Martin’s Summer”.
Jardim de Infância da Correeira
It is located in Albufeira - Algarve (Littoral South of Portugal). We are a Pre-primary school (state school) with about 125 pupils, 3 to 6 years olds, and 5 teachers.
We have five classes.
In order to enrich our pupils' education, we have after-school activities.
Our philosophy is to create a happy, secure and caring environment, where the contribution of each child is valued and encouraged.
We have pupils with special needs
We have 17 different nationalities.
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Click on the image to enlarge 
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