<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><rss xmlns:atom='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' version='2.0'><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Wed, 14 Oct 2009 03:48:30 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Bad Girls go to Amsterdam</title><description></description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>31</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-2088528376264490135</guid><pubDate>Sat, 26 Jan 2008 11:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-10T22:51:35.748Z</atom:updated><title>O toque Holandês...</title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Que a casa da Música foi criada por um arquitecto Holandês já eu sabia... mas encontrar uma sala cheia de azulejos com as figuras tipicas de Portugal e no meio encontrar uma réplica dos azulejos do Rijksmuseum... bem, esta foi demais!!! Mas por que razão estes "dutchies" tinham que meter o &lt;em&gt;bedelho&lt;/em&gt; na nossa história?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R5sfsD9EkOI/AAAAAAAAAEw/-W6T0z0yAoA/s1600-h/DSC02011.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159752639919198434" style="WIDTH: 119px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 162px" height="158" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R5sfsD9EkOI/AAAAAAAAAEw/-W6T0z0yAoA/s200/DSC02011.JPG" width="127" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R5sfGT9EkMI/AAAAAAAAAEg/Sy4Z6t2LFv8/s1600-h/DSC02006.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159751991379136706" style="CURSOR: hand" height="162" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R5sfGT9EkMI/AAAAAAAAAEg/Sy4Z6t2LFv8/s200/DSC02006.JPG" width="109" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R5sfgT9EkNI/AAAAAAAAAEo/AYjr-SNda0Q/s1600-h/DSC02008.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159752438055735506" style="WIDTH: 115px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 161px" height="186" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R5sfgT9EkNI/AAAAAAAAAEo/AYjr-SNda0Q/s200/DSC02008.JPG" width="126" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;(brincadeiras à parte, temos que admitir que estrutura do edificio é surpreendente!:D)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-2088528376264490135?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2008/01/o-toque-holands.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R5sfsD9EkOI/AAAAAAAAAEw/-W6T0z0yAoA/s72-c/DSC02011.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-1338555966712801512</guid><pubDate>Tue, 04 Dec 2007 22:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-10T22:51:36.438Z</atom:updated><title>A Transformação!</title><description>&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Este ano a noite dos museus foi passada de uma forma bem diferente... é verdade que visitei museus e é verdade de também vi várias exposições ou relatos de acontecimentos históricos, a diferença está em que desta vez eu própria sofri uma transformação derivado deste mesmo evento.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Num curto espaço de tempo deixei de ser a normal Ana para ser uma cortesã do Bali... Mas esta transformação não foi única para as "Anas" presentes no museu do teatro. A "Garrido" passou a ser uma Gueixa e depois mais tarde em plenas ruas de Amesterdão passava mais por um Mimo. Ora vejam aqui as provas de tal acontecimento:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R1XcXYXYmhI/AAAAAAAAAEE/9RcGD39LGPQ/s1600-h/Imagem+039.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140256843948923410" style="CURSOR: hand" height="140" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R1XcXYXYmhI/AAAAAAAAAEE/9RcGD39LGPQ/s200/Imagem+039.jpg" width="189" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R1XbzIXYmgI/AAAAAAAAAD8/aozVOIJGkSA/s1600-h/Imagem+040.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140256221178665474" style="WIDTH: 191px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 140px" height="135" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R1XbzIXYmgI/AAAAAAAAAD8/aozVOIJGkSA/s200/Imagem+040.jpg" width="187" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R1XdCoXYmjI/AAAAAAAAAEU/t6cVsNhkEB8/s1600-h/Imagem+034.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140257586978265650" style="WIDTH: 169px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px" height="200" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R1XdCoXYmjI/AAAAAAAAAEU/t6cVsNhkEB8/s200/Imagem+034.jpg" width="158" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R1XcqoXYmiI/AAAAAAAAAEM/NNuxftWbeqI/s1600-h/Imagem+029.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140257174661405218" style="WIDTH: 167px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 219px" height="200" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R1XcqoXYmiI/AAAAAAAAAEM/NNuxftWbeqI/s200/Imagem+029.jpg" width="167" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-1338555966712801512?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2007/12/transformao.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R1XcXYXYmhI/AAAAAAAAAEE/9RcGD39LGPQ/s72-c/Imagem+039.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-7633054672588795846</guid><pubDate>Mon, 26 Nov 2007 21:04:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-10T22:51:37.669Z</atom:updated><title></title><description>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R0s6FcQNPjI/AAAAAAAAADk/OgaP9UCfVdQ/s1600-h/DSC01572.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137263665104109106" style="WIDTH: 121px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 101px" height="123" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R0s6FcQNPjI/AAAAAAAAADk/OgaP9UCfVdQ/s200/DSC01572.JPG" width="179" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R0s6m8QNPkI/AAAAAAAAADs/kcHDQjy_ZUs/s1600-h/DSC01610.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137264240629726786" style="WIDTH: 133px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px" height="112" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R0s6m8QNPkI/AAAAAAAAADs/kcHDQjy_ZUs/s200/DSC01610.JPG" width="148" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R0s5l8QNPiI/AAAAAAAAADc/e2UEYNxNC5k/s1600-h/DSC00405.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137263123938229794" style="WIDTH: 143px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 101px" height="123" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R0s5l8QNPiI/AAAAAAAAADc/e2UEYNxNC5k/s200/DSC00405.JPG" width="176" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R0s4y8QNPgI/AAAAAAAAADM/ze0UHZW5Q34/s1600-h/DSC00388.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137262247764901378" style="WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 176px" height="130" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R0s4y8QNPgI/AAAAAAAAADM/ze0UHZW5Q34/s200/DSC00388.JPG" width="114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R0s8DcQNPlI/AAAAAAAAAD0/bl8nFC8kCGI/s1600-h/DSC01588.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137265829767626322" style="WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 185px" height="151" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R0s8DcQNPlI/AAAAAAAAAD0/bl8nFC8kCGI/s200/DSC01588.JPG" width="88" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R0s5DcQNPhI/AAAAAAAAADU/fpem-urHse4/s1600-h/DSC00389.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137262531232742930" style="WIDTH: 125px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 178px" height="139" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R0s5DcQNPhI/AAAAAAAAADU/fpem-urHse4/s200/DSC00389.JPG" width="125" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;O passeio a Maastricht foi longo, mas com uma lentidão natural de quem conta uma história desde a época dos romanos e com a companhia sempre agradável de uma suave brisa de uma tarde de sol, quando o Verão parece terminar...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-7633054672588795846?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2007/11/o-passeio-maastricht-foi-longo-mas-com.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/R0s6FcQNPjI/AAAAAAAAADk/OgaP9UCfVdQ/s72-c/DSC01572.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-8864198689786045090</guid><pubDate>Sun, 11 Nov 2007 20:15:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-10T22:51:40.090Z</atom:updated><title>uma pequena surpresa.. chamada Eslovénia</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/Rzi1OAeNGdI/AAAAAAAAADE/l5ae-jtuYMM/s1600-h/DSC01926.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132051027638163922" style="WIDTH: 94px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 137px" height="162" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/Rzi1OAeNGdI/AAAAAAAAADE/l5ae-jtuYMM/s200/DSC01926.JPG" width="116" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/Rzi0mAeNGcI/AAAAAAAAAC8/bEgEkNo0vP4/s1600-h/DSC01874.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132050340443396546" style="WIDTH: 88px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 136px" height="145" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/Rzi0mAeNGcI/AAAAAAAAAC8/bEgEkNo0vP4/s200/DSC01874.JPG" width="89" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/Rzi0UQeNGbI/AAAAAAAAAC0/csd-yRRyrLY/s1600-h/DSC01660.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132050035500718514" style="WIDTH: 156px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 138px" height="127" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/Rzi0UQeNGbI/AAAAAAAAAC0/csd-yRRyrLY/s200/DSC01660.JPG" width="164" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/Rziz-weNGaI/AAAAAAAAACs/QP4JIH-lveE/s1600-h/DSC01629.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132049666133531042" style="WIDTH: 111px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 157px" height="159" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/Rziz-weNGaI/AAAAAAAAACs/QP4JIH-lveE/s200/DSC01629.JPG" width="115" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RzizvweNGZI/AAAAAAAAACk/fEGmX0_btfE/s1600-h/DSC01622.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132049408435493266" style="WIDTH: 112px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 157px" height="157" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RzizvweNGZI/AAAAAAAAACk/fEGmX0_btfE/s200/DSC01622.JPG" width="101" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RzizZAeNGXI/AAAAAAAAACU/eVxUdbTMtPE/s1600-h/DSC01615.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5132049017593469298" style="WIDTH: 114px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 157px" height="179" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RzizZAeNGXI/AAAAAAAAACU/eVxUdbTMtPE/s200/DSC01615.JPG" width="125" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Estava eu num outro dia a dar o ar da minha graça e mostrar as minhas aventuras, quando reparei que o meu (o nosso) blog estava um pouco esquecido.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Pois aqui vai uma das minhas ultimas aventuras... Eslovénia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;A ideia desta viagem (para além de re-encontrar a minha irmã e minha prima) seria tirar uns dias para finalmente descansar e esquecer todas as tarefas do dia a dia de trabalho. Objectivo: cumprido!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Os primeiros dias foram passados na montanha e com um lago deslumbrante a juntar-se à paisagem. A àgua era tão clara que mesmo com as baixas temperaturas dava a vontade de dar um mergulho e quem sabe congelar de tanto frio... Depois de tanto aproveitar o descanso e o ar puro, fomos até à capital...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Lijubliana é uma cidade catita, pequena e extremamente acolhedora.Nem mesmo a imagem de um Dragão que tanto tenta protejer as barreiras da cidade consegue amedrontar um mero turista. Aqui o tempo foi passado entre a história e a noite alternatva eslovena e com a companhia sempre muito alegre de um amigo "instântaneo".&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;E assim regressei...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-8864198689786045090?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2007/11/uma-pequena-surpresa-chamada-eslovnia.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/Rzi1OAeNGdI/AAAAAAAAADE/l5ae-jtuYMM/s72-c/DSC01926.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-7164130517998033892</guid><pubDate>Sat, 21 Jul 2007 14:33:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-10T22:51:41.615Z</atom:updated><title>Home...</title><description>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIebyJZmOI/AAAAAAAAACM/WkquOdBHD_E/s1600-h/DSC01549.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089663991548582114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIebyJZmOI/AAAAAAAAACM/WkquOdBHD_E/s320/DSC01549.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIdYiJZmNI/AAAAAAAAACE/au9B5ZDaaYw/s1600-h/DSC01551.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089662836202379474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIdYiJZmNI/AAAAAAAAACE/au9B5ZDaaYw/s320/DSC01551.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIc0iJZmMI/AAAAAAAAAB8/_ZQAo_wqjHA/s1600-h/DSC01531.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089662217727088834" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIc0iJZmMI/AAAAAAAAAB8/_ZQAo_wqjHA/s320/DSC01531.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIcPyJZmLI/AAAAAAAAAB0/Dt5moer8stU/s1600-h/09-07-07_0115.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089661586366896306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIcPyJZmLI/AAAAAAAAAB0/Dt5moer8stU/s320/09-07-07_0115.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIcGCJZmKI/AAAAAAAAABs/Ghgaq1zV8zU/s1600-h/DSC01569.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089661418863171746" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIcGCJZmKI/AAAAAAAAABs/Ghgaq1zV8zU/s320/DSC01569.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIbdyJZmJI/AAAAAAAAABk/cJzlx2SlHj8/s1600-h/DSC01567.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089660727373437074" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIbdyJZmJI/AAAAAAAAABk/cJzlx2SlHj8/s320/DSC01567.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIa6SJZmII/AAAAAAAAABc/JKND1qSg3No/s1600-h/DSC01558.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089660117488081026" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIa6SJZmII/AAAAAAAAABc/JKND1qSg3No/s320/DSC01558.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIaWiJZmHI/AAAAAAAAABU/jIRd5CcHKfk/s1600-h/DSC01563.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5089659503307757682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIaWiJZmHI/AAAAAAAAABU/jIRd5CcHKfk/s320/DSC01563.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where ou are, it's where my home is...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;See you at the next great weekend... in Portugal! ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-7164130517998033892?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2007/07/home.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RqIebyJZmOI/AAAAAAAAACM/WkquOdBHD_E/s72-c/DSC01549.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-1076583159097425369</guid><pubDate>Sun, 17 Jun 2007 17:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-06-17T18:36:44.158+01:00</atom:updated><title>...um Portugal perdido...</title><description>&lt;embed style="WIDTH: 481px; HEIGHT: 306px" name="flashticker" align="middle" src="http://widget-7a.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" width="481" height="306" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="site=widget-7a.slide.com&amp;channel=648518346341452922&amp;amp;cy=be&amp;il=1"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;div style="WIDTH: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?ad=1&amp;tt=35&amp;amp;sk=0&amp;cy=be&amp;amp;th=0&amp;id=648518346341452922&amp;amp;map=1" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-7a.slide.com/p1/648518346341452922/be_t035_v000_a001_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?ad=1&amp;tt=35&amp;amp;sk=0&amp;cy=be&amp;amp;th=0&amp;id=648518346341452922&amp;amp;map=2" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-7a.slide.com/p2/648518346341452922/be_t035_v000_a001_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Por entre curvas e mais curvas, dá-se a volta ao tempo.&lt;br /&gt;Encontramos terras perdidas.&lt;br /&gt;Perdidas no tempo...&lt;br /&gt;Perdidas na história...&lt;br /&gt;Perdidas nas tradições...&lt;br /&gt;Perdidas na época majestosa...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-1076583159097425369?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2007/06/um-portugal-perdido.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-5433533404737964835</guid><pubDate>Sat, 16 Jun 2007 08:53:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-10T22:51:43.216Z</atom:updated><title>a magia Africana e um toque de Sensualidade...</title><description>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RnOmfT-ZfQI/AAAAAAAAABE/oSqtRovY-6U/s1600-h/DSC01477.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076584261844827394" style="WIDTH: 204px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 153px" height="217" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RnOmfT-ZfQI/AAAAAAAAABE/oSqtRovY-6U/s320/DSC01477.JPG" width="200" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RnOl_T-ZfPI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Fh4DdlZqo54/s1600-h/bebelgilberto.bmp"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5076583712089013490" style="WIDTH: 169px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 153px" height="200" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RnOl_T-ZfPI/AAAAAAAAAA8/Fh4DdlZqo54/s320/bebelgilberto.bmp" width="234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Uma semana passou ao sabor de uma noite Luso-Africana...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;a semana seguinte foi com a sensação de uma sensualidade a sair de cada poro do nosso corpo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Sara Tavares&lt;/strong&gt; teve a capacidade de mudar as tradições holandesas de simples espectadores e conseguiu num momento totalmente inexplicável levantar um público ansioso pela dança, pela alegria de participar, de fazer parte da música... A diversidade cultural e a interacção entre cada ser completamente diferente fez compreender que o mais impossivel e ao mesmo tempo &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;o mais desejado é possivel!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Bebel Gilberto&lt;/strong&gt; criou um ambiente acolhedor... um sofá, uma mesa com flores e uma taça de champanhe com o morango... tudo isto para uma multidão ser seduzida por jogo explicitamente sensual.E o resultado?! Um publico a vibrar sensualidade e uma cantora rendida aos encantos de Amesterdão... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-5433533404737964835?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2007/06/magia-africana-e-um-toque-de.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RnOmfT-ZfQI/AAAAAAAAABE/oSqtRovY-6U/s72-c/DSC01477.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-8750781848559981936</guid><pubDate>Wed, 16 May 2007 19:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-10T22:51:43.686Z</atom:updated><title>Rosie Thomas</title><description>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RldI189q8OI/AAAAAAAAAA0/FmFCHzdn_WU/s1600-h/rosiethomas-cvr-1103.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068599997363843298" style="WIDTH: 135px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 163px" height="205" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RldI189q8OI/AAAAAAAAAA0/FmFCHzdn_WU/s320/rosiethomas-cvr-1103.jpg" width="190" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RldIxM9q8NI/AAAAAAAAAAs/3QuzbDa9WGI/s1600-h/rosie.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5068599915759464658" style="WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 163px" height="192" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RldIxM9q8NI/AAAAAAAAAAs/3QuzbDa9WGI/s320/rosie.jpg" width="279" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Trust in life... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Where you are is where you´re supposed to be. And if it feells the wrong place, eventualy will be the right place, because where you are is the right place"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;A voz de uma criança despertava para a música&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;para de repente numa transformação de menina para mulher&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;espantar um público totalmente tocado pelas letras... pela música&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Assim foi o concerto de Rosie Thomas... um arrepio... uma lágrima... um só sentimento.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-8750781848559981936?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2007/05/rosie-thomas.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/RldI189q8OI/AAAAAAAAAA0/FmFCHzdn_WU/s72-c/rosiethomas-cvr-1103.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-3774490158033701424</guid><pubDate>Fri, 11 May 2007 17:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-05-16T20:33:20.724+01:00</atom:updated><title>1 Year Later....</title><description>&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/zS355gr2c0I" width="425" height="350" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-3774490158033701424?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2007/05/1-year-later.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-1987782114624062124</guid><pubDate>Thu, 19 Apr 2007 19:11:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-04-19T20:21:21.318+01:00</atom:updated><title>"O choque cultural"</title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Isto de trabalhar numa empresa Holandesa de vez em quando temos umas pequenas surpresas como estas:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;   &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"Hi Ana,&lt;br /&gt;If you read the following, please don't scream on the department regarding this email&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;(…)&lt;br /&gt;I'd just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your work mentality. You want to learn the stuff that you do and it shows, so keep it up. We need more persons to adapt this mentality.&lt;br /&gt;(...)&lt;br /&gt;And…please don't become more of a primadonna after this email…:-)"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Isto é que é começar bem o dia, não é?! :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-1987782114624062124?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2007/04/o-choque-cultural.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-117052777538769670</guid><pubDate>Sat, 03 Feb 2007 18:32:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-10T22:51:43.920Z</atom:updated><title>O FIM... HET EIND... THE END... (ou talvés não)</title><description>&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Vejo uma secretária vazia e todos os utensilios de trabalho a regressarem a casa...&lt;br /&gt;casa... uma invenção de casa...&lt;br /&gt;As malas também não foram feitas, o bilhete de regresso foi adiado e aquele momento que mais esperava depois de 8 meses apenas teve lugar na minha imaginação.&lt;br /&gt;Não disse adeus, nem àqueles que sempre me acompanharam e me ensinaram, preferi evitar o dificil momento da despedida. Mas porque razão a despedida se não voltei?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Este foi o momento que finalizou o meu estágio, e definitivamente não foi o fim das amizades criadas, não foi o adeus à terra que me acolheu, apenas a mudança de local de trabalho!!! E claro foi o recordar e guardar numa gaveta muito querida todas as lembranças de momentos que tornaram este estágio inesquecivel: a noite do bowling, as correcções gramaticais, o club 11 com o Rui (meu supervisor), a minha incapacidade para Bob, enfim... todos aqueles momentos que nos henriquecem e fazem-nos relembrar da importância das pequenas coisas. Obrigado Rui e Priscila!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/Rd8isCFfg1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/2tKxeG5jLpk/s1600-h/DSC00064.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5034781048293000018" style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/Rd8isCFfg1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/2tKxeG5jLpk/s320/DSC00064.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-117052777538769670?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2007/02/o-fim-het-eind-end-ou-talvs-no.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_3I-sQ2JkzJI/Rd8isCFfg1I/AAAAAAAAAAM/2tKxeG5jLpk/s72-c/DSC00064.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-117052753644913135</guid><pubDate>Sat, 03 Feb 2007 17:56:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-02-03T18:32:16.460Z</atom:updated><title>Barcelona!!!</title><description>&lt;embed name="flashticker" align="middle" src="http://widget-d3.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" width="400" height="300" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="cy=bl&amp;amp;il=1&amp;channel=288230376155067859&amp;amp;site=widget-d3.slide.com" wmode="transparent" salign="l" scale="noscale" quality="high"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;div style="WIDTH: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?sk=0&amp;amp;tt=24&amp;cy=bl&amp;amp;ad=1&amp;id=288230376155067859&amp;amp;map=1" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-d3.slide.com/p1/288230376155067859/bl_t024_v000_a001_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?sk=0&amp;amp;tt=24&amp;cy=bl&amp;amp;ad=1&amp;id=288230376155067859&amp;amp;map=2" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-d3.slide.com/p2/288230376155067859/bl_t024_v000_a001_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Decidi dar uma prenda de natal atrasada a mim própria... que exagero de egocentrismo...enfim...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Tinha acabado de chegar a Amesterdão para novamente fazer a mala e partir rumo a Barcelona.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Barcelona tem a capacidade de despertar os sentidos, de nos fazer entrar na onda da genialidade e querer sempre ultrapassar o além das possibilidades... As ruas, as casas, o minimo pormenor simboliza a criação da singulariedade de uma mente desprendida da realidade que perdura pelo infinito, para num objecto apenas encontrar-se o passado, o presente e o futuro.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-117052753644913135?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2007/02/barcelona.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-116893834045728249</guid><pubDate>Tue, 16 Jan 2007 08:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-01-16T09:08:05.020Z</atom:updated><title>a Mudança!!!</title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Finalmente, mudamos de localização do escritório A.S. Holding B.V. - AEROSOLES!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Passamos do meio das vaquinhas, dos patos, dos magnificos cavalos e de muito verde para o maior centro comercial de Den Haag!!! Vejam as diferenças:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uithoorn&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/476/3465/1600/870070/Uithoorn2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 146px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px" height="129" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/476/3465/200/920351/Uithoorn2.jpg" width="154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/476/3465/1600/806468/Uithoorn3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 106px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 119px" height="134" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/476/3465/200/836718/Uithoorn3.jpg" width="125" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/476/3465/1600/186062/WorkPlace2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 168px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 120px" height="120" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/476/3465/200/384656/WorkPlace2.jpg" width="186" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Den Haag&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/476/3465/1600/573719/DenHaag%2020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/476/3465/200/84848/DenHaag%2020.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/476/3465/1600/866235/DenHaag%2012.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/476/3465/200/169419/DenHaag%2012.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Voltei à civilização!!! ;)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-116893834045728249?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2007/01/mudana.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-116610359870670498</guid><pubDate>Thu, 14 Dec 2006 13:39:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2007-01-03T20:22:21.620Z</atom:updated><title>Paris.... e uma brisa de ar fresco!!!</title><description>&lt;embed name="flashticker" align="middle" src="http://widget-47.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" width="400" height="300" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="cy=bl&amp;il=1&amp;amp;channel=216172782115090759&amp;site=widget-47.slide.com" wmode="transparent" salign="l" scale="noscale" quality="high"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="WIDTH: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?id=216172782115090759&amp;cy=bl&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;tt=1&amp;at=0&amp;amp;map=1" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-47.slide.com/p1/216172782115090759/bl_t001_v000_a000_f00/images/xslide1.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/pivot?id=216172782115090759&amp;cy=bl&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;tt=1&amp;at=0&amp;amp;map=2" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-47.slide.com/p2/216172782115090759/bl_t001_v000_a000_f00/images/xslide2.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Com Amesterdão a cair num ambiente taciturno, melancólico, e desesperadamente à procura de um raio de luz... nada melhor do que mudar de ares.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;De todas as cidade europeiras, Paris nunca foi a minha primeira opção de visita. A ideia de cidade dos amantes, extremamente turistica, e da arrogancia ou mesmo incapacidade francesa para não falar outra lingua que não seja francês, fazia com que o entusiasmo pela visita não fosse assim tão grande. Tudo isto é verdade... e no entanto, tudo isto adorei!!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Cheguei e já o sol tinha passado pelo seu 2º sono e como qualquer cidade da magnitude das capitais Europeias o primeiro impacto é sempre assustador. Os rostos cansados, cabisbaixos e ansiosos pelo descanso merecido, desconfiam de qualquer estrangeiro extesiado pela aventura e o mau humor da falta de sono corta qualquer tipo de conversa ou até mesmo dá a entender que na tentativa de uma aproximação poderá acontecer algo de catastrófico!!! Mas também, comecei a mostrar o meu ar de cansada (6h de viagem não é fácil!!!) e mesmo o entusiasmo da viagem e do reencontro não conseguiram lutar contra o meu cansaço... chegar à casa das bonecas, como chama o meu afilhado à casa da sua avó, foi o alivio. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Comecei por visitar o Sacré Coeur, o segundo ponto mais alto de Paris. Acompanhada pela melodia de uma harpa, pela paisagem magnifica de uma cidade gigante e pela melhor companhia possivel - a minha mana, comecei a apaixonar-me por Paris. Encontramos uma feirinha de pinturas e perdemo-nos pelas ruas, para de repente reparar-mos que tinhamos o Moulin Rouge à nossa frente!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;A paragem seguinte seria a torre Eiffel, mas não foi desta vez que decidimos ir ao topo... afinal não estávamos com tempo para estar na fila 4h. Preferimos algo mais relaxante... um passeio de barco!!! Mas antes disso, ainda tivemos tempo de ver a escola militar e o Hotel des Invalides. Nada como ouvir um pouquinho da história de Napoleão.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;O jantar diria que foi uma experiência engraçada. A Ticha pela 1ª vez iria experimentar a gastronomia Tailandesa, mas ao que parece não convenceu!!! Nada como a comidinha portuguesa. eheheh&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;No segundo dia decidi aventurar-me e tentar ir para as filas do Louvre... algo ultrapassado com muita facilidade. Nem 5 minutos esperei!!! Pelo tamanho extretamente longo das galerias, decidi fazer uma selecção das galerias que gostaria ver, obviamente que o quadro da Mona Lisa tinha que estar na minha lista!!! Ver os quadros na realidade, ao ponto de cheirar as tintas, ver as esculturas e puder tocar em nada se compara com uma imagem dos nossos livros. Quadros de uma beleza inacreditável fazem parar multidões e com a multidão ouvi as opiniões, as histórias, os contos... &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;A tentativa de corrida para a Notre Dame foi completamente destruida quando deparamos com as feirinhas de rua, cheias de quadros, fotos, livros, CDs... enfim, todos aqueles artefactos que chamam a atenção de qualquer turista. Foi com muito esforço que conseguimos chegar à Catedral aterradoramente encantadora!!! Ao som da música clássica de António Correa e Handel para orgão liturgico, decidimos fazer uma paragem e aproveitar aquele momento mistico. Pareciamos personagens do conto do Corcunda de Notre Dame... e estávamos a adorar!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;A noite foi uma verdadeira saga para encontrar o Buda Bar. Começamos no Arco do Triunfo e acabamos no Concorde. Para finalmente, descobrirmos um ambiente completamente fora do contexto parisiense... provavelmente por este facto, este bar é um dos sitios mais atraente para se passar uma noite.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;O último dia. Não queria acreditar. Não podia ser. Como aproveitar as poucas horas antes de ir para Amesterdão? &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;No maior ponto turistico e mais alto de Paris: a Torre Eiffel. A cada piso uma vertigem, a inclinação começa a aumentar, as vertigens parecem querer meter medo e o vento com uma força de levantar qualquer ser humano fez com que esta fosse a verdadeira aventura do fim de semana. Mas compensada pela imagem surpreendente de uma cidade cheia de histórias, cheia de tradições, que a cada esquina depara-se com uma vida atarefada, uma estória de amor, para no final fazer-nos querer voltar...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-116610359870670498?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2006/12/paris-e-uma-brisa-de-ar-fresco.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-116470499663248981</guid><pubDate>Tue, 28 Nov 2006 08:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-11-29T11:22:42.733Z</atom:updated><title>Mythologies... by Patricia Barber</title><description>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00095.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="121" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/DSC00095.jpg" width="170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;a href="http://www.patriciabarber.com/discs/mythologies.htm"&gt;Mythologies&lt;/a&gt; is a song cycle based on Greek mythology, which uses characters from The Metamorphoses of Ovid as the basis for each of the 11 songs, giving these timeless stories a uniquely contemporary and compelling musical setting."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A voice that wispered magical things&lt;br /&gt;a guitar that takes you to another place&lt;br /&gt;and  drumbs completely crazy amazed me.&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00087.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 126px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 171px" height="179" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/DSC00087.jpg" width="133" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00088.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 173px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 124px" height="138" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/DSC00088.jpg" width="187" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00088.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Patricia Barber created a new environment at the Bimhuis. A concert of 1h30m and no one notested the time pass... I wanted more!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;to listen a little bit: &lt;a href="http://www.bluenote.com/patriciabarber/player.html"&gt;http://www.bluenote.com/patriciabarber/player.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-116470499663248981?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2006/11/mythologies-by-patricia-barber.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-116470388185380774</guid><pubDate>Tue, 28 Nov 2006 08:33:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-11-28T08:51:21.866Z</atom:updated><title>Museum Nacht</title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/NachtMuseum.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 174px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 277px" height="267" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/320/NachtMuseum.0.jpg" width="171" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;A noite estava gelada, mas nem único pingo se viu ou se sentiu durante aquelas horas extesiantes de plena descoberta e fantasia...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Foram concertos, foram jogos ciêntificos, foram provas gostativas... foi uma corrida desenfreada para tentar ver o maior número possível de museus numa noite! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;Pairava no ar uma névoa mística... e Amesterdão era uma outra cidade. Parecia que alguma força divina tinha adivinhado a importância daquelas horas nocturnas e alterou o cenário... mágico!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;u&gt;&lt;/u&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-116470388185380774?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2006/11/museum-nacht.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-116300780392034266</guid><pubDate>Wed, 08 Nov 2006 17:28:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-11-27T16:06:52.396Z</atom:updated><title>the Neighbour</title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/476/3465/1600/161341/JMCoben.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/x/blogger/476/3465/320/933683/JMCoben.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Well, after talking for so long and so much I think it's time to show to all of you who my neighbour is and explain this strange character.&lt;br /&gt;Me and Rosane met J.M. (as he likes being called) when we were trying to put my mattress inside the apartment. As you can imagine that was a very difficult task: the stairs, the doors, everything is too small, to let pass a bed. But for Jan that was a very easy task... However the first impression that me and Rosane had wasn't very good: for us, he was quite a cold person, who didn't want to talk much and liked keeping a certain distance... a typical Dutch :D &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;That all changed, when we saw him for the second time: his car was stolen and he was completely crazy!!!&lt;br /&gt;Of course, the perception we had in the beginning was changing every time we went out with Jan... He's one of the cleverest persons I know and it's quit interesting to have a discussion about religion with this guy, or any other subject. In addition, he is a person with strange hobbies. For example: how can a doctor be a poker professional?! And with this question I mean how can a scientific person like him depends on luck?! And if you look at the picture, you will see a very strange scarf... well, let’s just say that he is a compulsive consumer!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Besides this peculiar behaviours, Jan (or "Doc" for some of us) is a great friend... he's always available to help, and his way of living amazes me... he just doesn't care about money or any other superfluous things, however he has to understand that even the most shallow person can have something interesting to say...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-116300780392034266?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2006/11/neighbour.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-116280816847024785</guid><pubDate>Mon, 06 Nov 2006 10:14:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-11-19T22:12:33.683Z</atom:updated><title>Enkhuizen</title><description>&lt;embed name="flashticker" align="middle" src="http://widget-58.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" width="475" height="375" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" quality="high" scale="noscale" salign="l" wmode="transparent" flashvars="site=widget-58.slide.com&amp;channel=216172782114125144&amp;amp;cy=bl&amp;il=1"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="WIDTH: 475px; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;a style="VERTICAL-ALIGN: middle" href="http://www.slide.com/msnew/ticker?cid=216172782114125144&amp;cy=bl&amp;amp;tt=14&amp;at=0" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-58.slide.com/h2/216172782114125144/bl_t014_v000_a000_f00/images/slide3.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/msnew/ticker?cid=216172782114125144&amp;amp;amp;cy=bl&amp;tt=14&amp;amp;at=0" target="_blank"&gt;Get Your Own!&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/msview/ticker?cid=216172782114125144&amp;cy=bl&amp;amp;tt=14&amp;at=0" target="_blank"&gt;View Slideshow&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Domingo de manhã... um sol magnifico, rarissimo nesta altura do ano na Holanda... Não podia ficar em casa... Tinha combinado com o Ricardo visitar uma pequena cidade num dos extremos do grande dique - Enkhuizen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Enkuizen é um pequeno povoado caracterizado pelos artefactos tradicionais de pescadores. Foi, outrora, um dos locais mais importantes para o comércio proveniente das colónias indianas, mas começou a perder a sua importância com o desenvolvimento de Amesterdão no séc. XVIII. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Em todos os canais encontravam-se redes de pescadores e em cada casa o simbolo da cidade (3  peixes).&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Hoje, com apenas 1700 habitantes é uma pequena "aldeia" que ainda mantém as suas tradições e extremamente agrádavel de visitar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-116280816847024785?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2006/11/enkhuizen.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-116220104988902038</guid><pubDate>Mon, 30 Oct 2006 09:17:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-10-30T16:00:38.190Z</atom:updated><title>A partida de uma amiga...</title><description>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Prefiro viver no sonho,&lt;br /&gt;e imaginar que nada mudou... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC03225.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 190px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 284px" height="297" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/320/DSC03225.jpg" width="219" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;não quero deparar-me com a dura realidade,&lt;br /&gt;que já não tenho a minha amiga aqui...&lt;br /&gt;sim... minha amiga!!!&lt;br /&gt;Aquela pessoa que com toda a sua força,&lt;br /&gt;a sua alegria,&lt;br /&gt;fez com que todas as tuburlências&lt;br /&gt;e todos os detritos de um tempo duro&lt;br /&gt;fossem meras trivialidades do dia-a-dia....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prefiro a falsa realidade até o teu regresso verdadeiro...&lt;br /&gt;E assim a nossa amizade,&lt;br /&gt;os nossos momentos de pura festa,&lt;br /&gt;a nossa partilha de experiencias,&lt;br /&gt;vão manter-se inalteráveis,&lt;br /&gt;e o tempo vai passar levemente...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Até já, amiga!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-116220104988902038?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2006/10/partida-de-uma-amiga.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>3</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-116185362944372629</guid><pubDate>Thu, 26 Oct 2006 09:05:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-10-30T16:02:50.953Z</atom:updated><title>No entardecer do dia...</title><description>&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00003.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 103px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" height="181" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/DSC00003.0.jpg" width="133" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00004.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 98px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 150px" height="178" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/DSC00004.0.jpg" width="134" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00003.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00014.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00004.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00004.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;No entardecer dos dias, às vezes, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#339999;"&gt;Ainda que não haja brisa nenhuma, parece &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#339999;"&gt;Que passa, um momento, uma leve brisa... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#339999;"&gt;Mas as árvores permanecem imóveis &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#339999;"&gt;Em todas as folhas das suas folhas &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;color:#339999;"&gt;E os nossos sentidos tiveram uma ilusão, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;span style="color:#339999;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Tiveram a ilusão do que lhes agradaria...&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00003.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00014.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00004.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00008.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00008.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 109px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 156px" height="173" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/DSC00008.jpg" width="128" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00007.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 107px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 156px" height="170" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/DSC00007.0.jpg" width="125" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00014.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 103px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 155px" height="176" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/DSC00014.1.jpg" width="125" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00003.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00014.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00004.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00008.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00008.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00003.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00014.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00004.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00008.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00008.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00008.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00008.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00008.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00008.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC00008.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="right"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-116185362944372629?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2006/10/no-entardecer-do-dia.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-116176374142868186</guid><pubDate>Wed, 25 Oct 2006 07:52:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-10-30T15:59:53.813Z</atom:updated><title>Pequenos pedaços de casa em Amesterdão</title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC01573.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 122px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 99px" height="133" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/DSC01573.jpg" width="160" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC01398.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 130px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px" height="126" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/DSC01398.jpg" width="160" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/dscf0135.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 134px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 100px" height="133" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/dscf0135.jpg" width="183" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/Vondelpark.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 128px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 174px" height="171" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/Vondelpark.jpg" width="125" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/dscf0040.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 126px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 174px" height="181" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/dscf0040.jpg" width="135" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC01947.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 127px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 172px" height="183" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/DSC01947.jpg" width="129" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/IMGP0860.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 188px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 123px" height="130" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/IMGP0860.jpg" width="180" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/Imagem%20075.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 193px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 123px" height="123" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/Imagem%20075.jpg" width="173" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Nestes últimos meses a nossa casa virou hotel para as visitas de Portugal e Brasil... Foi um cheirinho da nossa casa, dos nossos mais queridos amigos e familiares... Foram momentos (curtos, muito curtos) para matar as saudades ou talvés aumentar, não sei... é um misto de emoções, impossiveis de decifrar. Em cada semana um estilo diferente, mas todos com a determinação de conhecer cada canto desta cidade que a todos apaixonou. A todos um muito obrigado pelo apoio, pela força, pelo carinho... &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-116176374142868186?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2006/10/pequenos-pedaos-de-casa-em-amesterdo.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>2</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-116169435428186658</guid><pubDate>Tue, 24 Oct 2006 12:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-10-24T13:52:34.293+01:00</atom:updated><title>Fomos aos moinhos!!!</title><description>&lt;embed name="flashticker" align="middle" src="http://widget-b1.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" width="475" height="375" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="site=widget-b1.slide.com&amp;channel=360287970189702065&amp;amp;cy=bl&amp;il=1" wmode="transparent" salign="l" scale="noscale" quality="high"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt; &lt;div style="WIDTH: 475px; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;a style="VERTICAL-ALIGN: middle" href="http://www.slide.com/msnew/ticker?cid=360287970189702065&amp;cy=bl&amp;amp;tt=16&amp;at=0" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://widget-b1.slide.com/h2/360287970189702065/bl_t016_v000_a000_f00/images/slide3.gif" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/msnew/ticker?cid=360287970189702065&amp;amp;cy=bl&amp;tt=16&amp;amp;at=0" target="_blank"&gt;Get Your Own!&lt;/a&gt;  &lt;a href="http://www.slide.com/msview/ticker?cid=360287970189702065&amp;cy=bl&amp;amp;tt=16&amp;amp;at=0" target="_blank"&gt;View Slideshow&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-116169435428186658?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2006/10/fomos-aos-moinhos.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-115926672819106764</guid><pubDate>Tue, 26 Sep 2006 10:21:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-09-26T11:52:51.970+01:00</atom:updated><title>à descoberta de um festival de Jazz...</title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/02-09-06_2131.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="108" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/02-09-06_2131.jpg" width="149" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Para quem pensa que se trata de um fim de semana inteiro de concertos de jazz... engana-se redondamente!!! Um festival de Jazz em Amesterdão (pelo menos este) é um dia inteiro de concertos e não inteiramente de Jazz... à mistura temos blues, um pouquinho de rock e para o grande final música tradicional AFRICANA!!! Com direito a exibição em directo na televisão holandesa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/02-09-06_2101.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 153px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 110px" height="117" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/02-09-06_2101.jpg" width="131" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Com dois palcos montados em cima do canal, quando as centenas de pessoas começaram a saltar ao ritmo da musica africana, pensei que todos iam cair à àgua... mas a estrutura lá conseguiu aguentar com o peso de todos que lá estavam. E entre os intervalos dos concertos, era a corrida para as barraquinhas de comidas, bebidas, cd's e  livros espalhadas pelas ruas que limitavam o canal... o espaço era realmente  reduzido... O mais dificil era compreender a apresentadora, quando esta indicava em qual palco iria começar o concerto seguinte... nada como seguir a mu&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/02-09-06_2127.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="113" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/02-09-06_2127.0.jpg" width="152" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;ltidão!!!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;Completamente sozinha, senti-me à vontade para saltar o mais que pudesse, afin&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/02-09-06_2127.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;al não conhecia ninguém!!! E por incrivel que pareça, o medo não bateu à minha porta... sentia-me completamente segura...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/02-09-06_2127.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-115926672819106764?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2006/09/descoberta-de-um-festival-de-jazz.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-115796292486925264</guid><pubDate>Mon, 11 Sep 2006 08:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-09-21T12:25:19.023+01:00</atom:updated><title>Belgium</title><description>&lt;embed style="WIDTH: 464px; HEIGHT: 249px" name="flashticker" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" align="middle" src="http://widget-e7.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" width="464" height="249" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="site=widget-e7.slide.com&amp;channel=72057594043092199&amp;amp;cy=bl" wmode="transparent" salign="l" scale="noscale" quality="high"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px" height="0" src="http://widget-e7.slide.com/f2/72057594043092199/bl_t000_v000_a000_f00/images/blank.gif" width="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Começava o sol a dar o primeiros sinais de vida e já estávamos a sair de Amesterdão... Foram 4h de viagem com muita conversa e um reavivar dos tempos de faculdade. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Saímos do comboio e demos de caras com uma estação cinzenta, onde todos se atropelam no desespero de conseguir entrar a tempo no próximo comboio. De seguida fomos ao encontro do trio magnifico de Bruxelas: Pedro - o Draga (=suga tudo), Sérgio - a nossa bússula, e o Nuno que não é Bruno :P - o equilibrista. E demos inicio a mais um fim de semana de descobertas... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Bruxelas é um misto de modernidade e antiguidade. De um lado os monumentos, a história, as tradições belgas. Do outro, a magnitude da União Europeia e todos os seus edificios imponentes, virados para o futuro. Mas a descoberta de Bruxelas não podia passar apenas por um passeio aos edifios e monumentos desta cidade, foi também uma descoberta de novos sabores: os tradicionais chocolates belgas, as batatas fritas que vão 2 vezes ao óleo , as mules (=berbigão) também com as batatas fritas e as cervejas dos mais variados sabores. Acabamos o dia num bar tipicamente belga, com espectáculos de equilibrio do nosso equilibrista do grupo!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;No dia seguinte metemo-nos na nossa máquina do tempo e regressamos à época medieval... Brugge é uma cidade que parece parada no tempo, estávamos na época dos reis e rainhas, principes e princesas, bruxas e fadas...enfim, todas aquelas personagens das nossas histórias de encantar. Só as tecnologias da actualidade (carros, motas, e outras) é que tinham a capacidade de nos lembrar que estavamos no ano de 2006!!! Ficamos completamente rendidos, encantados, apaixonados por esta cidade (que dizem ser a 2ª Veneza da Europa). Não queriamos sair dali, queriamos, refugiar-nos no castelo à espera que o nosso principe encantado viesse salvar-nos... mas a realidade chamava-nos à razão, estava na hora de regressar...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed style="WIDTH: 415px; HEIGHT: 250px" name="flashticker" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" align="middle" src="http://widget-d3.slide.com/widgets/slideticker.swf" width="415" height="250" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="site=widget-d3.slide.com&amp;channel=72057594043093459&amp;amp;cy=bl" wmode="transparent" salign="l" scale="noscale" quality="high"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px" height="0" src="http://widget-d3.slide.com/f2/72057594043093459/bl_t000_v000_a000_f00/images/blank.gif" width="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-115796292486925264?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2006/09/belgium.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>1</thr:total></item><item><guid isPermaLink='false'>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31799639.post-115703652643219937</guid><pubDate>Thu, 31 Aug 2006 14:28:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2006-09-01T09:39:37.830+01:00</atom:updated><title>Luxembourg</title><description>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Pois é... estou mesmo no centro da Europa, em poucas horas estou noutro país com novas estórias e aventuras para contar...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fui a Luxemburgo!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;E por momentos parecia que estava a passear numa cidade portuguesa. Pela primeira vez em 4 meses tinha que ter cuidado com o que dizia e tinha mesmo que falar mais baixo (lol), não fosse o vizinho do lado perceber o que estava a dizer. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;"&gt;Luxemburgo foi invandida por Portugueses!!! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC01662.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/DSC01662.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC03077.1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/DSC03077.1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;1. A cidade!!! 2. Notre Dame Cathedral &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/MemoireWarSoldiers3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="140" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/MemoireWarSoldiers3.jpg" width="189" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/Palace2.0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/Palace2.0.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;3. War Soldiers Memorial 4. Luxembourg Palace &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC03093.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/DSC03093.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/23-07-06_0325.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 196px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 152px" height="135" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/23-07-06_0325.jpg" width="170" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;5. Finalmente um banco Português (CGD)!!! 6. à noite!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/DSC01669.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="133" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/DSC01669.jpg" width="183" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/Lake.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 182px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 133px" height="128" alt="" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/200/Lake.jpg" width="175" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/23-07-06_0325.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photos1.blogger.com/blogger/476/3465/1600/23-07-06_0325.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Courier New;"&gt;7. O Grupo 8. Antes de voltar para a confusão de Amesterdão, uma última paragem... para um banho!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/31799639-115703652643219937?l=badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</description><link>http://badgirlsgotoamsterdam.blogspot.com/2006/08/luxembourg.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (Ana Campos)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'>0</thr:total></item></channel></rss>