<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101</id><updated>2011-04-21T20:48:07.845Z</updated><title type='text'>POLARIS</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>110</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-6262887153313614010</id><published>2008-10-08T18:52:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-10-08T19:12:20.305Z</updated><title type='text'>ciclo de filmes do círculo: en frusen dröm.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SO0CaNLO8HI/AAAAAAAAAzM/vSgJ2hdhokg/s1600-h/Picture+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SO0CaNLO8HI/AAAAAAAAAzM/vSgJ2hdhokg/s320/Picture+3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5254858989447868530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0123850/"&gt;En Frusen Dröm / A Frozen Dream&lt;/a&gt;: Jan Troell, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Suécia, 1997, 58 min&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A história deste &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sonho Congelado&lt;/span&gt;, já escrita no Polaris, pode ser lida, &lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/07/histria-de-andre-completa.html"&gt;aqui&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-6262887153313614010?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/6262887153313614010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=6262887153313614010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6262887153313614010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6262887153313614010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/10/ciclo-de-filmes-do-crculo-en-frusen-drm.html' title='ciclo de filmes do círculo: en frusen dröm.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SO0CaNLO8HI/AAAAAAAAAzM/vSgJ2hdhokg/s72-c/Picture+3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-4470401420054428125</id><published>2008-09-08T09:22:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-09-08T09:22:02.791Z</updated><title type='text'>fantásticos espaços do círculo: o mar das palavras congeladas.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Mar situado nos confins dos mares gelados do norte. No inverno, congelam-se todas as palavras e sons da região. Passados os rigores da estação, chegada a serenidade e a doçura do bom tempo, as palavras começam a derreter e conseguem ouvir-se claramente. Os viajantes podem apanhar do solo as palavras congeladas, parecidas com dragueias multicolores.&lt;br /&gt;Num certo verão, um tal de Pantagruel cruzava o Mar e escutou os ruídos de uma batalha entre os Arimáspios e os Refilebates ou "o povo que caminha pelas nuvens"; porém, tal batalha tinha ocorrido no início do inverno anterior.&lt;br /&gt;(François Rabelais, Le Quart Livre des Faicts et Dicts du Bon Pantagruel, Paris, 1552)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Breve Guía de Lugares Imaginarios, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alberto Manguel e  Gianni Guadalupi, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ed. Gran Bolsillo, Alianza Editorial, 1980, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;página 452.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-4470401420054428125?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/4470401420054428125/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=4470401420054428125' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4470401420054428125'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4470401420054428125'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/09/fantsticos-espaos-do-crculo-o-mar-das.html' title='fantásticos espaços do círculo: o mar das palavras congeladas.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-9027106088059672101</id><published>2008-09-01T14:15:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-09-01T14:15:00.250Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso: wrangel, sibéria.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SLnxWYcw-tI/AAAAAAAAAys/yWCAnprSQ1Q/s1600-h/wrangel3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SLnxWYcw-tI/AAAAAAAAAys/yWCAnprSQ1Q/s400/wrangel3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240485008244800210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Ilha de &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wrangel_Island"&gt;Wrangel&lt;/a&gt;, Sibéria.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fotografia: © DR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SLnw8AqkGxI/AAAAAAAAAyk/yagvBYuHXL4/s1600-h/wrangel_island_landscapes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SLnw8AqkGxI/AAAAAAAAAyk/yagvBYuHXL4/s400/wrangel_island_landscapes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240484555183627026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Ilha de &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wrangel_Island"&gt;Wrangel&lt;/a&gt;, Sibéria.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fotografia: © Alexei Butorin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-9027106088059672101?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/9027106088059672101/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=9027106088059672101' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/9027106088059672101'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/9027106088059672101'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/09/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-wrangel.html' title='postais do círculo do urso: wrangel, sibéria.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SLnxWYcw-tI/AAAAAAAAAys/yWCAnprSQ1Q/s72-c/wrangel3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-2019924447296107961</id><published>2008-09-01T14:09:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-09-01T14:09:00.609Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso: wrangell, alaska.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SLnwgjLjqWI/AAAAAAAAAyc/ldXRndpSeEQ/s1600-h/wrangell_1914.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SLnwgjLjqWI/AAAAAAAAAyc/ldXRndpSeEQ/s400/wrangell_1914.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5240484083412478306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wrangell,_Alaska"&gt;Wrangell&lt;/a&gt;, Alaska, circa 1914.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fotografia: © DR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-2019924447296107961?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/2019924447296107961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=2019924447296107961' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2019924447296107961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2019924447296107961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/09/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-wrangell.html' title='postais do círculo do urso: wrangell, alaska.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SLnwgjLjqWI/AAAAAAAAAyc/ldXRndpSeEQ/s72-c/wrangell_1914.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-2576060459875715921</id><published>2008-07-16T20:15:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-07-16T20:15:00.142Z</updated><title type='text'>citação</title><content type='html'>"He who really wants to admire nature must observe her in her extremes... In the Poles, where her nakedness magnifies and illuminates her grandiose internal structure... Neither distracted nor influenced by the elementary, one's attention can here be focused wholly on the very forces of nature".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karl_Weyprecht"&gt;Karl Weyprecht&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-2576060459875715921?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/2576060459875715921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=2576060459875715921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2576060459875715921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2576060459875715921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/07/citao.html' title='citação'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-8458695808784233502</id><published>2008-07-13T20:10:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-07-13T20:10:00.198Z</updated><title type='text'>canções dos mares frios.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SHEmtTp8D4I/AAAAAAAAAtc/ryIX6NH3uUc/s1600-h/R-83093-001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SHEmtTp8D4I/AAAAAAAAAtc/ryIX6NH3uUc/s400/R-83093-001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219996002911260546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Songs From The Cold Seas, direcção de Hector Zazou, Columbia, 1994.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Annuka Suaren Neito - Varttina &lt;br /&gt;2. Visur Vatnsenda-Rosu - Bjork &lt;br /&gt;3. The Long Voyage - Suzanne Vega/John Cale &lt;br /&gt;4. Havet Stomar - Lena Willemark &lt;br /&gt;5. Adventures In The Scandinavian Skin Trade - Vimme Saari &lt;br /&gt;6. She's Like A Swallow - Jane Siberry &lt;br /&gt;7. The Lighthouse - Siouxsie  &lt;br /&gt;8. Oran Na Maighdean Mhara - Catherine-Ann MacPhee &lt;br /&gt;9. Yaisa Maneena - Tokiko Kato &lt;br /&gt;10. Yakut Song - Lioudmila Khandi &lt;br /&gt;11. Song Of The Water - Kilabuk And Nooveya&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-8458695808784233502?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/8458695808784233502/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=8458695808784233502' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8458695808784233502'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8458695808784233502'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/07/canes-dos-mares-frios.html' title='canções dos mares frios.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SHEmtTp8D4I/AAAAAAAAAtc/ryIX6NH3uUc/s72-c/R-83093-001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-3690281306931518938</id><published>2008-07-06T17:04:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-07-06T17:12:48.294Z</updated><title type='text'>a menos 51º.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img alt="http://www.pagina12.com.ar/fotos/turismo/20080203/notas_t/rus1.jpg" src="http://www.pagina12.com.ar/fotos/turismo/20080203/notas_t/rus1.jpg" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%; font-style: italic;"&gt;© &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Sergey Maximishin / El País&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;El lugar más frío de la Tierra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Andreas Albes, in &lt;a href="http://www.elpais.com/global/"&gt;El País&lt;/a&gt; Semanal,  13/01/2008&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Cuando los pescadores de &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oymyakon"&gt;Oymyakon&lt;/a&gt;, en Rusia, extraen un pez de las aguas cubiertas de hielo, bastan 30 segundos para que esté congelado: tieso como una tabla. Aquí la leche no sabe de estado líquido: sólo se vende en bloques helados de color mármol. A partir de 52 grados bajo cero dan día libre en la escuela, y el gran acontecimiento del año es el Festival del Polo de Frío. Entonces, Dschis Chan, el señor del invierno yakuto, encarnado por el profesor de gimnasia de la localidad, invita a sus colegas Padrecito Invierno de Moscú y Santa Claus de Finlandia a comer filetes de reno y a ponerse ciegos de vodka. La última vez, Santa Claus casi echa a perder la fiesta porque se bebió nada menos que 10 botellas en 48 horas para combatir el frío. Oymyakon es el polo helado de la Tierra; en 1926 alcanzó la temperatura más baja registrada jamás en territorio habitado: 71,2 grados bajo el punto de congelación. La localidad está situada en el noreste de Rusia, en una meseta a 750 metros sobre el nivel del mar: allí donde el invierno dura como mínimo nueve meses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pues bien, para alcanzar este lugar irreal aguantamos (es noviembre) a 34 grados bajo cero en el aeropuerto de Jakutsk, esperando a que por fin se abra la puerta del avión, que se ha congelado por completo. A bordo del aparato de hélice, con cortinas azul claro en las ventanillas, los pasajeros llevan botas de piel de reno. La azafata reparte periódicos. Y en ellos se lee que, en algún lugar de las montañas, un criador de renos resultó gravemente herido al caer del caballo y tuvo que esperar semanas a que acudieran en su ayuda, así que en el ínterin se amputó él mismo los dedos de los pies helados con un cuchillo de monte y logró sobrevivir. La foto muestra a un nativo típico, menudo y vigoroso, de cara pálida, mejillas redondas, nariz chata y ojos que asoman por unas ranuras diminutas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dos horas y media después aterrizamos en Ust-Nera, nido de buscadores de oro, donde la temperatura alcanza los 42 grados bajo cero. Son poco más de las tres de la tarde y el sol ya se pone por el horizonte. Proseguimos viaje en un microbús con cristales dobles, fijados con cinta adhesiva, que impiden que se forme una gruesa capa de hielo en el interior. Cuando Vladímir Putin visitó la región, el gobierno local avisó de que no se les ocurriera mandar por avión un Mercedes oficial sin doble acristalamiento. El Kremlin ignoró la recomendación y el coche del presidente no pasó de la primera valla publicitaria, justo detrás del aeropuerto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kolya, nuestro chófer, tiene una fina barba a lo Gengis Jan. Tras cuatro horas salvando baches y ríos helados, nos anuncia: “A partir de aquí se acabó la carretera en buen estado”. Seguimos por la autopista de Kolyma, la vía que Stalin hizo construir utilizando presos como mano de obra para poder explotar las riquezas naturales de Yakutia, sobre todo el oro. Cada 30 kilómetros había un gulag. La mayoría de los presos moría al cabo de tres meses. Se les enterraba bajo la calzada. Y punto. “Aquí yace un muerto cada cuatro metros”, nos explica Kolya. Por eso la autopista de Kolyma también se llama “carretera de los huesos”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Llegamos a Oymyakon hacia las tres de la madrugada, a 51 grados bajo cero. Por debajo de menos 45 grados, la gasolina se congela, y por eso Kolya nunca apaga el motor de nuestro autobús. El frío quema como si uno se hubiera embadurnado la cara con una pomada para activar la circulación; la primera bocanada de aire casi revienta los pulmones, y al cabo de medio minuto la nariz está entumecida. Kolya nos asegura que eso no es nada. “A partir de los 64 grados bajo cero, uno puede oír cómo se hiela el aliento, siente cada hueso del cuerpo como si estuviera congelado y los escupitajos aterrizan en el suelo en estado sólido”. A semejante temperatura no hay prenda en el mundo que pueda mantenerle a uno caliente más de 15 minutos. Oymyakon debe su clima extremo a las cadenas montañosas que la rodean, y que impiden que escapen las pesadas masas de aire frío que cubren el valle como si fueran de plomo. Aquí impera una calma chicha todo el año. Eso hace que el frío sea relativamente soportable y permite que la temperatura alcance en verano los 35 grados.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Una vez que ha amanecido, tampoco se ve gente por la calle; las columnas de humo se elevan derechas como una vela por encima de las casas sobre un cielo sin nubes, y las antenas parabólicas permiten adivinar a qué se dedica la mayoría de sus moradores. La localidad cuenta con 2.300 habitantes; la mayor parte vive como hace cien años, televisión aparte. En lugar de cuartos de baño, levantan en el jardín unas barracas de madera sin calefacción, y bloques de hielo ante la puerta sustituyen el agua corriente. Hay un par de teléfonos privados, y sólo tienen radio los que pueden permitírselo. “El más mísero de los trabajos es el de criador de caballos”, comenta Fiodor. Él es uno de ellos. Con el cuerpo oculto bajo varias capas de pantalones y chaquetas, y con una gigantesca gorra de piel de zorro en la cabeza, está ahí plantado en un prado en las afueras, con pinta entre yeti y astronauta. Los criadores, explica, se pasan el día al aire libre porque los famosos caballos salvajes yakutos, que se sienten especialmente a gusto en esta estepa, desprecian cualquier tipo de establo. Devoran nieve y la hierba bajo ella.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A pesar de que estos animales tienen una pinta inofensiva, con sus patas cortas y su pellejo hirsuto, lo cierto es que sólo se dejan domesticar a regañadientes. Al intentar juntar la manada, Fiodor es derribado por su semental en dos ocasiones. Patalea tumbado boca arriba, sin poder ponerse en pie, envuelto en sus gruesos ropajes. Los caballos salvajes de Oymyakon se han utilizado incluso en expediciones al Polo por su resistencia. Fiodor prefiere sacrificarlos porque su carne grasienta está repleta de vitaminas y se considera una exquisitez. La mayoría de los habitantes de Oymyakon vive de la caza de martas y liebres, o bien crían vacas y renos. La única industria es una pequeña fá­brica de leche que deja de funcionar en octubre. El invierno es demasiado frío para las vacas, así que no dan leche, y los campesinos cubren las ubres de los animales con sacos de piel para que no se enfríen. De todos modos, la leche no se echa a perder: se conserva congelada en los sótanos, a un metro bajo tierra, donde reina una temperatura constante entre 10 y 15 grados todo el año.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Los suelos de Yakutia sólo se deshielan superficialmente de junio a agosto, y quedan cubiertos por una capa de fango que hace prácticamente imposible instalar vías de ferrocarril. Los edificios de cemento de gran tamaño han de construirse sobre pilotes, que se hincan en la tierra a varios metros de profundidad para que no se hundan. Pero en Oymyakon no hay otra cosa que cabañas de madera. El suelo es extraordinariamente fértil, y en verano, la naturaleza literalmente estalla. Pero el lodo alberga también millones de larvas de mosquitos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;En la era soviética, el valle era famoso porque en él vivían algunos de los hombres más ancianos del país. El mayor era Fiodor Arnosov, un cazador que murió en 1967 a los 109 años. El doctor Innokenti Novgorodov, que trabaja en la pequeña policlínica, nos cuenta que antes sólo sobrevivían los niños más fuertes y sanos. La tasa de mortalidad infantil era enorme, y las mujeres traían al mundo hasta 18 hijos. Además, la gente no bebía alcohol porque no había ningún supermercado que vendiera vodka, y tampoco se pasaba la vida sentada delante del televisor. El doctor Novgorodov lleva unas gruesas botas de fieltro bajo la bata blanca, los dedos le tiemblan un poco. Tiene 71 años. La asistente sanitaria que trabaja con él tiene 72. El partido le destinó a Oymyakon hace décadas, rememora sin pesar; pero hoy día la cosa ya no funciona así, y por eso resulta difícil encontrar a quien les reemplace. Por otro lado, uno no puede hacer nada por los pacientes. El pequeño hospital de paredes azul claro resplandece de puro limpio, pero faltan medicamentos, sobre todo antibióticos, y no hay ni sala de operaciones, ni un aparato de rayos X. Las 11 camas están ocupadas en su mayoría por enfermos de cáncer a los que no pueden –o no quieren– ayudar en ningún otro sitio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Novgorodov nos cuenta que hace poco encargó que llevaran en microbús a Ust-Nera a una mujer de 37 años con cáncer de hígado; una vez allí, los médicos decidieron que había que enviarla al hospital central de Jakutsk. Pero en lugar de subirla a un avión, la mandaron de vuelta a Oymyakon. De allí salió de nuevo el microbús rumbo a Jakutsk siguiendo la ruta directa, un viaje de 35 horas. La mujer murió en el camino. Novgorodov se encoge de hombros. En la vasta Siberia, una vida no cuenta demasiado.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yakutia es la república rusa más grande en lo que a superficie se refiere: tres millones de kilómetros cuadrados, unas seis veces España. Además es una de las regiones más ricas de la Tierra: posee reservas de platino, plata, uranio, minerales con contenido metálico, carbón, petróleo, gas… El 40% del oro ruso se extrae de Yakutia, así como uno de cada cinco diamantes del planeta. Pero sus 950.000 habitantes (densidad: 0,31) viven apenas por encima del mínimo de subsistencia; toda la riqueza va a parar a Moscú.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Los yakutos son un pueblo turco que ha seguido hablando su propio idioma hasta nuestros días. Colonizaron Siberia en el siglo XIV desde el Baikal, pero luego los rusos los fueron desplazando a regiones cada vez más septentrionales. Así es como llegaron a Oymyakon en 1640. El valle parecía ideal para establecerse, puesto que el río Indigirka no llega a congelarse ni con las más duras heladas debido a la gran velocidad a que circulan sus aguas. En la II Guerra Mundial, Oymyakon cobró importancia estratégica, pues repostaban los bombarderos estadounidenses que atacaban Alemania por el este. Pero una vez concluida la era soviética, el aeródromo quedó abandonado y fue convirtiéndose en una ruina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;El subteniente Smirnov nos recibe en el negociado de la milicia, sentado bajo un retrato al óleo de Iósif Stalin. Smirnov es uno de los tres policías de la localidad; nació aquí hace 32 años. “Oymyakon le debe mucho a Stalin”, comenta. Sin él no habría existido la autopista de Kolyma, y probablemente la localidad habría permanecido aislada del mundo exterior hasta hoy. Muchos piensan igual, a pesar de haber perdido parientes en los gulags. La porra de Smirnov se balancea colgada en el ropero. No consigue recordar cuándo la utilizó por última vez. Aquí la mayoría de los delitos están vinculados al alcohol; cada pocos años se comete un homicidio. Pero las vecinas dan bastante que hacer: se denuncian constantemente; por ejemplo, porque la vaca de una se ha zampado la ropa tendida de la otra. Gracias a Dios, rara vez hay accidentes. Hace no mucho, un agricultor se cayó en la carretera y no vio un rebaño de renos que se aproximaba. Le arrollaron.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Como ocurre por doquier en la provincia rusa, aquí también se escucha a menudo la frase “en la Unión Soviética vivíamos mejor”. De hecho, había vuelos en helicóptero a Jakutsk dos veces por semana, e incluso un cine. Nadie sentía la tentación de marcharse lejos porque se intuía que en cualquier otro sitio las cosas tampoco eran mucho mejores. Pero ahora todo el mundo ve por televisión cómo se vive de Moscú a Malibú, y se da cuenta de que Oymyakon no sólo es la provincia, sino el verdadero fin del mundo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La escuela no ha tenido nunca calefacción en condiciones hasta el año pasado, los niños daban clase con el abrigo puesto. Son 300; hacia finales de la era soviética sumaban aún 400. Los jóvenes sueñan con tener un café, móviles, un cibercafé o que la discoteca de la escuela vuelva a funcionar. Pero, desgraciadamente, el equipo estéreo lleva años estropeado. Al menos, la Casa de la Cultura organiza veladas de baile una vez por semana con música de Boney M o, como este mismo sábado, un concierto de guimbardas con concurso de canto incluido.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;La sala sin ventanas está abarrotada. Bajo los abrigos de piel se asoman minifaldas y alguna que otra camiseta que deja el ombligo al aire. Las botas de reno han sido sustituidas por tacones altos. Los hombres llevan corbata. Los jóvenes rebosan optimismo, todos planean hacer carrera como abogados, médicos o managers. Pero –nos cuenta Saina, de 16 años– las mujeres deben casarse, tener hijos y estar de vuelta en Oymyakon como mucho antes de los 24.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;El depositario de las esperanzas de la localidad es un hombre que los lugareños llaman con orgullo su “oligarca”. Alexander Krylov, de 33 años, alto, delgado, nacido aquí de padre médico, reunió un pequeño patrimonio comerciando con material de construcción en Jakutsk y luego regresó. Tiene seis hijos de tres mujeres y una visión: traer turistas. Para ello ha creado el Festival del Polo de Frío y la elección de Miss Polo de Frío. Además ha construido el primer hotel con agua corriente caliente en cada una de sus 10 habitaciones. Y lo cierto es que han venido turistas. Ilse y Elke, por ejemplo, dos jubiladas europeas de las que aún se habla en el valle, porque hasta entonces los lugareños sólo habían visto vegetarianos en la tele. O el actor de Hollywood Ewan McGregor, que llegó a lomos de su motocicleta en verano.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Incluso un jeque de carne y hueso se acercó el pasado febrero. Caminaba pesadamente por la nieve envuelto en ropajes blancos, e insistió en que le pusieran un sello en el pasaporte en la Administración municipal como prueba de que había estado realmente en el polo de frío. Su alteza, propietario de los más nobles purasangres, arrugó la nariz al contemplar los desgreñados caballos salvajes paticortos. Debieron parecerle poco menos que burros gordos. Pero cuando le explicaron que habían participado en la expedición al Polo Norte, decidió comprar uno por 1.000 dólares. Inspeccionó la pista de aterrizaje de la II Guerra Mundial y anunció que enviaría un avión a recoger al animal. Desde entonces, en Oymyakon esperan la llegada del primer avión privado procedente de Dubai.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-3690281306931518938?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/3690281306931518938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=3690281306931518938' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3690281306931518938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3690281306931518938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/07/menos-51.html' title='a menos 51º.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-8495911308091075962</id><published>2008-07-06T16:59:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-07-06T17:02:36.871Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 18 - baía de disko, gronelândia.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SHD6CGduliI/AAAAAAAAAs8/mTEEENAe8mU/s1600-h/+Lynn+Davis,+Iceberg+31,+Ba%C3%ADa+de+Disko,+Gronel%C3%A2ndia2000.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SHD6CGduliI/AAAAAAAAAs8/mTEEENAe8mU/s400/+Lynn+Davis,+Iceberg+31,+Ba%C3%ADa+de+Disko,+Gronel%C3%A2ndia2000.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5219946882124387874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Iceberg 31, Disko Bay &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%; font-style: italic;"&gt;© &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Lynn Davis, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%; font-style: italic;"&gt;2000.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-8495911308091075962?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/8495911308091075962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=8495911308091075962' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8495911308091075962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8495911308091075962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/07/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-18-baa-de.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 18 - baía de disko, gronelândia.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/SHD6CGduliI/AAAAAAAAAs8/mTEEENAe8mU/s72-c/+Lynn+Davis,+Iceberg+31,+Ba%C3%ADa+de+Disko,+Gronel%C3%A2ndia2000.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-4918545205782102265</id><published>2008-05-15T12:03:00.006Z</published><updated>2008-07-06T20:14:48.041Z</updated><title type='text'>in a far country.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.huntington.org/LibraryDiv/LibraryPix/JackLondonjackeastend.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 265px;" src="http://www.huntington.org/LibraryDiv/LibraryPix/JackLondonjackeastend.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Jack London &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;© &lt;/span&gt;DR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"When a man journeys into a far country, he must be prepared  to &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;forget many of the things he has learned&lt;/span&gt;, and to acquire such  customs as are inherent with existence in the new land; he must  abandon the old ideals and the old gods, and oftentimes he must  reverse the very codes by which his conduct has hitherto been  shaped. (...) The man who turns his back upon the comforts of an elder civilization, to face the savage youth, the primordial simplicity of the North, may estimate success at an inverse ratio to the quantity and quality of his hopelessly fixed habits.  He will soon discover, if he be a fit candidate, that the material habits are the less important. (...) &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the courtesies of ordinary life, he must substitute unselfishness, forbearance, and tolerance.  Thus, and thus only, can he gain that pearl of great price, -- true comradeship&lt;/span&gt;.  He must not say "Thank you;" he must mean it without opening his mouth, and prove it by responding in kind.  In short, &lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;he must substitute the deed for the word, the spirit for the letter&lt;/span&gt;."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jack London, &lt;a href="http://london.sonoma.edu/Writings/SonWolf/country.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;In a Far Country&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Overland Monthly&lt;/span&gt;, vol. 33, Junho de 189&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;9&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-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/3740785517890142101-4918545205782102265?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/4918545205782102265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=4918545205782102265' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4918545205782102265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4918545205782102265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/05/in-far-country.html' title='in a far country.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-7185240256219110992</id><published>2008-04-30T11:20:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-04-30T11:30:11.284Z</updated><title type='text'>api.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Desde dois mil e seis que, quase paralelamente a este Polaris, existe o &lt;a href="http://latitude60.blogspot.com/"&gt;Latitude 60&lt;/a&gt; - um blog educativo sobre - e para - o &lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/02/o-ano-polar-internacional.html"&gt;Ano Internacional Polar&lt;/a&gt;. É um projecto do &lt;a href="http://anopolar.no.sapo.pt/"&gt;Comité Português para o API&lt;/a&gt;, com a coordenação de Adelino Canário, Gonçalo Vieira, José Xavier e Clara Rocha Santos.&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/3740785517890142101-7185240256219110992?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/7185240256219110992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=7185240256219110992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7185240256219110992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7185240256219110992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/04/api.html' title='api.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-6802532605078451810</id><published>2008-04-18T20:57:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-04-18T21:17:37.333Z</updated><title type='text'>pólo pittoresco.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Os feitos de &lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/02/balada-de-john-franklin.html"&gt;John Franklin&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_McClure"&gt;Robert McClure&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a href="http://www.biographi.ca/EN/ShowBio.asp?BioId=38245"&gt;Edward Parry&lt;/a&gt;, as observações de &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Scoresby"&gt;Scoresby&lt;/a&gt; e um &lt;em&gt;Conto Americano&lt;/em&gt; são descritos e escritos por &lt;a href="http://www.ancruzeiros.pt/ancpassagem-linha1.html"&gt;Francisco Maria Bordalo&lt;/a&gt; no &lt;a href="http://addgaleria.blogspot.com/2008/04/o-archivo-pittoresco.html"&gt;Archivo Pittoresco&lt;/a&gt; dos anos de mil oitocentos e cinquenta e sete e mil oitocentos e cinquenta e oito. A visão da época de acontecimentos da época para ler hoje, cerca de cento e cinquenta anos depois.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://addgaleria.blogspot.com/2008/04/o-archivo-pittoresco.html"&gt;Archivo Pittoresco (breve história)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/04/franklin-o-navegador.html"&gt;Franklin, O Navegador&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/04/o-capito-mac-clure.html"&gt;O Capitão Mac-Clure&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/04/eduardo-parry.html"&gt;Eduardo Parry&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/04/os-animaes-nas-regies-arcticas.html"&gt;Animaes nas Regiões Arcticas&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/04/conto-americano.html"&gt;Conto Americano&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/3740785517890142101-6802532605078451810?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/6802532605078451810/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=6802532605078451810' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6802532605078451810'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6802532605078451810'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/04/plo-pittoresco.html' title='pólo pittoresco.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-5834327334768571088</id><published>2008-04-18T20:06:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-04-18T21:11:08.625Z</updated><title type='text'>conto americano.</title><content type='html'>Texto de Francisco Maria Bordalo, publicado no &lt;em&gt;Archivo Pittoresco, Volume I, 1857-1858.&lt;/em&gt; Clicar nas imagens para alargar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/11A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/11A.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/12A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/12A.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-5834327334768571088?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/5834327334768571088/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=5834327334768571088' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5834327334768571088'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5834327334768571088'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/04/conto-americano.html' title='conto americano.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-4232988760771317483</id><published>2008-04-18T20:05:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-04-18T21:11:01.241Z</updated><title type='text'>os animaes nas regiões arcticas.</title><content type='html'>Texto publicado no &lt;em&gt;Archivo Pittoresco, Volume I, 1857-1858&lt;/em&gt;. Clicar na imagem para alargar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/9A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/9A.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&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/3740785517890142101-4232988760771317483?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/4232988760771317483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=4232988760771317483' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4232988760771317483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4232988760771317483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/04/os-animaes-nas-regies-arcticas.html' title='os animaes nas regiões arcticas.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-8911018928025259361</id><published>2008-04-18T20:02:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-04-18T21:10:51.392Z</updated><title type='text'>eduardo parry.</title><content type='html'>Texto de Francisco Maria Bordalo, publicado no &lt;em&gt;Archivo Pittoresco, Volume I, 1857-1858&lt;/em&gt;. Clicar nas imagens para alargar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/7A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/7A.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/8A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/8A.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-8911018928025259361?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/8911018928025259361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=8911018928025259361' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8911018928025259361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8911018928025259361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/04/eduardo-parry.html' title='eduardo parry.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-1813278786246001176</id><published>2008-04-18T20:00:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-04-18T21:10:36.884Z</updated><title type='text'>o capitão mac-clure.</title><content type='html'>Texto de Francisco Maria Bordalo, publicado no &lt;em&gt;Archivo Pittoresco, Volume I, 1857-1858&lt;/em&gt;. Clicar nas imagens para alargar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/4A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/4A.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/5A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/5A.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/6A.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/6A.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-1813278786246001176?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/1813278786246001176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=1813278786246001176' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1813278786246001176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1813278786246001176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/04/o-capito-mac-clure.html' title='o capitão mac-clure.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-761335391629496969</id><published>2008-04-18T19:32:00.003Z</published><updated>2008-04-18T21:10:28.712Z</updated><title type='text'>franklin, o navegador.</title><content type='html'>Texto de Francisco Maria Bordalo, publicado no &lt;em&gt;Archivo Pittoresco, Volume I, 1857-1858&lt;/em&gt;. Clicar nas imagens para alargar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/1A-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/1A-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/2A-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/2A-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/3A-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/3A-1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-761335391629496969?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/761335391629496969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=761335391629496969' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/761335391629496969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/761335391629496969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/04/franklin-o-navegador.html' title='franklin, o navegador.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-6575326103605557981</id><published>2008-03-10T19:41:00.007Z</published><updated>2008-03-10T19:53:26.986Z</updated><title type='text'>a solidão de thomas cave.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R9WRCNovS7I/AAAAAAAAAmw/NwXQDiahbGA/s1600-h/solitude_thomas_cave.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R9WRCNovS7I/AAAAAAAAAmw/NwXQDiahbGA/s320/solitude_thomas_cave.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5176202813938551730" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"In the light of the North distances deceive. The stationary man watches the ship depart so slowly that the steely band of water before it can barely be perceived to extend. The clarity of the Arctic air is such that even when the ship is far off, sails, masts, details stand out sharp to the eye as if they were still close in, and he has the impression that he could yell out and call back a boat long after all on board are out of earshot."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;Georgina Harding&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; The Solitude Of Thomas Cave, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;Bloomsbury, 2007.&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-6575326103605557981?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/6575326103605557981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=6575326103605557981' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6575326103605557981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6575326103605557981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/03/solido-de-thomas-cave.html' title='a solidão de thomas cave.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R9WRCNovS7I/AAAAAAAAAmw/NwXQDiahbGA/s72-c/solitude_thomas_cave.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-4364599271651688118</id><published>2008-03-01T17:55:00.004Z</published><updated>2008-03-01T18:02:54.909Z</updated><title type='text'>o cofre das sementes.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8mY6JU7wVI/AAAAAAAAAmg/iQi2aD9tuVQ/s1600-h/29seeds-span-600.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8mY6JU7wVI/AAAAAAAAAmg/iQi2aD9tuVQ/s320/29seeds-span-600.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5172833771715281234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Fotografia &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;© &lt;/span&gt;Dean C.K. Cox&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.regjeringen.no/en/dep/lmd/campain/svalbard-global-seed-vault.html?id=462220"&gt;Svalbard Global Seed Vault&lt;/a&gt;: as primeiras sementes chegaram a 26 de Fevereiro de 2008.&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/3740785517890142101-4364599271651688118?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/4364599271651688118/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=4364599271651688118' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4364599271651688118'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4364599271651688118'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/03/o-cofre-das-sementes.html' title='o cofre das sementes.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8mY6JU7wVI/AAAAAAAAAmg/iQi2aD9tuVQ/s72-c/29seeds-span-600.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-209079455421233095</id><published>2008-02-24T23:59:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-25T01:00:42.096Z</updated><title type='text'>gjøa haven: o porto mais bonito.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8HzcDXz90I/AAAAAAAAAlI/YrHxz-bCPrA/s1600-h/a31608_127.jpg"&gt;&lt;span style="display: block;" id="formatbar_Buttons"&gt;&lt;span class="on down" style="display: block;" id="formatbar_CreateLink" title="Link" onmouseover="ButtonHoverOn(this);" onmouseout="ButtonHoverOff(this);" onmouseup="" onmousedown="CheckFormatting(event);FormatbarButton('richeditorframe', this, 8);ButtonMouseDown(this);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8HzcDXz90I/AAAAAAAAAlI/YrHxz-bCPrA/s320/a31608_127.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170681510465107778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Gjøa Haven vista do céu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;© &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://airphotos.nrcan.gc.ca/photos101/gjoa_haven_f.php"&gt;Ressources naturelles Canada&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Quando tentava a primeira travessia da Passagem Noroeste, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Roald_Amundsen"&gt;Roald Amundsen&lt;/a&gt; ancorou o seu navio Gjøa, num porto natural no sudeste da Ilha de King William a sesse&lt;span title="Latitude"&gt;nta e oito graus, trinta e sete minutos e cinquenta e seis segundos norte e a noventa e cinco graus, cinquenta e dois minutos e quatro seguntos oeste&lt;/span&gt;. Estávamos em Outubro de mil novecentos e três e os mares tinham começado a congelar. O Gjøa ali acabou por ficar quase dois anos, naquele lugar que Amundsen chamava de “o pequeno porto mais bonito do mundo”. E o lugar tomou-lhe o nome, o Porto de Gjøa. Durante esses dois anos, Amundsen viveu com os Netsilik e aprendeu a viajar, a alimentar-se e a vestir-se segundo os seus métodos. Aprendeu também que Gjøa  Haven se chama Uqsuqtuuq: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;terra de imensa banha&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/3740785517890142101-209079455421233095?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/209079455421233095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=209079455421233095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/209079455421233095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/209079455421233095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/02/gja-haven-o-porto-mais-bonito.html' title='gjøa haven: o porto mais bonito.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8HzcDXz90I/AAAAAAAAAlI/YrHxz-bCPrA/s72-c/a31608_127.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-256335816887025827</id><published>2008-02-24T23:47:00.005Z</published><updated>2008-02-25T00:59:51.426Z</updated><title type='text'>o portão do inferno.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8IS5TXz95I/AAAAAAAAAlw/gzOArTSbfWQ/s1600-h/myths07d.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8IS5TXz95I/AAAAAAAAAlw/gzOArTSbfWQ/s320/myths07d.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170716097836742546" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;O Monte Domen, por Lilienskiold, 1698&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Na minha infância, a história da descoberta do portão do inferno era-me contada vezes e vezes sem conta:&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dizem que&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;é neste para além do mundo chamado Finnmark que fica a entrada para o Inferno. Dizem também que é por isso que este lugar está cheio de bruxas. E que não raras vezes o próprio diabo anda à solta. (...) Lá para os idos de mil seiscentos e sessenta, trinta mulheres foram acusadas de feitiçaria. Dezanove acabaram mesmo queimadas na fogueira porque confessaram que tinham feito uma festa com o Diabo onde beberam, dançaram e celebraram até não poderem mais. E mais disseram até que a festa foi numa montanha chamada Domen e que ali mesmo existia uma entrada para um túnel que ia dar ao inferno.&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8INzjXz94I/AAAAAAAAAlo/82bQyqSvp3Q/s1600-h/myths07d.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://addgaleria.blogspot.com/2007/05/tryggve-thorstved-o-esboo-de-uma.html"&gt;Tryggve Thorstvedt&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://addgaleria.blogspot.com/2007/05/hukommelse-av-arktos-memory-of-arktos.html"&gt;Memory of Arktos&lt;/a&gt;, Ed. Eutron Books, Ltd, 2007.&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/3740785517890142101-256335816887025827?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/256335816887025827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=256335816887025827' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/256335816887025827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/256335816887025827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/02/o-porto-do-inferno.html' title='o portão do inferno.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8IS5TXz95I/AAAAAAAAAlw/gzOArTSbfWQ/s72-c/myths07d.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-7321450052521669180</id><published>2008-02-24T23:13:00.006Z</published><updated>2008-02-24T23:32:06.035Z</updated><title type='text'>arco de parry.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8H9_DXz93I/AAAAAAAAAlg/-c6zRYSbOQc/s1600-h/ee27.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8H9_DXz93I/AAAAAAAAAlg/-c6zRYSbOQc/s320/ee27.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170693106876807026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Arco de Parry&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fotografia: © Martina Wisotzki&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8H8RDXz92I/AAAAAAAAAlY/CRFN9mRt1E4/s1600-h/parry.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8H8RDXz92I/AAAAAAAAAlY/CRFN9mRt1E4/s320/parry.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170691217091196770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;©  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;R. Greenler Rainbows, Halos and  Glories;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Cambridge University Press, 1980&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Oito de Abril de mil oitocentos e vinte. &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Edward_Parry"&gt;William Edward Parry&lt;/a&gt; está a invernar na ilha Melville, no árctico Canadiano. Nas suas observações diárias, constata que o sol lhe aparece com uma moldura feita de um halo brilhante. Parry desenha o que vê. E o que vê recebe o nome de Arco de Parry: uma ilusão óptica causada pela refracção de raios solares por cristais de gelo que flutuam com os seus eixos de simetria na horizontal.&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/3740785517890142101-7321450052521669180?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/7321450052521669180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=7321450052521669180' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7321450052521669180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7321450052521669180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/02/arco-de-parry.html' title='arco de parry.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8H9_DXz93I/AAAAAAAAAlg/-c6zRYSbOQc/s72-c/ee27.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-884652252201208336</id><published>2008-02-24T19:53:00.007Z</published><updated>2008-02-24T20:22:52.472Z</updated><title type='text'>a imagem do círculo (7): barthélemy lauvergne.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8HMsjXz9zI/AAAAAAAAAk8/y29bjmHFSfE/s1600-h/Recherche+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8HMsjXz9zI/AAAAAAAAAk8/y29bjmHFSfE/s320/Recherche+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170638912979466034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Barthélemy Lauvergne: Fra         Smeerenburg-fjorden, 1839&lt;br /&gt;© Nordnorsk Kunstmuseum&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entre mil oitocentos e trinta e oito e mil oitocentos e quarenta, cientistas, artistas e marinheiros deram corpo à expedição La Recherche. Durante dois anos, visitaram o norte da Noruega, as ilhas Faroe, Svalbard e a península de Kola. Barthelémy Lauvergne (mil oitocentos e cinco, mil oitocentos e setenta e um) foi um dos artistas que embarcou nesta viagem ao Círculo Polar. Em &lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/svalbard-histria-repete-se.html"&gt;Svalbard&lt;/a&gt;, pintou este fiorde de &lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/Hulsius.jpg"&gt;Smeerenburg&lt;/a&gt;.&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/3740785517890142101-884652252201208336?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/884652252201208336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=884652252201208336' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/884652252201208336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/884652252201208336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/02/imagem-do-crculo-7-barthlemy-lauvergne_24.html' title='a imagem do círculo (7): barthélemy lauvergne.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8HMsjXz9zI/AAAAAAAAAk8/y29bjmHFSfE/s72-c/Recherche+2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-1745118960551134564</id><published>2008-02-24T19:30:00.005Z</published><updated>2008-02-24T23:44:18.337Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 17 - honningsvåg, noruega.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8HGWjXz9yI/AAAAAAAAAk0/-4s3W8pgyko/s1600-h/Honningsv%C3%A5g2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8HGWjXz9yI/AAAAAAAAAk0/-4s3W8pgyko/s320/Honningsv%C3%A5g2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170631937952577314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Honningsvåg, Noruega, céu de inverno a 70° 58' N.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Fotografia: © Janter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;janter&gt;&lt;/janter&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/3740785517890142101-1745118960551134564?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/1745118960551134564/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=1745118960551134564' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1745118960551134564'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1745118960551134564'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/02/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-17.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 17 - honningsvåg, noruega.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8HGWjXz9yI/AAAAAAAAAk0/-4s3W8pgyko/s72-c/Honningsv%C3%A5g2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-8615782184740258099</id><published>2008-02-24T19:27:00.002Z</published><updated>2008-02-24T19:29:16.787Z</updated><title type='text'>ciclo de filmes do círculo: ice station zebra.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8HFMzXz9xI/AAAAAAAAAks/BBdVTnN7DNE/s1600-h/Picture+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8HFMzXz9xI/AAAAAAAAAks/BBdVTnN7DNE/s320/Picture+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5170630670937224978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0063121/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ice Station Zebra&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;: John Sturges&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, EUA, 1968, 148 minutos.&lt;/span&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/3740785517890142101-8615782184740258099?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/8615782184740258099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=8615782184740258099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8615782184740258099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8615782184740258099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/02/ciclo-de-filmes-do-crculo-ice-station.html' title='ciclo de filmes do círculo: ice station zebra.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R8HFMzXz9xI/AAAAAAAAAks/BBdVTnN7DNE/s72-c/Picture+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-1092143750455647424</id><published>2008-02-21T15:21:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-02-21T13:40:08.236Z</updated><title type='text'>fantásticos espaços do círculo: pólo norte autêntico</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Segundo Adam Jeffson, que ali chegou a 13 de Abril de certo ano, para lá do Círculo Árctico vêem-se, dispersos no gelo, pedaços de rocha ou minerais ferruginosos com incrustações de pedras preciosas. Jeffson supõe que tais pedras são meteoritos atraídos àquele lugar por força do magnetismo polar. Aparentemente, o frio impediria que ardessem quando cruzassem a nossa atmosfera. Outras razões invocadas para justificar a sua presença naquele ponto do globo foram uma força da gravidade muito mais forte e uma densidade atmosférica mais baixa em toda a região que explicaria, também, o achatamento da Terra.&lt;br /&gt;O Pólo Norte Autêntico está ocupado por um lago perfeitamente circular, de quase uma milha de diâmetro, em cujo centro se ergue uma coluna de gelo baixa e maciça que contém, segundo Jeffson, um nome escrito com letras que nenhum homem poderá jamais ler e, debaixo do nome, uma data. Jeffson crê que com o líquido que gira de este a oeste em torno da coluna numa espécie de êxtase trémulo e acompanhado por um lânguido rumor de alas e cascadas, gira todo o planeta. Sugere que tal líquido é o alimento de um ser vivo, de muitos olhos, indolente e triste, que dá voltas em círculo para toda a eternidade numa cavidade subterrânea e vibrante, mantendo os seus olhos constantemente cravados no nome a na data descritos.&lt;br /&gt;Jeffson chegou ao Pólo Norte sozinho, depois de passar por vicissitudes terríveis, que o fizeram perder todos os seus companheiros de viagem. As crónicas da descoberta de outro Pólo Norte, por parte de dois exploradores norte americanos, o Dr Frederick Albert Cook (1865-1940) e o contra-almirante Robert Edwin Peary (1856-1920), não são mais que ficções.&lt;br /&gt;(Matthew Phipps Shiel, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/files/11229/11229-h/11229-h.htm"&gt;The Purple Cloud&lt;/a&gt;, NYC, 1901)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Breve Guía de Lugares Imaginarios, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alberto Manguel e  Gianni Guadalupi, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ed. Gran Bolsillo, Alianza Editorial, 1980, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;página 480.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-1092143750455647424?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/1092143750455647424/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=1092143750455647424' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1092143750455647424'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1092143750455647424'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/01/fantsticos-espaos-do-crculo-plo-norte.html' title='fantásticos espaços do círculo: pólo norte autêntico'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-2799678700235776356</id><published>2008-02-18T21:59:00.020Z</published><updated>2008-02-25T01:10:43.540Z</updated><title type='text'>a balada de john franklin.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;UM&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Na Primavera de mil oitocentos e cinquenta, um grupo de caçadores inuítes cruza-se com cerca de quarenta homens brancos que rumam para sul pela paisagem gelada. Os inuítes alimentam-nos com pedaços de carne de foca em troca de vários utensílios. Ficam a saber que os navios dos brancos tinham encalhado e que não podiam navegar mais. Todos acampam juntos e os inuítes explicam aos brancos para onde ir. No dia seguinte, seguem o seu rumo.&lt;br /&gt;Quatro anos depois, quarenta homens ainda caminhavam à deriva na branca paisagem. Sem mapas, sem comida, sem nada. À deriva, para sul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oM4jXz9nI/AAAAAAAAAjc/E-8pXJ3T4mc/s1600-h/et.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oM4jXz9nI/AAAAAAAAAjc/E-8pXJ3T4mc/s320/et.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168457688068388466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;HMS Erebus e HMS Terror      © DR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;DOIS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Os navios chamavam-se Erebus e Terror. Em mil oitocentos e quarenta e cinco, partiram de Greenhithe para Aberdeen e daí para a Gronelândia. O objectivo era, como quase todas as explorações que rumavam àqueles lados, encontrar a Passagem Noroeste. A vinte e seis de Julho de mil oitocentos e quarenta e cinco, cruzaram-se com o baleeiro Prince of Wales no canal de Lancaster. Nunca mais foram vistos. Durante anos, ninguém soube ao certo o que lhes aconteceu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oMcTXz9kI/AAAAAAAAAjE/0j-kiPehwvk/s1600-h/c001352.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oMcTXz9kI/AAAAAAAAAjE/0j-kiPehwvk/s320/c001352.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168457202737083970" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Franklin"&gt;Sir John Franklin &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;TRÊS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Sir John Franklin já era velho para tão frias andanças. Aos cinquenta e nove anos ninguém se aventura a descobrir a Passagem Noroeste. Para trás, duas viagens ao Árctico. Em mil oitocentos e dezanove, acabou a comer o couro das próprias botas. Em mil oitocentos e vinte e três, explorou com sucesso as costas do Mar de Beaufort. Em todas, Sir John Franklin nunca usou as roupas dos nativos inuítes. Há coisas que um almirante inglês nunca deve fazer. E uma delas é despir a sua farda. Sir John Franklin era um grande capitão. Querido por todos os seus cento e vinte e oito homens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oQhDXz9uI/AAAAAAAAAkU/ZM3b1cSq4fo/s1600-h/gleasons-med.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oQhDXz9uI/AAAAAAAAAkU/ZM3b1cSq4fo/s320/gleasons-med.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168461682387973858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;A chefia da &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franklin%27s_Northwest_Passage_expedition_of_1845"&gt;expedição de Franklin&lt;/a&gt;, a partir de daguerreótipos desenhados pela Companhia Gleason's Pictorial Drawing-Room.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oQhDXz9uI/AAAAAAAAAkU/ZM3b1cSq4fo/s1600-h/gleasons-med.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;QUATRO&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Um ano depois da partida, os gelos de Setembro cercam e esmagam o Erebus e o Terror na costa noroeste da ilha de King William. A tripulação ali fica, presa e sem saber para onde caminhar, à espera, à espera, à espera.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;CINCO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Na segunda feira, vinte e quatro de Maio de mil oitocentos e quarenta e sete, alguns elementos da tripulação exploraram a ilha de King William. Debaixo de um amontoado de pedras deixaram uma carta descrevendo a localização dos navios e terminando com um encorajador “all well”. Todos tinham o degelo por próximo. Todos criam que os navios iam voltar a navegar. Duas semanas depois, Sir John Franklin morreu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oNFDXz9pI/AAAAAAAAAjs/oxeaE8HT59w/s1600-h/Franklinexpeditionnote.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oNFDXz9pI/AAAAAAAAAjs/oxeaE8HT59w/s320/Franklinexpeditionnote.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168457902816753298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;A carta da &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King_William_Island"&gt;ilha de King William&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;SEIS&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Passa-se quase um ano e a tripulação do Erebus e do Terror regressa àquele preciso lugar. Nas margens da mesma carta, o Capitão Fitzjames acrescenta “estando o Erebus e o Terror imobilizados pelo gelo desde 12 de Setembro de 1846, a tripulação, composta por 105 almas sob o comando do capitão F. M. R. Crozier, decidiu abandonar os navios a 22 de Abril de 1848”, depois de esperar quase dois anos pela sua libertação. A adenda, datada de vinte e cinco de Abril de mil oitocentos e quarenta e oito, assinala a morte de John Franklin e refere que o destino destes homens é tentar marchar até à foz do Rio Great Fish. A partida está marcada para o dia seguinte.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oNQDXz9rI/AAAAAAAAAj8/ZUKUGULlX20/s1600-h/LadyJaneFranklin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oNQDXz9rI/AAAAAAAAAj8/ZUKUGULlX20/s320/LadyJaneFranklin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168458091795314354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Jane Griffin, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;depois&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lady_Jane_Franklin"&gt;Lady Franklin&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;SETE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Em mil oitocentos e cinquenta e cinco, Lady Jane Franklin tinha gasto toda a sua fortuna à procura do marido. Durante nove anos financiou quatro expedições de busca e ofereceu recompensas a quem lhe pudesse traçar o destino da expedição de John Franklin. Diz-se até que escreveu a letra da canção do mar que tomou o nome da sua mágoa: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Lady Franklin’s Lament&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We were homeward bound one night on the deep&lt;br /&gt;Swinging in my hammock I fell asleep&lt;br /&gt;I dreamed a dream and I thought it true&lt;br /&gt;Concerning Franklin and his gallant crew&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With a hundred seamen he sailed away&lt;br /&gt;To the frozen ocean in the month of May&lt;br /&gt;To seek a passage around the pole&lt;br /&gt;Where we poor sailors do sometimes go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through cruel hardships they vainly strove&lt;br /&gt;Their ships on mountains of ice were drove&lt;br /&gt;Only the Eskimo with his skin canoe&lt;br /&gt;Was the only one that ever came through&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In Baffin's Bay where the whale fish blow&lt;br /&gt;The fate of Franklin no man may know&lt;br /&gt;The fate of Franklin no tongue can tell&lt;br /&gt;Lord Franklin with his sailors do dwell&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And now my burden it gives me pain&lt;br /&gt;For my long-lost Franklin I would cross the main&lt;br /&gt;Ten thousand pounds I would freely give&lt;br /&gt;To know on earth, that my Franklin do live.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oNVjXz9sI/AAAAAAAAAkE/Sd7gpFPVUmk/s1600-h/test_john_rae.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oNVjXz9sI/AAAAAAAAAkE/Sd7gpFPVUmk/s320/test_john_rae.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168458186284594882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.biographi.ca/EN/ShowBio.asp?BioId=40508"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;John Rae&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;OITO&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Na primavera de mil oitocentos e cinquenta e quatro, o médico e explorador escocês John Rae está ao serviço da Hudson Bay Company a explorar as costas da Península de Boothia. Rae é um explorador intrépido, que se faz rodear de inuítes, aprendeendendo os seus modos de vestir, de caçar, de comer e de construir. Num dos seus relatórios, pode ler-se:&lt;br /&gt;“Conheci um esquimó muito inteligente e comunicativo que me disse ser a primeira vez que encontrava um branco, mas que sabia que entre trinta e cinco e quarenta kabloonas&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;*&lt;/span&gt; tinham morrido à fome a oeste de um rio a vinte dias de viagem”.&lt;br /&gt;Rae caminha então para oeste, à procura destes homens. Na viagem, encontra uma família de inuítes que lhe mostra vários objectos retirados dos despojos dos kabloonas: pratos de prata, bússulas, talheres e bisturis. Em todos os objectos, eram visíveis as seguintes inscrições: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sir John Franklin, &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Captain_Crozier"&gt;F.R.M.C&lt;/a&gt;., HMS Terror e HMS Erebus&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;* palavra inuíte para homem branco.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oM_TXz9oI/AAAAAAAAAjk/FtGK3k8CdHg/s1600-h/Franklin_raerels_800.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oM_TXz9oI/AAAAAAAAAjk/FtGK3k8CdHg/s320/Franklin_raerels_800.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168457804032505474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Os despojos encontrados por John Rae, num desenho do Illustrated London  News de 4 de Novembro de 1854.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;NOVE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;No &lt;a href="http://www.ric.edu/faculty/rpotter/cann.html"&gt;relatório&lt;/a&gt; de Rae consta a seguinte entrada:&lt;br /&gt;“Dado o tipo de mutilações infligidas a muitos dos corpos (...) é evidente que os nossos malogrados compatriotas foram forçados à mais pavorosa alternativa no que concerne a manter a vida”.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;DEZ&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Nunca! Nunca os marinheiros da Royal Navy recorreriam ao canibalismo, dizia-se numa Inglaterra vitoriana quando o escocês John Rae regressou com estes factos para contar. A honra da expedição não podia acabar assim. As informações de Rae não podiam ser verdade, não podiam singrar, não podiam ser credíveis. Custasse o que custasse. Lady Franklin mandou chamar o escritor Charles Dickens.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;ONZE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.victorianweb.org/authors/dickens/arctic/pva342.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Lost Arctic Voyagers&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; foi o título de um opúsculo escrito por Charles Dickens e publicado em duas partes no semanário &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Household Words&lt;/span&gt;, em Dezembro de mil oitocentos e cinquenta e quatro. Nele está escrito:&lt;br /&gt;“as informações que os esquimós deram a Rae são inacreditáveis, dada a natureza pouco credível desse povo”, e “é extremamente improvável que tais homens recorressem ou tentassem recorrer, fosse qual fosse o extremo da sua fome, a tão horríveis meios”.&lt;br /&gt;Mais à frente:&lt;br /&gt;“estes tristes despojos da expedição de Franklin talvez até tenham sido ultrajados e massacrados pelos próprios esquimós. É que é impossível traçar o carácter de qualquer raça de selvagens atendendo ao seu comportamento tão diferenciado dos fortes brancos”.&lt;br /&gt;E ainda:&lt;br /&gt;“a palavra de um selvagem não pode ser tida em conta como tal. Em primeiro porque ele é um mentiroso, em segundo porque é alarde, em terceiro porque é dado a figurações.”&lt;br /&gt;De nada valeu a defesa dos inúites na resposta de Rae. Todos queriam provas, mais provas. Um corpo, papeis, mais corpos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oNbTXz9tI/AAAAAAAAAkM/Ek6Lyi-7Yrw/s1600-h/vicpointcairn_med.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oNbTXz9tI/AAAAAAAAAkM/Ek6Lyi-7Yrw/s320/vicpointcairn_med.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168458285068842706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;A descoberta da carta e dos despojos da expedição por &lt;a href="http://www.biographi.ca/EN/ShowBio.asp?BioId=41016"&gt;Francis McClintock&lt;/a&gt; num desenho do &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Illustrated &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;London News de 15 de Outubro de 1859&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;DOZE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Só em mil oitocentos e cinquenta e nove, noutra expedição financiada por Lady Jane Franklin é que Francis Leopold McClintock encontraria a prova necessária para traçar de vez o destino da expedição de Franklin: a cinco de Maio, ao ancorar na ilha de King William, encontrou uma carta com notas nas margens, assinada pelo Capitão Fitzjames. Estava terminada a balada de John Franklin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;TREZE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Graças à viagem de Franklin e às expedições em sua busca, foram feitos avanços fundamentais para a descoberta da &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Northwest_Passage"&gt;Passagem Noroeste&lt;/a&gt;. No epitáfio de John Franklin, escrito por Alfred, Lord Tennyson, lê-se:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;"Not here! the white North has thy bones, and thou&lt;br /&gt;Heroic sailor-soul&lt;br /&gt;Art passing on thine happier voyage now&lt;br /&gt;Toward no earthly pole."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oMXTXz9jI/AAAAAAAAAi8/_qJjVw_V7ow/s1600-h/beecheyislandgraves.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oMXTXz9jI/AAAAAAAAAi8/_qJjVw_V7ow/s320/beecheyislandgraves.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168457116837738034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Túmulos dos cinco membros da tripulação de Franklin, Beechey Island. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;© Ansgar Walk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;A Balada de John Franklin, em treze pequenas partes, foi escrita com o apoio e inspiração da seguinte bibliografia:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Fatal Passage, de Ken McGoogan, Ed. Carroll &amp;amp; Graf Publishing, NY, 2002.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ric.edu/faculty/rpotter/publiceye.html"&gt;Franklin In The Public Eye&lt;/a&gt;, de Russel Potter.&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-2799678700235776356?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/2799678700235776356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=2799678700235776356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2799678700235776356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2799678700235776356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/02/balada-de-john-franklin.html' title='a balada de john franklin.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R7oM4jXz9nI/AAAAAAAAAjc/E-8pXJ3T4mc/s72-c/et.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-2414744083460373627</id><published>2008-02-16T00:02:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-02-18T21:59:07.689Z</updated><title type='text'>e então, o silêncio</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;O viajante parte à procura de Tule, a última. Segue os ensinamentos de Piteias, colhidos na &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Biblioteca Histórica &lt;/span&gt;de Diodoro Sículo.&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; Das ilhas Orkney, navega seis dias e seis noites para Norte. Passa o Círculo do Urso mas não encontra nem cidade, nem reino. Chega ao fim do mar. À sua frente, a vastidão dos brancos desertos de gelo. Já não há dias e já não há noites. O viajante deixa, então, de sentir o tempo. E exausto, diz &lt;em&gt;praeter solitudinem, nihil video&lt;strong&gt;.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/02/e-ento-o-silncio.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: normal;"&gt;15 de Fevereiro de 2007.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-2414744083460373627?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/2414744083460373627/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=2414744083460373627' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2414744083460373627'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2414744083460373627'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/02/e-ento-o-silncio.html' title='e então, o silêncio'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-2011743011535640262</id><published>2008-02-15T23:59:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-18T21:56:56.200Z</updated><title type='text'>ano um.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;O Polaris faz hoje um ano. Para assinalar a data, um cabeçalho renovado, usando, no "o" de Polaris, a região polar tal como representada no mapa&lt;b&gt;       &lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Septentrionalium Terrarum Descriptio&lt;/span&gt; de Gerhard Mecator (mil quinhentos e noventa e cinco). O assinalar deste primeiro aniversário estender-se-á durante a semana com a publicação de novos posts em cada uma das nove secções deste espaço, a saber, histórias, viagens e exploradores, da natureza do círculo, lugares, postais do círculo do urso, imagem do círculo, filmes do círculo e fantásticos espaços do círculo. Para começar, republica-se o texto do começo, há um ano atrás.&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/3740785517890142101-2011743011535640262?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/2011743011535640262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=2011743011535640262' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2011743011535640262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2011743011535640262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/02/ano-um.html' title='ano um.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-2978718841846002832</id><published>2008-02-11T15:37:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-11T19:38:45.628Z</updated><title type='text'>fantásticos espaços do círculo: reino do pólo norte</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R535OkJoA2I/AAAAAAAAAhI/9OZC5_sn1AE/s1600-h/2054bf979c664c6b1336fcea44bf9.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R535OkJoA2I/AAAAAAAAAhI/9OZC5_sn1AE/s400/2054bf979c664c6b1336fcea44bf9.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160554776653988706" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Primeira edição de Le Peuple du Pôle, datada de 1907.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;País situado debaixo do Círculo Polar Árctico e habitado por dinossauros civilizados. É um labirinto de túneis subterrâneos com várias saídas para os desertos gelados. A sociedade dos dinossauros está muito bem organizada e todos os seus membros se ocupam de tarefas específicas; a mais importante é vigiar umas enormes máquinas que transformam a energia electromagnética do Pólo Norte em calor e luz. Jovens aprendizes acompanham os operários encarregados da vigilância: se um operário demonstra negligência, vai parar ao matadouro e o aprendiz ocupa o seu lugar. Os dinossauros vão vestidos com uma peles de foca, têm cara de lagarto gigante e não deixam transparecer as suas emoções.&lt;br /&gt;Uma teoria defende que estas criaturas descendem dos dinossauros pré-históricos que, no passado, se refugiaram debaixo da terra. Um explorador francês, cujo acompanhante enlouqueceu, escreveu uma crónica do Reino do Pólo Norte que foi encontrada nos finais do século XIX por uns arqueólogos franceses no norte da Sibéria. O manuscrito foi encontrado num tanque de petróleo vazio junto ao esqueleto de um dinossauro, presumivelmente e um dos habitantes desse reino branco e gelado.&lt;br /&gt;(Charles Derennes, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in &lt;/span&gt;Le Peulpe du Pôle, Paris, 1907)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Breve Guía de Lugares Imaginarios, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alberto Manguel e  Gianni Guadalupi, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ed. Gran Bolsillo, Alianza Editorial, 1980, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;página 481.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&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/3740785517890142101-2978718841846002832?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/2978718841846002832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=2978718841846002832' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2978718841846002832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2978718841846002832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/02/fantsticos-espaos-do-crculo-reino-do.html' title='fantásticos espaços do círculo: reino do pólo norte'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R535OkJoA2I/AAAAAAAAAhI/9OZC5_sn1AE/s72-c/2054bf979c664c6b1336fcea44bf9.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-376528919825338695</id><published>2008-02-07T22:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-02-07T23:01:10.200Z</updated><title type='text'>ciclo de filmes do círculo: kjærlighetens kjøtere</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R6uNn0JoA9I/AAAAAAAAAiA/JRk9EYVhDJM/s1600-h/ZeroKelvinHansPetterMoland1995avi_0.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R6uNn0JoA9I/AAAAAAAAAiA/JRk9EYVhDJM/s320/ZeroKelvinHansPetterMoland1995avi_0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5164377112863835090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0113557/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Kjærlighetens Kjøtere (Zero Kelvin)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;: Hans Petter Moland&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, Noruega, 1995, 112 minutos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-376528919825338695?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/376528919825338695/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=376528919825338695' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/376528919825338695'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/376528919825338695'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/02/ciclo-de-filmes-do-crculo-kjrlighetens.html' title='ciclo de filmes do círculo: kjærlighetens kjøtere'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R6uNn0JoA9I/AAAAAAAAAiA/JRk9EYVhDJM/s72-c/ZeroKelvinHansPetterMoland1995avi_0.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-3153427984078678704</id><published>2008-01-28T15:11:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-01-28T15:20:58.158Z</updated><title type='text'>fantásticos espaços do círculo: ilha da rainha.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R53xQEJoA1I/AAAAAAAAAhA/BjO-ljBqF2c/s1600-h/The_Volcano_in_Journeys_and_Adventures_of_Captain_Hatteras_by_Jules_Verne.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R53xQEJoA1I/AAAAAAAAAhA/BjO-ljBqF2c/s400/The_Volcano_in_Journeys_and_Adventures_of_Captain_Hatteras_by_Jules_Verne.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5160546006330770258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Monte Hatteras, na Ilha da Rainha, a 12 de Julho de 1861. Ilustração de Riou.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Ilha próxima do Pólo Norte, situada a 86º, 59’15’’ N de latitude. Foi descoberta pelo Capitão John Hatteras, comandante do navio Forward, de Liverpool, Inglaterra, que lá chegou pela primeira vez a 11 de Julho de 1861 com quatro companheiros. A Ilha da Rainha está coberta de resíduos vulcânicos, carece de vegetação e tem um vulcão activo, considerado o autêntico Pólo Norte.&lt;br /&gt;Na companhia do seu cão Duck, o Capitão Hatteras chegou ao cimo do vulcão a 12 de Julho de 1861, içou uma bandeira inglesa e, ali mesmo, ficou senil. De regresso a Liverpool, foi internado no manicómio de Sten-Cottage. Os médicos concluíram que perdera a faculdade de falar bem como observaram que sempre que caminhava, Hatteras rumava a Norte.&lt;br /&gt;O vulcão foi baptizado com o nome de Monte Hatteras. Nele se deixou uma placa comemorativa, com a inscrição “John Hatteras, 1861”. Para mais informações, o viajante poderá consultar &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The English at The North Pole&lt;/span&gt;, do Dr. Clawbonny, obra publicada pela &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Royal Geographic Society&lt;/span&gt; em 1862.&lt;br /&gt;(Júlio Verne &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in&lt;/span&gt; As Aventuras do Capitão Hatteras, 1866)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Breve Guía de Lugares Imaginarios, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alberto Manguel e  Gianni Guadalupi, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ed. Gran Bolsillo, Alianza Editorial, 1980, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;página 510.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-3153427984078678704?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/3153427984078678704/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=3153427984078678704' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3153427984078678704'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3153427984078678704'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/01/fantsticos-espaos-do-crculo-ilha-da.html' title='fantásticos espaços do círculo: ilha da rainha.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R53xQEJoA1I/AAAAAAAAAhA/BjO-ljBqF2c/s72-c/The_Volcano_in_Journeys_and_Adventures_of_Captain_Hatteras_by_Jules_Verne.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-8719084741087635164</id><published>2008-01-11T20:20:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-01-11T20:42:19.135Z</updated><title type='text'>breve história do narval.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R4fTEt8mpHI/AAAAAAAAAfc/GXKo6K00JYQ/s1600-h/narwhals-sw.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R4fTEt8mpHI/AAAAAAAAAfc/GXKo6K00JYQ/s320/narwhals-sw.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154320376555545714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Narvais.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;Fotografia: &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt; Flip Nicklin / National Geographic.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R4fS8t8mpGI/AAAAAAAAAfU/xDXN3HXcmd4/s1600-h/narhvalrr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R4fS8t8mpGI/AAAAAAAAAfU/xDXN3HXcmd4/s320/narhvalrr.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154320239116592226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Um Narval de dente duplo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;Fotografia: &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt; DR.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R4fStt8mpFI/AAAAAAAAAfM/Opq0IANxDVU/s1600-h/Narwal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R4fStt8mpFI/AAAAAAAAAfM/Opq0IANxDVU/s320/Narwal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5154319981418554450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Narval macho ou unicórnio (Monodon monoceros) e baleia da Gronelândia (Somniosus microcephalus) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;In An account of the Arctic regions with a history and description of the northern whale-fishery, por William Scoresby. 1820. P. 588, Vol. II. Plate XV. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A lenda Inuit diz-nos que o Narval apareceu quando uma mulher, armada com um arpão, caiu nas águas geladas e foi devorada por uma Beluga. O dente do Narval só existe nos machos. Ninguém sabe o que significa a esgrima que fazem à tona da água. Se são saudações, se são duelos, se são limpezas de sujidades no extremo do dente. Ninguém sabe. Os Vikings criam que o dente do Narval era um unicórnio, repleto de poderes mágicos. Diziam até que um copo feito de dente de Narval era imune a qualquer veneno. O preço em ouro de cada dente era dez vezes mais que o peso do Narval. Alguns dentes custavam mais que castelos. Só os Inuits, gente que depende da caça para viver, é que podem caçar Narvais. Fazem-no durante os degelos, algures entre a baía de Baffin e o Estreito de Davis.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;referência: http://www.nationalgeographic.pt/articulo.jsp?id=1367058&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-8719084741087635164?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/8719084741087635164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=8719084741087635164' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8719084741087635164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8719084741087635164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/01/breve-histria-do-narval.html' title='breve história do narval.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R4fTEt8mpHI/AAAAAAAAAfc/GXKo6K00JYQ/s72-c/narwhals-sw.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-413030737542318949</id><published>2008-01-03T15:25:00.001Z</published><updated>2008-01-03T15:34:25.931Z</updated><title type='text'>ciclo de filmes do círculo: the savage innocents.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R3z-5N8mo-I/AAAAAAAAAeU/D3Wzm7c_YYo/s1600-h/protectedimage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R3z-5N8mo-I/AAAAAAAAAeU/D3Wzm7c_YYo/s320/protectedimage.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5151272332754854882" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0053244/"&gt;The Savage Innocents&lt;/a&gt;, Nicholas Ray, EUA, 1961, 110 minutos.&lt;br /&gt;A partir de &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Top of The World&lt;/span&gt;, de Hans Ruesch.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* No Telhado do Mundo, Ed. Empresa Nacional de Publicidade, 1958.&lt;br /&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/3740785517890142101-413030737542318949?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/413030737542318949/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=413030737542318949' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/413030737542318949'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/413030737542318949'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2008/01/ciclo-de-filmes-do-crculo-savage.html' title='ciclo de filmes do círculo: the savage innocents.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R3z-5N8mo-I/AAAAAAAAAeU/D3Wzm7c_YYo/s72-c/protectedimage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-8785707429701981657</id><published>2007-12-17T21:18:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-12-17T21:28:56.969Z</updated><title type='text'>da importância dos nomes.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Quando, ao lado dos nomes dos Davis, dos Baffin, dos Hudson, dos Ross, dos Parry, dos Franklin e dos Bellot, vejo o do cabo da Desolação, acho logo o da baía da Mercê; o cabo Providência faz parelha com o porto da Ansiedade; a baía &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Repulse&lt;/span&gt; lembra-me logo o cabo Éden, e depois de dobrar a ponta &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Turnagain&lt;/span&gt; vou-me repousar na baía do Regfúgio. Estas denominações no mapa põem-me debaixo dos olhos a incessante sucessão de perigos, de catástrofes, de obstáculos, de felizes êxitos, de desesperações e de venturas (...)"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in&lt;/span&gt; As Aventuras do Capitão Hatteras, Primeira Parte - Os Ingleses No Pólo Norte, de &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/J%C3%BAlio_Verne"&gt;Jules Verne&lt;/a&gt;, 1866. Bertrand Ed. p. 58.&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/3740785517890142101-8785707429701981657?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/8785707429701981657/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=8785707429701981657' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8785707429701981657'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8785707429701981657'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/12/da-importncia-dos-nomes.html' title='da importância dos nomes.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-7674776195162103600</id><published>2007-11-25T21:46:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-25T21:49:22.140Z</updated><title type='text'>ciclo de filmes do círculo: frozen frolics.</title><content type='html'>&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/ff.flv" height="361" width="448"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0020907/"&gt;Frozen Frolics&lt;/a&gt;, Harry Bailey &amp;amp; John Foster, EUA, 1930, 5 minutos.&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/3740785517890142101-7674776195162103600?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/7674776195162103600/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=7674776195162103600' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7674776195162103600'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7674776195162103600'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/11/ciclo-de-filmes-do-crculo-frozen.html' title='ciclo de filmes do círculo: frozen frolics.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-7667568570792596029</id><published>2007-11-25T21:18:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-25T21:25:21.846Z</updated><title type='text'>ciclo de filmes do círculo: the gold rush.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R0nnkFi2MwI/AAAAAAAAAdg/nAXenXT_LVo/s1600-h/ggr.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R0nnkFi2MwI/AAAAAAAAAdg/nAXenXT_LVo/s320/ggr.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136891457142403842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://imdb.com/title/tt0013427/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0015864/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Gold Rush&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, Charles Chaplin, EUA, 1925, 96 minutos.&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-7667568570792596029?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/7667568570792596029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=7667568570792596029' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7667568570792596029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7667568570792596029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/11/ciclo-de-filmes-do-crculo-gold-rush.html' title='ciclo de filmes do círculo: the gold rush.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R0nnkFi2MwI/AAAAAAAAAdg/nAXenXT_LVo/s72-c/ggr.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-9119867733168186541</id><published>2007-11-23T09:37:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-23T09:54:04.598Z</updated><title type='text'>iceblink.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R0ahrli2MvI/AAAAAAAAAdY/5vBhZI0umNc/s1600-h/iceblink_large.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R0ahrli2MvI/AAAAAAAAAdY/5vBhZI0umNc/s320/iceblink_large.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135970195247346418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Fotografia de Charles Swithinbank, retirada do &lt;i&gt;Illustrated Glossary of Snow and Ice,&lt;br /&gt;do &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Scott Polar Research Institute&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;"Na terça feira, 17 de Abril, pelas onze da manhã, deu o &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;icemaster&lt;/span&gt; sinal de avistar, pela primeira vez, o &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;blink&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(1)&lt;/span&gt; do gelo, que estava a vinte milhas, pelo menos, a nor-noroeste. Era como uma faixa de um branco deslumbrante que, apesar da presença de densas núvens, alumiava com vivo clarão toda a parte da atmosfera próxima do horizonte. Homens experimentados, como alguns dos que estavam a bordo, não podiam equivocar-se com o fenómeno, e de pronto reconheceram que aquele &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;blink&lt;/span&gt; devia ir de algum extenso campo de gelo situado a umas trinta milhas além do alcance da vista e que provinha da reflexão nele dos raios luminosos."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;(1) Cor particular e brilhante que toma a atmosfera por cima das grandes extensões de gelo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in&lt;/span&gt; As Aventuras do Capitão Hatteras, Primeira Parte - Os Ingleses No Pólo Norte, de &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/J%C3%BAlio_Verne"&gt;Jules Verne&lt;/a&gt;, 1866. Bertrand Ed. p. 48.&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/3740785517890142101-9119867733168186541?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/9119867733168186541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=9119867733168186541' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/9119867733168186541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/9119867733168186541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/11/iceblink.html' title='iceblink.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/R0ahrli2MvI/AAAAAAAAAdY/5vBhZI0umNc/s72-c/iceblink_large.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-593303926081670834</id><published>2007-11-16T01:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-11-16T02:02:13.912Z</updated><title type='text'>ciclo de filmes do círculo: s/t, circa 1926.</title><content type='html'>&lt;embed type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/ea1914.flv" height="361" width="448"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Esta curta metragem documental faz parte dos extras da edição espanhola de &lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/filmes-do-crculo-nanook-of-north.html"&gt;Nanook Of The North&lt;/a&gt; (colecção &lt;a href="http://www.moviesdistribucion.com/caratulas/index.asp?pthCaratula=200x200/51/51428.gif&amp;amp;wCaratula=0&amp;amp;hCaratula=0"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Origenes del Cine&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;). Vem denominada &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Expedición Al Ártico, 1914&lt;/span&gt;. Contudo, a viagem de &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Evelyn_Byrd#North_Pole_flight.2C_1926"&gt;Richard E. Byrd&lt;/a&gt; e &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Floyd_Bennett"&gt;Floyd Bennett&lt;/a&gt; ao Pólo Norte, no fokker Josephine Ford, a partir de Kings Bay, Spitsbergen, data de mil novecentos e vinte e seis. Daí a escolha deste &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sem título.&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-593303926081670834?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/593303926081670834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=593303926081670834' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/593303926081670834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/593303926081670834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/11/filmes-do-crculo-do-urso-st-circa-1926.html' title='ciclo de filmes do círculo: s/t, circa 1926.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-3890683447978962455</id><published>2007-10-12T17:15:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-10-12T17:24:16.189Z</updated><title type='text'>fantásticos espaços do círculo - hiperbórea (2)</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Olhemo-nos de frente. Somos Hiperbóreos, e sabemos muito bem como vivemos distantes. &lt;/span&gt;"Nem por terra nem por mar encontrarás o caminho que conduz aos Hiperbóreos" &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;- como já dizia Píndaro de nós. Para além do Norte, dos gelos, da morte - a nossa vida, a nossa felicidade... Descobrimos a felicidade, conhecemos o caminho que a ela conduz, encontramos a saída após milhares de anos de labirinto.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friederich Nietzsche &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;in&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; O Anticristo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;, 1888.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/fantsticos-espaos-do-crculo-hiperbrea.html"&gt;Hiperbórea (1)&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-3890683447978962455?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/3890683447978962455/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=3890683447978962455' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3890683447978962455'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3890683447978962455'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/10/fantsticos-espaos-do-crculo-hiperbrea-2.html' title='fantásticos espaços do círculo - hiperbórea (2)'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-5023619429702059403</id><published>2007-10-10T16:27:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-10-10T16:36:52.870Z</updated><title type='text'>a neve vermelha.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rwz-C2jmKPI/AAAAAAAAAbI/oJhqcnKk8hE/s1600-h/800px-Watermelon_snow_pits.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rwz-C2jmKPI/AAAAAAAAAbI/oJhqcnKk8hE/s320/800px-Watermelon_snow_pits.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5119746201371420914" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Neve vermelha no Círculo do Urso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Fotografia: &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt; DR.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Desde sempre que a neve vermelha surpreendeu os viajantes polares. À primeira vista pode parecer sangue. Assim o relatam alguns exploradores, de tempos já sem memória. Mas uma simples aproximação demonstra que não. Durante séculos, muito se especulou sobre a sua origem, se mineral, se orgânica. Em maio de mil oitocentos e dezoito a expedição de John Ross avistou neve vermelha ao largo do Cabo York na Gronelândia. Recolheu amostras para se descobrir a origem deste fenómeno. Os jornais da altura noticiavam que o fenómeno não seria meteorológico “já que John Ross não tinha visto a neve vermelha a cair”. Descreviam a neve vermelha como “parecida com o Vinho do Porto tinto” e descartavam a hipótese da sua “origem estar ligada com a cor do solo, uma vez que assim não seria possível que existisse no gelo”. As análises feitas de tais amostras concluiram, erradamente, que a neve vermelha se devia à oxidação do ferro existente. Só no final de oitocentos é que se descobriu que a neve vermelha mais não é que protococcus, uma alga cujo citoplasma fica vermelho por força da exposição à luz.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-5023619429702059403?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/5023619429702059403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=5023619429702059403' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5023619429702059403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5023619429702059403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/10/neve-vermelha.html' title='a neve vermelha.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rwz-C2jmKPI/AAAAAAAAAbI/oJhqcnKk8hE/s72-c/800px-Watermelon_snow_pits.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-5243698098036686620</id><published>2007-10-03T19:29:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-10-03T19:48:20.430Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 16 - kondinskie ozera, sibéria.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RwPsBmjmKMI/AAAAAAAAAaw/ApEvLgjJ8sI/s1600-h/d.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RwPsBmjmKMI/AAAAAAAAAaw/ApEvLgjJ8sI/s320/d.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117193113896888514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Parque Natural Kondinskie Ozera, quase Círculo do Urso.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Parque Natural Kondinskie Ozera, quatrocentos quilómetros a oeste de Khanty-Mansiysk. Sim, havia plataformas de extracção de petróleo num parque natural. nesse sítio iam fazer sete furos!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;MR, em email enviado a EB, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Setembro de 2007.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Fotografia: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt; MR.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-5243698098036686620?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/5243698098036686620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=5243698098036686620' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5243698098036686620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5243698098036686620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/10/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-15-kondinskie.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 16 - kondinskie ozera, sibéria.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RwPsBmjmKMI/AAAAAAAAAaw/ApEvLgjJ8sI/s72-c/d.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-5216161027250148503</id><published>2007-10-03T19:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-10-03T19:53:29.268Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 15 - sibéria pré-círculo do urso.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RwPso2jmKNI/AAAAAAAAAa4/HwW_9QUixC0/s1600-h/ds.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RwPso2jmKNI/AAAAAAAAAa4/HwW_9QUixC0/s320/ds.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117193788206754002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RwPs2WjmKOI/AAAAAAAAAbA/yWV7gs-RmGk/s1600-h/1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RwPs2WjmKOI/AAAAAAAAAbA/yWV7gs-RmGk/s320/1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117194020134988002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt; &lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="font-style: italic; text-align: left;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Aqui na siberia não está tanto frio assim. Não consigo encontrar postais, algo de perfeitamente incompreensível. Portanto, envio-te duas fotos sem qualquer tratamento. Mas são as minhas favoritas. A foto do balde à beira lago foi tirada na área protegida de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Elizarovskiy Zakaznik&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt; no leito de cheia do rio Ob, a jusante de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Khanty-Mansiysk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;. A foto da árvore morta à beira lago foi tirada na Turfeira Kukushino, sessenta quilómetros a este de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Khanty-Mansiysk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;MR, em email enviado a EB, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Setembro de 2007.&lt;br /&gt;F&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;otografia: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt; MR.&lt;/em&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/3740785517890142101-5216161027250148503?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/5216161027250148503/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=5216161027250148503' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5216161027250148503'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5216161027250148503'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/10/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-16-sibria-2.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 15 - sibéria pré-círculo do urso.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RwPso2jmKNI/AAAAAAAAAa4/HwW_9QUixC0/s72-c/ds.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-3197888308663070452</id><published>2007-10-03T19:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-10-03T19:37:20.147Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 14 - Þingvellir, islândia.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RwPrgGjmKLI/AAAAAAAAAao/L3JPK617HjA/s1600-h/Iceland+113.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RwPrgGjmKLI/AAAAAAAAAao/L3JPK617HjA/s320/Iceland+113.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117192538371270834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/1152"&gt;Parque Nacional de Þingvellir&lt;/a&gt;, Islândia, Pré-Círculo do Urso&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;Fotografia: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt; MR&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-3197888308663070452?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/3197888308663070452/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=3197888308663070452' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3197888308663070452'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3197888308663070452'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/10/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-14-ingvellir.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 14 - Þingvellir, islândia.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RwPrgGjmKLI/AAAAAAAAAao/L3JPK617HjA/s72-c/Iceland+113.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-6648278803109144075</id><published>2007-10-03T19:15:00.001Z</published><updated>2007-10-03T19:35:28.427Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 13 - gullfoss, islândia.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RwPrRWjmKKI/AAAAAAAAAag/91kuWgMZUA8/s1600-h/2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RwPrRWjmKKI/AAAAAAAAAag/91kuWgMZUA8/s320/2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5117192284968200354" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Cascata de &lt;a href="http://www.vulkaner.no/n/gullfoss/egullfoss.html"&gt;Gullfoss&lt;/a&gt;, Islândia, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;quase&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt; no Círculo do Urso.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Fotografia: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt; MR&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &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/3740785517890142101-6648278803109144075?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/6648278803109144075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=6648278803109144075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6648278803109144075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6648278803109144075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/10/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-13-gullfoss.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 13 - gullfoss, islândia.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RwPrRWjmKKI/AAAAAAAAAag/91kuWgMZUA8/s72-c/2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-5133416632401242279</id><published>2007-09-27T22:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-09-27T15:59:26.692Z</updated><title type='text'>fantásticos espaços do círculo: ilhas flutuantes do canadá</title><content type='html'>Grupo de ilhas canadianas do Lago Superior. São regidas por um deus fastidioso a quem os índios homenageiam lançando à água rosas e tabaco. Se porém o viajante, maravilhado, quer aproximar-se destas ilhas, o zelozo deus que guarda estas terras cubri-las-á, para seu oróprio deleite, com um manto de névoa para protegê-las dos olhares curiosos, não importando quanto tempo o viajante possa passar a procurá-las, uma vez que jamais as poderá pisar.&lt;br /&gt;Charles M. Skinner, &lt;a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/etext/6615"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Myths And Legends Of our Own Land&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, Toronto, 1896)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Breve Guía de Lugares Imaginarios, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alberto Manguel e  Gianni Guadalupi, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ed. Gran Bolsillo, Alianza Editorial, 1980, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;página 293.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-5133416632401242279?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/5133416632401242279/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=5133416632401242279' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5133416632401242279'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5133416632401242279'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/09/fantsticos-espaos-do-crculo-ilhas.html' title='fantásticos espaços do círculo: ilhas flutuantes do canadá'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-3611335219249064147</id><published>2007-09-12T16:18:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-09-12T16:21:47.975Z</updated><title type='text'>norte.</title><content type='html'>nord ipar norzh nord 北 북 norte nordo pohjoinen nord noarden noorden gogledd βορράς    észak nordo utara north nord nord きた lor borea północ север sever nord&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-3611335219249064147?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/3611335219249064147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=3611335219249064147' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3611335219249064147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3611335219249064147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/09/norte.html' title='norte.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-7993225426032803903</id><published>2007-09-11T22:19:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-09-11T14:36:26.029Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 12 - ny ålesund.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RualXOm5sZI/AAAAAAAAAaI/AE1pf3Oa7Vo/s1600-h/ny_alesund.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RualXOm5sZI/AAAAAAAAAaI/AE1pf3Oa7Vo/s320/ny_alesund.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108952645775241618" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ny Ålesund, Svalbard: a estação de correios mais a norte do mundo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fotografia: ©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; DR.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-7993225426032803903?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/7993225426032803903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=7993225426032803903' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7993225426032803903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7993225426032803903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/09/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-11-ny-lesund.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 12 - ny ålesund.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RualXOm5sZI/AAAAAAAAAaI/AE1pf3Oa7Vo/s72-c/ny_alesund.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-4859557946604224913</id><published>2007-09-11T21:20:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-09-11T14:15:17.050Z</updated><title type='text'>fantásticos espaços do círculo: erikraudebyg ou terra de eric, o ruivo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Povoação situada no noroeste da Gronelândia, a dezassete dias de viagem desde a costa, rodeada pela cordilheira dos Dentes do Diabo. Erikraudebyg é, na realidade, o que resta do reinado de Eric, o Ruivo, que descobriu a Gronelândia no século X. Trata-se do único lugar viking que perdurou depois da conquista da Gronelândia pelos Esquimós. A aldeia é formada por centenas de casas de pedra ou madeira, com janelas de obsidianas e jardins cheios de plantas e flores típicas do norte da Eurpa. A aldeia é dividida em dois sectores por um caminho principal que atravessa uma praça até ao Palácio Real que se encontra aos pés da montanha.&lt;br /&gt;A fauna do reino é interssantíssima para o naturalista. Abundam mamutes e ursos de pelagem parda, bem maiores que os ursos polares.&lt;br /&gt;Os habitantes de Erikaudebyg são altos e de pele branca. Os homens têm o cabelo grande e ruivo e espessos bigodes. As mulheres são loiras, o que prova que os seus antepassados eram vikings. O seus barcos de guerra são formidáveis: têm uns quarenta metros de largura, uma grande vela e quinze remos de cada lado.&lt;br /&gt;Em Erikraudebyg fala-se o antigo norueguês, a língua gutural dos vikings, ainda que algumas palavras sobrevivam nas linguas escandinavas modernas. Presta-se culto a Odín, como deus principal. O governo é uma monarquia por eleição. Ao serem coroados, todos os reis, que devem parecer-se fisicamente com o fundador da colónia, tomam o nome de Eric, seguido de um cognome (o Iluminado, por exemplo). O &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;halmar&lt;/span&gt;, o sumo sacerdote, administra a justiça - que se aplica em combates - e tem uma grande influência na eleição do rei.&lt;br /&gt;Os habitantes de Erikraudebyg desejam, acima de tudo, guardar o segredo da sua terra. Segundo a lenda, Erikraudebyg perdurará enquanto ninguém chegue das montanhas. Contudo, a tradição diz que alguém semelhante a Eric, o Ruivo acudirá novamente a cidade, salvando-a de grandes perigos. Os viajantes ruivos e de bigode devem ter isto em conta na hora da sua viagem a Erikraudebyg.&lt;br /&gt;(Paul Alperine, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;La Citadelle des Glaces&lt;/span&gt;, Paris, 1946)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Breve Guía de Lugares Imaginarios, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alberto Manguel e  Gianni Guadalupi, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ed. Gran Bolsillo, Alianza Editorial, 1980, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span&gt;página 184.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-4859557946604224913?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/4859557946604224913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=4859557946604224913' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4859557946604224913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4859557946604224913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/02/erikraudebyg-ou-terra-de-eric-o.html' title='fantásticos espaços do círculo: erikraudebyg ou terra de eric, o ruivo.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-8878983693836278356</id><published>2007-09-11T15:57:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-09-11T14:36:36.411Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 11 - mar de barents.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RpT-QgBNPpI/AAAAAAAAAYI/cix_zWJcvHA/s1600-h/NorwegianGasDerrickBarentsSea.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RpT-QgBNPpI/AAAAAAAAAYI/cix_zWJcvHA/s320/NorwegianGasDerrickBarentsSea.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5085969438634491538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Plataforma noruegesa de gás no mar de Barents.&lt;br /&gt;Fotografia: &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;em&gt; D&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;R.&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-8878983693836278356?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/8878983693836278356/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=8878983693836278356' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8878983693836278356'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8878983693836278356'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/09/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-10-mar-de.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 11 - mar de barents.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RpT-QgBNPpI/AAAAAAAAAYI/cix_zWJcvHA/s72-c/NorwegianGasDerrickBarentsSea.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-1268798505835556429</id><published>2007-08-22T17:14:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-09-11T14:32:50.671Z</updated><title type='text'>murmansk.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/mmsk.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Murmansk, vista do delta do rio Tuloma. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;© Jorn Madslien / BBC.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Murmansk, a cidade do porto que nunca congela, fica no delta do rio Tuloma, península de Kola. Nem Europa nem Ásia. Árctico, círculo polar, terra de Saamis. A história de Murmansk conta-se em cem anos. Para trás de mil novecentos e dezasseis, data da construção do seu porto, fica a vida de uma pequena aldeia piscatória. Murmansk, cidade portuária, foi ponto estratégico na economia, primeiro, e na guerra, depois: bombardeada e destruída pelos alemães, reconstruída, usada e esquecida pelos soviéticos. Hoje, renasce lentamente graças ao gás natural e ao óleo.&lt;br /&gt;Ao largo da costa de Kola, ali bem perto, há imensa riqueza a latejar debaixo de água. E um cemitério de despojos nucleares. E o Árctico todo.&lt;br /&gt;A cidade é, pois, um último lugar.&lt;br /&gt;As quatro foto-histórias de Murmansk são da autoria de Jorn Madslien. Na legenda de cada uma das imagens está o link para descobri-las.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rsx5UOm5sVI/AAAAAAAAAZo/V9IlB6UvaNc/s1600-h/Picture+1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rsx5UOm5sVI/AAAAAAAAAZo/V9IlB6UvaNc/s320/Picture+1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101585866329534802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/shared/spl/hi/pop_ups/06/business_murmansk0s_gorgeous_garages/html/1.stm"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;As&lt;/span&gt; belas &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;garagens de Murmansk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt; © Jorn Madslien / BBC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rsx51um5sYI/AAAAAAAAAaA/_bcZXx4vCaA/s1600-h/Picture+5.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rsx51um5sYI/AAAAAAAAAaA/_bcZXx4vCaA/s320/Picture+5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101586441855152514" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/shared/spl/hi/pop_ups/06/business_belokamenka/html/1.stm"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;O transporte de óleo no &lt;/span&gt;Belokamenka&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;a&gt;.&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;© Jorn Madslien / BBC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rsx5qem5sXI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/MIb_4leQ_dQ/s1600-h/Picture+4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rsx5qem5sXI/AAAAAAAAAZ4/MIb_4leQ_dQ/s320/Picture+4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101586248581624178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/shared/spl/hi/pop_ups/06/business_saami_in_russia/html/1.stm"&gt;Os Saami.&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;© Jorn Madslien / BBC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rsx5d-m5sWI/AAAAAAAAAZw/vAzCTdIgf0Q/s1600-h/Picture+2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rsx5d-m5sWI/AAAAAAAAAZw/vAzCTdIgf0Q/s320/Picture+2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101586033833259362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/shared/spl/hi/pop_ups/06/business_monchegorsk/html/1.stm"&gt;A paisagem devastada.&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;© Jorn Madslien / BBC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-1268798505835556429?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/1268798505835556429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=1268798505835556429' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1268798505835556429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1268798505835556429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/08/murmanskhttpwwwbloggercomimggllinkgif.html' title='murmansk.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rsx5UOm5sVI/AAAAAAAAAZo/V9IlB6UvaNc/s72-c/Picture+1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-5549502504083761999</id><published>2007-08-22T16:12:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-08-22T17:14:32.021Z</updated><title type='text'>quatro mil duzentos e sessenta e um metros debaixo de água.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rsxu6em5sUI/AAAAAAAAAZg/Sry3glfTEOY/s1600-h/uflag.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rsxu6em5sUI/AAAAAAAAAZg/Sry3glfTEOY/s320/uflag.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5101574428831625538" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Durante décadas, a ganância dos homens faz derreter o gelo do Círculo do Urso. O mundo desequilibra-se. Novas riquezas estão agora à vista. Brilham. Voltam a cegar a ambição de sempre. Todos querem mandar na terra de ninguém, no lugar que não existe.&lt;br /&gt;A bandeira, feita de titânio, tenta dizer &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;isto é meu&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-5549502504083761999?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/5549502504083761999/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=5549502504083761999' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5549502504083761999'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5549502504083761999'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/08/quatro-mil-duzentos-e-sessenta-e-um.html' title='quatro mil duzentos e sessenta e um metros debaixo de água.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rsxu6em5sUI/AAAAAAAAAZg/Sry3glfTEOY/s72-c/uflag.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-284771318840025699</id><published>2007-08-01T20:20:00.001Z</published><updated>2007-08-01T20:26:56.336Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 10 - anchorage, alaska.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RrDrSnrQ-PI/AAAAAAAAAZY/tumu9K0dSJw/s1600-h/panch.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RrDrSnrQ-PI/AAAAAAAAAZY/tumu9K0dSJw/s320/panch.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093829883676653810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A cidade, apesar de não ser deslumbrante, tem aquele ambiente e aquela &lt;/span&gt;mística&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; que só as cidades de fronteira conseguem ter (...). Um certo orgulho do isolamento, difícil de explicar, mas que marca profundamente e que atrai.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;FV, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Postal de Anchorage para EB&lt;/span&gt;, 6 de Julho de 2007.&lt;/span&gt;       &lt;a name="6275878876865788888"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-284771318840025699?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/284771318840025699/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=284771318840025699' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/284771318840025699'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/284771318840025699'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/08/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-10-anchorage.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 10 - anchorage, alaska.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RrDrSnrQ-PI/AAAAAAAAAZY/tumu9K0dSJw/s72-c/panch.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-5373841068621728280</id><published>2007-07-20T23:30:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-07-23T23:40:18.584Z</updated><title type='text'>a imagem do círculo (6) - nils strindberg.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Nils Strindberg foi o cientista-fotógrafo da malograda expedição de Salomon August Andrée de  mil oitocentos e noventa e sete.  Tinha vinte e cinco anos quando morreu na ilha gelada de Vitön, depois de ter caminhado no gelo durante três meses. Fotografava desde os dezasseis anos.&lt;br /&gt;A bordo do balão Örnen, Nils levou uma série de rolos Easman Kodak que foi disparando desde o início da viagem pelo ar até pouco tempo depois do começo da longa e penosa caminhada no gelo.&lt;br /&gt;Trinta e três anos passados, ao descobrir-se a última morada da expedição, os rolos de Strindberg foram encontrados cuidadosamente embrulhados num tecido preto e vermelho. Teoricamente, estariam fora de prazo há trinta e dois anos. Levados à mão do técnico de fotografia John Hertzberg, foram por este secos e revelados. Das cento e noventa e duas exposições feitas por Nils, cinquenta continham informação possível de imprimir, e, dessas cinquenta, vinte estavam em perfeito estado de conservação. Graças ao gelo.&lt;br /&gt;As imagens de Nils Strindberg são um corpo narrativo verdadeiramente impressionante - retrato do início do drama da expedição numa altura em que ainda não era encarado como tal - e, também, exemplos perfeitos de um duplo sentido de instante congelado. Olhar as fotografias de Nils Strindber carrega, portanto, um duplo sentido na compreensão da essência da fotografia.&lt;br /&gt;Aqui fica uma significativa selecção.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an23.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O balão Örnen, S. A. Andrée e Knut &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Frænkel, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;logo após a aterragem a 14 de Julho de 1897. Fotografia de &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nils Strindberg&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an08-1.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O Örnen, 14 de Julho de 1897. Andrée sai da cabine, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Frænkel está à direita. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fotografia de Nils Strindberg.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an52-1.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O Örnen, 14 de Julho de 1897. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Frænkel (esquerda) e Andrée (direita). &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fotografia de Nils Strindberg.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an34.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O primeiro urso abatido por Andrée,  17 de Julho de 1897. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fotografia de Nils Strindberg.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an10.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Frænkel e Andrée junto ao urso. 17 de Julho de 1897.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Fotografia de Nils Strindberg.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an28.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;O primeiro acampamento, junto ao local de aterragem. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fotografia de Nils Strindberg.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an61.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Desmontagem do primeiro acampamento, 22 de Julho de 1897.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Fotografia de Nils Strindberg, parte de uma panorâmica de 360º que pode ser vista &lt;a href="http://www.biad.uce.ac.uk/research/rti/riadm/issue6/images/tm11.htm"&gt;aqui&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum + Tyrone Martinsson.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an58.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Andrée (esquerda, dentro da tenda) e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Frænkel (à direita)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Fotografia de Nils Strindberg.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an11.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Preparando a partida&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Fotografia de Nils Strindberg.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an30.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Chegada depois de um dia de caminho.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Fotografia de Nils Strindberg.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an09.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Passagem por um canal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Fotografia de Nils Strindberg.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an32.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Empurrando o bote. Da esquerda para a direita, Andrée, Strindberg e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Frænkel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Fotografia de Nils Strindberg.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an53.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Chegada a um canal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Fotografia (por retocar) de Nils Strindberg.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an55.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Auto-retrato de Nils Strindberg, durante a caminhada&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Fotografia de Nils Strindberg.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an56.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Acampamento junto a um canal&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Fotografia de Nils Strindberg.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an57.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Fotografia de Nils Strindberg.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Um estudo sobre as imagens de Nils Strindberg, da autoria de Tyrone Martinsson, pode ser consultado &lt;a href="http://www.biad.uce.ac.uk/research/rti/riadm/issue6/images/tm01.htm"&gt;aqui&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&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/3740785517890142101-5373841068621728280?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/5373841068621728280/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=5373841068621728280' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5373841068621728280'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5373841068621728280'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/07/imagem-do-crculo-6-nils-strindberg.html' title='a imagem do círculo (6) - nils strindberg.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-6743877684982106617</id><published>2007-07-19T17:46:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-07-22T21:26:25.320Z</updated><title type='text'>a história de andrée - 6 - epílogo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rp-j-ZeEJZI/AAAAAAAAAZA/PhKHCrk3opo/s1600-h/tri.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rp-j-ZeEJZI/AAAAAAAAAZA/PhKHCrk3opo/s320/tri.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088966396336154002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Salomon August Andrée, Knut Frænkel e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;s Strindberg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;Posterity has expressed surprise that they died on Kvitøya, surrounded by food. (...) The surprise is rather that they found the strength to live so long"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Rolf Kjellström &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The Centennial of S.A. Andrée's North Pole Expedition: Proceedings of a Conference on S.A. Andrée.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;O &lt;a href="http://ku-prism.org/polarscientist/andreemystery/andreeindex.html"&gt;mistério de Andrée&lt;/a&gt; começa a quinze de Julho de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete. É nesta data que é encontrada a antepenúltima notícia da expedição: o navio norueguês Alken apanha um dos pombos correios largados do balão Örnen. Na mensagem, destinada ao jornal sueco Aftonbladet, podia ler-se um animador tudo bem a bordo. Em mil oitocentos e noventa e nove, bem como no ano seguinte, são encontradas mais duas mensagens enviadas por Andrée ainda durante o vôo do Örnen. Ambas mencionam o elevado optimismo e a excelente condição de todos.&lt;br /&gt;Trinta e três anos depois da viagem de Andrée, a expedição de Gunnar Horn, a bordo do veleiro Braatvag, atraca em Vitön. Tal como em mil oitocentos e noventa e sete, o Verão polar de mil novecentos e trinta é particularmente quente e deixa ver o cume das montanhas da ilha branca. Olaf Salen e Karl Tusvik, marinheiros, vão a terra. Vêem a ponta negra de um batel, mancha indisfarçável na paisagem. Acercam-se e lêem Andrees polarexp. O mistério está desfeito. Ali está, quase intacto, o acampamento de inverno da expedição de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete. Mais à frente, a sepultura de Nils Strindberg. Dentro da tenda, os corpos de Knut Frænkel e Salomon August Andrée, lado a lado e rodeados por inúmeros objectos conservados pelo gelo, desde utensílios e diários da viagem até aos rolos fotográficos de Strindberg.&lt;br /&gt;Termina um mistério, outro começa: se é lógico que Strindberg foi o primeiro a morrer, como pereceram os outros dois exploradores? Ao lado dos seus corpos, restos de provisões ainda por consumir. E peles de urso. E uma salamandra desligada cheia de parafina. O que exclui a fome, o frio e o envenenamento por monóxido de carbono como causas de morte. Hoje, volvidos quase cento e dez anos, apontam-se como causas prováveis da morte dos exploradores o &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Botulismo"&gt;botulismo&lt;/a&gt; e a &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triquinose"&gt;triquinose&lt;/a&gt;: infecções virais provocadas pela ingestão de carnes contaminadas, como a de tantos e tantos ursos. Porém, há que não esquecer nem descurar a brancura da apatia, da exaustão, do desespero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Andrée foi um técnico sagaz e práctico (...). Apenas tomou uma decisão insensata em toda a sua vida: a decisão de tentar alcançar o Pólo Norte num balão de hidrogénio. A sua expedição (...) estava inquinada desde o princípio. E Andrée seguramente que se apercebeu disso muito antes da partida.&lt;br /&gt;O que é que terá dado asas a tamanha loucura? Porque é que todos se entusiasmaram tanto? O que fez, então, destes homens (...) os heróis em que se tornaram?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Per Olof Sundman, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt; The Flight Of The Eagle, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ed. Pantheon Books, NYC 1970.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plan.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Planta do acampamento de inverno da expedição, desenhada por Nils Strindberg e incluida no seu diário.&lt;br /&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/desp.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Os despojos da expedição de Andrée, Frænkel e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Strindberg, fotografados em Vitön. Fotografia &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; DR.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A História de Andrée, em seis pequenas partes, foi escrita com o apoio e inspiração da seguinte bibliografia:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; - Per Olof Sundman, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt; The Flight Of The Eagle, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Ed. Pantheon Books, NYC 1970.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; - Andrée’s Story: The Complete Record Of His Polar Flight, 1897&lt;/span&gt;. Edited by the Swedish Society for Anthropology and Geography, The Viking Press, NYC 1930.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; - Wikipédia: &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/S._A._Andr%C3%A9e%27s_Arctic_balloon_expedition_of_1897"&gt;S. A. Andrée's Arctic balloon expedition of 1897&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-6743877684982106617?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/6743877684982106617/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=6743877684982106617' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6743877684982106617'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6743877684982106617'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/07/histria-de-andre-6-eplogo.html' title='a história de andrée - 6 - epílogo.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rp-j-ZeEJZI/AAAAAAAAAZA/PhKHCrk3opo/s72-c/tri.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-1660956763345210639</id><published>2007-07-18T19:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-07-22T21:25:27.925Z</updated><title type='text'>a história de andrée - 5.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rp5kDZeEJXI/AAAAAAAAAYw/IDDBjHXcP80/s1600-h/tri.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088614638514611570" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rp5kDZeEJXI/AAAAAAAAAYw/IDDBjHXcP80/s320/tri.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Salomon August Andrée, Knut Frænkel e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;s Strindberg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;...we shall continue our course to the east some time more, as long as there is as bit of sense in doing so...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Diário de Salomon August Andrée - 1 de Agosto de 1897.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Os dias que se seguem à aterragem do Örnen são de intenso trabalho de preparação da caminhada que se avizinha. Ainda assim, Strindberg tem tempo e inspiração para escrever algumas cartas à sua noiva Anna. Improvisa-se então um acampamento, calculam-se as correntes que empurram o gelo e decide-se que caminho seguir para regressar a casa. O melhor destino parece ser o Cabo Flora, nas ilhas de Franz Joseph, outrora abrigo de inverno de Fridjtof Nansen, ponto de passagem de vários baleeiros. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A dezassete de Julho de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete, Andrée abate o primeiro de muitos ursos polares que apareceriam no caminho e que se tornariam no principal mantimento dos três sobreviventes. Cinco dias depois, Andrée, Frænkel e Strinberg iniciam uma longa e penosa caminhada no gelo, arrastando pesados trenós com tendas, medicamentos, armas, mantimentos e tanta mais parafernália, rasgando caminho no gelo imperfeito, vencendo o silêncio do vento forte.&lt;br /&gt;Os dias passam iguais, sempre tão iguais. Desmonta-se a tenda, caminha-se, ao fim de seis horas come-se, caminha-se mais duas horas, monta-se a tenda, come-se outra vez e descansa-se por fim. Assim. E sempre assim, dia após dia.&lt;br /&gt;No final de um de Agosto, Strindberg ao calcular a localização da expedição apercebe-se que, por força das correntes, a expedição caminhou para trás seis quilómetros. E que pela mesma razão não consegue rumar a Este. É o primeiro duro golpe na confiança dos três caminhantes. Os planos invertem-se rapidamente e o destino passa a ser qualquer uma das Sete Ilhas, a norte de Spitsbergen.&lt;br /&gt;A treze de Agosto, a comida acaba. O desespero dura pouco: um miraculoso acaso faz com que a expedição se cruze com três ursos polares, imediatamente abatidos e transformados em provisões. Depois, segue-se caminho e mais caminho, cansaço e mais cansaço. E cada vez mais frio: o inverno está a chegar. Quinze dias após o início da caminhada, a temperatura desceu de zero para menos quatro graus centígrados. No fim de Agosto chega aos oito graus negativos. E o vento corta, agora.&lt;br /&gt;Os pés doem, as mãos queimam: a um de Setembro, todos acordam demasiado cansados e decidem nem sequer dar um passo. O dia é passado a remendar equipamentos, a descansar e a procurar novas forças para sobreviver. Três dias depois, Nils Strindberg cumpre o seu vigésimo quinto aniversário, assinalado com um almoço festivo composto por carne de urso com pão, sopa de urso e bife de urso com banha de urso.&lt;br /&gt;A quinze de Setembro de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete, os três peregrinos do gelo avistam terra, pela primeira vez desde onze de Julho. Os noruegueses chamam-lhe Kvitøya, os ingleses White Island ou Gilles Island e os suecos Vitön: uma &lt;em&gt;ilha branca&lt;/em&gt; onde o gelo pouco mais mostra que o cume de uma ou outra montanha. Em três dias dirigem-se para sul, contornando a costa gelada. É aí, com terra à vista que decidem invernar: os mantimentos, enlatados e caçados, são suficientes para muitos meses e o acampamento de inverno é erguido em poucos dias. Porém, na noite de dois de Outubro, o gelo quebra-se em pequenos pedaços e o acampamento desfaz-se e espalha-se. É um duro golpe, também. Mas &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ninguém perde a coragem&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Andrée, Strindberg e Frænkel, exaustos, doridos, com diarreias, cegueira da neve, dores de estômago, pés partidos, cãibras e profundamente desanimados, entram na terra gelada de Vitön a cinco de Outubro de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete.&lt;br /&gt;Knut Frænkel menciona uma &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;excelente situação&lt;/span&gt; a quatro e a cinco de Outubro. A dezassete, uma entrada no diário de Strindberg diz &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Home 7.05 am&lt;/span&gt;. E depois, o imenso silêncio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rp5pHZeEJYI/AAAAAAAAAY4/ijCWOE1IAns/s1600-h/Andreeexpedition.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088620204792227202" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rp5pHZeEJYI/AAAAAAAAAY4/ijCWOE1IAns/s320/Andreeexpedition.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A rota de Andrée, Frænkel e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Strindberg: em balão, a traço contínuo e a pé, a traço descontínuo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;[Carregar na imagem para ampliar]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-1660956763345210639?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/1660956763345210639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=1660956763345210639' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1660956763345210639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1660956763345210639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/07/histria-de-andre-5.html' title='a história de andrée - 5.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rp5kDZeEJXI/AAAAAAAAAYw/IDDBjHXcP80/s72-c/tri.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-4277918808658023507</id><published>2007-07-14T14:20:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-07-22T21:04:31.073Z</updated><title type='text'>a história de andrée - 4.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RpjkO5eEJWI/AAAAAAAAAYo/4Flp8wS0t4s/s1600-h/tri.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RpjkO5eEJWI/AAAAAAAAAYo/4Flp8wS0t4s/s320/tri.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5087066723711198562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Salomon August Andrée, Knut Frænkel e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nils Strindberg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;...Anchored on an ice floe 7:30 am July 14...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Diário de Nils Strindberg - 14 de Julho de 1897.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;São oito horas da manhã de catorze de julho de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete. O Örnen começa a esvaziar-se lentamente. Andrée, Frænkel e Strindberg saem do balão. Olham a paisagem branca em volta. Sentem a espessura do gelo debaixo dos seus pés. Calculam a latitude e a longitude: estão a oitenta e dois graus e cinquenta e seis minutos norte e a vinte e nove graus e cinquenta e dois minutos este. É altura de montar um acampamento para que descansem algumas horas. Depois, nada mais resta senão traçar uma rota de regresso a casa. E caminhar.&lt;br /&gt;Strindberg afasta-se uns passos com a sua câmara fotográfica. Arma o tripé, mede a luz e fotografa o inglório fim da expedição polar de Salomon August Andrée.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an08.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O Örnen, 14 de Julho de 1897. Andrée sai da cabine, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Frænkel está à direita. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fotografia de Nils Strindberg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an52.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O Örnen, 14 de Julho de 1897. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Frænkel à esquerda, Andrée à direira. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fotografia de Nils Strindberg. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-4277918808658023507?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/4277918808658023507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=4277918808658023507' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4277918808658023507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4277918808658023507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/07/histria-de-andre-4.html' title='a história de andrée - 4.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RpjkO5eEJWI/AAAAAAAAAYo/4Flp8wS0t4s/s72-c/tri.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-3690785361622326032</id><published>2007-07-13T17:29:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-07-22T21:24:21.284Z</updated><title type='text'>a história de andrée - 3.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RpbUsZeEJUI/AAAAAAAAAYY/08CayCAMvgk/s1600-h/tri.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086486688377873730" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RpbUsZeEJUI/AAAAAAAAAYY/08CayCAMvgk/s320/tri.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Salomon August Andrée, Knut Frænkel e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nils Strindberg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... descendons doucement par un sinusöid...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Diário de Nils Strindberg - 5:29 pm de 13 de Julho de 1897.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;O balão ergue-se muito devagar e afasta-se para Nordeste. Deixa para trás o porto de Virgo, os acenos de todos aqueles que ao longo de um mês o foram construindo. São treze horas e trinta minutos do dia onze de Julho de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete. Nos primeiros instantes da viagem, tudo como previsto: um ou outro ajuste de peso e a altitude estabilizada nos setecentos metros. O primeiro gelo a flutuar no oceano azul escuro é avistado às quatro e dezasseis. O vento, de sudoeste, empurra o Örnen para o seu destino. A paisagem, lá em baixo, vai-se tornando cada vez mais branca e silenciosa: não há sinais de vida e os únicos ruídos que se escutam são do gelo que se quebra e cai.&lt;br /&gt;A neblina aparece, o balão arrefece e perde altitude. Largam-se sacos de areia para voar mais alto. São vinte e duas horas, o sol brilha. Andrée decide descansar.&lt;br /&gt;O segundo dia da expedição, doze de Julho, começa com o avistar de uma densa nuvem. O Örnen não tem como lhe fugir. Ao entrar na sua espessura, arrefece e desce bruscamente. Está agora a apenas cento e vinte metros do tapete de gelo que cobre o mar. Mesmo depois de se ter desfeito de algumas dezenas de quilos. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Todo o dia é passado dentro de um intenso frio nevoeiro. Às seis da tarde, o balão raspa na superfície gelada. Vários toques no chão de gelo vão se sucedendo. Às vinte e três horas, imobiliza-se na superfície pela primeira vez. As doze horas seguintes seriam passadas assim, num doloroso sobe, desce, pára. Sobe, desce, pára.&lt;br /&gt;Ao meio dia de treze de Julho, uma das paragens no mar de gelo é aproveitada para uma refeição de faca e garfo. A primeira desde a partida. Strindberg chama-lhe o&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; dîner du 13 juillet. &lt;/span&gt;A ementa é composta por&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Potage Hotch Potch&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Chateaubriand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The King’s Special Ale&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Chocolate With Biscuits&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Biscuits with raspberry syrup and H2O.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No final da refeição, o nevoeiro levanta e deixa ver o sol. O ânimo e a força reaparecem, também. Latitude calculada de imediato: a expedição está oitenta e dois graus norte. Andrée, Strindberg e Frænkel decidem soltar pombos-correio com bilhetes a darem conta de onde se encontram e de quão bem dispostos e optimistas todos estão. Mas o sol dura pouco, como sempre. Duas horas depois, o nevoeiro regressa denso e o Örnen não levanta. Largam-se duzentos e doze quilos de carga. Em vão. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Os momentos que se seguem são passados num angustiante sobe e desce. Até que à hora sétima do dia catorze de Julho de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete, o Örnen termina o seu vôo: gelado no seu topo, desce e pousa no chão branco. Calmamente. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/poster.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Postal francês da viagem de S. A. Andrée, seguramente inspirado &lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an04dd.jpg"&gt;nesta&lt;/a&gt; e &lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/saa8a.jpg"&gt;nesta&lt;/a&gt; fotografia. © DR&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-3690785361622326032?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/3690785361622326032/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=3690785361622326032' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3690785361622326032'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3690785361622326032'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/07/histria-de-andre-3.html' title='a história de andrée - 3.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RpbUsZeEJUI/AAAAAAAAAYY/08CayCAMvgk/s72-c/tri.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-2853944305108730980</id><published>2007-07-12T23:05:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-07-22T21:29:52.227Z</updated><title type='text'>a história de andrée - 2.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RpbRRJeEJTI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/16Vczc8aOZo/s1600-h/tri.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086482921691555122" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RpbRRJeEJTI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/16Vczc8aOZo/s320/tri.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Salomon August Andrée, Knut Frænkel e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nils Strindberg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It is not a little strange to be floating here above the Polar Sea. To be the first that have floated here in a balloon. How soon, I wonder, shall we have successors? Shal we be thought mad or will our example be followed? I cannot deny that all three of us are dominated by a feeling of pride.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We think we can well face death, having done what we have done. Isn’t it all, perhaps, the expression of an extremely strong sense of individuality which cannot bear the thought of living and dying like a man in the ranks, forgotten by the coming generations? Is this ambition?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Diário de bordo da expedição de Andrée - entrada de 12 de Julho de 1897.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A ideia terá surgido a dezasseis de Março de mil oitocentos e noventa e quatro. Contemo-la assim: num qualquer evento social, o explorador polar A. E. Nordenskjold encontra Salomon August Andrée, um experiente aeronauta. Fala-lhe da possibilidade do uso de balões na exploração polar. Andrée fica encantado com a hipótese. Durante meses, entrega-se ao estudo e elaboração de um ambicioso projecto:&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; voar&lt;/span&gt; até ao Pólo Norte.&lt;br /&gt;A inovação que uma viagem de balão ao Pólo Norte traz é a velocidade a que decorre. Aproveitando o bom tempo do estio e o sopro do vento sul, Andrée estima chegar ao Pólo em menos de quarenta e três horas.&lt;br /&gt;Em mil oitocentos e noventa e cinco, Salomon August Andrée apresenta a sua ideia na Academia das Ciências de Estocolmo. Será o primeiro homem a chegar aos noventa graus Norte. E logo pelo ar. Levará consigo um fotógrafo para mapear o caminho tomado e para retratar a vida da expedição: Nils Strindberg. Um meteorologista estudará o tempo e anotará todos os detalhes da viagem: Nils Gustaf Ekholm.&lt;br /&gt;Entre vozes críticas – um suicídio, um louco – e aclamações –uma ousadia, um herói- Andrée inicia a recolha de fundos. Alfred Nobel está, tal como o rei da Suécia, entre os nóveis mecenas da construção e aprovisionamento de um balão chamado Örnen (Águia), encomendado na véspera de Natal de mil oitocentos e noventa e cinco ao francês Henri Lachambre.&lt;br /&gt;Um ano e meio mais tarde, na casa do balão, erguida em Virgo, na ilha dos Dinamarqueses, no extremo noroeste de Spitsbergen, o Örnen aguarda ansiosamente o clarear dos céus para partir para noventa graus norte. Ekholm, ao vê-lo assim construído, aponta-lhe defeitos e perigos diversos e abandona a expedição. É substituído por Knut Frænkel.&lt;br /&gt;A onze de Julho de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete, o dia amanhece azul e limpo. Finalmente. Para trás ficou uma semana de tempo instável. Todo o equipamento é colocado no balão. A tripulação pronta para dar início à aventura. Porém, dois baleeiros ancoram no porto. Dizem que do sul vem tempestade. Andrée pede uma hora para reflectir. Olha os horizontes. Mede a força dos ventos. Ouve os colegas. E conclui que chegou o momento de voar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an17.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A montagem do Örnen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;© DR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an03a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Detectando fugas de ar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;© DR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an05.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A &lt;/span&gt;Casa do Balão&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, Virgo, Ilha dos Dinamarqueses, Spitsbergen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;© DR&lt;/span&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/3740785517890142101-2853944305108730980?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/2853944305108730980/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=2853944305108730980' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2853944305108730980'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2853944305108730980'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/07/histria-de-andre-2.html' title='a história de andrée - 2.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RpbRRJeEJTI/AAAAAAAAAYQ/16Vczc8aOZo/s72-c/tri.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-1754636567632899733</id><published>2007-07-11T16:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-07-22T21:19:56.100Z</updated><title type='text'>a história de andrée - 1.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/tri.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Salomon August Andrée, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Knut Frænkel e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nils Strindberg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dispatch, July 11 . .o’cl.&lt;/span&gt;(...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Four carrier – pidgeons sent off&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;5-40 p.m. Greenw. Time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;flew eastwards. We are now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in over the ice which is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;much divided in very&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;direction. Weather magnificent&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Best of humour&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ANDRÉE STRINDBERG FRÆNKEL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Diário de bordo da expedição de Andrée - entrada de 11 de Julho de 1897.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Às treze horas e trinta minutos do dia onze de Julho de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete – precisamente há cento e dez anos e uma hora – o balão de hidrogénio &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Örnen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;partia da ilha dos Dinamarqueses, a norte de Spitsbergen, rumo ao Pólo Norte. A bordo, o cientista sueco Salomon August Andrée, acompanhado do fotógrafo Nils Strindberg e do engenheiro Knut Frænkel.&lt;br /&gt;Sessenta e cinco horas depois da partida e cerca de quinhentos e cinquenta quilómetros a norte, o balão foi forçado a aterrar no mar gelado, a uma latitude de oitenta e dois graus e cinquenta e cinco minutos Norte.&lt;br /&gt;Eram sete horas e trinta minutos da manhã de catorze de Julho. Durante quase três meses, Andrée, Strindberg e Frænkel caminharam sobre o gelo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/antes_part.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;O &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Örnen&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; instantes antes da partida, com a tripulação a postos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;© DR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/saa8a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;O&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Örnen&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt; imediatamente após levantar vôo. © DR&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/3740785517890142101-1754636567632899733?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/1754636567632899733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=1754636567632899733' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1754636567632899733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1754636567632899733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/07/dispatch-july-11.html' title='a história de andrée - 1.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-5763480401783690013</id><published>2007-07-08T19:05:00.000Z</published><updated>2008-10-08T19:08:56.788Z</updated><title type='text'>a história de andrée [completa]</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/tri.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Salomon August Andrée, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Knut Frænkel e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nils Strindberg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dispatch, July 11 . .o’cl.&lt;/span&gt;(...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Four carrier – pidgeons sent off&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;5-40 p.m. Greenw. Time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;flew eastwards. We are now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;in over the ice which is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;much divided in very&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;direction. Weather magnificent&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Best of humour&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ANDRÉE STRINDBERG FRÆNKEL&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Diário de bordo da expedição de Andrée - entrada de 11 de Julho de 1897.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Às treze horas e trinta minutos do dia onze de Julho de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete – precisamente há cento e dez anos e uma hora – o balão de hidrogénio &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Örnen&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;partia da ilha dos Dinamarqueses, a norte de Spitsbergen, rumo ao Pólo Norte. A bordo, o cientista sueco Salomon August Andrée, acompanhado do fotógrafo Nils Strindberg e do engenheiro Knut Frænkel.&lt;br /&gt;Sessenta e cinco horas depois da partida e cerca de quinhentos e cinquenta quilómetros a norte, o balão foi forçado a aterrar no mar gelado, a uma latitude de oitenta e dois graus e cinquenta e cinco minutos Norte.&lt;br /&gt;Eram sete horas e trinta minutos da manhã de catorze de Julho. Durante quase três meses, Andrée, Strindberg e Frænkel caminharam sobre o gelo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/antes_part.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;O &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;Örnen&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; instantes antes da partida, com a tripulação a postos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;© DR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/saa8a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;O&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;Örnen&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt; imediatamente após levantar vôo. © DR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;It is not a little strange to be floating here above the Polar Sea. To be the first that have floated here in a balloon. How soon, I wonder, shall we have successors? Shal we be thought mad or will our example be followed? I cannot deny that all three of us are dominated by a feeling of pride.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We think we can well face death, having done what we have done. Isn’t it all, perhaps, the expression of an extremely strong sense of individuality which cannot bear the thought of living and dying like a man in the ranks, forgotten by the coming generations? Is this ambition?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;Diário de bordo da expedição de Andrée - entrada de 12 de Julho de 1897.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A ideia terá surgido a dezasseis de Março de mil oitocentos e noventa e quatro. Contemo-la assim: num qualquer evento social, o explorador polar A. E. Nordenskjold encontra Salomon August Andrée, um experiente aeronauta. Fala-lhe da possibilidade do uso de balões na exploração polar. Andrée fica encantado com a hipótese. Durante meses, entrega-se ao estudo e elaboração de um ambicioso projecto:&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; voar&lt;/span&gt; até ao Pólo Norte.&lt;br /&gt;A inovação que uma viagem de balão ao Pólo Norte traz é a velocidade a que decorre. Aproveitando o bom tempo do estio e o sopro do vento sul, Andrée estima chegar ao Pólo em menos de quarenta e três horas.&lt;br /&gt;Em mil oitocentos e noventa e cinco, Salomon August Andrée apresenta a sua ideia na Academia das Ciências de Estocolmo. Será o primeiro homem a chegar aos noventa graus Norte. E logo pelo ar. Levará consigo um fotógrafo para mapear o caminho tomado e para retratar a vida da expedição: Nils Strindberg. Um meteorologista estudará o tempo e anotará todos os detalhes da viagem: Nils Gustaf Ekholm.&lt;br /&gt;Entre vozes críticas – um suicídio, um louco – e aclamações –uma ousadia, um herói- Andrée inicia a recolha de fundos. Alfred Nobel está, tal como o rei da Suécia, entre os nóveis mecenas da construção e aprovisionamento de um balão chamado Örnen (Águia), encomendado na véspera de Natal de mil oitocentos e noventa e cinco ao francês Henri Lachambre.&lt;br /&gt;Um ano e meio mais tarde, na casa do balão, erguida em Virgo, na ilha dos Dinamarqueses, no extremo noroeste de Spitsbergen, o Örnen aguarda ansiosamente o clarear dos céus para partir para noventa graus norte. Ekholm, ao vê-lo assim construído, aponta-lhe defeitos e perigos diversos e abandona a expedição. É substituído por Knut Frænkel.&lt;br /&gt;A onze de Julho de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete, o dia amanhece azul e limpo. Finalmente. Para trás ficou uma semana de tempo instável. Todo o equipamento é colocado no balão. A tripulação pronta para dar início à aventura. Porém, dois baleeiros ancoram no porto. Dizem que do sul vem tempestade. Andrée pede uma hora para reflectir. Olha os horizontes. Mede a força dos ventos. Ouve os colegas. E conclui que chegou o momento de voar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an17.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A montagem do Örnen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;© DR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an03a.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Detectando fugas de ar.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;© DR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an05.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;A &lt;/span&gt;Casa do Balão&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, Virgo, Ilha dos Dinamarqueses, Spitsbergen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;© DR&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;... descendons doucement par un sinusöid...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;Diário de Nils Strindberg - 5:29 pm de 13 de Julho de 1897.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;O balão ergue-se muito devagar e afasta-se para Nordeste. Deixa para trás o porto de Virgo, os acenos de todos aqueles que ao longo de um mês o foram construindo. São treze horas e trinta minutos do dia onze de Julho de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete. Nos primeiros instantes da viagem, tudo como previsto: um ou outro ajuste de peso e a altitude estabilizada nos setecentos metros. O primeiro gelo a flutuar no oceano azul escuro é avistado às quatro e dezasseis. O vento, de sudoeste, empurra o Örnen para o seu destino. A paisagem, lá em baixo, vai-se tornando cada vez mais branca e silenciosa: não há sinais de vida e os únicos ruídos que se escutam são do gelo que se quebra e cai.&lt;br /&gt;A neblina aparece, o balão arrefece e perde altitude. Largam-se sacos de areia para voar mais alto. São vinte e duas horas, o sol brilha. Andrée decide descansar.&lt;br /&gt;O segundo dia da expedição, doze de Julho, começa com o avistar de uma densa nuvem. O Örnen não tem como lhe fugir. Ao entrar na sua espessura, arrefece e desce bruscamente. Está agora a apenas cento e vinte metros do tapete de gelo que cobre o mar. Mesmo depois de se ter desfeito de algumas dezenas de quilos. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Todo o dia é passado dentro de um intenso frio nevoeiro. Às seis da tarde, o balão raspa na superfície gelada. Vários toques no chão de gelo vão se sucedendo. Às vinte e três horas, imobiliza-se na superfície pela primeira vez. As doze horas seguintes seriam passadas assim, num doloroso sobe, desce, pára. Sobe, desce, pára.&lt;br /&gt;Ao meio dia de treze de Julho, uma das paragens no mar de gelo é aproveitada para uma refeição de faca e garfo. A primeira desde a partida. Strindberg chama-lhe o&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; dîner du 13 juillet. &lt;/span&gt;A ementa é composta por&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Potage Hotch Potch&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Chateaubriand&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The King’s Special Ale&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Chocolate With Biscuits&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Biscuits with raspberry syrup and H2O.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No final da refeição, o nevoeiro levanta e deixa ver o sol. O ânimo e a força reaparecem, também. Latitude calculada de imediato: a expedição está oitenta e dois graus norte. Andrée, Strindberg e Frænkel decidem soltar pombos-correio com bilhetes a darem conta de onde se encontram e de quão bem dispostos e optimistas todos estão. Mas o sol dura pouco, como sempre. Duas horas depois, o nevoeiro regressa denso e o Örnen não levanta. Largam-se duzentos e doze quilos de carga. Em vão. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Os momentos que se seguem são passados num angustiante sobe e desce. Até que à hora sétima do dia catorze de Julho de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete, o Örnen termina o seu vôo: gelado no seu topo, desce e pousa no chão branco. Calmamente. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/poster.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Postal francês da viagem de S. A. Andrée, seguramente inspirado &lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an04dd.jpg"&gt;nesta&lt;/a&gt; e &lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/saa8a.jpg"&gt;nesta&lt;/a&gt; fotografia. © DR&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;...Anchored on an ice floe 7:30 am July 14...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;Diário de Nils Strindberg - 14 de Julho de 1897.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;São oito horas da manhã de catorze de julho de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete. O Örnen começa a esvaziar-se lentamente. Andrée, Frænkel e Strindberg saem do balão. Olham a paisagem branca em volta. Sentem a espessura do gelo debaixo dos seus pés. Calculam a latitude e a longitude: estão a oitenta e dois graus e cinquenta e seis minutos norte e a vinte e nove graus e cinquenta e dois minutos este. É altura de montar um acampamento para que descansem algumas horas. Depois, nada mais resta senão traçar uma rota de regresso a casa. E caminhar.&lt;br /&gt;Strindberg afasta-se uns passos com a sua câmara fotográfica. Arma o tripé, mede a luz e fotografa o inglório fim da expedição polar de Salomon August Andrée.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an08.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O Örnen, 14 de Julho de 1897. Andrée sai da cabine, &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Frænkel está à direita. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fotografia de Nils Strindberg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/an52.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;O Örnen, 14 de Julho de 1897. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Frænkel à esquerda, Andrée à direira. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Fotografia de Nils Strindberg. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;...we shall continue our course to the east some time more, as long as there is as bit of sense in doing so...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;Diário de Salomon August Andrée - 1 de Agosto de 1897.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Os dias que se seguem à aterragem do Örnen são de intenso trabalho de preparação da caminhada que se avizinha. Ainda assim, Strindberg tem tempo e inspiração para escrever algumas cartas à sua noiva Anna. Improvisa-se então um acampamento, calculam-se as correntes que empurram o gelo e decide-se que caminho seguir para regressar a casa. O melhor destino parece ser o Cabo Flora, nas ilhas de Franz Joseph, outrora abrigo de inverno de Fridjtof Nansen, ponto de passagem de vários baleeiros. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A dezassete de Julho de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete, Andrée abate o primeiro de muitos ursos polares que apareceriam no caminho e que se tornariam no principal mantimento dos três sobreviventes. Cinco dias depois, Andrée, Frænkel e Strinberg iniciam uma longa e penosa caminhada no gelo, arrastando pesados trenós com tendas, medicamentos, armas, mantimentos e tanta mais parafernália, rasgando caminho no gelo imperfeito, vencendo o silêncio do vento forte.&lt;br /&gt;Os dias passam iguais, sempre tão iguais. Desmonta-se a tenda, caminha-se, ao fim de seis horas come-se, caminha-se mais duas horas, monta-se a tenda, come-se outra vez e descansa-se por fim. Assim. E sempre assim, dia após dia.&lt;br /&gt;No final de um de Agosto, Strindberg ao calcular a localização da expedição apercebe-se que, por força das correntes, a expedição caminhou para trás seis quilómetros. E que pela mesma razão não consegue rumar a Este. É o primeiro duro golpe na confiança dos três caminhantes. Os planos invertem-se rapidamente e o destino passa a ser qualquer uma das Sete Ilhas, a norte de Spitsbergen.&lt;br /&gt;A treze de Agosto, a comida acaba. O desespero dura pouco: um miraculoso acaso faz com que a expedição se cruze com três ursos polares, imediatamente abatidos e transformados em provisões. Depois, segue-se caminho e mais caminho, cansaço e mais cansaço. E cada vez mais frio: o inverno está a chegar. Quinze dias após o início da caminhada, a temperatura desceu de zero para menos quatro graus centígrados. No fim de Agosto chega aos oito graus negativos. E o vento corta, agora.&lt;br /&gt;Os pés doem, as mãos queimam: a um de Setembro, todos acordam demasiado cansados e decidem nem sequer dar um passo. O dia é passado a remendar equipamentos, a descansar e a procurar novas forças para sobreviver. Três dias depois, Nils Strindberg cumpre o seu vigésimo quinto aniversário, assinalado com um almoço festivo composto por carne de urso com pão, sopa de urso e bife de urso com banha de urso.&lt;br /&gt;A quinze de Setembro de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete, os três peregrinos do gelo avistam terra, pela primeira vez desde onze de Julho. Os noruegueses chamam-lhe Kvitøya, os ingleses White Island ou Gilles Island e os suecos Vitön: uma &lt;em&gt;ilha branca&lt;/em&gt; onde o gelo pouco mais mostra que o cume de uma ou outra montanha. Em três dias dirigem-se para sul, contornando a costa gelada. É aí, com terra à vista que decidem invernar: os mantimentos, enlatados e caçados, são suficientes para muitos meses e o acampamento de inverno é erguido em poucos dias. Porém, na noite de dois de Outubro, o gelo quebra-se em pequenos pedaços e o acampamento desfaz-se e espalha-se. É um duro golpe, também. Mas &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ninguém perde a coragem&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Andrée, Strindberg e Frænkel, exaustos, doridos, com diarreias, cegueira da neve, dores de estômago, pés partidos, cãibras e profundamente desanimados, entram na terra gelada de Vitön a cinco de Outubro de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete.&lt;br /&gt;Knut Frænkel menciona uma &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;excelente situação&lt;/span&gt; a quatro e a cinco de Outubro. A dezassete, uma entrada no diário de Strindberg diz &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Home 7.05 am&lt;/span&gt;. E depois, o imenso silêncio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rp5pHZeEJYI/AAAAAAAAAY4/ijCWOE1IAns/s1600-h/Andreeexpedition.png"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5088620204792227202" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rp5pHZeEJYI/AAAAAAAAAY4/ijCWOE1IAns/s320/Andreeexpedition.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A rota de Andrée, Frænkel e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Strindberg: em balão, a traço contínuo e a pé, a traço descontínuo&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;[Carregar na imagem para ampliar]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Salomon August Andrée, Knut Frænkel e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nil&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;s Strindberg&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 100%;"&gt;Posterity has expressed surprise that they died on Kvitøya, surrounded by food. (...) The surprise is rather that they found the strength to live so long"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;Rolf Kjellström &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;The Centennial of S.A. Andrée's North Pole Expedition: Proceedings of a Conference on S.A. Andrée.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;O &lt;a href="http://ku-prism.org/polarscientist/andreemystery/andreeindex.html"&gt;mistério de Andrée&lt;/a&gt; começa a quinze de Julho de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete. É nesta data que é encontrada a antepenúltima notícia da expedição: o navio norueguês Alken apanha um dos pombos correios largados do balão Örnen. Na mensagem, destinada ao jornal sueco Aftonbladet, podia ler-se um animador tudo bem a bordo. Em mil oitocentos e noventa e nove, bem como no ano seguinte, são encontradas mais duas mensagens enviadas por Andrée ainda durante o vôo do Örnen. Ambas mencionam o elevado optimismo e a excelente condição de todos.&lt;br /&gt;Trinta e três anos depois da viagem de Andrée, a expedição de Gunnar Horn, a bordo do veleiro Braatvag, atraca em Vitön. Tal como em mil oitocentos e noventa e sete, o Verão polar de mil novecentos e trinta é particularmente quente e deixa ver o cume das montanhas da ilha branca. Olaf Salen e Karl Tusvik, marinheiros, vão a terra. Vêem a ponta negra de um batel, mancha indisfarçável na paisagem. Acercam-se e lêem Andrees polarexp. O mistério está desfeito. Ali está, quase intacto, o acampamento de inverno da expedição de mil oitocentos e noventa e sete. Mais à frente, a sepultura de Nils Strindberg. Dentro da tenda, os corpos de Knut Frænkel e Salomon August Andrée, lado a lado e rodeados por inúmeros objectos conservados pelo gelo, desde utensílios e diários da viagem até aos rolos fotográficos de Strindberg.&lt;br /&gt;Termina um mistério, outro começa: se é lógico que Strindberg foi o primeiro a morrer, como pereceram os outros dois exploradores? Ao lado dos seus corpos, restos de provisões ainda por consumir. E peles de urso. E uma salamandra desligada cheia de parafina. O que exclui a fome, o frio e o envenenamento por monóxido de carbono como causas de morte. Hoje, volvidos quase cento e dez anos, apontam-se como causas prováveis da morte dos exploradores o &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Botulismo"&gt;botulismo&lt;/a&gt; e a &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Triquinose"&gt;triquinose&lt;/a&gt;: infecções virais provocadas pela ingestão de carnes contaminadas, como a de tantos e tantos ursos. Porém, há que não esquecer nem descurar a brancura da apatia, da exaustão, do desespero.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Andrée foi um técnico sagaz e práctico (...). Apenas tomou uma decisão insensata em toda a sua vida: a decisão de tentar alcançar o Pólo Norte num balão de hidrogénio. A sua expedição (...) estava inquinada desde o princípio. E Andrée seguramente que se apercebeu disso muito antes da partida.&lt;br /&gt;O que é que terá dado asas a tamanha loucura? Porque é que todos se entusiasmaram tanto? O que fez, então, destes homens (...) os heróis em que se tornaram?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;Per Olof Sundman, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt; The Flight Of The Eagle, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;Ed. Pantheon Books, NYC 1970.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plan.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Planta do acampamento de inverno da expedição, desenhada por Nils Strindberg e incluida no seu diário.&lt;br /&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; Grenna Museum.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/desp.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Os despojos da expedição de Andrée, Frænkel e &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Strindberg, fotografados em Vitön. Fotografia &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;©&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt; DR.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;A História de Andrée, em seis pequenas partes, foi escrita com o apoio e inspiração da seguinte bibliografia:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt; - Per Olof Sundman, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-size: 85%;"&gt; The Flight Of The Eagle, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;Ed. Pantheon Books, NYC 1970.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; - Andrée’s Story: The Complete Record Of His Polar Flight, 1897&lt;/span&gt;. Edited by the Swedish Society for Anthropology and Geography, The Viking Press, NYC 1930.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 85%;"&gt; - Wikipédia: &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/S._A._Andr%C3%A9e%27s_Arctic_balloon_expedition_of_1897"&gt;S. A. Andrée's Arctic balloon expedition of 1897&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-5763480401783690013?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/5763480401783690013/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=5763480401783690013' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5763480401783690013'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5763480401783690013'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/07/histria-de-andre-completa.html' title='a história de andrée [completa]'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rp5pHZeEJYI/AAAAAAAAAY4/ijCWOE1IAns/s72-c/Andreeexpedition.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-1159819235814909870</id><published>2007-07-05T17:59:00.001Z</published><updated>2007-07-05T18:01:53.141Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 9 - nome, alaska.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Ro0xmQBNPnI/AAAAAAAAAX4/r0HkxLt_Jn0/s1600-h/nome4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Ro0xmQBNPnI/AAAAAAAAAX4/r0HkxLt_Jn0/s320/nome4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083774087575977586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Nome, vista de balão, em 1900. Postal publicado por Edward H. Mitchell, San Francisco.&lt;/span&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/3740785517890142101-1159819235814909870?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/1159819235814909870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=1159819235814909870' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1159819235814909870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1159819235814909870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/07/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-9-nome-alaska.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 9 - nome, alaska.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Ro0xmQBNPnI/AAAAAAAAAX4/r0HkxLt_Jn0/s72-c/nome4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-2650922195461041153</id><published>2007-07-05T17:51:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-07-05T18:07:30.178Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 8 - ukivok, alaska.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Ro0wngBNPmI/AAAAAAAAAXw/QElxZ8SbWa0/s1600-h/line0189.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Ro0wngBNPmI/AAAAAAAAAXw/QElxZ8SbWa0/s320/line0189.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5083773009539186274" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Ukivok &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;(King Island)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;, aldeia abandonada, Alaska, Junho de 1978. Fotografia do Capitão Budd Christman.&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-2650922195461041153?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/2650922195461041153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=2650922195461041153' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2650922195461041153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2650922195461041153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/07/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-8-ukivok.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 8 - ukivok, alaska.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Ro0wngBNPmI/AAAAAAAAAXw/QElxZ8SbWa0/s72-c/line0189.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-6275878876865788888</id><published>2007-07-03T12:39:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-07-03T12:15:07.618Z</updated><title type='text'>on ice.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;"There is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;young ice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;, a thin film that first covers the sea in autumn and soon thickens to &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;bay ice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;. This is churned by rough seas to form &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;pancake ice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;. There is a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;field&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt; fifteen or twenty feet thick, whose surface&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;stretches the horizon, that sometimes starts spinning - a gigantic mass more than ten  thousand&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;million tons in weight smashing into another field of equal size. A &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;pack&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; is a mass of small pieces extensive as a field. There is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;sludge&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt; fragmentary remains of the&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;wreckage of all sorts of ice that has become  saturated by the sea. Ice&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;that is badly melted and honeycombed is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;rotten&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt; A &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;calf&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; is a piece of ice that breaks away from the lower part&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;of a field or berg and shoots violently to the surface. There are &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;icebergs&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt; mountains of ice, sometimes&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;the color of sapphires  or emeralds, endlessly different in form - the compelling source of great beauty, great terrot. The &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;ice blink&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; is a peculiar whitish glow in the sky that denotes the presence of &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;extended ice&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;; the &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;l&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and blink&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt; is a yellow light, and a blue streak, which spells open water, is a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;water sky&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;. A ship can go through a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;lane&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt; a narrow channel between pack ice, or through a &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;lead&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt; a direct line of water; it can be &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;beset&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt; imovably held by surrounding ice; it can be &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:180%;" &gt;nipped&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;,&lt;/span&gt; its sides forcibly pressed in by&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;the ice;  it can be cut&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;in two, crushed, buried."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Jeanette Mirsky, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;To The Arctic! The Story of Northern Exploration from Earliest Times to the Present&lt;/span&gt;. Univ. of Chicago Press, 1970, pp 6-7.&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/3740785517890142101-6275878876865788888?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/6275878876865788888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=6275878876865788888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6275878876865788888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6275878876865788888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/02/there-is-young-ice-thin-film-that-first.html' title='on ice.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-2223482053714081068</id><published>2007-06-28T22:38:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-29T10:20:00.152Z</updated><title type='text'>as três cartas.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RoTbMABNPkI/AAAAAAAAAXg/Id6LcIgERs4/s1600-h/assetimage.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5081427278790737474" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RoTbMABNPkI/AAAAAAAAAXg/Id6LcIgERs4/s320/assetimage.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;A carta de Barents, escrita em mil quinhentos e noventa e sete e encontrada na casa de Ice Haven, em mil oitocentos e setenta e um, por Elling Carlsen. Actualmente, encontra-se no &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.rijksmuseum.nl/zoeken/search.jsp?lang=en&amp;amp;query=barents"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Rijksmuseum&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; de Amsterdão.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em Junho de mil quinhentos e noventa e sete a frota de Willem Barents está pronta para partir de Ice Haven, Nova Zemlya, rumo a casa. O grande &lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/svalbard-histria-repete-se.html"&gt;navegador&lt;/a&gt; escreve três cartas onde conta: &lt;em&gt;como ali chegou vindo da Holanda, rumo ao reino da China, o que aconteceu à sua frota para ter de &lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/06/invernar.html"&gt;&lt;em&gt;invernar&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;em&gt; ali durante dez meses, tendo que construir, em extremas condições de pobreza e miséria, uma casa de madeira, e como agora tinha finalmente chegada a hora de partir para casa, em dois pequenos batéis, perdido que estava o navio onde vieram&lt;/em&gt; *. Uma das cartas é colocada na chaminé da casa, cada uma das outras vai em cada um dos batéis. Treze de Junho. A água está aberta. Os pequenos barcos partem. Dezasseis de Junho. Barents diz a &lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/o-sol-rectngulo-de-gerrit-de-veer.html"&gt;de Veer&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;em&gt;Gerrit, estamos no Cabo de Gelo, levanta-me, tenho que vê-lo uma vez mais&lt;/em&gt; *.&lt;br /&gt;Quatro dias depois, a caminho de casa, o &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Willem_Barents"&gt;grande explorador&lt;/a&gt; viveria a sua última hora, ali no &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mar_de_Barents"&gt;mar&lt;/a&gt; que tomaria o nome seu.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Adaptado de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/06/fac-smile.html"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;The Three Voyages Of William Barents to the Arctic Regions(1594, 1595, 1596), de Gerrit de Veer, Ed. Elibron Classics, 2005 (fac-símile da edição de 1876 da Hakluyt Society).&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-2223482053714081068?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/2223482053714081068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=2223482053714081068' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2223482053714081068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2223482053714081068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/06/as-trs-cartas.html' title='as três cartas.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RoTbMABNPkI/AAAAAAAAAXg/Id6LcIgERs4/s72-c/assetimage.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-8703227543247342311</id><published>2007-06-28T22:23:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-28T22:36:08.037Z</updated><title type='text'>a imagem do círculo (5) - peder balke.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/cat_008_49917.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Peder Balke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;: Stedtind i tåke, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;1864. 71 x 58 cm, Galeria Nacional, Oslo, Noruega.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;"I can't begin to describe how elated I was at having seen and re-tread the land, once again, after satisfying my deep longing to see the northern provinces. No easier is it for me to pen my thoughts on which sublime and mesmerizing impressions the wealth of natural beauty and unrivalled settings leave upon the mind of an observer. These impressions not only overwhelmed me for a brief moment, but they, too, influenced my entire future since I never yet, neither abroad nor other places in our country, have had the occasion to gaze at something so awe-inspiring and exciting as that which I observed during this journey to Finnmark. Unsurpassed in the northern provinces is the beauty of nature, while humans - nature's children - play but a minor role, in comparison." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peder Balke (mil oitocentos e quatro - mil oitocentos e oitenta e sete) in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Memoirs&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/3740785517890142101-8703227543247342311?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/8703227543247342311/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=8703227543247342311' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8703227543247342311'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8703227543247342311'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/06/imagem-do-crculo-5-peder-balke.html' title='a imagem do círculo (5) - peder balke.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-2012526757895420475</id><published>2007-06-22T12:24:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-24T21:39:01.753Z</updated><title type='text'>fac-símile.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;THE&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;T r u e a n d p e r f e c t D e -&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;scription of three Voy-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;ages so strange and woonderfull,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;that the like hath neuer been&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;heard of before:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Done and performed three times, one after the other, by the Ships&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;of &lt;em&gt;Holland&lt;/em&gt; and &lt;em&gt;Zeland&lt;/em&gt;, on the North Sides of &lt;em&gt;Norway&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;Muscouia&lt;/em&gt; and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Tartaria&lt;/em&gt;, towards the Kingdomes of Cathaia &amp; China; shewing&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;the discouerie of the Straights of &lt;em&gt;Weigates&lt;/em&gt;, &lt;em&gt;Noua Zembla&lt;/em&gt;,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;and the Countrie lying vnder 80 degrees; wich is &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;thought to be &lt;em&gt;Greenland&lt;/em&gt;: where neuer any man had&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;bin before: with the cruell Beares, and other &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Monsters of the Sea, and the vnsupport-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;able and extreame cold that is&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;found to be in those&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;places.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;And how that in the last Voyage, the Shippe was so inclosed by&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;the Ice, that it was left there, whereby the men were forced to build a&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;house in the cold and desart Countrie of &lt;em&gt;Noua Zembla&lt;/em&gt;, wherin&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;they continued 10. monthes togeather, and neuer saw nor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;heard of any man, in most freat cold and extreame&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;miserie; and how after that, to saue their liues, they&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;were constrained to sayle aboue 560. Dutch&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;miles, which is aboue 1000. miles English,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;in litle open Boates, along and ouer the&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;maine Seas, in most great daunger,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;and with extreame labour, vn-&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;speackable troubles, and&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;great hunger.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;_______________________________________________________________&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;_______________________________________________________________&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Imprinted at London for &lt;em&gt;T. Pauier&lt;/em&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;1609.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;As memórias das &lt;em&gt;três viagens de Willem Barents às regiões árcticas&lt;/em&gt; foram escritas por &lt;a href="http://nl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gerrit_de_Veer"&gt;Gerrit de Veer&lt;/a&gt;, tripulante (físico? carpinteiro? navegador?) da frota do navegador holandês. A primeira impressão, em neerlandês, data de mil quinhentos e noventa e oito. Nesse mesmo ano, foram também editadas versões em latim e em francês. &lt;a href="http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Levinus_Hulsius"&gt;Levinus Hulsius&lt;/a&gt;, o editor, traduziu a obra para alemão, redesenhou as chapas originais da edição neerlandesa e publicou estas memórias em Nuremberga, a dez de agosto de mil quinhentos e noventa e oito. Um ano depois, apareceu em Veneza, a edição italiana. Em mil seiscentos e nove surgiu &lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/facsimile.jpg"&gt;esta edição na língua inglesa,&lt;/a&gt; que inclui as chapas desenhadas por Hulsius. Seria republicada, pela Hakluyt Society, em mil oitocentos e cinquenta e três e em mil oitocentos e setenta e seis. Desta última edição, a Elibron Classics publicou, em dois mil e cinco, &lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/elibron.jpg"&gt;uma edição fac-similada&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/3740785517890142101-2012526757895420475?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/2012526757895420475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=2012526757895420475' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2012526757895420475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2012526757895420475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/06/fac-smile.html' title='fac-símile.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-9040954066816347205</id><published>2007-06-20T15:09:00.001Z</published><updated>2007-06-28T11:54:34.814Z</updated><title type='text'>invernar.</title><content type='html'>No fim do Verão, é forçoso parar. Vêm aí as longas noites polares, feitas de escuridão azul, de tempestades de gelo, de luares aterradores. Gelam-se os mares e os barcos não navegam mais. Erguem-se no gelo, estalam com a pressão ou unicamente ali ficam, presos. Então, os viajantes invernam: escolhem um abrigado porto, protegido dos ventos, e esperam. Esperam que o tempo passe. Dormem. Caçam. Estudam. Esperam mais. Muitas vezes, o recomeço da viagem acontece em Junho, quando o derreter dos gelos permite que o mar reapareça na paisagem branca. Para trás estão nove longos e penosos meses de noite, de desespero, de fome, de frio e de morte. Como passa o tempo e a vida pela longa noite polar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RnwYN348JzI/AAAAAAAAAXI/_R5dlpdZ5ac/s1600-h/hulsius1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RnwYN348JzI/AAAAAAAAAXI/_R5dlpdZ5ac/s320/hulsius1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078961106387216178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Levinus Hulsius: "The Exact Manner Of The House Wherein We Wintered" in &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;De Veer Narrative&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;, 1609. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;William Barents foi o primeiro explorador a invernar com sucesso no Árctico. Aconteceu por acaso, nos finais de Agosto de mil quinhentos e noventa e seis, na sua terceira viagem aos mares frios. No regresso de Spitsbergen, a frota do holandês fica presa no gelo em Nova Zemlya, num lugar a que chamaram Ice Haven. Aí construiram uma casa de madeira para onde transportaram tudo o que tinham nos navios: ferramentas, utensílios, instrumentos, livros, roupas e um relógio. Durante dez meses, lá permaneceram ao frio, à fome e à noite, à espera do passar do tempo, interrompidos apenas pela presença de ursos polares. Para se entreterem, iam celebrando efemérides: o dia de reis foi assinalado com panquecas e biscoitos e vinho, &lt;em&gt;fingindo que estávamos o nosso país, entre nossos amigos, o que nos confortou tantoa quanto se tivéssemos feito um banquete nas nossas próprias casas &lt;/em&gt;*. O armeiro da frota foi mesmo eleito o rei de Nova Zemlya. Assim passaram os dias e os meses. Assim se viu, pela primeira vez, &lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/o-sol-rectngulo-de-gerrit-de-veer.html"&gt;o sol rectângulo&lt;/a&gt;. Em Junho de mil quinhentos e noventa e sete, Barents e a sua frota regressaram a casa, deixando ao gelo e ao tempo a primeira casa de inverno polar. (Encontrada, intacta, duzentos e oitenta e cinco anos depois pelo norueguês Elling Carlsen. Lá dentro, em perfeito estado de conservação, as ferramentas, utensílios, instrumentos, livros, roupas e o relógio). &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em mil seiscentos e trinta e um, duas frotas holandesas decidem invernar em Jan Mayen e em &lt;a href="http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/svalbard-histria-repete-se.html"&gt;Smeerenburg&lt;/a&gt;. Se a primeira encarou o inverno temendo a Deus, rezando e dormindo, a segunda, também o fazendo, decidiu não se ficar por aí. Para entretenimento dos seus homens, organizaram-se caçadas a ursos, banquetes de carne fresca. Chegou mesmo a fazer-se o Carnaval de Spitsbergen. Com a chegada do dia polar, a comitiva de Spitsbergen fez-se às águas e regressou a casa. Em Jan Mayen, a morte assolou o inverno da comitiva. Ninguém sobreviveu e Jan Mayen tornou-se terra assolada pela passagem do diabo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RnwYan48J0I/AAAAAAAAAXQ/6nJ1SchfqgI/s1600-h/nggwc.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RnwYan48J0I/AAAAAAAAAXQ/6nJ1SchfqgI/s320/nggwc.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078961325430548290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Fac-símile da primeira página da North Georgia Gazette de seis de Março de mil oitocentos e vinte, publicada em &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Journal Of A Voyage For The Discovery Of The N.W. Passage In 1819-1820&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;, de Edward Parry.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Os invernos polares sucedem-se, entre sucessos e fracassos. Deuses e diabos ficam de fora quando se fala de invernar no círculo do urso. É necessário não sentir o tempo passar enquanto o tempo passa. Assim pensava Edward Parry quando, nos primeiros dias de mil oitocentos e dezanove, chegou a Melville Island. O avanço do frio e do gelo fê-lo procurar abrigo e ancorou num pequeno porto a que chamou de Winter Harbour. Para que os seus homens aproveitassem o convés para fazerem exercício, Parry mandou cobrir os seus navios, Hecla e Gripper, fazendo deles duas enormes tendas. Todos os dias, fazia-se pão e o fabrico de cerveja só era interrompido pelo extremo frio. Criou-se também uma escola, onde se ensinava a ler e a escrever inglês. O Capitão Sabine tornou-se no chefe de redacção do semanário North Georgia Gazette &amp;amp; Winter Chronicle. O Natal foi celebrado com a apresentação de uma operetta denominada de Northwest Passage. E assim passou o tempo: sem se dar por ele. Em Julho de mil oitocentos e vinte, a comitiva de Parry estava pronta para continuar as suas explorações.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;O ofício de invernar no Círculo do Urso estava, finalmente, compreendido pelo Homem. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;* &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;tradução livre do escrito em&lt;em&gt; The Three Voyages Of William Barents to the Arctic Regions&lt;/em&gt; (1594, 1595, 1596), de Gerrit de Veer, Ed. Elibron Classics, 2005 (fac-símile da edição de 1876 da Hakluyt Society).&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/3740785517890142101-9040954066816347205?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/9040954066816347205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=9040954066816347205' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/9040954066816347205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/9040954066816347205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/06/invernar.html' title='invernar.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RnwYN348JzI/AAAAAAAAAXI/_R5dlpdZ5ac/s72-c/hulsius1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-7924602701868453444</id><published>2007-06-13T22:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:15:26.405Z</updated><title type='text'>malström.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RnB3u348JiI/AAAAAAAAAVA/G5FKQLQuCUU/s1600-h/omagnusmls.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075688427207009826" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RnB3u348JiI/AAAAAAAAAVA/G5FKQLQuCUU/s320/omagnusmls.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Malström desenhado por Olaus Magnus, in Historia de Gentibus Septentrionalibus, 1555.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Isto podia explicar-se assim: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;e os mares gelados de Moskenes abrir-se-ão em poderosos remoinhos, mostrando a terra bem lá no seu fundo, engolindo barcos e homens, provando a ira dos deuses&lt;/span&gt;. Ou assim: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;malström é o nome dado a um conjunto de poderosas correntes e remoinhos estendidos, à tona da água, por vários quilómetros, na região norueguesa de Lofoten&lt;/span&gt;. Do temor à descoberta, de Piteias a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Descent_into_the_Maelstrom"&gt;Edgar Allan Poe&lt;/a&gt;: desde há dois mil anos que o mistério do malström fascina o homem que viaja pelo Norte&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RnB3nn48JhI/AAAAAAAAAU4/vI8f23Rvvoo/s1600-h/maelstrom_jcuny.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5075688302652958226" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RnB3nn48JhI/AAAAAAAAAU4/vI8f23Rvvoo/s320/maelstrom_jcuny.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Malström fotografado por Jérôme Cuny em 2003.&lt;/em&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/3740785517890142101-7924602701868453444?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/7924602701868453444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=7924602701868453444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7924602701868453444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7924602701868453444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/06/malstrm.html' title='malström.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RnB3u348JiI/AAAAAAAAAVA/G5FKQLQuCUU/s72-c/omagnusmls.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-7335596650826292898</id><published>2007-06-08T19:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:14:54.357Z</updated><title type='text'>fantásticos espaços do círculo: estreito de anian.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RfX8zkcSMnI/AAAAAAAAAGw/nWgl8xt7yn0/s1600-h/anian.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041213320796975730" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RfX8zkcSMnI/AAAAAAAAAGw/nWgl8xt7yn0/s320/anian.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;O Estreito de Anian, a nordeste da &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;ilha&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt; da Califórnia, no mapa de Pieter Goos de 1668.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;O Estreito de Anian aparece em mapas desde o século XVI. Dizem que a sua descoberta se ficou a dever ao castelhano Ferrer Maldonado. Segundo alguns relatos, este marinheiro partiu de Acapulco em mil quinhentos e oitenta e oito, numa tentativa de encontrar uma passagem nordeste entre o Pacífico e o Atlântico. No regresso, escreveu a “Relación del Descubrimiento del Estrecho de Anian en 1588,” cheia de descrições fantásticas que influenciaram inúmeras gerações de exploradores, marinheiros e cartógrafos até ao século XIX. Em mil setecentos e noventa e três, porém, William Goldson escreve "Observations on the Passage Between the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, in Two Memoirs on the Straits of Anian, and the Discoveries of De Fonte. Elucidated by a New and Original Map. . . Portsmouth, 1793" e atribui a descoberta do Estreito de Anian a Juan de Fuca, nome pelo qual ficou conhecido Apostolos Valerianos, marinheiro grego ao serviço da armada espanhola. Segundo Goldson, De Fuca navegou para norte, desde a Califórnia, tendo atingido a latitude de quarenta e sete graus Norte . Aí encontrou um canal para nordeste. No fim do canal, uma enorme rocha assinalava o fim da terra e o começo de um largo mar, por onde De Fuca navegou durante vinte dias sem avistar terra, o que o fez concluir que estaria no Atlântico, tendo encontrado a passagem nordeste: precisamente através do Estreito de Anian. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-7335596650826292898?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/7335596650826292898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=7335596650826292898' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7335596650826292898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7335596650826292898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/02/fantsticos-espaos-do-crculo-estreito-de.html' title='fantásticos espaços do círculo: estreito de anian.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RfX8zkcSMnI/AAAAAAAAAGw/nWgl8xt7yn0/s72-c/anian.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-905116974053395996</id><published>2007-06-08T17:24:00.001Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:14:30.917Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 7 - longyearbyen.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RmmQ8n48JfI/AAAAAAAAAUo/maUUWSd7BcY/s1600-h/longyearcity1958.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073745826383930866" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RmmQ8n48JfI/AAAAAAAAAUo/maUUWSd7BcY/s320/longyearcity1958.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Longyearbyen, Svalbard, 1958. Autor desconhecido.&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/3740785517890142101-905116974053395996?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/905116974053395996/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=905116974053395996' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/905116974053395996'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/905116974053395996'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/06/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-7.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 7 - longyearbyen.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RmmQ8n48JfI/AAAAAAAAAUo/maUUWSd7BcY/s72-c/longyearcity1958.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-4978128030721318268</id><published>2007-06-08T12:07:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:14:06.164Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 6 - tracy arm, alaska.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RmmQjX48JeI/AAAAAAAAAUg/ilGbEvPSOf0/s1600-h/tracy_arm.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5073745392592233954" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RmmQjX48JeI/AAAAAAAAAUg/ilGbEvPSOf0/s320/tracy_arm.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt; Fotografia do Comandante John Bortniak, tirada em 1991.&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/3740785517890142101-4978128030721318268?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/4978128030721318268/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=4978128030721318268' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4978128030721318268'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4978128030721318268'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/04/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-6-tracy-arm.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 6 - tracy arm, alaska.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RmmQjX48JeI/AAAAAAAAAUg/ilGbEvPSOf0/s72-c/tracy_arm.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-8252247684084527984</id><published>2007-05-31T22:37:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:13:53.293Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 5 - franz joseph land.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rl9Ojm5sjXI/AAAAAAAAAUI/v1ReTg5GITU/s1600-h/fjl.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rl9Ojm5sjXI/AAAAAAAAAUI/v1ReTg5GITU/s320/fjl.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5070858079087398258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Franz Joseph Land (80º05'37,49'' N 48º04'59.17" E) vista a dois mil quinhentos e vinte metros de altura. Fotografia de ecrã do Google Earth.&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-8252247684084527984?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/8252247684084527984/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=8252247684084527984' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8252247684084527984'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8252247684084527984'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/05/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-5-franz.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 5 - franz joseph land.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rl9Ojm5sjXI/AAAAAAAAAUI/v1ReTg5GITU/s72-c/fjl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-6629912196722454299</id><published>2007-05-28T16:19:00.001Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:13:19.317Z</updated><title type='text'>a imagem do círculo (4) - franz wilhelm schiertz.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RlsBM25sjOI/AAAAAAAAATA/Y1i76NkkI70/s1600-h/schiertz01d.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069647125943192802" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RlsBM25sjOI/AAAAAAAAATA/Y1i76NkkI70/s400/schiertz01d.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Franz Wilhelm Schiertz:&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Cenário de Norsk&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;ø&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;yene, Spitsbergen, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;1&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;879. 35 x 53 cm. Galeria Nacional, Oslo, Noruega.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Franz Wilhelm Schiertz nasceu em mil oitocentos e treze em Leipzig. Arquitecto e Pintor, foi discípulo de Johan Christian Clausen Dahl, um dos grandes paisagistas da escola de Dresden. Entre mil oitocentos e setenta e seis e mil oitocentos e setenta e oito, já numa fase avançada da sua vida, Schiertz largou a certeza dos seus dias em Bergen e alistou-se na expedição norueguesa aos mares do Norte como desenhador. Daí lhe chegou a memória e a inspiração para este Cenário de Norskøyene, de lá nos chegam estes cinco desenhos constantes das páginas quinhentos e trinta, quinhentos e trinta e um, quinhentos e trinta e dois, quinhentos e trinta e três e quinhentos e trinta e cinco do relatório da referida expedição, publicado em mil oitocentos e oitenta, precisamente sete anos antes de Franz Wilhelm Schiertz morrer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RltbFG5sjPI/AAAAAAAAATI/G26YRg3SFuc/s1600-h/FWSMagdbay.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RltbFG5sjPI/AAAAAAAAATI/G26YRg3SFuc/s400/FWSMagdbay.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069745948845706482" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rltbfm5sjSI/AAAAAAAAATg/MKYAwsbYtkI/s1600-h/FWS2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rltbfm5sjSI/AAAAAAAAATg/MKYAwsbYtkI/s400/FWS2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069746404112239906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RltbSG5sjRI/AAAAAAAAATY/OGsXK-aiIuo/s1600-h/FWS3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RltbSG5sjRI/AAAAAAAAATY/OGsXK-aiIuo/s400/FWS3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069746172184005906" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RltbN25sjQI/AAAAAAAAATQ/qOxB-5oPe2c/s1600-h/FWS1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RltbN25sjQI/AAAAAAAAATQ/qOxB-5oPe2c/s400/FWS1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5069746099169561858" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-6629912196722454299?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/6629912196722454299/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=6629912196722454299' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6629912196722454299'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6629912196722454299'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/05/imagem-do-crculo-4-franz-wilhelm.html' title='a imagem do círculo (4) - franz wilhelm schiertz.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RlsBM25sjOI/AAAAAAAAATA/Y1i76NkkI70/s72-c/schiertz01d.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-7030217536412611307</id><published>2007-05-23T18:32:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:11:59.022Z</updated><title type='text'>memória de arktos. (1)</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/t_thorstvedt_cover.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 200px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/t_thorstvedt_cover.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Silence appeared a long time before language. Silence is the beginning of all things: hence the first instant of the first mouth-opening of the first living is silent. I am, somehow, returning to a sort of beginning. So, I would be a thief if I would - or if I could - speak a single world when admiring Spitsbergen's &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.spitsbergentravel.no/Bildeserier/Exp_Cruise_2006/images/prevs/prev19.jpg"&gt;Körberbreen glacier&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://addgaleria.blogspot.com/2007/05/tryggve-thorstved-o-esboo-de-uma.html"&gt;Tryggve Thorstvedt&lt;/a&gt;, &lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://addgaleria.blogspot.com/2007/05/hukommelse-av-arktos-memory-of-arktos.html"&gt;Memory of Arktos&lt;/a&gt;, Ed. Eutron Books, Ltd, 2007.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-7030217536412611307?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/7030217536412611307/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=7030217536412611307' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7030217536412611307'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7030217536412611307'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/05/memria-de-arktos.html' title='memória de arktos. (1)'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-1980413940166122207</id><published>2007-05-19T18:12:00.001Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:11:40.424Z</updated><title type='text'>o último vôo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RlHc-25sjMI/AAAAAAAAASw/Z8zEJ2jjL6Y/s1600-h/felix.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5067074028216028354" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RlHc-25sjMI/AAAAAAAAASw/Z8zEJ2jjL6Y/s400/felix.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Felíx Rodriguez de la Fuente. Fotografia: © DR&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;No dia do seu quinquagésimo segundo aniversário, o naturalista &lt;a href="http://www.felixrodriguezdelafuente.com/"&gt;Félix Rodríguez de la Fuente&lt;/a&gt; rodava no Alaska um documentário sobre a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Iditarod_Trail"&gt;Iditarod&lt;/a&gt;, uma rota de mil e quinhentos quilómetros para trenós de cães. Antes de entrar no avião que o levaria para Nome, ponto final da rota, de la Fuente olhou a paisagem gelada e silenciosa durante alguns instantes. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Terá dito:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;qué lugar más hermoso para morir&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Também se diz que nesse instante um corvo negro atravessou os céus dessa triste manhã do dia catorze de Março de mil novecentos e oitenta.&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/3740785517890142101-1980413940166122207?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1980413940166122207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1980413940166122207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/05/o-ltimo-vo.html' title='o último vôo.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RlHc-25sjMI/AAAAAAAAASw/Z8zEJ2jjL6Y/s72-c/felix.jpg' height='72' width='72'/></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-7168972355918813233</id><published>2007-05-18T23:25:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:11:21.069Z</updated><title type='text'>breve história de uma história dos povos do norte.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rk44_m5sjFI/AAAAAAAAAR4/MT0ICMDAy-4/s1600-h/omagnus02d.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066049296263842898" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rk44_m5sjFI/AAAAAAAAAR4/MT0ICMDAy-4/s320/omagnus02d.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Os povos do Norte estão expostos a noites de grande duração. Em consequência, usam vários tipos de luz para cumprirem os deveres indispensáveis dos seus lares. * &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Esta é a breve história de um enorme livro chamado &lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.istitutodatini.it/biblio/images/it/forteg/5-2-15-2/htm/elenco.htm"&gt;Historia de Gentibus Septentrionalibus&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;, publicado em Roma no ano de mil quinhentos e cinquenta e cinco. São setecentos e setenta capítulos, ilustrados por quinhentas imagens, naquele que foi o maior retrato alguma vez feito aos usos e costumes dos povos do remoto Norte. Palavras e gravuras de tão extensa monografia têm a autoria de Olaus Magnus, o eclesiástico sueco, bispo de Upsalla, que foi também viajante, geógrafo, cartógrafo e diplomata.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066049450882665586" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rk45Im5sjHI/AAAAAAAAASI/ZzjdTKXC7JI/s320/omagnus06d.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;No remoto Norte vive uma temível criatura tão grande como um elefante, chamada foca ou morsa, talvez assim chamada por causa de sua forte mordida&lt;/em&gt; . *&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A história da &lt;em&gt;Historia de Gentibus Septentrionalibus&lt;/em&gt; nasce com um mapa. Aliás, grande parte das páginas deste livro são análises detalhadas de um mapa, de &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;o &lt;/span&gt;mapa: em mil quinhentos e trinta e nove, Magnus publica em Veneza a sua &lt;a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/e/ea/Carta_Marina.jpeg"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Carta Marina&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&gt;, uma detalhada descrição dos mares e dos reinos do Norte, cuja influência se estenderia até ao século XIX. Se a história da &lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Historia_de_gentibus_septentrionalibus"&gt;Historia de Gentibus Septentrionalibus&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt; nasce da &lt;em&gt;Carta Marina&lt;/em&gt;, a história desta carta – e, reflexamente, do longo livro – nasce de uma viagem de dois anos que o autor fez até longínquo e desconhecido Norte - a terra incognita - lugar de adoradores de demónios, berço da guerra e reino do frio. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5066049382163188834" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rk45Em5sjGI/AAAAAAAAASA/HtSkaC1m1KM/s320/omagnus03d.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Nem mesmo a parte mais remota do Norte, que muitos crêem inabitável por causa de seu intenso frio, está livre de ritos sacrílegos e de devoção a espíritos malignos . * &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em mil quinhentos e dezoito, Magnus parte para a província de Norrland. Visita Trondheim e Övertorneå, estuda os estranhos usos e costumes das gentes que encontra, descreve e desenha o novo mundo que tem diante de si: um lugar branco, com dias e noites diferentes dos dias e das noites do resto do mundo, um lugar de mares misteriosos, que engolem navios inteiros com a força das suas correntes, um lugar de monstros de dentes horríveis e assustadores, mas de gente corajosa e forte, capaz de erguer uma fortaleza invencível. Desta viagem, &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Olaus_Magnus"&gt;Olaus Magnus &lt;/a&gt;concebe a Carta Marina. Partindo de uma e de outra, escreve, durante dezasseis anos, a monumental &lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.istitutodatini.it/biblio/images/casanat/k5-14ccc/img/front.jpg"&gt;Historia de Gentibus Septentrionalibus&lt;/a&gt;. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p align="justify"&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;* &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Gravuras de Olaus Magnus, extraídas, tal como o texto, de Historia de Gentibus Septentrionalibus.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-7168972355918813233?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/7168972355918813233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=7168972355918813233' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7168972355918813233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7168972355918813233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/05/breve-histria-da-histria-dos-povos-do.html' title='breve história de uma história dos povos do norte.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rk44_m5sjFI/AAAAAAAAAR4/MT0ICMDAy-4/s72-c/omagnus02d.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-7486749928210786123</id><published>2007-05-12T23:16:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:10:24.349Z</updated><title type='text'>a imagem do círculo (3) - a luz do silêncio: as imagens de marc deneyer.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Marc Deneyer nasceu em Bruxelas, no ano de 1945. Hoje vive em França e ensina no Institut Supérieur de l'Image, em Poitiers. Escolheu Ilulissat, pequeno porto no oeste da Gronelândia, para estudar a pureza da luz e  a escala de brancos e cinzas que só a paisagem polar feita de gelo e icebergues conseguem oferecem. Em Junho de mil novecentos e noventa e quatro, Deneyer fotografa o gelo que se desprende, derrete e navega ao sabor das correntes mais quentes. O resultado aparece em dois mil e um, sob o nome de "&lt;a href="http://www.letempsquilfait.com/Pages/Catalogue/Notices/tirages%20de%20tete/deneyerluxe.html"&gt;Ilulissat: Textes &amp; Photographies&lt;/a&gt;", pela editora Le Temps Qu'il Fait. Aqui ficam doze amostras da luz forte e tranquila do silêncio, encontrada por Marc Deneyer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcEbw7JdI/AAAAAAAAAOE/PFP7VwTYJ9Q/s1600-h/iceberg1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063836062266893778" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcEbw7JdI/AAAAAAAAAOE/PFP7VwTYJ9Q/s400/iceberg1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Iceberg, Ilulissat, 1994, 1/12.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcHrw7JeI/AAAAAAAAAOM/eNLiBy2wy6k/s1600-h/iceberg2.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063836118101468642" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcHrw7JeI/AAAAAAAAAOM/eNLiBy2wy6k/s400/iceberg2.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Iceberg, Ilulissat, 1994, 2/12.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcL7w7JfI/AAAAAAAAAOU/ESdCWUvtILE/s1600-h/iceberg3.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063836191115912690" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcL7w7JfI/AAAAAAAAAOU/ESdCWUvtILE/s400/iceberg3.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Iceberg, Ilulissat, 1994, 3/12.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcPLw7JgI/AAAAAAAAAOc/opT4MqUj4ek/s1600-h/iceberg4.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063836246950487554" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcPLw7JgI/AAAAAAAAAOc/opT4MqUj4ek/s400/iceberg4.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Iceberg, Ilulissat, 1994, 4/12.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcSbw7JhI/AAAAAAAAAOk/9Nx4kBGAOP8/s1600-h/iceberg5.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063836302785062418" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcSbw7JhI/AAAAAAAAAOk/9Nx4kBGAOP8/s400/iceberg5.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Iceberg, Ilulissat, 1994, 5/12.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcVrw7JiI/AAAAAAAAAOs/4QULTWyBC58/s1600-h/iceberg6.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063836358619637282" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcVrw7JiI/AAAAAAAAAOs/4QULTWyBC58/s400/iceberg6.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Iceberg, Ilulissat, 1994, 6/12.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcc7w7JjI/AAAAAAAAAO0/a6kmzKvp1ZE/s1600-h/iceberg7.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063836483173688882" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcc7w7JjI/AAAAAAAAAO0/a6kmzKvp1ZE/s400/iceberg7.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Iceberg, Ilulissat, 1994, 7/12.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcgbw7JkI/AAAAAAAAAO8/BCBDMN-hC3U/s1600-h/iceberg8.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063836543303231042" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcgbw7JkI/AAAAAAAAAO8/BCBDMN-hC3U/s400/iceberg8.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Iceberg, Ilulissat, 1994, 8/12.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZckLw7JlI/AAAAAAAAAPE/N9Pn2oagzLs/s1600-h/iceberg9.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063836607727740498" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZckLw7JlI/AAAAAAAAAPE/N9Pn2oagzLs/s400/iceberg9.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Iceberg, Ilulissat, 1994, 9/12.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcn7w7JmI/AAAAAAAAAPM/peNeuEXlM7I/s1600-h/iceberg10.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063836672152249954" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcn7w7JmI/AAAAAAAAAPM/peNeuEXlM7I/s400/iceberg10.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Iceberg, Ilulissat, 1994, 10/12.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcu7w7JnI/AAAAAAAAAPU/zg8hcoBWk7s/s1600-h/iceberg11.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063836792411334258" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcu7w7JnI/AAAAAAAAAPU/zg8hcoBWk7s/s400/iceberg11.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Iceberg, Ilulissat, 1994, 11/12.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcz7w7JoI/AAAAAAAAAPc/m8iowPNS_EE/s1600-h/iceberg12.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063836878310680194" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcz7w7JoI/AAAAAAAAAPc/m8iowPNS_EE/s400/iceberg12.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Iceberg, Ilulissat, 1994, 12/12.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;© &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.galerie-photo.com/marc_deneyer.html"&gt;Marc Deneyer&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.galerie-photo.com/marc_deneyer.html"&gt;.&lt;/a&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/3740785517890142101-7486749928210786123?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/7486749928210786123/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=7486749928210786123' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7486749928210786123'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7486749928210786123'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/05/imagem-do-crculo-3-em-busca-da-luz-as.html' title='a imagem do círculo (3) - a luz do silêncio: as imagens de marc deneyer.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZcEbw7JdI/AAAAAAAAAOE/PFP7VwTYJ9Q/s72-c/iceberg1.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-6767122184996031444</id><published>2007-05-12T23:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:09:03.561Z</updated><title type='text'>ciclo de filmes do círculo: kрасная палатка (krasnaya palatka).</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZQg7w7JcI/AAAAAAAAAN8/v5KHv83HT64/s1600-h/Red_Tent_R1_04040_ff.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZQg7w7JcI/AAAAAAAAAN8/v5KHv83HT64/s400/Red_Tent_R1_04040_ff.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063823357753632194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0067315/maindetails"&gt;Krasnaya Palatka&lt;/a&gt; /A Tenda Vermelha: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mikheil Kalatozishvili, URSS/Itália, 1971, 128 minutos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-6767122184996031444?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/6767122184996031444/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=6767122184996031444' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6767122184996031444'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6767122184996031444'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/05/ciclo-de-filmes-do-crculo-k-krasnaya.html' title='ciclo de filmes do círculo: kрасная палатка (krasnaya palatka).'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkZQg7w7JcI/AAAAAAAAAN8/v5KHv83HT64/s72-c/Red_Tent_R1_04040_ff.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-5610430656530243920</id><published>2007-05-09T11:00:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:08:38.695Z</updated><title type='text'>miragens do círculo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkG4e7w7JWI/AAAAAAAAANM/TLupjvjhc18/s1600-h/19060-Fata-Morgana.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5062530297719629154" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkG4e7w7JWI/AAAAAAAAANM/TLupjvjhc18/s400/19060-Fata-Morgana.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Miragem &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fata_Morgana_%28mirage%29"&gt;Fada Morgana&lt;/a&gt;. Fotografia: © Ratzeputz&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;O viajante caminha sobre as águas. O oceano é um vasto tapete branco. Há silêncio, demasiado silêncio, dias e dias que passam sempre iguais. Caminha a olhar, sempre a olhar, sempre em busca de qualquer coisa, da mais pequenina mudança no branco-azul da paisagem. A vista cansa-se e deixa de ver, a vista vê tudo branco primeiro, tudo azul - será preto?- depois, tudo branco outra vez. Não há medidas, distâncias, perspectivas. Não há sombras. A paisagem é um enorme quadro branco sem fundo. Cada passo constrói o seguinte, até ao fim do caminho. É assim ao longo de todo o tempo: Fadas Morganas aparecem e mostram terras de sonhos. Cartografam-se brancas montanhas -fantásticos espaços!- e terras de nenhum lado. Arruinam-se reputações com a “distinta visão de terra que contorna a baía, formando uma serra de norte a sul”&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(1)&lt;/span&gt;, sonhada por John Ross e por ele chamada de Serra Barnard. Formam-se expedições para explorar as imaginárias terras de Crocker, uma miragem de Robert Peary a noroeste do cabo Hubbard. E no fim, há apenas gelo e silêncio no olhar do viajante.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(1) Traduzido de John Ross, Voyage of Discovery in H.M. Ships Isabella and Alexander, Londres, 1819.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;Inspiração: William Scoresby Jr - An Account of the Arctic Regions with a History and Description of the Northern Whale-Fishery, 1820.&lt;/span&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/3740785517890142101-5610430656530243920?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/5610430656530243920/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=5610430656530243920' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5610430656530243920'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5610430656530243920'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/05/miragens-do-crculo.html' title='miragens do círculo.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RkG4e7w7JWI/AAAAAAAAANM/TLupjvjhc18/s72-c/19060-Fata-Morgana.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-8457732891365171396</id><published>2007-05-07T23:21:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:08:06.288Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 4 - mar de beaufort.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rj-1X7w7JVI/AAAAAAAAANE/akyqGG8s7kI/s1600-h/corp1014.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rj-1X7w7JVI/AAAAAAAAANE/akyqGG8s7kI/s320/corp1014.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5061963928972240210" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Mar de Beaufort, Primavera de 1949. Fotografia do Almirante Harley D. Nygren.&lt;/span&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/3740785517890142101-8457732891365171396?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/8457732891365171396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=8457732891365171396' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8457732891365171396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8457732891365171396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/05/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-4-mar-de.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 4 - mar de beaufort.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rj-1X7w7JVI/AAAAAAAAANE/akyqGG8s7kI/s72-c/corp1014.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-4557972815271698605</id><published>2007-05-07T23:10:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:07:53.432Z</updated><title type='text'>qaanaq: o fim do último reino.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;"&gt;Os Inuítes têm o seguinte provérbio: As dádivas fazem os escravos como os chicotes fazem os cães.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;"&gt;Os Inuítes usaram este provérbio depos de terem visto os &lt;em&gt;Amerlaquaat&lt;/em&gt; descer do céu e invadir o reino de &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qaanaaq"&gt;Tule&lt;/a&gt;, sem sequer lhes declarar guerra, mergulhando-os em grandes movimentos de pânico, vendo-os construir de maneira inexplicável &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thule_Air_Base"&gt;duas gigantescas bases militares&lt;/a&gt; no meio dos seus iglus, no centro da aurora.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;"&gt;A beleza de um provérbio antigo não lhes serviu de nada.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: italic; text-align: justify;"&gt;Os Inuítes descobriram como três milénios se apagam em dez anos.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Depois descobriram como o dinheiro exerce um domínio mais ardiloso que uma arma: porque tem todo o tempo que for preciso para ameaçar do fundo da alma valendo-se da sua dívida&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;in&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;As Sombras Errantes - Último Reino&lt;/span&gt;, de Pascal Quignard, &lt;span&gt;Ed. Gótica, 2003, página 87.&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/3740785517890142101-4557972815271698605?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/4557972815271698605/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=4557972815271698605' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4557972815271698605'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/4557972815271698605'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/05/qaanaq-o-fim-do-ltimo-reino.html' title='qaanaq: o fim do último reino.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-6905012848851225086</id><published>2007-05-03T10:07:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:05:46.776Z</updated><title type='text'>cемён ивaнович дежнёв.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rjm4L7w7JSI/AAAAAAAAAMs/y1yDg24bcFY/s1600-h/dezhnev.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060278171488429346" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rjm4L7w7JSI/AAAAAAAAAMs/y1yDg24bcFY/s400/dezhnev.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Semyen Ivanovitch Dezhnev.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Entre os rios Kolyma e Anadyr &lt;a href="http://www.chukotka.org/areas/lavr/?lang=en"&gt;nada se conhece&lt;/a&gt;. Ninguém sabe se a terra russa acaba, ninguém sabe se se une com o Alasca, fazendo da Eurásia e da América uma só terra. Noventa homens, divididos por sete &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koch_%28boat%29"&gt;kochis&lt;/a&gt;, esperaram nove meses pelo descongelar das águas da foz do Kolyma. Agora, chegou o momento. Estamos a vinte de Junho de mil seiscentos e quarenta e oito, na expedição ao remoto Nordeste russo dos cossacos Fyódor Alexeyev e &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Semyon_Dezhnev"&gt;Semyen Dezhnev&lt;/a&gt;, à procura da fortuna do marfim de morsa e da glória dos grandes descobridores. Sem bússulas e sem mapas, navegam para Leste acompanhando o desenho da costa. Passam-se dois meses e meio até a frota dobrar um cabo e começar a rumar a Sul. Pouco tempo resta antes da chegada dos gelos. A expedição atraca numa de &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Diomede_Islands"&gt;duas pequenas ilhas&lt;/a&gt;, provavelmente para invernar, mas é atacada por inuítes. Os que sobrevivem, fogem para Sul. Numa tempestade, o koch de Alexeyev desaparece. Dezhnev atinge, por fim, um largo golfo e, dias mais tarde, a foz do rio Anadyr, por onde navega até encontrar um pequeno povoado. Ali permanece o cossaco e os seus dezoito homens até ao verão seguinte, regressando com fortuna feita até Yakutsk. É mandado seguir para Moscovo, para narrar as suas gloriosas descobertas à corte.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Na sua &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_Embassy_of_Peter_I"&gt;viagem&lt;/a&gt; à Europa Ocidental, nos últimos anos do século dezassete, Pedro, o Grande toma conhecimento das palavras do cartógrafo &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Guillaume_Delisle"&gt;Guillaume Delisle&lt;/a&gt;, a propósito dos limites nordeste da Rússia: “&lt;em&gt;on ne sait pas où se termine cette chaine de montagnes, et si elle ne va pas joindre quelque autre continent&lt;/em&gt;”. Todo o Ocidente quer saber se a Eurásia está ligada à América. O imperador conclui: é preciso explorar a costa norte e este do seu reino, as suas riquezas e os seus limites, que apenas se conhecem de lendas e relatos imprecisos. A dezasseis de Agosto de mil setecentos e vinte e oito, seis meses depois da sua morte, Vitus Bering tem finalmente uma resposta para lhe dar. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5060278429186467122" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rjm4a7w7JTI/AAAAAAAAAM0/YrCZGrpIhP4/s320/village.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Aldeia abandonada de Naukan, no &lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cape_Dezhnev"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Cabo Dezhnev&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;. © NOAA.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Estamos agora em mil setecentos e trinta e seis. O historiador alemão Gerhard Friedrich Müller descobre nos arquivos de Yakutsk os relatos das explorações de um tal de Semyen Dezhnev, falecido em mil seiscentos e setenta e três, às portas de Moscovo. Vinte anos depois, consegue, finalmente, publicar “&lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.polybiblio.com/shapero/71106.html"&gt;Voyages et découvertes faites par les Russes le long des côtes de la Mer Glaciale &amp; sur l'Océan Oriental, tant vers le Japon que vers l'Amérique. On y a joint l'Histoire du Fleuve Amur et des pays adjacents, depuis la conquête des Russes&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;”, difundindo os resultados da expedição do cossaco Dezhnev: as terras do remoto Leste russo têm fim; entre a Eurásia e a América existe um estreito. O Estreito de Bering.&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/3740785517890142101-6905012848851225086?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/6905012848851225086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=6905012848851225086' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6905012848851225086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6905012848851225086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/05/c.html' title='cемён ивaнович дежнёв.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Rjm4L7w7JSI/AAAAAAAAAMs/y1yDg24bcFY/s72-c/dezhnev.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-8741244855354232781</id><published>2007-04-25T23:58:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:05:07.947Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 3 - o primeiro sol visto no pólo.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Ri_PKrw7JMI/AAAAAAAAAL8/8BrZ4jkYdwA/s1600-h/first_sun_4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Ri_PKrw7JMI/AAAAAAAAAL8/8BrZ4jkYdwA/s400/first_sun_4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057488689013925058" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;O primeiro sol de dois mil e sete, aparecido a oito de Março. Fotografia: © &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.taraexpeditions.org/"&gt;Tara&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt; Arctic.&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/3740785517890142101-8741244855354232781?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/8741244855354232781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=8741244855354232781' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8741244855354232781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/8741244855354232781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/04/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-3-o-primeiro.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 3 - o primeiro sol visto no pólo.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Ri_PKrw7JMI/AAAAAAAAAL8/8BrZ4jkYdwA/s72-c/first_sun_4.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-3390512443673602105</id><published>2007-04-25T23:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:00:51.197Z</updated><title type='text'>fantásticos espaços do círculo: frislândia</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/frisland2.jpg" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Frislândia no mapa de Mercator de 1595.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Também denominada Frischlant, Friesland ou Freezeland, fica situada a sudeste da Islândia e foi descrita pelos irmãos Nicolò e Antonio Zeno. Cristóvão Colombo, ao visitar a Islândia, em 1477, ouviu dizer que os nativos chamavam Frislândia à ilha de Tule.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-3390512443673602105?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/3390512443673602105/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=3390512443673602105' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3390512443673602105'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3390512443673602105'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/04/fantsticos-espaos-do-crculo-frislndia.html' title='fantásticos espaços do círculo: frislândia'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-1768287530613708027</id><published>2007-04-23T11:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-21T00:00:31.658Z</updated><title type='text'>ns arktika.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RiyetuhBmAI/AAAAAAAAAKs/Gc6yUjVhXu8/s1600-h/arktik.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5056590990048073730" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RiyetuhBmAI/AAAAAAAAAKs/Gc6yUjVhXu8/s320/arktik.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;NS Arktika.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A dezassete de agosto de mil novecentos e setenta e sete, o quebra-gelo atómico soviético Arktika, movido por setenta e cinco mil cavalos, tornou-se no primeiro navio a atingir o Pólo Norte Geográfico.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-1768287530613708027?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/1768287530613708027/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=1768287530613708027' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1768287530613708027'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/1768287530613708027'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/04/ns-arktika.html' title='ns arktika.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RiyetuhBmAI/AAAAAAAAAKs/Gc6yUjVhXu8/s72-c/arktik.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-3820117702381825697</id><published>2007-04-18T00:41:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-20T23:58:34.725Z</updated><title type='text'>we won't see you again, henry hudson.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/Last_Voyage_Of_Henry_Hudson.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;John Collier,&lt;/span&gt; The Last Voyage Of William Hudson,&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; 1860.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Em mil seiscentos e dez, &lt;a href="http://www.biographi.ca/EN/ShowBio.asp?BioId=34410"&gt;Henry Hudson&lt;/a&gt;, a bordo do Discovery, regressa pela quarta vez às paisagens do silêncio. Regressa à procura do mesmo: da passagem para o outro lado do mundo. Três exaustivas viagens pelo distante norte, três tentativas falhadas, ficam para trás. Uma, em mil seiscentos e sete, leva-o à procura da passagem para o Japão e China pelo Pólo Norte. Hudson é travado pelo gelo a apenas quinhentas milhas náuticas do Pólo. No regresso, acha a ilha de Jan Mayen e assinala a riqueza de cetáceos ao largo de Spitsbergen. Um ano depois, tenta encontrar a passagem Este, esbarrando no gelo desta feita ao largo de Nova Zemlya. Em mil seiscentos e nove, volta a tentar a rota para nascente. O frio e o gelo são constantes. Hudson, ousado, muda totalmente de rumo e num ápice veleja para Oeste, para as águas menos gélidas da costa americana, onde explora o rio que haveria de ficar com o seu nome.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;É pois um Henry Hudson aventureiro, experiente e optimista que parte de Londres, a dezassete de Abril de mil seiscentos e dez, rumo a noroeste. É esta a sua quarta viagem. E a última. Estamos em inícios de Junho, na costa Áctica do Canadá. Hudson entra na baía que haveria de ser sua e ruma a leste. Fazem-se mapas, exploram-se todos os palmos de terra que encontram até chegar o inverno, até chegar a longa paragem feita de dias escuros. Os meses passam, o ano despede-se e o tempo demora. Não abundam provisões no Discovery e os seus homens desesperam, passam fome. O escorbuto arrasa-os. A noite envenena-os com febre. A chegada do dia primaveril acorda um navio doente e dividido: derretido o gelo, o navio está pronto a velejar. A vinte e três de Junho de mil seiscentos e onze, os marinheiros Henry Greene, Robert Juet, Abacuk Prickett e Robert Bylot, dirigem-se ao comandante Hudson e informam-no que o Discovery não deve rumar ainda mais para norte. A viagem tem de ser de regresso a Inglaterra. E imediatamente. Hudson diz que não: para o comandante, há alimentos nas terras próximas e a passagem deve estar perto demais para regressar a casa. Os marinheiros amotinam-se. Acorrentam Hudson e o seu filho John. Atiram-nos para um pequeno batel. Phillip Staffer e Aldous Wydowse juntam-se voluntariamente ao comandante. &lt;em&gt;Antes a morte que a traição&lt;/em&gt;, terá dito o primeiro. E a estes quatro, todos os moribundos do navio. Greene atira-lhes um pouco de comida, uma pistola e a despedida: &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;“Não te voltaremos a ver, Henry Hudson”.&lt;br /&gt;Na viagem de regresso a Inglaterra, o Discovery aporta para reabastecimento no Cabo Digges. Os marinheiros amotinados saem para terra decididos a extorquirem comida aos esquimós. Estes resistem. Lutam. Os marinheiros são feridos e mortos. Salva-se apenas &lt;a href="http://www.biographi.ca/EN/ShowBio.asp?BioId=34221"&gt;Robert Bylot&lt;/a&gt;, que consegue trazer o Discovery ate Londres. Apanhado na voragem da descoberta da Passagem, nunca foi julgado e chegou a regressar ao Árctico, nas expediçoes de Thomas Button e William Baffin.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Henry Hudson deu nome a rio, a estreito e a consequente baía. Desapareceu na névoa polar: num pequeno barquinho à deriva, fez-se gelo na companhia do seu filho e dos seus fieis companheiros.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-3820117702381825697?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/3820117702381825697/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=3820117702381825697' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3820117702381825697'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3820117702381825697'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/04/we-wont-see-you-again-henry-hudson.html' title='we won&apos;t see you again, henry hudson.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-3398034819459416095</id><published>2007-04-17T23:59:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-20T23:57:58.455Z</updated><title type='text'>ciclo de filmes do círculo: ingenjör andrées luftfärd</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/igenjow.jpg" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Ingenjör Andrées Luftfärd /&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0084136/"&gt;The Flight Of The Eagle&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jan Troel, Suécia, RFA e Noruega, 1982, 145 minutos.&lt;/span&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/3740785517890142101-3398034819459416095?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/3398034819459416095/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=3398034819459416095' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3398034819459416095'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/3398034819459416095'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/04/ciclo-de-filmes-do-crculo-flight-of.html' title='ciclo de filmes do círculo: ingenjör andrées luftfärd'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-7696265526245264783</id><published>2007-04-10T16:47:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-20T23:57:43.197Z</updated><title type='text'>fantásticos espaços do círculo: estotilândia.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/estotiland.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Estotilândia, no mapa de Nicolò Zeno de 1588.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ilha mais pequena que a Islândia situada no Atlântico norte, tem quatro rios e uma montanha no centro. Encontra-se a norte da ilha de Drógio, onde os homens se devoram uns aos outros em templos esplendorosos. As gentes de Estotilândia dominam todas as artes do mundo excepto a arte de usar a agulha de marear.&lt;br /&gt;(F. Marcolini, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Dello scoprimento dell'isole Frislania, Eslanda, Engrovelanda, Estotilanda e Icaria, fatto sotto il Polo Artico dai due fratelli Zeno, M. Nicolo e M. Antonio&lt;/span&gt;, Venezia, 1558)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-7696265526245264783?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/7696265526245264783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=7696265526245264783' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7696265526245264783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/7696265526245264783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/02/espaos-do-crculo-estotilanda.html' title='fantásticos espaços do círculo: estotilândia.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-5962528075689644428</id><published>2007-03-30T18:35:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-20T23:57:26.468Z</updated><title type='text'>os cinco pólos norte.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RgHXCJXWhrI/AAAAAAAAAIA/hRN908Z_FXs/s1600-h/Five-Poles,-Tomamae,-Hokkai.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044549489505240754" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RgHXCJXWhrI/AAAAAAAAAIA/hRN908Z_FXs/s320/Five-Poles,-Tomamae,-Hokkai.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Five Poles,&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;fotografia de Tomamae Hokkaido, Japão, 2004&lt;em&gt;.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Não há apenas um. São cinco. Cinco Pólos Norte. Cinco lugares diferentes, cinco sítios que não existem. Cinco pólos irrequietos.&lt;br /&gt;O primeiro é o &lt;em&gt;Pólo Norte Geográfico&lt;/em&gt;, o ponto imaginário situado a noventa graus, zero minutos Norte. É o ponto de partida e de chegada de todos os meridianos, o extremo norte do Planeta Terra. Este Pólo Norte Geográfico não é nenhum lugar físico: o pedaço de terra que lhe corresponde está a três mil e novecentos metros de profundidade. E o gelo de superfície está constantemente a mover-se, ao sabor da força das correntes. Assim, para se estar parado no Pólo Norte é necessário estar sempre em movimento.&lt;br /&gt;Depois, há um &lt;em&gt;Pólo Norte Magnético&lt;/em&gt;, o lugar onde se chega se se seguir o ponteiro de qualquer bússola, por força do magnetismo emanado do centro da Terra. A sua localização, sempre algures no Canadá árctico, não é fixa. Actualmente, fica a oitenta e dois graus e sete minutos Norte, cento e catorze graus e quatro minutos oeste.&lt;a title="http://tools.wikimedia.de/~magnus/geo/geohack.php?params=" href="http://tools.wikimedia.de/%7Emagnus/geo/geohack.php?params=82.7_N_114.4_W_"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Segue-se um &lt;em&gt;Pólo Norte Geomagnético&lt;/em&gt;, que é o extremo norte do eixo da magnetoesfera, o campo magnético que envolve o planeta. Presentemente, fica situado a cerca de oitocentos quilómetros a leste do Pólo Norte Magnético, no lugar onde se ergue a aldeia de Qaanaq, na Gronelândia.&lt;br /&gt;Há também um &lt;em&gt;Pólo Norte de Inacessibilidade&lt;/em&gt;, o ponto do oceano Árctico mais distante de terra firme em todas as direcções. Fica a oitenta e quatro graus e três minutos Norte, cento e setenta e quatro graus e cinquenta e um minutos Oeste, a seiscentos e sessenta e um quilómetros do Pólo Norte e a mil e noventa e quatro quilómetros da costa mais próxima.&lt;br /&gt;Por fim, existe um &lt;em&gt;Pólo Norte Celestial&lt;/em&gt;, o ponto celestial alinhado com o extremo Norte do eixo da Terra. Fica no céu, no centro da esfera celeste, perto, muito perto da estrela Polaris.&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/3740785517890142101-5962528075689644428?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/5962528075689644428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=5962528075689644428' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5962528075689644428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5962528075689644428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/os-cinco-plos-norte.html' title='os cinco pólos norte.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RgHXCJXWhrI/AAAAAAAAAIA/hRN908Z_FXs/s72-c/Five-Poles,-Tomamae,-Hokkai.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-5587684720385016473</id><published>2007-03-27T09:45:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-20T23:56:34.737Z</updated><title type='text'>a imagem do círculo (2) - a fotografia de william bradford.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;A última viagem de &lt;a href="http://www.biographi.ca/EN/ShowBio.asp?BioId=40109"&gt;William Bradford&lt;/a&gt; ao Círculo do Urso ocorre em 1869. Para trás, e ao longo de oito anos, ficam precisamente oito viagens pela baía de Baffin e pelo estreito de Davis, périplos inspiradores das centenas de pinturas polares que Bradford criou. Porém, esta derradeira expedição criativa do artista é diferente de todas as outras. Acompanhado de George Critcherson e John L. Dunmore, dois assistentes-fotógrafos de Boston, EUA, William Bradford viaja pela costa oeste da Gronelândia para levar a cabo uma pioneira e ambiciosa expedição fotográfica. O resultado aparece quatro anos mais tarde, sob a forma de livro: &lt;a href="http://www.bl.uk/catalogues/photographyinbooks/record.asp?RecordID=332"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Arctic Regions, illustrated with photographs taken on an art expedition to Greenland, with descriptive narrative by the artist&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; (Londres, 1873) colige cento e quarenta e uma das mais de trezentas fotografias tiradas pela equipa em negativos de vidro e impressas, originalmente, em albúmen. Aqui se recordam quinze dessas imagens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plate1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;plate 1 - Icebergs passing near Newfoundland coast.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plate2.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plate 2 - Instantaneous View of Icebergs which, from their similarity and beauty, we named the Twins.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plate3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plate 3 - Cape Desolation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plate32.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.oceansbridge.com/artist-lists/william-bradford/View-of-Sermitsialik-Glacier-1873.php"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plate 32 - The Glacier as seen forcing itself down over the land and into the waters of the Fiord. The Glacier seen at the left on the land is much finer rendered in the large upright view, no. 40.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plate35.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plate 35 - The Steamer taking soundings in front of the Glacier. Captain Bartlett finding the Water 500 feet deep, making a solid Wall of Ice, to be seen if the Water was away, of between 775 and 800 feet high.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plate37.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plate 37 - An extended view of a Section of the front of the Glacier, showing the wall, or frost, which was discharged or broken off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plate49.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plate 49 - Kunak Mountain in Davis Straits, with the Glacier on its summit. The finest view, showing its form and precipitous sides of 5,000 feet. There have been several attempts to reach the summit, but none of them have ever been successful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plate55.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;plate 55 - The View shows the beautiful forms in varied shapes which the Berg assumed. On this berg we found a lake of fresh water, covering an acre in extent.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plate59.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plate 59 - Instantaneous view of Icebergs off the coast, at mid-day.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plate61.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plate 61 - Sandstone rock at the entrance of Karsut Fiord, rising out of the middle, and over 2,000 feet high. The Steamer on the left made fast to an Iceberg, on the top is a Lake of Water, from which we filled our tanks. This is over a mile and a half from the base of the rock, and shows its height with comparison with the Ship.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plate70.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;plate 70 - View of the house nearest the North Pole under the Midnight Sun, the home of Jansen, the interpreter and Dog-Driver of Dr. Hayes on the expedition of 1860-61.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plate80.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plate 80 - The Midnight Sun in Melville Bay in August.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plate82.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plate 82 - Near view of the polar bears.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plate83.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plate 93 - Here we were surrounded by the wildest Scene possible to conceive. The largest Icebergs and heavy Hummock Ice seemed as if they enticed us amongst them to destroy us. While fast to one of the Icebergs a large Mass fell off, only Two Hundred Feet from our Stern, causing such a commotion in the Water that our Vessel rubbed her sides against the Iceberg in a very dangerous manner. We cast off and steamed to what we though a more safe Berg, and experienced while there a heavy Snowstorm.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/plate101.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;plate 101 - Section of an Immense Berg, which was nearly half a mile in length, and was grounded in over five hundred feet of water. This Berg shows the texture very finely&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;William Bradford, John. L. Dunmore &amp; George Critcherson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span&gt;The Arctic Regions, illustrated with photographs taken on an art expedition to Greenland, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;with descriptive narrative by the artist&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;©&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; Clark Art Institute Library, Massachusets, EUA.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&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/3740785517890142101-5587684720385016473?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/5587684720385016473/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=5587684720385016473' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5587684720385016473'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5587684720385016473'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/imagem-do-crculo-2-fotografia-de.html' title='a imagem do círculo (2) - a fotografia de william bradford.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-6252076470090798835</id><published>2007-03-26T11:35:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-20T23:55:49.884Z</updated><title type='text'>a canção de são brandão.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RgF905XWhqI/AAAAAAAAAH4/-hoEmJ5iCUc/s1600-h/stbrend.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044451405337101986" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RgF905XWhqI/AAAAAAAAAH4/-hoEmJ5iCUc/s320/stbrend.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt; Saint Brendan&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Viajarás até ao fim do mar numa jangada. Terás a companhia de sessenta peregrinos. Buscarás o teu silêncio, o teu deus, a tua ilha abençoada. Levarás colchões de urze para dormires, vinho e conservas para te alimentares. É que sete anos estarás a navegar, São Brandão. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Pássaros falantes avisar-te-ão do frio que vais sentir. Contar-te-ão coisas sobre criaturas fantásticas que irás encontrar. Pisarás o solo de ilhas que derivam como tu. E verás o fundo do mar onde andas, São Brandão.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Chamarás palácios de cristal aos pedaços de gelo que flutuam nas águas. Atravessarás o interior do maior deles, daquele que te levou três dias a alcançar. Verás na sua transparência o olhar do teu deus, São Brandão.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Descansa, descansa agora que o tempo parou. Antes de adormeceres escutarás a voz de um anjo. Prometer-te-á que sim, São Brandão, alcançarás a tua ilha abençoada.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Brendan"&gt;Saint Brendan&lt;/a&gt; (&lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/S%C3%A3o_Brand%C3%A3o"&gt;São Brandão&lt;/a&gt;) terá nascido em quatrocentos e oitenta e quatro no sudoeste da Irlanda. A sua viagem data de cerca de quinhentos e trinta e foi narrada, no século dez, no livro &lt;a href="http://www.fh-augsburg.de/%7Eharsch/Chronologia/Lspost10/Brendanus/bre_navi.html"&gt;&lt;em&gt;Navigatio Sancti Brendani Abbatis&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/a&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/3740785517890142101-6252076470090798835?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/6252076470090798835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=6252076470090798835' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6252076470090798835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6252076470090798835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/cano-de-so-brando.html' title='a canção de são brandão.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RgF905XWhqI/AAAAAAAAAH4/-hoEmJ5iCUc/s72-c/stbrend.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-2225158859832553782</id><published>2007-03-23T17:13:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-20T23:55:28.141Z</updated><title type='text'>fantásticos espaços do círculo: tule.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/tule.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Tule na &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carta_Marina"&gt;Carta Marina&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;de Olaus Magnus, de 1537&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ilha do Atlântico Norte, situada a seis dias de navegação das ilhas Orkney. Tule é dez vezes maior que a Inglaterra, o seu solo é praticamente estéril e o ar é uma mistura de água do mar e oxigénio. Um fenómeno estranho acontece em Tule todos os anos. Na época do solstício de Verão, o sol nunca se põe, ficando no céu até à chegada do solstício de Inverno. Então, durante quarenta dias e quarenta noites permanece oculto. Os habitantes da ilha passam a larga noite a dormir, uma vez que nada mais se pode fazer nessa escuridão.&lt;br /&gt;Entre as diversas tribos de Tule, é de mencionar a que chamam de &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;escritifinos&lt;/span&gt;. A vida dos escritifinos parece-se com a dos animais. Como animais selvagens, perseguem e caçam as enormes criaturas que habitam nos seus bosques. Às vezes, no inverno, os escritifinos cobrem-se com as peles destas criaturas selvagens e extraem-lhes a medula dos ossos para alimentar os seus filhos, a quem jamais dão leite. Quando nasce um filho, pai e mãe põem-no numa bolsa de couro e atam-no a uma árvore, deixando-o com uma fatia de medula na boca enquanto vão à caça.&lt;br /&gt;Existe outra tribo cujos membros veneram muitíssimos deuses e demónios. Afirmam que existe um deus ou um demónio em cada pedra, rio ou árvore e oferecem a estes seres sacrifícios humanos que consistem em degolar a vítima no altar, empalá-la numa árvore e lançá-la de um precipício.&lt;br /&gt;Uma terceira tribo, mais simpática, é famosa pelo excelente hidromel que preparam com o abundante mel que produzem as suas abelhas.&lt;br /&gt;(Diodoro Sículo, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Biblioteca Histórica, séc. I AC&lt;/span&gt;; Estrabão&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, Geografia, séc. I AC; Procópio, Guerra dos Godos, Séc IV)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;in&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Breve Guía de Lugares Imaginarios, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:0;"&gt;de &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alberto Manguel e Gianni Guadalupi, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ed. Gran Bolsillo, Alianza Editorial, 1980, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;página 617.&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/3740785517890142101-2225158859832553782?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/2225158859832553782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=2225158859832553782' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2225158859832553782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2225158859832553782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/fantsticos-espaos-do-crculo-tule.html' title='fantásticos espaços do círculo: tule.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-6178243997062220703</id><published>2007-03-22T02:02:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-20T23:54:52.256Z</updated><title type='text'>postais do círculo do urso - 2 - estreito de bering.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RgHkipXWhsI/AAAAAAAAAII/yTUQG6PbJ1k/s1600-h/corp2303.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044564341502150338" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RgHkipXWhsI/AAAAAAAAAII/yTUQG6PbJ1k/s320/corp2303.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;O Navio Discoverer no estreito de Bering. Fotografia do Comandante Richard Behn, tirada em 1979.&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/3740785517890142101-6178243997062220703?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/6178243997062220703/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=6178243997062220703' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6178243997062220703'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6178243997062220703'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/postais-do-crculo-do-urso-2-estreito-de.html' title='postais do círculo do urso - 2 - estreito de bering.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RgHkipXWhsI/AAAAAAAAAII/yTUQG6PbJ1k/s72-c/corp2303.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-5376205748409140467</id><published>2007-03-21T01:56:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-20T23:54:25.339Z</updated><title type='text'>a esperança de john davis.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RgCZRZXWhkI/AAAAAAAAAHI/sxZK7bBN7xM/s1600-h/jdavys.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044200106800612930" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; cursor: pointer; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RgCZRZXWhkI/AAAAAAAAAHI/sxZK7bBN7xM/s320/jdavys.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;John Davis&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;Desde finais do século quinze que o este e o oeste da Terra estavam divididos entre portugueses e espanhóis. Todas as nações europeias que quisessem chegar ao oriente por mar teriam apenas uma direcção segura a seguir: o Norte. É deste facto que parte grande parte da descoberta polar quinhentista.&lt;br /&gt;Em mil quinhentos e oitenta e sete, o inglês &lt;a href="http://www.biographi.ca/EN/ShowBio.asp?BioId=34283"&gt;John Davis&lt;/a&gt; regressa pela terceira vez ao Círculo do Urso, ao serviço do mercador Willam Sanderson. O objectivo é o de sempre: encontrar a Passagem Noroeste. Davis é um mestre dos mares: marinheiro exímio e diplomata sensível e tolerante, é também um cientista importante, inventor do &lt;a href="http://www.hw.ac.uk/msf/2000/graphics/5.gif"&gt;quadrante&lt;/a&gt; que adoptou o seu nome. Mas depois de duas viagens sem resultados, Davis está condicionado por uma exigência de Sanderson: a expedição só acontecerá se apenas um dos três barcos da frota, o frágil Ellen, se aventurar em explorações: os outros, o Sunneshine e o Elizabeth ficarão à espera que o primeiro regresse e, enquanto esperam, ocupar-se-ão em pescar bacalhau. Davis aceita e lá parte, outra vez. Ao avistar o &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Cape_farewell_greenland_landsat.jpg"&gt;Cabo Farewell&lt;/a&gt;, que ele próprio assim nomeara um ano antes, Davis vira para Norte e inicia as suas explorações. A calmia do mar e a bondade do tempo encorajam o explorador a avançar até onde nunca antes ninguém houvera avançado. Sobe até aos setenta e dois graus e quarenta e três minutos Norte, onde ancora em protectora baía. Ao olhar para Setentrião, vê mar até perder de vista, livre de gelo. &lt;em&gt;Este é o caminho, o caminho certo a seguir&lt;/em&gt;, sente. Terá dito &lt;em&gt;chamarei a este lugar Sanderson’s Hope&lt;/em&gt;,&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;a esperança de William Sanderson, a esperança de uma passagem Nordeste aqui tão perto. Mas o tempo arrefece demasiado rápido com o aproximar dos últimos dias de Agosto. E o Ellen é um barco pouco resistente. Davis tem que voltar, portanto. Depois de vários dias à espera de vento Norte, o Ellen iniciou a descida ao encontro do Sunneshine e do Elizabeth. Procurou-os por toda a costa de Labrador. Em vão. À sua espera, apenas o silêncio do mar. Estragado pelo gelo e pelos ventos fortes, o Ellen demoraria um mês a regressar a casa.&lt;br /&gt;John Davis não se ficaria pelas suas três prodigiosas viagens exploratórias, não desistiria da esperança de Sanderson. Anos mais tarde, tenta o inverso, a passagem Sul e descobre as ilhas Falklands. Regressado a casa, em mil quinhentos e noventa e quatro, escreve &lt;a href="http://www.mcallen.lib.tx.us/books/seasecr/dseasec1.htm"&gt;The Seaman’s Secrets&lt;/a&gt; e &lt;a href="http://etext.library.adelaide.edu.au/d/davis_j/worlds/"&gt;The Worlde’s Hydrographical Descriptions&lt;/a&gt;, duas obras incontornáveis durante séculos. Nesta última, e a propósito das luzes do Círculo do Urso, afirmou que “&lt;em&gt;v&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;nder the Pole is the place of greatest dignitie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;”. Em todo o mundo inteiro.&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/3740785517890142101-5376205748409140467?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/5376205748409140467/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=5376205748409140467' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5376205748409140467'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5376205748409140467'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/esperana-de-john-davis.html' title='a esperança de john davis.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RgCZRZXWhkI/AAAAAAAAAHI/sxZK7bBN7xM/s72-c/jdavys.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-6324082556336266941</id><published>2007-03-15T23:01:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-22T14:19:11.125Z</updated><title type='text'>o sol-rectângulo de gerrit de veer.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RfnvS0cSMpI/AAAAAAAAAHA/7eRCOCExCwA/s1600-h/nzeffect.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5042324364411941522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RfnvS0cSMpI/AAAAAAAAAHA/7eRCOCExCwA/s320/nzeffect.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;Miragem Polar: o Sol- Rectângulo.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Era a terceira vez que &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Willem_Barents"&gt;Barents&lt;/a&gt; tentava encontrar a passagem marítima para Nordeste, rumo ao extremo oriente. Corria o ano de mil quinhentos e noventa e seis e o Inverno escuro aprisionou o marinheiro e a sua tripulação na ilha de &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nova_Zembla"&gt;Nova Zembla&lt;/a&gt;. Ali foram forçados a invernar durante a fria longa noite do círculo do urso.&lt;br /&gt;A vinte e quatro de Janeiro de mil quinhentos e noventa e sete, &lt;a href="http://nl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gerrit_de_Veer"&gt;Gerrit de Veer&lt;/a&gt;, tripulante, sai em expedição chefiada por Jacob van Heemskerk até à costa sul da ilha. Faltam duas semanas para o sol nascer pela primeira vez naquele ano. Porém, a claridade já é considerável e permite o passeio. Ao chegar à praia, de Veer olha o horizonte, e avista um sol rectangular, um luminoso paralelo no fim do mar branco. No seu diário, escreve “&lt;em&gt;O 24 de Janeiro estava de tempo limpo, com um vento oeste. Então eu e Jacob Hermskercke, e outro connosco, fomos à costa do lado sul de Noua Zembla, onde, contrariamente ao que esperávamos, eu consegui ver uma linha de sol; de imediato regressámos depressa a casa, para levar tão alegres notícias a William Barents e ao resto da nossa companhia. Mas William Barents, sendo um sábio e experimentado piloto, não acreditou nisso, estimando faltarem catorze dias para que o sol brilhe nessa parte do mundo, mas nós afirmámos o contrário e dissemos que vimos o sol.&lt;/em&gt;” *&lt;br /&gt;E o mesmo aconteceu durante mais três dias. A vinte e cinco, vinte e seis e vinte e sete de Janeiro de mil quinhentos e noventa e sete, Gerrit de Veer volta a ver um sol rectangular a aparecer-lhe, durante escassos instantes, no horizonte. O fenómeno fascina-o. Descreve-o mais uma vez no seu diário de viagem, estranhando-lhe a forma e a posição. Tenta explicá-lo pela conjugação da Lua e Júpiter, faz cálculos astronómicos para tentar compreender o que via. E o que via era um sol rectângulo que, mesmo estando cinco graus abaixo do horizonte já se conseguia ver.&lt;br /&gt;Estava assim observada e descrita pela primeira vez a miragem polar que ganhou o nome de &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Novaya_Zemlya_effect"&gt;Efeito de Nova Zembla&lt;/a&gt;: a anomalia óptica provocada pela refracção dos raios luminosos em camadas atmosféricas de temperaturas diferentes, que mostra um &lt;a href="http://www.eh2r.com/mp/data3.html"&gt;sol rectangular&lt;/a&gt; que não existe, uma miragem que acontece numa altura em que o sol esférico &lt;em&gt;ainda não nasceu&lt;/em&gt; no horizonte. Passariam quinhentos e um anos até à comprovação definitiva deste efeito.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Tradução livre de "T&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;he 24 of January it was faire cleare weather, with a west wind. Then I and Jacob Hermskercke, and another with vs, went to the sea-side on the south side of Noua Zembla, where, contrary to our expectation, I saw the edge of the sun; herewith we speedly home againe, to tell William Barents and the rest of our companion that joyfull newes. But William Barents, being a wise and well experienced pilot, would not believe it, esteeming it to be about fourteene daies too soone for the sunne to shin in that part of the world, but we earnestly affrirmed the contrary and said we had seene the sunne.&lt;/span&gt;", in The Three Voyages Of William Barents to the Arctic Regions (1594, 1595, 1596), de Gerrit de Veer, Ed. Elibron Classics, 2005 (fac simile da edição de 1876 da Hakluyt Society).&lt;/span&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/3740785517890142101-6324082556336266941?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/6324082556336266941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=6324082556336266941' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6324082556336266941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6324082556336266941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/o-sol-rectngulo-de-gerrit-de-veer.html' title='o sol-rectângulo de gerrit de veer.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/RfnvS0cSMpI/AAAAAAAAAHA/7eRCOCExCwA/s72-c/nzeffect.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-5083697392691505546</id><published>2007-03-13T00:55:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-20T23:51:11.361Z</updated><title type='text'>fantásticos espaços do círculo: ilhas do demónio.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/demoins.jpg" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Uma das Ilhas do Demónio&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; no mapa de Gastaldi de 1565.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Situadas na região da Terra Nova e Labrador, foram desenhadas com rigor por Mercator e Ortelius no século XVI, tendo desaparecido, misteriosamente, da cartografia mundial em meados do século seguinte. Habitadas por monstros, animais selvagens e demónios que atacavam os navios que ali atracavam ou os tripulantes que se aventuravam a ir a terra. Reza a lenda que os ruídos das bestas eram audíveis a largas milhas das suas costas. As Ilhas do Demónio aparecem referidas no Heptamerón de Margarida de Navarra, escrito entre 1540 e 1549, no seu &lt;a href="http://digital.library.upenn.edu/women/navarre/heptameron/heptameron-7.html#N67"&gt;sexagésimo sétimo capítulo&lt;/a&gt;.&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/3740785517890142101-5083697392691505546?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/5083697392691505546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=5083697392691505546' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5083697392691505546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/5083697392691505546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/fantsticos-espaos-do-crculo-ilhas-do.html' title='fantásticos espaços do círculo: ilhas do demónio.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-234396034298606009</id><published>2007-03-11T10:35:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-20T23:50:50.458Z</updated><title type='text'>ciclo de filmes do círculo: los amantes del círculo polar.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/amantespanor.jpg" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0133363/"&gt;Los Amantes Del Círculo Polar&lt;/a&gt;: &lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.juliomedem.org/"&gt;Julio Medem&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, Espanha, 1998, 158 minutos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Ana: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Voy a quedarme aquí todo el tiempo que haga falta. Estoy esperando la casualidad de mi vida, la más grande, y eso que las he tenido de muchas clases. Sí, podría contar mi vida uniendo casualidades.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Otto: &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Es bueno que las vidas tengan varios círculos, pero la mía, mi vida, sólo ha dado la vuelta una vez y no del todo. Falta lo más importante...&lt;/span&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/3740785517890142101-234396034298606009?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/234396034298606009/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=234396034298606009' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/234396034298606009'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/234396034298606009'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/ciclo-de-filmes-do-crculo-los-amantes.html' title='ciclo de filmes do círculo: los amantes del círculo polar.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-731197678137238151</id><published>2007-03-07T16:03:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-20T23:54:02.191Z</updated><title type='text'>svalbard: a história repete-se.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039215678694194178" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Re7j9fslfAI/AAAAAAAAAFw/6N2vGdgn0gs/s320/pyramiden1.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Re7j9fslfAI/AAAAAAAAAFw/6N2vGdgn0gs/s1600-h/pyramiden1.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: italic;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Pyramiden em 2007.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Nada mais que vento e abandono. As horas do relógio são curtas para a largura dos dias, as noites às vezes não acabam e mais uma vez não há pessoas para que o tempo passe por elas. O calendário é inútil. A viagem até Pyramiden serve então para sentir o passado como o sangue que nos fugiu das veias. É uma viagem até ao último olhar da última pessoa que abandona a cidade, que se despede dela, que lhe fecha as portas, que a torna em mais um não-lugar do mundo. E ali se está, ao sabor do vento e do abandono, nessa cidade fantasma que até mil novecentos e noventa e oito albergou os mineiros russos da companhia Arktikugol, trinta e sete anos depois do mesmo último olhar ter dito o mesmo adeus à cidade mineira de Grumantbyen. Pyramiden: metáfora do vai-vem dos homens e das procuras, metáfora da história no arquipélago de Svalbard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Willem Barents avistou as ilhas pela primeira vez a dezassete de Junho de mil quinhentos e noventa e seis, na sua viagem em busca da passagem nordeste. Chamou-lhes Spitsbergen, montes aguçados, pela forma bicuda das suas montanhas. Henry Hudson encontra-as no regresso da sua viagem à costa da Gronelândia em mil seiscentos e sete. Repara e refere que as  águas de Spitsbergen estão repletas de baleias. Entusiasmados por uma fácil fortuna, chegam então às ilhas vagas e vagas de pescadores. Primeiro um inglês, Jonas Poole, que lá rumou em mil seiscentos e dez, na companhia de marinheiros do golfo da biscaia, mestres da técnica da caça à baleia. Depois, expedições holandesas, dinamarquesas, norueguesas e francesas, todas elas a reclamarem o monopólio daquela riqueza. Criam-se entrepostos. Um deles cresce e transforma-se numa próspera cidade de Verão: estamos em mil seiscentos e vinte e três, data de nascimento de &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Smeerenburg"&gt;Smeerenburg&lt;/a&gt; ou Blubbertown, a Cidade da Banha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039214415973809090" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Re7iz_sle8I/AAAAAAAAAFQ/g3ES9PQLn1k/s320/Hulsius.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: italic;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Smeerenburg / Blubbertown, circa 1629. [ampliação &lt;a href="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/Hulsius.jpg"&gt;aqui&lt;/a&gt;].&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;Durante o longo dia polar, milhares de marinheiros holandeses habitam um pedaço de terra  onde não faltam bares, refeitórios, armazéns, fornos comunitários, padarias, igrejas e até um forte; um pedaço de terra que tresanda a gordura de baleia queimada. Centenas de barcos ancoram no seu porto. Trazem baleias; levam óleos, combustíveis, espermacete, ossos, peles. Será assim durante vinte longos e prósperos anos, até a cidade se achar sem a fonte da sua riqueza: a pesca das baleias deixa as águas interiores e passa a ser feita em mar aberto; a gordura já não precisa de ser derretida em terra. Smeerenburg já não faz sentido. De cidade passa a armazém esquecido. Transforma-se no primeiro não-lugar de Svalbard, o arquipélago de onde ninguém é.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039214647902043090" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Re7jBfsle9I/AAAAAAAAAFY/aEbXM-t0aWg/s320/blubber.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: italic;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Vestígios dos fornos de Smeerenburg / Blubbertown em 2004 [© F. Steenhuisen].&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Passam-se trinta verões até que a cidade fantasma volte a ser falada. Friederich Martens, autor de &lt;em&gt;Spitsbergische oder Groenlandische Reise-Beschreibung gethan im Jahr 1&lt;/em&gt;67&lt;em&gt;1&lt;/em&gt;, descreve-a desolada, em ruínas, povoada por memórias e alguns ursos polares. Invernos e Verões, noites e dias, sucedem-se no esquecimento de Svalbard. De quando em vez é visitada pelos &lt;em&gt;Pomors&lt;/em&gt;, camponeses russos que desconhecendo a ciência dos mares lá conseguem chegar em pequenos batéis chamados &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;lodias&lt;/span&gt;. Durante anos, exploram o interior montanhoso da ilha de Spitsbergen. Caçam ursos, raposas, focas e morsas, alimentam-se da sua carne e negoceiam a sua pele. Há também a memória de Starashchin, o caçador, de quem se diz ter lá invernado trinta e nove vezes, quinze das quais consecutivas. E depois? Depois segue-se o resgate da terra à penumbra: fazem-se expedições científicas e mapas, dão-se nomes aos lugares e às coisas. Descobre-se que aquele género de papoila não existe em mais lado nenhum do mundo. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Papaver dahlianum&lt;/span&gt;, a única. Questiona-se a origem da perfeição circular das pedras de &lt;a href="http://www.ucsc.edu/currents/02-03/01-20/patterns.html"&gt;Kvadehuksletta&lt;/a&gt;. Segue-se a primeira circum-navegação, feita por Elling Carlsen em 1863. A terra de ninguém é agora estudada por todos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039215545550207986" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Re7j1vsle_I/AAAAAAAAAFo/80WT2GCkbrI/s320/longyearbyen1906.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: italic;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Longyearbien em 1906.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;E assim parecia estar escrito o destino deste arquipélago, tal como Martin Conway o descreve, no início do século XX, em &lt;em&gt;No Man’s Land, a History of Spitsbergen from its discovery in 1596 to the beginning of the Scientific Exploration of the Country&lt;/em&gt;. Até que, em mil novecentos e seis, o acaso descobre carvão debaixo do espesso gelo. Um sinal de riqueza: entusiasmados pela fortuna, chegam então a Spitsbergen vagas e vagas de exploradores e mineiros. John Longyear instala aí a Arctic Coal Company. Extrai carvão durante todo o Inverno, armazena-o e exporta-o durante o Verão. A permanência e a prosperidade regressam e as cidades renascem: funda-se Longyearbyen, a capital, a cidade de Longyear em homenagem ao novo grande explorador. É a casa de centenas de trabalhadores da Arctic Coal Company. Os suecos, mais a norte, erguem a cidade mineira de &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sveagruva,_Svalbard"&gt;Sveagruva&lt;/a&gt;. Os ingleses Ny London. Os russos constroem &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barentsburg"&gt;Barentsburg&lt;/a&gt;, Grumantbyen e Pyramiden. Nasce &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ny_%C3%83%C2%85lesund"&gt;Ny Ålesund&lt;/a&gt;, a cidade mais a Norte do mundo, centro de estudos e pesquisas científicas. O vai e vem recomeça, se é que alguma vez esteve parado. Em Svalbard, a história repete-se. Balança entre pólos opostos. Terra de todos, terra de ninguém. Ausência e presença. Futuro e memória. Lugar e não-lugar. A permanência é apenas paisagem.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039215008679295970" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Re7jWfsle-I/AAAAAAAAAFg/IdzmYkGP4CE/s320/tri.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="font-style: italic;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Williem Barents, Martin Conway e John Longyear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="justify"&gt;&lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Longyearbyen"&gt;Longyearbien&lt;/a&gt; é hoje uma cidade próspera. Instalada na costa leste da ilha de &lt;a href="http://pt.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spitsbergen"&gt;Spitsbergen&lt;/a&gt;, como quase todas as cidades de &lt;a href="http://www.sysselmannen.svalbard.no/eng/"&gt;Svalbard&lt;/a&gt;, tem a alma das terras remotas, distantes de todos os mundos, o encantamento dos lugares do círculo do silêncio. Numa montanha próxima está a ser construído um gigantesco e megalómano &lt;a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science/nature/5094450.stm"&gt;cofre&lt;/a&gt; para albergar todas as plantas da Terra. Quando o apocalipse chegar, a salvação de todos poderá estar na terra de ninguém.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/postspitsbergen3.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-style: italic;" align="center"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Longyearbyen em 2007.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-731197678137238151?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/731197678137238151/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=731197678137238151' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/731197678137238151'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/731197678137238151'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/svalbard-histria-repete-se.html' title='svalbard: a história repete-se.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_9JVfPm0qBps/Re7j9fslfAI/AAAAAAAAAFw/6N2vGdgn0gs/s72-c/pyramiden1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-6708327997409216558</id><published>2007-03-06T17:35:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-20T23:48:41.720Z</updated><title type='text'>fantásticos espaços do círculo: hiperbórea.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/hiperborea.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;As regiões Hiperbóreas, num mapa de Ruysch, de 1507.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Região de terras aprazíveis e férteis, situada, provavelmente, no norte da Escócia. Altos penhascos, com formas femininas, flanqueiam a entrada dos estreitos que conduzem ao Mar Hiperbóreo. Recomenda-se ao viajante que não chegue a Hiperbórea de noite porque a escuridão é sinónimo de risco de vida, pois destrói os barcos que navegam pelas imediações.&lt;br /&gt;O sol aparece uma vez por ano, a meio do Verão, e só se põe uma única vez, em meados do Inverno. Os habitantes podam de manhã, cultivam ao meio-dia, colhem os frutos das árvores ao pôr-do-sol e recolhem-se aos seus abrigos à noite. Oferecem os primeiros frutos a Apolo. Em Hiperbórea não se conhece a tristeza. Os seus habitantes elegem o momento de morrer e celebram a morte com banquetes e regozijo, depois dos quais põem fim às suas vidas lançando-se ao mar desde o alto de um rochedo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;(Plínio, O Velho, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Historia Natural&lt;/span&gt;, Séc. I)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Breve Guía de Lugares Imaginarios, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;de &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Alberto Manguel e Gianni Guadalupi, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ed. Gran Bolsillo, Alianza Editorial, 1980, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;página 256.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3740785517890142101-6708327997409216558?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/6708327997409216558/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=6708327997409216558' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6708327997409216558'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/6708327997409216558'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/fantsticos-espaos-do-crculo-hiperbrea.html' title='fantásticos espaços do círculo: hiperbórea.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3740785517890142101.post-2252405646600204122</id><published>2007-03-04T14:44:00.000Z</published><updated>2007-06-20T23:48:12.227Z</updated><title type='text'>ciclo de filmes do círculo: nanook of the north.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://photobucket.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;img src="http://i115.photobucket.com/albums/n308/adivinadesordem/nanook.jpg" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://imdb.com/title/tt0013427/"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Nanook Of the North&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;: &lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.cinemaweb.com/silentfilm/bookshelf/23_rf1_2.htm"&gt;Robert J. Flaherty&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;, EUA / França, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;1922,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt; 73 minutos.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span&gt;1h13:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;The shrill piping of the wind, the rasp and hiss of driving snow, the mournful wolf howls of Nanook master dog tipify the melancholy spirit of the North.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&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/3740785517890142101-2252405646600204122?l=polaris-add.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/feeds/2252405646600204122/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3740785517890142101&amp;postID=2252405646600204122' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2252405646600204122'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3740785517890142101/posts/default/2252405646600204122'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://polaris-add.blogspot.com/2007/03/filmes-do-crculo-nanook-of-north.html' title='ciclo de filmes do círculo: nanook of the north.'/><author><name>Eduardo Brito</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/13737301082120136295</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
