Wooden Boat School

"Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

~ Mark Twain


What I look forward to the most in the Summer is to be a student. There is nothing quite like just sitting back and having your only responsibility be TO LEARN.

This year I was fortunate enough to start my vacation with a week long course in Seamanship at the Wooden Boat School, in Maine. The United States is a very beautiful country, I have to say. And that school, in Brooklin, Maine is a very special place. It is situated in the middle of acres of wild Maine land, complete with a lake, gorgeous waterfront, and bears.

Students of all ages and walks of life congregate to either build wooden boats or sail them, and everyone is happy. My teachers, Jane Ahlfeld and Jenny Bennet gave lectures in the morning and then stood back or gently guided us in the craft of sailing, much like Montessori directresses... observing and tailoring lessons to individual skill level and interest.

The school, in general, follows many of the principles that I love about Montessori:

- Hands on education
- Learning at one's own pace
- Excellent guidance, but you have to do the work yourself
- Trust in humans (lots of things are done in the old fashioned, honor system way)


I learned a lot, sailed a lot, made new friends, and loved every minute of it.





"Happiness, knowledge, not in another place but this place, not for another hour but this hour."

--Walt Whitman

Saturday. Chicks love frozen yogurt.

What is sweeter than a handsome man who loves puppies?




Vanilla orange frozen yoghurt!



I had some friends visit a few weeks ago from Portland, OR. And during their visit we broke out ye old ice cream maker a few times. After our discovery of the yumminess of drinking orange tea with a splash of vanilla soy milk in it (so creamsicley delicious!) we decided to replicate it in frozen yoghurt form. Here's our recipe:

In a blender:

3 cups plain yoghurt (the thicker the better)
1 cup sweetened condensed milk
large splash of vanilla extract (the kind that comes from vanilla bean if you have it)
juice of 6 oranges
grated rind of 1 orange
1 cup of half and half or cream

Pour it into the ice cream maker and voila! I am wondering about the possibility of making it without the ice cream maker...

The G rated version of this recipe that we used for school this week was:

3 cups of vanilla yoghurt
juice of 2 oranges
large splash of milk


Then poured this mixture into popsicle molds (we make a lot of popsicles at school)and had Vanilla orange yogurt popsicles. Very very delicious.

Weekend: On Running.

Yesterday I ran my second ever 5K race. I have never been much of a runner, but running is a sport that fascinates me because of its egalitarian simplicity. You need no gear other than a good pair of knees. 5K is not really a big distance per say, but considering that a year ago I was out of breath after a 2 minute jog, I have come a long way. Although my running form perhaps looks more like a fast-walk, or a slow-jog, I enjoyed the race tremendously.

Both races that I've participated in, I've run with a mindset of basically maintaining an even (slow) speed throughout the course. I start in the back where no eager athlete will trample me, and gradually pass the large ladies in spandex, the little-bit-joggers, and some of the fast starters that run out of gas early on.

In both races so far I've managed to find my niche right alongside the 9-11 year olds. These little guys bust out running for about 300 meters, and then they walk, all of this while they chew gum or drink out of juice boxes, then they explode again. This is their rhythm of running. I pass them, and then they pass me, and so on until the course is finished.

The mentality of pacing oneself, of saving something for later, is a capacity exclusive of the adult world. It is safe and solid. There is something that is so beautiful though, in a child that is giving all of it's energy for the minute or so that it lasts, in a full fledged run.

When I was done and stood in the sidelines sweating and my calves throbbing to watch the real athletes, the runners, complete their 10 K at the finish line, they looked like the children that I had run with. There was something primal and wonderful about them expending all of their energy in simply going as fast as they can.

Vacation!

Our local surf break exploded a little bit. Just in time!

What it feels like:


What it is:

Fall break.

These vacation days are conducive especially to excursions in company of the canine sort. We go for long walks in the dunes and the desert and swims in the calm blue water. I don't know who is enjoying the break more, me or my dog.

Friends hiding in nooks and crannies.

Having friends come to visit me on this rock in the middle of the ocean during this busy time has afforded me the opportunity to spend some moments in the places which make me feel grateful for living here. Instead of running school errands all day, rushing around in my car all over the roads, and dreaming about running school errands at night, and driving my car in my sleep, I run a little bit of errands and then go for short day adventure trips to the recondite natural nooks Aruba has to offer.

Yesterday, for example, Annie, David and I (and Maxi, my beloved cunucu dog) "discovered" a path that goes behind the Balashi Gold Ruins and circles beautifully around the salt flats of Frenchman's Pass where we met 2 of Aruba's most admired endemic species:

The "Infant In Arms", aptly named after swaddled babies of yore, hanging onto the dried vegetation during the hot summer months.



The highly endangered Aruban Rattlesnake, of which we met TWO on our path newly nicknamed "Rattlesnake Alley" or "Risk it". (Considering it's estimated that only around 200 of these snakes exist in the wild, we hit the endangered snake scientist jackpot). We got out of there quickly suspecting that the other 198 relatives of the snakes we saw could possibly be inhabiting this previously untrafficked area.

North coast with my dog.

I went on a north coast expedition with my dog in search of flat stones and other viable playground materials. We had close encounters with Aruban savage wildlife.


I think it's the first time Max has seen donkeys. I wonder if to her they were just very strange looking large dogs.

Further on there was the tribe of goats that sent my dog into an out of control barking frenzy in the back seat. So much so that she managed somehow to tangle herself up in the seatbelt, straight-jacket style.

Home again.

It's good to be home.

Wooden Boat School in Maine was certainly spring for my mind. I met so many interesting people there from all walks of life, gleaned plenty of valuable lessons from observing at Peninsula Montessori, gathered loads of great books for our school, learned some things about sailing, made friends with a dog, and spent some time in the pristine nature of Brooklin. I'd have the pictorial evidence of all this hadn't I fumbled with our camera when disembarking a small wooden boat accidentally causing it to take a nosedive into the middle of the harbor's murky waters.

Edit: Apparently a Canadian and other intrepid fellow at Wooden Boat boldly braved the frigid waters of the waterfront and found the camera today! And I've been told that the camera chip still works and will be mailed to Aruba! Will surely post pictures when the camera arrives. The real miracle will be for the package to triumph over the island's post system...

Skol to spring.

It has been a long winter. A winter of challenges involving teeth and stomach and other body parts. Of grinding my bottom in a chair for 250 hours of observation. Of re-organizing, re-typing, and re-printing Assistants to Infancy coursework (the sound of the printer now Pavolvs me into an immediate calm stupor). A winter in snow, wind, and rain.

But today, in Sweden, we officially welcome the Spring!

Last night in the company of the sum of the Varbergian villagers, we assisted their pagan ritual of setting a giant mountain of organic debris alight. Instead of burning witches, we intended to burn our recycling paper. In my case, a composite of lecture notes, correction post-its, used up tissues, and medication packaging. In the haste of departure, I forgot my bag at home, alas. So our little motley crew stood by the giant fire's edge, breathing the downwind smoke, watching the blazing rubble and solemnly welcoming the warmth.

The end of the Swedish road (more like a bike path).

Ginni Sackett says that "perfect" means "complete". In that case, here are my Assistants to Infancy albums color coded and perfect. Aside from taking the exams, presenting these puppies and having them approved by the trainer and examiner essentially marks the end of the course for me here in Sweden.

Like a rabid sucking vortex this trip is coming to an end and I am frantically gathering my last impressions of Spring, and kebabs, and fog horns and all of those wonderful things that are not part of my life in Aruba.

Happy Birthday Beef Supreme!

Enjoy that party tuna ye shady little trickster.

More Amsterdam.

Crashed the Association Montessori International's General Meeting. In the picture distinguished delegates: one of the Swedes, the Sri Lankan, Yours Truly from Aruba/Costa Rica, a German, and the Texas Norwegian. And that's just 5 out of the dozens of other distinguished folks there.

Maria Montessori's Own House.

In a brief stint to Amsterdam last week, our whole Assistants to Infancy team got to visit Maria Montessori's Holland residence. Her house is located in Konniningweg (try to say that without sounding like a dimwit), what is now the Hall of Justice of the AMI.

The building is narrow and with characteristic Amster-stairs (a wall that only appears to have steps) that must have kept her shipshape while she lived here. Of note was her original library chock full of beautifully aged first editions of her books and translations of her books in dozens of languages (eg. "O Segredo a Infância" - the samba version of "The Secret of Childhood").

ukranian borsch.

Few are the lucky who get to room with an authentic Ukranian willing to whip up a 15 Liter pot of borsch so that no on else in the house will have to cook for 5 days. Extra lucky are those who get to partake of the borsch while it snows outside their chipper little Swedish home, while watching people's hats and scarves get blasted off outside the window.

Rule #1 for making the borsch: don't mistake your hand for beet.

Quick version recipe of Nelya's Authentic Purple Water with Vegetables (Borsch):
From what I gathered while I watched:

16 large potatoes- diced
8 large beets- 6 diced, 2 grated
2 large onions- chopped
8 carrots- 6 sliced in strips (is that called julienned?), 2 grated
1 large cabbage- same as with carrots
2 cloves of garlic- pressed
lots of chicken stock- 3 bullion cubes

In a colossal pot start to boil the un-grated beets, carrots, onion, potatoes and chicken stock/bullion water.
Fry up with butter in the biggest pan you've got one of the onions, the grated carrots and beets.
When the stuff in the pot has been boiling a really long time, add the fried stuff. Later add the cabbage.
Almost at the end, add the garlic and some salt.

Serve with sour cream.
Makes 15 Liters.

Blog goes to Sweden.

After a mainly uneventful but arduously long trek involving airplanes, buses, trains, and cars I made it back to Varberg unscathed but severely jet lagged. To combat the restless leg syndrome I went for a nice run yesterday afternoon in the fair 10 degree weather expecting it to be the coldest weather we'd get during the next 6 weeks. The trees are budding, the daffodils blooming, the cars chainless. The Swedes have broken out their shorts and roam the expansive sidewalks sock free.
That was yesterday.

This morning, when I woke up, whoa is the Swedes, because Varberg was coated in 1 foot solid snow. Whoa is also me because I have pictorical evidence of this but no cable to marry with my camera. (Along with more and more items I realized I forgot in hasty 2-hours-before-departure packing. Most painful the realization of the missing Skype headset.) I almost got to experience biking to school through snow, but Denise insisted we take the car. No one argued. The Varbergians though, carry on for richer or poorer on their bikes making tracks through the thick thick snow.

(Since I have no cable for the camera, I snagged someone else's pictures. They may or may not have anything to do with Sweden, Varberg, or my life at all.)

A Year of Only Januaries

January is the best time of the year. The sunshine is just right in Aruba. And when Maxi and I go for walks we suck it all in.

January is also when our little friend Lise Lotte was born (only 2 days ago!). And as a welcome gift for her, I made her a little movement mat. The mini movement mat is meant to be used during the first months of the baby's life up until crawling begins. The mat can be placed anywhere around the house so that the baby can hear the sounds of the family, it allows maximum freedom of movement for the little non-crawlers, and mobiles can be hung over it for added visual stimulation. It is basically a soft cotton mattress (I sewed two thick bath towels together and covered them with a washed organic cotton) and has a really soft cotton covering that can be washed.





David and I also went on a mad planting spree at the school. The garden now boasts guayaba, grapefruit, jasmine (for flower arranging), tangerine, and a second lime tree (one can never have enough limes).



The weeds have grown at alarming rates giving a false impression of green abundance. The new trees are there although you need special 3-D glasses to see them in the picture.

The walls in the 3-6 classroom were busted to join together the two biggest rooms in the house, a huge advance in the process of it starting to looking like a classroom.

December 23. Best Simple Bread Recipe.

Baking bread with children is a memorable experience for both the child and the adult. So much sensory information! On many occasions during my years in the classroom we baked bread together as gifts for parents or simply as a tasty treat to have in the afternoon. At home I bake bread quite often basically because there is simply not a lot that's better than a slice of fresh bread and butter in the morning.

I've tried many recipes, but this is the one that has consistently yielded the best bread.

In a big bowl:

1 cup of warm water + a tbsp of sugar + 2 tbsp yeast --- leave it alone for 5 minutes

Add: 3 tbsp olive oil + 1 C milk + 1 tsp salt + 2 tbsp sugar + 3 cups of flour

Stir the mixture 50 times to the left, and 50 times to the right

Gradually add 3-4 more cups of flour until the dough is not sticky and ready to be kneaded.
Knead the dough for 10-15 minutes (3-4 songs on your mp3 player).
Let it rest in a warm place (over the lit oven) for 1 hour in a greased bowl.
Punch the dough down and let it rest again for 30 minutes.
Form the loaves into 2 small bread pans and let it rest for 10-30 minutes.

Bake the loaves for 10 minutes at 400 degrees. Remove them from the pans and bake for 5 more minutes. Let them cool before you slice them.

December 21. The Cadillac.

,

While away in Sweden taking Assistants to Infancy training (Montessori 0-3) I touched back on my long abandoned love for sewing. A to I training involves a lot of material making (sewing projects, mobile making, wood working). When I came back to Aruba, I hunted for a sewing machine that would meet my needs as a beginner and meet my wallet's needs as well. I purchased a plastic machine at Price Smart which promptly fell to pieces just a few days after I bought it. The repair guy that came to pick up my bundle of broken crap showed a lot of contempt for my broken purchase and promised to show me what a real sewing machine should look like. He gave me a 101 on the old timey machines that he coincidentally sells at his repair shop. I left him the plastic as a souvenir (he already had a mounting pile of broken plastic machines in the corner of his shop) and brought home this CADILLAC of sewing machines. It is a Singer 237 from 1968, all metal and all love. It took two people to carry it from the car to the dining table (where I suppose it will make its home forever). The machine is perfect for me. You basically cannot screw up with a machine that only sews forwards, backwards, straight or zigzag.

The test project for the machine was a Montessori Teacher's Essential Apron. Two side pockets for observation notebook and pen (for split second retrieving, like taking out revolvers in a cowboy bar, except it's a pen and a little notepad) and a middle pocket for storing the millions of units that one finds on the floor throughout the day if one is the teacher of my classroom. The apron required no previous knowledge of apron making, no ironing (we don't own one), and not a lot of time.

Sayenne made one too but hers is not finished yet. When done, we will showcase it as it well deserves.