WFT
No.
This one is not made up.
Mndrejc Puved
April 2018
English-april 2025
Table of contents
I don't feel like writing anything else because my thoughts keep returning to the sequel and I conclude that until it's on paper, there won't be another one.
However.
Looks like I'll have to write the ending first. "Memories from the DeepFreezer".
Although that's not true at all.
First.
I think it's good to have some water flowing in between, in fact the more the better, so that the story gains patina, gains in interest with distance.
Second.
Memories ended quite well, but not terminated because ...
And so, I sit on the threshold of the door, the balcony, in reality it was a loggia, but I wouldn't bother with architectural problems now, I smoke, I was still happily puffing at that time and I watch the starry sky above the castle hill. Sometimes even the stars were visible, although Ljubljana is quite light-polluted for a metropolitan area.
Now.
It wasn't just the stars, I don't think they have that much of an impact on some people's mood. I say some because some people just aren't into the moon. They don't know what it could be yet.
Others.
It's not like I'm explaining, because everyone imagines it for themselves.
I myself am quite sensitive to weather changes. Not so much that I could go to the weather forecast on TV, but a few days in advance I can be grumpy because a front is approaching. It is still over Milan, but I am already pesky. No, nothing shocking, just a bit more spiky. Slovenians have a really lucky word for the condition. Grumpy. (pesky)
Ja.
But I also know how to be in a great mood when most people are tired of the rain, and I'm already jumping on one leg, Maja sometimes said, I'm super excited, because it's already suny above Milan and it will be here the day after tomorrow.
Ok.
Just to show that there are all kinds of situations.
Some would add more crap, but that doesn't fit into the above context, because back then, on that board, the door used to have a wooden threshold, and the one I was sitting on still had one, otherwise new, beautifully varnished oak wood, I enjoyed smoking, on the balcony, like this, on a quiet night.
My neighbor Darja was trying to convince her to tell me something because smoke had crept into their bedroom, but those weren't the times to bother her about it. Yes, if you were kind and considerate:
"Oh, really. I honestly didn't even think about that.."
But in those days, this was still a rarity, we smokers still had a fair amount of autonomy, otherwise a pale shadow of the times when all smoked in every frame.
If you remember Humpry in Casablanca, that's it.
Well, not everyone has yet weighed in, and even Darjas defended himself, "you can't be like that."
Anyway, the topic never came up until we met, but years later Darja mentioned to me how I had been a pain in the ass, but at that time we were already preparing to move and I had already quit smoking. More on that later.
To finally set it up, there on the doorstep, on the balcony, with a view of ...
Yes.
The moon was also visible and after I had been staring at it for a while, I guess you know, if not, there's no help for you and there's no point in explaining, but if you do, then you know that a lot of different feelings and thoughts can arise.
And I'm thinking, do my Finns see it too?
And.
I'm writing a letter.
Otherwise, without the moon, so that no one would think anything else, like that this is for the moon, so and so, but that it would be really nice if we could meet again sometime, so and so. Yes, everything else too.
How are you, but otherwise, be nice, and write, forever yours Andrej. Well, I had to exaggerate, it's more personal writing right away.
Well, you can't write:
Would you?
Yes.
No.
Circle the answer!
This is not a letter. It should have a little preface, as the English say, a little speech, half towards the end, half in the middle, but not directly, after all, these are Finns, even though they are so nice and in this case a Swedish-speaking minority, but the principle remains and you can breathe.
"Would we?"
With little hope, though. But as our southern brothers used to say:
"Who he asks, he doesn't wander."
And more than that, they can't even kick your ass, which is also a bit of a possibility, they are still polite in the north and for such a reaction, I would need at least personal contact, a party greased with maligans, and something like that can happen. At least theoretically. I don't know of any practical examples.
Now.
I don't remember the details here. Was it an email or was it one of the last physical letters?
I don't count those at TAX office. They still traveled physically for years. But the personal ones quickly faded away. Only some of them became ossified, they wanted to physically. Some still do. But I must point out that they are only for a sample and even they don't have much correspondence anymore.
I hate this modern socialization, but on the other hand, I can't imagine life without it.
Unbearable lightness of socialisation
»Well, let's leave it at that.«
and than I forget about writing and live my every day.
Let me start at the beginning.
I go down the arcades, at Plečnik Market. I quite enjoyed walking there. Not only because I am an architect, it just added value. Even before, in high school, when I had never imagined myself being an engineer, I preferred to take a detour so that I could walk along these same arcades. Even then, I was fascinated by the ambiance in the space set up with arcades.
Not the architecture, that came later, but the space is nice. Back then, it wasn't as hospitable as it is today, when on the other side, they're overdoing it and there are only cafes and boutiques. In those days, there were only butchers. I don't remember anything else. I think there was, but I didn't register it. Or I did, but I didn't bother with it at the time.
It's very similar to photography. I've often thought that there's nothing left to photograph. Well, not people. There's never a shortage of those. But city streets and environments. If there wasn't a special moment, like a troll crashing into a corner, then there was never anything interesting, and I've been walking around the same corners for years.
Yes, all sorts of things happened, on all sorts of corners, but to take a nice photo, not on the same corner. Until some foreign photographer arrived. He took a photo of the same corner, it was published somewhere that I had seen it, but then you thought, how come if I pass by it every day.
I even went and shot the same shot a few more times, and I saw that it was possible. Yes, it's not just the angle itself, it's also the moment, and the light is something else, but in reality, there's never a shortage of shots, if you just look at them differently.
It's the same with the avenue on Vegova. They cut trees down there on the Graben side. We had demonstrations against it, but only after that and there was no way to put it back up, but I didn't want to talk about it. In fact, I didn't even see it until it was cut down, even though I walked by it every day.
Some things are so logical and ingenious that you don't even see them until they're removed.
This is, in my opinion, the most ingenious thing about architecture. When it is the only logical thing, then it is the maximum.
That's how the arcades at the market were for me and I walked through them, on a hot July day. I don't know if it wasn't 50 degrees. Maybe 40. 30 for sure. And mybe some more.
I came back from Helsinki in February. It was one of those rare winters that snowed in March. Everyone was complaining, and I thought it was so nice. Even the snow, was warm.
Really.
There is powder all winter long. They hardly know about the southern one. It is truly a rarity.
My mother welcomed me with open arms. When I left for the white world, it seemed like forever, so she was quite happy. We had a very special relationship. The longer we went, the more we loved each other. Together, though.
It was like 5 minutes, and half of it was gone. Mostly on full blast. So even then I just went home to sleep, and kept everything else to a minimum.
I joined a collective where we divided everything into equal parts. We also didn't have a mop, so we also cleaned the floors ourselves, not just the toilets.
But it suited me just fine. Everything was predictable and acceptable like that. Not that everything was different up there.
Just as an illustration. Up there, before I came back, I made one of the last plots 6m long. Here, we did everything on A3. There was no need to make plans.
Well, yes. There I knew when the salary would be and how much it would be, even how much would be left after all expenses. Fortunately, there were also exceptions and everyone knew each other. So Paris was never a problem.
But here. We didn't know when we would get paid. Or if we would. Poor as church mice. But I whistled as I walked through the arcades. Everything was so optimistic.
And than.
How to put it?
One day I announced, now I'm getting married.
Hey, my colleagues teased me. My colleagues have long since moved away, their children are already in school. What kind of university, and I'm just starting to plan. That I'll hardly get anything useful in these years. A divorcee with a herd of children, but nothing more.
Ok. Never mind.
When I made that decision, I felt that way too.
How is that?
That is.
As much as everything was on the optimistic side, there was also a pattern that was already apparent and I was trying to avoid it.
Pattern?
Yes. When I returned, there was a wave, not a big one, but it came from abroad and I was treated as such.
How?
Ok.
I'm going to town with 9-bus at night.
"Or just like that?"
Yes. Look at how and what.
Actually, without expectations. If nothing else, to Polonia to chat, there was always something interesting going on there. The flow of faces was the highest there. Well, maybe somewhere else it was even higher, but I didn't know that myself and that's why it was the highest there.
I wasn't planning on going there.
Just a little bit around.
On 9bus Vanda.
"So how are you? And otherwise? Are you still there?"
She smelled like old times. Some are made for love. But she still had high goals and I was just there for her to have fun.
That's exactly what I wanted to talk about.
And so I roll from party to party. At least one every week. And that's fine. Just noble, nothing hardcore. Just polite phrases.
"We are expecting nice weather.
And otherwise?
Ok. Also.
Shall I bring another glass of champagne??"
I'll tell you. It just reeked of sophistication.
They considered me a decoration.
The opera singer hosted the producer and they introduced me:
The architect has just returned from Finland.
"Interesting. Do you also like Scandinavian furniture?
Yes, of course. The wood is beautiful."
And, like that.
Then a poet from Sarajevo had a recital and I shone there too. She's a great cat, but I only saw her from afar. They didn't even introduce me. They just put me in the same group as the 50 others.
Do I remember any?
Yes, the guy who brought me.
Along the way, someone from the World Development Bank was gathering companions and I was selected for the walks on the scale.
But come on, come on. I did greet her twice in the city, but then she was probably transferred to Greece.
Once, when I sat all evening with a couple from the Italian embassy, chatting about the weather and stuff, and the darkness fell on my eyes, I said goodbye politely, but declined the next invitation, because we were about to host a competition.
In short, from the bottom up.
I don't go like that.
And I walked under the arcades on a hot day, while the asphalt was still soft, to Gornji trg (upper market).
They had a ceramics fair there and I was planning to visit a high school classmate who was a pretty successful ceramicist, as far as that's possible.
Okay. Never mind.
I joked around for a while, driving away his customers. Hey, it was so hot that they would have left without me, so they had one more reason.
Then I got a little bored and went to look at the other pots.
There weren't many pots at all. In fact, they were in the minority. Mostly trifles. Brooches, necklace, the essentials.
But.
There, a little up from Pavla (tavern), there was a stand full of pots. Big blue bowls like that. There were almost none at the other stands.
At that time I was still carrying around a Canon fotocamera with a 28-200 Vivitar zoom. In short, this big dandy.
I was wearing a light green shirt from Levi Strauss & Co., from which I had torn off the sleeves, so that my biceps were visible under the fringes of the remnants of the sleeves.
In short, an even bigger dude.
I kept taking pictures, especially if a hot girl walked by.
This biggest hotshot.
The saleswoman at this stand was just reading a book, as if I wasn't there. I passed by at least 3 times. I took her picture, she was even more embarrassed. I took pictures of others and after a while I commented if anyone stopped and showed interest, saying how nice it is, how cheap it is, and so on. So the saleswoman looked at me, but what if it was one of those looks, which they say if looks could kill, I would surely bleed to death right there, riddled with a whole magazine of bullets.
Yes. There have been times when I've been told I don't understand anything. Sometimes it even comes in handy, as will be explained below.
I went around the stands, more or less successfully. What is successful here is debatable, but not everyone's brains soured from the intense heat and I managed to do quite a bit with some, even complete strangers.
A passing acquaintance.
Vljudnostni pogovor.
Some interest even.
And so.
I made smaller and smaller circles, which means that I visited the aforementioned stall more and more. Even for the saleswoman, it can be said that not everything counts and she slowly started to give in, regarding the text. And slowly added some polite phrases.
Now.
Now. That's like that.
Namely Oli came. She's my friend's girl from the first stall, where they first run off me, which has already been described.
Oli, it should be added, is special already from before, and even more so, because when she was approch herself there at that stall where we were sitting with the shy blue ceramics seller, she blurted out:
"This is your future husband.
?
Hey, where did that go?
Do you know her?
And you too?
How long has it been?
What about you?"
There was a bit of silence for a while, I think, maybe something with the angels, because somehow the question arose whether we should go to the castle to the ceramics exhibition, because it's way too hot here and there aren't any people anyway, but who wants to hang around in such heat?
Now.
I have a little hole in half. I don't remember how and what was up there. And even less down there. The discrepancy was already apparent at the exhibition, as the professor knew how to set it up in art theory, because what I liked, she didn't like and vice versa.
This happened again and again and is still happening. She raised me in ceramics fan, it took me a long time to get the hang of it, and to this day, I still don't see the dynamics and dramaturgy in the tension curve of the bowl, let alone how the gallery is arranged. For those of you who don't know Slovenian, those pots that have a lid have a gallery, and the lid isn't just there, but sits on the gallery, in the vernacular, the edge of the pot.
Ok.
I have no idea, but I'm trying to repeat myself now. I agree with her completely, but first we need to change the perspective that useful ceramics are the right ones, and sculpting on the theme of ceramics is not.
Yes, a completely legitimate point of view, but one that has hordes of opponents, because most would do some art and being able to make a useful pen is irrelevant.
This is also a legitimate point of view, but I'm a fan of first one.
Than.
Than.
I don't even remember if the letter or email came. Either way.
Oh, that's great, and how are you? And of course everything else, nothing new, everything is the same as before and how I am?
Since I'm a man of action, and I know that Finns can get into a lot of trouble with politeness, we'd never finish, I'll continue, shall we go skiing?
But where?
And everything else, everything as usual, etc., which is already set up above.
I look for an agency and it turns out that there is a nice date there just before Maria-Alm.
Oh, yes.
Now I remember.
It wasn't a letter, it was an email, because ...
I can't find the agency at all.
So.
I find an agency, but they have nothing because everything is far away, booked during the winter holidays, except for the 5-star Garmisch, in the attic for a small million.
I sit down, on the internet. In those days, there was still a modem via landline telephone, if you remember, sometimes modems whistled, well, chirped, but strangely the same as on a spring morning on our cherry tree, when the universal birds choir has a conference at 5 am.
That's how modems whistled back then. As a result, the transfer speed was more poetic. But we loved each other and there wasn't even any problem. Yes, it took a while, but it was even more exciting and I come across rooms in a block of flats in Maria-alm between Bishoffen and Zell-am-zee.
Then.
Just as I'm trying to contact the janitor, who pretends to speak absolutely no English and doesn't understand what I'm talking about, and maybe shows him a printout of the apartment rental receipt for the apartment building we're standing in front of, an Opel parks up and two people jump out of it, screaming and whining like crazy, jumping and flapping their wings.
Of course, no one bothered the janitor anymore, who understood everything immediately. I think he squealed and is still having hiccups today because we did a jumping and hugging thing like we've never done before, because we're just stupid Scandinavians who don't show emotions.
In fact, my better half looked really scared, but she just smiled a little in between because it didn't look that bad.
Ok.
Stupid, yes. U and embarrassing too. But not to die of fear. Because they're not violent, just crazy people. We're used to people like that.
Not this crazy, though. There aren't any of them here, but in cold foreign countries they're even more crazy and different.
Ok.
The two bouncing specimens were Mona and Jani. My friends whom we met at the ski resort.
They came from the airport in Salzburg.
That the Danes would arrive by train in the evening to the neighboring town, where we went to look for them.
There was also jumping and hugging, but a little less intense because it was already starting to get repetitive.
No, yes.
That first impression, when your head is telling you, but it's normal, you get confused.
But it's not. There's just a little bit of skepticism somewhere deep in my soul, not my brain, but I just can't imagine that after I don't know how many years, I will meet friends again that I once knew a long time ago, ok it's not that long ago, at least looking back like this, when distances and time blur and only calculation tells the actual quantities. But who can calculate?
This is not a small thing at all, and it is not at all rare. The more water flows, the shorter the distances become and the more time turns into mist.
A Portuguese guy asked me in Madrid while we were standing in line for a hostel if I knew the one when I told him I was from the South.
Yes, no, but where is it from??
From Bukarest.
From Spain, everything was a little to the right, and a little down.
How much?
Very close.
And so I should have pinched myself in the cheek, or wherever one pinches oneself on such occasions, in the ass, I guess not of myself, or also, to make it more real, when I hugged old friends there at the station of a yodeling town.
But there was no time for such details, so much had to be said.
"So how are you?
Okay.
What are you doing?
Nothing.
What's new?
Nothing.
And otherwise?"
No. It wasn't like that, but it's far from it.
First of all, you don't know where to start. Then you have to get used to being with people who don't have the same patterns of expression. At least if they're not under the influence of maligans.
So yes. Yes, there were pauses. But I still had Diana with one arm when I asked Bernt how they traveled?
U. DB was mentioned many times in all our meetings, including at our first one. That they came at the last minute, and there were no delays at all, even though they changed to a monotrain.
The apartment was really too small for 6 people, but we were still young and used to all sorts of situations and then you just laugh in retrospect.
As usual, we had to have an aperitif right away.
Mine was already looking at me suspiciously. Mona made spaghetti that had to be washed down with plenty of Merlot.
Before we even ate, the Scandinavians had already started singing. Mine was completely pale.
But with the northerners, at least from this side of the Iron Curtain, everything is within the limits of acceptable. Nobody starts to oppress in. Well, that's debatable, but probably if you're on a relationship without problems and we got caught.
Just once the level is established, you can feel that it is constantly joyful, but never excessive.
We really are very different. I would say that if the Danes are the night, the Slovenians are the day, and the Finns are somewhere in between, wandering in the dark.
Now.
The terminology needs to be clarified.
In this case, the Danes are Diana and Bernt, the Finns are Mona and Jani, and for the Slovenians you can imagine who.
Diana came to Finland from Denmark, at about the same time as me, and caught Bernt there. Bernt is a Swedish-speaking Finn. I would say he is a pretty typical representative of his kind.
Swedish-speaking Finns are not shy at all and they are not always quiet. If anything, this is not it.
Ok.
Maybe Bernt is a slightly happier representative of the above, although according to my comparisons, there were enough for the whole bus, and there are 50 seats on the bus, it wasn't exactly packed, but it was still full, and what can I say, the 40 Swedish-speaking Finns weren't shy at all.
Well, a little bit, but just enough to be appropriate and to make it half as good as it gets once you cross the barrier of ignorance.
Yes, he's louder than most, but some are even louder. Not even loud, but hilarious nonetheless.
Now.
After you pour a little, someone quickly starts laughing, but for so long and so many times, and there aren't many of them, and Bernt can be, towards evening, when the smell comes from the kitchen and he lies down, smooth wine, fine.
It all started with Diana.
I'll stick to her pure beginning when I describe her. Now just that she's a party animal. Blonde, like all Danes, but otherwise a born complicater. Everything is clear to her, but only until she gets involved. Then she can be quite loud if the milieu is right, but otherwise she doesn't say everything. At least not right away.
This is the custom of the Scandinavians. Not to tell everything. It is because you need to adjust your horizons before you can even get a little bit of information, but that was half the story..
Mona is Norwegian, grandmother is supposedly from Lapland, and mother is from Tromso. And not just mom. The whole family.
Mona came to Finland for graduate school and Jani apparently hit on her as soon as she got off the ship..
Jani is a Swedish-speaking Finn. He is the best at the air microphone, because Bernt plays the air guitar..
Now.
All four are lawyers, at least by training.
After many years of practicing law, Mona gave it up and is now a painter..
After moving to Copenhagen, Bernt got a job at an insurance company and is currently the biggest expert in computer insurance because he knows nothing about computers and therefore doesn't even ask what the problem is, because he wouldn't understand it anyway, just what the insurance terms are and that's why they call him on 100 directions at a time. Because everyone else gets involved with software and hardware problems.
Now.
What is so different??
This is not so easy to describe, but it is something about consumerism. Not in the Slovenian way. No, not at all. It doesn't matter what anyone has. This is a special story anyway.
Yet.
The closest illustration would be the story of the carbon footprint.
If we Slovenians are self-sufficient with our gardens. Well, at least we try. We separate waste, how effective it is is debatable, but in principle we produce significantly less.
No, not polyvinyl bags. Here the Danes are significantly ahead of us and hardly use them. They don't even burn 5 million candles for the Day of the Dead out of a population of 2 million. They don't even have hysteria on this day.
Therefore.
If he doesn't know how to use a phone. There was a similar story with computers before, half of them go for a new one. That's just what they say. Who else goes to the store?
Yes, for wine. That's as important there as it is here, but who knows, maybe... I can't remember what would be as sacred to Slovenians as buying wine.
He doesn't even understand that a phone can be repaired. A computer can be rebooted.
If only it were like that with technology.
In many areas we don't even get along.
How are you friends like that?
Yes, that's the specifics. I would say that we've all adapted, and radically.
No, I don't go get a new computer when it gets slow. But apart from grinning at Bernt and telling him how much technology is driving him crazy, I don't get involved anymore. At the beginning I tried to add something, but the basics are completely different, so I soon gave up and just continued in the areas where we agree.
We only had dinner in the apartment the first night. There was not enough space, but at that time it was not a problem with different tastes.
Well, more with orders, as it became very pronounced over the years. But more on that later.
In Denmark, all the bars are about the same level, and the food is also pretty good.
Now.
There are also no really good ones, because they are all average, I am writing this for those times, before the European Union. It is certainly very different now. But back then, the Danes thought that all the bars were equally good, unlike Slovenians, who find a good bar and then keep coming back. So we ate well twice, and almost bad twice. Once, the bar was good, and the food was great, not just the food. But we have never experienced anything like that again.
I tried to explain to them that not everyone has a good bar, but it's like showing the mountains to the Finns. In the end, they politely ask:
"Nice, nice. But, do you have some flat land?"
In the Finnish soul there is a flat land and they only know the hills from the Muesli box.
Not that I would even try. It was similar with the Danes back then.
My Danes, because you now understand that Denmark means part of friends, not the entire population.
This is all just an illustration of how diametrically different we are..
Important?
Not that, never..
Hilarious?
Well, often (not always).
When I first announced that I was going on vacation with old friends, my dear colleagues started telling me a whole series of stories about how it would end. Especially in sailing.
That's possible, but we haven't gotten to that point yet, and this rant has been going on, with one break, since 1997, and it hasn't ended yet. Which doesn't mean it won't. But since we've already experienced so many ups and downs, it might not be so soon.
Now.
That's right.
Some things are not important. Like the one with the pubs. It is much more important to have good company, although maybe it is a potato sometimes cold.
Some things are quite important but you don't even point them out because we are all adapting a little bit. It's not better than it could be.
Some things you just set up and others accept them.
Slovenians go to Florence at 6 in the morning, so that by 11 am we are already at the pool, when the Danes are just waking up and then at 3 pm they are standing in a line to enter Florence in 50 degrees.
How was it?
»We've seen this and this and that, and you know how good that and that is?«
The Danes ate an incredible amount of ice cream, the children were crying and vomiting, but apparently it was also fun.
In short, to each his own..
But Florence is still a long way away. We are currently skiing in Maria-Alm and Bert wants to try out that ski resort where you ride all day and don't repeat the course.
The block of flat where we were was right in front of the ski resort, so we just went across the street. It was too good for everyone else. That's where I got my first pair of carving skis. They weren't sold back home yet. None of my colleagues knew what I was talking about when I boasted about how good they were. I hadn't skied in 15 years, but I was like a professor.
We took Bernt to the other end of the village. There is a slope there, which then jumps over and you can ski many hills and not actually repeat the slope. Not to mention that the most important thing was that there were black runs. But we skied on the purple one. If purple is for children, I don't know the colors of difficulty of skiing, and I don't like to google it.
And so.
Yeah, it was great. It was new, continuing the finished story like this, in a completely new context.
What's new? It's just a sequel.
No, not at all.
U. It was funny..
Probably the first evening, I don't remember, maybe not the first, it was just so new, I asked:
"You must be partying like in the old days?"
Silence?
"No, no.
No.
Not at all.
That party you attended was the last of its kind."
The kind where you don't always know who's celebrating and what when you see half the people for the first time because they're friends of friends and you're all having a great time.
We've calmed down, probably gotten serious, and parties are only in select company. Not every Friday anymore. Only on special occasions and in special places. In short, normal for responsible members of the community.
This last one is a joke, but in my opinion it's not far from the truth. Otherwise I don't know the reason why some of us become more serious, and what. That we don't party for the sake of partying and that the content is more essential.
How do I know?
Yes.
This is a big difference with our parties.
If you find yourself at a similar place, then groups of acquaintances form, who already know each other and probably party with the same people all the time, regardless of the location.
There's less of that. Or if you're a fresh guy like me, it's almost nonexistent.
After the level increases a bit, it's no problem at all:
"How are you, I'm Andrej, what are you doing, do you know Diana, are you from ...."
Then some specifics begin, but more on that elsewhere.
We made a summary.
This was the best thing that could happen to a living person and that we would meet in two years, because every year would be too much, but it has to be at least 14 days, a week is completely too little.
"Moi do."
(as the Swedish-speaking minority says (Finns say: Hei do.))
But what does that mean?
I guess nothing. The closest thing would be hello. But nothing that specific. I guess it was an advertisement for something, I don't remember what, it couldn't have been very important, and it was bilingual, and it caught on with both of them.
Both of them?
Finnish-speaking minority and majority.
I found these people because of Diana.
So I'm riding. ...
Ne.
First I walk to the tram on Bulevardi.
On foot, because it's so cold and windy, not to mention the darkness, it's still dark there during the day and that's really the only movement during the day. I prefer to walk to wake up and it's a great part of the city. A whole part like Miklošičeva. They didn't have Secession, though. They call something similar there Jugend. Like a tired Secession. But all in all, considering the architecture, it's still great.
There the wind always blows from west to east. The only question is how strong. And on winter days, which are only named that. Not winter. It's the same, but day. Hey, it can be as dark as a moonlit night here.
Then on Bulevardi, I take a tram, and somewhere before the road turns into the city onto the bridge, to the first island, where I change to a city bus, which then drops me off on the first island, where I was working at the time.
In front of the bridge is the Alko factory. Hey, there's almost as many as Gorenja. Almost. And it's practically in the city center.
"And why all this?
That's why."
Finns don't talk unless they have to. Since you can say everything with a wave, you'd expect that's why there's so much wind. Well, they import wind from Sweden. They have to say something sometimes. But if they don't have to, they really prefer to be quiet. And when we drive in those morning commutes, we drive in complete silence. In those days, there were no mobile phones, so that everyone would rub their hands, so that a quarter of us would read three quarters and carefully monitor what was happening outside. But it's no different than yesterday or last week, or a month, or a year, or our whole life. Yes, I used to be really worried about where I had come from. But this is not normal. Well, at least it's not healthy.
And that's why it's all the more obvious if someone is looking for "eye contact".
And it's one of those spring days when it's still pretty cold. The ice in the open has already blown away. You can still walk between the islands, but big puddles are already forming. The wind is still cold but it has a smell.
There in front of the factory, a pretty girl, she presses the button in front of the door to get out, and she looks around. Not only outside. Also at the bus. And she sees me and I see her, and then she goes.
Tomorrow was similar. Then it was the weekend, and she wasn't there. And then a couple of times, and you were already nodding. That barely noticeable movement of the head, which, to us more subtle ones, already reveals what you don't know.
Hey, with a pinch of imagination, you can do magic.
And I'm enrolling in a Finnish course.
There.
Yes, the same one.
He sits on a bench and waits for the class to start.
"And?«
I'm going straight to her..
"Isitocupued?"
We were chatting for a while as if we had known each other forever."
And we still do that today.
Diana made sure to give me a lecture on democracy during our first few meetings.
I really liked teasing her about this topic because the Danes had 3 referendums on joining the EU. In short, democracy has been a struggle for so long that no one cares about referendums anymore, and then our people win.
U, was angry. And it wasn't just that.
Now she's calmed down when shit like this happens, but we each remain on our own side when it comes to democracy. There are other areas, but we love each other.
Diana invited me to a party and I met everyone there, and there was Jani.
It's the one with the air microphone. Quite large but not fat. Well, a little bit. But far from problematic.
I guess I was so carry out (rabbiting on) at that first party that he took me for his own. To me, it doesn't seem any different than anywhere else, but when you're having a good time and everything is possible and everything is optimistic and then you vent super, you get excited. Some people get tripped up by that. And there you have it.
When he got the letter for the WFT gathering, he was, besides Diana, the most excited. Mona and Bernt agreed more, but I don't know how much. But the result is good. How good, excellent.
she is a lawyer by birth and a Norwegian by education.
No-true!
She gave up law years ago and started painting. She enrolled in painting studies and is now selling quite well all over the world.
That's relative.
But if I compare it to our valley, it's more than successful.
Everyone is polite and considerate and friendly. But Mona is 10x better.
Now.
It's hard to explain, but when these people carry it, honestly, even a kind and polite person like Mona, it becomes really loud. Nothing against the previous adjectives. Not at all. Just really loud.
»Well, understand if you can.«
The agreement is that each meeting is organized by a different community. I say community because the continuation follows.
Somewhere before the New Year, when greeting cards are being written, the question arises as to whether this and that could be possible... Then there is about three weeks of coordination, but more in terms of wishes than requirements. If it is not specifically indicated, then the organizing community also decides, let's go this way and that way.
The tentative time frame is the last two weeks of July. Preferably before Feragosto to avoid crowds on the way back. But that's more of a theory.
And so we report:
"Huston we have a problem."
?
Jacob is coming.
Wow, that's really cool.
Now.
I don't know if it's fate or if they're really that expeditious. Because the Finnish couple ordered Julia only half a year late. The Danish Sara was born a whole year late.
Therefore, postponement until the next meeting.
Let's get together for the new millennium.
The Finns chose a place in Tuscany, which I would never say is this. But if you look at the map, it is actually a cut-out territory and Tuscany is only connected by the sea. The landowner must have had a reason for considering himself Tuscan. What it was, but it would be necessary to set up more studiously. We did not discover this. But it is also true that after the initial amazement, oh this is all Tuscany, no one looked any further. The important thing is that we meet again, and the rest will be up to you.
The children have already walked well, at least for the most part, if sometimes they fall over, it is still possible today, and not when you are still all rubbery and falling is not a problem.
Well, yes.
Some just cry about everything, while others don't have time for such trifles and just keep runing, regardless of the setbacks. Here too, political views have become very differentiated.
But, it was nice.
We saw a part of Tuscany that few people see, but there's nothing wrong with that. The food and drink is probably great all over Italy.
So one late afternoon we're coming back from exploring, I don't remember what we were watching, and on the way home we're driving across, you know, Tuscan fields, with the setting sun and everything that goes with absolute kitsch, and on one hill we see a small village.
"Let's stop here, there must be some nice restaurant."
It was.
Even the waitress spoke English.
"Si, si, but it is good."
Let's order. It turns out that everything isn't going so well for her, except,
"si, si, but it is good,"
we point to the next table,
like, we would like that too,
"si, si, but it is good,"
In short, we get the best food possible, you can't even imagine, everything was good then, but what if we ordered for 28 people.
"Si, si, but it is good,"
It's a treat for everyone, except for the kids who got a little confused and stopped eating, you know, on an evening like this, when you don't even know what kind of ice cream it is, you don't even expect anything else, but everyone got, let's say you could say it if you knew Italian, a count's feast for 4 people, times 6 pieces.
"Si, si, but it was good."
They chose the Danes, not knowing what awaited them.
Now. That's it.
It's not just the center. And the settlement itself. Who knows. Maybe once upon a time, there was a charming village among plum trees, but what was supposed to grow there? If anything.
This is the present-day sleeping area of the town of Le Luc, which lies along the highway between the Côte d'Azur and Aix (Aix (en Provence)).
If I also locate the Verdon (Parc Naturel Régional du Verdon), then they (the Azur, Ex and Verdon) form a rather large triangle of emptiness.
But it is not emptiness. Most of the triangle is called Var and is exactly the part that is shown when there is a fire in Provence.
So it is not empty if it is burning. It also grows back quite quickly. These are dry like pepper pine forests. You almost do not find tourists, except for us lost ones, from the pre-Garmin days, looking for a toilet (you can't go behind a bush, who knows what animals are there), or a pump, or a shop, or something else.
Constantly something.
I have to admit that this part is especially close to my heart, precisely because of the above-mentioned features. Except for the fire, of course. But we were lucky, it was hot as a dog, although I don't know that dogs are any hotter than some nice French women, but that's what they say and I keep going and the fire season doesn't start until August.
There you go. It's clear why we don't go on vacation in August.
Now.
If you're a bit of an architect, and a bit of a fiu-fiu, which has never been a problem for me, and you like Kurbi (Charles-Édouard Jeanneret, known as Le Corbusier) and not in a way that's like, let's just say it's overkill, but where the hell did he get such ideas, then the place in question is particularly interesting because a little further on there is a church (Abbaye du Thoronet) which Kurbi specifically highlighted as giving him inspiration (which is the same thing in its own way).
And here we are, standing in the shower, on a scorching hot day, regardless of the dogs and all the French women, and this in front of the gas station, in front of the Abitam (abbaye).
They had the garden watering set up so that we, the few tourists, could take a shower there, because it was, oh, it was hot.
But again. It's that dry heat, and there's a bit of a wind up there, because it's next to a vague hill, so it's not that big of a problem, unless you have some physical intentions.
Or sit on a chair in the inn. That's okay, but you have to stand under the umbrella for a few minutes first to let the chair cool down.
Yeah, yeah, cool down.
"Yeah. That's what they say."
It's not as hot as it used to be. You show your teeth a little and sit down very slowly.
The house was actually remodeled from an older one, but it was remodeled by the Danes and as such, in terms of design, it was by far the best of any in our fruitful history.
The kitchen was supposedly 10 times too small, but that's only for the spoiled. You know that no one came here because of hunger.
On the contrary. The food and drink were always good, better, excellent. But that's another story.
Anyway, we were home a little. Back then, in the early days, we loved each other and visited a different place every other day. Every first day, a little around Toronetlna, from which you can easily conclude that we were home a little, but almost nothing.
And yet.
Then one fine morning, like every day, we are woken up by the chirping of crickets.
"Oh, yes."
First, at such hours I'm usually alone at the pool, because there are no people who would get up at 6am without wringing their hands.
Secondly, there was an incredible noise in nature.
But again, not that wind that tore off Van Gogh's ears.
That one was the last two days. It's not possible to fly kites anymore, so
it changes direction.
No.
There was this huge grader.
I don't know if it's a grader, an excavator, a bulldozer, or something worse. I mentioned the first one just for the dramaturgy of the word. The name alone lets you know that nothing good will come of it. In reality, it should be called a rodent if it gnaws at the canals. Because a grader doesn't watch the canals.
But if a grader really roars like that, then google it.
It doesn't matter.
He was digging a thing down our street, pretty much like a tractor, but he had such a huge flexcar on his back, with which he dug a meter deep, into the Herzegovinian karst. It's not Herzegovinian, but it is karst, there are sinkholes and caves, and I'm not sure about the swamps.
Anyway. If you dig a meter deep ditch down the entire street to lay a cable, the ground will still smoke. And if there's rock, and maybe limestone, it will burn even more, and that woke us up.
As I said, not for me, because it's my time anyway, but for the Danes, who normally sleep until 11am if they have to get up in the middle of the night. If not, even longer.
You see, Dijana. This otherwise quite friendly creature showed her sharpest legal side and immediately demanded the head of the travel agency in Copenhagen, and within half an hour she was reassured that we would only pay half the price.
But lawyers are sometimes really useful.
The grader drove to the next street the next day, but we were already at some location anyway.
»All in all, happy end.«
Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.
A fourth Dane, Sebastian, joined us.
Then we Slovenians wanted to show what a real vacation is and I started searching.
And I searched. Searched. And searched. And searched some more. And, well, I'm not going to waste any time.
»Now, that's right.«
Of course, as much space as you want. But what kind?
Here are some criteria.
Location is still quite important, but not at all decisive. In Slovenia, this is not even a problem because everything is so small. In Tuscany and Provence, it is very important, if not the only one.
»That is also true.«
Of course, for Slovenians, it's a long way if it's 50 m to the beach. But for Finns, it's not. Even 500 m is no problem. Even more, 5 km is no problem.
Last time we met near Makarska, the Danes wanted to jump to Rome and Istanbul. It's really close. And they came through Budapest anyway.
Well. Everything is relative. There's no need for time distance at all.
Okay. A little bit.
Then Very important.
There must be a swimming pool next to the house. Even if it's a rubber one. Because Danes don't swim in the sea anymore. There are all kinds of animals in the sea, not to mention those monsters from the deep, and Jaws, which is flying right after you anyway.
Decisive.
We have to be alone in the house. And far from the owners. It's not like the owners live on the ground floor, or in the neighboring building. At least at the other end of the settlement. Even better, somewhere else entirely.
And that wasn't the case in our valley at that time. I tried for a long time. We even drove to Posočje, Logarska, Primorje.
You could rent a house for 50 people above Tržič. Where you could also sleep.
In Kozje, the guy had an apartment block for 30 people and an associated party place.
In short, the biggest crisis.
So yes.
The Danes were in Jakob's room, the Finns in ours, and the Slovenians in the living room.
It was one of those rare summers when it rains constantly. So I can't remember a day without rain.
The second week, we went to a hotel in Moravce. It rained less there, but it still did rain.
Look, sometimes it happens like that.
Back then it wasn't a problem at all. Even the Scandinavians said it was the same as back home, only the rain was warm. They don't know that up there.
The children were almost independent.
"Yes, certainly."
Sebastian had already stuck his finger in the toilet door before Salzburg, where a local woman had just come in. Of course, she opened his skin. She probably even told him that something was wrong with the women's toilet.
Now.
The problem was that although the Danes are insured and everything is on the health card, it has to be entered into a computer, which no doctor in our valley knew at the time and they just ignored it. At that time, we were already in rotten capitalism, but it was not yet possible to charge for health services anyway.
What bill?
It was even worse in Moravci. That doctor hadn't even had a sick patient in front of him yet and was still looking at his books while he was changing his bandages.
To top it all off, Julija fell off a tree and twisted her arm. Quite strange, but Sara, who is somehow normal for things to go wrong, was not involved in this field at all at the time. Which is not to say that she didn't want to be constantly involved with her.
In Ptuj, children were allowed to spit.
?
When a Scandinavian spits, he says "ptuj".
My colleague took the children to Brnik airport to wait for their father, and they were able to talk about the runway* during that time.
runway*
Pista, childish for women's reproductive organ.
In Jerusalem, they didn't believe that the painting on the altar was from Jerusalem. But Jani seriously asked about the prices of vineyards. In those days, it was still mission impossible. I predicted that history would end before Prlek sold the vineyard. He would have his wife, but never the vineyard, he would rather die.
Then, over time, I heard that even that was changing.
The Finns chose it. That's actually the name of the house we were in, because it has a kidney-shaped pool, or whatever organ it is, and there's a bridge somewhere in the middle, perfect for jumping headfirst, and the place sounds a bit like Pozzo della Chiana, if anyone's interested.
That's a little south of Arezzo, one exit before the Montepulciano exit.
You don't know what this is?
I don't either, but since we have Bernt, it becomes clear to you what's important and what's not.
He's not the only one who decides, he's not the only one who decides. If you want to know, Diana, Mona and Nives decide.
Now.
The order can also be changed, depending on the proximity of relatives and the suggestion of what you could go see.
Ok.
If Bernt suggests, then there's Sara and Sebastjan. The latter is the least, as long as he has a computer, but everything else is the same to him. Except in extraordinary cases, such as wars and floods and earthquakes. But since there aren't any, when you have to get up, you have to. So what happens is that the Danes are waiting to get up, but that's why we Slovenians have set up so solo, because when they get up, we're already back.
Our young lady said Arezzo was boring, but I've seen it myself when we were sketching around here with the university and I didn't mind either.
U.
We played soccer in Siena at 2am, with the locals, in the main square. But since the ball kept getting stuck on balconies, we kept going. One of them brought a sign from Pisa, no parking. In Florence, I almost didn't get it, because I had already tried 50 ice creams, not that many, but 40 for sure, let's say 30 for sure and I would have ended it right there if Alenka hadn't saved me and dragged me to the hotel. Then she left so that no one would think anything of it.
Supposedly, Michelangelo walked from Arezzo to Florence in one night. But it didn't seem very close to me, and that was by car.
It was funny, we were in a line at the toll station in Brezovica and in front of us was a truck, a refrigerator from Arezzo. It was probably half as fast home. We also stop on the highway for at least 2 hours, and sometimes more, there's always something going on.
There were a few million Americans in Cortona because there were almost a million jewelry stores.
Then we had to drive all day to get to Montalcino. Bernt said they had the best wine. Maybe it was true, but it was hidden somewhere because there was nothing to see except impossibly expensive taverns.
I prefer wine without appellation of origin, as long as it's called Cianti, and it's really cheap, and good enough for you ....
Good and done.
On the way back, the air conditioner died and we had the windows open. I don't know if it wasn't hotter with them open.
In Scandinavia, it's common to go swimming every week. Yes, in an indoor pool. It's only outside for a month, unless it snows.
In short, these children are 500x more likely to be in the water than ours.
But here.
Here he saw his father doing some mischief and apparently he started it himself the other day.
I wouldn't even mention it, but our little one taught aquatic animals to jump on their heads.
>
If anything, that was funny.
"And what else?"
U, then it was good.
This house is being rented out by a Finn. And not only this one, there are 10 more in the village. I don't know the number, but we saw a few, and he said so himself.
And he has a really warm relationship with the villagers.
And.
And they had a village celebration at the end of the harvest.
That was super-fine.
Some of them were really beautiful. Some of them still had a little straw in their hair.
Then there was a speech that I didn't understand at all, but it was definitely important, because the mayor also pointed to the tourist (cari tourists), and half of them applauded, including me.
Otherwise, it was just a normal village celebration, with the difference that almost everyone was laughing, except for Sebastian.
The Danes found it.
This is a settlement between Marseille and Kamarqué.
Now.
I don't remember if it was here or in Tuscany, but it doesn't really matter.
Let me start at the beginning.
Apparently, we didn't have such problems the first time. and then they just got worse.
That's how it goes.
Jani more or less always circled the pool to get a signal from work, because that was always important. Regardless of the reactions. Mona mostly hissed, but since Scandinavians, even when they're angry, remain very friendly, I didn't even notice that there was a problem. The children didn't have such problems when they were little. Well, over the years they did, but that summer was probably the last with an unburdened childhood.
»I would like to see
An unburdened childhood?
What is this now?
Well, that's what they say.«
It turns out that not finding the right Lego brick to complete a masterpiece is as big a problem as not getting a signal to contact work.
As technology developed, so did the children grow, and so did my male friends climb the ladder of importance in their jobs. As a result, the signal became crucial.
And so Jani, after some lap around the pool, this usually happened around 11am when the Danes were just starting to get up, but at HKI it was noon, finished the conversation, a little more sweaty than usual, Finns get hot quickly, and it was quite pronounced that day. He even got a little snorted, I guess from the content of the meeting, not because of the heat of the moment. He usually joined us in a pleasant waking up, like anyone else, some of us were already a little tired from the 6am drive and then we waited for new experiences.
Then he strode off to his rooms, put on a white shirt and tie, yes, trousers too, but that's logical, Mona was completely silent and said he was going to a meeting at the HKI. That they couldn't do without him and that he would come tomorrow at a similar time.
And he drives away.
That's what it's like in some countries.
Supposedly, Bernt's boss went on vacation for the first time in 10 years and the first time they landed in Tenerife he called to see if there was anything new?
Some are really strange.
Over the years, Jani stopped climbing up in importance, because in rotten capitalism, you can't climb up all the time. Because it runs out.
Isn't it strange? How does it run out?
Nice and the only logical thing to do.
Yeah, what then?
Then he leaves the company, goes somewhere else where he can still do it, but it means more or less from the beginning. Well, he doesn't have to make coffee at the beginning, they probably just skip that, but the hype is already there.
Show what you can do, and we'll see.
Or he goes his own way, which isn't that easy at all, because the market can handle a certain number and they don't let a new player near. It must be something really extraordinary.
Or he becomes a co-owner.
Which doesn't mean he'll work any less, it'll just be noticeable in his wallet, and even then mostly upon retirement, when he sells his share to his successor. Most of the profits are invested in science and development, and Jani has already attended a number of courses and colonies, to be cool and as friendly as possible to his subordinates.
Well, aren't these capitalists strange?
The kids were cute, more or less. Except for Nintendo, but ours didn't know what that was, so he teased the others for chasing, squirting, tickling and general fun, mostly Huron-style, in and around the pool.
At that time he was practicing rap dancing and we organized a disco night. I say it like that because I don't know what they call it these days when the music is way too loud and then you jump around so hard you can barely catch your breath and talk like a ful-kul. We used to call it disco.
"Sorry if I don't understand anything."
They convinced me that Marseille was nothing, which I still regret to this day. I'm not saying it's not like Paris, but it's only one block from the Kurbusier, which I was planning to see.
Bernta said that Monte Carlo was too far because he and Sebastjan wanted to do a live racing game around the city.
Well, you can't do everything.
It was our choice, but the Danes found it.
That was it.
As usual, I sit and click.
No.
I don't remember, but in the summer we went to Hvar where we were supposed to find a house with a swimming pool without an owner in it.
Mission impossible.
Then I narrowed down the selection and there was nothing on this topic in our valley either.
I had already visited the campsite in Tenta, but without a house and a swimming pool.
And I'm a little worried about the times, the political situation, and sometimes everything was better, when we were young, and stuff like that, you know.
In 5 minutes there is a link from Kobengavn, one just right, near Buzet.
And we booked a house in Istria, via Denmark, it's being rented out by the English, but it was built by the Germans. They don't even offer it locally, only to real capitalists, which we still aren't, so maybe we were puffing up about it, but we didn't get more than a little bit of a cosa-nostra. Well, let's leave it at that, but it's easier for me now that I understand.
Really great house. Same as in Tuscany, only green, not burnt brown. I understood everything in the shop, and it's still so far from the sea, it's really cheap. The Croatian brothers subsidize the interior so that the last locals don't go to the coast.
We also had rain, but apparently it was also in Tuscany that summer. Sometimes it happens like that.
Scandinavian children were all constantly on their phones, so I couldn't argue with ours that they were constantly on the computer.
Not to mention that the first reactions to the topic of not trying to take pictures have begun, some have become very embarrassed, but perhaps they have never had such problems before. On the contrary, who will be more comfortable in front of the camera?
Otherwise, moments of inattention have crept in and small groups have formed occasionally in squirting and sometimes they even forgot that puberty enters with big steps. Currently still on short legs, so the steps are not long yet, but it has begun. A long nose, and looking ugly, and being quiet, and it all doesn't matter at all.
At least until the attack with water pistols.
Bernt said that he really set fire to my story when they accused me of separatism. For the northerners, this is the greatest proof of what absolute totalitarianism we lived in. But we don't see anything special at all.
And that's why in the next story, which for the northerners is just business.
He said that he was sent to Zagreb Airport in the UNPROFOR zone, so he didn't even need a passport because he was in international waters, so he supposedly couldn't get on bail.
There he is like an insurance agent, I don't know what it's called, but when something serves its purpose, not that it's useless, but the expiration date has expired and I don't know how many 100 and 100 excavators, forklifts, trucks, tractors, pushers, and whatnot, were written off and should have been destroyed, but even before the export took place, namely the export from international territories to the other side of the fence, smugglers appeared, and apparently most of the machines had already been sold, international intermediaries. Bernt drew the line under the bill and it's not his problem what happens while crossing the border, even if it's just a wire mesh at the same airport.
Diana also suggested that maybe everything is not as fairy-tale-like as she had made it out to be a few years ago. We always had heated debates about democracy and I always countered her and she always looked at me with pity, because it was our own fault if we voted for such people.
But apparently in Denmark there was also a decline in the Social Democrats and the National Front got 12 percent.
Bernt already had 5 colleagues under his command, covering Southeast Europe, which is an odd place. Which is not a problem. The problem, if there is one, is that bosses run marathons. He had run before, but apparently that year was the first time he ran 42 km.
And that's why he also trained in Sovinjak. Otherwise, nothing unusual, except that no one runs there at the top of the hill unless the police are chasing you, and you can imagine how they were looking at him.
And when we go shopping in Buzet one day, we divided it up so that each time one family went out and somewhere in the middle of the back, when the hill starts to slowly descend towards Buzet, we get caught in a storm. And it's right on the ground. It was flying from all sides and it was hail. Such small hail.
Ok, in the car it's not really a problem, because it takes three turns, and on the fourth the sun is already shining, but what if we got hit by lightning somewhere on the first one. Well, it wasn't us, but it felt strange, like it hit right in front of the hood. Except that we all had our hair on end, but more out of fear, it wasn't anything major.
Except.
We pass a marathon runner in a green reflective jacket, the same as the road workers wear, although they wear orange, but the color is so bright that it glows even in the dark. But when lightning flashes behind the hood, it's like a neon light, or worse, a flash.
»Oh, I saw this fool. And in that. He was completely out of his mind.«
We robbed the store in peace, half of it, when Scandinavians go shopping, half of it is visible. The rear wheels are a little sideways, that's how we were loaded, and we climb to the top of the hill.
We distribute the ordered and in between we explain what kind of hail it was and that we almost missed a lightning bolt and that there was a crazy guy flying by.
"Yes, that was me."
Bernt says.
He doesn't know such a storm, let alone lightning between his legs. Apparently, that's exactly what it felt like. Apparently, he didn't stop, but he was sure that he was running in the other side.
»Was there anything else?«
Oh, full of things. But what's that?
I would put it under interesting.
For me, Istria was a space between the mainland and the sea, which had to be crossed as soon as possible. Now, as we drove up and down the area, I saw that not only is it green Tuscany, but it also reminds me very much of it, and from the point of view of untouched nature, it is also a real super place. Not on a hot summer day, anyway. Hey, the little animal can climb on you as it pleases. But on a late autumn or early spring day, it is a pearl of nature.
Yeah, there's still something to see there.
I could probably just go there and not fully get to know her.
Then, the Scandinavians found it strange that there was a monument to the partisans in the middle of the village.
Didn't we remove all the dictatorial symbols?
Marica's had the best gnocchi in the world, but they preferred to eat
truffles, which are not good at all. At least not that good. But how can you brag in Copenhagen that you ate gnocchi with goulash.
Who knows what that is?
Nobody.
We picked up Jakob at Nadiža. The Bistrica Goat Scouts were having a camp. Cute, friendly, cuddly, they surrounded us when we stopped under a bushy spruce. They were showing us cones, happy that there was so much interesting in nature.
The guides and especially the female guides, Urša just looked over her shoulder, were really cool, literally.
"So miserable.
Well, never mind.
And so."
Ma sej veš, ko dobiš že tretji mozolj, pol je res podn, al kako se to dan današnji reče.
Ours slowly crawled out of the tent, disheveled, wrinkled, and slowly walked towards the car, dragging his sleeping bag and 100 other things behind him.
He's a tough guy. More the former than the latter.
Immediately after Padua, he thawed, that is, he had ice cream in his hand and with it, a good mood is the best, write that down for yourself. So, we turned around in a rather good mood over the Dardanelles. Well, they weren't, but I can't remember now, such a famous mountain range. Neither were the Tatras. Something about ......., I'll write when I remember. This has been happening to me lately.
Oh-yeah. Ardens.
More hills, not too high, but still quite steep. You can read the speed limit there. If it says 60 and you're driving 70, you have to slow down a bit, unlike our valley, where they exaggerate by about 3x.
It was already quite hot by the time we got past Florence, and the crowds were crazy. I don't know what crazy is, but I do know that we didn't even get to where we were planning to turn towards Siena, so I happily sped past, along the almost empty road, convinced that there must be a diagonal somewhere. Any normal person doesn't mess it up, so let's see if he ever was, because he was normal in the recent history of the Italian Republic.
»Now.
That may be so.«
Of course it's longer, there's no debate about that. But it's also cute.
Is it nice to stand for a couple of hours, because it's supposedly faster, but it feels like it's too early to get to Siena, then around the hill and back down the parallel valley, about a third of the way. It's only a fifth, but it feels like half.
Not to mention that the diagonal is still interesting.
Not many have seen Chianti from this side.
So I left the sunny highway (via del sol) at the first exit, where there was almost no traffic. I really don't know what people gain from going straight to Siena.
Verjetno pri Figline Valdarno, al pa enega naprej, a nisem siguren. Pol je bilo pa absolutno romantično.
Such cute little hills, still quite green from this side. Such oak forests. But what if these oaks are more like bushes. And if you touch a leaf, it's pure oak. Not while driving, we stopped to pee. And then you're still picking up the leaves.
Hey, every donkey has its own joys.
Then the forest became increasingly thinned towards the south and was replaced by vines. It seems that the vine is extremely aggressive and is displacing indigenous plants. And foreign-born ones. You could say invasive, in today's terms. And in Roman times, vino veritas.
Then it dragged a little, because the romance was up and down, but there were a million bends, and then another three in between. The road there, at the crossings from one valley to another, is also quite narrow and if trucks were driving here, it would definitely be in a ditch, but it seems that all the wine is already transported down in bottles and only at Siena do the tankers start. But there are as many trucks as you want there. You can't believe how much traffic there is, and the hills are like that. It's like they enjoy driving around.
Ok.
We stuck the house in from the back. It's not an odd house. This is a former farm. And by our standards, it's huge. Today it's divided into parcels and has at least three owners, but we didn't bother with that, our third was more than enough.
In short, Patricija, the owner from Rome, prepared a table for us on the first evening with all the decorations that real Italians have.
Not to mention Italian women.
She's otherwise very friendly, a prima donna in her early years, but that doesn't bother the lady. She was well-groomed, what can I say?
Classy.
Gold chains everywhere. Except on a black dress, but many things were forcing their way out of her. At first glance, she reminded me of Felinita.
»Hi get the idea here?«
No. She wasn't an extremist at all. But not by a long shot. Above all, she insisted that Silvio was the only real one in the history of the republic.
A very noble gentleman visited her on weekends, and they probably had magical moments, I'm just assuming, but I haven't become that familiar, although she showed me her nest.
Well, it's not exactly a nest, but a huge nest. Because.
The part she didn't rent out was the 3-story tower. It was actually a two-story square barn, but it had so many floors that there was no way she could have made it 4 floors. She proudly showed off the furnishings, apparently she decorated them herself, and it was something to see. It's modern minimalism, but Italians understand it completely differently. Instead of 300 baroque things, there were only 30. But I praised her.
That's really great.
In the neighboring building, she had Albanians who took care of the operation. One of them even knew some English. He worked in a nearby Chianti winery and could make, quite cheaply, this most expensive wine.
But what if Bernt isn't in Chianti? It has to be at least Montepulciano.
Oh, that was funny.
It happened to be Sunday. We Slovenians were in line to buy groceries, but we returned when everything was already closed.
The neighboring village, where we shopped, is a bit boring. It's a dormitory for Siena. There used to be a few houses, but they've been covered in concrete.
V lekarni, ki je prodajala tudi nekaj sadja in kruh so imeli zaprto. Delal je samo še kiosk. Tak s tremi stoli in misco, sicer pa za cigarete in časopise. Verjetno si dobil še kauco in pir, če si imel denar.
If I had come in the morning, there would probably still be tomatoes, but now there were only rotten remains.
We bought crackers and chips. Alpine milk and eggs. And I think all the wine. So dusty, but it wasn't archival. It had probably been there since the opening many years ago.
The bill was still there. But you don't even complain, since it's Sunday evening.
But when we offered him the cold cuts, Bernt was out of breath. He just stuttered.
Where did we get the best wine in the world, at least from this part of the world, where else is there any other wine that is better? But it must have been so expensive. Nives still had the bill in her wallet, and then it took his breath away.
What if it had to be 100x more expensive?
It was expensive. This one was 8€ and the rest were 3€ (2 and change). The world of collectors of sinfully expensive wines collapsed on him.
Then he found the same price for American tourists in Montepulciano and was comforted that it was just a mistake, the bottles there were still a couple of €100 each.
Just make him happy, as I usually say.
The children were old enough to have the main say. What's the main thing, where will it be or not? So the only thing.
»Now.
Like any other.«
On one side, ours, who at that time did not dare to object directly, but was adapting with great strides. On the other end, the Danes. If Sara says h. Diana jumps up and orders Bernt to do three things in a row, and that he should apologize to us because they have to do this and that now and that it is urgent and there is no other way and that it is the biggest crisis and ...
Well, I'm exaggerating a little. But not much either.
Hey, our bumblebee is the best kid in the world, even though he drives me completely crazy sometimes.
Maybe I would be a little or not at all if I weighed constantly like...
I wasn't even allowed to chat with some of them anymore, because apparently these are very sensitive years and they don't understand everything as easily as I do, and I don't know anything about raising children.
Bernt already had a department with 50 employees under his command, now for the whole of Europe. Yes, he works for an American company and lost a lot of employees in the twins.
Jani could have progressed more and is now one of the three owners and therefore attended camps for Zen management of the company. Not only is it cool and everything runs smoothly, it must also have a vision. And not just any one, but how will the employees feel even better at work, because only happy employees are happy to participate in progress.
Sounds a bit like SZSL*, doesn't it?
SZSL**
Socialist Union of Slovene Labor.
Only happy worker like to work!
Mona finished her painting education and had her first solo exhibition. We didn't take her seriously at the time. She has to do something if Man is at work day and night, and there's a New Year's party at his company.
But for Christmas, everyone has to go to their parents'.
Diana had a treatise that not everything is a fairy tale even in Denmark. She was preparing to change jobs.
That took a while.
She finally got the courage.
We saw everything there is to see in Tuscany. I'm more of a fan of old town centers, but sometimes you have to adapt and go to a museum. Ok. It's not bad at all.
Ufici always impresses me.
As I said before, we had textbooks in middle school with the same size black and white reproductions. And then the original is truly fascinating.
No, not all of them. But some of them are super-fine.
We even looked at Assisi, Mona claimed that the paintings were superfine.
Now.
I've already said it. Me and baroque don't go together. Okay. With music, yes, architecture rarely, and furnishings almost never. Not to mention religious paintings. Hey, I'd rather go for ice cream.
With the Renaissance, it's the opposite. Nothing at all. Almost everything. Not in the sense that if it's from that time, it's cool. Not at all. But in principle, almost everything.
Ej, Marbela.
A couple of things need to be said here.
The comment will be at the end. But it started..., as usual.
Well, yes.
This is not normal for me.
Okay. Never mind.
Following the old custom, I would write that it was found, chosen, and determined by the Finns.
No, no. That's weird.
The Finns bought it.
What???
Hey, I watched it myself.
But, apparently it was quite cheap and just got installed.
That's it.
Jani, he is employed, he is a boss, he is a co-owner of a law firm
Now.
This is not just any company at all.
So he calls me one evening, still up there in the dark and cold, not to mention icy, Helsinki, and starts saying something to me in Russian.
Ok.
But I don't know Russian. And neither does Jani. And it turns out that it's Slovenian, but when read by a Finn it sounds like Russian.
I had to sit there in his company from half past two in the morning. At that time, he wasn't even the boss, he was just a promising young colleague who knew an engineer who spoke a strange language from the Government of the Republic of Slovenia.
I won't go into details, lest I reveal some strategic details in the history of the young country's development. The fact that they employ a company from Helsinki says a lot. But the fact that they send them a letter in Slovenian says it all. Forgive me, southerners, but, once a Balkan, always a Balkan.
Let's leave it at that, and I just wanted to illustrate that there is not one obscure company.
And this company was also hired by a Spanish tycoon, who was really struggling. He couldn't pay in cash, but he gave the house away.
And they invite us into this house.
Actually, next door, because it's not really that big.
Look, it's not small either. But it is, what can I say, if you know anything about functionalism, there wasn't half of it here at all. In short, a crazy amount of square footage of hallways and vestibules and terraces and corridors. Grandiose, but not enough space for three families.
These families have since transformed into families where girls can't sleep with boys. Not even girls together. Everyone has to have their own room.
Okay. Never mind.
We could squeeze in a little. It's not necessary to squeeze in a little, one of us would sleep in the living room. But that's not possible.
Never mind.
The neighboring house is attached to it and we served dinner past the fence, between the terraces.
We had a really huge kitchen.
There. I really don't know what the baron was thinking, I don't think he was thinking anything when he let such a foolish thing happen to him.
The Finns imagined that they would rent it in the summer, but it was a fluke.
Marbella is one long, monstrous macaroni. And we know that macaroni are very narrow when they are wide. And that's exactly where they bought the house. 11 km from the coast.
Now.
Considering that the vast majority of Scandinavians vacation there, this shouldn't even be a problem.
But what if this was the most corrupt area in Spain and the concentration of barons was high and when the crisis started, all that was left was houses like ours, that is Finish, and they gave them away very cheaply, if only because they wanted them. But instead of cash, when you have to pay a lawyer.
You see, I wanted to comment only at the end, but it just happened. I'll just continue and describe our stay only at the end.
Ok.
Not that there was the most corruption, they curbed that in the meantime, now, either they did it, or it was a crisis and the bubbles burst to make the peace even more complete, there was and still is, and I guess there will be for some time to come, the most criminals per km2.
»What???«
Not so much crime, more criminals, although that is also changing.
"Well, say something if you can!"
Ok.
Marbella is one of a series of settlements on the coast called Costa del Sol. Somewhere in the middle of it.
If you go a little into the city, you can go about an hour to Malaga. On the other side, to Gibraltar, it is further away, but you can see it from our terrace. On clear days, even Morocco.
The first to settle here, not counting the Berbers, who were later grilled by the Inquisition, were the English.
Now.
There are all sorts of variations on this, but I think it was the Yacht Club first.
Others say that it used to be the Jet-set Club de Marbella.
This will never be a known truth. No matter who you ask.
As long as they only went out for drinks, there were certainly more movie stars.
But when the Scandinavians struck, they started buying wherever they could buy something, preferably on the coast, and that's how it started.
In the beginning, the English bought up everything along the coast. Well, almost. Because in those days, somewhere in the 50s, there were independent settlements along the coast. When the Scandinavians started buying, it slowly filled up. Next came the Arabs and Russians. Then it was just right for bubbles. And they started building away from the coast, eventually even 11 km from the coast. Today, 10 km from the coast is a whole strip of empty, unfinished, just-begun settlements, not individual houses. And in between, as before, closer to the coast, there are golf courses.
Hey, I've never seen as many golf courses as here, I've never really dealt with such things, I couldn't even imagine them.
That's like this.
Yes, there are some films that show such a scene, but I always thought it was just a bad interpretation of Fellini, but in a different area. And to establish the ghostly nature of the film, so that Schwarzenegger comes in better, and everything is in order and there is a happy ending, even though they don't show that the ghostly ends and settlements and cities and landscapes have also disappeared and everything is still fine and beautiful and we all love each other, and Schwarzenegger drives the rescued beauty into the sunset anyway in a convertible, otherwise nicely wrecked because he smashed everything with it.
Yes, certainly.
You can see Venice from up here*.
.*
Childish for unimaginable
In short. I've never bothered with decadence, much less American decadence, and all those endless settlements with golf courses are just a picture of austerity on a theoretical level. The fact that some people even live like that never appealed to me, because all the Americans I've met are from really cool places, which would make me want to go there someday if it weren't so far away.
Here.
But here it really was. The world fame was already fading, but it was still far from fleeting, because we drove past Vladimir's villa every day, to the store. What a villa. It's like a small quarter. Even the sheikhs have their own quarters. Apparently the harbor is too shallow, and that's why they park in front of the town when they stop in front of their weekend house for those three days a year. The size of Trnovo*. But not quite smaller.
In short, the thing still works, it's just not the only one anymore.
Trnovo*
Part of Ljubljana
Apparently, from the very beginning, or maybe because of them, all the criminals in the world settled here. They went here on vacation and there wasn't much shit because half the place was bodyguards and the other half was waiters. Okay, because he also washed dishes, but in my opinion he was just undercover and just lurking around.
It doesn't matter, it seems that this is changing drastically. It was the summer before our visit, everything was different, because they shot so many of them, in so many cases, and in so many locations. Because it's no longer like in the old days, when they shot someone they were planning to shoot, but now they shot half the place, and in the last case, everything at the hairdresser's. And because there is no hairdresser with one chair and one razor, but this is an art on a grand scale, there were as many victims as there were.
Luckily I only found out about all this on the way back because I didn't realize where the hell we were going on vacation. I never imagined anything like this and there are quite a few videos on YouTube about how cute it used to be but now everything is changing because ...
»Jeeeezusss, do you see this? Do you think the Finns know?
You know they know. I guess everyone knows that, but we don't, because we don't mess with people like that.«
I thought it was so funny, we once spent the night in a camp above Monaco, on the pass, between home and Marseille, and there were a lot of dressed-up people there. You can't believe how. They sleep in tents. And what cars, and dresses, and necklaces. They all dress up in the evening and drive to Monaco or Nice, then stand in a column for hours, across the waterfront, and can be right next to the fabulously rich on moored yachts. Probably mostly sailors, but it doesn't matter, as if I were the boss at home.
Hey, if the people aren't fiu-fiu.
And then we park our car at the Trieste airport for 14 days. It's not a fancy center, but that's what they say, and I'm still towing it myself.
The house is still quite big, they probably had a vision and it's soooo big. Now, at least when we were there, there was exactly one counter working. For us. For whom?
The plane to Rome was almost empty. A couple of Africans and the 3 of us. That's why it was all the greater contrast. When you come from a village, sleepy airport, where everything is real, but you only think about yourself, to an airport with connections to the whole world.
Ej.
Anthill. I've only experienced something like that in Amsterdam. Even DeGaule isn't that crowded.
After transferring to the plane to Malaga, the vastness of the airport became apparent. We spent so long looking for the runway that I asked a couple of times if we would just get to Malaga on the ground. I'll tell you forever, and then a little more, because after they let you into the queue for the runway, half of it isn't even here, but it will be, but we're just waiting. What?
God knows what or who.
I remember in Belgrade we were also waiting in front of the runway, the engines already at high revs, and he had it manually tightened. After, I don't know how much, but definitely more than half an hour, maybe 20 minutes, and 10 minutes, they brought a fat gentleman, who then slowly climbed up, as is customary for such athletes.
Flight as flight. 3 hours more or less of boredom. So much so that you can't read, completely not enough stewardesses to make it interesting.
Than.
Then it was pretty funny.
Malaga is on the coast, as many people know. But not everyone knows that it has the Sierra Nevada behind it. The highest peak is almost 3500 m above sea level. Nevada is just around the corner, but even the mountain above Malaga is not much lower and when we were descending towards the airport it was sooooooooooooo long it looked like we were going to land at any moment because we were driving at the same angle as the slopes of the Sierra.
Now.
That wouldn't be a problem, it's even nice to see, because you're quite low and there's something to see. The problem is that there's a constant headwind from the sea and at times it was like a hurricane. Not a hurricane, but you think about it, and it carried us, up and down all around. And that's literally. He had to step on the gas a couple of times, because it was hitting us too hard against the ground, or in the air and it looked a bit like a roller coaster. At least that's how I imagine it, because I didn't try it. We didn't do the loop, but almost everything else. So there was even a touch down after one and a half laps and three more times because we were a bit repelled.
»Yes, nothing for experts.
What about me, who am spoiled?«
At the airport, which is where it is, but it only showed up on the way back, a small Opel was waiting for us. There was still some space in the front, but in the back Jakob was crammed like in a cartoon. But he didn't complain. It was an experience for him too.
On the way out of town, a crowd like in the movies when they evacuate the city before a space attack.
Then on the highway that climbs above the settlements, quite up a hill and you have to pay for it, it's almost empty. Just us and the Dutch.
We only used the lower road, which is a 6-lane road, once, in one direction. Well, I won't do it again. 6 columns of cars standing, honking their horns.
Where it is still possible to build, because soon after the highway the hill begins, as I said in some places very high, full of unfinished hotels, settlements, golf courses. Which are not yet at this stage, but they have already planned the blows. Some even on the lower side of the highway, but there are still quite rare and if we drive on an almost empty highway, then,
pol,
Then, all at once, 4 columns honking their horns, two towards Gibraltar, 2 towards Malaga.
Well, understand if you can.
There is so little space between the sea and the hill, and what there is, it is built up by sheikhs and Russians, and they simply cannot build a bypass there. So, nothing for me, nothing for you, they usurped the highway and this part is not paid for, half of it is paid for, and then you have to pay again.
We never did this maneuver, we used the lower road, if there was anything to do in the direction of Gibraltar. We did it by accident, I missed the exit and drove into, you won't believe it, but the SUVs themselves. I think they'll be half, when everyone has them, and they'll want more, you know, the one,
"Mine is bigger than yours.,"
They will sell double-deckers (a London bus).
Well, where Marbella is slowly ending, at least the real ones, the suburbs are beginning, with marinas and yachts and everything is in diamonds and gold. So much so that even sheikhs find it homey, it's so ugly.
The ugliest handbag in the world cost €4,000. And it didn't even have diamonds in it. Those were a bit more expensive, even if I got it on sale.
Hey, I stepped on the gas and drove over the first overpass over the lower highway, to the side with the settlements for waiters and cleaners, and it was just as good, if not better, than on the Kozaks, Šejks side.
Folk is pure fiu-fiu.
Then I saw on YouTube that they were organizing whip parties, with I don't know how many admission fees, so that you could then pour champagne over the Ukrainian women. Not the Radgon sparkling wine*, but the yellow one, Don Perignon.
Radgona*
Slovenian champagne
Let's leave this part of Marbella alone for now, it's getting a bit repetitive.
But that's why I was so much more impressed by the old part. I guess because of the contrast. Because, because, because it's an old medieval, Moorish, Andalusian mix of houses and all of them are very nicely decorated. Otherwise, 90% of the cafes and other things are on that theme, but it's especially cute in the morning when they're still sleeping.
Yes, they are from a little earlier. Then they come and sit down for a while, and there is a crowd.
The fishing part was demolished so that they could build high-rise buildings on the coast. Luckily, the streets are so narrow that you don't even notice the silhouettes, but when you step between the high-rise buildings, you end up spitting into the sea.
There's nothing negative about it. As a child, I really loved doing it, it was like saying goodbye to the sea. When we got to the sea side it was already night, you know, the columns on Kačje ride*, and the Fiat was boiling, on every serious slope and than it was time to just spit in the sea, and then go to sleep.
It's similar on the way home.
We have to leave in the middle of the night because it's crowded and hot.
»I'll be right back, I'll just spit in the sea.«
That's all you need to know.
We have a very special relationship with the sea. Not to say that Marbella has the same sea.
How?
Toko.
Try it. You can swim to Lopud, you don't have to get out of the water. We spent some time there on vacation.
But I wanted to talk about something else. Namely, when you head out of the medieval town towards the coast, about 300m away you're in a park, with quite a few bushy trees, which wouldn't be unprecedented if there weren't Dali's statues standing in between.
Look, some people know.
And they still have money.
But he could have gambled for a couple of nights and then redeemed himself with the statues.
Who knows, maybe Janit's tycoon got the idea from Dali.
Ok.
Then it just moves slowly (traffic, though (yes, on the highway, which in the Maerbela area is only a bypass)) and there is an exit for Istan. Then there is a 6 roundabout, so you still do circles on the straight, but it just shoots you into a valley. The Sierra just bursts here and a small river flows down.
»Now.
That's like that.«
As already mentioned, it's a desert here, or at least a semi-desert. John, the caretaker of the settlement where we settled, and also of another one, said that the last rain falls in March, and then it's hot, awfully hot, and ridiculously hot.
In January and February, even snow falls, and that up in the Sierra, so that when it melts, it even forms rivers. And the valley we drove to is special. Special because it has a reservoir and therefore so many golf courses. They need to be watered. Not to mention that almost every house has a swimming pool. The only question is how big. I think the sheikhs have an Olympic-sized one, but in the shape of a palm tree, or at least a chakia.
The resort is 11 km from the center of Marbella and is called Sierra Blanca Country Club. It has a ramp and two security guards. They don't play cards and drink tequila, but one is constantly on the move and the other is in monitoring, because everything is under control. Apparently the biggest business on the Costa del Sol is security.
There are maybe 30 houses. At least those that have been moved in. There are some more up the hill but they are an abandoned construction site. Luckily we were closer to the beginning and the view was across the lake towards Gibraltar and Morocco.
Oh, great. Especially at sunset.
"Like in cowboy movies."(sunset)
As mentioned, we were next door to the English owners, so they help each other out when they're not around. The next door is supposedly the only house on the Costa del Sol with gutters.
»Now.
That is like that.«
Yes, it rarely rains, but when it does, it's not so innocent and Jani first had to fix the drain from the roof of one of the terraces, because it was tilted towards the house, without a drain. You know that it was flowing along the inner wall. It's rare, but over the years you can tell that that wall is darker and more gloomy than the others.
I'm telling you, I don't know if the fallen baron was thinking anything when he built this.
Oh, there are so many details like that. That's why John did so well, because something is constantly leaking, or collapsing, or falling apart. But in the sales brochure they say:
swissmadehomes.
Hey. It must be a joke.
Although they're dead serious about it.
Slovenians on the ground floor, Danes on the first floor.
We cooked mostly in our kitchen, which is really huge, and ate at the Finns' on one of the many terraces.
We passed the food over the fence.
But to visit, you had to go up to the street, and half the way down, in short, 6 floors to dinner.
I climbed over the fence once, but it was a bit of a climb. Not that I couldn't, but if I had climbed down I would have stumbled upon agave, which are known for their inhospitability, at least from this side.
The road from Marbella passes the aforementioned settlement, which is the last one, but there are still a lot of houses up in the woods, but not enough to make it look like a village. They used to be farms. Today, however, every hut is turned into a villa with a swimming pool. And so on up the Siera path to Istan.
Oh, this one is.
Supposedly, when the Inquisition burned all the Moors along the coast, they overlooked such settlements, so the Moors lived up there for a few more years, and it's supposedly still the same as it was then. Who knows what it was like back then. But it's under UNESCO protection and so it's something, but that's it.
In my opinion, apart from a few stones, and even those are not masterpieces, there are still names left. For example, Idrizit's Passage. The path between the houses.
Now.
What were the Arabs from present-day Morocco called in those days? They are said to have been the ones who made Al Ambro and invented Flamenco.
Yes.
Flamenco is gypsy. There's no debate.
But the gypsies sang their songs to the sheikhs and that's all they had left.
Ok.
It doesn't matter.
If you ever get carried away in Marbella, which I don't recommend at all, take a half-turn under La Concha, that's the peak we were guessing how high it was, after dinner on the terrace, we hiked up the hill behind the house. I set it for 2 hours, which would be about 600 m, considering that it starts from the sea.
But I screwed up 100%. 1200m, which is about 4 hours, depending on the terrain, and especially the heat. If I had reached the top then, I would probably have walked for three days, if I had succeeded at all, it was that hot.
I remember it was similar up in Tärnaby. It also looked like a small hill, but it was 3 hours to the top. It looked flat.
It looks like a concrete hill here, but it's so high and so close.
In short, behind the cute Istan, which is full of springs and the water is cold even in summer, there is a gorge with fresh water and it looked super fancy on the internet, but I couldn't find a companion because who knows what kind of animals are crawling around, but apparently you can even swim there.
If I ever go again, it will be mandatory, this gorge, so to speak, behind the house.
They have some more, even significantly more exciting, local wonders, but the dimensions are very different than in our valley, and those wanderings, a little around, were insanely long. Not so much long, but hot. And along those paths, around every stone, 3x. Well, it's not, but it feels strangely similar.
There are also some white towns on the hill, so we didn't see 3/4 of it, there was already enough program.
Clasic.
The Danes booked tickets for Al Ambra 6 months in advance, but I thought it was stupid and didn't see it.
Malaga is super cool. It really surprised me. I didn't expect anything at all after seeing Marbella.
Oh, that's fine.
Ok. I don't count the suburbs, that's nowhere near as good. But the center is great. In every way. From architecture, fashion (oh, some of them are really well-designed), theater (street), painting, this one is especially good because Picasso lived here, to music. Oh, flamenco is already good, but when you see it, oh, how good...
It has eyes, and a voice, and everything, not to mention the details and limbs.
If someone asked me.
"I hope to go to Malaga again sometime."
Now.
That is like this.
Of course, not everything is supertrupernajboljimmožnfajn (super-truper-best-possible-fine), but they can be forgiven. Traffic, namely. Before I knew it, we were probably already in front of Barcelona. Not that many, but they were already suburbs. Namely, if you wanted to go left, you have to go right and join a perpendicular road there. Which even makes sense, but it takes quite a while for them to take it seriously. Not to mention that there wasn't just one stupid intersection, and it was incorrectly marked, and they were all the same.
What else?
The children were already completely independent.
Jes of corse.
That's just what they say.
You know they were grumpy. From to, as already set.
However, differences emerged.
The biggest one was that Julija didn't want to take Sara with her to her friend's birthday party.
Until now, it was kind of the default that girls had their own way and boys had their own way. There's no problem with boys at all. Although one of them plays the game in Danish.
Uh, it's funny to fix WinS in Danish. This happened to me once. I got a computer really cheap, and WinS was in French. I thought, well, everything is there, just like in English.
Sit up here and you'll see the Eiffel Tower.
It's not as it should be in Danish either, so I just gave up.
The kids had no problems. The games are international.
Julija went to school in Marbella for half the year because Mona was there, and Jani came over on the weekends. She met a whole class of friends and they are still a group, but Sara doesn't fit in.
Now.
What is that? I have no idea. I think it's more of an excuse because Sara can be really difficult.
What do I know?
But I know she wasn't out of her room all evening, she was busy cooking a grudge.
Diana has thawed. Apparently, not everything is so rosy, even in Denmark. She still has a very high opinion of democracy, but she is gradually giving in to the system itself.
Bernt, is the boss for all of Europe and the most sought-after IT insurance agent because he knows nothing about computers.
Jani does it the old way. He attends courses and camps on how to be even nicer to subordinates.
Mona is already really into painting. She organizes exhibitions, she doesn't know how to do it on Etsy. But it's not a site for artists anyway, which Nives didn't agree with.
Anything else?
Well.
Of course. The adventures never end. Or maybe there's everything to tell, I don't know.
Jakob had to take out the trash. It's up the street and a half down the street to the intersection, because the garbage man only goes down the main street. He left the kitchen trash can right there. Of course, they took it away.
A real adventure?
Nothing really, except that we couldn't find a new one for a similar price. Namely, the kitchen trash can was about €200, they only had them for €600, so we took the most luxurious model on the side of the highway for the cleaners. The most expensive but still only €60.
Well, it's just a trash can.
Yes. But in Marbella.
Than.
We left in the middle of the night.
In reality, the flight from Malaga to Rome was at 4 am.
An hour early to the airport, an hour to the airport, saying goodbye and cleaning up even earlier, of course we didn't sleep.
So, I was all dizzy, I left all my documents (personal, bank, visa, health, driver's license) with the customs officer.
I only figured it out in Trieste when I had to get to the car. There's an automatic transmission there.
»What now?«
So we found a guy who even knew what we were talking about. We paid extra for his valuable time and went to see how much the lettuce had grown.
U.
Big.
It was determined by the Danes.
Scandinavians are crazy about the Makarska Riviera and thought that everything was on the same level as they would choose at home.
Well, it's not.
Waiters on the Makarska Riviera have houses in Podaca, where they host all their relatives from Bosnia.
The appearance is also top-notch.
I noticed this most in Istanbul.
It's very polished up to the threshold, it depends on the individual's taste, but then you step on garbage. The street is not his and it even adds to the look nicely.
It's not that extreme here, but there are only two old fishing huts in the settlement. The rest are mostly 6-story stucco buildings, with 100 dormers and bay windows, and everything is unplastered.
So.
It has nothing to do with Dalmatian medieval towns.
At the initial shock, I told myself, it's important that we meet, the rest will be okay.
Now.
It wasn't bad at all. It met expectations, even great, but we did it ourselves and observed the architecture in Hvar, Split, and Dubrovnik.
Swimming was also ...
Hey, I completely forgot we used to play this. Some people still do and it was quite a shock. I thought those were the times you were talking about with a little giggle, but here it's still true.
That's how it goes.
The beach could even be nice if there weren't so many people. And that's in the way that you build a fence around your towel, pillow, hose, whatever you bring.
Then you leave it there overnight so it doesn't settle there. Maybe they come to check at night.
I didn't check.
There's no room between the towels, you can't even go to the sea without stepping on someone's property. Considering how big he is, I wouldn't be surprised if he could still grab you by the ears.
Nobody knows.
Except that everyone, except the children, still looked at you, still cute, really hard.
So I went swimming on the rocks, there are also urchin there, and there are almost no people, but it's still quite far away.
They had already gathered one house almost on Biokovo. Not at the top, but not far either, at least when you were climbing back, the setting sun could drink away the last atoms of excitement and soon you could look like the locals, but there was ice cream up there and it wasn't so hopeless.
Now.
If nothing else, we had a great view.
But come on. We didn't miss anything, except that it wasn't Venetian Gothic. But it was a newly composed Baroque, which is not to be dismissed.
It wasn't that bad. As long as you don't mess with things like that, it's not a problem at all.
"But what do I want, that's how I am."
Except for the first time you think the car is going to do a stand, that's the kind of slope it is. Well, it was steep, but it was narrower than the car.
"Wait, wait, you're going to crash!"
Then she took a breath, hoping to be smaller. But it is possible. It seems that it is not, but no one has touched it, nor has it run aground. But it is true that, like in the movies, we have never met anyone during maneuvers.
Hey, I can't imagine what happens then. I can't even park in a regular parking lot without fixing it, and it's 3x wider than the one over there.
The children, such little cuties they were, were already turning things their own way.
Now.
That is like that.
Like who and where.
Some are completely cured, while others are even more severe cases than before, when they were still helpless.
So.
dotuki
We did see Sebastian, at breakfast and dinner. He organized the rest himself. He gathered what he wanted and went to his room to use his computer. He supposedly said hello at some point, but I'm not sure, partly because the others were so much louder that he didn't even try.
Sara apparently has, then there's a long explanation, and the symptoms are anamnesis, because I don't know if that's what it's called, but apparently it's serious, it's not just pimples.
In my time, I got them around my ear and I was healthy, if I ever thought about it, I didn't, so I don't even know what it would be like if I did.
They apparently go from psychiatrist to psychotherapist, and everything in between, including a second opinion. I would say she's normal and she's just throwing it. It's just the right time. Better now than in her old age. And her parents, Diana says, Bernt just nods, says yes, okay, not everything, I didn't understand half of it, but I nodded along, quite worried.
You know it's bad.
Oh, what?
Hey, I have no idea, but it's definitely something serious.
Julka studied at a college near London. No, nothing is known. At least from my side, but history takes its course anyway and everything is known differently than in my time.
Apparently, London's colleges are full of Arabs, Russians, and Indians, so she wants to get out, among the English. There's some logic to that, but still.
»And what will she study?
Law, what else?«
So our mouse is once again the best possible. And it also drives him crazy, but at least in more or less expected directions.
Ok.
He's not interested in anything.
Really. Apart from playing computer games, and watching movies on the computer of course. He doesn't draw, he doesn't write, he doesn't play, he doesn't play music, he doesn't run, he doesn't jump, he doesn't ski, ...
Ok. The archer was quite successful. Well, yes. As much as he can be in such an environment. Always second or third. And sometimes he was eliminated.
»And how is that?
What?«
The scout is also quite active. And again, at least on two chairs.
»Why?
What?
You don't even realize that being a scout is also about belonging and direction.
"If they are so heawy."
Then I'd rather go camping with the Scouts, they'll carry it more.
"Do you know how to pray?
Neither do they."
We put him on the bus in Makarska the next Sunday, at 11pm, heading to Ljubljana.
Oh, and the girls from Split are there.
"Have you met any of them?
What? Which one? Where?"
Supposedly he caught the departure of the Slovenian bus to France. Somewhere in the south, something on M.
"Marsej?
No, someone over there.
Well, you don't know where you're going.?
The driver knows."
They were on a hike for a week, and they filmed the film for a week in Lille.
"In the south, and it starts with M. You know that."
They even had it on the front page of the local newspaper, and the organizers recorded the final videos and of course we are up there. Otherwise, he just holds the microphone. Or he plays cards on his phone, surrounded by 8 of the most beautiful Portuguese and French women.
I don't know if it's mine.
"Do you dare leave him alone in the dark night, and in France?"
Diana asked.
"Didn't you travel independently at that age too?
I am, but ...
You went to Freetown Christiania when you were younger.
I did, but those were completely different times.
That's what your mother said, after you left."
Lej.
The sooner they become independent, the easier it will be for them. And he understands that he can always come home.
Jakob and Julia only met on Saturday. She came on Friday because she was selling ice cream at Hki.
Jakob chatted like he had never done before in his life. Julija had to check on the phone every minute to see what was happening on the other end of the line, but she also participated in the chat.
It was clear to them that it was short and sweet.
It seems they just got along, even though all these years it seemed like they were completely unrelated.
Julčka does have a boyfriend, but that doesn't prejudice anything.
Mona couldn't log in to Etsy, so she went to another online gallery and has already sold many of her works. They are only a few K each.
Jani travels all over the world. It's not easy being an operative in a company like this that does business in all corners of the world. He's never home and has a very bad conscience. We'll see if there's a course to be at home more. So far, there's none in sight.
Bernt is almost completely gray. He is worried about what will happen next. They earn a lot of money in our terms, but we can't even imagine what their costs are, and if you want to maintain the level you experienced in the years of fat cows, then many things don't work out if you don't have two salaries.
Diana resigned.
Now.
If she was fired, we'll never know, it's like history books. They're always written by the victors.
Of course I'm cheering for Diana and not for Une donkeys. But that's already a geo-shift, because for a few years she kept insisting that everything was rosy. It's like the Danes are shitting violets.
I'm exaggerating, but it's not far from the point.
Apparently the bosses got on her.
If she weighed half as much on them as she did on me with democracy, I can even imagine it.
If it cannot be changed, but it can be fired, it is very reminiscent of our valley.
Now.
In Finland, they were dismissed with a three-month notice period, or 3 salaries in cash. Half of the salary was 6 months, 80% of the salary, and this was tax-free, which is nominally more than before. The length of support depended on the strength of the union. The money is union, not state.
»What?
Yes?«
The state has nothing to do with it.
»How?«
So it cannot build a second track. It can set the conditions, but it cannot participate.
?
How do they live so well?
Few steal.
And most of them get it quickly. and them don't even need a commission.
They just lock them up. Even if he's the president, the mayor, the councilor.
It's so easy somewhere.
They never had socialism, that says a lot.
In short, nothing major is wrong with them. Diana already got a job by New Year's.
She had previously declined one or three. She was too far away. She was below the level. She didn't see herself progressing.
»?
So, say something if you can.«
Which is no reason why they shouldn't be extra grumpy and some of them go gray very quickly. Diana doesn't show it because she's basically blonde.
Bert is a complicated person.
»Was there anything else?«
Not exactly.
Dubrovnik is still the best. Regardless of the huge crowds of tourists. It's a bit noisy at times, but that's not the case with Dubrovnik de facto.
Same Hvar. No amount of yachts can ruin it. Until they come up with a model that will park in the square. I'm not saying half of it. Half of it won't be nice anymore. But I think it'll be fine for a while.
"Isn't it? You tell me."
Than.
I don't know if it's worth mentioning, but it's similar to trains.
The train is deeply engraved in my soul. Since childhood, even a faint memory awakens, which is why I love to ride it. But almost everything, except for romance, speaks against it.
It's similar with a ship.
We missed the ferry and were among the first to arrive.
Was it boring to wait?
Yes, it is. But it's not a problem. It's exactly the same scene as when I was a child and I can stare at the waltzes and the pennies on them for hours and I don't get bored.
And there's already the next ferry.
We went to a tavern for fish one evening.
Nowadays, the quality of a place is determined by the Google.
Now.
Stupid in its own way, because it's hard for a newcomer to establish himself, even if he has the best offer.
On the other hand, all the bribery and connections won't help you. If your clients have stagnated, there's no escape.
Now.
If the customers have taste. But if they are stupid, they screw up nicely. And all you're left with is how many positive reviews there are, compared to the negative ones.
It's not unusual for a place to be bad sometimes. But if there are half of them, you'll already be wondering. Not to mention if the place is free of criticism. Praise alone doesn't help either.
And Jani decides to go.
As for me, if I were to rate it, I would give everything 5 stars. Location, architecture, equipment, ambiance, service, food, drinks.
Now.
Yes, I'm a complete idiot and most people don't even look at the ambiance and architecture. I agree with them completely. But that's just me.
Bernt, a wine expert who runs thick beech trees about quality, who goes to courses and tastings, determined that Plavak was not okay.
In my opinion, it's just too cheap and not on the Michelin map, let alone with a star.
That's why it's bad. Hey. If anything, that's not it.
The fish came from the sea this morning and are local, not frozen Japanese, but that doesn't count either.
In short. Even if it tastes the best and isn't in the encyclopedia, or maybe it's tasteless, that's all that matters.
All the money in the world won't help you, but if you have no taste, there's no escape.
But I love them. With their difference, they constantly tell me that there are other views of the world.
Althjough I was the only one right.
Otherwise, it's not a joint vacation. But everything else is as it should be.
“Wait.”
Nives was over excited.
It was a bit reminiscent of that period when you're in love, when you're fading and your sharp nails could fall off, but you just smile. From a distance, little fiu-fiu, but otherwise a period that makes life worth living.
She made up a whole story about me not being allowed to touch the new phone, even though I was the only one around who read the manuals. So far, I've always been the first to wake up a new piece of technology. Not unbox it. That was done by the celebrant. But then, when all the uu-s and iii-s are over and the first ee-s appears. Then I take over.
"Wait. Give me the manual!"
Then it takes a little while, but not terribly long.
Here, for the first time in my life, I was not allowed to use, and perhaps the first smartphone in the family. Jakob already had a tablet, but it was already broken and he declared that she should activate it herself, he just couldn't do it and should just read the notifications on the screen.
I know, this is the hardest, but that's always been my trick, so that too many people thought I was a good for computers.
Ok. I shouldn't have done it now.
Because I should find it very suspicious, but you never know. Like in old age, when that initial infatuation fades and no longer looks at you so distantly, when you could say a little whatever you wanted, she probably didn't even hear it, otherwise she would have resisted even then, but then there is a special state and the problems of this world seem at least distant, if not completely weightless.
It was so similar.
But it didn't stop. It was little by little at first, like flashes of a fortnight in the future. Then it became more and more frequent, until a couple of hours before, she came and sat on the other side of the table, looked at me, as described above, and said that my gift was late and would definitely arrive after 5pm.
I thought, she should have at least ordered with UPS so she can track the shipment in minutes with the new app. My birthday was last month, but you never know, today's the day, postal routes are weird.
Then at 7pm the doorbell rings. I'm supposed to go open it, because it's definitely my mail.
Ok, so.
Maybe she knew that I always watch the newscast, and open it to quickly turn it off, just in case there's some news I can't let go of.
Before the entrance, a song echoes into the sky.
They were not carolers.
My Finnish friends came to wish me a happy birthday. They were supposed to be gone for a month, but who cares about the details?
I find myself in unexpected situations, most of the time. It only lasts a moment. But we know that moments are very short and sometimes some people don't even realize there was a gap.
So here too, it seemed that the only one who was out of breath was Jakob. He really didn't understand what was happening.
We were already happily hugging each other, and yes, we were also howling a little, you know, oooo, aaaa, eeee, uuuu, and so on. Come on in, how are you different? Jakob was just hugging the pillar on the staircase.
Jolly good, I tell you.
They were there over the weekend and then they left.
Who wouldn't love them?
Nothing like that, you naughty soul.
It's not WTF, we've been using it for a while now.
It's not Welcome To Finland either.
But.
Apparently, we've already made an abbreviation for Wine Food and Tarok for the second meeting.
I've already taught them tarok up there (Finland). Of course, with lots of Merlot. And it goes great with cheese and sausage. But that's another story, also more or less told in previous writings.