tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-58219471068259107702024-03-05T20:23:07.102+01:00Another Beautiful DayPinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.comBlogger915125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-25618409265851999632017-11-19T20:27:00.000+01:002017-11-19T20:27:59.474+01:00GizelaMy mom said just yesterday: "In fact, she was a charismatic person." The only imperfection in her lifestory was that there were no people who followed her charisma. <br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKI7UNnVo02g6eNw775rBiL0Noc-e7ssYS_RUC-LGNXaWX_hl1rOdTgs6gWLXASwZdkJZJPcAAZb8c_chJXBhSHesApWc9IG2ubYZC8oAetosXDGeb5aUVYAg6J1Y4c73jljTJULS186vL/s1600/IMG_7629.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKI7UNnVo02g6eNw775rBiL0Noc-e7ssYS_RUC-LGNXaWX_hl1rOdTgs6gWLXASwZdkJZJPcAAZb8c_chJXBhSHesApWc9IG2ubYZC8oAetosXDGeb5aUVYAg6J1Y4c73jljTJULS186vL/s640/IMG_7629.jpg" width="480" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A beautiful young lady</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
She was born to a beautiful young woman, Marija, and a beautiful young man, Franc. Fabčič was her maiden family name. She was born as an Italian because today's Slovenia used to be a part of Italy then. Her first years were quite happy ones, although she did never tell us so. She admired her granddad Luka, because he was a rich and capable man. She tried to please her dad, who was in fact beating his wife from time to time. And then, just before the WW2, her mother died at the age of 45. A little girl was then taken to her relatives, where kind people tried to comfort her. But she kept crying. Her father decided then to take her to other relatives, where she was treated badly and worked as a maiden servant. She was 12 at that time. Interesting, that she stretched those two years and a half into an infinity, all she could remember from her youth were those years of hard work. She kept telling us the same story over and over again, as if there was no other life after that.<br />
<br />
But there was life after that, after the war, when she went to work to the other part of Slovenia. She met her future husband there, got pregnant and, of course, married him. Several hard years followed, when she was often hungry. She waited for her first cooking pot in a line all night. She kept telling us this story, over and over again, as if there were, again, no other, happier stories to tell. My mom was born soon after her marriage, some years later also her son, my uncle Aleš, who died suddenly last year in August at the age of 60.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyozB1mRF8PdJUjuVZmK5EvEy5BNIJrgpyMu0spBPm0HtNMNIkKzPtmXmtVKzCzBOOneqhvznCfpvyJV1WLZ5bE2eAGxm1eunXKjKRl90FRBV_tn-hzjbPfzj665kRIMaj1uTerjEYIOr_/s1600/IMG_4108.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyozB1mRF8PdJUjuVZmK5EvEy5BNIJrgpyMu0spBPm0HtNMNIkKzPtmXmtVKzCzBOOneqhvznCfpvyJV1WLZ5bE2eAGxm1eunXKjKRl90FRBV_tn-hzjbPfzj665kRIMaj1uTerjEYIOr_/s640/IMG_4108.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">With her husband, Franc.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
She was only 41 when I, her first grandchild, was born and she was retired only about a decade later. She worked hard, always. In her home, in her garden. She didn't like to travel, her life was her garden. Her home was a tidy place, I have never seen a tidier one. She always had to be no. 1. And as long as her husband was alive, it was so. She spent the last 7 years alone. She stopped to exercise each morning soon after his death, but not of sadness but because she had no one anymore to prove that she was the best wife in the world.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigaCST3lBfClVuD8ZilAOkrkLjYKoo8F74U_Mtts5ogGu8I8e8t8XlvTRzPSJ1BjHWcr6A8eCcqOdPoYRSusOSq5-x4lzcnEo4-h0LPyo2wZjBTPhrmO3EyiAaiH5f6AMWRP-yLOzrB02v/s1600/IMG_7507.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigaCST3lBfClVuD8ZilAOkrkLjYKoo8F74U_Mtts5ogGu8I8e8t8XlvTRzPSJ1BjHWcr6A8eCcqOdPoYRSusOSq5-x4lzcnEo4-h0LPyo2wZjBTPhrmO3EyiAaiH5f6AMWRP-yLOzrB02v/s640/IMG_7507.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">In her garden ("ranch") two years ago.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
She got sick about three years ago. Diagnosed with a cancer. We were not allowed to tell anyone about her illness. She did not believe in her recovery, she despised doctors. When she could not live by herself anymore, she moved to the old people's home, where she passed away yesterday, at 4.30 in the morning. <br />
<br />
I was quite shocked when she told me a few months ago that she had never really loved my granddad. "Why did you marry him?" I asked. "Because he was the only one who was kind to me," she answered. <br />
<br />
And recently she's said: "I am sorry that I worked that hard," realising that nothing would remain after her when she's gone.<br />
<br />
Her last word to me a week ago was: "Čau." Goodbye, grandmom! She would celebrate her 89th birthday on Wednesday.Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-67244428294929977622017-10-01T10:37:00.001+02:002017-10-01T10:37:35.155+02:00IndependenceIt is hard to believe that Spain still lives in the Middle ages.<br />
Good luck, Catalans! I keep fingers crossed for you!Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-89852351838048390302017-09-18T16:28:00.001+02:002017-09-18T16:28:41.477+02:00A new job<blockquote>
<span style="color: #073763;">People have to kind of find their own level, hack their own way through the jungle, and in that respect we've mostly turned out okay.</span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;">~ Justin Cartwright, Leading the Cheers</span></blockquote>
<br />
Finally I am off the pills, but my back is still rather tight and I suppose it will get better after quite some time. I hope that I will get some good advice what to do to heal it completely later this week at the physiotherapy. <br />
<br />
I start it the same day as my new job. Yes, a new job, finally! Although I will be able to keep it only by the end of this year, it is as precious as pure gold. I know already that I will work very hard and that the job will not be really for my liking, but at least I won't have to think every day if I earned enough money with the guided tours to pay my bills. It comforts me a bit that I will be still able to work as a guide in my free time. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT0ME2MOY9uyO7PV-1RMEdI3X7DLRiSXHpIHS6TeF5L_3RpzQKDS9T_bd-sL6wdC6w6-4Ahgt2q5gR0C3exAaPBrhOENvSmEe3bRYsthPaV3hHZdPha2xjcikNnbKSX3q-V1V6ZyWxgyiu/s1600/IMG_3393.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT0ME2MOY9uyO7PV-1RMEdI3X7DLRiSXHpIHS6TeF5L_3RpzQKDS9T_bd-sL6wdC6w6-4Ahgt2q5gR0C3exAaPBrhOENvSmEe3bRYsthPaV3hHZdPha2xjcikNnbKSX3q-V1V6ZyWxgyiu/s640/IMG_3393.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
Cold months of the year are ahead of us and I am glad that at last my life will get the rythm I so long wished for. But first of all I will have to take care of my health. This means a lot of all sorts of recreation, not just hiking to the mountains from time to time. <br />
<br />
Yes, my precious mountains ... it's hard to tell how much I miss them. This mountain season is unfortunatelly over for me ... but it seems like the weather is on my side, at least for now (in the picture which I took yesterday on my short walk are flooded meadow and field --- we will get another "shipment" of rain today and tomorrow). Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-21187732569150663002017-09-09T15:40:00.001+02:002017-09-09T15:40:41.833+02:00The recoveryMy recovery is slow but life is getting back to its normal track. Of course my idea was that Ž will pamper me just a little bit, but how wrong I was about this! It is amazing how busy life is back at home. E-mails, phone calls, but to my surprise most people are not asking, how am I doing, but when will I be back working. Soon, is all I can tell. I wish I had so much work during spring and summer months and not now, when there are other plans on my schedule. Because while I was lying in the hospital, I received a call that will change my life quite a bit. But more about this next week.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl3wx0QPKZ7uXS6sO6AA1afCh0M8zxoTVzVKkG0FNdPPltS-RC7Uoy8rOxeTkamIyj9x5V0blrQHwZxcTmVRcJV5MZwZlyqtp9qv7LWdcObDRfNmkP-LwE3nw4bYP1P6N8IvMZOWrGhI97/s1600/IMG_3335.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl3wx0QPKZ7uXS6sO6AA1afCh0M8zxoTVzVKkG0FNdPPltS-RC7Uoy8rOxeTkamIyj9x5V0blrQHwZxcTmVRcJV5MZwZlyqtp9qv7LWdcObDRfNmkP-LwE3nw4bYP1P6N8IvMZOWrGhI97/s640/IMG_3335.JPG" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="1600" data-original-height="1066" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2E1zjwhR5VmKpw5aFSa3wo04vfgu8kYfaqW1s1xO5HBn_ot2WS8N7Uc7nN69RLLxOflULILvKWAlHnSuptALrsYxztw9JLCp3MD6pqUHcOsz50rSYzkwBFXIU4qvCX8upAtMmY68oMkhe/s1600/IMG_3339.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2E1zjwhR5VmKpw5aFSa3wo04vfgu8kYfaqW1s1xO5HBn_ot2WS8N7Uc7nN69RLLxOflULILvKWAlHnSuptALrsYxztw9JLCp3MD6pqUHcOsz50rSYzkwBFXIU4qvCX8upAtMmY68oMkhe/s640/IMG_3339.JPG" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="1600" data-original-height="1066" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWwsovU0XdrDAbGPl2-0H9wGlnLOSMZ9yPt-QWRrd6rGKifOOtolVrhX6IHmOLjZKKioTmVUqV99U-hYWPzmQOviMtY6nA-JKZtgSZMrK2phym8XsXtrrGoNPZd4otsIEos9el-xNrC3o/s1600/IMG_3340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEWwsovU0XdrDAbGPl2-0H9wGlnLOSMZ9yPt-QWRrd6rGKifOOtolVrhX6IHmOLjZKKioTmVUqV99U-hYWPzmQOviMtY6nA-JKZtgSZMrK2phym8XsXtrrGoNPZd4otsIEos9el-xNrC3o/s640/IMG_3340.JPG" width="640" height="426" data-original-width="1600" data-original-height="1066" /></a></div>Some rainy days will follow and I will try to make the most of them. Mostly trying to rest, and, of course, to walk, to excercise, because all these things will help my body to recover. And I will try to capture these last days of summer (oh, how much I miss the warmth!) through the lens of my camera. To remember how it was. Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-67424774483990862762017-09-03T15:59:00.000+02:002017-09-03T15:59:37.126+02:00A week in a hospital<blockquote>
Accept the place the divine providence has found for you.<br />
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson</blockquote>
<br />
Things are not always as we want them to be, and sometimes sudden events completely change our lives. I am still not aware of how much my life will change after one single wrong move, but I do know that life will be a little bit different from now on.<br />
<br />
It was Thursday, 24th August, when I was helping my mom in the garden. She is not as fit anymore as she used to be (oh, neither am I), so I picked a bag full of vegetables to carry it to her car. One wrong move caused a strong pain in my back. Less than an hour later I was lying on the floor in front of my bed, not able to move. Ž couldn't pick me up or help me any other way, the pain was just too strong. I called an ambulance, what else could I do? A doctor came, gave me some pills which didn't help at all. <br />
<br />
The next morning I called an ambulance again and they drove me to the hospital. The pain was unbearable. Lots of doctors came to see me, nobody knew what was wrong with me. I was lying there for hours, painkillers slowly leaking into my veins, but they didn't help at all. In the evening I was finally accepted into the hospital to stay there overnight. Or, better said, to stay there for another week.<br />
<br />
Time went slowly or fast, it depended on a day, besides I was lucky that two women in the same room were a pleasant company during the first three days. Sometimes we talked, sometimes we were just alone with our own thoughts. It is amazing, how life slows down and nothing else but ourselves matters.<br />
<br />
Further examinations showed that my back did not suffer any major injuries and it will, luckily, heal over time. All I need now is a lot of rest and most of all, a lot of exercise. Yes, I know, my laziness brought me all the way to this.<br />
<br />
My head is dizzy of all the medicaments that I am taking right now, but hopefully by the end of this week I will stop taking them completely. Life slowed down, and I am grateful for this. Oh, so grateful! And I am grateful to all those nurses and doctors (females and males) who took care of me during those long days and nights, sometimes also with humour when nothing else helped. Thank you!Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-32915858420019214922017-08-21T16:27:00.001+02:002017-08-21T16:29:25.368+02:00Summer reading<blockquote>
<span style="color: #a64d79;">At a certain age all the questions a person asks him or herself are really just about one thing: how should you live your life? ~ Fredrik Backman</span></blockquote>
I've read a couple of books this summer which I could easily put on "my favorites" list. One of them was <span style="color: #a64d79;">Britt-Marie was here</span> by <span style="color: #a64d79;">Fredrik Backman</span> and the other one was <span style="color: #a64d79;">Leading the cheers</span> by <span style="color: #a64d79;">Justin Cartwright</span>. Both of them are in a way connected with what I feel right now, with how I live at the moment. They made me think of what I should really do with my life. Because things have to change, no matter how good my life looks from someone else's perspective. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmSWvozUCpJcHZGDQhOZ6hl32GXFvvdfWaF-OPDNG4bY30vSmk3V1PrpFL3qwSijLV-5UBRVDeZZCB18akEdNfkEtH3CfLBLLIrRl22AYcmMvTkyhY_QAgI3k7dAeKrHYFFCPvJodIJEDn/s1600/20170821_154736.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmSWvozUCpJcHZGDQhOZ6hl32GXFvvdfWaF-OPDNG4bY30vSmk3V1PrpFL3qwSijLV-5UBRVDeZZCB18akEdNfkEtH3CfLBLLIrRl22AYcmMvTkyhY_QAgI3k7dAeKrHYFFCPvJodIJEDn/s640/20170821_154736.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<blockquote>
<span style="color: #a64d79;">A human being, any human being at all, has so perishingly few chances to stay right there, to let go of time and fall into the moment. And to love someone without measure. Explode with passion. ~ Fredrik Backman</span></blockquote>
Did you ever love anyone without measure? I was lucky enough that I did. Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-31263587083463858872017-08-20T11:03:00.001+02:002017-08-21T16:28:25.713+02:00Mountains keep calling meI made plans last year on top of which mountains I want to stand this year, but achieving this seems to be far from easy. Either I work either the weather is bad, the other day I injured my foot, several days it was too hot. Besides I am not as fit as I planned to be. Dreaming a lot but achieving too little. Though, most of all I am really tired of the work I did during winter and spring. Days and days of study are taking their toll now, as all I want to do is rest just a little bit longer. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlKR4TAcDq05qUO0e2RmXUm0ScvXTsKyh-o19DbkLFt49yfMeJ-CNk3I2Ax0L8F8yW1UJPP2K62PAxm3mzW8bbod0DPZFfgmpi_W-Ah9rxM1CQXkZdZRVFN0UJme1V8e0vm1bMRkQHb5hF/s1600/IMG_2906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlKR4TAcDq05qUO0e2RmXUm0ScvXTsKyh-o19DbkLFt49yfMeJ-CNk3I2Ax0L8F8yW1UJPP2K62PAxm3mzW8bbod0DPZFfgmpi_W-Ah9rxM1CQXkZdZRVFN0UJme1V8e0vm1bMRkQHb5hF/s640/IMG_2906.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwihEm0a-miSaBRbzXXe_WuAPtRTL4lVjz58hYsnYD5pmKihoy4OjBoYXvwDGv_NnAP1lgQ4n2wRalZ_wMvyeGRhk_UdUVrSZsdt3oHPKCOsgNubtu9gMyIrkVy4lbQM68W05UhDB08fdo/s1600/IMG_2899.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1066" data-original-width="1600" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwihEm0a-miSaBRbzXXe_WuAPtRTL4lVjz58hYsnYD5pmKihoy4OjBoYXvwDGv_NnAP1lgQ4n2wRalZ_wMvyeGRhk_UdUVrSZsdt3oHPKCOsgNubtu9gMyIrkVy4lbQM68W05UhDB08fdo/s640/IMG_2899.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
But, when I am finally up there, I am extremely happy. :) So, why wait, right?Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-91973202211636438532017-08-07T19:46:00.000+02:002017-08-07T19:47:09.639+02:00Who's guiding who?I got my first job at the Ministry of work and I would have built a great career by today. But ... B was the one who had wanted me to work in the company owned by his family, so I simply left the ministry and started to work for them. Six years of boredom, of zero personal growth followed. Although it was hard when he left me, I see very clearly today that I could never be who I am if I still had the job in that company. Also, I would never be who I am if I stayed at the ministry. Comfortable life, that's what I would have had but I would never know people I call friends today. And I am grateful for this. For people who spend days with me, chat with me, go out with me on adventures or just for a coffee or an ice cream, discuss things with me about what we do or about life and world in general, ... <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWNbiR3kFzyucq1FHL385Blxvd8Nlcz68FZoBWa_wBKrZeA_ivapwq_Wn-3gN2Ts_LazSUV2qcuAriTmRZTaBN3-sOk3qTaRHHqKGel-hNDsoLNfq6NLgcQYbFuRiuHwqcr-emZjN7fbj6/s1600/Slika1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="897" data-original-width="1600" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWNbiR3kFzyucq1FHL385Blxvd8Nlcz68FZoBWa_wBKrZeA_ivapwq_Wn-3gN2Ts_LazSUV2qcuAriTmRZTaBN3-sOk3qTaRHHqKGel-hNDsoLNfq6NLgcQYbFuRiuHwqcr-emZjN7fbj6/s640/Slika1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8LoKrp6lkkjSmCKirlftX3Sw4KRdHlprAUM832Q4dYj6DvJuquqnqMEEWtpdEAKUW24H3NIG1gb1zLy5SzWElD_mxiIFO2XMa1BIqcBYgDt-7v5svekyXZ1P3UpXOIHhF-0HFsLLPbHH/s1600/Slika3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="897" data-original-width="1600" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw8LoKrp6lkkjSmCKirlftX3Sw4KRdHlprAUM832Q4dYj6DvJuquqnqMEEWtpdEAKUW24H3NIG1gb1zLy5SzWElD_mxiIFO2XMa1BIqcBYgDt-7v5svekyXZ1P3UpXOIHhF-0HFsLLPbHH/s640/Slika3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPm2Lr0vifOk8WX0HMWg8Ti1ZZnNgmFrBT_BDMCCOWeROZwwzcnvBXpt4f8YuHO3wnpz-saY9yOL1JS3V0RCO0YLXjc39jRuQ6qVTNOydEON9n6WJEC5EtkUwwR_JiRtieKKcxAFVgCJS9/s1600/Slika2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="897" data-original-width="1600" height="359" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPm2Lr0vifOk8WX0HMWg8Ti1ZZnNgmFrBT_BDMCCOWeROZwwzcnvBXpt4f8YuHO3wnpz-saY9yOL1JS3V0RCO0YLXjc39jRuQ6qVTNOydEON9n6WJEC5EtkUwwR_JiRtieKKcxAFVgCJS9/s640/Slika2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Yesterday I spent a day with one of such friends. He also works as a guide, and this time it was me who was guided by him. He led, I followed. He showed me his hometown, the places where he spends most of his free time. There were the waterfalls, the coldness of the forest through which we walked, the ideas which we exchanged, the stories he told. And of course, deserved ice cream at the end of our trek. Before we said goodbye to each other, we sat on the grass on top of the hillock above his hometown and made plans for our next joint adventure. What a wonderful day it was! Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-48972675760803142132017-08-01T20:26:00.000+02:002017-08-01T20:26:52.453+02:00Garden goodnessFor quite some years I kept receiving the mail of another man here in our village, because he has the same house number as I have it (although the name of the street is, of course, not the same). Ž knew who this man was, so when he stopped at the local cafe for the coffee, he also gave him his mail. And at the same time I received mine. Then, luckily, we got a new postman. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWVXMuFwE-3kCxJMdVRIkfV5jIyBY4o7COVhm5EHQm4aNPZh0Tc3vYmWhmt-yqdwTHPnpYyc_pXDMsp-_LJR7GCeNUYZ5d0UBH1m9atcgLF5dEljvqtPhYt8hXap2PsMjGT4h2uJJGeArZ/s1600/Cebula.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWVXMuFwE-3kCxJMdVRIkfV5jIyBY4o7COVhm5EHQm4aNPZh0Tc3vYmWhmt-yqdwTHPnpYyc_pXDMsp-_LJR7GCeNUYZ5d0UBH1m9atcgLF5dEljvqtPhYt8hXap2PsMjGT4h2uJJGeArZ/s640/Cebula.jpg" width="640" height="359" data-original-width="1024" data-original-height="574" /></a></div>This man who was receiving my mail is my father's age but over the years we became colleagues. By coincidence he offered us to have our vegetable garden near his house this year. We accepted. The location is a little bit farther than the previous one but it is far more pleasant and easier to keep the garden neat. Last year slugs did their proper job and ate almost half of the vegetables and berries. This year we don't have this problem. Usually we didn't have to water the vegetables but the soil in this garden is a little bit different. Though, the underground water is just a couple of meters from the garden itself and the watering system is in these days, when it is really hot, in permanent use. <br />
<br />
Abundance, that's how I would describe our garden this year. Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-73275250498907212572017-07-30T20:37:00.000+02:002017-07-30T20:37:38.669+02:00On duty<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Not only being a city guide in Ljubljana, in the National Museum of Slovenia and in the Ljubljana Marsh, I also passed the tests this spring to become a tourist guide in Vrhnika, a smaller town about half an hour’s drive from Ljubljana. Our greatest writer and dramatist Ivan Cankar was born there and, of course, most of what we tell to those who want to listen, is about his life. We, the guides, are also on duty in the so called Ivan Cankar’s commemorative house, called like that because he was not born in it but in the house which had stood there before. That house was burnt to the ground 138 years ago when Ivan Cankar was 3 years old. </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLIPSFnL0QEDMXjZ7Hyda2gEv6v7v9O54vyaTZ-RgPzwqP02hJPs1uau_uYB__BQRUmtt6ufLSAFNY_rpbn02vCYWEqy6CMkAi_lGPomY3_E1BBVJUPlLXn_3qhAEeEIvXLibpDf81tmPt/s1600/IMG_2353.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1053" data-original-width="1600" height="421" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLIPSFnL0QEDMXjZ7Hyda2gEv6v7v9O54vyaTZ-RgPzwqP02hJPs1uau_uYB__BQRUmtt6ufLSAFNY_rpbn02vCYWEqy6CMkAi_lGPomY3_E1BBVJUPlLXn_3qhAEeEIvXLibpDf81tmPt/s640/IMG_2353.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, four hours on duty (only about a week in a month) brings me that peace that I needed so much. My life has been a real chaos for about five years. It seems that I’ve been wandering aimlessly through my life all this time, trying to find the right place to fit in. And being there, showing the visitors the house and explaining them about the life of our greatest writer, feels good. I can share my knowledge with others and this feels so good, as it brings the rhythm back into my life. I guess that also driving slowly through the countryside to reach Vrhnika from my home adds to this.</span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What I also found in Vrhnika are new colleagues, new friends, people who “speak” the same language as me. Could I ask for more?</span></div>
</div>
Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-27478030121578578232017-07-29T22:21:00.000+02:002017-07-29T22:23:08.321+02:00It feels right<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">It's been on my mind for quite a while - it feels right to start writing this blog again. Maybe by doing this I will see that life is in fact beautiful even if there have been so many downfalls in the recent years. Documenting life with photos is something else than writing about it without them. So …</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1EJ9auhFuaBfHgEq7e6hqc0xySSEe8szz7KoPQEEdLCrbMqZfWdZ5iQsNDOM-0pOTOIBBn0wR0k4yAP8J4SndilpsxXPvzZNqg5VTdz-SZ4va3rH5izMzR5xyuhq2BjgXUyGvet2d4uTY/s1600/IMG_2608.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="682" data-original-width="1024" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1EJ9auhFuaBfHgEq7e6hqc0xySSEe8szz7KoPQEEdLCrbMqZfWdZ5iQsNDOM-0pOTOIBBn0wR0k4yAP8J4SndilpsxXPvzZNqg5VTdz-SZ4va3rH5izMzR5xyuhq2BjgXUyGvet2d4uTY/s640/IMG_2608.JPG" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><br />
</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">I've found out that I can't tell much about what has been happening in my life since I lost my job five years ago. There was a lot of sadness, days and days of searching the right path and struggling with everyday problems like paying the bills, but eventually it seems that I can just cope with what I am served on the life's plate every day. And I will tell you in my next post what I've been doing lately that's bringing me some peace of mind and soul. </span></div>
Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-38698508359631548322016-01-19T08:05:00.003+01:002016-01-19T08:06:31.034+01:00IWC 2016<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Also this
January I was present at the International Waterfowl Count, as always. I
started to count the birds already on Friday because I was busy on Saturday
morning and that afternoon I had to show how we do it to two other girls.</span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0P2nOYEhuK_q7n3aiC9M9KguOjsm1E7bdoGZgYE1eempYuI47VPCrd01fKT9d4MW3R_G3bdGbcmj7HjGASO5aWKegFdZAkAoS8Wal3oKbTQncUpPZnG81vkuj-ceD26mC6GdxJp4TixIZ/s1600/IMG_2251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0P2nOYEhuK_q7n3aiC9M9KguOjsm1E7bdoGZgYE1eempYuI47VPCrd01fKT9d4MW3R_G3bdGbcmj7HjGASO5aWKegFdZAkAoS8Wal3oKbTQncUpPZnG81vkuj-ceD26mC6GdxJp4TixIZ/s640/IMG_2251.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Sava Bohinjka river</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5KMqKsI5mu6vm5kqRMuKp1a4dhDs7-85NaM9_E7Pwmb_RLMfbb7rGi68DzwzMTodDwWsAZiH6bRq_sxCfaaT68MsTZ4XsTGK2S8MyRjRMo4M2b7molfzi0hvWLSES4KDOyI18ZVlfQLs/s1600/IMG_2270.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH5KMqKsI5mu6vm5kqRMuKp1a4dhDs7-85NaM9_E7Pwmb_RLMfbb7rGi68DzwzMTodDwWsAZiH6bRq_sxCfaaT68MsTZ4XsTGK2S8MyRjRMo4M2b7molfzi0hvWLSES4KDOyI18ZVlfQLs/s640/IMG_2270.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wouldn't mind living in a house like this.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">I am
always happy when I drive to the Gorenjska region in the NW of the country, and
so it was also this time. I chose to go there on Sunday, when a nice weather
was promised, and indeed we had clear sky and sun shining bright on us. But …
it was very cold. -7 °C might not be cold for someone from Finland where it’s
around -30 at the moment but it is for us after such a mild autumn and
beginning of the winter. No snow – happy me! It is much easier to walk those 4
km one way through the woods along the river if there’s no snow. I counted no
less than 15 dippers this year, almost half of them were singing. Great! I have
never heard anything like this before. And again, happy me! </span></div>
Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-77504569767321108782016-01-16T20:47:00.000+01:002016-01-16T20:47:46.352+01:00The white thread<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">It is
interesting that I usually make lace or create other kinds of things in autumn
and winter, but when spring comes, I just focus on other things in life. When
days get longer and it gets warmer outside, I can’t sit at home, making lace. Last
October I skipped my lace-making course because I could not afford it. Besides
some of the Tuesday evenings were reserved for interesting lectures in the City
Museum in Ljubljana. Luckily I found a group of lace-makers later, and although all of
them are retired, they decided to let me join them. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBp0xMAvYDjEzE_fKcu8jWNgbf3wdpuX-QphMRaIdDbJyxUFHcjnl2SAS9VlZ-h4ztIAgN4fOjQR_nPNGVHAAc3DP2A68MSnLKBy4JrJswlesZSrMBGA9lpViKb50pLC__LBbltSdbneFk/s1600/Cipka_BV.JPG" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBp0xMAvYDjEzE_fKcu8jWNgbf3wdpuX-QphMRaIdDbJyxUFHcjnl2SAS9VlZ-h4ztIAgN4fOjQR_nPNGVHAAc3DP2A68MSnLKBy4JrJswlesZSrMBGA9lpViKb50pLC__LBbltSdbneFk/s640/Cipka_BV.JPG" width="640" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">So, I finished a
napkin that I had started to make in 2014 (pictured), tried to make one in the Italian
lace technique (I still work on it) and made a few earrings. I got a commission
for another two pairs of earrings in different colors, which is a good start
for my future projects. I have lots of plans for this year regarding lace-making
but most of all, there’s still lots of work to be done, so that these plans,
eventually, won’t just stay in my head or on paper. Besides, spring will be here in no time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-14627643423412781012016-01-12T18:24:00.000+01:002016-01-12T18:26:33.988+01:00Last year<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I actually don't have a good reason for being quiet for so long in this space, as in fact many things happened during this year while “I was gone”. It’s true that I am a little bit tired of being unemployed for such a long time; this somehow takes a toll of the soul. I have never lived with less, but somehow life isn’t as bad as it could be. I can just keep my fingers crossed that it won’t get worse. To tell the truth, I have asked myself many times in the last months: "What is the meaning of my life?"<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg7KeDpkuTgBm8IO_l7UdAuRP-KXHsyvCSuwf9frPO_OV-FR1AVedBNT6BJoq_xMp7tNLbxk_2YoL2pc-cvWd7A87FRwcMSyxEsTw9buzulpJzUZHOiUP6Z7L9i1YB96qY5q1qFDviGzU9/s1600/Triglav_BV.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg7KeDpkuTgBm8IO_l7UdAuRP-KXHsyvCSuwf9frPO_OV-FR1AVedBNT6BJoq_xMp7tNLbxk_2YoL2pc-cvWd7A87FRwcMSyxEsTw9buzulpJzUZHOiUP6Z7L9i1YB96qY5q1qFDviGzU9/s640/Triglav_BV.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small; text-align: start;">Triglav, our highest mountain, from the hill above the Ljubljana Marshes.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">2015 was a year of many changes. I became a local tourist guide, although I will start guiding tourists in Ljubljana no sooner than in spring this year. But … I guided quite many school groups around the Ljubljana Marshes, met many new people, found some new friends, learned lots (and lots and lots) of new things, shared my knowledge with others. I could say that it was a year of communication and lots of new people in my life. I am turning my back to those who don’t need me and I am embracing those who do. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">I know that 2016 will be a busy year. That’s why I am so grateful for the peaceful days at the moment and I try to spend them where I’m always happy – above the clouds with the view on the mountains. </span></div>
Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-55590471235259657202016-01-11T19:45:00.001+01:002016-01-11T19:45:56.239+01:00To have what we wish for<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #0b5394;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">Con el tiempo
supo, además, que había muchas personas que tenían menos de lo que querían y
podían cuidar.</span></span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #0b5394; font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;"><i>Laura y el
corazon de las cosas</i> by <i>Lorenzo Silva</i></span></blockquote>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">I started to
learn Spanish language quite some time ago but my progress is very slow. Mostly
because I am lazy. I should put more effort into learning, I know. The procrastination doesn’t take me very far and it never will.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US;">Yesterday Ž and
I took a short walk along the Ljubljanica river. Celebrating our 11<sup>th</sup>
anniversary of being together and the promise of a bad weather today brought us
to the river banks in the old part of the city. We also spotted a very rare
Bahama’s duck there, that had most probably escaped from someone’s pond. I
suggested that we have a cup of coffee to round our “trip”, so we stopped in
the nearest café, called Krakovc (named after a district called Krakovo). A lovely
place, though empty at that time, Spanish music, tapas and Spanish beers. I was
surprised, really, as the name of the café would suggest the local offer. Later I
heard the waitress speaking Spanish on the phone so I asked her where she came
from. Argentina, was her answer, so I had a short chat with her. I could see that
her face brightened and a smile showed on her face. I am sure that I made her
day. And for sure she made mine a little bit happier. Besides, I have another
story to tell. But most of all, I promised myself to take Spanish language a little
bit more serious, it won't do me any harm if I try harder. Because then I will have
a little bit more of that what I wish to have. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-8447199413854146182016-01-10T20:07:00.001+01:002016-01-10T20:07:09.467+01:00A decision<div class="MsoNormal">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif; font-size: 10pt; line-height: 107%;">I’ve been thinking about this blog of mine quite a lot lately. What to do with it? Should I continue writing it in English or in Slovenian or just quit writing it completely. The other day, though, I read a few posts I had written years ago and it struck me that I don't remember some of the events. So, I decided to continue writing my blog. Sharing good things and also sometimes bad ones is something that makes my life richer, and also others might find something “useful” in my posts. I also decided to continue writing it in English. At least for now. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-43955680181612137942015-06-29T22:15:00.001+02:002015-06-29T22:15:52.279+02:00How are you doing? It's been a long time ... and everything is still the same. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDbpaKLFfva9kjIJFViojO0mgx0ExD0jWtaI_S-EnPkaWrDPTaEh9PLPEdNGJ7ujZKTcf3YiNVkTsNcoH0OifYQ3OlaSDR0Xc3a5cZFuTo_XbF7GrvRYyLdIv9mAqbksUrLP-6bjpQEisE/s1600/IMG_7827.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDbpaKLFfva9kjIJFViojO0mgx0ExD0jWtaI_S-EnPkaWrDPTaEh9PLPEdNGJ7ujZKTcf3YiNVkTsNcoH0OifYQ3OlaSDR0Xc3a5cZFuTo_XbF7GrvRYyLdIv9mAqbksUrLP-6bjpQEisE/s640/IMG_7827.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
Also the paths I take.Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-45158351729883820642014-11-13T11:20:00.001+01:002014-11-13T11:21:19.308+01:00Goodbye, Feliks!He’s been gone since the last day of summer, I fed him the last time on 21st September. The next day he disappeared and never came back. He was seven years old. Of course I cried, not only once. Last year we took him to the vet but those girls couldn’t help him because he evolved into a wild cat for those couple of hours while we were at the clinic. The vet speculated that he had a cancer in his nose though he was far from a house cat, he was muscular and fit. Pikec didn’t like him but tolerated him anyway because I fed them both. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2VoVL4HjwRtI02VOmzvF561PFzdML7aFHt563w-hmz2e6tBl6vp7DkM94qKUnmarDTprELBj5ilc1g9pJ8RLnkREoRFnfXVy8Hmc_PQJsvx5-WNsVEe5rTVehnsoROTvIBJjgRhmFdmYx/s1600/Feliks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2VoVL4HjwRtI02VOmzvF561PFzdML7aFHt563w-hmz2e6tBl6vp7DkM94qKUnmarDTprELBj5ilc1g9pJ8RLnkREoRFnfXVy8Hmc_PQJsvx5-WNsVEe5rTVehnsoROTvIBJjgRhmFdmYx/s640/Feliks.jpg" /></a></div>Feliks was exactly like the cat from the ad for the Felix cat food, hence his name. One day he appeared at my door and stayed since. He was just as nice and friendly cat as Kaj, who disappeared in 2010 while we were on vacation. Today I know who took him away or even killed him – our neighbor. When we came home from vacation then Feliks’s fur was completely black from dirt and he was obviously tortured – he didn’t come close for more than a year although he always ate food that I offered him. Feliks survived but most didn’t. Also Pikec’s and Kaj’s mom was killed by our neighbor. I just wish that each of these cats who disappear from my yard doesn’t suffer. <br />
<br />
Only Pikec is left now. And each time I see him I fondle him also for all those cats which are gone. I miss you, Feliks.Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-57364140791735476962014-09-19T15:49:00.001+02:002014-09-19T15:49:55.742+02:00Dear Scots,I was sorry to hear that you decided against the independence of Scotland. Money rules and pensioners make decisions, and maybe they won’t be even here tomorrow! Your time has obvisously not come yet…<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdMipEa6y77a0K_iFWnUU25vtnh2rz9GBrIBYd4kRPH6-tr-EMJOULpjDflG_tQrWJWhcL-HHV8fyen0eMcbMdiHGf7WLxC5F4tCGdq4Qu7Do-AU8jOqlomL-19dfkRgazPsF48e4QVDa-/s1600/Skotska.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdMipEa6y77a0K_iFWnUU25vtnh2rz9GBrIBYd4kRPH6-tr-EMJOULpjDflG_tQrWJWhcL-HHV8fyen0eMcbMdiHGf7WLxC5F4tCGdq4Qu7Do-AU8jOqlomL-19dfkRgazPsF48e4QVDa-/s640/Skotska.jpg" /></a></div>I know a huge courage is needed for changes in life. <br />
Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-86494034932851194662014-09-18T11:20:00.002+02:002014-09-18T11:20:41.685+02:00From the garden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6bNQwH5zIWm8TR1VUOKIe_zMJqimlI4lgCssNI_e070drrQq5gAhTWvGMRsV8NDh_0K_qiqjHlXdkJhzRhOZrQAKGlRNYRWInPFfTJkLoBFUsXCI019MAivu5xlicsz72Mno-FJWOaTy/s1600/Buce.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe6bNQwH5zIWm8TR1VUOKIe_zMJqimlI4lgCssNI_e070drrQq5gAhTWvGMRsV8NDh_0K_qiqjHlXdkJhzRhOZrQAKGlRNYRWInPFfTJkLoBFUsXCI019MAivu5xlicsz72Mno-FJWOaTy/s640/Buce.jpg" /></a></div>At least seven of such lovely pumpkins were eaten by slugs this year. I don’t count all the salad that they had eaten. A real pest, I tell you and it is very hard to fight them. I don’t kill them, so maybe they come back ... I hope that winter will be very cold and that the weather next spring will be fatal for them, otherwise we will have to find some other way to get rid of them. It takes absolutely too much time to pick them every day. The other day I found more than five of them in one single pumpkin flower! It is nothing special if I pick hundred of them on a single day. <br />
<br />
I know that one kind of duck eats them (some say that chicken, too) but with having these comes another worry as they eat vegetables, too. We would need a fence and most probably a dog to guard them from foxes. We are actually caught in a vicious circle ...Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-48204250674978159292014-09-16T18:21:00.000+02:002014-09-16T18:21:27.170+02:00RobberyIt is hard to believe that we have such wet weather this summer. Rain, rain, rain. I didn’t say bad weather because in a way I liked it; I had an essay to write. Though, on the other hand I wished so much to go to the mountains a few more times; now it keeps snowing up there. If we won’t have an Indian summer this autumn, so that snow will melt, I can say farewell dear mountains at this very moment. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4CLqFUsC4LW3T2qjh_ntLvJEnT7nXlre6yUOBhs0pslL4ECfbaQNm1lQm8vDKNwmGOonSM6_YbwJU3uufFVeR-FfbatGjl75OotnACKRrLVCOIaD3S5VBd9B8Byc1jVgq2IT7zAK7RoKa/s1600/Cebele_1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4CLqFUsC4LW3T2qjh_ntLvJEnT7nXlre6yUOBhs0pslL4ECfbaQNm1lQm8vDKNwmGOonSM6_YbwJU3uufFVeR-FfbatGjl75OotnACKRrLVCOIaD3S5VBd9B8Byc1jVgq2IT7zAK7RoKa/s640/Cebele_1.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWYf9CPNmAQgLem_7JiE-oSe5WzHdCKDBYIxjIGw42xUz3_U_4BrzoFOk5mUTdJH5LTpGgb7Qt7emjpcrhgaHtE04Fjng3YbzeCnNFGPu8DbLeOYvTIUpyaSwTNJhszLSH2lkXXt9VX63s/s1600/Cebele_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWYf9CPNmAQgLem_7JiE-oSe5WzHdCKDBYIxjIGw42xUz3_U_4BrzoFOk5mUTdJH5LTpGgb7Qt7emjpcrhgaHtE04Fjng3YbzeCnNFGPu8DbLeOYvTIUpyaSwTNJhszLSH2lkXXt9VX63s/s640/Cebele_2.jpg" /></a></div>Wet weather is also toilful for the bees. There’s a lack of food for them and illnesses take a huge toll among them. Well, the lack of food caused that the small hive on my balcony was a victim of robbery. Our bees had hive full of honey and obviously some alien and hungry bees smelled it. Too many bees died in just half an hour. Luckily I was at home, so that I could close the hive before all were killed. I took them to my cousin, who is a beekeeper, too. I almost closed the entrance of the other two hives, so that the bees can easier defend their hive from alien bees. <br />
<br />
A sad story indeed. And I found out that it is really difficult to make a good photo of bees …<br />
Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-55143422634274583092014-09-08T10:17:00.002+02:002014-09-08T12:49:41.760+02:00BeesEach beekeeper in Slovenia will tell you that this season is the worst in the last 40 years. Dad has seven beehives and beside this also one little family of bees that found its place on the balcony of my house. I had persuaded him that bees would be happier here than at his home because here they had more food than in the city where he lives (although his home is only about 6 km drive from here where I live). And indeed, the bees filled up the cells of the honeycombs very quickly. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQMf6tcVwGK4QoptsXtKp-y6XFLOT5FrRRWAemYTDadzFqf1s_7w0L_Xeyowl3efF_749nLKKzJsVr1Em8KXpKlTaLcW-m0j0L2Kn1S3cKCKnLPVMM9vXWSIa2L7nOaGil9xZd4q-Y-QC/s1600/CebelePanj.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioQMf6tcVwGK4QoptsXtKp-y6XFLOT5FrRRWAemYTDadzFqf1s_7w0L_Xeyowl3efF_749nLKKzJsVr1Em8KXpKlTaLcW-m0j0L2Kn1S3cKCKnLPVMM9vXWSIa2L7nOaGil9xZd4q-Y-QC/s640/CebelePanj.JPG" /></a></div>So, about ten days ago Ž persuaded my dad to bring another two hives onto my balcony because the meteorologists kept promising some nice weather last week. But it was far from that. I hope that the bees had time to bring enough food into their hives in three sunny days before this rainy week, so that they at least won’t be hungry before we give them the sugar solution. This year dad extracted exactly zero kilograms of honey.<br />
<br />
I’ve heard many reproaches lately that I still don’t have my own bees. But sometimes it is wise to wait a little bit longer. Maybe next year I will be able to show you my own hives and eat honey produced by my own bees, who knows?<br />
Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-60792209952952250142014-09-04T17:20:00.000+02:002014-09-08T12:53:50.554+02:00A countess If you thought that I was wandering somewhere in the mountains these days, you were wrong. I admit, I stayed at home on one of the most beautiful days this summer, and I am sorry that I did. But an event that followed was a main reason for this.<br />
<br />
I’ve told you already about <a href="http://milk-and-berries.blogspot.com/2014/04/you-would-be-mine.html">M</a>. By coincidence we came across each other three more times. I admit that it was quite pleasant in his company, talking with him about all sorts of things. The last time when I stumbled upon him (I was selling the apple juice at the ecological market for my colleague) he asked me if I would play a countess, his “wife”, at the weddings in one of the Slovenian <a href="http://sl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grad_Oto%C4%8Dec">castles</a>. I said yes. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQKeF-TZDBfubCkHWUb_2EEXEUkyBsqScFsRTZxB3GKuW7yn_a4dPduPPJC5c-Ic4hC1uyz_HK1qR1vFqnYJOPC0G-_rJF56QnNHDwJUYq_NIZ558pWIZsEVpLAxcptgkumVjxg5nVGX5j/s1600/Otocec1+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQKeF-TZDBfubCkHWUb_2EEXEUkyBsqScFsRTZxB3GKuW7yn_a4dPduPPJC5c-Ic4hC1uyz_HK1qR1vFqnYJOPC0G-_rJF56QnNHDwJUYq_NIZ558pWIZsEVpLAxcptgkumVjxg5nVGX5j/s640/Otocec1+(2).JPG" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF-vByzy7grAYPNseTuoZTEPJ7s8huQIPtnnIXtmF0YPdgHeXPOnuF8He8o_g4ds3R6VRkGtTdp-R5mHO9XRaqXt1-klA17R0B0rkGm_gZ4q_6JzgFLUFf_PCnQbhjVgcDxVtJEW-Nw0KE/s1600/Otocec1+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF-vByzy7grAYPNseTuoZTEPJ7s8huQIPtnnIXtmF0YPdgHeXPOnuF8He8o_g4ds3R6VRkGtTdp-R5mHO9XRaqXt1-klA17R0B0rkGm_gZ4q_6JzgFLUFf_PCnQbhjVgcDxVtJEW-Nw0KE/s640/Otocec1+(1).JPG" /></a></div>And so I did. I was nervous because I had to do my “talking” part of the show, too. As “my husband” had to play a major role in one of the other castles that afternoon, I had to carry the second part of one of the weddings all by myself. It wasn’t easy but I managed to accomplish my task almost perfectly. It will be easier the next time; if there is any next time at all as the wedding season is practically over.<br />
<br />
It was interesting to see how different the wedding couples are. The first couple was young and a little bit afraid, and the second one was rich and quite arrogant. Though, I hope they all will be happy in their lives. I was glad to take my dress off me after the weddings; I had to wear three layers – a dress, a sleeveless dress over it and a mantle with fur collar over this last one, while the temperature was over 25 degrees C. Unfortunatelly I have no photos of myself in this costume. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrZbUTBDkxBZPmya_JVTvlmDiClIRPj1NDGS2Mh5x01MSYTzsB1m9kUgSSDEHwkPcIc6lBxwUYWE6Lz9h6iSGCGeNi0CScqB952ayafrg3E1PVJJs2lXjblBRsRnOE3QB4TaUrCr16TnMH/s1600/BaVil.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrZbUTBDkxBZPmya_JVTvlmDiClIRPj1NDGS2Mh5x01MSYTzsB1m9kUgSSDEHwkPcIc6lBxwUYWE6Lz9h6iSGCGeNi0CScqB952ayafrg3E1PVJJs2lXjblBRsRnOE3QB4TaUrCr16TnMH/s640/BaVil.JPG" /></a></div>My new experience ended well and one of my wishes, to wear a costume like the one I was wearing last Saturday, also came true. Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-34985260589134481162014-08-25T12:44:00.000+02:002014-08-25T12:44:38.521+02:00Vrh nad PeskiI was in that area before, last year, and that evening Ž called the rescuers because I hadn’t come home before evening. This year I told him that I would be home in the evening, for sure not before, and I also sent him a few messages during my walks on the paths where some of the fiercest battles during the I. World War took place. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiW_DflZDuOQBrP1mKDHpce9qngjXA0X4WEVl7L2GJ61-AmX4h0aIG5v6ZeALDwqrzIrC_jCf1QIvn_IArnIGLtc2B9pJ0-kcJQT1VdY2L-iQW2w21436V1NLpfFZNdFqf5V5l55j287E_/s1600/Peski0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiW_DflZDuOQBrP1mKDHpce9qngjXA0X4WEVl7L2GJ61-AmX4h0aIG5v6ZeALDwqrzIrC_jCf1QIvn_IArnIGLtc2B9pJ0-kcJQT1VdY2L-iQW2w21436V1NLpfFZNdFqf5V5l55j287E_/s640/Peski0.jpg" /></a></div>Under the mountain called Vrh nad Peski (a rough translation of this name would be The Peak above the Sands) huts for the soldiers were built, and the remnants of the wood could still be seen although it is mostly buried under the sand and rocks. Pieces of shells lie everywhere as well as empty cans and other, sometimes not recognizable objects. On the path under the peak of my final destination were also a few bullets. Some still whole, some smashed. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEvYKNPi3Aaa72BFRIJX6M57WzFdYzSgJKFtCjRNFIoxPZE-miowG2nx9zpwP87_ix9N9lRISNJpOY69A_izsqYCRh0TPntQXo2HTBb1CemEVPodCxK4zBtUB2ymGahI81d4Cgb5iRw4ZY/s1600/Peski7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEvYKNPi3Aaa72BFRIJX6M57WzFdYzSgJKFtCjRNFIoxPZE-miowG2nx9zpwP87_ix9N9lRISNJpOY69A_izsqYCRh0TPntQXo2HTBb1CemEVPodCxK4zBtUB2ymGahI81d4Cgb5iRw4ZY/s640/Peski7.jpg" /></a></div>On the other side of the mountain used to be a huge graveyard; most bodies were later exhumed and buried in the valley. On my path I could also see numerous human bones. People carry these things home, therefore I was lucky to find some bullets at all; I don’t dare to pick one stone and take it home, yet anything made by human. Let those things lie there; I believe that’s where they belong. After all, they are covered with human blood.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wbiqwfSXZcjiiRh1Mu3QlZEjRxAPtBOJzSR6KKtt86cOjhCW7iHUung3UkxTQXGzSRZ5k5Z4tpEn7P_xoK7-8-Q044INsBvlA6mKYzkl5FmQeN2zsGKoc4URvN11DBAt3DZQ77mdxLCI/s1600/Peski1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-wbiqwfSXZcjiiRh1Mu3QlZEjRxAPtBOJzSR6KKtt86cOjhCW7iHUung3UkxTQXGzSRZ5k5Z4tpEn7P_xoK7-8-Q044INsBvlA6mKYzkl5FmQeN2zsGKoc4URvN11DBAt3DZQ77mdxLCI/s640/Peski1.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwCnJfpWWGBUOV3qxRp0M5raLRP3osNIiExACmMLLkcXSfiGDNN_hGDAlIWZ4z4Y6sgrQZuNMaMqvezq2jJHv8cFJnb9qnBQcg-NyGvnq1qWzIQ5ZW10D7N69ctgoNO12aaPdZRidu-J01/s1600/Peski2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwCnJfpWWGBUOV3qxRp0M5raLRP3osNIiExACmMLLkcXSfiGDNN_hGDAlIWZ4z4Y6sgrQZuNMaMqvezq2jJHv8cFJnb9qnBQcg-NyGvnq1qWzIQ5ZW10D7N69ctgoNO12aaPdZRidu-J01/s640/Peski2.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswUQfpqtB6kJ2BpRpCZdBw5fzgVLihAApjEcaQ_MjcUZKR7KaRqtMm5FzWvwsv6pQSq4OHnQ1OZg31RVzQ9LAqjRT-Zh4O63HVK7syEHnAP7YGHtBz5SzD96E9Pui1Cq2m-IHFb75_XJV/s1600/Peski3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiswUQfpqtB6kJ2BpRpCZdBw5fzgVLihAApjEcaQ_MjcUZKR7KaRqtMm5FzWvwsv6pQSq4OHnQ1OZg31RVzQ9LAqjRT-Zh4O63HVK7syEHnAP7YGHtBz5SzD96E9Pui1Cq2m-IHFb75_XJV/s640/Peski3.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh539Um_ZKpKG830zQFVp_AP0ZGoqAHXHIIZb4Z1noSATCVmNj6o1YaZNy8EKsZyGEf8G32W6dIJqfUYm5CnDDCo0uKnBNKox7VsV-ieRiDlbdvp9VE9zX9MAgdA2TZIoIWb_JGTu3VOWDw/s1600/Peski5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh539Um_ZKpKG830zQFVp_AP0ZGoqAHXHIIZb4Z1noSATCVmNj6o1YaZNy8EKsZyGEf8G32W6dIJqfUYm5CnDDCo0uKnBNKox7VsV-ieRiDlbdvp9VE9zX9MAgdA2TZIoIWb_JGTu3VOWDw/s640/Peski5.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxR1D4lpks3B-A9px20TL7zEzoNoJj7C6uV6tMMAM2EcHVmuE-EEIN6YT1YDIkk1-Kn1x3BvRIhE2xkQDJhXcxff_zKic6gHvNgxctxnhIe4kmKboRj99c5kz-KhxyAUiRJjBrplIwkpNR/s1600/Peski6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxR1D4lpks3B-A9px20TL7zEzoNoJj7C6uV6tMMAM2EcHVmuE-EEIN6YT1YDIkk1-Kn1x3BvRIhE2xkQDJhXcxff_zKic6gHvNgxctxnhIe4kmKboRj99c5kz-KhxyAUiRJjBrplIwkpNR/s640/Peski6.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSUTlB2iK0c6EDVF2Re9fdfKdJeLFFvTwELi3JboLwhC400H5PsfbxKiU9MdMMe7led01SjgguT7iJ4ivYePSMq0qkXBkgm_OJfrFd0ae0284z3JbG4OKvtbpSgaPmjd5BmAk-0K4Vwcg0/s1600/Peski8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSUTlB2iK0c6EDVF2Re9fdfKdJeLFFvTwELi3JboLwhC400H5PsfbxKiU9MdMMe7led01SjgguT7iJ4ivYePSMq0qkXBkgm_OJfrFd0ae0284z3JbG4OKvtbpSgaPmjd5BmAk-0K4Vwcg0/s640/Peski8.jpg" /></a></div>To me the whole area looked like a mockery of nature, because alpine flowers were growing everywhere. There was at least one for every soldier who had had to be there involuntarly and at least ten of them for every soldier who had died on those steep slopes. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFlC7FCgx80CFnn3MQdH1bIreGjKSXORnWIMa2IcoGsmbK4GAlrf962GekKWmVKQwjlfdRjpnamq2GZJiOwKbMtVZvAlKe5Ivp7BPx9FLhHP0QGoDoZHONTgNTn4Nr3B3oKTWC1lsvIA2T/s1600/Peski11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFlC7FCgx80CFnn3MQdH1bIreGjKSXORnWIMa2IcoGsmbK4GAlrf962GekKWmVKQwjlfdRjpnamq2GZJiOwKbMtVZvAlKe5Ivp7BPx9FLhHP0QGoDoZHONTgNTn4Nr3B3oKTWC1lsvIA2T/s640/Peski11.jpg" /></a></div>I hope to return to those places. Although it is not very pleasant to see all those remnants of the war, it is very beautiful there. And the view is magnificent, too; I could see all the way to the sea. Or one would brag: I could see all the way to Venice. Well, perhaps that city was Venice which I could see through my binoculars; who knows?Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5821947106825910770.post-77271202423025705182014-08-22T11:26:00.001+02:002014-08-22T11:26:46.553+02:00The happiest days in my life (part 2)<blockquote><span style="color: #073763;">I should have known. At your age, in a string of days the year is gone. But in that space of time, it takes so long. </span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;">~ How you’ve grown by 10,000 Maniacs</span><br />
<br />
</blockquote>And in fact, I called Adam one day from Finland and indeed, I traveled all that way to London (though, this was never the plan) where he waited for me on 22th August. It was also hard to believe that I had a chance to sleep in a home of an unknown person (Adam’s friend) in the center of London! <br />
<br />
The next day we drove to Derby to visit his mom Sandra and later on to Liverpool where I spent a few days with him, and of course, had those promised pancakes, too. While I was staying there I got to know a different life from the one that I lived at home. I felt alive! You know, Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields ... and lots of people telling me how lucky I was. Sure I was!<br />
<br />
I am only sorry that we didn’t end our relationship then, that August. Instead he came to visit me in Slovenia and I stayed with him in the UK over Christmas and a New Year. I came back home in tears. We just lived too far away from each other and we were too different to be happy together. But nevermind, with that single hug and one fleeting kiss he brought immense happiness into my life for just a moment. And that counts more than anything else that happened between us after that. <br />
<br />
I wonder what you’re doing today, Adam G. M. I hope that you are happy and that you have many good reasons to smile every single day of your life. Pinahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10920700366146517315noreply@blogger.com0