All posts by evas

About evas

A translator, interpreter and project manager, with hopes, fears and opinions just like anybody else. Here's a few: - I hope they never name a disease after me. - I hope I'm never to discover a sinkhole by stumbling into it on one of my trips. On a related note, I love birds but I fear they will be the death of me. Whenever I see a raptor up in the air I forget to watch where I'm going, hence my worries regarding sinkholes and their ilk. - I hope to make it to a hundred, under the condition I don't outlive my partner or my progeny. - In case there is reincarnation I would very much like be sent back in 2,000, 10,000 and a million years to see what the humanity and the planet have been up to. - I love people, animals and plants, and accordingly, I have friends, pets and a garden and I'm very proud of them all. - I honestly believe that, all things considered and kept in perspective, Slovenia is a great country and probably one of the best in the world to live in. - Apparently I have a much better memory than any of our politicians, and yes I vote - vindictively. - I haven't met many stupid people in my life and I'm not sure there are that many. Everybody's smart for something. But there sure are enough people out there who can act dumb convincingly and sometimes I feel they might be the smartest of us all. - The instant I heard about the Darwin awards I knew I was a serious contender. I'm the three Cs: curious, creative and clumsy. Best not left unattended :D

Petrology matters

– Why did Will Smith hit Chris Rock?

– Because he could.

Will Smith would NEVER have done what he did if it were The Rock instead of C-Rock yapping on that podium. But sadly, the Academy engaged the smaller Rock and Will Smith one-slap killed stand-up comedy as we knew it. And then they gave him an Oscar. He went home with the social media applauding him, ignoring how Chris Rock felt and blaming Jada for rolling her eyes so loudly. This is where we’re at, as far as gala events, freedom of speech and role models go. The new normal. What now?

Live from Slovenia: People queuing to have their balls and/or tits tattooed yellow and blue

While this seemingly unprovoked campaign of aggression against the Ukrainian people that Alec Baldwin started and Vladolf Putler continued was not exactly what we had in mind when we said enough with this corona shit already can we please move on to something new, it managed to achieve the impossible:

Bringing Slovenians together. Resigned to sticking to our bitter divisions until further notice, we suddenly found ourselves united in the belief that:

– Ukraine must be accepted into the European Union with immediate effect and retroactively made its founding member.

– As soon as this blows over, Ukraine needs to be installed as some sort of supreme king-president-patron saint of NATO, somehow. We haven’t worked out all the details yet.

– Ukrainians are the best. They make other nations proud. The bravest, coolest and inevitably, given the former, the hottest people of them all. They are the lesson in toughness, resilience, well-placed national pride and, apparently, the answer to the all-pervasive thirst that everybody needed. Now this is how you defend your country and win over everybody’s heart and all that it powers.

Continue reading Live from Slovenia: People queuing to have their balls and/or tits tattooed yellow and blue

Here’s to one crazy year

Remember when people were saying 2016/2017/2018/2019 was totally wtf? Oh well…

2020 showed its cards early enough. I quickly figured I should focus on work-related news and steer clear of social media. It takes social distancing to dodge corona, but it takes social-media abstinence to avoid insanity because it’s contagious as feck. Recently, when my curiosity got the better of me and made me look at our national news, a renowned gynaecologist was telling everybody that the corona vaccine was going to leave about two thirds of women infertile. I checked what our neighbours the Croatians were doing and it turned out that they had misplaced a whole offshore rig and had no idea where it went. Then I opened The Daily Mail and there was an ex‑SAS guy who ramboed his way through a bunch of terrorists in Kenya in 2019. Now, in testament to both his chivalry and intellect, our spec-ops hero chose to withhold his name from the public and use the family name of his celebrity fiancé instead, figuring the bad guys might be after revenge. And there was this lockdown-flouting gay orgy in Brussels that the police broke up and caught a conservative Hungarian MEP climbing down the drain in the process. None of these really threw me because it’s just the new normal.

You know what still managed to surprise me? Two things:

Continue reading Here’s to one crazy year

Doctor Typhoid Mario & Julija the Handless

First of all, a belated happy Brexit & Megxit to everyone. Also, I’m sorry to hear about Adele and hope she cranks out a few more generation-defining hits before going the Amy Winehouse way.

Well, Slovenia is between governments again and, different to the last time it happened, there’s barely any excitement about; the guy who got the most votes the first time around, but nobody wanted to form a coalition with him, will now have a crack at governing this thing and that’s about it. Our country is also beginning to tackle the corona scare and it’s a miracle it took this long, considering we have a border with Italy where the zombie apocalypse is already well underway. Needless to say, the media are pissing themselves with excitement and politicians are busy pretending to believe there’s anything they can do to put a damper on this mess. So, here’s a few more Snopes-type bits from the sunny side of the Alps before they shut down the internet.

Typhoid Mario, MD: Did a Slovenian doctor infect god knows how many of his patients and colleagues with corona?

Yes, that indeed happened, and you couldn’t find a more perfect illustration of our general attitude to the virus de jour, i.e. the old and the weak should watch out but it doesn’t concern the rest of us and we’ve got enough pensioners and hospital bed-blockers anyway. Unless you’re blissfully oblivious to dark undertones, you’ve probably noticed this ageism-meets-eugenics undercurrent in your country too. Anyway, a doc returned from his ski trip to Italy, went straight to work in a community health-care centre and a home for the elderly, generously sharing his viral load with the fit and the frail alike. Accounts differ on the details; some say the good doctor never even considered getting tested on his return from the European corona hotbed and others say he offered to get tested but his superior said ‘nah no worries’. It was when he started sweating and shaking while doing his rounds of dementia patients that the penny dropped. He got scooped up into quarantine and his whole health-care centre went into shutdown.

Continue reading Doctor Typhoid Mario & Julija the Handless

Like Snopes but for Slovenia? I don’t have a title yet

I get asked many questions about Slovenia, often of the “this must be fakenews, right?” variety. Let’s get a few of the safe-for-work ones out of the way before we move on to transgender doctors shagging man-killer dogs* and worse**.

*Yes you read that right.

**It does get worse.

Is the Prime Minister of Slovenia a former comedian and the President of Slovenia a former model?

Yes. Our Prime Minister, Mr. Marjan Šarec, used to be an actor, an impersonator and a comedian, and according to some he still is, (he’s alright, as far as politicians go). And our President, Mr. Borut Pahor used to be a model, and he’s never shy to flaunt his model credentials. Feel free to check out his Instagram @borutpahor. Look for beach selfies while you’re there because the dude keeps fit.

Did Slovenians recycle their failed Prime Minister and make him their President?

Yes. The abovementioned Borut Pahor used to be our PM and, fairly or not, he was widely perceived as a complete failure, as confirmed by a lost confidence vote that saw him through the door. Almost immediately*** after, he ran for president and won easily, which left some people fuming but most of us thought his new job was a much better fit. In all seriousness, Mr. Pahor comes across as a genuinely nice fellow who adores the spotlight and honestly tries to be the president of all Slovenians. And that’s a challenging job. No matter where you’re from, you probably think that your country is dangerously divided with no reconciliation in sight – welcome to the Slovenian experience! We’ve been living in this highly-polarised political reality for… well forever, actually, if you discount a few decades of Socialism when people hated each other more quietly. Anyway, all I can do is wish the best of luck to anyone who tries to preside over such a hot mess. As for the rest of us: relax, it’s going to be okay. Maybe.

***People winning all kinds of elections after a three-week campaign has become a regular occurrence in Slovenia.

Why doesn’t the Slovenian president look over a hundred years old?

Because he’s not. You’re thinking Boris Pahor the writer, who is a different fella altogether. Boris (not Borut) Pahor is one truly extraordinary individual. He fought the Nazis (who sent him to Dachau not once but twice), condemned the Commies and survived them both. He’s currently giving a hard time to Italian neo-fascists. If you need to be reminded of what war, Nazism and Fascism look like up close, do read his autobiographical novel Necropolis about his WWII interment. The guy has just turned 106 (that is: one-hundred-and-six years old). Sharp as a knife, he is well-informed on the current goings-ons, and maintains a keen interest in politics for reasons that don’t need to be explained (in case they do: the man has scars to prove what can happen when politics goes awry). As the result of his international recognition, undisputed courage and miraculously intact faculties, he gets to say whatever he likes, and people listen. And you thought you were special.

Is Melania Trump really Slovenian?

Apparently this gets asked. Yes, she most certainly is Slovenian, from Slovenia. She was born when Slovenia was still a part of the former Yugoslavia (that’s the Balkan country that imploded in a series of genocides, mass rapes and general butchery known as the Yugoslav Wars in the 90s, and proceeded to shatter into a number of smaller countries, among them Slovenia we know today). I remember Melania well from when she was embarking on her modelling career – I used to watch modelling contests and beauty pageants religiously as a kid – and yes, she is real, she is Slovenian, and she is from the town of Sevnica in Slovenia. She was born Melanija Knavs and later switched to a more internationally-friendly Melania Knauss, so maybe that’s where the confusion comes from. Oddly enough, her fellow Sevnica-born Tanja Pečar is the life-partner of our President Borut Pahor (the model dude from above). That’s right, at least two different countries have first ladies from the same small Slovenian town. And there may be others because the fact you were born in Sevnica is not necessarily one you care to advertise.

Continue reading Like Snopes but for Slovenia? I don’t have a title yet

I haven’t written much in a while

And guess I should figure out the new layout before I get started so here’s a picture of this wonderful creature I saw today.

Gorgeous black cock, full size
Gorgeous black cock

The breed is called Cemani. Originally Indonesian, it is so striking in appearance and demeanor it made me wonder if I should buy a farm just so I could watch these stunners strut about in the yard.

Gorgeous black cock, portrait
Gorgeous black cock, portrait

(Everything I care about seems to work; a real post coming up soon.)

I’m loving it

Slovenia doesn’t have a government and it’s been an absolute delight. Our last government stepped down in a huff; the boiling point being us voters having one good laugh too many at the prime minister’s expense. This prompted early elections, the results of which created such a hot mess that there’s a strong hope that nobody will be able to come up with a viable coalition. The most votes were scooped up by the party all the other parties swore they didn’t want anything to do with because its platform is “based on division and hate” (I suspect the irony is lost on them). The election losers’ general attitude to the results is that the voters got it wrong, but they’re not entirely oblivious to the fact that the voters might get it even more wrong next time. So, if the relative winner is shunned by all the potential coalition partners who in turn patch together a motley crew of a coalition by themselves, there’s a strong hope that we won’t end up with a functioning government because there will be too many pigs fighting at the trough. Even if new elections are called it’s quite possible the same jumble will happen all over again, which is great. Because if you’re Slovenian and know what’s good for you, a functioning government is about the last thing you want. Continue reading I’m loving it

The blonde who had more of everything

I desperately wanted a swing when I was little. But it was not to be. I was too polite to nag my parents into building me one, which is why I considered kids who had such a contraption on their lawn to be lucky little buggers whose parents truly loved them. Well, scratch that about excess politeness: if you’re the youngest of a rapacious brood nothing short of outright vandalism can get your parents’ attention, simple as that.

I suppose I was lucky in other respects; I was allowed to venture out on my own for hours on end without anybody raising an eyebrow (though I sometimes think my parents hadn’t quite realised just how far away my daily bicycle trips took me). Of course I considered my unrestricted freedom to be perfectly normal and only years later grasped how confined many other childhoods were in comparison to mine. One of my particularly prolonged explorations took me to a place that must have been the suburbs of a small town, miles from my home. And that’s where I saw my little blonde. Continue reading The blonde who had more of everything

Don’t be surprised if you hear I’m turning tricks for a living

I ran into one of my favourite high-school professors the other day and when I told him that I was a translator it knocked his jolly mood right out of him. Cuddling his beer, he wistfully reminisced about the high hopes he used to have for me. He went on to inform me that one of his former students was now working for a celebrity fashion designer and another was god-knows-where but filthy rich.

In an atypical moment of mercy, he offered me a chance to redeem myself and asked if at least I was translating movies. In retrospect, I should have said yes. But, having completely misjudged how the world perceived the merits of my chosen career, I didn’t. When I told him that most of my work involved scientific and technical translation, which meant he wasn’t likely to see my name on TV unless I messed up spectacularly, he aimed an accusatory look at my man and demanded to know if he was the one who killed my spark. (Yes, really.) My guy laughed it off while I was silently beating myself up for not having said I was a company manager; it’s technically true because I’m incorporated but it was too late for that now. I tried to regain some value as a human being in my beloved professor’s eyes by mumbling something about how I had great clients and my work was actually interesting and rewarding but he wasn’t buying it.

Then, with a pained expression he recalled how some even smarter girl he used to teach disappointed him even more bitterly. I learned that the poor thing had unwittingly knocked on his door with a copy of The Watchtower in her hand. You need to know that my professor is a vocal atheist – basically he’s a hate preacher but for atheism – and Jehovah’s Witnesses have always been his second-favourite target of ridicule, right after Mormons. So yeah, I’m not the biggest failure he could think of but I came pretty, pretty close. That look of sadness and disappointment in his eyes haunts me to this day. Okay, our awkward encounter took place only this Thursday but still. I’m struggling hard not to wonder if my friends and family are ashamed of me too.

Well, now that I have been informed what an utter waste of space people think I am, I’ve arrived at two resolutions. First, I’ll start charging more for my services because I desperately need to buy myself a large dose of self-respect. Second, the next time someone asks me what I do for a living I’ll tell them I’m a prostitute. In contrast to us translators, these professionals seem to command some respect, probably because they have the sense to charge for what the rest of us do for free. And I refuse to be seen as a loser again! I am deeply passionate about my real work but as it turns out, some passions are best kept secret.

What happens when my man finds another man in his bed

WARNING, GRAPHIC CONTENT: Guy gets Fawked

“Who is this!?” he demanded. “Well what do you think, Guy Fawkes,” I replied.

Man-found-Guy-in-his-bed

 

Not sure why but that’s when things took an ugly turn. The Guy was bundled into the trunk and whisked away to a secretive gathering of Brit expats and other good folks who like to reminisce about the times when the judicial system still had teeth. The Guy was made to sit in the corner and ordered to reflect upon the error of his ways. That didn’t seem to help much as he carried on looking as smug as ever.

Guy-sat-in-the-corner

Continue reading What happens when my man finds another man in his bed