Smrkavec!

Včeraj sva šla v gledališče. In kaj je za ta medbožični čas primernejše, kot Charles Dickens?
The Old Curiosity Shop je klasična zgodba iz srede 19. stoletja, ki govori o bedi in izkoriščanju revnih in pokvarjenosti bogatih. Razen seveda v primeru, ko se nepričakovano pojavi bogati stari stric, ki kot deus ex machina premaga hudobne ljudi in reši zadevo. S to razliko, da v tej zgodbi glavna junakinja, mala Nell, konča ustreljena. Ni čisto holivud, je pa blizu.

No, gledališka predstava na Irskem je precej podobna izkušnja, kot v Ljubljani. Gate Theatre je sorazmerno majhen, kakih 200 ljudi sprejme, nekako me je spominjal na mešanico stare Kinoteke in malo boljšega zadružnega doma, a na en tak malo bolj fin način. Sama predstava je bila lepa, zgodba je tekla gladko in kljub predvidljivosti scenarija smo lahko občudovali kulise in igro.

V zadnje pol ure pa se je začelo trpljenje: desno v vrsti pred mano sta sedela približno sedemleten poba in njegova mama. Gledališče je kar dobro prenašal, dokler mu ni postalo dolgčas, in je - začel vleči smrkelj. Če si kdo ne predstavlja, kako so trpeli ubogi v Dickensovih zgodbah - takole je moralo biti. Neumorno, neustrašno, in predvsem brez vsake mamine reakcije. Vsake 20 sekund, smrrrk! Oh, moj prvi refleks je bil - dajmo mami in fantu robček, se bosta že znašla! (seveda ga nisem imel niti sam). Dem! No, potem sem opazil, da je mama vendarle dala sinetu robec, a se ta ni kaj dosti zmenil zanj, zanimivo pa je, da tudi drugih obiskovalcev zadeva ni motila. Še dobro, da je glavni bed gaj že bežal pred roko pravice in je bilo jasno, da predstava (po dveh urah in četrt) ne bo trajale več dolgo. Tako sem se z vsemi močmi uprl impulzu; nisem se nagnil naprej do sineta in mu siknil "Blow your nose!!" Kdo ve, kakšen škandal bi uprizorila mama.
Včasih je problem, če si tujec v tuji deželi...

Nauk (prosto po Staši): Vedno nosi s sabo zavojček papirnatih robčkov!

Homo Dolphinus

Dear Friends,

In the middle of the winter grip, here is something special I wanted to share with you for quite some time. A picture postcard from the warm sun & turquise waters of Egypt, Sharm-el-Sheikh, to be precise. For all of you who have visited the Red Sea before, the Apple Fanta may look familiar. It is a classic with European travellers - I wonder why?

A taxi brought us to a low structure, in front of which a large crowd was assembled, buzzing with excitement. The dolphins! We are going to see them! Finally!
--
I have been waiting for this moment ever since my friend D. successfully dissuaded me in Cancun, Mexico, almost five years ago, claiming that I would this way only perpetuate the captivity of the proud species (at the same time, he had no problems with hogs being destined to become prosciuttos - apparently, this was their job- !?). Well, I must admit that this is a valid point. In fact, there are several sites, including The Humane Society that discuss the ethics of swimming with dolphins, either in captivity or in the wild, and their removal from their natural habitats. I had five years to think about this, and my bottom line is: I feel for all animals. As long as they are well cared for and are not treated cruelly, dolphin swimming is no different than keeping animals in the ZOO, or having domesticated horses or dogs. And the point of the ZOO, apart from helping some species to survive, is to educate people and promote greater understanding and appreciation of the animals and nature.

(According to Borderless M., maybe, just maybe, the dolphins want to be in captivity with us, so that they could teach us about them and about appreciating marine life in general. What with them being superior to us and all.)
--
We entered the compound that hosted a medium-sized pool, on one side lined with seating. First of all, a local talent show team tried to stir us with some local vibes.

But we were waiting for the main course. During all the show, three dolphins were slowly doing laps in the pool behind the dancers. Effortless. Simple. Beautiful.

The music changed, the dancers packed their gear and we could see the Man who was already warming up his friends. A quick chat, a few pointers about the finer aspects of the upcoming show, and off they went!

And how! They flew like the wind! Through the hoops!

Over the bars! It was a display of swimming prowess, skill and best of all, it was all only a play for them.

Of course, we were also in for some show. Every now and then, they came to their human friend to check if he is all right. Cookie! Gimme gimme! A horse gets an apple treat, while dolphins are happy with a piece of fish.

And as the show came to an end, most of the audience left the scene. Only a few of us remained. We donned a neoprene suit, and were told the rules: don't touch dolphins' eyes, breathing hole, or genitals. That was it! Three persons were assigned per each dolphin, and - it was time to join these wonderful creatures in their medium.

I couldn't wait!

Next thing I know, I was rubbing the dolphin belly. Their skin is silky smooth, cold, but firm. And they are big. You can feel the power of their muscles and the efficiency with which they move through the water. All the stories and legends that we have heard about them, all the preconceptions - nothing mattered any more. I was standing in this shallow pool, holding a live, strong, healthy and intelligent animal that for a moment was happy to play with me. The only feeling that I can compare it to is the time spent with a horse. I felt exposed and vulnerable, for the dolphin could have easily hurt me, but also very peaceful, and very happy.

She just rolled over and splashed water with her fins, laughing!

And then she decided to spray me with water. Naughty little dolphin!

Then it was time to play tugboat. I swam across the pool, and the dolphin came after me. I was instructed to grab her back fin, and she then dragged me back to start. We repeated this game several times: if you grabbed her only with one hand, she would go much slower than when she felt a two-hand grip.

Every now and then, they went to check with their trainer, if everything is OK. He calmed them with a palm touching their snouts.

A photo-op with my new dolphin friend. She gave me a kiss! Oooooohhhhh....

And we were ready for a dance! I held her for the front fins, and she spun us slowly around. She didn't mind leading the dance, and I tried not to step on her toes.

Then we all joined a circle, where we tried to pass the ball to one another. With the dolphin in the middle, our mediocrity soon proved to be a dooming prospect. She dominated us easily: once she got the ball, it was impossible to take it away from her. And I tried!

Dolphin singing lessons were something special. By waving my hand in front of her snout (as instructed by her trainer), she would squeak - just like the Flipper on TV.

Still pouting... No pudding for you tonight, young lady!

After good twenty minutes, the show was over. For me, it was all like a dream.

Thank you, Borderless!

Ovčereja v Dublinu: Dokumentarec

Dragi moji,

Takole je bilo. Ovca je prišla, videla in zmagala. Njene fotke zmrznjenega časa ste vsi občudovalci že videli na njenem pašniku, zdaj pa je čas, da še jaz povem, kako je RES bilo. :)
Torej, z Brezmejno sva se Ovčinega obiska v Dublinu zelo razveselila. Kajti oba sva se v šoli učila, da so ovce domače živali, ki nam edine dajejo tudi volno. Mislim, če to ni fenomenalen prospekt? Polna pričakovanja sva ji torej poskušala omogočiti čim manj stresno in čim bolj prijazno bivanje. In tukaj je poročilo.

Seveda smo najprej skočili v mesto, kjer že od 5.11. non stop vrtijo Jingle Bells. Menda zaradi gospodarske krize. In potem ljudje ful bolj kupujejo. To je približno tako, kot če bi konec dneva, ko si spil že 10 kav, spiješ še enega espresota, "ker si mal zmatran", namesto, da bi se naspal. But I digress. Takole zgleda pa učinek tovrstnih sublimnih sporočil na nič hudega sluteče nakupovalce.

Seveda so glavno okraski za jelko. Na najini se zdaj blešči še nizozemski porcelan. Ček diz aut! Konjiček je Newbridge Silverware.

Seveda so na tržnici prodajali tudi druge vrste okraske, za katere pa se nekako nisva ogrela.

Ta izkušnja je bila dovolj, da je bilo treba poiskati uteho v alkoholu. Dežurna Brezmejna naju je poslala na Music Pub Crawl, im zdaj znava ločiti jig od slipjiga in od reela (? recimo.). Sta bila pa gostitelja, ki sta nas vodila od puba do puba, na moč zabavna.

Nekaterim (ne bomo jih imenovali) se je plesalo tudi naslednji dan, ko sva se z Ovco odpravila iskat gorske leprechaune. Ledu ste lahko dovolj videli že pri njej, za ilustracijo pa naj povem, da je bila cesta tako gladka, da smo vozili največ 15km/h - pri več bi avto namreč avtomatsko zdrsnil v jarek - dokler se nisva spustila malo nižje in je ledeni oklep popustil.

Na vasi so si omislili takele novoletne okraske:

Še en utrinek iz ledenih planjav.

Nato sva pujsnila v Glendalough, kjer sta se dve jezeri obdali s par sto metrov visokimi hribi, na katere se da povzpeti in se v živo spoprijeti z naravnimi elementi.

Posebej pazljiv je treba biti, da ti kateri od teh elementov ne pade na nogo.

V tej divjini živijo tudi nekatere divje živali. Na sliki lahko vidimo Ovco, ki se poskuša približati alpskemu svizcu ali mrmotici. Slišala sva ga, kako nama je žvižgal, a kako kaj videt med temi pošaranimi kamni??

In tu se začne naslednja zgodba (prosto po Župančiču):
Bister potoček se vije čez plan...

... preko kremenov se lije...

... in namesto, da bi se ciciban v njem umil, pade še nekajkrat čeznje, in skozi čudovita nedoumljiva naravna pota...

... iz njega nastane Guinness!! (iz potočka, ne iz cicibana, seveda!)

Leprechauni so naju skrivoma in le od daleč opazovali...

... pa tudi gamsi niso bili preveč za debato. So bili preveč bizi, ker so divje vihrali preko ledenih prostranstev in širjav.

Na poti sva videla tudi nekaj markacij, ki pa so se nama zdele zelo nedoumljive.

Precej truda naju je stalo, da sva jih popravila. :)

"Naša pekla!"

Konec dober - vse dobro. In bilo je RES dobro!
Ovca, pridi spet!

Ovca v Dublinu

Kdo bi si mislil! Ovca v Dublinu! Vsi, ki se vsaj malo spoznate na ovčjerejo, veste, da to ni preprost podvig. Najprej prepričati ovna, da se za cel vikend posveti kozličkom (ups pardon ovčkam) in nato spokati taveliko krtačo (za razčesavanje runa) in Veliki vodnik po travah zahodne Irske, pa seveda največji fotoaparat kar ga je moč najti v bližnji okolici (od kod pa mislite, da pridejo tiste krasne slike?). In hajd na pot!

Seveda sva je z Brezmejno super vesela. Potem, ko bomo uspešno segreli čajnik in pripravili pernico, se lotimo pa še načrtovanja novih dogodivščin!

The Plan by Jack Handey

Dear Friends,

Currently, I am preparing a project plan, and the more I dig in, the more loose ends seem to surface. This is where I stumbled upon Jack Handey's planning exercise in The New Yorker (Shouts and Murmurs, Nov. 24, 2008)

Enjoy!

Illustration: Michael Kupperman

The plan isn’t foolproof. For it to work, certain things must happen:

• The door to the vault must have accidentally been left open by the cleaning woman.
• The guard must bend over to tie his shoes and somehow he gets all the shoelaces tied together. He can’t get them apart, so he takes out his gun and shoots all his bullets at the knot. But he misses. Then he just lies down on the floor and goes to sleep.
• Most of the customers in the bank must happen to be wearing Nixon masks, so when we come in wearing our Nixon masks it doesn’t alarm anyone.
• There must be an empty parking space right out in front. If it has a meter, there must be time left on it, because our outfits don’t have pockets for change.
• The monkeys must grab the bags of money and not just shriek and go running all over the place, like they did in the practice run.
• The security cameras must be the early, old-timey kind that don’t actually take pictures.
• When the big clock in the lobby strikes two, everyone must stop and stare at it for at least ten minutes.
• The bank alarm must have mistakenly been set to “Quiet.” Or “Ebb tide.”
• The gold bars must be made out of a lighter kind of gold that’s just as valuable but easier to carry.
• If somebody runs out of the bank and yells, “Help! The bank is being robbed!,” he must be a neighborhood crazy person who people just laugh at.
• If the police come, they don’t notice that the historical mural on the wall is actually us, holding still.
• The bank’s lost-and-found department must have a gun that fires a suction cup with a wire attached to it. Also a chainsaw and a hang glider.
• When we spray the lobby with knockout gas, for some reason the gas doesn’t work on us.
• After the suction cup is stuck to the ceiling, it must hold long enough for Leon to pull himself up the wire while carrying the bags of money, the gold bars, and the hang glider. When he reaches the ceiling, he must be able to cut through it with the chainsaw and climb out.
• Any fingerprints we leave must be erased by the monkeys.
• Once on the roof, Leon must be able to hold on to the hang glider with one hand and the money and the gold bars with the other and launch himself off the roof. Then glide the twenty miles to the rendezvous point.
• When we exit the bank, there must be a parade going by, so our getaway car, which is decorated to look like a float, can blend right in.
• During the parade, our car must not win a prize for best float, because then we’ll have to have our picture taken with the award.
• At the rendezvous point, there must be an empty parking space with a meter that takes hundred-dollar bills.
• The robbery is blamed on the monkeys.