Archives for August, 2006

The grape juices of wrath are now on sale at Hofer.

Today is the last day of August and the summer is nearly done. Meteorologically speaking, it’s been a lousy three months, but in terms of solving mysteries, it’s been excellent. First, it seems that the eccentric Russian mathematician Grigori Perelman has proven Thurston’s geometrization conjecture and, by extension, the Poincaré conjecture. Meanwhile, here in Slovenia, BoÅ¡tjan has solved the equally famous Slovenian Grape Juice conjecture, as first posited here. Both discoveries are equally tremendous.

Like the International Mathematical Union, I wanted to award Boštjan a large stipend in the form of nearly €10,000 for solving this seemingly uncrackable mystery. But, much like Perelman, Boštjan refused.

Still, the fruits of his effort can be enjoyed by all, especially me. For behold, on sale today: red and white grape juice!

Can’t… fight… this feeling… anymore… must… resist… cigarettes…

My daughter, who will soon turn three, recently came to me in the living room and said:

“Daddy, can I have a light?”

‘Damnit,’ I thought, ’she can barely eat by herself and already Big Tobacco has gotten to her. It was probably that sonnuvabitch Joe Camel. Or maybe some rowdies at her nursery.’

Unless I misunderstood her… Maybe she wanted me to turn on a light?

“You want me to turn on the light?” I asked.
“No, no. Give me a light,” she answered, making a motion to her mouth.

I suppose it’s inevitable that kids go through this, I just didn’t expect it to come so soon. I mean, she still wears diapers at night, and now she wants to toke up in the living room in front of her father. God knows what she’ll be saying when she’s six. Probably: “Yo, Dad, got any speedballs? Let’s break that shit out, yo.”

I called my wife over to discuss what rehab center to put our daughter in, but — like most parents — she was in denial. Refusing to accept that our child has a problem, she made some inquiries of her own, but no matter what she asked, our daughter kept insisting on getting a light while pointing to her lips. We were baffled, until my wife asked her to try explaining herself in Slovene. To which she said:

“Jaz hoÄ?em luÄ?ko.”

That’s literally, “I want a light” except that in Slovene, a “light” is also something akin to this.

And so, the dangers of smoking were successfully avoided. But the dangers of directly translating Slovene into English remain dangerously present…

“Breasts like bombs!” deserves the title of headline of the year. (Nova’s original photo here < -- NSFW!)

For its August issue, the American parenting magazine Babytalk published a picture of a child nursing on its cover. The picture, which you can see here, shows a breast in profile and, according to this AP story, “sparked an outrage.” One angry Texan woman told a reporter that she “shredded it” when she saw it. Her reasoning?

“A breast is a breast — it’s a sexual thing.”

I won’t dignify that masterful tautology with a response, but before you laugh it off as just another crazy lady in Texas let me point out that, according to a 2004 survey by the American Dietetic Association, a majority of Americans do not support breastfeeding in public places. And if you look at this page of U.S. breastfeeding laws, you’ll see that not all 50 states have legislation allowing mothers to breastfeed in any private or public location. (As of April, just 32 of them do)

As for the Babytalk cover itself: in a poll of 4,000 of the magazine’s readers (overwhelmingly women with both children and breasts) 25% thought the picture was “inappropriate.”

One can only imagine what they’d think of, say, this (nsfw) recent Stern Magazine cover. Or, here in Slovenia, the recent Nova magazine cover featuring Å pela from Atomik Harmonik, topless. (Here are the pictures in question: 1, 2)

Of course, the Å pela pictures did also cause a bit of a stir here. But not about whether Nova should have published them on the front page, or at all, but whether Å pela has had “enhancement surgery” and if the candid-seeming photos were, in fact, candid.

But even there, there wasn’t much controversy.

In Slovenia, she’s called pepelka.

Sayeth the bumper sticker: “I don’t know what’s with me today, but yesterday I was still a Ferrari.”

(Thanks Barbara!)

The half-naked hatchetfish: one of Slovenia’s many underwater monsters. (source)

I love fish. I also love obsessive-compulsive cataloguing of any kind. And that’s why Fishbase is the greatest web site in the history of the universe.

Want to know what kind of fish are currently swimming in Slovenian waters? Here you go. Eight wonderful, detailed pages of them.

Browsing through the specimens, I realized two things:

1) Slovenian fish are almost universally monstrous. Really. It’s like looking at horror film extras. It seems that only the most grotesque and untouchable (not to mention inedible) fish have survived centuries of overfishing in the Adriatic. The corkwing wrasse is about as pretty as it gets. You certainly won’t find any of the beauties of the Caribbean anywhere. Nor will you find my personal favorites: the yellowtail damselfish or the great barracuda.

2) I’m never swimming in the Adriatic ever again.

Have a nice weekend!

Here’s the Goofus and Gallant guide to selling your automobile on the popular Slovenian auction site Bolha.

GOOFUS SAYS

“When selling your Renault 19 turbo diesel online, [screenshot] mention that it’s from 1999, mention the color, and mention that it was rarely serviced for the first 50,000 kilometers and that it’s in good condition. Ask for 120.000 SIT (500 euros) for it. Insist that you want serious calls only, but then don’t mention why the car looks like this:

A real fixer-upper?

GALLANT SAYS:

“Forget about the car. Seriously. And what’s with that dazed and confused guy in blue standing next to it? Here’s what a proper automobile ad looks like:

There’s an Alfa Romeo somewhere in there too.

According to the newspaper Finance, the Alfa Romeo ad drew in 260 prospective buyers, including people from neighboring countries. Now that’s salesmanship.

An Austria-Slovenia mix-up in The Sun?

I don’t even know where to file this one. The photo above allegedly appeared in the British tabloid The Sun, which is otherwise a reputable source for hard-hitting, professional journalism. At least they didn’t do the usual thing, though.

I tried to confirm this picture’s existence online, but The Sun’s archives are teh suck. Not only do you have to pay for them but they’re text only — “for ease and efficiency.” Heh.

(Thanks Å mon!)

Slovenia’s national carrier, Adria Airways.

Skytrax allows people to share their experiences with various airlines, airports, and everything connected thereto. I recently went to the Adria forum to see what people thought of Slovenia’s national carrier and found, for the most part, satisfied customers. It’s full of stuff like: “would fly Adria again,” “quite satisfied,” “no major complaints,” “overall a pleasant experience.”

I’ve flown with Adria before, and I would agree with all of the above.

It’s quite a different story, though, at the forum for the former Yugoslavian (now Serbian) national carrier JAT, where some comments made me laugh so hard I did damage to my internal organs. (It was worth it, though.)

Although JAT has been praised for its safety, their customer service doesn’t seem to have won many hearts over the years. Here are some of the better comments: (emphasis is mine)

“The flight to Belgrade was delayed one hour and a half. No explanation was offered for this. Even worse, repeatedly asking one of the ground crew about the delay only produced an empty smile and a meaningless ‘yes’ in reply. When we finally did board the plane, I found out my seat was broken. The flight attendants did not in any way respond to my complaints.”

“Delayed departures by up to an hour are common in both directions… You will not get any excuses or explanations.”

“I cannot comment on the in-flight service or the aircraft as it simply didn’t arrive in Beirut. There was no warning; indeed there were no JAT staff or handling agents whatsoever. Right up to departure time there was no indication that the flight had not left Belgrade. Eventually the word “cancelled” appeared on the screen - at 0100hrs. Next flight (MEA) 4.30pm!! Absolutely disgraceful.”

“If there would be an under 1 star rating for an airline companies I would definitely rate JAT with minus -5 star airline. Try to avoid it if you can!“

“A great advantage is their punctuality.” ???

And, finally, my personal favorite:

My first time on JAT from Frankfurt to Beograd. Accompanied with husband, son and wheelchair bound mother-in-law, the aircraft interior was well and truely worn and torn, seats terribly uncomfortable, checking the pockets in seats only found emergency card, nothing else. The aircraft type was very noisy. Cabin services appeared friendly but not of international standard. A cold meal was presented, not very appetising. Upon disembarking aircraft at Beograd, after other passengers left aircraft, due to wheelchair bound mother-in-law, only myself was promptly directed by female cabin crew to “get off aircraft” with the pointing of her hand to the exit door followed by another reply “you must leave now“. Having travelled myself around the world on many different airlines, I have never experienced such appalling behaviour. Politeness and courtesy appeared non-existent to this cabin crew member.

You can read all the comments here. Also: don’t miss Eric Gordy’s recent adventure with JAT, which is brilliantly written and also very funny. (But only because it didn’t happen to you.)

It’s also worth noting that despite all of the above, JAT and Adria are both rated as 3-star airlines. How’s that for justice?

(Thanks Martinovanje!)

Motorists helpfully make an additional traffic sign.

The sign reads:

“Careful! Fucked-up Street…
P.S. Fuck this project leader’s mother.
– Your Taxpayers”

(Thanks Miran!)

The first ingredients: blueberries and sugar.

Since coming to Slovenia, I’ve gone from “Never drinking fruity apéritifs” to “Drinking twice my body weight in fruity apéritifs every weekend.”

Sipping a borovnica (blueberry schnapps) is de reigueur at traditional Slovenian meals. It’s something of a ritual. By accepting one from your host, you enter into a sacred covenant: You signal your willingness to eat and drink to maximum capacity, and your host accepts the responsibility to do everything he can to completely and utterly wreck your digestive system.

In the summer, which is a season that sometimes happens in Slovenia but sometimes not, you’ll often see bottles of dark liquid suntanning on people’s balconies. This is usually homemade borovnica, or some variant thereof: viÅ¡nja (sour cherry schnapps), or a liquor made with some other fruit: blackberries, wild strawberries, etc… It’s very easy to do. Here’s one way.

First, you’ll need the ingredients: white sugar, fresh blueberries, and alcohol. Then you’ll need to clean the blueberries. This can be a bit of a pain.

Washing away their sins.

If you want your schnapps to contain a lot of berries, you’ll need to be careful to pick out all the leaves and stems. Be aware that this is a time-consuming process. If you want it “clear” or “fruitless,” or if you have, say, two young children at home, and one of them has bronchitis again so he’s constantly waking up and coughing and you don’t have the time and energy to clean the stupid berries, and the boy keeps interrupting things anyway so you just want to finish things up and get some sleep, then just rinse the blueberries and move on to the next step. Which is:

Building a tower of power.

Layer the blueberries and sugar in a bottle. The amount of sugar determines the sweetness, obviously, but don’t be too shy with the white stuff. We generally use a ratio of 1:1, and (contrary to expectations) the final product doesn’t taste sickeningly sweet. Fill up the bottle about 3/4 of the way up and get ready for the next and easiest step.

Here comes the sun, doo doo doo doo.

Leave the bottle out in the sun and just let the sugar melt. If you live in Slovenia you might need to travel abroad for this step. Just ask your local travel agent if he can recommend a place that has an orb-like thing called a sonce (sun). When the sugar melts, you’ll eventually have a half-full bottle of sludge. Now comes the essential part.

Gallons of alcohol flow into the bottle.

Fill up the remainder of the bottle with alcohol. Of course, a true professional would also make their own alcohol, but that’s out of my league. We use good ol’ Serbian-made slivovitz. Now that all the ingredients are together the way God intended them to be, you’re pretty much finished.

Stir it, don’t shake it.

Stir things up, close the bottle and put it in a dark place. (Basements are perfect — just be careful it doesn’t come into contact with the dead bodies you have down there.) When it’s ready, you’ll have your very own bottle of borovnica!

Needless to say, this is just one way of preparing the stuff. And I can’t be held liable if you decapitate yourself or otherwise hurt yourself making this. If anyone wants to share some of their tips, or secret production method, please do so in the comments!