No, no – Not the sort you get when your famous in Anja Magazine – the term ‘false friends’ is often used to refer to a word that is the same in two languages but with two different meanings. Some funny examples exist in Slovene and English.
In Slovene the word ‘brat’ means brother. The word ‘bog’ means God and taking a dump on one may land you in trouble.
I also learnt that ‘Sega’ is pronounced the same as the Italian word for a ‘hand job’ which makes the SEGA Master System a lot lot funnier and, the fact that a Toyota MR2 in France would be pronounced “Toyota Merde”. Who say’s you can’t polish a turd?
I’ve also heard some funny translations of the (already odd) insect the Daddy Long Legs. Translated to English, the French call it ‘Cousin’, the Italians ‘something off the wall’ and the Slovene’s call it a ‘Snake Sheppard’!!! However, I have to admit I’m still investigating this one as its possible this is bollocks. Either way, collecting names for the Daddy Long Legs is now my new hobby.
So, what’s been up since the somewhat troublesome weekend of last? Well, gladly it’s all been good. I had a shot-glass sized schedule on Thursday and celebrated it’s completion with a pint sized bottle of Lasko with a cool American girl who pretends to be a Slovene. She even has an elaborate story about her family history etc but I’m not buying it.
Friday, well Friday was Friday and therefore time to fill Obi, gather the troops and leave for a random destination. Actually, we had planned to conquer (in the nicest possible way) the northern Bosnian town of Bihac, however, this apparently causes my insurance company (The Post Office) a few problems who require 48 hours to decide if it’s OK. So, instead we headed west to the town of Idria. Idria is a world famous source of Mercury, home of a traditional (and protected) form of pasta called žlikrofi and 2 kilometre drive from Slovenia’s shortest river. The lake at the end is well worth the tiresome, dangerous and difficult 50 meter walk.
Today, Sunday was even more active but less pioneering (I’ve been there before) however, we conquered Smarna Gora – the 600 meter boob that looks over Ljubljana. Lost, we were told by a cheeky chubby old guy in a vest that it would take us ‘beginners’ about an hour to get to the top. 34 minutes later my bum was in a deckchair on the summit. In your face vest man!
We got down and three seconds after closing the car doors the heavens opened and, two minutes later we were practically washed off the road. Untrained as a sailor, I docked Obi and we sat out the storm drinking coffee in a service station. I always thought people were exaggerating the changeability of the weather here but, we set off up the hill to a clear blue sky and beaming sunshine and returned in rain (and hail at the same time) like I’ve never seen before.
Oh, my Slovene boots have now been up (and down) their fist Slovene hill and so far, so good.
OK, now I’m commenting on the status of my shoes – a clear sign that I’ve written too much and need to go to bed.