Te dni je v naši deželici taka trdovratna megla, da smo se s staršema morali zapeljati vse do Kranjske Gore, da smo našli sonce.
Pokazala sta mi smučišče (zadnji posnetek), na katerem sem ubirala svoje prve smučarske korake in ki sem se ga spominjala, kot bi ga videla včeraj, z malim kozolcem vred, kjer smo si od časa do časa odpočili, le nekako mevžasto položen se mi je zdel tokrat, po več kot tridesetih letih, res ne vem, čemu sva s sestro tedaj za vlečnico vpregli očija, heh.
Potem smo si z enega še nepobeljenih kranjskogorskih smučišč kazali jezike z onim, meglenim, ki se je nevarno stegoval gor po zgornjesavski dolini, zverina pa je miren in sončen dan skoraj spremenila v krvavo grozljivko, tako zelo je opletala z veliko ošpičeno trofejo, ki jo je našla ob poti.
For there is such a stubborn fog in our little country these days, my parents and I had to drive all the way to the Alps (only almost an hour away - yep, we have a magic land, everything in a pocket!) in the northwest corner, to Kranjska Gora town, if we wanted to find some sun.
They showed me a ski slope (the last picture) where I had made my first ski steps and which I remembered like it was yesterday, with the tiny kozolec and everything, where we rested from time to time, it just seemed a bit cowardly flat to me this time, after more than thirty years ago, I really do not understand why my sister and I turned our father into a ski-lift back then, heh.
Later, from one of the yet unwhitened ski slopes of Kranjska Gora, we were showing each other our tongues with that, the foggy one, which was dangerously stretching up along the valley from the central part of the land and our beast almost turned a peaceful and sunny day into bloody horror movie by dangerously spinning a long sharp trophy she had found somewhere.
Zoja pa pridno skrbi za kurjavo:)
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