Monday, July 29, 2013

Aitu vērotāji /// Sheep watchers

Ričards: "Katrs Auns dzīves laikā ir pelnījis lodi pierē."

^^^^^
Ricards: "Every Aries deserves a bullet in the head once in a lifetime."


Drumnadrochit village



Svaru vērotāji /// Scale watchers


River Enrick


 


aitiņas bēg prom /// sheep running (or moving) away



forši koki alejā, vai ne /// cool trees, aren't they

aitas paparaci /// sheep paparazzi

mākonīši ar sejiņām peld pļaviņā /// clouds with faces on the field





kadiķu ziedi /// juniper blossoms

Urquhart Castle

 



Lohness un viņa pelēkie viļņi /// Loch Ness and its grey ripples





Libra, Aries, Leo

auna piere

aitu pilna nogāze /// a sheepful hillside


Jānis, Ričards un Elīna ciemos pie Nesijas Lohnesa ezerā 2011. gada 1. aprīlī; dienā, kad pasauli papildināja bariņš jaunu jēriņu.

^^^^^
Janis, Ricards and Elina visiting Nessie in Loch Ness on the 1st of April, 2011, the day when a bunch of brand-new lambs were imported into the world.



Monday, July 8, 2013

Fabula par dziesmīšiem /// Fable on the Song fest

Es vakar un aizvakar biju laukos, vakar un aizvakar bija Dziesmu svētki, aizvakar vecāmammai izbira uz galda sāls.

Vecāmamma.: Būs jāstrīdas!
Es.: Ar ko nez?
Vecāmamma.: Gan jau ar Visvaldi, viņš tāds strīdīgs.

Vēlāk vakarā.
Vecāmamma: Deju svētkus tu vispār nevari paskatīties, vienu deju! Kas tas ir - viena deja! Tev tikai krievus paskatīties, latviešus vispār nevari skatīties.
Visvaldis: Rīt būs atkārtojums.
Vecmamma: Kāds atkārtojums!! Rīt būs Noslēguma koncerts!
Visvaldis: Nu, to pašu, tikai dziedās.
Vecāmamma: Ka nevar saprast - Noslēguma koncertā citu dziedās!
Visvaldis: [meh] Var taču iet skatīties uz otra televizora. Ir taču divi televizori, jomajo!
Vecāmamma: [pauzite, neitrāli] Mazs ekrāns. Tev tikai krievus un čigānus. Latviešus izturēt nevari, pff.

Morāle.
Neizbērt sāli Dziesmīšu laikā, ja nealksti nacionāla rakstura strīda ar savu tuvāko.


^^^^^
Yesterday and the day before yesterday I was in the countryside, yesterday and the day before Latvian Song and Dance Festival [huge festivities once every five years] took place, the day before yesterday my grandma  poured salt on the table unintentionally.

Grandma: It means I'll have a fight with someone.
Me:  Who might that be?
Grandma: Visvaldis, most probably. He's quite quarrelsome.

Later in the evening.
Grandma: You can't even watch the Dance festival properly, the maximum you're able to stand is one dance! What's one dance?! You'd rather watch nothing but Russians, you can't watch Latvians at all.
Visvaldis: They'll rerun it tomorrow.
Grandma: Rerun, yeah, right! They'll show the gala tomorrow!
Visvaldis: Well, that's the same, only singing.
Grandma: What's here so impossible to understand - they'll sing very different songs from the ones they dance to today!
Visvaldis: [meh] There's still an option to move to the other room to watch this on the other TV. We've got two TVs, for God's sake!
Grandma: [pauses, neutrally] The screen's small. You want nothing but Russians and Gipsies. You can't bear Latvians at all, pff.

Morals.
Don't pour the salt on the table, unless you crave a national problem disposed fight with your next of kin.