WPC: I’ve got a Quest-ion

The question of quest is an intriguing one. Let’s see what my random access memory escalator can bring to the topic.

Marko Pavliha, Slovenian expert in maritime law, recently posted an article with the following paragraph (which I’ve translated myself from Slovenian, so help me dog if he doesn’t like it):

“Homeland is, just like love or happiness, impossible to be defined yet recognisable when felt. It is not merely a dwelling place, but rather a knot of memories, present tense and longing; it is a treasured set of values that includes parents, offspring, family, language, ethics, morals, place of birth, school, work, friends, puppy, cat, bumblebees, swallows, seagulls and dragonflies, dawn and dusk, rosemary, lavender, wormwood, lime tree, poppy field, olives, grapevines, green woods, snowy peaks and fields of wheat, hillocks and valleys, the blue of the sea and folk wisdom, feelings of domesticity and nostalgic intuition, joyful songs and Protestant books, storytelling, theatre, music, international sports champions and function holders, scientists, artists, artisan emigrants, judges, diplomats, politicians, and again the landscape, the beauty, the solitude, the indefinitely unspeakable gorgeousness.”

How can anybody quest-ion to leave all this behind, one could ask. And yet, as everywhere, fatherland, mother tongue and sister hood hide the other cheek, comprised of all the stuff that could and indeed do make people wish to quest away from it.

In fact, Mr. Pavliha concludes his article saying that he continues to be in love with his homeland Slovenia, even though its representatives often anger and sadden him immensely.

Let’s see what boils up my blood the most about my compatriots:

• They wish for neighbour’s cow to drop dead.
• They incur a huge debt in order to get an envy-inducing car.
• They wish to appear better rather than become better. (“What will the neighbours say?”)
• They fear the Others.
• They believe they are unworthy.
• Their gladness in pushing back down any head that comes up higher than the rest.
• Their unnecessary and uncalled-for modesty.
• Their masochism.
• Their self-doubt.
• Their fearfulness.
• Their negativity.
• They are prone to complain, their fault-finding. (See? I’m a true daughter of the nation. :p)
• They are clingy, reluctant to release.

(There, that’s not so bad, is it? Surely there’s more, just can’t think of it right now. Well, Jesenice is ugly. And one of two beers sucks. 😉 )

And so we flee and quest.

The answer is known, I guess, but what was the quest-ion? I guess they are still building the computer to answer that one… Must be because once in a neighbouring country, even the most die-hard Slovenian stops hoping that the neighbour’s cow drops dead.

These images are from my most recent visit to my homeland. A friend took us to Slavkov dom, a restaurant on a hillock above Ljubljana. She had bikovi prašniki (verbatim “bull’s stamens”). Do not tell the cows.

“Who is she calling a cow?”

“Yeah, or a puppy!”

“Does that make me wormwood? Surely not lavender!”

“No olives around here either!”

“How can they forget about us?”

“Plum you!”

“I’m a hillock! Yeeehaa!” says Šmarna gora above Ljubljana.

“You sure ain’t no snowy peak”, says Šmarjetna gora above Kranj.

Slovenian trademark, kozolec, a traditional hayrack.

A restaurant for all who like to stretch their legs a bit before or after.

A window of the nearby church. Its disappointing metal door I’ve posted already.

“Slovenia – the land of my dreams”, says a song.

Unspeakably gorgeous.

“But really, about that cow…”

Photo: a © signature mmm production

In response to The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: Quest