A story about a different squirrel

Once upon a time there lived a squirrel, who was different from the other squirrels. She lived on a tree in the woods where many other animals lived, but she did not have many friends. Her tail was not so bushy, so the other animals did not consider her a real squirrel. This is why she spent a lot of time on her own. Since she had no one to play with, she designed a game she could play on her own. She would pick hazelnuts from the hazel trees and then hide them in different bushes in the woods. After a week or so, when she has forgotten where she had hidden the hazelnuts, she would start to search for them.

One day, when she was searching for the hazelnuts, she met a small bear who she had never met before. Actually, she bumped into him when she was running towards a bush,  where she knew one of her hazelnuts was hidden. The bear was unusually small but was still bigger than her. “Oh, squirrel, are you alright? I am sorry I got in your way. I did not see you,” said the bear while the squirrel was getting on her feet and dusting her belly. She intended to get mad at the bear, but because he was so nice to her, she only said, “It is ok. I am fine,” and rushed forward. The bear wanted to say something else, but the squirrel was already gone.

The next morning the squirrel went hunting for her hidden hazelnuts again. She has  already searched all bushes in her neighbourhood, but half of her hazelnuts were still missing. Then all of a sudden, she saw that bear again, the same one she bumped into the other day. He was eating her hazelnuts! “Those hazelnuts are mine!” she cried out. The bear, who was just a few meters away, heard a scream and turned around to where it had come from. When he saw the squirrel, he started waving his hand and telling her to join him. Even though she was upset about her hazelnuts, she decided to join him.

“Would you like a hazelnut? They are really good. I found them today in that bush,” said the bear cheerfully and showed her the bush not far away from him. “These are my hazelnuts. I hid them in that bush.” said the irritated squirrel.  “Oh, they are yours? I am sorry. I did not know”, said the bear regretfully. The bear’s remorse surprised the squirrel and made her heart melt. “Well, if you like them so much, you can keep them,” said the squirrel as she smiled. “That is very nice of you. You know, I would not have taken them if I knew they were yours,” said the bear. He looked at her with his gentle eyes and she smiled to say she believed him.

“You know, if I did not have to eat so much, I would not have taken them,” continued the bear. “But I need to eat in order to grow and become as big as the other bears in the woods,” answered the bear, when the squirrel gave him a puzzled look. “I must become bigger for them to accept me,” he added with sadness in his voice. But then, as if he had tried to wipe away the sadness, he said in an excited voice: “Yesterday I wanted to tell you, you have a really beautiful tail, but you had already run away.” He waited for her to smile but she felt a mixture of pain and relief instead. “Other squirrels say my tail is not bushy enough and that is why I am not a real squirrel,” said the squirrel with the pain she has carried in her heart for a long time. The bear stopped smiling and gave her a gentle and understanding look. The squirrel’s loneliness disappeared and her mouth stretched into a smile. From then on they knew they were not alone anymore. The bear bent down and hugged the squirrel. He was just big enough to wrap his paws around the squirrel and the squirrel’s tail was just bushy enough not to tickle the bear on his belly.

A cat and his magical glasses

Once upon a time there lived a cat, who was very bitter. He was always complaining about something. When it was raining, he was annoyed at getting wet. When the sun was shining, he was irritated by the bright sunlight. When it was cold, he searched for his winter coat in anger and when it was hot, he hid in shade and grumbled that he was sweating.

One day the weather conditions were almost perfect for the cat. It was not hot, but also not cold. The clouds were hiding the sun, but it was not raining. Since he could not complain about the weather, he got out of his cat hole to see what was wrong with the world, because there was always something wrong! On his way he saw a young girl approaching him. “Look!” he said to himself. “That girl has no sense of style. A red shirt does not go with a pink cardigan!” said the cat as if he were an expert.

He walked on and saw a mother with a child. “Tut-tut,” thought the cat and shook his head. “Just look at her! She is not fit to raise a child. She could at least comb her hair,” said the cat and went forward. He arrived at a cafeteria and saw a boy enthusiastically writing something on a piece of paper. “There is no point in writing, boy! No one is interested in your novel!” shouted the cat and started laughing spitefully. “What an idiot,” the cat thought to himself and went forward.

A few cat meters on the cat saw unusual glasses lying on the floor. “The man, who lost them, can count himself lucky. They are horrible!” said the cat. But something about the glasses attracted the cat. He stepped closer and put them on. He intended to look at himself in a window of a nearby store and prove once again that the glasses were horrible. But something completely different happened.

The moment he put the glasses on the world suddenly became beautiful. The sun, which had come in view, was not annoyingly hot, but was rather pleasant. He felt some kind of lightness. As if all his bitterness has disappeared and made him weightless. He saw beauty everywhere he looked. The birds were not squealing but were singing beautiful songs. Children were not audacious when they came to stroke him, instead he felt their tenderness and love.

He became so fond of the glasses that he decided to take them home. On his way back he passed the cafeteria, where the boy was still writing. Now the cat saw the boy’s joy of writing and he was pleased for him. “Write, young boy, write,” thought the cat and went on. He then met the mother with the child, who he had despised before. Now he only saw love the mother felt for her child. He did not even notice her looks! In the end he saw the girl, whose red and pink combination of clothes was very becoming. “How could I have thought these two colours do not match?”

When he finally arrived at his cat hole, he heard a loud laughter from above. “Ha ha ha, look at it, a cat with glasses!” he heard. He looked up and saw a man pointing at him and laughing. “Is your eyesight going bad? Ha ha ha!” shouted the man. But our cat did not mind being laughed at. He did not resent the man. “If only he could have such glasses as I have,” wished the cat and disappeared into his cat hole.

Col du Glandon (10.7.2013)

Sedim na kamnu in gledam v dolino, iz katerem sem prišla. Ne vidim daleč, saj jo je zakrila temno modra zavesa, ki kdaj pa kdaj za milisekundo spremeni barvo v nevihtno rumeno. Gledam cesto, ki me je pripeljala sem in gledam napise navijačev Tour d’France-a, ki je prav po tej cesti potekal dva dni prej. Med njimi sem našla tudi slovenskega. To in reklamna zastava na poti gor je zdaj razjasnila moje začudenje nad okrašenostjo zadnje vasi pred vzponom s barvnimi trikotnimi zastavicami, ki so visele na vrvici čez cesto, in plastičnimi kipi kolesarjev.

Občudujem barvno kombinacijo temno zelenih pašnikov, ki me obdajajo z vseh strani, in temno modre doline pred mano, ki postaja vse bolj črna. Ponekod zelene pašnike krasijo rjave pikice, ki so skupine ovnov v daljavi. Ena od teh skupinic je prečkala cesto ravno, ko sem zapeljala na vrh. Nenazadnje pa pogledujem na desno proti naslednjemu prelazu, ki je le 2,5 kilometra oddaljen od tu. Le kaj naju čaka na drugi strani?, se vprašam.

Lugano (6.7.2013)

Na vrsti je Švica! Po kratkem vzponu se poslovim od jezera Como in se napotim proti meji. Tam pa kar naenkrat vame butne prestiž, ki ga nisem pričakovala. Peljem se ob jezeru, ki leži tako na italijanski kot na švicarski strani in ki se mi v soncu nagajivo smehlja. Ob njem pa polno dragih in zavidljivih avtov. Peljem se čez nekaj manjših mest, tik pred mejo pa ostaneva le še jaz in pogled na jezero skozi čudovito galerijo. Prestop meje ni bil nič posebnega, le malo sumničavo je carinik pogledal mojo veliko škatlo s hrano in vprašal Fleisch? Odločno sem odkimala, on pa je prikimal in me spustil naprej.

Če sem mislila, da sem prestiž doživela na italjanski strani, sem se motila. Na poti čez Lugano sem imela spremstvo monaške registrske, od Lugana do kampa v Bellinzoni pa oldtimerja. Čeprav mi tako bogastvo vzbuja občutek cerkvene miši, sem v njem uživala. Res je bilo lepo. Mesto je dajalo videz, ki sem ga v svojih predstavah dajala Azurni obali. Le kakšna bo potem Nica? In Monaco?

Pomežiknila sem jezeru, ki se je grel v popoldanskem soncu in se odcepila na sever. Kot da bi odsekal, je pokrajina od prekrižane table z napisom Lugano izgubila prestiž, a nič zato ... še vedno je bilo lepo.

Passo di Gavia (4.6.2013)

Sedim v avtu, obrnjena proti smeri, od koder sem prišla. Vse okoli mene je sneg, ki se zaradi visoke nadmorske višine in odeje oblakov, ki zakriva sonce, še ni stopil. Zaradi beline, ki pa je zgubila svojo čistost, in tišine, deluje, kakor da sem vstopila v trenutek, ki je zamrznjen v času.

Zatopljena sem v knjigo, ki jo berem že celotno potovanje, pa še nisem dosegla tretjine. A kljub moji zatopnjenosti, se mir, ki me obdaja, naseljuje v meni. Vsake toliko pogledam proti zamrznjenemu jezeru, mimo katerega sem prišla na vrh tega čudovitega prelaza. Čakam, da se bo zdaj zdaj pripeljal izza vogala, za katerim leži jezero in se mu bo, kljub mrazu, nasmehnil, rekoč Še en prelaz premagan.

Passo dello Stelvio (4.7.2013)

Ah, Stelvio. Bil si edini izmed štirinajstih, ki sem si ga zapomnila po imenu. Že to bi lahko napovedovalo, da boš nekaj posebnega. 

Vzpon se je začel s pogledom na dva sivo-granitna zasnežena vrhova, ki sta kot dva tujca izstopala iz okolice. Do vrha so me spremljali tvoji vdani oboževalci kolesarji in motoristi. Ko smo prišli skozi gozdnat del, se je pred nami odprl pogled na cesto z nizko kamnito ograjo, zgrajeno v času Habsburžanov, ki se kot kača vije do vrha. 

Na vrhu kopica ljudi, nasičena na obeh straneh ceste, ki vodi čez vrh v mesto Bormio. Eni jedo Bratwürst s stojnice nasmejanega gospoda, ki pogovor avtomatično začne v nemščini, kljub temu, da smo tehnično gledano v Italiji, drugi pa si ogledujejo stojnice, ki spominjajo na tiste na jadranski obali. A vsi vsaj enkrat pridejo do točke, kjer je najlepši razgled: na desni zasneženi vrh, pred tabo pa dolga dolina, okrašena s kamnito kačo.

Ko že mislimo, da se je vrhunec lepote že zgodil, se nam zgodi druga stran prelaza. Začne se z zasneženimi strminami, ki se z vsako nižjo nadmorsko višino talijo v rjavo-zelen travnik. Kmalu se gôri, ki sta prej zgledali kot da sta zlepljeni skupaj, odpreta in razkažeta prelepo dolino. Ko se po vijugasti cesti spuščamo vanjo, zagledamo deroč slap, za katerega se zdi, da se zliva v kočo pod njim. Pred sabo zagledam avto, iz katerega v tistem trenutku iz voznikovega okna pogledata dve roki s fotoaparatom, da ujameta pogled na dolino. Za trenutek me zgrabi panika (menda ne fotografira voznik?!), a le ugledam britansko registrsko.

Ko se oči le napasejo bogatega razgleda, sem že tako nizko, da ugledam prve znake mesta. Čas je za kosilo. 

Sella di Razzo (2.7.2013)

Sedim ob planinski koči. Pred mano je lesena ograja, na drugi strani asfaltna cesta, ki me je pripreljala sem, čez cesto je travnik, okrašen z majhnimi skalami, smrekov gozd in v ozadju skalnate gore dokler seže pogled. 

Poslušam tišino in gledam ptiča, ki se igra z vetrom. Zdaj na mestu maha s krili in čaka, da bo v nasprotno smer zapihal dovolj močan veter, ki ga bo, mirujočega, obdržal na tej točki. Gledam bele oblake, ki mi občasno lajšajo vročino poletnega sonca in gledam modro nebo, ki je na eni strani svetlo, tik nad mano pa temno modro. Pogovarjam se z vetrom, ki mi vsake toliko prišepne kaj na uho in gledam, kako mimogrede žgečka bilke na travniku, da se nekontrolirano tresejo. 

Vse to si zapisujem v srce, da ne bo žalostno, ko bom odšla naprej. Ko se mi bo potožilo po vetru,  mirujočem ptiču sredi neba in skalnatih gorah, bom le zaprla oči in spet bom tu.