448
Russian to Norwegian fishing.
Watch Russian, who arrived on a fishing trip to Norway - a refined form of pleasure. That, of course, the case if you are outrageously sober and able to analyze: otherwise estimate. When I see a drunken Slavic company in Scandinavia, to my mind all the time climbing the same phrase: "Return of the King." It makes sense: the King of Norway to enter the city of his kingdom with less aplomb than brothers-Slavs. Even if our currently for some reason do not generate noise and fume, they still unmistakably delaminate from the local crowd. And not even the garment: the eyes. Their eyes vague and invariably critical. They want to bring in others, too boring, too clean and measured the world changes. And the more alcohol in the blood, the greater the desire for change.
Oddly enough, but our aspirations, our often succeed. But sometimes. Very occasionally. Opens a portal to another dimension, the planets line up in a row, continental plates collide, the world shifted, and he makes changes in our.
...
We fish swim together with Sven: intelligent and phlegmatic Norway, the owner of two factories and several vessels, good-natured, though rarely smiling man. In my jacket Sven: tacky, two sizes larger than the width of my own shoulders. Battered boat potrёpanye but very sturdy gear, the anticipation of good fishing.
As if in mockery of us, next to the pump is an incredible company Slav brothers. Brand new brand jacket. Identical brands as hats, gloves, shoes. A variety of spinning bristle in all directions so that the company resembles a square bristling with spears Cossack. The most expensive boat, you guys could find. And, of course, the main attribute of any Russian event: the box froze whiskey "Red label" with no less disgusting (in this combination) Coke. Huge bags of provisions. The scale of the spectacle does not fit in with the modest fishing: the impression is that the guys are going to a small war.
Slowly, with the imposing and lazy, they swim out to the middle of a small bay. Looking at all this, I could not help starting to sing "swim painted, Stenka Razin canoes." Sven at the time the engine starts quietly and extremely says: "Twelve hours. We need now very, very quickly sail away from this place. " The phrase sounds strange, I begin to look around and soon understand why so much Sven rushed.
At exactly twelve hours every working day, is located in the bay of the factory for processing of fish carried to the street production waste: heads, guts and other stuff. By itself, this fact does not constitute a drama, but every day on the fly lured place seagull, each the size of a good chicken. Seagulls greedily devour the head and thus get rid of the previously eaten. The traditional way. This occurs in flight over the bay. This resets the seagull as much as before eaten. If you knew how much can eat this bird, you would be horrified. Your life after gaining this knowledge would never have become the same.
When the first wave of gulls head thrown hastily swallowed the boat of our compatriots majestically occupies the center of a small bay. For several long seconds, seagulls soar in the sky, an eyeful ... After the climax, I completely shocked and even somewhere crushed, turn around and speak to Sven, "Sven, now I imagine looked like the bombing of Pearl Harbor." Sven was silent and did not even smile. He sees all this is not the first time.
There inappropriate laughter, I have already written about this. But that was the only time in my life when I was really scary laugh. Newbies jackets, gloves, hats. Points. Boat. Red label. Baguette, salami, red caviar. Everything was not even plastered - buried. Within ten minutes of the bay stood a dense mat that I would not be surprised if the echoes drifted to the Lofoten.
Sailing past, I wanted to say, "Guys, it's about money," but poosterёgsya. Sven would not touch, and I like his would be killed for sure.
P.S. wrote: pity that no photos. I did not take a camera, we're fish swam. The guys took. As you know, the camera came to a full, unconditional fucked.
© the-fencer.livejournal.com/
Source:
Oddly enough, but our aspirations, our often succeed. But sometimes. Very occasionally. Opens a portal to another dimension, the planets line up in a row, continental plates collide, the world shifted, and he makes changes in our.
...
We fish swim together with Sven: intelligent and phlegmatic Norway, the owner of two factories and several vessels, good-natured, though rarely smiling man. In my jacket Sven: tacky, two sizes larger than the width of my own shoulders. Battered boat potrёpanye but very sturdy gear, the anticipation of good fishing.
As if in mockery of us, next to the pump is an incredible company Slav brothers. Brand new brand jacket. Identical brands as hats, gloves, shoes. A variety of spinning bristle in all directions so that the company resembles a square bristling with spears Cossack. The most expensive boat, you guys could find. And, of course, the main attribute of any Russian event: the box froze whiskey "Red label" with no less disgusting (in this combination) Coke. Huge bags of provisions. The scale of the spectacle does not fit in with the modest fishing: the impression is that the guys are going to a small war.
Slowly, with the imposing and lazy, they swim out to the middle of a small bay. Looking at all this, I could not help starting to sing "swim painted, Stenka Razin canoes." Sven at the time the engine starts quietly and extremely says: "Twelve hours. We need now very, very quickly sail away from this place. " The phrase sounds strange, I begin to look around and soon understand why so much Sven rushed.
At exactly twelve hours every working day, is located in the bay of the factory for processing of fish carried to the street production waste: heads, guts and other stuff. By itself, this fact does not constitute a drama, but every day on the fly lured place seagull, each the size of a good chicken. Seagulls greedily devour the head and thus get rid of the previously eaten. The traditional way. This occurs in flight over the bay. This resets the seagull as much as before eaten. If you knew how much can eat this bird, you would be horrified. Your life after gaining this knowledge would never have become the same.
When the first wave of gulls head thrown hastily swallowed the boat of our compatriots majestically occupies the center of a small bay. For several long seconds, seagulls soar in the sky, an eyeful ... After the climax, I completely shocked and even somewhere crushed, turn around and speak to Sven, "Sven, now I imagine looked like the bombing of Pearl Harbor." Sven was silent and did not even smile. He sees all this is not the first time.
There inappropriate laughter, I have already written about this. But that was the only time in my life when I was really scary laugh. Newbies jackets, gloves, hats. Points. Boat. Red label. Baguette, salami, red caviar. Everything was not even plastered - buried. Within ten minutes of the bay stood a dense mat that I would not be surprised if the echoes drifted to the Lofoten.
Sailing past, I wanted to say, "Guys, it's about money," but poosterёgsya. Sven would not touch, and I like his would be killed for sure.
P.S. wrote: pity that no photos. I did not take a camera, we're fish swam. The guys took. As you know, the camera came to a full, unconditional fucked.
© the-fencer.livejournal.com/
Source:
