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Learning Slovene with Melania Trump

Only a stooge would change his middle name to Shemp, just to write books as C.S.Lewis... and that's exactly what I am going to do.

Mrs.Donald Trump


I have few memories of my trip to Slovenia more than a decade ago. Before then, if I were asked to point it out on a map,I would only find it after invalidating the more recognizable nations that end with the same sound, and letters; Austria, Romania, (I never realized India rhymed with them all) then start over again when I had located Tanzania. Slovenia is in Europe, I can't pronounce its capital, so I will write it. Ljubljana.

That's about all I remember. Until I was back home watching commercials one night, programming really sucked back then, and with the exception of The Walking Dead, kind of still sucks now. I forced myself to crap during the shows, but made sure I was back in front of the set, because the commercials were golden. In particular the ones that hawked natural male enhancement, anything with a talking dog, and of course, all of the insurance adverts featuring animals personified most humorously.

One in particular featured a duck, and a smoking hot chick, which brought to memory my daily routine for chasing duck and eating chicks... wait a minute that's the other way around. After all who would chase a duck, that would put unnecessary strain on their little legs which in turn, would sour that delicious foie gras, but what do I know, I am not a chef.

Piran, Slovenia

Fog and reflection

Fog and reflection


The commercial made me want to vomit, and not because it featured Melania Trump, but because the duck whose name I think is Aflac was born somewhere in Gonzales. Don't ask me how I know, but I do, and other than a few choice varietals, nothing good has ever come out of Gonzales,California. Mrs.Trump on the other hand was born in Sevnica. I can't remember if I visited Sevnica, as I mentioned before, I have few memories.

So with that said, it was time to make some new ones in the same place, and if I remember, to try and learn a thing or two about that billionaire's wife. Upon landing in Slovenia, I immediately went in search of a bar, to pay tribute to my early morning tipple. For once I would not have to fend off the lashing queries of outmoded friends, and colleagues with the lazy response, "It's five o'clock somewhere," as to why my coffee mug contained spirits so early in the day.

Well I was somewhere, and as fate would have it, the bell in a nearby steeple pealed five times. Whether or not there is a happy hour bar in Slovenia, I would soon find out. It didn't take me long to stumble upon a bar. Thru the glass window, I could see people, mostly men of the mountain dwelling persuasion. The Brawny Paper towel man grew his mustache back, and was present among this lot. He had a remote control in his hand, and was flipping thru channels on a television.

Ljubljana Castle

A bridge of love locks

A bridge of love locks

Melanija or Melania

As I opened the glass door, he finally stopped on an image of Donald Trump behind a podium somewhere on the campaign trail. It was then, that I remembered my purpose for this entire excursion. Melania Trump! And the train to her hometown would be leaving in under an hour. I had no idea where the train station was located, and if I would get there in under an hour. Thankfully Ljubljana is a small city, and you can get to its heart from just about any direction within that time.The heart being Preseren Square, with the train station not to far away.

I grabbed a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black, which made the walk to Ljubljana Center a bit more scenic, in time for my train. Except instead of a train to Sevnica, I ended up boarding a bus to somewhere. That's jet lag for ya.Three hours later, and somewhere turned out to be Koper. A city far from the centrally located municipality of Sevnica, where Melania Trump, born Melanija Knavs is from.The Springtime sun lingered longer in the sky these days, still it wasn't enough to stave off the enervation brought on from a great distance traveled. Besides there wouldn't be another bus out of here until tomorrow, so I checked into a guest house that doubled as a bar.

If that sounds a bit confusing, its basically a family owned restaurant with a couple of spare rooms in the back for hunters. The place has no sign, or marquee and is cloistered deep in the woods near the Croatian border. Almost impossible to come across unless you know, or if you happen to have the misfortune of hiking in the woods, only to fall into the river nearby, and are carried downstream, and only then, provided, that the torrent isn't at all violent, and you are not washed pass the large, jagged boulder that forms a pool in front of the property. Then you can tell someone about Crazy Mario's. If ever you have the means, and are in the neighborhood, please drop in for a wine and gnocchi.Tell them Cam sent you.

Crazy Mario's

an undisclosed location

an undisclosed location


I awoke to Crazy Mario's voice -like a Slavic Elmer Fudd- yelling at pigs outside. A delicious breakfast of tripe and boiled sauerkraut soon followed. Elicija the waitress -fluent in the region's official languages of Slovene and Italian-offered me complimentary grappa, just for the opportunity to exercise her conversational English. We talked about the weather, polka music, and her concerns over the present refugee crisis sweeping through Central Europe.

"I just hope they steer clear from here." She said, heedfully.

Her concerns having nothing to do with xenophobic affections, but an actual concern for the lives of refugees who may accidentally wander into the path of drunken hunters and wild pigs in thick brush. She left my table and returned with more grappa. That is when I chose to ask her thoughts on the American presidential elections. To which she replied, she had not really been following but hopes the guy married to the Slovenian 'prasica' does not win.

Prasica? Does that mean prostitute? Prostitution was the first thing that came to mind. Don't ask. Is Melania Trump a prostitute? Did Donald Trump marry a prostitute? How many first ladies in history have been prostitutes? How come I never suspected, I frequent many prostitutes? Hmm... I frequently see many prostitutes... is what that should have read. Yes, that's it. I often take a late-night jog on the stretch of freeway between, the truck stop, and the Motel 6. Just keeping fit, ya know. It's here they litter the streets. The hookers. They trash the streets, I mean they are everywhere. By the time I was done rolling over these questions in my head, Elicija had returned to the kitchen, and I felt that problem I had several months ago, in the seat of my pants returning.

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I decided to stay on in Istria for a few more days, the reason being that my research would benefit from the greater appraisal of having asked people in different parts of the country about Melania Trump. I also discovered that Istria, a region shared by Italy, Slovenia, and Croatia is known for its Vegas-style casinos. This could only mean one thing; along with loose slots, there are sure to be loose women. Well, that's two things, but my foreboding over the seat of my pants had proven apparent, leaving little choice but to avoid sitting at lengths.

Ljubljana University

 Higher learning

Higher learning

At the Casino bar

In fact it would be better to avoid sitting altogether. So with gambling no longer a prospect, I began trolling the casino floor for people who might have an opinion on the current GOP front runners' wife. They say birds of a feather flock together. With that said I brushed past everyone who seemed reasonable, and capable of giving an unbiased opinion on a public figure,and approached some salaciously rowdy prasicas knocking about at the bar. The women welcomed me gleefully, thinking perhaps I was some foreign high roller -despite my thrift store togs -with money to burn.

They choked at the revelation that I made a living writing stories in the yellow press, but were still willing to offer me the three-for-one discount. A hell of a deal I must add, but a declination nonetheless. After several rounds of Campari, I learned a few things about Melania Trump and Slovenian prostitutes. At this, I should make it clear that the word 'prasica' does not mean prostitute and there isn't a word in Slovenian for gold digger. None of the prostitutkas( I don't think I need to tell you what that means) were able to confirm whether Trump had a history of hooking or gold-digging for that matter.

They did however refer to her has an unpatriotic 'prasica,' whom, from the moment she was aware, despised the very ground beneath her own feet. And swore to all, that she intended to be buried someplace other than the former Yugoslavian state. She even took measures to appear outlandish, going as far as Germanizing her name from Melanija Knavs to Melania Knauss. None of the women liked her.

The bartender with the Andrew Jackson hair cut, overheard bits of the conversation and rebuked us for mentioning the name of that "cat-faced kurba," We would have to find "someplace else" to drink if it happened again, to which we laughed hysterically. Turns out he wasn't joking, less than a minute later he heard the name Melania Trump and asked me to escort "these four kurbas" out of the casino.Who knew he was serious? The situation escalated when one of the prostitutes threw an empty glass. It turns out that prostitutes take ghastly offence to being called whores.

Melania Trump

A gargoyle on a bridge

A gargoyle on a bridge

Home and away

The police arrived and accused me of deriving financial gain from the prostitution of another.They took me away despite my attempts to convince them that in America pimps where big coats,with feathered fedoras, and a cane for balance. They weren't convinced, claiming that I knew a little too much about pimps and their clothing. I spent the the next four days in a very dark place. After my release into the custodial regard of the U.S Embassy, it was time for me to return home and write this article.

So in conclusion, I travelled a great distance, to find fodder to support my belief that Melania Trump is actually a prostitute, masquerading as a gold-digging milf. I hoped that in her native land I would find enough to support this inkling, but all I got was what I already knew. Her husband is a contemptible rag, that, and I found a great remedy for my hemorrhoids.

I flew all the way to Slovenia, and got nothing. To make matters worst my publisher rejected my article, now I have no paycheck to look forward to. I am so angry I could scream. So pardon any allusions to Trump being a prostitute or nightcrawler. It turns out she is just a regular bitch.Incidentally that is just what prasica means.


KyleUnlimited on March 30, 2016:

I bookmarked this article, days ago, knowing that I would be in for a laugh. Cam has impeccable comic timing! I would have read the article sooner, but it was about Melania Trump.

I do not care about Melania Trump! In fact, when I think of Melania, only one thought comes to mind. Does carpet match the drapes? Not on her, but on The Donald? Ew, right? I know. Sorry, Melania. Sorry, that you actually know the answer.

It was interesting, though not surprising, to discover what Slovenian locals think of Melania.

I wonder if Cam regrets declining the three-for-one discount for prostitutkas?

Lu on March 24, 2016:

It's really interesting, love it or hate it...

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