This week I'm going to be changing my perspective on Reykjavik with a new apartment. After living for six months in a situation that I thought was going to be temporary, I'm going to finally have all my stuff in one place. The new apartment is a style that appears often in the area where I will be living. Built in the 1930s, it's kind of ordinary looking on the outside, but comfortable and cozy inside, and contains several of the odd original details like the super-short woodn railing in the stair hall, the wavy glass in the door to the kitchen, and bedroom cupboards with original handles. It's so typical of the area that I realized that it's the mirrored floor plan of a friend's place three streets away, and is even reminiscent of where I've been staying for the past six months. I guess it's a layout they like in Iceland.
I'm going to have a new local pool, new grocery stores, new church bells to listen to, and new views, and although it's downtown, I still have a front yard and back yard complete with clothesline. This is what I love about Reykjavík. I'm in the center of the capitol city and I can still have air-dried sheets.
Other than that, things have been rather Januaryish. I was in the country over the weekend, in a location that must be spectacular in clear weather, but yesterday was mostly just soggy. Still, there's magic in the mist, and the nice thing is that when the weather's warm like that, the air exudes that ultra-fresh smell that I have only experienced here. It's one of the things I miss most when I'm away- that alive, things-are-always-growing kind of fragrance that hits you the instant you step out the door at the airport. It's something people here seem to take for granted sometimes, knowing you can open the window and have the kind of air that, if it could be bottled and sold, would be on the shelves in stores next to the most exclusive designer-style imported waters. Drink up!