tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-118022562012-01-30T16:10:12.731ZECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.comBlogger3811100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-50832540665907728302012-01-28T23:27:00.001Z2012-01-30T12:45:24.742Z

As I discussed some years ago, Icelanders are very prone to trend mania, and just like a few years ago, I decided I had to try out the latest craze and see what it was all about. Last time I went through duty free, I bought the smallest size of the #1 best seller in the cosmetics department, the EGF serum. This thing has been gushed over on the international press, and stories go that women in

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-55424097236754539722011-12-29T09:43:00.000Z2011-12-29T09:43:43.193Z

A few months ago one of the members of my choir announced that she had a plan to make a disc of musical favorites related to New Year celebrations, and she wanted us to be part of the effort. The director whipped up a new arrangement of one of the Icelandic classics, and during our annual weekend retreat rehearsal, we performed it along with several other favorites to an attentive recording crew.

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-41755390248313782332011-12-12T23:36:00.000Z2011-12-12T23:36:17.874Z

Last week my choir held the usual Christmas concert that I've mentioned here before, and the event turned out to be one of those classic Icelandic evenings. This year's program was Bach's Magnificat, a glorious piece of baroque frivolousness, paired with a piece newly written over the past few months. The choir director has been in a composing program at school here, and decided to write a

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-18019306013500729322011-12-01T01:52:00.000Z2011-12-01T02:41:27.064Z

It's past midnight and in my little corner of Reykjavik, I just spent 10 minutes with my chin leaning on the edge of my bedroom skylight, propped slightly ajar. It's quiet below, the sidewalks glazed with a crust of ice, and above me curves a smudge of northern lights. Christmas decorations have gone up, so although the inhabitants are mostly asleep, the houses along my street glow with fairy

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com4Reykjavik, Iceland64.135338 -21.8952164.07992200000001 -22.0531385 64.190754 -21.737281499999998tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-4198268661370059352011-11-28T22:36:00.000Z2011-12-01T02:42:06.446Z

One of the things I love about being able to speak Icelandic is that it's given me access to the mysterious world of small talk, Iceland style. As you might expect, a lot of it is pretty much the same as it is anywhere else in the world. For example, a few weeks ago I was waiting for the bus and an elderly gentleman ambled up to wait at the same stop. During the few minutes we stood together, we

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-12311807846055790102011-11-21T11:10:00.001Z2011-12-01T02:42:44.788Z

on Saturday after a successful holiday shopping trip followed by coffee with a friend near downtown, I walked the long way home via Bræðraborgarstígur. The weather was starting to grow chill after a mild day, and a light drizzle had fallen during my coffee hours, so the dark pavement gleamed under the streetlights. This neighborhood is the postcode of so many parts of my life here, particularly

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-55766695530553336062011-11-18T01:08:00.001Z2011-11-18T01:34:16.611Z

I'm lying awake in the eerie silence of a still Icelandic night, wondering why when the wind howls I can't sleep, yet when it's still, I miss its busy lullaby. Why is it that when I most need it, sleep eludes? It's that time of year when everything is crowding together, trying to jumble in the decreasing gap between now and Christmas. There are those handcrafted gifts to finish, packages to post

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-13959323403462507022011-11-14T16:25:00.002Z2011-11-14T19:08:50.389Z

One of the recent news items has had me thinking a lot about this country, the people who live here and the people who visit. Late Wednesday, a young man called the emergency number to say he'd lost his way out on one of the glaciers in the south, and needed help. Teams from the volunteer rescue squads were immediately on the job, despite the call going out in the middle of the night. Over the

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-58129312775742668792011-11-12T11:41:00.002Z2011-11-12T11:51:30.052Z

eating my yogurt with bananas and toasted pecans, looking at the promise of today from three windows. To the south, the red berries still cling to the trees in the yard, although the chatter of starlings makes me wonder how long that will last. In the north, the rain-striped skylight looks to lowering clouds huddled over Esja. It's that time of year when Iceland spends more time shrouded in rain

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-80596772931300094152011-09-04T01:25:00.002Z2011-09-04T01:43:33.823Z

Walking home from a cozy evening with an international group of women, Danish jazz from a colleague in my ears, I just looked northwards and caught the first glimpse of the northern lights this year. The air was still balmy and full of the smell of green, and the breeze stirred it gently across my face as I walked. It got me to thinking about the strings of moments over the past months where I

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-14849104731623158452011-04-15T11:54:00.002Z2011-04-15T11:58:47.777Z

today's the day that officially we are all supposed to have removed our winter nail-tires. It's appropriately ironic that today I woke up to a white world, and since then it's been snowing on and off. The view outside my office is one of those classic Icelandic days, the sky aswirl with clouds and pierced by gentle shafts of sunlight. A crowd of seabirds has just taken off and are reeling against

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-31195530348440691442011-03-18T16:16:00.000Z2011-03-18T20:12:50.591Z

Ever since about a year into this blog, I've been getting emails from people asking me about ways to move here. They stopped abruptly at the beginning of October 2008 but always reappear in a spike during the first few months of the new year. I can't quite figure why, given how idle this blog is, but since it doesn't seem to be disappearing, this post is for all of you frustrated would-be

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-17908516742143515432011-02-02T23:50:00.000Z2011-02-02T23:50:00.714Z

The snow is just warm enough to slide down the window in lazy ribbons, accumulating in fractals along the lower sill, and my trustily unreliable streetlamp winks and flickers as always. The air is unusually still, so the snow billows beneath the illumination in ways remembered from childhood. Across the street one tiny tree on a doorstep still twinkles with ice-blue fairy lights, left from

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-52721775233380031862010-09-06T10:19:00.001Z2010-09-06T11:36:06.357Z

Last Thursday night the first real autumnal weather arrived, a howling wind that spattered rain on the bedroom windows and tore leaves from the trees. It roared all day Friday, bringing with it a strange high mist that blurred the edges of the landscape. Along with rain, this wind blew in the memory of Iceland when it's not summer.Every year as soon as the darkness disappears in late spring, the

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-8703302528996243422010-09-01T12:15:00.001Z2010-09-01T12:15:50.959Z

For Saturday's lunch I had an omelet covered with mushrooms I'd just picked. Iceland's got all kinds of interesting mushrooms sprouting up this time of year and I figured some of them must be edible but wasn't daring enough to figure it out on my own. So, I recruited a friend and longtime reader S for some help. She's trained in the forests of Germany, a country that seems to have made a

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-82970593492617234312010-08-27T10:44:00.002Z2010-08-27T11:17:03.890Z

I'm in my third month of being a downtown girl again, and after this last weekend, I think I'm a fan. My brother was in town for the weekend, one of the best in the whole Reykjavík activity calendar. First on the program, the Reykjavík marathon, a great race that offers distances for all types of runners- 3k for the kids and purely recreational folks, 10k and half marathon for the more ambitious

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-62320876018775614762010-07-29T12:17:00.002Z2010-07-29T12:39:23.214Z

this post inspired by Maya's comment about the smells of IcelandA few days ago we had unusual weather for Iceland- a light, low drizzle with absolutely no wind, the kind of day that I think is perfect for walking. I threw on my trusty Iceland-made raincoat and headed out towards Öskuhlíð's tiny forest. The path there is close with pine trees and moss, all sharply scented in the mist.From there I

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-22155796344733227832010-07-21T22:24:00.003Z2010-07-21T22:41:00.868Z

One of my favorite mini features of the pools here is the hlaupakort (running map). It's not exactly the kind of thing one goes expressly to visit at the pool but I think it's a brilliant idea. Each swimming pool has a large map tacked to the wall by the door where they've described running loops that start and end there, marked with distances and a short explanation of how to do it and what kind

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-90976229481580817502010-06-22T11:00:00.000Z2010-06-22T11:00:06.761Z

Here we are on an even year so that meant choir trip again! This year we returned to Italy, to Calabria, where the choir director's wife P comes from. She'd arranged a marvel of a trip that left us all breathless with the pace of everything but certainly having seen as wide a variety of landscape as can be achieved in just 7 days.We flew to Bologna and then to Lamezia Terme, then by bus to our

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-50641809817558990032010-06-20T18:30:00.000Z2010-06-20T18:35:55.193Z

I've just completed the move into my seventh home in Reykjavík, back in my original moved-to-Iceland postcode, and a few blocks from this place. It's a lovely old house from the 1930s with graceful proportions and funny little details like a frosted glass window on the narrow bathroom door, and a pantry. Unlike my last apartment, the ceilings here are so high I can only see into a third of the

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-83420557635151907932010-04-18T11:47:00.004Z2010-04-18T13:26:19.627Z

Yesterday was a perfect clear sunny spring day, so S decided it was time to see if he could collect samples of the volcanic ash for his research institute. We headed south along the ring road, passing the cars collected at Hellisheiði, and all along the road pass Selfoss who'd pulled over to gape at the plume that was so crisply visible on the horizon. From 70 km away it seemed surreal, beautiful

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-68206570100732783952010-03-26T09:57:00.004Z2010-03-26T10:36:21.563Z

By now I'm sure everyone's heard of the latest excitement to reach us here on the island. The volcano at Fimmvörduháls has even been covered by the revered news service at Fox to the delight and amuseument of most people here.So yesterday when the weather was clear and spring-like, S and I skipped out of the office early to see what we could see. At Hvolsvöllur we turned on to route 216,

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-16464684295190494662010-03-01T12:20:00.001Z2010-03-01T12:20:00.285Z

Over the past few months there's been some serious Iceland-or-not debate going on here, and for a while I thought I might be leaving the country. And yet, I'm still here and plan to stay for a while. Based on the world media and the currency and the dirty politicianing it might seem like the last place someone would choose to stay, particularly since I arrived here by following someone else's

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-89070342179748004092009-12-25T21:58:00.002Z2009-12-25T22:10:27.414Z

As I mentioned in my last post, Germans are extremely enthusiastic about the Christmas traditions, and many of them have migrated to America. One that I'd heard of years ago and continues to crop up regularly is that of the Christmas tree pickle. These things are readily available in stores and online in the US, described as this charming German tradition. The story goes that this glass pickle is

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-3868765348687804862009-12-24T23:02:00.003Z2009-12-24T23:25:42.018Z

Germans know how to do Christmas properly, from the gluhwein and the markets to the vast and ancient churches that host vesper services. The markets are a unique experience that no American replica I've visited has been able to reproduce faithfully. To start with, I've had the happy fortune to be able to visit one of the oldest and most famous of all the German markets, a festivity that consumes

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-79370330266129697612009-11-18T09:51:00.000Z2009-11-26T14:19:08.027Z

I was one of the fortunate invitees to a rather spectacular dinner on Saturday night, at the now famous blue house. One of the temporary house residents A, a restaurant owner from Germany, had been in Iceland for the autumn lamb slaughter season, learning about where exactly the food's coming from. He'd also started producing a new lamb sausage, a perfect marriage between the texture and

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-90707605363277154672009-11-11T13:18:00.000Z2009-11-11T13:18:00.303Z

After our first attempt to hail the departure of McDonalds failed, S was determined to try again, so we went again a few days later and braved the line for a final "góðborgari" for me and a McFish for him. As always, the food tasted exactly like the McDonalds in France or Canada or America (the only locations I've tried it) and came in the exact same packaging as always. Nothing special there

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-88769920209049229642009-11-10T12:37:00.001Z2009-11-10T12:39:24.805Z

Last Saturday I met one of the very few traffic engineers in Iceland, and we spent some time discussing how they're in the process of overhauling the timing of all the lights in town so that certain corridors have the "green wave" where you can hit greens all the way along. This was happy news, since only a few months ago I'd been having a conversation about how the number and timing of the

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-16468616273026331442009-10-27T21:57:00.000Z2009-10-27T21:57:00.745Z

So, the reason I was in Norway a few weeks ago was to start the next phase of the Norwegian project in Trondheim. My colleague had told me that I'd like the place, and my Norwegian friend K had lived there for three years, coming away with many good things to say. After my time in Oslo I was starting to think that Norway was a rather uncolourful and serious place, but my time in Trondheim has

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-47086586162443759412009-10-27T21:46:00.002Z2009-10-27T21:56:20.884Z

yes, the news reports on MSN and.. pretty much everywhere are true. Iceland is losing its McDonalds as of the first of November. The import costs what with the brave new exchange rate could no longer be justified, since they would have required a Big Mac to cost the equivalent of a rather decent meal downtown. Bargain meal no more.Since neither S nor I had ever tried McDonalds here in Iceland we

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-15923229079752969422009-10-12T10:49:00.004Z2009-10-12T10:57:00.689Z

On Friday I was due to fly back to Iceland but had heard from several people that the weather was not supposed to be particularly friendly, so when I landed in Oslo I started checking the airline website. Everything was cancelled going in or out of the domestic airport, but as far as I could determine there was no disruption whatsoever in the international arrivals.So off we went and just before

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-21686312351959338782009-09-24T10:37:00.001Z2009-09-24T10:39:28.632Z

As much as I love it here and all that, sometimes a girl's gotta escape. Last year the grand finale of the Norway project phase 1 coincided with the collapse of all the banks (literally.. the first bank collapsed the day before I left for Norway, and when the installation team returned to Iceland they'd all gone under), so since then I haven't had much chance to travel abroad for work. I've had

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-4126431343360745952009-09-16T09:55:00.001Z2009-09-16T10:10:25.381Z

I decided to say the heck with the kreppa and go all-out with my summer vacation, so I spent 3 weeks away during the month of August. The last week of the month I went to Martha's Vineyard (yeah, I booked my trip before Obama decided to be there at the same time) to see my parents, brothers, and my nephews that I last saw in 2007. Since then, my brother and his wife also bought one of the little

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-62583769279469779042009-09-07T15:15:00.001Z2009-09-07T15:26:51.386Z

Two weeks in Germany seems like a rather fat chunk of time but it ended up being only just enough to wish that there'd been more time to explore. Along our trek from north (my beloved Weimar) to south (Oberstdorf), from east (Frieburg) to west (Görlitz), we happened upon quite a few accidental delights in our relatively loose plan.One such happenstance occurred as we were making our way east from

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-55618985221274156792009-09-06T02:03:00.002Z2009-09-06T02:15:17.753Z

so I just spent some of the hottest weeks of the year in Germany, where I learned the value of summer dresses, cold radler, and shade.I already knew that Germans aren't as interested in air conditioning as we Americans are, which is fine when you're in a castle that breathes ancient cool from its stones, or a marvel of carefully engineered efficiency. The rest of the time, things can be a bit

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-64765059551016494882009-08-02T18:06:00.004Z2009-08-02T18:17:46.543Z

It's a forgotten delight that I have been absorbing as best I can while here in Germany, after having not seen a properly dark night during all these summertime months in Iceland. The days here are warm and moist but the evenings, after darkness falls, are positively magical. The first evening here, S and I took the long way through the forest and alongside the fields to the small Franconian

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-76978001290181107712009-08-02T17:34:00.002Z2009-08-02T18:06:31.121Z

I'm in Germany now, for my third-ever visit, and I'm still getting used to the special ways they do things here. For example, I am still marveling over the wonders of the German roadside food-stop.Less than two hours after stepping off the plane the first afternoon here, we stopped at a standard sort of rest area off the autobahn where I found myself confounded by the selection, and dazzled by

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-204173535628599022009-07-22T11:11:00.000Z2009-07-22T11:39:00.601Z

One of the staples of an Icelandic summer is the single use grill. These are available at every grocery store and discount shop, and often at most gas stations as well. They're an aluminum pan filled with coals, covered with a sheet of paper soaked in some lighter fluid, and topped with a metal mesh. The idea is that you can have all the joys of barbecuing without having to own all the

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-2460432236572844942009-07-07T09:56:00.000Z2009-07-07T10:06:18.861Z

The local English-language tourists-and-foreigners paper, the Grapevine, recently came out with its best-of-Reykjavík edition, ranking the best of everything from swimming pools to lobster soup. While most of them are places I totally agree with or have always meant to try, there are a few things I just must disagree with.For example, I don't get the hype over Sægrefinn's lobster soup. The

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-90973910771741065292009-07-06T09:56:00.000Z2009-07-06T09:56:29.407Z

The smell of white clover and angelica, the scent of ocean breeze on an otherwise oddly sultry day, that tangy mixed flavor coming from the short birches and the black cottonwood. It's the discovery of piny running paths on Öskuhlíð that almost feels like I'm not here in Iceland.The flavor of over abundant rhubarb baked into cakes, of grilled lamb and mushrooms stuffed with cheese, of new

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-49664602468714997912009-05-28T13:02:00.000Z2009-05-28T13:02:46.249Z

Earlier this week was the conclusion of the annual bike to work not-month-but-more-than-a-week, and as a bikeless person I contributed by walking to work on a few of the more sunny days. When yesterday turned out to have a promising forecast I set to again, even though my walk would no longer count towards the the tally for my company (during the bike-to-work event, the companies are grouped

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-18187543246075441402009-04-21T10:33:00.002Z2009-04-21T10:41:01.939Z

I've spent the last week visiting my friend T in Toulouse, a grand vacation from the turbulence of Iceland. We've done all the right girls-in-France things- shopping in the street market near her house for seasonal produce to make dinner, eating plenty of cheese in plenty of varieties, and drinking plenty of local wine that never seems to cost more than 4 euros for something extra delicious.

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-13044476318326713922009-04-11T08:07:00.004Z2009-04-11T11:16:11.009Z

So here we are in the middle of this particularly un-American holiday, the Easter break, which is a five-day stretch off work for almost the whole country.  It's a big deal for pretty much everyone all over Europe, and an excuse for much traveling in search of adventure.  Because I have to sing in the middle of the holiday, I'm usually sticking around town, but that doesn't mean a lack of

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-38654905554049019022009-02-07T11:30:00.001Z2009-02-07T11:35:23.446Z

So yes, I have not been writing much lately, and here's why:When every trip to the store is a reminder of the kreppa as the prices of everything have gone up here by 40isk, there by 200isk, I don't really want to spend more time writing about the experience here.I listen to it on the radio in the car, at work when my coworkers argue about who should do what next over lunch. Again, do I really

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-38552065221605143902009-01-09T08:40:00.005Z2009-01-09T12:01:25.342Z

I'd like to take a moment to mention how stupendously great my neighborhood is, since I have been enjoying the experience a lot lately. Here's why:Walkably close to a good cinema and the home of the Icelandic Symphony.A great grocery store, that while expensive, doesn't suffer from the same expiration date tragedy as my other store and contains all sorts of hidden delights in its tiny aisles.

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-82498696361325928552009-01-07T14:41:00.000Z2009-01-07T14:45:36.207Z

One of my latest peeves has nothing to do with the grand sweeping global economic woes- it has to do with my grocery shopping. My local Krónan is an American-sized big-box grocery store, complete with the trolleys, the vast landscape of coolers and acres of shelving. It seems that the customer demand is not in accordance with this scale though, as evidenced by the turnover in the dairy

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-4535948836406906932009-01-04T20:01:00.000Z2009-01-04T20:01:26.706Z

So I spent the Christmas in Germany, enfolded in the traditions, food, and family in southern Bavaria. It was a time of steely gray skies, all the better to enjoy the mulled wine in the famous Christmas Market, to enjoy the sausages, paired as gravely with specific types of mustard as a Frenchman would ponder his cheese and wine matching. It was a warm candle-lit chaos of German and English and

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-8227017297500676912009-01-01T20:06:00.003Z2009-01-01T20:36:07.031Z

New years in Iceland remains one of the most exuberant places to start things off with a bang. S and I returned from Germany in time to do it right, landing in the midst of the preliminary experimental explosions that are part of the dark days between Christmas and the 6th of January.But first, I had to sing in the gamlárskvöld mass in the church, an enthusiastic and relaxed service that ended

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-17842579839810959002008-11-28T14:45:00.000Z2008-11-28T14:49:04.649Z

November is the most difficult month for me here- the shrinking daylight, the chaos and lights of Christmas not yet begun, the drenchery, the wind, the interesting colds and flus brought from abroad. I've made an effort to only write when I'm on the more upbeat side so that's partly why I sometimes go stretches of time without saying much here.Thing is though, when I really look at how daily life

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-824476069392632482008-11-10T10:27:00.000Z2008-11-10T11:20:43.657Z

On Tuesday I went to the American Embassy's reception, where I stayed only long enough to see the state where I voted be the first to declare its tiny 3 votes for Obama, to see that of all the states in the union it had the highest percentage voting Obama. Then at home I watched more, as state after state went blue, then fell asleep and woke just in time for his speech in Chicago. It's an

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-25870384816538633592008-11-04T14:16:00.001Z2008-11-04T14:18:18.693Z

On Friday my office moved for the third time since I came to Iceland. I swear my destiny in this country is to put things into boxes and take them out again- six house moves and three office moves in three years is kind of a lot.But this move is the best yet. My commute is less than half as long (and at 16 minutes it was hardly a stress before), my post-work trip to the pool now only a few

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-37847813945021646532008-10-28T11:43:00.000Z2008-10-28T11:43:23.266Z

Somewhere along the way since my last post, it became winter here, with well-below-freezing temperatures, several snowstorms last week, and the glorious chaos that is the Icelandic approach to winterizing the roads (basically it seems to be "it'll melt eventually so why worry?" resulting in some interesting skating effects on the way to work). It's a bit harder to love Iceland now compared to

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-84356698074873681442008-10-15T14:52:00.001Z2008-10-15T14:55:32.354Z

so apparently I have to be extrasupercareful what I write here, as both the Guardian in the UK and several other sources have picked up excerpts of my entries in the past few days. This location seems to be disinclined to believe what I write, but in spite of the article going round a few days ago about Icelanders in a panic over food, I'd like to once again say that people are NOT. The shops I

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-74553275202602354822008-10-11T13:17:00.000Z2008-10-13T14:13:01.003Z

This morning dawned perfectly October so I strapped on my rollerblades and went out along my favorite route by the sea. A bright blue windless day, it was the perfect time to enjoy the autumnal colors of landscape- the orange kelp thrown up on the beaches, the wheated grass, the mossy color of the seaweed, peppered with eider ducks. Across the bay, Esja slumbered stoically, unchanged in the

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-87598873791187061332008-10-09T10:04:00.000Z2008-10-09T10:58:40.573Z

Yesterday morning was one of those beautiful magic-light and pink clouds that make me remember why I love it here. It's hard right now, since the chaos that has hit the international news is unfolding here around my ears. Just like with the earthquake a few months ago, I've been getting questions from people all over, asking me if we're bankrupt, if I'm ok, so here it is.The thing is, for the

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-54063057110267447152008-09-16T18:53:00.003Z2008-09-16T22:39:51.926Z

writing to you from a tiny village in Donegal now, where I have come for a week to visit with my friend M and learn a bit about Ireland. Along the way we've had a bit of help from various people pointing us to the proper pubs, a certain friendly feeling that's caused impromptu song and conversation, and a studious dog that just this afternoon led us on the walk we ought to have along the

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-77990183062357634482008-08-14T22:27:00.005Z2008-08-15T11:18:26.273Z

I'm at home in my new house, baking tea bread just like my mama taught me when I was a kid. The bananas from the last rousing highland trip didn't all get eaten and were too brown for museli consumption so I did the merciful thing and mashed them for baking. It's the recipe from the New York Times cookbook my mom got as a newlywed in 1968. I found the same edition for 3 dollars at a used

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-86213190104977571422008-07-08T16:22:00.003Z2008-07-08T16:37:15.606Z

I finally uploaded photos of my recent trips to the US (starting here, scrolling forward) and to Estonia/Finland, and finally a bit of more locally available highland charm (scroll forward).Hopefully that saying about a picture being worth a thousand words will hold in this case since my time is currently devoted to putting things in various satchels and portmanteaus as I prepare for a trio of

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-5642842925376832252008-07-04T11:08:00.002Z2008-07-04T12:03:05.674Z

Once again in my second home in Norway, it's been a week of the most perfect weather I could imagine. A balmy 75f/25c has made everyone relaxed with positivity, from the security and check-in people at the airport to the waitresses at all the restaurants I ate at this week. There may not be a lot of incredibly hot weather here but it does seem that everyone enjoys it tremendously. The

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-25073784664453675452008-06-26T13:30:00.001Z2008-06-26T13:31:55.328Z

France has its dogs, Iceland has its cats. People aren't dressing them up in little jackets and bringing them to cafés here, but walk down any side street and you'll see them shadowing into cracked-open windows, crouching under cars, curled on windowsills inside, and skulking through the gardens on nearly every street. At night the yowls of their battles drift through the windows.On sunny days

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-48276698214630284162008-06-22T18:35:00.002Z2008-06-25T11:39:49.729Z

It's been a busy month, as you might have guessed from the lack of posting. Since last I wrote, I've been back to the US once, and moved to a new home. And now, the only thing that must be pondered is the incredible weather and the impossible green that is summertime Iceland. The transformation still alarms and enchants, and this year I get to enjoy it from the comfort of my very own miniature

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-82451971272550942232008-05-29T16:55:00.003Z2008-05-29T23:05:57.016Z

Apparently both the BBC and CNN thought our lil afternoon delight was newsworthy enough to report worldwide, so I figured I'd just mention to all my worried email-writers that yep, we felt it plenty well here in my office building, and a thing or two fell over, but otherwise nobody did a thing, and it's business as usual here in the capital area.Reports from further east are still arriving so I

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-36197451574476569312008-05-23T11:49:00.002Z2008-05-23T11:57:24.224Z

This morning was so fragrant and gently sunny that I really had no choice but to do a morning swim. It was predictably good, full of honey-colored sunrays filtering through my outstretched fingers. On one side-breath to the left though, I noticed a cluster of people in the stands above the pool, their clothes marking them as a crowd of not-from-these-parts. They dutifully gathered around a

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-789090267548462242008-05-22T10:06:00.000Z2008-05-22T10:30:09.488Z

One thing that Icelanders absolutely love that has taken a bit of getting used to for me is the Signing of the Guestbook. Sure, there are guestbooks in the US, at weddings, at art openings, at other kinds of important receptions, but here they are at spots both large and small. In order to commemorate your presence there, it is essential to leave your name in the book, with or without comment.

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-7993853372864942052008-05-21T11:11:00.000Z2008-05-21T11:12:30.760Z

We returned from the days in Tallinn to the mayday celebrations in Helsinki, a town that had not impressed at first view but grew on me quickly in the subsequent days. It's a bit like if you exploded lower Manhattan into a whole city, and sprinkled it with many more parks and better sea access. The buildings are heavy on the teens to Deco, and the bricks haven't gotten the coal-infused hue of

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-12978400887837348632008-05-16T10:23:00.004Z2008-05-16T10:55:53.799Z

Today I did my swim in the morning, and afterwards joined the crew in the steam room. If you're after 8:30 but not quite to noon, the crowd is notably vintage, so I was the only person under 80 in the whole place. So I'm sittin there enjoying the heat when the entire steam room population of about 12 people suddenly erupts into song. The voices were a bit quavery and only one dude ventured

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-33965881162194036252008-05-15T08:36:00.003Z2008-05-15T10:42:01.406Z

I've mentioned that in the deepest winter there's that time that happens here in the summer that makes it all worth it, and yesterday was one of those days. Since I returned from Oslo, the days were solidly and nearly unrelentingly all about the cloud, so yesterday when it was warm enough for t-shirts and with only the slightest of breeze, the entire Icelandic nation went outside. I arrived at

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-24686473837555561162008-05-06T22:52:00.001Z2008-05-07T07:51:54.010Z

Returned to Iceland yesterday from Helsinki, and this morning I was yet again in the airport on my way to Oslo. When I grumbled about this to my wise friend J, he pointed out that you can't have the jet-setting without the jet, so off we go again.The trip to Estonia and Finland was all the things a choir trip ought to be- lots of singing, so much that we got thrown out of a bar in Helsinki for

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-50417047747621873582008-04-28T19:47:00.003Z2008-04-28T19:59:53.802Z

I have just arrived in Tallinn this evening, where the music is tinny and cheesy, and the keyboard is constructed with curious trapezoidal keys. To get here, I flew with my choir (on yet another of those famous Icelandic Choir Tours) to Helsinki this morning. Upon arrival we were deposited at the massive ferry terminal in the center of town to while away a few hours drinking Lapin Kulta and

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-2696160037997631012008-04-22T12:09:00.000Z2008-04-22T12:10:02.720Z

I'm about to come up on my third anniversary since I came to Iceland to try to find a job. At the time, the reasons I came were quite different than the reasons I'm here now. It's been nearly three years of all kinds of unexpected, and every time I'm in the airport, a place of unlimited possibilities, I think again about what it is that keeps me in Iceland versus the thousands of other places I

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-15691517112440979382008-04-14T21:46:00.003Z2008-04-14T22:05:13.053Z

Back in Oslo for yet another sojourn, I've realized that there are a few things that are marking my passage into really being an Iceland dweller, moreso than any work/residence permit status.namely:I was at the pool here the other day and couldn't figure out why my pre-swim shower n' scrub was being observed with perplexity, then I realized that there was no sign instructing you to scrub all your

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-24411014871006238612008-04-04T10:14:00.001Z2008-04-14T22:10:42.119Z

Iceland has rewarded our suffering through the soggy autumn with a stretch of lovely days in the past month, so this week I have begun the search for the perfect morning swim-in-the-sun. A few mornings ago I tried the early shift at my new obsession-pool in Seltjarnarnes.The pool staff was still cleaning the pool, sucking the black sand that had blown in during the winds the night before, so the

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-89401726270259196842008-03-16T13:14:00.000Z2008-03-16T13:14:00.899Z

Since I returned from Norway, I've spent nearly all my time in Akureyri, while my new life and room in Reykjavík lie empty and unused, cellophane-wrapped like a fresh pound cake. It's been 2 weeks of nearly daily snow squalls, the gentle kind that fall freshly yet fail to actually accumulate, the snow of movie sets and Nutcracker dance sequences.While in the north, I've had plenty of offers to

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-44856670398643632792008-02-24T12:39:00.003Z2008-02-25T11:57:36.018Z

I have been coming to Norway now for several months and have felt that I never quite "got it". The Norwegians I work with are all quite pleasant and polite but keep their distance, and the explorations of Oslo have been pleasant but not astounding or recommend-to-others fascinating.However, this time my trip has involved spending a weekend here, and one of the Norwegians I work with, B, invited

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-72625711065114057152008-02-17T13:12:00.005Z2008-02-17T16:10:54.649Z

After a week of work in Norway, I returned to Iceland for the annual pre-season training trip for the choir, the vocal equivalent of the early spring rowing training in college, where we'd go south and row ourselves silly for a few days.The choir trips are a bit shorter, a bit less strenuous, and for some reason always seems to take place on weekends of exceptionally bad weather, like the first

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-8760271004631150532008-02-05T23:44:00.000Z2008-02-06T12:41:49.484Z

Morning in Reykjavík. It's the blue gray light from which Esja emerges from the kitchen window in my new flat, the thunk of the heavy outside door with its counterintuitive lock (turn towards the door to unlock, not away).It's the scraping of tires getting out of the parking space, onto the narrow road that's never plowed, two tracks of glassy ice with a hump of solid snow in the center. Right,

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-12766067471556730832008-02-01T09:48:00.001Z2008-02-01T10:00:17.331Z

After hearing about them about 3 years ago for the first time, I finally saw glitský this morning. These peculiar high atmosphere clouds are a rare phenomenon in far northern places, and are one of the other rewards of the extended sunrise period in the wintertime.My commute this morning had me heading straight towards them, so for once I wanted the stop lights to last for as long as they liked,

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-2771742004116612482008-01-28T09:46:00.000Z2008-01-28T10:45:47.545Z

I know that many people who consider moving north fear the darkest months, when it can seem like you never see day, so here's a list of the things that have made this January manageable and even entertaining.the car. Sad to say that this has made the biggest difference, but when you're talking snow being blown into interestingly sculptural drifts by hurricane force winds, it matters to not be

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-56886073062073292622008-01-24T12:55:00.000Z2008-01-24T12:58:07.958Z

about this recent report from the Daily Show on Iceland's troop in Iraq. Unlike some skits I've seen about the one Icelandic soldier, this one was actually filmed here.Part one was from the 22nd, part two from yesterday.

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-29646638440323786552008-01-21T11:07:00.000Z2008-01-21T11:06:51.538Z

Last week I got a letter in the mail from the Icelandic Statistics Office, saying I'd been randomly selected from the national registry along with about two thousand other people to research technology and internet habits of the Icelandic population. It was accompanied by a little pamphlet showing the results from previous surveys, with that oft-quoted statistic that Iceland is the most wired

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-4441148345859813652008-01-20T10:41:00.000Z2008-01-20T10:58:27.508Z

while I was away, Iceland got busy covering things up more than they'd already been covered, so K and I landed in a mini-blizzard yesterday and had to shove the car out of the drift it had gotten nicely tucked into while we were away. It's a rather sporty thing with open wheels so the packed snow caused peculiar effects on the vehicular balance, so we tried to pull over to do something about it

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-25893017108533170522008-01-16T22:52:00.000Z2008-01-16T23:52:18.223Z

back in Norway again, where the weather is less scandi-wonderland than the country I left on Tuesday.K and I drove to the airport in a sprightly snowstorm, and true to his Viking roots, K was more confident and optimistic about things than the car could deliver. we ended up shoveling ourselves into the parking space before departing, so the weather had better warm up a bit before we return or

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-22751569995438185072008-01-11T12:46:00.001Z2008-01-11T13:15:15.982Z

one of the things I've learned while spending time driving this past week is that the radio in the commute-time evening contains 2 things: news, and people calling in and talking about random stuff. They have idle quizzes about certain bands and then after 20 minutes of slow Icelandic talking, will play a song or two, and then repeat.None of the stuff is particularly controversial or full of hot

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-22661982376219849322008-01-11T10:58:00.000Z2008-01-11T12:33:33.365Z

I'm sitting in my new office space, watching the sunrise pink fade over the new huge view I have, encompassing most of Esja, Akrafjall, and the spine of Snæfellsness. In spite of the late sunrise, it's hard to be too unhappy in a place that offers this much sky-space, all trimmed with mountains.For it's January in Iceland, and time for changes and remembering that the light is indeed returning.

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-38708926134595673802007-12-27T12:49:00.000Z2007-12-28T13:53:04.841Z

Shopping in Nice is an adventure if it's done properly, which has to include the Saleya street market. It's the kind of place where a smile will bring a special discount on your onions, where the barrel-chested North Africans selling celery sing songs as they stack their wares, where the bread ladies kiss half their clients in holiday greeting. It's where going to the furthest end of the market

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-1478951694883676632007-12-19T22:58:00.000Z2007-12-19T23:33:23.904Z

writing today from Paris, where I met my younger brother in the airport this morning. This is the city of my first experience abroad, when I called my parents from a phone booth opposite the Eiffel tower, a college girl giddy on her first real "I did it myself" experience.It's now my fourth visit here, and I'm finding that after a few hours, my ear for Parisian French has returned, and with the

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-33848666188506333632007-12-11T12:33:00.000Z2007-12-11T12:38:55.762Z

On a blustery, rain-swept Tuesday, nothing's better for lunch than plokkfiskur, the Icelandic twin of my mom's homemade macaroni and cheese. Cubed potatoes mixed with white fish and plenty of sauce are topped with cheese and baked until toasty. It goes down easy with cracked pepper sprinkled on top and dense slices of dark brown bread spread with butter on the side.I just discovered that the

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-75135698411770200352007-12-10T12:27:00.000Z2007-12-10T17:50:30.603Z

December darkness is something that I once feared and that may seem like a terrifying thing to people from brighter places. Most Icelanders I've talked with find it to be something that one simply deals with, or in some cases, embraces.On still days and nights when not a single branch twitches nor dead leaf rustles, it's a time full of witching hours, these hours that stretch from black to sunup

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-11050761768237037002007-12-05T11:09:00.000Z2007-12-05T11:09:35.783Z

This week's been the last few rehearsals before our Big Concert on Thursday. We're singing "L'Allegro, Il Penseroso ed il Moderato" by Handel, a solid few hours of music with a little bit of everything- grandeur, speed, solemnity, frivolity, every pairing of vocal range, large and small ensembles, and a passel of Baroque instruments. It's so very much like all those times in high school when

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-27979867393359644872007-11-23T11:07:00.000Z2007-11-23T11:08:56.730Z

Alternative energy sources and carbon footprints are the big hot discussion worldwide these days, and I often see footage and articles in which Iceland is held up to be a grand example of greenitude. I will not deny that the geothermal heat infrastructure is amazing- the heating here is the most efficient, silent, and comfortable I have experienced anywhere, and I love thinking of it coming

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-10068247894352230412007-11-20T12:22:00.000Z2007-11-20T14:38:47.352Z

I've written plenty about the crappy, miserable, sorry, soggy weeks we've been having here lately, but what I haven't mentioned is those few Sundays of glorious respite there have been interspersed. I took photos a few weeks ago of one of those days, and last Sunday was another. Just at freezing, perfectly still, and crisply sunny, the perfect day for the 45 minute walk to Laugardalslaug from

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-54506684512996482882007-11-12T19:53:00.001Z2009-11-10T13:17:24.820Z

went to buy milk today and it's time for the ol' Gleðileg mJÓLk already. This is the good times that can be had with the word for milk (mjólk) and the phrase for "merry christsmas" (Gleðileg Jól), and the resulting oh-so-festive packaging that comes along with.Most readers here seem to already be Icelandophiles and therefore probably know about the bizarre and definitely original tales of the

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-81717362276579630472007-11-11T22:02:00.000Z2007-11-11T22:05:05.756Z

Beyond Brussels were so many worthwhile things to see, so many that it is nearly impossible to decide what I liked best. All of it was the perfect, classic European vacation, with plenty of café time, ye olden alleyways, a couplea excellent bridges, and not one but TWO supercool and authentic castles. Thanks to L's bilingual superbness, we got an earful from an ancient Flemish-speaking lady

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-78213589870192748402007-11-02T18:07:00.000Z2007-12-10T17:54:18.949Z

Writing this evening from a mist-shrouded Brussels, where I am visiting my friend L for a bit of cultural escape. Yesterday I flew to Amsterdam on an orchestral plane, full of a Russian symphony and all their double basses. Ten minutes after collecting my suitcase I was on a vintage Dutch train zipping through the farmland outside Amsterdam.2some hours later I was in Brussels, where L collected

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-67993138993592307632007-10-27T16:51:00.000Z2007-10-27T17:16:30.813Z

I just got a whizz-bang new phone that has a camera, so I can finally show off the rollerblading trip I do that renews my faith and love for this odd land. It starts along Snorrabraut, then towards the airport and down past the fake beach at Nauthólsvík. Then I wrap around the airport and make towards Vesturbær, where I pass the little fish embedded in the pavement and the fishing sheds left

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-7783084489801602682007-10-25T22:52:00.000Z2007-10-25T22:54:11.052Z

I did not go to any of the acts here over the weekend as part of the well-publicized Airwaves festival, but I did go to a few of the many hanger-on events that were scheduled for the same weekend, hoping to capitalize on the higher concentration of hipper-than-thou folk in town.On Friday I went to the opening reception of the home and design show. Held in Laugardalshöllin, it was supposed to

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-26792194638689099662007-10-12T08:44:00.000Z2007-10-12T08:47:39.411Z

One of the staples of any Iceland resident's social calendar is árshátíð, the annual company party. This is not an awkward Office-style gig where you buy a couplea cheap paper tablecloths, a jug of booze (if your company even deems it appropriate to have alcohol), and some deviled eggs, but rather an all-out extravaganza of those guys you only see in jeans and socks-n-tevas wearing ties and

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-19061166986233320942007-10-07T21:13:00.000Z2007-10-07T21:19:23.738Z

These past few evenings, when I look out my kitchen window, in a location to the north about mid-Esja, there's an alarmingly bright spotlight shining directly at the sky, a la USA grand stadium. Is this the call for Batman? A sign to planets beyond that the intelligent life is really to be found here on this tiny island, so don't waste your time with Paris, New York, or London? Iceland's way

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-21889215562454003512007-10-05T10:00:00.000Z2007-10-05T09:57:01.922Z

September and October are my favorite months usually- crisp air, bright leaves, a chance for scarves, coats, and wool. This year though, it seems like it has almost never happened, with the nearly endless rainstorms, and the high winds of last week that ripped off most of the leaves before they had a chance to go colorful. Last year it was a proper fall here, and the trip to Vermont would take

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11802256.post-86093611603864646262007-09-21T12:46:00.000Z2007-09-21T22:24:57.067Z

This week I've been thinking of things that now fill my brain that I wasted not a care on before, and realized that it has replaced some stuff that was front-and-center in my head in the old days. I started making a mental list of the remembering/forgetting items, and in the interest of freeing up that brainspace, it's going down on this site.Things I don't have to think about anymore now that I

ECShttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03980638224399713624noreply@blogger.com7