Southeast Iceland: Fog patches. Moderate or good.

Attention All Shipping, by Charlie Connelly

Sometimes it is hard to fall asleep as the days get longer and brighter and you are tucked up in bed, the curtains drawn, the blackout blind pulled down and your head under the covers but yet the light still intrudes. I am joyously welcoming the spring but am already recalling that this change in seasons and increased light also means that the time for sleep is over and the time for all night wakefulness, parties if you can summon the energy and lying awake at 3am, not really feeling too tired, thinking about what to do tomorrow, what you did today, fond memories of the past or occasional regrets and what ifs, is here.

Last Friday in the pub I was reminded, as we Brits met around 10 at night, a good 3 hours prior to the downtown migration of the locals and the fully integrated, of what I had always thought of as a very British tradition. And now I feel it might have other uses. The Shipping Forecast.. for years I wondered why fog and showers were moderate to good. I always hated stepping out of the back door (where I am from the front door never was opened, it was just decorative) and getting soaked, and to this day I hate to get a wet face in cold northern rain.

Now as I remember and listen to the forecast on the internet (my link to BBC radio 4) I feel comforted, and even more comfortable when the conversation reveals that Iceland has it too .. or at least a coastal forecast.. Veðurfregnir. I always thought it was some British institution, even after reading "Attention All Shipping" - recommended. "Sitting at home listening to the shipping forecast can be a cosily reassuring experience. There's no danger of a westerly gale eight, veering southwesterly increasing nine later (visibility poor) gusting through your average suburban living room, blowing the Sunday papers all over the place and startling the cat." (Charlie Connelly). I don´t know why I stuck with that idea that it was British after all I am no great lover of all things British (though sausage and mash has grown on me since leaving home soil). I think it always sounded so quaint that it had to be as British as cream tea or eggs with soldiers (I bet someone comes along and tells me that is American) to a land-based creature like me.

Ó tells me that it is not as it used to be; it used to sound much more sad, and I wonder if this is true of the British Shipping Forecast. The again, perhaps it was being woken at 5am to go out to sea that put a melancholy twist to the tone of that beautiful, gently meditative poetry.

So now I think I might have found my cure for summer sleeplessness and resultant nostalgia. What could be more relaxing than falling asleep to the shipping forecast? I can´t use the Icelandic one.. it is a rare example of gently, slowly spoken Icelandic which I might stand a chance of understanding and it might keep me thinking. For now I´ll stick with North Utsire South Utsire, Dogger, Fisher and I´ll lend a thought to where I am falling asleep when they reach Viking. Maybe I should look for those old recordings, monotone would be even better for sleep. How many sailors drifted off before their sector was reached? Have a listen, aren´t they good, even if a little modernised and jaunty?

Southwest Iceland: West 1. Moderate. Occasional showers. Good. But still sleepy.

Já punktur ís

Today I reached a level of acceptance about living in Iceland that I see as something of a turning point, or at least a recognition of reality. Not a decision to stay by any means, I hasten to add, not signing a lease or a mortgage for a flat bigger than the shoe box which some might consider to be a better sign of really deciding to stay (investing in that shaky thing, Icelandic property in 2008).

I finally reached a suitable level of Icelandic understanding to make my way through the online phone book and sign myself up to be included, findable, trackable, available for communication. I should soon be found on ja.is.

Another milestone today.. I arranged an appointment over the telephone entirely in Icelandic. It seems rather miserably small-scale but communicating, understanding and being understood have been issues which have separated me over the last few years from really feeling part of Iceland. I did have to ask for the date again.. I´d never heard of the 80th of May before. Still a little shaky on those numbers.

Feeling a little bit smug!

Sabbatical over, perhaps

I thought I´d drop by and say hi and comment on the weather and the lengthening days in Iceland.

Snow showers and sun are alternating, toying with my optimism by offering the carrot of spring and then slapping me in the face with another unnecessary helping of sleet, snow or a howling gale to blow me off my not-wintery-enough shoe-clad feet. This second there is sunshine, blue skies and a dusting of snow on Esja.

Jóhann Ísberg´s photo of Esja looks similar to the view today.
Perhaps it will all change tomorrow.

I´ve been busy thinking about ceilidhs but just now we are searching for a drummer to allow us to continue getting up on stage and making a lot of noise for folk to dance to. If you play the drums and live in or near Reykjavík please get in touch.

On top of that I´ve been dreaming.. of books and book stores and sitting in continental cafés for hours alternately burrowing my head in a good novel, sipping a hot chocolate and watching the world go by. One day I will open a good book store where I would want to spend time. I will serve homemade fruit loaf and let people pick their own mint from a pot in the window to make their tea. I dream of folk gathering to knit of an evening in the cosy atmosphere or to talk about their latest books chosen from the theme of warm sunny countries in winter and long starry nights in the summer and exchanging reading rights to students for book reviews in Icelandic.

Recently, I read an interesting blog about a woman in Scotland setting up her own book shop, not far from Edinburgh (Inkspot and Silverleaf Booksellers). One of her recommended book stores is Shakespeare and Company, set on the left bank of the Seine, looking over to Notre Dame de Paris. This is a key indicator of her wonderful taste and hopefully bodes well for the future and atmosphere of her new shop. Shakespeare and Company is perhaps the best book shop in the world.

Shakespeare and Company, Paris

Meanwhile I am actually actively and busily employed on a variety of projects in geology: learning how to tame the technology of ArcGIS to make beautiful, useful and accurate hazard maps, which can be clever enough to lend a hand at analysis to give the pocket calculator and map pens a rest; collecting information for a database on all people and projects to do with marine geology around Iceland which is proving a fun way to meet new people here and is turning up a few gems of knowledge that apply to my other work and interests; modeling volcanic ash fall from the majestic volcano Hekla. Day in day out I sit at the beautiful wooden, carved desk that Sigurður Þórarinsson once sat at, studying the ash of Hekla and the great eruption of 1947 among many other things including penning a few lively folk songs and I hope some of his wisdom, breadth of knowledge and great motivation to publish will seep into my veins. I take heart from his song-writing times that mixing folk music, ceilidh dancing and geology can be good for the soul and general productivity.

Ceilidhs to warm us up, up here

We played ..
Photo taken by Jonas Damulis

I´ve been gone for a while from here but thought I´d drop by. The ceilidh world in Iceland has become busy this month with Vetrahátið (winter festival) and various yearly festivals among companies trying to find something novel to do this year to cheer up their winter-weary employees.

Vetrahátið was primarily marked by .. snow, storms, crazy wind .. well, winter really, and a proper winter at that. Yippee.. there have been so many weeks of snow here that I have lost count. I need 4x4 to get the little jeep out of the car park by our house because it has been covered in ice for weeks. Maybe we should call it Fossvogsjökull. I think that could be an excellent address. Last weekend the winter decided to really kick in and be festive (for the festival). Big snow drifts piled up against the house and frost rimmed the doorways.. we had to break into our own home! The police even asked people to stay at home, quite something for a country where folk head out into the highlands in January in crazily big jeeps or where 25 metres per second is a mild breeze.

So, on the most wintry night of the winter we headed into town, against the advice of the police.. to our first big venue.. The Reel Thing played at NASA! Woohoo! And people danced!

..and they danced at NASA.
Photo by Jonas Damulis.

So, the next one is on Friday 22nd. If you´re in town come along, we´ll be just by the pond at Iðnó, at the gap in the ice where the ducks and swans and geese are hoping for another bit of bread. Poor things. You can walk right across the pond just now. I want to go skating but maybe I´d need a small snowplow in front.

Hopefully I´ll drop by here again at the weekend with some snow pictures before it all melts, once I´ve got all the Dashing White Sergeants and Gay Gordons from spinning around my head.