The Lairig Ghru never disappoints

Wow! A vital ingredient for happiness. 

 

November in the Lairig Ghru. I packed all my warm clothes, my waterproofs and extra dubbin ... but I forgot the sunscreen. 

Intellectually, I know these places are important habitats, that the trees in the distance are one of the few remnants of the Caledonian Pine Forest, that these terraces and ridges are the marks of past glaciers with ice-marginal lagoons dotted with icebergs, that the broad, distant valley was once filled with a great ice stream. All this is amazing, but there is something that isn't quite so conscious, more primitive that makes this place really special for me: peace and perspective, feeling the wind on my face, smelling the heather... being able to focus city-living eyes beyond the neighbouring tenement and next-door's recycling bin; a half-forgotten memory of being lured up a wee hill as a lass with the promise of a kit-kat at the top; a mountain-goat style clamber as a teenager through here on Cairngorm Mountain Rescue Team sponsored walks. Happy to be "home".

More than a year in Scotland

Somehow a year has passed since the massive Samskip container was parked outside our flat and 4 men, 2 grandparents, one baby and I emptied it in the space of about 10 minutes. Throughout, the traffic warden, a great bear-like man, prowled about and gave warnings of hefty fines.

Since then we've missed two eruptions, got married, Hazel learnt to crawl, sleep through the night (phew), turned one, then started walking two weeks later when staying with her Scottish grandparents. She learnt to climb, to dance, and now is perfecting talking  (salsa, salsa, more, more, tango, tango..). Óli has started writing mobile phone apps and I am addicted to spinning his (and H's) game hedgehog around his phone screen. I am writing papers and doing some teaching and enjoying being back around some of my old friends, the old building where I studied before and the new library which is all fancy and shiny and a wonderfully quiet place to hide and work. We have been lucky enough to meet some lovely new friends and to get back in touch with old ones. We miss Icelandic friends, friends and family in Iceland and the wonderful folk sessions. We are growing plants - but outside, not on our windowsill and are already munching on the fruits of our seed sewing. As much as possible on sunny days like today we live in the little garden and Hazel is trying her best to cuddle all the local cats (and today a spider). All the cats and the spider have so far resisted her charms. I think perhaps chanting "meeow, meeow, meeow (mjá, mjá, mjá) " and running at high speed with arms outstretched towards them doesn't help.

A wedding under the trees and a ceilidh in the byre

Ever since being a little girl I dreamt of getting married under the trees in my parents garden and I remember hearing Dad joke that if I got married we could have a dance in the byre - I thought that was a pretty good idea. So, I met a really great guy and he didn't think it was crazy. The pagan priest who we asked marry us did think it was crazy, which is why he agreed to fly over to Scotland from Iceland to marry us. And so many people that are important to us were able to come too, travelling from Scotland, Iceland, England and France. I started writing out here all the wonderful things people did to help but the list is soooo long. We are lucky to have such kind friends and families.

My Dad and my sister accompanied me to the tree cathedral and my old school friend piped us in.

Hazel ate my bouqet while we listened to Alsherjagoði

Óli sang "Ég fann þig" (I found you) for me. 

I had no idea he was going to and I'd never heard him sing before.

and he and his friends played great folk music

Every party needs a Cumberland Square Eight

Keeping us busy

Hazel and Kate at Reykjavík Zoo

Hazel and Óli cooking

A lack of blog posts because Hazel Ósk is keeping us busy and we are packing, packing, packing to move back to Scotland. however, I´ve just discovered Picasa some maybe more in the future.. or more once we are back in the UK, perhaps as Letters to Iceland.

Hazel Ósk

Just home from the hospital

Our daughter, Hazel Ósk, was born on 28th August. She is now a little more than 5 weeks old and is doing fine. We are learning how to look after and what her different squeaks and calls mean. We are very thankful that she is a calm, generally happy baby and sleeps well at night. We were both really delighted by the great support we had in the hospital and that we were lucky enough to have two midwives from Neskaupstaður helping us through the birth.

I am amazed how the details of her birth have faded and gone fuzzy already. I do recall though that the birth took longer than I expected and I was very tired since I was too excited to sleep when the contractions started during the night .. but all of us were fine afterwards. I was so glad Óli could stay with me and help with lots of support and affection. I am now amazed that our time is taken up with a small selection of little tasks which rapidly fill the day. However, we have been venturing out more and more and have been for several walks and taken Hazel with us to the music sessions, a lecture, a meditation class, Kólaportið and the library. Tonight we all head out to a concert in the Kópavogur Irish Festival.

Just before going for her first "walk", a few weeks old

I am delighted that we can get around outside now (with some planning) since today we are celebrating the first decent snowfall. Autumn lasted a week or so with beautiful golden and red leaves but now I´d say winter is here. Esja has been white for days and now Kópavogur is too. Tree and snow pictures coming once I next get a chance to come back to the internet!

One month to go

After a month of scorching sun the heavens have finally broken and I am actually pleased to feel rain in the air. At least for a little while.

News here is dominated by bank scandals and it fills my thoughts too often, leaving me feeling a great sense of indignation. There is little a foreigner with no voting rights can do, however. Although I think the economic future of Iceland will be distinctly gloomy for Iceland and for Icelanders (and those of us non-Icelanders who live here) for the foreseeable future I do think that these crises and bad times have brought a friendlier, more open attitude to the community. I hope things improve and that this togetherness feeling remains. I can´t comment much on the news since I don´t know much about economics or politics, other than to suggest that those of you who are not Icelandic speakers should keep your eyes on the Iceland Weather Report as a good source of updates, rather than on Iceland Review or IceNews which seem to me to be mainly aimed at keeping Iceland looking attractive as a tourist destination - which of course it is, and you get more for your foreign currency these days too.

My folks were just visiting and my Dad commented on how many Icelanders he had met this time and how many people spoke to him in Icelandic and were happy to let him try out his Icelandic. Perhaps the ratio of Icelanders to tourists is higher than usual, even though some say that there are more tourists here. Certainly, more locals are taking their holidays here instead of abroad. I´d say that the weather has improved everyone´s mood and perhaps folk are realising the attraction of the Icelandic nature which they have not appreciated for some time in their search for southern sun, beaches and cheap beer.

This summer we have enjoyed a camping trip to Strandir, blueberry picking already (all this sun has ripened the blueberries and crowberries far more than usual,... I´d say that they will be just perfect here in the south west in about 2 weeks, some 2-4 weeks ahead of usual) and barbecues on our balcony. I´ve also been to yoga classes with other women with bumps and taken a tour of the hospital with Óli.

So, this week is week 36 and there is perhaps only 1 month or so to go. Perhaps less, perhaps more. I´ve been washing baby clothes we have been kindly given and the cutest little knitted jumpers and booties my Mum arrived with in her suitcase. We are almost ready. Still no idea of a name, particularly for a girl but I suppose something will come to us. As an international family I had no idea how complex it would be to pick name(s) and to work out what might be best. For a start I feel I have to rule out all the Icelandic names that I can´t pronounce to the satisfaction of Icelandic ears, which doesn´t leave such a big choice!

Lulls in the reporting of the economic crisis and related scandals have been filled with speculation about the next eruptions of Katla and Hekla. Relatively small earthquakes around Eyjafjallajökull and in the Katla caldera have reminded folk of the linkages between the two volcanoes and that intrusions in Eyjfjallajökull might result in an eruption in Katla, its larger and more flamboyant neighbour. So far all is quiet. People are on semi-alert for the next eruption of Hekla and hikers have been asked not to venture onto the ridge. If you are thinking of going hiking of Hekla please don´t: the warning time of 30 minutes in the year 2000 was insufficient to allow people to make the 4 hour trek from summit to car and then to safety. Perhaps it was lucky that the last eruption was in bad weather in February, rather than on a glorious sunny summer day.

So far, no eruptions.. but maybe we should be considering Hekla or Katla as baby names. Not the nicest of characters.. Hekla has reminiscences of Hell and Katla was a bad tempered witch with a tendency to murder. Good strong names for a child nobody will mess with at school?

The other bump

The bump somewhere around 26 weeks.. am now 28 weeks. Just before falling asleep she kicked so hard she gave both Ó and I a fright! Hehe. So, all well.

Things that go bump in the night!

From ghoulies and ghosties
And long-leggedy beasties
And things that go bump in the night,
Good Lord, deliver us!

Or not..

Reykjanes earthquakes. Image from www.mbl.is, originally from www.vedur.is.

Reykjanes and the Reykjavík area got a good shaking this weekend. Our visitor, K, and I were just having a quite little natter and then this weird thundery feeling passed through the living room from one corner to the other .. and then again .. twice we were shaken and it was all very exciting. Óli, practising the fiddle in the other room and stomping around completely missed it! A day later we were all having a wee natter, a nice cup of tea and a sit down when we were treated to more of the same, though not travelling across the room this time. There is clearly something wrong with me because my instinct was to get all excited, check out www.vedur.is and see how big it had been and where the epicentre was, and think about whether it might mean an eruption could be on its way .. and Óli much more sensibly stood up and headed to the door.

So, of course, since then we´ve been waking in the night imaging rumblings and shudderings and saying "was that another earthquake?" and convincing ourselves that there were a bunch more of them during the few hours of darkness. Mostly though they must have been in our imagination - all wishful thinking.

So, it turns out there were a series of earthquakes near Grindavík, near The Blue Lagoon, ranging from very small up to 4.7 on the Richter Scale. They moved north-eastwards a bit with time and have now mostly died out. Curiously the first biggish one that we felt came a year to the day after the 6.2 South Iceland earthquake of May 2008 and on the day of an earthquake workshop held at the University. I imagine they had a great big Hammer-of-Eden-esque earthquake generator with them .. all the better for ensuring another year of research funding! Only joking dear colleagues. But, funny coincidence.

Nobody was killed, nobody was hurt, no buildings were damaged. So all okay. I imagine it was quite scary being in Grindavík where more of the earthquakes must have been felt and a power cut accompanied the largest event.

Along with shudders and shakes I am being kept awake by the dancing bump creature .. things that go bump in the night! Hurrumph. At least, this probably means all is well with baby-to-be.

Thankfully, there have been no sightings of ghoulies, ghosties or long-leggedy beasties.

And in other news...

We´re going to have a baby.. at the end of August/start of September. We are both very happy about this news and can´t really imagine how much our lives are going to change but are hopeful that it will all be for the good. All is going well so far.

I feel quite far from friends and family in Scotland and farther afield but Óli and his family are looking after me well and being so lovely. I look forward to seeing folk in the UK in just a little over a month.

Cakes and soup until you burst - you have to, it's a tradition

Dry ice and tropical birthday punch

Óli reached a big age this year .. 30.. he calls it a typo but I think it is true., Usually I forget that he is younger than me. I think it is because he is so much taller than I .. taller equals older. Grandad reached a little more than 3 times Óli's age also recently. He is also taller than me, though not three times taller. This reasoning linking height and age doesn't really work that well since most people, particularly in Iceland, are taller than me. My sub-conscious refuses this logic, however. I suppose I just don't want to grow up.

Anyway, they both celebrated with plentiful food I gather and were quite happy. Chocolate cake, berry shortcake, numerous puff pastry inventions, chicken, so much dry ice that the punch froze solid! I have decided that berry shortcake is the best cake ever since I tried my never-fail-fruit-cake last weekend and it, erm, failed .. well, I failed .. I forgot half the flour. I also tried a new chocolate and fruit cake recipe that was simply horrible. So berry shortcake was the first of 3 cakes that actually worked. It crumbled a bit and ended up in a dish but it still tasted good, even if I so say so myself. With my recent track record I don't care so much about whether it could hold it's own shape.

Berry shortcake

For the cake:
125/4oz butter
125g/4oz sugar
2 eggs
125g/4oz self-raising flour (no such thing in Iceland so: 125g plain flour, 1/3 teaspoon of bicarbonate of soda and 1 teaspoon cream of tartar, found next to the spices in the shops and not next to the baking things)

Beat butter and sugar until pale and fluffy. Or until arms ache too much or you get a headache from the electric whisk buzzing. Beat in eggs, one at a time. Fold in flour. Divide mixture between two 8 inch cake tins (will look like very little). Bake for 25 minutes at 180°C. Leave to cool completely before turning out, the recipe says, but this just meant that my shortcakes stuck to the non-stick cake tins and ended up as crumbled layers in a trifle bowl.

For the filling:
450g defrosted mixed berries (this is winter, I´m sure fresh berries macerated with sugar as original recipe suggests would be yummy too but finding blueberries and strawberries in Iceland in the winter that have flavour and aren´t mouldy is impossible and anyway I like the juiciness of frozen berries)
100-250 ml cream
icing sugar for dusting

Place one layer of shortcake on plate (or bowl if it fell apart). Cover with berries and then cream. Top with second shortcake layer. Dust with icing sugar. Leave to soak up some of the berry juice.

Adapted from Tom Norrington-Davies´ Strawberry Shortcake in his wonderful recipe book "Just like Mother used to make". Actually, most of these she didn´t - I don´t remember such British fare at home much really but that doesn´t matter .. I have some of Mum´s tasty recipes and this, my favourite recipe book, fills in any British childhood nostalgia gaps. I can almost see my continental friends shivering at my adoration of British cuisine. Ha!

To top of this past week of cakes and yummy food (and general disregarding of the kreppa), there was both Bolludagur and Sprengidagur. Unlike the UK which just has one feasting day (Pancake Day .. yum), Iceland makes up for the darkness and winteriness with two feasts until by Ash Wednesday you are clutching your stomach and actually looking forward to the strictures of Lent.

Bolludagur (Bun day) is a day of profiteroles .. giant profiteroles filled with cream and custard . and you can eat as many as you can manage. We started on Sunday, the day before Bolludagur just to make sure we could eat more than one or two. Óli's Mum invited us with his grandmother and great uncle to eat the lovely bollur she made .. I think I had four and she kept trying to make me eat more!

Vatnsdeigsbolla, image taken from here

Sprengidagur (or bursting day.. you eat until you burst) comes next .. on Shrove Tuesday .. with a soup made from split yellow peas, salted lamb, swedes, potatoes and carrots. It is so very tasty but half a bowl is enough to make you burst .. Óli disagrees . but then he did almost burst.. haha.

Saltkjót og baunir, image from here.

Happy New Year!

Happy New Year to you all. Actually.. Happy Hallowe´en, Happy Yule, Happy Christmas, Happy New Year, Happy Burns´Night etc.. It has been some time since I wrote here.

Much has gone on here in the last 6 months or so.. for us.. work and exciting new projects, trips to Geneva and to Paris, a ceilidh, a Burns Supper, a couple of friends have had babies, almost the entire family descended on Reykjavík for Christmas and New Year (we missed Sigga, Barbara, Jane and Grandad though)... and for Iceland so much has happened .. bank crises, employment crises, protests (very non-Icelandic but folk are gradually getting the hang of it), soaring debt for the country and individuals with terrifying mortgages and loans (either in foreign currency or in kronur but with the capital linked to inflation), and most recently a fall of one government and the rise (hopefully) of another with quite different ideas (hopefully) and an election I can´t vote in (but hopefully many more people than normal will vote) in just a few months. Anyway, I will not comment much on the politics / crisis since really I have no expertise in economics or politics and we are both lucky to still be in jobs and have no terrifying loans .. however, if you want to read more about these things, and the changes happening in Iceland, in English with intelligent discussion have a look at Alda´s wonderful Iceland Weather Report.

After a delightfully blunt reminder by Christmas card I have decided to make time again for some Letters from Iceland. I think that this is no longer a little adventure north that became a bit longer but more like tales from my second home. I still dream of heading back to Scotland (as snow covers everything here I am thinking of snowdrops in the garden at home, though I hear there has been plenty snow to go around back home too) or moving to another country again but, I think, at least while we still have our jobs, we´ll be here .. a bit longer anyway. Lets hope that kreppa (depression / recession) means that it is cheaper for you all to visit - and realise that despite what you may read on foreign news websites protests and "riots" in Iceland could pass for "carnivals" in other countries so there is absolutely no threat to tourists; no offense meant to the protesters of course, I think they´re doing a great job!

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.

Gleðileg jól - snow, fire and excitement

Norðfjörður

Happy Christmas everyone. Gleðileg jól.

We are in Neskaupstaður which is a town set in a deep fjörd (Norðfjörður) on the east coast of Iceland. I´ve been here once before, in February last year for a trip to the neighbouring uninhabited Viðfjörður. Then it was warm enough, rather strangely, to be outside comfortably in short sleeves. Now, returning in December for Christmas and New Year to spend time with Óli´s brother and family there is ice and snow. Ice coated the road all the way to Kirkjubærklaustur, around a third of the way from Reykjavík to the east then as we drove along the coast passed Jökulsálón we felt as if we were driving through the night, the longest night of the year. Even in the pitch black of 4pm the ice-choked lagoon sparkled beautifully with blues and greys and the odd bright shimmering fairy-light on the icebergs as the full moon reflected off the glistening surfaces.

A walk in the snow

Now we´ve been here for almost a week. Snow fell on the 23rd to give us a white Christmas and like last year we opened our parcels after dinner on Christmas Eve, still making me feeling rather naughty breaking the childhood rule of not opening any presents until Christmas Day. This year, being with Icelandic and South African family the house was swarming with supernatural beings. Jólasveinarnir dropped by at night to leave presents in shoes for good boys and bigger parcels on the 24th and then on the night of the 24th or early morning of the 25th Santa made it to Iceland, flying down into the deep valley, thankfully missing the cold sea water and not slipping too badly on the ice to leave more presents beneath the tree and fill Christmas stockings. Then, K lost his first baby tooth and the tooth fairy left something under his pillow on the night of the 25th.

Where the tooth fairy lives

Today is the 29th and things are calming down. The best toys have been selected (torches and protective eye glasses meant for fireworks), the excitement is diminishing and the house has been spirit and sprite free for a few evenings running now. However, New Year nears and Óli and I have been helping setting up the fireworks display. Of course everyone will set fireworks off and the town will be wreathed in smoke but before midnight, from the sneak preview of the size of the fireworks being laid out and placed into massive barrels, I expect there will be a pretty good show from S and co. Fingers crossed that my fuses don´t fail.

Big bomb, happy boy

It is good to be out of Reykjavík and to see the snow-clad hills all around. I will however, be quite glad to be rid of the supernatural visits for a year! You would too if they were stealing things from the fridge and sniffing around doors, worrying the sheep and licking your pots and pans!

Approaching Yule

It is 8.30am on a Sunday and I am uncharacteristically awake due to Óli´s shift patterns just now. It is quiet and still feels like night (it will be dark until around 11am and then get dark again around 2-3pm) so once I´ve had my dose of tea for the morning it is quite possible to con myself into thinking that it is night and my night-owl can spring into action and start writing. Of course, the papers of "geomorphology of a glacial foreland" and "sedimentology of jökulhlaups" lay untouched .. perhaps a little too early and not enough tea for those. However, while they eat away at my conscience, I can finally find some time to write here for a change.

Mulled wine

Christmas is just 8/9 days away depending on which celebrations you opt for.. 24th in Iceland, 25th back home. I try to get both in, being greedy and wanting two Christmases a year. So, today there is little to do other than prepare and go Christmas shopping and really what else can one do when there is snow outside and the shops have candles lit outside their doors and the cookies and mince pies are all ready, the cake is being fed with brandy and we´ve already had our British Christmas dinner. We started early with a small party in the second week in January and ate turkey and trimmings and drank mulled wine into the night.

It was a good celebration of the end of a very hectic time. Ceilidh classes and the ceilidh night had filled up so much time but I am so glad to say that it was a great success. The band were brilliant, giving up their time for free to play because of a love for this lively, jumpy, toe-tapping music. 60 people came and actually our biggest problem was that the room was too small. So we are now dreaming of holding it in Iðno.. a real stage, a big dance floor and beautiful decorations .. no scruffy edge of the world stuff next time. However, we´re not sure if we have enough spare limbs to afford that. Still, the first mini ceilidh was held in a warehouse with stage props, dust and old, unwashed cups scattering the dark corners, in an out of the way place between the oil tanks for the ships and a building site. The next place was an old wartime-inspired nissan hut by the thermal beach, a bit easier to find but building works over the winter meant you had to navigate the mud-bath, the swamp and search in the dark for a road which bore little resemblance to a road, even in Iceland.. Both excellent for their purpose and within our budget but I´d say we can only move up in the world.

I am dreaming of a resurrection of folk dance enthusiasm here .. though lets not call it folk dance please. I am searching for some other phrase - ceilidh is doing for now.. though it means nothing to most people. Any suggestions are most welcome. The phrases in use with other groups are folk dance or old dances.. neither of which seems to capture the lively nature of the thing! I also hope this can involve all ages and be something to help bring Icelanders and foreigners together more .. so far we´re doing fairly well with Scots, English, Norwegians, Icelanders, Slovaks, Russians, French, Mexicans, Swiss, Danes, Germans, Finns, Swedes.. and probably more, trying this thing out.

On holiday in Spain, wearing bellydance silk to a restaurant!

Bellydance sparkles - Margrét - picture from balletstelpur

Meanwhile I´ve been dancing belly dance and spend time peering around the stage wings being awe-inspired by the sparkly costumes of the other dancers at Kramhúsið´s Christmas show and I´ve been battling technology as the computer, the car and software at work refuse to behave. Many are helping to try to persuade them that the holidays are not yet here (thanks Óli, Egill and Anil). However, maybe these well-used and tired technological creatures are justified. The weather has been crazy with storms ripping the roofs of houses, tipping over lorries and requiring the radio stations to announce that people shouldn´t go out unless necessary and that children should be kept home from school. Seems strange for the capital area. Or maybe the car and computer have been struck by the Christmas holiday spirit and are on strike until after New Year .. or out shopping along with the rest of the country. Perhaps they are in a bookshop stuck in a queue as the whole nation tries to buy those essential expensive hardbacks with big glossy photos or the latest novels and poems by their neighbours!

Anyway.. I have things to do.. Christmas markets to visit and hot chocolate to drink.., oh yes and glacial forelands to be writing about.

Midnight love notes

Ceilidh in Reykjavík!
December 6th 20:00 - Live music "The Reel Thing" - 500kr.
www.skoskurdans.org

It has been a busy few weeks recently with preparations for our ceilidh on the 6th December and with thoughts turning to Christmas! Tonight I sat up late with Óli and K sorting out just what a ceilidh band should play at a ceilidh .. when, for how long, . and what to do when all turns to chaos on the dance floor. It was a most productive evening.. fueled by tea and disappointingly soft fruit shortcake biscuits (note: do not store fruit shortcakes and fig rolls together).

A love note from a mug, actually by no mug, maker of lovely mugs and teapots, Emma Bridgewater.

This is the catch in my evening.. now it is tomorrow and I am still awake, randomly looking at news and trying to get Christmas present ideas from the internet. A troublesome business which really is fairly useless but passes the time and solves any small cravings for actually going shopping which is dangerously expensive here. However, I find presents are probably more suitably chosen when you think more about the person than randomly looking in every shop window, dragging yourself along the high street jostling with other rather panicked shoppers .. or trawling through gadget and gift websites full of neon flashing things and wind up plastic old people with fighting ways..

Someone else I read about has the same sleeping problem as me in Patreksfjörður in north-west Iceland, but has found a lovelier way of spending time. Sneaking out at the dead of night he or she (or it) creeps into people´s gardens and lurks around their cars, their garden fences and the lamp-posts outside their houses. Then.. unseen and unheard they leave a message, a neatly plastic-wrapped note of love for their chosen to find in the morning. Not just one, one dear to heart, secret lover this.. this person leaves notes all over town .. a bringer of happiness and gladness to the dark winter mornings. Sounds to me like a lovely winter story plot come true.

Dream Angus

A few weeks ago a read a lovely, quite curiously strange book by Alexander McCall Smith called Dream Angus. It is quite unlike his Number 1 Ladies Detective series or the Philosophers Club books. More beautiful, more subtle. A semi-mythical character who leaves dreams for you and makes you fall in love, who makes the world better by solving your problems at night.

May you be visited by night-time fairies and imps to brighten the next day. Much better than what we´ve got coming .. Icelandic yule lads who raid the fridge, lick the dirty dishes and terrorise the sheep.. but more on that another time.

First days of winter

Saturday was the official first day of winter... and sometime during the evening I poked my head out through the curtains and the world had turned white with big, soggy flakes of snow falling. It has been snowing almost continually since and the hedge outside my living room window is encrusted with snow, with leaves that look like sugar-coated sweeties and reminding me of Christmas cards.

Kjótsúpa .. picture from Morgunblaðið

Free Icelandic meat soup was given away in the streets on Saturday and African dancers took to the streets with cool drum rhythms. Tonight I go back to bellydance class. Time to get back to hobbies that remind us of warmer climes.

Sheep in the fold

Last Friday we went away for the weekend to get peace and quiet, to read and to sleep. We set off too late of course, after work on Friday, met with a friend in Akranes en route and I tried her yummy chicken and rice soup.

By the time we were heading into the country, leaving Borganes and its two greasy burger joints behind it was really really dark. I was surprised. Not so long ago it was almost 24 hours of daylight.. then I sat with a friend in a hot tub at 2am and watched the faint brush of the northern lights in the dusky sky .. and then suddenly it is dark at 8pm. Okay, maybe it was more like 10. Anyway, this must mean I´ve spent too long inside and I feel like despite a glorious summer with wonder continental weather I have let the summer slip by.

Hestfjall in Borgarfjörður, picture taken by Halldór Eiríksson

I am glad now though of the change in season. It all happened on Friday with the darkness. We drove and drove, skipped the turning for the fisherman´s huts, passed the summer houses and between the cliffs, round the bend and down the hill .. then passed the big rock by the road (sure home of elves), goat rock and up the hill through a flock of sheep all eyes gleaming evilly in the headlights, up the hill and into the darkness away from all the lights. We began to wonder if we missed the cottage that we were told we couldn´t miss.

Then, two small lights appeared in the distance and the narrowest road bridge I´ve ever come across with a two tonne limit.. how heavy is the car? Less than one ton surely but when you add in the rucksacks, the tins of beans, bottle of whisky and us.. I chickened out and reversed in to the path of a van (but not quite) racing up the hill, so feeling like stupid tourists we thought we´d ask directions. Well, not a lot of help .. in that there was pretty much nothing further on in terms of warm cosy cottages.. but I am still wondering what a guy travelling alone with a suitcase in the middle of the night was doing driving into the wilderness. Óli assures me that the suitcase was too small for a body. Is the habit of exiling people to the hills still in existence here?

Well, we turned back.. passed the dark lake we´d missed on the way up, passed goat rock, the elf house rock, the freaky-eyed sheep, the cliffs, the summer houses and back to the main road. So we´d missed it again. We turned back. This continued for some time.

Once found the cottage was unmissable, inviting even in darkness and cold and a most thoroughly welcome shelter from the wind that was gathering. And it blew, and it blew and it blew all night, through the morning, the afternoon, the evening and the next night .. and when we drew the curtains on the next morning there was snow on the mountains and a bite to the air and winter was there. Perhaps the man with the suitcase was somehow responsible.

The farmers on horseback spotted the weather change before us and went to get the sheep (maybe the suitcase man was delivering whisky to farmers rounding sheep up in the hills?) and as we left they brought at least 300 sheep, white, black, muddy and fluffy, small and scruffy down the hills, along the road, passed the narrow bridge (not more than 2 tonnes of sheep at once), along the shore of the dark lake, alongside goat rock and all around the elf house, up the hill, passed the summer houses, through the cliffs and into the fields of home.

On Sunday night we settled back in to our little flat in town and thought of the party being had to celebrate the round up in the country and we shared a whisky in celebration of the start of winter and the coming of the snow.