Vín og skel: a wee tale of redemption

A few weeks ago YT and EPI went out for dinner with a couple of friends to a place called Vín og skel, on Laugavegur. Now, having been on intimate terms with the restaurant business in my North American incarnation [many moons ago], and having worked in some places that considered flawlessness to be merely the starting point, YT considers herself a bit of an expert when it comes to the many little nuances that make up the ideal dining experience. [As regular readers will no doubt know.]

Sad to say, the ideal dining experience is about as rare here in Niceland as a favourable review about an Icelandic bank overseas. Icelanders very often seem to equate ‘service’ with ‘servile’ and all too often complaints about service or food or similar are met with a haughty kind of arrogance. [Actually, to be fair, Icelandic society is not an anomaly in this regard – not many places live up to the North American standard of service in restaurants, at least not in Europe.]

So anyway, we had dinner at Vín og skel, YT gave it a wee review, and that review was, well, less than stellar. Not exactly bad because the experience wasn’t all-bad; in fact on the whole we had a very pleasant evening, thanks in no small part to the relaxed and friendly service and laid-back atmosphere. However, a few things went askew, and those were duly noted by our YT.

A few days after I posted that review on this blog, I received a message in my inbox from the proprietor of Vín og skel, who as it happens had been one of our servers that night. He began by thanking me for my detailed review, saying that obviously many things had gone wrong that night for which he apologized, and said he would like to invite us back to enjoy a meal at his invitation. He reiterated his thanks for the review, saying that they would take a close look at what had happened that night, adding that such critiques gave them an opportunity to make improvements. After all, Vín and skel took pride in providing good service and meeting their demands of its guests.

I have to say, I was flabbergasted. Not only because it is extraordinary for the proprietor of a restaurant to actually go out of his way to make amends in this way, but also because that sort of response to criticism, with not a trace of defensiveness or self-righteousness, is extraordinary in any situation. After some debate as to whether I should take him up on his offer [should I be independent in my ‘reviews’, would it limit my ‘credibility’, such as it is, etc.] and being somewhat uncertain about how to proceed, I decided in the end that I should take him up on it. I felt it was the right thing to do.

And so, last Friday evening EPI and I showed up for dinner at Vín og skel once more and – I am delighted to report – had an absolutely fabulous time. Our host welcomed us graciously and was amicable in every way. He began by offering us an aperitif; we ordered a glass of white wine each, to have with dinner, and were poured a delightful South African sauvignon blanc, crisp and full-bodied. He then brought us menus but we decided to leave the choice of food up to him, which was the perfect move because he chose for us the four-course ‘surprise’ menu, which made our dining experience all the more, well, surprising [and fun].

The appetizer was an amazing combo of grilled lobster and scallops [my favourite] on a mushroom risotto with a melt-in-your-mouth creamy buttery sauce. Talk about a roaring start. The second course was a small piece of kangaroo filet served with a peanut sauce and garnished with fresh coriander. [Incidentally, for my Australian readers: do you eat kangaroo in Australia? I’ve been wondering about that ever since…]. This was my first intro to kangaroo, which I’ve been curious to try for a while, and I enjoyed it a lot – it was a sort of cross between lamb and venison, at least to my palate. With the kangaroo our host brought a delicious Australian Shiraz [I took the name from the label and forgot it, but it had a picture of a dog – dingo? – on the front], that he left on the table [so much for our intention of having one glass of wine and going to bed early, ahem]. Next up was the entrée: monkfish [mmm…] wrapped in bacon [mmm] and cooked to perfection [i.e. not too long] with lobster sauce and a sort of carrot-tomato coulis. By the time we finished that we were – predictably – more than satiated, so when our host offered us dessert we opted for sitting a while and enjoying our Shiraz. When we were ready, he brought dessert: two types of cake [chocolate and a sort of apple-cheesecake] served on a single [large, square] glass plate with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, and coffee [espresso for EPI, regular for YT]. He also invited us to try a delicious port, which we simply couldn’t refuse [because that would have been rude].

Needless to say, throughout all this the service was flawless, absolutely attentive without being intrusive, our wine and water glasses were kept perpetually full and every detail was observed.

On the whole, the entire experience was absolutely delightful. We wound up sitting there for four hours and rarely have I enjoyed dining out so much. The food was truly perfect [ok, for the sake of credibility I’d say – if pressed – that the apple cheesecake was the least perfect, but really, it was an insignificant flaw] and the bistro-like atmosphere was so relaxed and easygoing that we felt almost at home. Topping it all, of course, was the extraordinary conduct and generosity on the part of our host. Now, I realize there may be cynics out there who would question the standing of his invitation and, by extension, of this appraisal – after all, we were no longer ‘anonymous reviewers’ … but even with that factored in, the way the proprietor of Vín og skel handled the entire situation can only be described as admirable. Many of us – in the service industry and elsewhere, in Iceland and even in North America – would do well to follow his example.

AND JUST A QUICKIE ON THE WEATHER

Sunny and cool, moderate winds, with a thin cloud cover. Weatherman claims spring will arrive tomorrow with higher temps and [bleh] rain and drizzle. Currently 1°C [34F] and the sun came up at 5.58 am, will set at 8.59 pm.

Auf Widersehen, bis bald!

Here in Niceland we get the phenomenon known as the árshátíð, which literally translated means ‘annual celebration’ and figuratively translated means ‘a big party in which there is entertainment and everyone gets juiced and to which you must wear really nice clothes and get your hair done beforehand.’ [NB ‘juiced’ is not an absolute requirement, particularly if the árshátíð is being thrown by, say, SÁÁ]. Every company and every organisation and every saumaklúbbur* and every equestrian society and every organized group of any kind will inevitably throw an árshátíð for its employees/members once a year, that is if they want to be taken seriously as a company/society/sewing club/whatever.

Anyway, over the years the árshátíðir have been getting progressively more extravagant, and now many companies, organizations etc. throw their parties in other countries. Most often this will entail their employees flying over for free, while spouses have to pay for their flight but generally get a discount. Hotel accommodation is included for 2-3 nights, and there is a lavish dinner on at least one of those nights.

Two years ago, EPI’s company invited everyone to Copenhagen for their árshátíð, last year it was Hótel Búðir, and this year it’s Berlin. EPI and I have also travelled to Paris on one occasion, courtesy of another employer. Needless to say I consider this one of Iceland’s more pleasing traditions.

EPI and I have decided to extend and are staying a full week. We’re meeting up with friends that I haven’t seen for about 15 years, not since we both lived in Essen … from there they moved to Berlin, I moved to Iceland. They’ve got an entire day planned for us on Sunday, replete with custom sightseeing and then dinner at their place. Can’t wait!

And so dear readers, the next installment of The Iceland Weather Report shall be brought to you from Berlin. Bis dann!

I’M NOT SORRY TO BE LEAVING HERE
Because the weather has turned cold and nasty again, read: windy. I went out this morning completely unsuspecting, imagining a perfectly amicable morning to greet me, but NO. I froze my buns off, walking downtown. As the day has progressed the wind has only become colder and stronger, so I’ll be glad to wave bye-bye. Sunrise this morning at 7.52, sunset at 7.23; temps currently 2°C [36F].

PS. I'll be sure to give you a full toilet report.

* A saumaklúbbur is also a Nicelandic phenomenon, which literally translated means ‘sewing club’ and figuratively translated means ‘a bunch of women who get together on a regular basis and try to outdo each other in the lavishness of the refreshments they serve.’ It generally has very little to do with sewing.

Sunshine in a pot and other good stuff

Yesterday was a perfect day. Brilliant sunshine in the morning, so EPI and I had the instant desire to stick our cross-country skis in the car and head up to Heiðmörk*.

First, though, we had to go grocery shopping at Krónan [formerly known as stupid old Krónan – we shall see if they manage to amend their ways in their brand-new shiny store] to pick up something yummy for dinner that could marinate while we were enjoying the great outdoors. [Incidentally, where besides Iceland do can you bump into the Prime Minister at your local discount supermarket? Methinks nowhere.] As it happened, Krónan had potted Crysanthemums and Begonias on special, so we bought one of each, which was like bringing home sunshine in two pots.

Before heading to Heiðmörk, though, we had a brief stop to make. EPI’s mother would have turned 80 yesterday, had she lived, so first we headed to Blómaval to pick up a rose. [While there, we couldn’t resist adopting a few more flowering plants: three miniature crysanthemums, and four pots of tête-a- têtes, the most delightful harbingers of spring in my opinion.] Up in the cemetery everything was covered in snow, so EPI made an angel on his mother’s grave, just like she’d taught him to make when he was a boy.

Heiðmörk was exquisitely beautiful as always. By the time we got there it was around 4.30 and the shadows were growing long. The sun was still intense, though, and the snow looked it had flakes of glitter scattered on it. We skiied for about an hour and a half, and towards the end the sky was exquisite and snow was all pink and blue. Mind you, it had got pretty cold by that time [with the sun gone and everything] so YT was suffering an attack of Raynaud’s Syndrome, which was rather unpleasant. It must be said: I was not designed for winter sports.

Still, it was totally worth it, and just twenty minutes later we were snug back at home, where we our lamb filets were waiting for us in the perfect stage of marination, along with their compatriot, a bottle of Chilean Merlot. Perfect.

TODAY IS NOT QUITE SO LOVELY

There’s a miserable cold wind out there and the whole day is flat and uninspiring. At noon today the good people of the Westman Islands were being advised to stay inside their homes on account of the weather – apparently they were experiencing the greatest amount of snowfall since 1968 and even rescue squad vehicles were getting stuck. The dreaded cold puddle is still very much active, I see. Right now -1°C [30F] and feels like -8/17F. Sunrise this morning was at 8.30 am and sunset due for 6.50 pm.

* Nature reserve on the outskirts of Reykjavík.

Get this, get the essence

EPI and I have just come back from one fantastic concert: Hinn Íslenski þursaflokkur with the Caput ensemble, performing at Laugardalshöll arena.

This was their 30th anniversary concert and they reassembled for just this one night, having disbanded in 1982. The Laugardalshöll was packed [it takes around 5,500 people, according to Wikipedia], which gives some indication of their popularity, even today. Truly, they are one of the best, if not the best, Icelandic bands ever. They’re one of those cultural treasures that mirror a sense of identity, strength and pride. Their sound resonates in the heart and consciousness of everyone who has their roots here. I’m not sure foreigners would get them in the same way … I’m just not sure – but I would venture to say that to really truly get the soul of Iceland, you have to get this band.

Basically, when they started they took ancient folk songs and ancient text, and transposed them into the 20th century, without losing any of their ‘folky roots’ – ach! I dislike that phrase, so generic … let’s say, without losing any of their ‘unique Icelandicness’.* Their sound is one that I think every Icelander responds to because it evokes the isolation, the melancholy, the remarkable tenacity and resilience of the people who eked out a living here in centuries past. My absolute favourite song of theirs is Grafskript – a sung composition of an exquisitely beautiful text found on a gravestone from 1763. You can see them perform it – with Caput – on Kastljós [a few days ago] here.

Anyway, the concert was amazing, the band was stupendous, and Egill Ólafsson – ‘band leader’ for lack of a better term, was funny, warm and completely engaging – like he was entertaining 5,500 of his best friends at home in his living room. I don't like this [overused] word, but I'll use it tonight: AWESOME.

SNOW, TEMPS AROUND THE FREEZING MARK
-2°C [28F] to be exact, and the sun comes up later today at 8.59 am and sets at 6.25 pm.

* Mind you, some of their later material was a bit more modern – they composed music for the stage, for example, which isn’t really of the same ilk.

The last time this happened, I bought a new car

My car's in the shop, so I've been zipping around on a rented Toyota Yaris since yesterday. I'm completely smitten. It's so nimble. So quick. So easy to maneuver out in traffic.

I don't want my old car back. I want the Yaris.

SNOWING AGAIN
But not too much, so that's OK. And there's no wind, so that's doubly OK. And I have a Yaris to drive around, so I don't care anyway. Temps currently -1°C [30F] and the sun came up at 9.05 am and set at 6.19. And now if you'll excuse me, I must go watch an episode of Grey's Anatomy.

Adoptakind.is

Always dreamed of owning your very own Icelandic sheep but just couldn’t find a place for it out on the balcony? Well, now you can, thanks to kindur.is, which allows you to either adopt or purchase a sheep [aka kind] on an Icelandic farm, name it, choose a ram for breeding, utilize the wool from it and, if you so choose, have the meat from its little lambs processed and sent to you every autumn [sniff]. Although presumably you have to be within Iceland to make use of that last option.

Isn’t that just the most ingenious idea you’ve ever heard? After all, adopting children through the SOS programme or UNICEF is just so passé, and anyway, they don’t produce any wool.

Seriously though, I think this kindur.is a brilliant concept. It works like this: you go online and choose your sheep and whether you merely want to adopt, or whether you would like to buy. If you adopt a sheep you get a Christmas card with your meh-meh on it, which provides details of what it’s been up to over the year [… grazing, and, um … grazing], you get access to the farm that fosters your sheep and are allowed to visit it five or six times a year [note the set limit – not sure the farmer would think it’s a great idea if you were there every day, gazing lovingly at your sheep out in the meadow], and for a nominal fee you get the wool from your sheep when it’s been sheared and can have it sent for processing, which would eventually mean the delivery of a pair of mitts, or a scarf, or a hat, to your very own doorstep. Or even all three, if you have a large sheep.

Meanwhile, if you purchase a sheep, you can pick out the one you want from an online catalogue, give it a name [although you may have to have it approved by the Naming Committee – no ‘Lucifers’ please], visit it five or six times a year, and during an open house day at the farm you can pick out a suitable mate for your sheep and then, come autumn, get the products from their, um, offspring sent home. For a nominal fee you can have the wool processed, as above, and for an additional nominal fee you can have your sheep inseminated by the ram of your choice, picked from a register that lists all of Iceland’s hottest ram studs, yowsa [for those who want only the best for their Elsie]. Also, you can have your meat processed the way you want it, e.g. smoked, and also the sheepskin processed to make rugs, gloves, hats, and so on.

Apparently this venture has been met with resounding enthusiasm and sheep farmers nationwide have really taken to the idea. Meanwhile, EPI and YT are still deliberating on whether to adopt, or whether to try and produce our own. Stay tuned.

ADDENDUM: Hlédís, who owns kindur.is, has written a comment in the comments box, explaining about the English-language version of her site, and more.

JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT SPRING WAS HERE
It starts to snow again. Met my neighbour outside this morning while clearing the snow off the car and we both agreed that we were getting more than a little weary of this. I mean, what’s all this about global warming, and why can’t we have some? Currently 1°C [34F] and the sun came up at 9.08 and will set at 6.16 this evening.

Behind the veil and under the skin

I've just watched an unbelievably absorbing and powerful documentary entitled Afghanistan Unveiled, which reveals how life has changed for women in the five years since their so-called 'liberation' from Taliban rule.

Surely there are few places on earth where the circumstances of women are as dire as in Afghanistan today. There are so many war brides, and no social security system in place, so with the breadwinner gone women are forced to beg on the streets, enduring scorn and humiliation from the men who pass by. The reason for their poverty is never considered - they're seen as a virtual object, an object of shame. The reporter donned a burka and went out begging with a woman she'd met on the street, and we - the viewers - saw the world through the mesh on the veil, including the derision by the males who gathered all around. Frightening.

Herat, the most prosperous town in Afghanistan, has an alarmingly high rate of suicide by Afghan women who set themselves on fire to escape horrific domestic situations. Of course not all are successful - meaning they're horribly disfigured for life. One girl the documentary featured was twelve and was sold into marriage at the age of seven. She ended up burning herself from the waist down.

Afghanistan has the second highest infant mortality rate in the world. The reason? A woman needs the written permission of her husband and her mother-in-law to go to the hospital. Even to give birth. Very often they arrive at the hospital strapped to a ladder that someone is carrying, hemorraging severely from a ruptured uterus. They don't even have the power over their own bodies to decide when or if they need to go to the hospital. Obviously many women die in childbirth - and there's an unspoken rule that those who do are never spoken of in the town again. It's as if they never existed. And because they're not spoken of, it's as if the problem doesn't exist, and it keeps perpetuating.

When Afghanistan was liberated from Taliban rule and democracy was to be introduced, the West poured millions of dollars into rebuilding the country. That money seems to have vanished. There was an incredibly inspiring scene from a girl's school, which showed young girls running around outdoors, playing, laughing ... exactly how it should be [of course girls' schools were banned under the Taliban]. Only - the documentary didn't show much learning going on because there aren't enough classrooms in which to teach the girls. There are half-built buildings all over the place, and no money to complete them - despite the fact that the aid money was earmarked for projects like that. So the girls have to be taught in shifts.

One of the most heartwarming scenes was from a village in the remotest part of the country, the mountainous north, which was previously a Taliban stronghold. [Site of those infamous mountains where Bin Laden was - is - supposed to be hiding out.] The reporter was surprised to find a school in a tiny village, which taught not only boys AND girls, but also deaf-dumb students, using sign language. The lesson we, the viewers, got to see was about Afghanistan, about the abundance of the land, the quality of the fruit and vegetables, and how the children should respect their country. Afterwards, the girls all grouped around the reporter, clearly in awe. They then invited her to accompany them to their home - and the whole entourage set off, with two little girls holding the hands of the journalist [they were probably around 7-9 years old]. As they walked, the journalist remarked, in English, that she wasn't sure if she'd be let in to their homes, as the community was insular and not very open to strangers. However - much to her surprise, she found that there were no parents. These children were orphaned and lived by themselves. Their home was immaculate, and they were so open and joyous. They had dreams for the future - they wanted to get an education, and then work in the village, make a contribution. It was beautiful. Such a lust for life, even when they had so very little.

This documentary made a deep impression [can you tell?] - perhaps best measured by the fact that, immediately after it was over, a TV ad for a new Hagkaup department store came on, where to the soundtrack of some sappy chirpy song we were accosted by the lavishness of the available commodities. All those shiny-happy people wallowing in their over-indulgence made me feel really ill. I am all for prosperity and abundance, but sometimes the greed and avarice in this society really freaks me out. Particularly when I've just watched how the other half lives.

AND WE HAVE ANOTHER STORM ON
Calm yesterday, stormy today. A familiar pattern, no? Severe gusts of wind right now and buckets of rain coming down. Looks like we're in for a green [or red, as we say here] Christmas. Currently 10°C [50F] - sunrise was at 11.18 and sunset at 15.29.

YT and EPI enjoy a romantic outing complete with spa, slippers and food to die for

Last year when EPI and I got married, our four exceptionally wonderful daughters gave us a fabulous wedding present: a night at the Hotel Saga plus dinner at Grillið, their in-house restaurant that happens to be one of the best in Reykjavík. It’s taken us almost a year to fit this little outing into our busy schedules [a scandal, really], but last night we finally managed it.

EPI’s main concern was that we’d get bored. I mean, we planned to check in at 2 pm and dinner wasn’t until 9.30 – what would we do in the interim? However, he comforted himself with the thought that, if push came to shove, we could always go home, seeing as how we live only five minutes away by car.

Personally I had no such worries, because as I pointed out to EPI, the hotel actually has a spa at which we could hang out for the duration of the afternoon. This generated even more anxiety for EPI, because by his own admission he didn’t know what to do in a spa. [I was going to mention Brazilian waxing, but decided against it.] Plus we could take a book and actually lie in bed and read, or – you know – whatever. It was supposed to be a romantic getaway after all.

So we checked in around three. The first half an hour was a bit weird; we unpacked our bags and examined the slippers and bathrobes folded neatly on the bed, stared out the window a bit, and then for lack of a better activity sat in the armchairs provided and read the newspapers. That took us up to about 4 pm, when it was time to take a deep breath and venture out to the spa.

After a bit of humming-and-hawing about what to take with us [bathrobe? towel? slippers?] we finally made it down there, only to discover that three Nicelandic couples had staked their claim to the Jacuzzi and were drinking beer and generally having a rowdy time. Great. So we alternated between the steam bath and the sauna and eventually shuffled over to the Jacuzzi after the ladies had retired to the changing room, only to discover that this Jacuzzi has salty sea water in it and the bubbles have this rhythm that is just so soothing, and OMG it’s fricking amazing. So we basically we just flaked out there completely inert until the woman who worked there came and told us the spa was closing and we had to get out now, otherwise she’d have to pull the plug.

Anyway, cut to a few hours later, and we were sitting on the eighth floor up in Grillið being served the meal of a lifetime. Seriously. The food was to die for. This was my second time eating at this particular restaurant and both times it’s been out of this world. [Meanwhile, the service was merely adequate, but that’s hardly news around here.] We picked the ‘Discovery Menu’ and the discoveries consisted of the following: an appetizer of king crab with buttery sauce; seared tuna steaks with a little croquette ball with a tiny zuccini slice inside and some other delectable accompaniments; pan-fried plaice with scallops and mango foam; melt-in-your-mouth beef with mashed potato all artistically carved and arranged plus vegetables and oxtail something wrapped up in like a pastry type thingy set on top … see? Words fail me.* I can’t even begin to describe what it was like. – Oh, and not forgetting dessert, which consisted of something called a ‘banana club’ [as in ‘sandwich’], crème brulee, sorbet and a fourth something that escapes me at the moment.

Along with these mouthwatering treats we were poured three different kinds of wine – Riesling with the fish, Shiraz with the beef, and a Hungarian dessert wine with dessert. Yowsa!**

AND THEN WE WOKE UP TO A BEAUTIFUL DAY
And despite still being stuffed, went down to a lavish hotel breakfast before packing our things for home. I’ve decided that staying in a hotel that’s right near your house is the only way to travel – you’re not stressed out about forgetting something, and you don’t care how you pack before you leave the hotel because you know you’re going to unpack ten minutes later. But I digress: the weather was exceptional today, brilliant sunshine and temps hovering around the freezing mark. As soon as we got home [and unpacked] we went out for a long walk and tanked up on some daylight, which was clear and bright enough to take us through to the end of next week, I should think. Currently –2°C [28F] and the sun came up at 10.05 am and set at 4.20 pm.

* PS I reserve the right to be wrong about the food descriptions. It was all so exceptionally artistic and complex that I can't remember what everything was called.

** I should probably mention, for anyone intending to follow our example, that delightful as this dinner was, it didn't exactly come cheap. Two four-course 'Discovery Menus' accompanied with 'a glass' of wine with each course [it was actually only about half a glass] came to ISK 25.500 [USD 418 / GBP 204]. In my opinion the wine was the least value for money - it was fun to try different wines, but we could have easily ordered two bottles for the price they charged. Just FYI.

In absentia Airwaves review

Big Thank You, everyone. Your comments on the last post have given me a major boost. It makes such a difference to get a glimpse of the people behind the stats, as it were, and to know their responses to what I’m putting out there. I can’t quite explain why, but it does.

So now that I know how you feel, let’s get back to business.

This past weekend saw the Iceland Airwaves festival here in Reykjavík, which is an annual event and one of the coolest music festivals on the planet if you believe the hype – at least it has the foreign press is crawling all over it and punters from elsewhere making the trip. True to form, YT and EPI missed it, like we miss everything that’s supercool and unmissable around here, even though last year we solemnly declared that next year we wouldn’t miss it. But – we did!

Airwaves, largely sponsored by Nicelandair, started as a showcase for new Nicelandic bands a few years back and within two years had mushroomed into this major event that nonetheless has this really happy hometown feel to it. All the venues are situated within a few blocks of each other, and you buy these bracelets that are good for the whole festival, so you can just walk from one venue to another and check out whatever suits your fancy. They have this ‘Airwaves Centre’ at this pub right in the middle of the area, where you can have a drink and order food and generally hang out with other punters and talk about the different acts and whathaveyou. Airwaves prides itself on catching the latest cutting edge, up-and-coming bands [as opposed to big headlining acts] and reportedly this formula works rather excellently.

The biggest [read: best-known] act at the festival this year was Bloc Party, which has proven itself to be the coolest band in the universe. Why? Well there’s this upper secondary school in Hafnarfjörður [municipality in the Greater Reykjavík Area, the one you pass through first on your way in from the airport] called Flensborg, and they were organizing a school dance. It so happened that the school dance coincided with the Airwaves festival, and when the student committee sat down to brainstorm which bands they should try to get to play at their dance, someone suggested Bloc Party, which everyone thought was an excellent idea. So they got on the blower and called Bloc Party who went, ‘Play at your school dance? Sure!’ So Flensborg, this little school in Hafnarfjörður, southwest Iceland, had Bloc Party playing at their school dance this weekend and charging them less than most local bands would have. And that’s why you gotta love Bloc Party. And also those wacky – and irreverent– Nicelanders, bless.

Meanwhile, YT has her favourite Airwaves act all picked out [despite my absence] and it is Ólöf Arnalds, whose new CD I am quite obsessed with right now because it’s just so lovely. This girl quietly tiptoed into the mainstream about a year ago and is proving herself to be one of Iceland’s major cultural treasures. We saw a video installation she did at the Culture House during Reykjavík Culture Night last year, which was very cool, and just a few weeks ago she released this CD on which she plays most instruments, writes all the songs except for two, and sings. The music is really prettily arranged and the atmosphere is intimate and sort of old-fashioned ... reminds me of an old Icelandic timber house with lace curtains and the sun streaming through. Her voice takes a little bit of getting used to – it’s unusual, almost uncomfortable, so that you almost want to cringe but don’t, because she’s so sincere. And – this is a big plus – she sings in Icelandic, which is becoming very rare, what with everyone wanting to make it and singing in English. And she’s articulate and her lyrics are like gossamer – so delicate and joyful. Just gorgeous.

Okay, that concludes my Airwaves review [not bad for someone who wasn’t even there, wouldn’t you agree?] – and now for something completely different: make sure you check out this little guy here, and keep your volume on. [Heheheheh, and get a load of the bow at the end!]

AND HERE COMES THE WEATHER REPORT YOU ALL CLAIM TO READ:
We had a storm today. It started around noon, just as YT was heading out for a bracing walk around the golf course, meaning the walk was even more bracing than bargained for. Stuff went flying through the general locale and the rain came down in sheets. Happily it’s calmed down a bit now – temps currently 9°C [48F] with sunrise at 8.38 am and sunset at 5.45.

Yoko erects peace pole and all hell breaks loose

Imagine: no sooner is Yoko’s peace column erected [as it were] than all hell breaks loose in the Reykjavík city council, in fact so drastically that the majority collapsed yesterday and before you could say allyouneedisloveloveloveisallyouneed we had a new city government and a new mayor. All in the space of half a day.

Ironically, the Big Controversy that finally broke the council was a collaboration between the City of Reykjavík and Reykjavík Energy in a new company [Reykjavík Energy Invest] – and those two just happen to be the very parties instrumental in getting Yoko’s peace column up. Which has people wondering whether all the peace this column is supposed to be facilitating is, in fact, going into the column itself, with none left over for the surroundings. It's a thought.

Anyway, the former mayor has been booted out and we have a new mayor and a new four-[count ‘em!]-party, left-wing coalition. I didn’t vote for the old guy so I’m not sorry to see him go, but on the other hand I’m not positive about the new coalition either. We shall just have to see.

But on to more important things – like the fabulous film that EPI and I went to see this evening, held over from the International Film Festival last week, a German film called The Edge of Heaven [Auf der Anderen Seite in German, which means ‘On the Other Side’ – weird translation]. It was excellent – made by a Turkish-German citizen, the first film I’ve seen that reflects the Turkish-German reality, for as many of you will know there is a very large Turkish population in Germany [Turks were brought over to rebuild the country after WWII] and a great deal of resulting conflict. It’s the second excellent German production I’ve seen this year – the first being, of course, the amazing Lives of Others, which is my favourite movie so far this year.

Anyway, The Edge of Heaven is basically made up of two separate stories that interconnect in more ways than one. It’s filled with pathos and social commentary, emotion and drama, and for fear of spoiling the plot for anyone I won’t say any more. Except that it was really moving and I highly recommend it.

Oh, and also I’m completely delighted that Doris Lessing got the Nobel Prize for literature. She's one of my favourite writers, and the introduction to the second edition of Golden Notebook had a profound impact on my life, as some of you may remember from this post.

WEATHER!
The low-pressure area we were in for arrived as promised – passing through with the accompanying storm and rain last night. It had calmed down a bit today and the sun even made a few brave attempts to shine, but never quite got through. Then around five it suddenly blew up into a torrential rainstorm with the skies opening to dispense rain by the barrelful. It’s been fairly mild, though, which sort of makes up for it. Temps right now 11°C [52F], the sun came up at 8:07 this morning and went down at 6:19 pm.

Yoko flashes the light and speaks out on Nutopia

So Yoko Ono’s Peace Tower was lit on Tuesday night and it looks kind of cool, although also kind of scary, like a mammoth searchlight reaching into the clouds. Kind of like No Man’s Land has been transported to Viðey.

The ceremony itself was a little awkward, at least it had YT cringing in her seat in front of the telly, particularly when Yoko, Ringo, Olivia and Sean got out these little lights that they flashed on and off on people around them going: ‘I.love.you. I.love.you.’ etc. I kept wondering whether the people standing around in the audience were supposed to join them in the ‘I.love.you’ declarations, but if so then it was the wrong country because Icelanders are notorious for hating everything that is in the least bit sentimental and soppy. So most people just sort of stood around and fidgeted, with a few brave [or codependent] souls muttering ‘I.love.you’ under their breath, hoping they wouldn’t be seen by any of their friends.

Be that as it may, Yoko has been treated like a dignitary here, trotted out to meet all these politicos and CEOs of energy companies and suchlike, and of course everybody.loves.her because she’s very sweet and eccentric and – perhaps most importantly – she.loves.Iceland. And yet – I sometimes have to wonder whether she’s succumbed to the ranks of the Icelandic Utopianites [people who believe Niceland is Utopia on Earth, most of whom don’t actually reside here] because to hear her tell it, this place is Paradise. So clean, and so much energy, and so much clean energy [which is true] and so much wisdom and so on. [For some reason she’s said nothing about the nosepicking. Bizzare.]

The clincher in this little hypothesis of mine was a quote in Fréttablaðið this morning in which Yoko claimed that the difference between Reykjavík and New York was that there was no dust in the windowsills here, whereas in New York they had to constantly wipe the dust from their windowsills. Mokay.

First of all, I’d be extremely concerned if the luxury hotel in which she’s staying didn’t wipe the dust from their windowsills, and second, I invite Yoko to go into any normal home in Reykjavík, particularly the day after a storm, and examine the windowsills. I think she’d find even Utopia has dust.

AS FOR THE WEATHER
We’re between low-pressure areas at the moment and the weather looks awesome. The sun has just come out and there is not even the hint of a breeze, at least not as seen from my window. Time to get out there and make the most of it before a storm revs up later today. Currently 8°C [46F], sunrise was at 8:04 this morning, and sunset is due for 6:23 pm.

PS. Just noticed something - if you click on this link and read through Yoko's ceremony speech, you'll find this: "I know that John is with us, too, in this land of Nutopia ..." HAR!! NUTOPIA!! Is that a Freudian slip, or what? I mean, I know our Polly is living in the land of Nutopia, but I didn't know I was! HAR!

Our list of New York MOSTS

MOST EXCELLENT COFFEE SHOP
Vox Pop, on Cortelyou Rd. in Brooklyn. We discovered this place about halfway through our visit and could happily have spent the rest of our holiday hanging out there – in fact we almost did. We went back there daily for the superexcellent coffee [quite a rarity in NY, as we found out] and not least for the offbeat and sometimes radical reading material. Including the postcards. They even help people self-publish for a song!

MOST TOURISTY ACTIVITY
Grey Line Sightseeing tours – the Uptown, Downtown and Brooklyn loops. EPI was not easily sold on this one, considering it below his dignity to sit on top of a bus like a common tourist, but YT – who had taken a similar tour in London years ago – insisted. In the end EPI enjoyed it as much as I did, if not more.

MOST DELICIOUS BITE TO EAT
Pastrami on rye at Katz’s Deli. It’s famous – and for good reason.

MOST FANTASTIC PLACE TO CRASH
Our Bed and Breakfast in Brooklyn. I can’t praise this place enough! The hosts – Sue and Michael – were absolutely wonderful: easygoing, helpful, fun to be around, and intuitive to our every need. The bed was amazingly comfortable, and the numerous little details – DVDs in the hallway, bottled water in the fridge, soothing sound simulator [‘rainforest’, ‘ocean’...] in the room, little baskets in which to place our toiletries to take to the shared bathroom, gel pens at our disposal, bookshelf in the hallway ... lifted the B&B experience to new heights. And the breakfast was fabulous.

MOST TIME SPENT IN ONE NEIGHBOURHOOD
SoHo. Mostly shopping, but also dining. And meeting with Cassie.

MOST DELIGHTFUL SURPRISE
The amazing friendliness of almost everyone we met. People went out of their way to be kind, helpful and fun, and the service in every restaurant we went to was phenomenal. I loved the people we met – I would happily have taken every one of them home with us. [Except maybe the crazy guy on the subway who insisted on showing us in great detail on our subway map how we should get to our destination, but only because he smelled kinda bad].

MOST DOSH HANDED OVER TO A SINGLE COMPANY
The lucky recipient of most of our [substantial] expenditure was UNIQLO, closely followed by Apple.

MOST SATISFYING PURCHASE
The cute little ankle boots with a bow in the back, from Steve Madden.

MOST ALARMING
The invisible yet very evident divide between blacks and whites. An American friend used to say that she believed racial tensions would be the downfall of America. I don’t know if her prophecy will come to pass, but the tension was palpable.

MOST CONFUSING
The New York City subway. Why do some trains on some lines only go to some stops, and then only at some times? Why are the lines marked variously by numbers and letters, and then only some numbers and letters: 4, 5, 6, R, W, Q ...? And why can’t they just make up a map like the one of the London tube?

MOST ENJOYABLE STROLL
Walking along Fifth Avenue in Brooklyn last Saturday. So many delightful shops and restaurants!

Ok, that’s enough. Still suffering from jetlag, so it’s time to hit the sack. I’ve posted some photos to Flickr for anyone who’s interested. G’night!

PS Weather is rainy and windy. 10°C [52F], sunrise at 7:26 am, sunset at 7:08 pm.

New York magic

On our last night in New York, we had dinner with Ó [EPI’s daughter] in an atmospheric little Cuban restaurant in SoHo. Afterwards, we wandered up to Washington Square which was teeming with life ... we were drawn to a corner of the park where a small crowd had gathered. Two guys were sitting strumming on guitars, a guy with a bongo drum sat nearby and a girl was doing a brilliant rendition of Summertime. As we came closer we saw that the girl had clearly just been passing through, heard those guys and started singing ... she had on a jogging outfit and her backpack lay on the ground next to her.

When Summertime had finished, another guy in the crowd launched into a version of That’s Why They Call it the Blues, after which the girl with the backpack ad-libbed an incredible blues number that she and the guitar players made up on the spot. Everyone was completely in awe, and yet both she and the musicians and everyone else was caught up in the magic of the moment and just so ... happy. And it dawned on the three of us that we were in the midst of a fabulous impromptu concert that was developing in a completely organic way.

Soon another guitarist joined the crowd – an older man, probably in his sixties, very intense. At first he just sort of stood on the periphery and joined in the strumming, but suddenly he asked if he could do a song. He then launched into one of the most powerful protest songs I’ve ever heard – I wish I could remember the lyrics, or even his name, because he was phenomenal. Clearly he was in town for the protests launched in connection with the UN assembly, and I can say without hestitation that this guy was one of the most brilliant lyricists I’ve ever heard [and as you may recall, YT is a huge fan of excellent lyrics].

When he’d finished, he immediately launched into a recital of a poem along the same lines, also phenomenal. Everyone was completely spellbound listening to him. An even larger crowd gathered – different people, of all races and from all walks of life, and everyone listened. As soon as he’d finished, the guys with the guitars started playing Imagine and almost everyone joined in. It was incredible, magical.

Anyway, we’re back home now and the weather that greeted us when we stepped out of the airport terminal was enough to make us turn and head straight back to New York. When we left the temps were probably in the 30s C [80s F] and we came back to stormy, rainy, grey weather – as uninviting as can be. Unsurprisingly, both EPI and I are still there in spirit and not only because of the weather – the city, with its electric energy, quite simply got under our skin.

I can’t wait to go back.

We’re in for more stormy weather in the east, with winds dying down in the south. More rain tomorrow afternoon. Currently 10°C [50F] and sunrise was at 7:24 am, sunset at 7:12 pm.

Two pinnacles in a day of highlights

Went to the Brooklyn Book Festival today*. I thought I'd check it out, maybe listen to a reading or two, peruse the wares that vendors were peddling, perchance see if any of the publishers were interested in translations of Nicelandic literature. Had the idea that I might get the odd polite nod and smile, a raised eyebrow or two and then a kind brush-off. I never dreamed of the overwhelmingly enthusiastic response I'd get from virtually everyone. 'Iceland?? Oh, wow - we'd love to see some stuff from Iceland ... Iceland is so big right now.'

But we knew all that - right?

Went to a concert this evening at the Village Vanguard - Paul Motian trio was playing. EPI was really psyched to see them as he's a big fan of both Paul Motian and Bill Frisell ... YT is less of a fan but I was definitely up for the experience. Have to say, though, that I was primarily struck by how apathetic they were towards the audience, i.e. they did not interact with the audience at all. They came on, made no acknowledgment that there was actually a full house of people sitting there watching them, played a set for just over an hour during which they only looked at each other - never into the audience - and never uttered a word of thanks or took a bow or anything of the sort between songs. When the set finished, Motian spoke a few words in which he basically tried to get people to stay for a second set [which cost an additional ten bucks] at which they walked away and did not come back for an encore. Sheesh! I mean, they played well and everything, but to not even acknowledge for a second those people that paid money to see them and were totally enthusiastic and positive, came across as incredibly ungenerous and ungracious. Guess they were just too sexy for their clothes, or something.

Weather here is pretty cold, I'm told ... it just turned, three days ago, from being super-hot and humid. And now, if I stay up a moment longer, I'll need toothpicks to keep my eyes open, so t'rah for now!

*Actually, Sunday. My time settings are all screwed up, as is my biological clock.

Prep school princess

School’s in again, and this year AAH moved up a level. Here in Niceland, compulsory education ends at the age of sixteen, which corresponds to the end of elementary school. From then on, most kids move on to framhaldsskóli [upper secondary school] which is like a senior high school and lasts four years. It ends with a stúdentspróf, or high school equivalent [A-levels in the UK]. The other option is a trade or technical college – or no school at all.

Before going into a framhaldsskóli, kids have to pass standardized national exams. There’s usually a lot of competition for the top schools and the popular ones tend to go in and out of fashion – one year a particular school may be trendy, another year it will be another. Schools pick and choose their students and obviously the most in-demand ones are the most selective.

This year, the school with the most applications also happened to be the only true-blue prep school in the country, i.e. the only private upper-secondary school and also the only one that charges tuition fees. AAH, who has notoriously expensive taste, went for a visit there at the end of last school year and came home with stars in her eyes. The facilities were so gleaming new and shiny, the best of everything, and oh – it was all just so perfect. She completely set her sights on getting in – if she didn’t get accepted, she said, there was no point in her going to school at all. She’d just drop out and work. [She has a flair for the dramatic – what can I say?]

Anyway, she just scraped by on her grades – and in fact by the latest accounts hers were even slightly lower than the average, so the fact that she was accepted is a bit puzzling. I suspect it had something to do with her stellar turn in West Side Story a couple of years ago [and also a glowing recommendation from her former vice-principal, who adored her]. The prep school is renowned for its lavish annual musical productions … it’s well-known that they have the dosh to put on shows without having to cut any corners, and the fact that AAH has proven to have an aptitude in that area probably didn’t hurt.

Anyway, there’s a lot of money floating around the place – in fact it’s become one of the bastions of the Icelandic elite, which sadly is becoming more and more evident as the wage gap widens in this country. Predictably, there are stringent requirements for spending. In addition to the tuition fees, which are substantially higher even than the annual ‘registration’ fees at the University of Iceland, there appears to be no restraint when it comes to assigning textbooks, all of which must be purchased. This week so far the bill for books alone has come to ISK 40,000 [USD 616 / GBP 308], even though the majority were bought used and there’s still a handful outstanding on the list. [Meanwhile, the girl in the bookshop told us that she’d had to purchase books for ISK 8,500 (USD 131/ GBP 65) at her state school – quite the difference]. Laptops, too, are de rigeur, even though the school does not require them per se. And I’ll leave it to you to imagne the standards in fashion, hair, makeup, etc. [AAH gets up at 6 am to get ready to leave for school at 7.30 saynomore].

Not that I’m begrudging the cost. On the contrary, I’m delighted that AAH set her mind on achieving ‘the best’ and made it – I know it will boost her self-esteem and encourage her to keep striving for whatever she wants in the future, and as such it is absolutely invaluable. Plus, being among ‘the elite’ – as long as she keeps her chin up and her confidence high, which she is wont to do anyway – will hopefully only do her good. The year as a whole will be a challenge – the curriculum is demanding, and in addition to a full course of study she’s also moved up a notch at the Vocal Academy, where she started studying last year. This means seven hours a week in addition to her school studies, in vocal training, music theory and so on. [The Vocal Academy, incidentally, costs more than the prep school and books combined – and being the trouper she is, she’s paying for half of it herself, from her summer earnings]. The only thing that worries me a bit is that she also plans to keep her job on the side. After all [she maintains] she’ll need to find a way to finance all those designer clothes she needs to buy.

WEATHER!
Very wet. In fact, AAH just went off to her first prep-school party holding a newspaper over her head [umbrellas are so passé]. Currently 11°C [55F] and the sun came up at 5:45 am, set at 9:13 pm.

Dining in Reykjavík - our picks!

First this: even if I still haven't managed to grasp what Blogshares is, I was kind of chuffed to discover that it currently lists The Iceland Weather Report as the top Reykjavík blog, and the number two Iceland blog, following on the heels of the formidable Rebekka, who in case you don't know absolutely rules Flickr with her stunning, hyperbole-defying photographs.

Yay! I guess.

But on to more pressing concerns. In the comments to the last post, lectriclady turned the tables and asked YT to recommend some places where she could go for lunch and dinner when she visits our fair city later this month. As some of you may recall, I've been meaning to do more restaurant recommendations, so I decided to turn my reply into a separate post. Here goes.

LUNCH
As a rule, it's pretty hard for an Icelandic restaurant to mess up on food, simply because the quality of the ingredients here is superb. Mind you, some may be more adept than others at turning those ingredients into something delectable, and of course the service often leaves a lot to be desired [although the more posh places generally hire professional wait staff who have been through rigorous training and actually earned certificates in waiting on tables]. Many of the upscale places offer lunchtime specials that are excellent and a lot more reasonable than they are at night.

Hotel Holt
Their restaurant is one of the swankiest in town and boasts a super-impressive art collection. I haven't been there in a couple of years, but they're renowned for their food and their lunch special is an excellent deal. The downside is that the dining room is a bit dated and is really dark - which I find a bit of a drawback, especially in the summer.

Silfur
This place opened about a year ago in the gorgeous Hótel Borg and immediately earned a 'Hot Pick' type of accolade from Conde Nast. I haven't tried it but I understand the food is great and they do one of those great-value lunch menus.

LaPrimavera
Haven't been there since I wrote about it here, but I'm pretty sure it still holds its own and it has a lunch special. It has a lovely atmosphere, with high ceilings and huge windows overlooking Austurstræti.

Jómfrúin
This is a place I love for lunch - they specialize in Danish smörrebrod [open-faced sandwiches] that are absolutely to die for. My favourites are the breaded filet of plaice on rye and the lamb with deep-fried parsley. You can also order two half-portions, which is great if you can't make up your mind. Their prices are pretty good too, by Nicelandic standards, and the service is efficient and friendly. [Located in Lækjargata, no website, and closed evenings.]

Osushi
Located upstairs in the IÐA bookstore on Lækjargata, this sushi place is really popular at lunch. They serve sushi on a conveyor belt [i.e. you sit at a bar and pick the dishes you want to try as they go past] and of particular interest, to some at least, is the horse sashimi. Yes, quite.

DINNER
There's such a variety to choose from here, I hardly know where to begin, so I'll just go with a random selection.

Grillið
lectriclady is staying at the Hotel Saga, which has one of the best restaurants in the city: Grillið, on the top floor. Can't go wrong there, although it's on the pricey side.

Sjávarkjallarinn
The place everyone raves about, which our YT has not had the pleasure of trying. They do a taster menu for around ISK 7000, which is wery wery popular. If price was no object, I'd probably opt for this place, simply because it has such a stellar reputation.

Austur India Fjelagið
This Indian restaurant is one of my favourite spots in Reykjavík for dinner - their food is outstanding and the service about the most professional you'll get in this city [probably because some of the owners are from London]. Old Harrison Ford has a particular fondness for this place and tends to dine there whenever he's in Reykjavík, which is surprisingly often.

Hornið
This little Italian place is among the first café-type places that opened in Reykjavík and it has been consistently popular since then. It's incredibly cosy and their pizzas are great, plus their prices are reasonable.

Vegamót
This café morphs into a nightclub in the evening, but until then they serve really good food at great prices. There's a courtyard that is usually packed on sunny days in the summer.

Okay then! That should give some idea of places to dine in Reykjavík, although the list is by no means exhaustive. As for lectriclady's other question, whether I had any nightclub/music recommendations, I have to confess I'm a bit stumped. I tend to steer clear of Reykjavík nightlife a) because places don't really get hopping until around 1 am and by that time I'm too lazy to move; b) by four or five you'll have people puking in your lap, knocking you over and indiscriminately grabbing your boobs; c) by six or seven you're lucky to get home intact without some methhead breaking a bottle across your head.

As for concerts, unfortunately this is not the season - vibrant as the cultural life is here in Iceland, things tend to cool down in the summer, start to simmer in September, and hit a rolling boil by December. That said, any of those free Reykjavík guides available at hotels will probably prove me wrong in a second.

WEATHER!
Sitting outside on the balcony, soaking up the sun as I write this. It's sweltering hot in my little sheltered alcove, but out in the open it's pretty windy, which tempers the heat quite considerably. Everything looks so iridescent in this light - sunshine mixed with crisp Nordic air is such an irresistible combo. Currently 13°C [55F], sunrise was at 5:14 this morning, sunset scheduled for 9:48 pm.

Been there, done what?

Last night as we were surfing through NYC attractions EPI found a jazz concert with a couple of his absolute favourite musicians ever, playing there while we're visiting. It took us about, oh, ten seconds to buy tickets online and print them out and now EPI's totally psyched and can hardly believe his luck.

Which begs the next question: what else should we do while we're in New York? What are the must-see shows and/or plays, the most delectable, charming, fun restaurants, the sights that will delight and wow us? What are the best places for shopping - the most wonderful boutiques, hip stores, best outlet places, greatest department stores? The best places for a quick bite to eat? The best tours? The best live music? The best - whatever?

Come on, now, don't be shy!

WE'RE HAVING GORGEOUS WEATHER HERE ...
Yesterday was our annual Gay Pride parade - which contrary to most other places is a full-out family affair here in Niceland, with parents taking their kids out in strollers, face-painting, candy-floss vendors, etc. There is a Carnival-type atmosphere and everyone is in a great mood. It was exceptionally warm so the city centre was packed - around 50,000 people turned up for the festivities, or about one-sixth of the population of Iceland [the rest were all at the annual Fish Day in Dalvík, which everyone says is fabulous and which I have promised myself I will attend one day!] Haven't been out yet this morning but the sun looks gorgeous - it seems a bit windy, though, and when it's windy it's inevitably chilly. Temps are 13°C [55F] and the sun came up at 5:08 am and is due to set at 9:55 pm.

In Brooklyn we trust

So, remember earlier this year when I said we weren’t going abroad this year but asked you not to quote me on it, because, you know, just in case? Well, I hope you didn’t quote me on it, because we’re going.

We honestly weren’t going to ... it’s just that we got these travel vouchers as a present last year and just last week got around to reading the small print and lo! it turns out they expire in November. So that really leaves us with no choice, really. No choice at all. Except that we’re choosing to not use the vouchers to travel to the European destinations they were intended for, but to head for the Big Apple instead. Of our four girls, three have been to New York this summer, and they’ve all raved about it. In fact the two oldest loved it so much that one of them is planning to do a portion of her studies there this winter and, if she still loves it, to actually move there next year to study more, whereas the other has just accepted an au pair position there for the next twelve months, so she’ll actually be there when we go. I’ve been to New York several times, but mostly as a transit passenger; only twice have I spent any time there and I can safely say that it’s my favourite city. EPI, meanwhile, has never been – and out of all of us, he’s the one who probably should have got there a long long time ago, simply because he and New York are the perfect fit. I know this already.

So anyway, as soon as our panic about the tickets subsided and we made the calm and rational decision to throw our financial caution to the wind, YT got on t’Internet to find us a cosy little place to stay. Despite last summer’s home exchange fiasco I went for that option first, only to find that, unsurprisingly, there were no takers [short notice an’all]. Plan B was to search for places within our rather limited price range [the Waldorf Astoria was removed from the list], of which thankfully there seemed to be plenty; however, as the day wore on and reservation forms were returned to us with regrets, it dawned on us that, by golly, Manhattan looked like it was going to be stuffed to the rafters with tourists in September, with no room at the Inn for poor EPI and YT.

After nearly two days of obsessive Internet searches and persistent emailing, YT finally managed to track down the only Bed and Breakfast in the entire Greater New York Area that a) had vacancies for the dates we wanted to travel; b) did not get ‘STAY HERE IF YOU HAVE LOST THE WILL TO LIVE!’-sorts of reviews on tripadvisor.* The only problem was that it was in Brooklyn. Brooklyn! – which I have to confess I knew nothing about, except that it was not Manhattan, which was enough. And yet, our options were rapidly diminishing, and the vultures were circling around the room in Brooklyn as we deliberated – just that morning, the proprietress claimed, she’d had four inquiries about the room, so if we wanted it, we’d better move fast. So after a spot of frantic emailing with Cassie [whose input was invaluable] and a bit of cursory checking of travel times and subway lines, etc. we took a deep breath and booked it.

In the few days that have passed since then, I’ve become increasingly pleased with our ‘choice’ [figuratively speaking]. Everyone says Brooklyn is great – it’s where all the artists went when they were driven out of Manhattan by the high rents, and it has a lot of great little restaurants. Plus, we can get to midtown Manhattan easily enough on the train. The clincher? After I’d booked the room it suddenly hit me that both EPI and I are currently reading books that have ‘Brooklyn’ in the title – me, The Brooklyn Follies by Paul Auster, and EPI Motherless Brooklyn by Jonathan Lethem. So we’ll just call it fate.

I’D RATHER HAVE OUR WEATHER THAN THE NYC ONE RIGHT NOW
A quick weather search turns up a severe weather warning in New York due to heat – set to go up to 100°F today. Yowsa! That’s, like, nearly 40°C! Sure hope it will have levelled out by the time we get there, and am already counting my blessings that we’re not travelling in the summer. Here it’s been a fairly gloomy day, overcast with rain and temps around 14°C [55F]. So very pleasant actually, comparatively speaking. The sun came up behind the clouds at 4:55 this morning, and set a few minutes ago, at 10.09 pm.

* A couple of years ago I stayed in a hotel in London that I can safely say was the most horrific hotel experience of my life. I wrote a review about it on tripadvisor, and the ‘will to live’ remark was the actual title of the review that was written before mine. It was really that bad.

In which I gush profusely about the West Fjords

This latest hiking excursion of ours reconfirmed for me how much I absolutely love travelling in Iceland. It’s so vibrant with all sorts of impressions – from beautiful landscapes to incredible history, particularly the stories that abound in each place. In fact, to me that’s one of the most fantastic things about travelling here – the immensely dramatic narratives associated with every place. The Icelanders are a nation of storytellers – and story lovers.

The hiking group I belong to has been together in some shape or form for about the last 12 years. We’re all very different – of various ages and professions, and have somehow been drawn into this group. These are people I’d probably not hang out with under normal circumstances – we’re too different for that – but I’ve come to treasure being with them once a year because I just adore each and every one of them. There’s one thing they all share – a vibrancy of spirit, an agelessness, that makes them absolutely unique, and so much fun to be around. Plus, I’d trust each one of them with my life.

One of the group is a seasoned mountaineer who has been a guide with the Iceland Touring Association for years and knows countless locations off the beaten track. Those are the places we tend to go. This time we were based in a small village called Reykhólar and explored an area called Barðaströnd, on the southern coast of the West Fjords.

On day one, we set off along the picturesque coast of one fjord and hiked to the end, then up the coast of the next one. Day two we drove to a fjord somewhat further away, then turned off the road and took a bumpy jeep track to a country church in a highly remote location. We stopped to have lunch next to a boulder known as ‘Prestasteinn’ or ‘parson’s rock– which is believed to contain the skeleton of a mean old parson underneath [see here]. We also looked for the ruins of a sheep shed that featured rather dramatically in another tale, too long to recount here, but were unsuccessful [I guess we were fairly optimistic to expect to find the remains of a 200-year old sheep shed – not the most robust of structures]. On the way back, we stopped and hiked across a mountain pass known as Gufudalsháls, the so-called ‘kirkjuleið’ or ‘church road’ that the locals used to take in centuries past when they went to church. It took about four hours, went up to an elevation of 380 m., and ended at this gorgeous little country church.

On day three we headed for the mountains known as Vaðalfjöll – very stunning both in shape and formation – they’re essentially made up of basalt columns, which routinely fall off and create deposits in the surroundings. It was quite a hairy climb to the top, along a very steep and narrow pass, and even hairier going down. From there we drove to a place called ‘Borg’ and hiked down to the seashore where we were stopped in our tracks by the vision of two eagles circling overhead. As is the case elsewhere, it is extremely rare to see eagles here in Niceland, much less to be treated to a lengthy show of their aerial acrobatics and harrowing battles with a handful of arctic tern that seemed to take it in shifts to go after them. The tern are beautiful birds but highly aggressive – they even attack humans who dare venture near their nesting areas, and act as ‘soldiers’ for other birds, who make a point of building their nests near them. This particular tern was relentless, screeching and dive-bombing on the poor eagle, which made feeble efforts to swat it with its wings. While we sat there and ate lunch we pondered the mystery of why the eagle didn’t just swoop down on one of the islets offshore, where there were nests aplenty filled with succulent little baby birds. Later we found out that there’s an eagle’s nest in the cliff behind us and incredibly, eagles don’t hunt within two kilometers’ radius of their nests. Fascinating. Anyway, after observing this for a while we carried on to this rock, known as the ‘trading post of the elves’ – the story behind which I do not know, apart from that elves feature prominently in Icelandic lore. It, incidentally, contained falcons' nests.

On our fourth and final day we hired a boat and skipper and headed out to Skáleyjar in Breiðafjörður bay, a cluster of islands that are still inhabited by two elderly brothers – who because of their age only live there in summer now. They keep sheep and collect eider down from the nests on the islands, which they refine and sell for hefty sums. We were promised coffee and ‘kleinur’ [Icelandic dough pastries] while out there, but as it turned out, the brothers weren’t home that day so were unable to receive us. No matter, because our skipper showed us around – he turned out to be incredibly well informed and a natural guide. Since we had to miss coffee he suggested we sail over to the nearby island of Flatey [one of the most charming places on earth] for soup and homemade bread at the sole restaurant. He didn’t have to ask twice – and so we got a guided tour of Flatey as a bonus. It was an excellent day, much longer than we’d originally bargained for, and our skipper refused to charge us a krona more than had initially been arranged.

A massive ‘gala dinner’ that evening wrapped up those four excellent days; however EPI and I hadn’t had quite enough of the West Fjords so we struck out on our own in a westerly direction. I’m sure I could write a short novel on everything we experienced in those two days, but the cursory version will have to do: we headed out to Tálknafjörður, a small fishing village that I absolutely fell in love with three years ago on one of our hiking trips. From there we explored some of the amazing sights in the region, including Rauðisandur [Red Sands] and Látrabjarg cliff, where the puffins are so friendly you can virtually reach out and touch them. The latter is the westernmost point of Iceland and hence Europe, and rises straight up as a sheer cliff face 441 metres [around 1,500 ft] from the sea. Rauðasandur is amazingly lovely and has been the site of some incredibly dramatic events in the past, particularly Sjöundá [site of one of the most heinous murder cases in Iceland, two centuries ago] and Skor, a remote headland that we hiked out to, and that takes hikers along a highly treacherous path that is definitely not for the faint at heart.

Anyway, the West Fjords have completely captured my heart – it’s such a magnificent area, filled with amazing people and stunning scenery. Mysticism, too – in addition to the dramatic tales that abound, it’s been the main site of sorcery and witchcraft in Iceland. In fact, while driving up there I was flipping through the real estate ads and found a small guest house for sale in Tálknafjörður for a pittance … tempting. Very tempting.

TODAY’S WEATHER
Fair and windy, temps around 13°C [57F]. Sunrise was at 4:33 am and sunset due for 10:32 pm.

All Hail Niceland Express

Notice anything new? No? Look around a bit more.

[dumdum...]

Oh all right – I have a new graphic ad in my sidebar. See it?

That’s right, I’ve sold my soul to Iceland Express, and very happy I am about it, too. I think every blogger should have graphic ads on their blog as long as they’re in good taste because, you know, it’s so hard to get published these days. And that’s because people don’t read books any more, they read blogs. And so isn’t it grand that bloggers can actually make a little bit of dosh doing what they love and thus feel rewarded and appreciated, and not have to grovel at the feet of some self-important literary agent in order to maybe, maybe, penetrate that brutal, armed fortress known as The Publishing Industry?

[Yes, I've been there, done that, and maybe one day I shall tell you about it.]

Anyway, that’s not what I’m here to talk about – I’m here to tell you about Niceland ‘Spress, which I’m really happy to endorse because they were instrumental in rescuing the Icelandic nation from the monopolistic clutches of old Icelandair. For years and years Icelandair were the only airline serving this tiny nation, which meant that in order to get off the rock we had to pony up whatever extravagant sum they determined we should pay – which unfailingly was about double or triple what passengers travelling from the US and Europe were paying. In real terms this meant that we were subsidizing the low-cost fares Icelandair was offering the punters who flew across the Atlantic. A bitter pill indeed, that unfortunately we were forced to swallow.

That is until low-cost airline Iceland Express stormed onto the scene about five years ago. They started with two destinations, London and Copenhagen, and Icelandair instantly dropped their fares to Europe. Gradually, with added competition, Icelandair lowered their other prices as well, even to destinations that IE doesn’t serve [the US]. Since then Iceland Express have added a bunch more destinations and now fly to a total of 13 cities [at least this summer, see their schedule here] and if news reports over the last few days are to be believed, they are now looking to the Canadian market, what with the freshly-signed aviation agreement with Canada.

Plus – and this is the clincher – an announcement came the other day that Iceland Express is making plans to advance into the domestic flights market. Air Iceland – an Icelandair subsidiary – currently holds the monopoly on domestic flights and uses it to its full advantage – anyone who has ever taken a domestic flight within Niceland will understand. For instance, flying Reykjavík to Egilsstaðir, in the east, costs about the same as flying from Iceland to London, which is obviously just ... wrong. From what I understand these plans hinge on Iceland Express having proper facilities at the domestic airport, an issue that they supposedly are trying to resolve in conjunction with city authorities. So if they could work their magic on the domestic flights market, similar to what they did to the international one, I’m sure we’d all be more than ecstatic.

IT’S SO DARK OUT THERE RIGHT NOW, YOU’D THINK IT WAS WINTER ALREADY
It’s been raining and overcast all day long and, of course, the day keeps getting shorter. It’s amazing how quickly it happens after the summer solstice – after a month or so of round-the-clock daylight it’s suddenly dark for a couple of hours around midnight. It’s been raining on-and-off all day, and is decidedly gloomy. People are carrying around a long face again, including YT. Actually, it just makes me want to go to sleep, which is precisely what I think I’ll do now. Currently 13°C [55F] and sunrise was at 3:55 am, sunset at 11.10.

PS. Incidentally, Niceland ‘Spress have a blog, to which I shall occasionally be contributing.