Slight deviation from schedule to bring you some running April

Today is one of my favourite days of the year here in Niceland because today is the day that all the Nicelanders try to trick each other into 'Running April', as it's called here. What this means is that the April fool's joke has to get you to cross a threshold, otherwise it's a failure.

In past years YT has been highly successful in the April-running sweepstakes, getting EPI and AAH to cross the threshold every time. I didn't play any tricks today, mostly because it was a normal working day and everyone had left by the time I got up and by the time they got home they were already well on guard. EPI meanwhile sent me a text message this afternoon asking me to please call him at a given number, not his cell phone number because he was running out of battery juice, and that it was urgent. I suspected not a thing and dialled the number, only to get a recorded message that it was for a rather dubious enterprise offering certain, ahem, carnal services. [Apparently this was a SMS message that was making the rounds today.] However, EPI didn't get me to cross a threshold, so his tomfoolery failed, nyah nyah!

The other fun thing about this day is that the media all plays the game, and tries to get people out to run April. Fréttablaðið had a report on its front page that between 7.30 and 9.30 this morning a certain gas station in the city was offering gas for ISK 107 a litre as opposed to the ISK 149 that it costs these days [we have massive ongoing protests about this, the country's truck drivers are out every day blocking traffic, I feel like I'm living in freaking France] to highlight how much of the price per litre the government pockets in tax. ~ Morgunblaðið ran this story that Bob Dylan was in town to check out the facilities for his upcoming concert here and that he was going to do some busking along with Iceland's singular busker, Jo Jo [seriously, he is the only one], outside Eymundsson in Austurstræti at 2 pm. ~ Meanwhile, visir.is reported that Al Gore, who is [really and truly] in town to give a talk tomorrow on [what else] global warming, would be staying on a yacht formerly owned by Saddam Hussein and now owned by Icelandic entrepreneur Pálmi Haraldsson. The yacht was supposed to arrive in Reykjavík at 3 pm and the public was being invited to view it before the US security people went in to inspect it for bombs and stuff. ~The evening news on Stöð 2 ran an elaborate story that the first iPhones were finally being sold in Iceland on account of Vodafone having unexpectedly reached an agreement with Apple. The clip showed a line of people and interviewed one punter who was shown opening up his phone package and going on about how great it was that he'd waited, as opposed to ordering his phone from the US. The phones [the clip said] would be sold at the main Vodafone store in Reykjavík and Akureyri for another few hours, or while supplies lasted from the rather limited shipment that had been received. ~ There were lots more, but probably the best one was by the Feminists Association, which claimed it would protest the objectification of women at the Vesturbæjarlaug swimming pool at 5 pm today, and urged women to swim topless. Rock on!

AND EVEN THE WEATHER PLAYED ALONG AND GOT EVERYONE OUTSIDE
Because it was gorgeous today, brilliant sunshine and less wind than we've had in the past few days, although there was still enough of it to give me a good workout during my run. Spirits were buoyant and it honestly felt like spring had finally arrived. At the moment we have 1°C [34F], with sunrise this morning at 6.44, sunset at 8.20 pm.

PS - Apparently Google ran an April fool's story about being able to backdate emails. I had to smile [wryly] because coincidentally I had just talked to someone who I'm sure would have jumped at the chance to do so prior to our exhchange. I'll say no more.

[Incidentally, I haven't forgotten about the questions.]

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.

What do cream puffs and bloated bellies have in common with dead cats?

I was somewhat surprised yesterday to discover that three of my favourite days of the year are already coming up right after the weekend: bolludagur [Cream Puff Day], sprengidagur [Eat Salted Lamb Until You Burst Day] and öskudagur [Ash Wednesday]. This happy trio marks the beginning of Lent, and as you'll probably know Easter comes exceptionally early this year, hence their early arrival.

Bolludagur comes first, on Monday. On this day children are supposed to sneak into their parents' room before they get out of bed in the morning and spank them on the bottom with colourful wands specifically made for that purpose. The number of spanks they manage to get in determines the number of bollur - cream puffs - they get to imbibe. In other words, hitting your mother five times on the butt will earn you five cream puffs.

The spanking bit does not extend to grownups [unless they are partial to that sort of thing] who can simply go out and buy their own cream puffs, like EPI and I did today. In fact, most people here get an early start on the bollur and buy them as soon as the bakeries start offering them, which is generally the weekend prior to the official day. Here's a little educational video that mbl.is put together to teach people how to eat their bollur with a minimum of fuss. Watch and learn.

Right after bolludagur comes sprengidagur, when you're supposed to eat saltkjöt og baunir [salted lamb and split-pea soup] until you burst. Of the three days, this is my favourite, simply because I LOVE salted lamb and split pea soup. Seriously, it's one of the most superexcellent meals ever. Super bad for you, too, what with all the sodium and preservatives and whatnot, so eating it once a year is about right. Today we went grocery shopping and bought salted lamb in copious amounts and already just the thought of Tuesday's dinner is making me swoon. - Incidentally, the idea behind sprengidagur is that you eat so much that you can fast for the entire 40 days of Lent, which of course is what EPI and I will be doing.

When that's done, we're onto öskudagur, which is the same as Ash Wednesday and sort of like Iceland's version of Halloween. When I was a little kid you were supposed to sew all these little pouches and fill them with ash and then pin them to the backs of unsuspecting adults who would then go around for the entire day with little pouches pinned to their backs and supposedly be objects of ridicule. Personally I always thought this day was kind of stupid and never as much fun as it was made out to be. In fact, it was no fun at all. So you managed to pin a pouch to some person's back - whoopee! They walked off, and you were out of a pouch that you'd put considerable effort into making. Absurd.

Up in the north, though, in Akureyri, they had a far superior tradition: everybody got dressed up in costumes and then banged a wooden barrel that supposedly contained a dead cat. This activity, prosaically enough, was called "banging the cat out of the barrel". There was also candy involved, although I can't remember exactly how - I only took part in this activity on one occasion. Here's a picture [I'm the one dressed up as a demon, pretty scary huh?]:

Anyway, the modern version of öskudagur is a lot more fun in that kids get all dressed up and go around to stores and businesses and sing songs in return for candy. More gratifying than hanging silly pouches onto the backs of clueless adults, I'm sure you'll agree.

AND WE'RE STILL IN THE IRON CLUTCH OF WINTER
Last night was like the deep freezer - when I went out to drive AAH to a dinner party its was -15 fricking °C, which hardly ever happens around here. [What? You thought Iceland was cold?] It got so bad that there was record hot water use in Reykjavík [we heat our homes with geothermal water, as I'm sure you know] and it got so bad that a number of swimming pools had to be shut down because of a shortage of hot water. Something I've never heard of happening before. Anyway, we're in for some respite as early as tomorrow, meaning I can go for a run without getting frostbite on the inside of my lungs, phew. Right now it's only -3°C [27F] and the sun came up at 10.07 and went down at 5.17 pm.

PS - THANK YOU to all of you who voted for the Weather Report in The Bloggies, and not least to all of you who have emailed or left comments with kind words and good wishes. It really means a lot!

A bit of history, a dash of grammar, a pinch of tradition, a swish of serendipity

Got an email from my uncle this evening, assuring me that he had cast his vote for the Weather Report [last chance, everybody!] and also reminding me that I have some pretty significant ties to the captain's quarter noted in the last post. Which, as it happens, I had not forgotten, but had simply omitted because I didn't have a photo of the particular house central to those ties - the house that my great-grandfather built, and where both my father and my uncle were born.

My great-grandfather on my father's side was a sea captain who graduated from the Stýrimannaskóli in 1912. Like all the other sea captains he built a house in the area, on Öldugata, which - if you remember your lesson from last post - means 'wave street' and is a derivative of alda [it's alda in the possessive case, in fact] - as well as being a woman's [given] name.

My great-grandfather named his only daughter Alda [well, Guðrún Alda, actually, but she was always called Alda], which probably says something about his strong ties to the sea. And because it is common here in Iceland to name children after their grandparents, I wound up with the same name as my grandmother - Alda, meaning 'wave'. When I moved back to Iceland nearly 14 years ago, the first apartment I bought was on Bárugata, which - you'll recall - also means 'wave street' and happens to run parallel to 'Öldugata' - 'Alda's street' - where my great-grandfather built his house, and where both my father and my uncle were born. In fact, I looked down on both 'wave streets' from my window - Öldugata from one side of the flat, and Bárugata on the other.

And thus concludes the story of YT's ties to the captain's quarter.

AND AS OF TODAY, I NO LONGER HAVE PERMISSION TO BITCH ABOUT THE WEATHER
Because today totally takes the cake in the miserable weather sweepstakes. It was awful. In fact I decided to white-knuckle it through my endorphin withdrawal today, despite the fact that I was desperate for a run, because the weather was so damn ghastly. What was it, you ask? Blizzard, snowdrift, freezing rain? Hell no, that would have been fun. This was the coldest mutha of a wind we've had for years, a mean wind that blew through in violent spasms and just sounded bad. There was not a single bit of humour in the weather today - it was just nasty. Right now we have -8°C but feels like -18, and that's 18F and feels like 0°F. [Yeah yeah, I know you have it worse in Minnesota, and believe me, I sympathize!] Sunup today 10.13 am, sunset 5.10 pm.

PS in case anyone is interested in knowing where this captain's quarter and environs are located, here's a map.

YT passes on the shark and feeds EPI tulips instead

I have my favicon back, HUZZAH!! Look! Up next to the web address.

OK, now that that's sorted, I can finally get back to relating the inane details of my daily life.

So yesterday was feed-your-man-putrid-shark day here in Niceland, also known as bóndadagur, or 'man of the house day'. It's the day when women are supposed to go out and buy rotten food for their husbands or boyfriends or partners, and bring it home along with a bouquet of tulips. Actually, I didn't know about the tulip thing until yesterday, when I went to Hagkaup to pick up some lamb filets and lobster tails for dinner [note that I didn't buy any putrid shark because I'm civilized] and I noticed that all the pails that had previously contained tulips were empty [except for a couple of bouquets with pink tulips] whereas all the pails containing roses were full. Hm, thought I, and continued on my merry way, until a few minutes later when I noticed a swarm of women descending on the flower pails. Naturally I had to investigate and promptly discovered that the reason for the commotion was that the tulip pails were being filled and the women were virtually trampling all over each other trying to get at them.

Which is when I realized: I was supposed to bring EPI tulips and I didn't even know. Damn! How had he put up with me all those years? Tulipless?? I snatched a bouquet quick as a flash, and triumphantly delivered it to an overjoyed EPI a few minutes later.

Dinner was excellent, and EPI didn't miss the rotten food at all. Because, well, he had tulips. And an excellent bottle of red wine. And YT doting on him for the entire evening. At least up to the point where I just had to put on an episode of Grey's Anatomy because I was getting serious withdrawal symptoms [have I mentioned my recent Grey's Anatomy obsession? Dampened only by my annoyance that Derek and Meredith - Merde-ith - are taking the whole damn second season to get it on? Sheesh, why can't he just accept that he really loves her and be done with it, already!*] at which point EPI made himself scarce because if there's one thing that EPI cannot stand it is hospital dramas. And thus ended our 'man around the house day', with YT flaked out on the sofa watching Grey's Anatomy with AAH, eating Ben and Jerry's New York Fudge Chunk ice cream, and EPI in his play room, strumming his guitar.

WEATHERMAN SEZ WE'RE IN FOR A STORM
A nasty, wet-weather storm, that will undoubtedly turn our winter wonderland to slush. Winds are going to be up to 30 m/s tomorrow. Today was overcast, with hardly any wind which made it excellent for skiing. And, as promised, pictures. Sunrise/sunset same as below.

* Please, nobody feed me any spoilers!

Of fairies and flying trees and blog posts that were discarded

So, Christmas officially ended yesterday here in Niceland, with the passing of þrettándinn, meaning 'the thirteenth' - or, in plain old English - Twelfth Night. [Incidentally, I wondered for years why it was called the 12th in English and the 13th in Icelandic ... until I figured out that here in Iceland we celebrate Christmas a day earlier than the Anglo Saxons. D'oh!]

That day - þrettándinn - is traditionally marked with more brennur [at which people dressed up in elf and fairy costumes sometimes appear, so yes, this guy had some of his facts straight. Fireworks displays are held, members of the general populace shoot up any leftover rockets, and also take down their Christmas decorations, making this also a day of flying Christmas trees, as people generally toss them down from their balconies when they're done. From there they are dragged to the sidewalks where bright orange trucks from the City come pick them up to give them a second life as wood chips to be used on walking paths, meaning that anyone who has become overly attached to their tree can go visit it later.

We decided to let our beautiful tree stay up for one extra day because, well, it is just so darn good looking. Plus we had people over for dinner last night and EPI's sister brought a bottle of Veuve Cliquot and, well, you just can't take down a Christmas tree when you're high on Veuve Cliquot. It's just not humanly possible. Trust me. You don't even wanna try.

Anyway. Christmas is over, the sun rises higher in the sky each day, and the New Year stretches ahead like an unwritten blog post. Life is good.

IT'S LOOKING MIGHTY GORGEOUS OUT THERE
Frigid and clear these next few days is what the weatherman is forecasting. Currently -2°C [28F], sunrise was at 11.12 and sunset due for 3.56 pm.

PS - Some of you may be surprised to see that yesterday's post has been pulled. The subject matter turned out to be a bit too flammable and attracted interest from camps that YT had no idea were watching. Potentially this might have harmed not only YT but also someone very close to me. Hence measures were taken.

The Gift that never gets old

In Germany, they have a half-hour TV show that they've aired on New Year's Eve day every year for the past 40 years or so, that is an inextricable part of the tradition over there [and also happens to be one of the few things on TV not dubbed into German].

Mindful of its popularity, and because we love our traditions here at the Weather Report, we give you our own little custom: the same New Year's post as last year and the year before that, and probably next year and the year after that. Because it's our favourite joke. Happy New Year, everyone!!!

THE GIFT

A young man wanted to purchase a gift for his new sweetheart’s birthday, and as they had not been dating very long, after careful consideration, he decided a pair of gloves would strike the right note: romantic, but not too personal.

Accompanied by his sweetheart’s younger sister, he went to Nordstrom and bought a pair of white gloves. The sister purchased a pair of panties for herself. During the wrapping, the clerk mixed up the items and the sister got the gloves and the sweetheart got the panties. Without checking the contents, the young man sealed the package and sent it to his sweetheart with the following note:

“I chose these because I noticed that you are not in the habit of wearing any when we go out in the evening. If it had not been for your sister, I would have chosen the long ones with the buttons, but she wears short ones that are easier to remove.

“These are a delicate shade, but the lady I bought them from showed me the pair she had been wearing for the past three weeks and they were hardly soiled. I had her try yours on for me and she looked really smart.

“I wish I was there to put them on for you the first time, as no doubt other hands will come in contact with them before I have a chance to see you again.

“When you take them off, remember to blow in them before putting them away as they will naturally be a little damp from wearing.

“Just think how many times I will kiss them during the coming year. I hope you will wear them for me on Friday night. All my love.

“P.S. The latest style is to wear them folded down with a little fur showing.”

[PS here's hoping your weather is better than ours. We have storm and all our brennur have been cancelled. Boo.]

After which she put on her faerie costume and went to make steaming drink for the tourists

So the mayhem is underway. The heart-stopping explosions out of nowhere started yesterday ... incredibly startling at first, but quick to become commonplace. I'm talking firecrackers and fireworks being exploded beneath people's windows and in other inappropriate places. If any of you foreigners visiting our fair isle and reading this are wondering why there are not a single trash can in sight and all the outdoor mailboxes are barricaded - that's why. Measures have been taken.

Yes, dear readers, fireworks are sold freely to the general public up here in the days between Christmas and New Year's, although FORTUNATELY there is an age limit of 18 years so of course there is NO WAY for underaged kids to get their hands on them, just as there is NO WAY for them to get their hands on any liquor for New Year's Eve. Meaning that those explosions are almost all generated by adults with their full wits about them [heheh - yah right].

Meanwhile, this e-zine has listed Reykjavic [sic] as one of the ten best places in the world to spend New Year's Eve, right up there with Vegas and downtown Greensboro [?]. Far be it from me to contest this claim, although personally I would have put Reykjavík at number 1 because it hosts, without question, the most superexcellent New Year's Eve party in all the world - the entire city, all of it. However, I must confess I was slightly taken aback by the editor's description of our antics up here on New Year's Eve, to wit:

... the locals celebrate by welcoming tourists into their homes, serving them steaming drink, lighting bonfires and prancing around in elf and faerie costumes. Just like in Lord of the Rings! As a bonus, if the night is clear you'll see the splendor of the Northern Lights as midnight strikes.

First of all, I have to wonder what sort of shit his sources were smokin' because ... elves and faeries? Okay. And, you know, personally I've never known anyone to fling open their doors to tourists to welcome them into their homes to serve them hot drinks ... but then maybe I'm just hanging around with the wrong people. Third, there is not a fricking hope in hell that you'll see the northern lights at midnight on New Year's Eve because a) the skies are absolutely FILLED with exploding fireworks and b) the spaces in between are absolutely FILLED with billowing clouds of smoke from exploding fireworks.

But hey - far be it from me to detract anyone from getting dressed up Just like in Lord of the Rings! but I'm willing to bet that anyone who does will be a tourist who has been reading YES Weekly and thinks this is the way we do it up here. Come to think of it, I hope lots and lots of people do, because, you know, wouldn't that be hilarious? Hordes of tourists all dressed up like elves and faeries, sniffing around the locals' front doors, desperate to be let in for some steaming drink? Bring it on!

MEANWHILE, WE MAY NOT SEE ANY FIREWORKS AT ALL
Because they're forecasting horrific weather for New Year's Eve, meaning all our brennur may be cancelled and people will be advised to stay indoors and absolutely NOT to fire off any rockets that may unwittingly end up inside people's coats or pants legs or nostrils. A bad storm is supposed to come through tomorrow and is supposed to persist on the 31st. Which will be a major drag ... the only good thing I can think of that may come out of it is that my dear stepdaughter who has been here for Christmas and who is supposed to fly back to New York tomorrow will have her flight cancelled and thus will be able to spend New Year's with us. We Shall See. Actually the same sort of weather happened a couple of years ago and all the brennur were moved to New Year's Day, which just wasn't the same. But, whaddaryagonnado. The temps have been inching upwards all day and are now 2°C [36F], sunrise was at 11.22 am and sunset at 3.37 pm.

PS actually to be fair there is old folklore that elves and fairies appear on the Þrettándinn - Twelfth Night, January 6th. There are brennur [bonfires] held on that night also, and in some parts of the country people dress up like the king and queen of the elves and make an appearance at the brennur - for the kids, much like Santa Claus.

Getting the Yule on

Today I spent a full ten minutes in my local fish shop and when I got home I was forced to put every item of clothing I was wearing in the washing machine. Reason? Putrid skate day is coming up, and they had a handsome selection of raw pieces already in stock.

Dear readers, this blog has not been very heavy on the Yule lately, and those of you who have been reading alongtime may be asking yourselves where all the posts about the Yule Lads and Grýla and the Yule Cat are, whilst secretly wondering whether our YT is making only a halfhearted attempt at getting her Yule on this year. To which the answer is, not to worry, we're getting our Yule on as usual, only when you've blogged about those crafty Yule Lads for three years in a row you get a wee bit weary because, let's face it, there's only so much that you can say about them, especially when you don't have little kids any more that totally believe that there's a new Yule Lad that comes down from the mountains every night and deposits a little gift in their shoe, not to mention writes them letters in Old English font.

In three more days it will be Christmas up here [we celebrate on the 24th] and, as a matter of fact, our particular Christmas starts a day early, on the 23rd, because that's when YT celebrates her birthday, so everything has to be done before then. The more astute amongst you may recall that YT's birthday happens to coincide with putrid skate day, and that for the last few years YT and EPI have been invited to a rancid skate party at EPI's brother and sister-in-law's place. Only they had the nerve to move to Selfoss earlier this year [boo!] so there shall be no rancid skate party this year. And before you ask, no, I'm certainly not going to throw one at our place because when you throw a rancid skate party every last object in the house becomes permeated with the smell which can only be described as a cross between ammonia and cat piss. Multiplied by about 1010. Right before the holiest of all holy days. I may be crazy, but I'm not insane.

OK. Let's see. We've already done the Yule buffet, we've been to The Virgin, we've been to the Yule party at my father's place for all the kids and grandkids. I've bought all the Christmas prezzies that I need to buy [I may have to assist EPI and AAH a bit tomorrow and the next day], and today we went out and did most of the grocery shopping for Christmas dinner and my birthday. Plus last night EPI and I went out and bought our Christmas tree from the charity in support of children with cancer. It's sitting out on the balcony as we speak, because the tradition here is that the tree doesn't go up until the 23rd [in our case the 22nd, for reasons above]. The only thing I haven't done is bought myself any Yule Cat insurance [unless a pair of nylons count] because, quite frankly, I can't be bothered to go out and buy myself a new Christmas dress when I have a perfectly good one that I bought last year and which I've only used, like, twice since then.

OK, the truth is I've developed a sudden fierce allergy to shopping malls and fitting rooms. The other day I went to Kringlan for the first time in months and within 20 minutes felt like I'd had all the lifeblood sucked out of me and was ready to crawl beneath the nearest clothing rack in a foetal position and just lie there until I was beamed up to the nearest Galactic spaceship. I took it as a sign to get the hell out of there, and to not go back until the hordes have left. Besides, the rampant consumerism makes me ill, as I alluded to in a previous post. I've never felt it quite this strongly before, but I certainly do now, and I'm sure it has something to do with some rather eye-opening, and perhaps even life-changing, experiences I've had recently [more on that later, perhaps].

I think I'll leave you with a little story that I heard from my half-sister the other day. She has two boys [and a wee baby girl] and the younger of the boys [who is three] is just getting his head around the whole Yule Lad concept. However, he hadn't quite figured out what it means when you get a potato in your shoe [it means you've been bad and it's a Very Serious Matter] and when the first Yule Lad arrived this year, both he and his brother got a potato because they'd been naughty the previous day. However, he happens to like potatoes, so he came running out to his mom, all excited, and asked: "Can you help me peel it?" [D'oh!]

IT'S BEEN OVERCAST AND WERY WERY DARK TODAY
So believe me, I was grateful for my HappyLight™, which was on duty the entire time I spent at home. Although, to be honest, I'm not perfectly sure whether it's making a difference, or if it's all in my head. I mean, I think I have fewer SAD symptoms, but I'm still pretty tired and stuff, and it's hard to get up in the mornings [although it might help if I went to bed at a decent hour, and not at, say, 2 am]. I'm not depressed or anything, though, and my concentration is back up to speed, so ... maybe. maybe. Currently 8°C [46F], the sun came up at 11.21 and went down at 3.29 pm. Winter solstice tomorrow! Huzzah!

Ain't no Yule without The Virgin

Christmas in Iceland is all about tradition, and for EPI and YT there quite simply is no freaking Christmas unless we get our Yule Platter at The Virgin.

In fact, this conviction has passed repeatedly through my panicked mind over the past two weeks, having been told that The Virgin was all booked up every day and every evening until Christmas and there was not a hope in hell that we’d be able to get a table unless something major happened, like a massive fricking storm that would drive everyone off the streets and into the malls. Which is exactly what happened last Friday. Whew.

The Virgin is the English translation of Jómfrúin, which is the name of a restaurant in downtwn Reykjavík and also a euphemism for ‘Danish woman who makes open-faced sandwiches’. Those open faced sandwiches are called smørrebrod and are traditionally Danish. In Denmark they have been elevated to a high art, so much that it takes years to be educated as a smørrebrod-maker, and those who actually graduate in the art of smørrebrod-making can officially call themselves jómfrú which in English translates into ‘virgin’ or, more specifically, ‘female virgin’.

Anyway, the owner of Jómfrúin is a man, and not just any man but actually the first member of the male gender to actually graduate as a jómfrú [geddit? He’s not actually a female, yet he’s a jómfrú]. And – predictably – the restaurant specializes in smørrebrod, a scrumptious selection of which they serve every day of the year [but only until 6 pm because true smørrebrod places are never open in the evenings]. During Advent, however, Jómfrúin completely departs from its regular programming and serves up a fantastic Yule Platter, featuring a selection of seven different tapas-sized dishes, plus a to-die-for dessert in the form of a rice and almond pudding served with cherry sauce [with real cherries] and whipped cream. YUM.

The Yule Platter consists of the following Danish delicacies [keep in mind that all this is of the highest quality, made from scratch by The Virgin himself, and absolutely delectable]: Pickled herring in a mustard sauce, crab tart with lobster tail, some sort of pickled chicken salad concoction, hot smoked duck breast, reindeer pâté, roast pork with rind and caramelized potatoes with brown sauce, and finally a slice of creamy gorgonzola with grapes, all served with pumpernickel bread and sliced baguette. Followed by the aforementioned dessert. Oh, and it doesn’t hurt to start the evening off with a shot of Aalborg Aquavit, served in an iced glass.

EPI and I chanced upon this hidden Advent treasure about six years ago when we were doing some Christmas shopping downtown and ambled into The Virgin on the way home because we didn’t feel like cooking. We were immediately bowled over and made a vow there and then to do the Yule Platter thing every single year, come hell or high water [like last Friday]. Something which we have judiciously adhered to ever since, sometimes alone, sometimes with friends. And clearly we’re not the only devotees because Yule Platter at The Virgin has become more popular year-on-year, witnessed by the fact that when I phoned to make a reservation at the beginning of December for, oh, around the 20^th or so, we were told that there was not a hope in hell of getting a table for the remainder of the Advent, unless there happened to be a last-minute cancellation, which was highly unlikely. Unless there was a tempest, that is.

WE HAD A BRIEF RESPITE YESTERDAY AND THEN – ANOTHER STORM
It’s getting so that you can set your watch by it … one day a storm, another day calm, next day storm, next day calm, and so on. Weatherman sez it’s because there was a huge low-pressure area that was broken up somehow en route to us, resulting in this chequered kind of weather. Whatever, all I know is that I went out for a walk today and there was not a dry thread on my entire body within ten minutes of walking out the door. I came back looking like a drowned rat. Then, this evening, EPI and I went out for a long walk around the golf course in relatively calm and absolute pitch darkness. Scary. It was a new experience for Yours Truly, and I remarked to EPI on the way that there were probably not many places in the world where you could walk outside like that in a remote area with not a light around, and still feel safe as houses. We’re in for some calm until tomorrow night, when we have another storm coming. Tsk. Still, we’re not getting barraged with snow like the northern US. It’s mild, in fact: 6°C [43F] and sunrise was at 11.17, sunset at 15.29.

Stuffed at Argentina

Been suffering from Acute Cobweb Syndrome all day long on account of the copious amounts of red wine I drank last night while out enjoying a Christmas buffet courtesy of EPI's employer. Actually, 'copious amounts' is probably a bit misleading - the fact is that I normally suffer from cobweb syndrome the day after drinking anything in excess of a single glass of red wine. Sadly, red wine and YT do not mix well. I love it yet it doesn't love me. Sigh. Life's a bitch, and all that. Boo hoo.

Anyway, 'tis the season of the Christmas buffet, meaning every company worth its salt must invite its employees out to at least one. And such is the demand that parties are booked back-to-back at restaurants and in our case we had to arrive promptly at six pm and be out by nine. Fair enough.

This particular buffet was held at Iceland's Bastion of Beef, a restaurant called Argentina, which for about a decade now has been considered one of the classiest joints in town, not to mention one of the most expensive. Hence it was with some anticipation that our YT made her way there last night for the very first time, ready to partake of Argentina in all its glory.

Imagine my surprise, then, to find that the decor was much like a tired old steakhouse in any old suburb of any Western metropolis, all fake Tudor, plaster walls and exposed beams. And boy, was it a tight squeeze in there - the place is in no way designed for a Christmas buffet or parties of 20 or more. People were cramming into a tiny room off to the side to fill their plates, an undertaking which, note bene, was carefully orchestrated by the waitstaff and as such went off without any major disasters, but was still a bit unpleasant.

Be that as it may, the food was very good, although for a Christmas buffet there was only a limited selection of things to choose from - at least compared to some other places at which I've had the privilege of partaking. There was the ubiquitous gravlax and reindeer pate, both of which were excellent, and a pretty good roast beef that nonetheless was a bit tough [as all beef is in Iceland always - guess it must be the absence of tenderizer, which in turn makes it OK]. There was also an excellent Spanish potato salad, and a turkey terrine with wild mushrooms that was very tasty and unusual. Mind you, the whole thing was a bit heavy on the turkey ... probably because turkey is a bit of a fad in Iceland these days, or has been for the last, say, 3-4 years. Adopted from somewhere - probably America [ooh, now I'll get some hyper-sensitive American person in my comments accusing me of saying Iceland picks up all its bad habits from America] - and, like all fads to hit Iceland, it took off at a gallop and virtually everyone followed. Except for YT, because in my North American incarnation I ate enough turkey [and turkey leftovers] to last me until the end of my life and then some, so unlike most of my Icelandic brethren I really cannot get excited about turkey even if my life depended on it. But I digress.

Happily there were alternatives to turkey, like the filet of lamb served as a hot course [also a bit tough, but hey, who's complaining, not me] and then there was the dessert buffet which bizarrely served up chocolate cake [i.e. like a devil's food cake, not French chocolate] which to me seems like a totally ridiculous thing to offer people who have just stuffed themselves at an all-you-can-eat buffet. I mean, one slice is equivalent to a whole meal! Cleverly I sidestepped the cake and went straight for the homemade sorbet, the creme brulee and the chocolate cups with the mango filling [or whatever that was] and boy, those did not disappoint.

Final verdict: Argentina is not a comfortable place for a Christmas buffet, but the food is good, especially if you like turkey. 3.5 stars out of 5.

Afterwards a few of us headed back to a friend's apartment, where some more red wine was consumed and we yacked away until the wee hours of the morning, telling stories and chewing the fat. A very, very nice evening. Very nice.

THE WEATHER GETS FIVE STARS OUT OF FIVE
Because it has been sublime. Finally, a few days of proper winter! Today it was brilliantly sunny and cold, and there's snow on the ground, which is awesome. There was no wind, which just made it so delightful to be outside in the cool, crisp air. The only problem is that there are only about 4.5 hours of daylight in which to enjoy it - but then again, the sky has such a lovely pastel hue for such an extended period. It's all in the perception. Temps currently -5°C [23F] and sunrise was at 11.02 this morning, sunset at 3.36 pm.

The earth will shake, in two will break ...

Ehm, we hope that last bit doesn't materialize, but the fact is that the earth has been shaking a fair bit around here for the last couple of weeks. There's been activity on the so-called 'western volcanic belt' which extends from the Reykjanes peninsula [approximately where we are] to the north of Langjökull glacier. We haven't felt any tremors in the capital area but the good people of Selfoss have been shaking a lot, and yesterday there was a quake 4.4 on the Richter scale in the Hveravellir area.

Meanwhile, the Civil Protection Agency has sent out a warning that there may be further quakes, and some may occur in residential areas. Yowsa!

In other words, this might be a good time to nail that bookshelf to the wall, and review the What To Do If There Is an Earthquake pages in the phone book.

WEATHER!
Who cares about the weather these days - it's the dark we're concerned about. It gets light awwwfully late in the mornings now, and awwwfully early in the afternoons. And on days like today, when it is rainy and overcast, it just doesn't feel like a proper day. Some people have already started putting Christmas lights in their windows - even though the Advent doesn't start until next weekend, and that is the official start to the Christmas celebrations for us. And who can blame them? Anything to drive away the darkness. Went out a few minutes ago to drive AAH to work and there was this nasty damp cold - the kind that gets into your bones, with slushy rain coming down. Temps 1°C [34F], sunrise was at 10.33 and sunset at 3.57 pm.

Every title I come up with for this post is boring so I'll just call it National Language Day. Yawn.

As regular readers will know, the Nicelanders are exceptionally devoted to their language, Icelandic. In fact, many people consider the language to be the factor that defines Iceland as a nation. We are joined together by one language - a language that no other nation speaks.

It should come as no surprise, then, that there is an entire day every year devoted to the Icelandic language, and that day is today. It's called Dagur íslenskrar tungu - "Day of the Icelandic Language". This particular date was chosen because it is the birthday of one of Iceland's foremost poets, Jónas Hallgrímsson, with whom most people here seem to have a deep affinity and affection for, sort of like the Icelandic Shakespeare but without the cryptic language. And here we have another glaring exposure of YT's pseudo-Icelander status, because in contrast to most of my countrymen who have learned all about old Jónas in school, that's about as much as I know about him. Except that he died young, his death has been romanticized, some people are saying it wasn't very romantic, and today is the 200th anniversary of his birth. And this last part I only know because the media keeps banging on about it and there are festivals being held all over the country.

But anyway, as I was saying, Icelandic is very precious to the Icelanders, and I've documented the various efforts to preserve the language in this space before, including the Nicelanders' obsessive need to make up Icelandic words for all manner of foreign objects and concepts, rather than just calling a computer, say, komputer. And true to form, today Morgunblaðið had a little blurb in which they're calling for translations of some common English words and phrases that have stubbornly worked their way into Icelandic and which nobody seems to have come up with a good, solid, Icelandicism for. These words and phrases [some of which have been bastardized to fit into the sentence structure] are:

shortcut
takeaway
brunch
to blog [að blogga]
to google [að gúggla]
iPod
to date [someone - að deita]
wannabe
grandparents [this is the only one I take exception to, I just don't see what's wrong with using afi og amma]
outlet
gig [gigg]

Okay then! Anyone with suggestions for good and proper Nicelandic translations may send them to menning@mbl.is or leave them in the comments, whichever is easier. Although if you do choose the second option, I can't guarantee they will make it into the next official Icelandic dictionary.

MILD WEATHER TODAY, OVERCAST WITH DRIZZLE
Yep, that about sums it up. Currently 3°C [39F], sunrise was at 9.58 am [yow!] and sunset at 4.25 pm.

YT the one-woman tourist board

Got an email from a reader in Athens, Greece, who is planning to visit our fair isle over Christmas and New Year’s and who presented our YT with a set of questions related to his upcoming trip. Seeing as how the information might be useful to the myriad other punters who are planning on doing the same [if the google searches I’m getting are anything to go by, there are many] I thought I’d post both the questions and the answers here. Doing my bit for king and country, as it were.

What would you suggest as something traditional to do over New Years Holiday?

~ Go out on New Year’s Eve and mix with the locals at the brennur – the big bonfires generally held down by the seashore. [In Reykjavík the one on Ægissíða is the best, in my opinion.] Then at midnight go up to Skólavörðuholt, in front of Hallgrímskirkja church, and observe the mayhem as Reykjavík residents shoot up fireworks worth the GDP of a small African nation within the space of half an hour. TIP: you may want to bring earplugs.

What are the possibilities of seeing the northern lights? (we are renting a vehicle so we have the opportunity to leave the city during the nights).

~ Hit and miss. If you’re lucky it will be cold and clear, the conditions needed for the northern lights to appear. Driving out of the city also increases the chances, what with light pollution and everything.

What would you consider to be the best public pool/water slides for families?

~ 1. Árbæjarlaug, 2. Laugardalslaug.

Best Traditional Icelandic food (I am a big fan of Seafood)?

~ At Christmas? Smoked lamb [hangikjöt], ptarmigan [rjúpa] if you can get it [you probably can’t], reindeer pâté, leaf bread [laufabrauð], smoked puffin. All those will be present at any Christmas buffet in the city [except maybe the ptarmigan], which are hugely popular around that time. If traditional Christmas isn’t de rigueur, then you can’t go wrong with seafood and lamb. Even the most basic restaurant will do good seafood [except, maybe, Icelandic Fish and Chips, as I found out to my dismay] and I can recommend Við Tjörnina [no I’m not getting a kickback – if only!] for great fish dishes.

Okay then! If anyone else has any questions, do send them in, we aim to please.

STILL FREEZING COLD, UNTIL TOMORROW
The last few days have been miserable, what with the freezing temps and particularly the strong wind from the north that gets in through every nook and cranny and just makes you feel so cold. BUT we’re in for southeasterly winds tomorrow and rain for the next few days, much to the chagrin of another reader – from the UK – who emailed yesterday to ask if the weather forecast he’d seen somewhere with temps of 7-12°C was really true. And I was forced to tell him that Iceland is, in fact, the most misnamed country on the planet, save for Greenland which obviously is in a league of its own. Temps crawling upwards, currently 4°C [39F] and sunrise was at 8:23 am, sunset due for 6:02 pm.

Have a heart

I just got back from reading Rozanne’s most recent entry, in which she has a minor coronary [sorry Rozanne!] upon discovering that she’s just unwittingly eaten pork heart as a key ingredient in a sausage.

Whereas my first reaction to her anecdote was: Mmmm, heart!

Yep – here in Niceland we eat lamb hearts without thinking twice about it. In fact, the hearts are considered choice cuts – they’re all muscle, lean, and happen to be very tasty. Lamb liver is also popular chez YT – even AAH, who is a notoriously fickle eater, has loved it since she was very small.

I suppose what it boils down to is the Icelandic tradition of utilizing every part of the animal. Back in the dark ages [a.k.a. early last century] when Iceland was the poorest country in Europe, the majority of the population didn’t have a choice. Everything was eaten – the innards, the flesh, the blood, the head – and, of course, the wool and skin of the Icelandic sheep kept this nation alive. People ate horses too.

Today I wouldn’t say the innards of the sheep are everyday fare, but most of us don’t have any qualms about eating them. Blood sausage [slátur], made from the blood of the sheep and sewn up in the stomach before being boiled, is something families get together to make, as a tradition. It’s been a while since I’ve eaten slátur, but just the other day we were talking about it and EPI was saying how he’d like to have it for dinner one night – bought cold, we slice it up, fry it on a pan, and dust it with a bit of sugar before eating. When I was little, liver and hearts were cooked regularly for dinner – these days they’ve become somewhat of a novelty and are cooked more as a nostalgic throwback than an everyday meal. Svið – sheeps’ heads that are singed to burn the hairs off and then boiled – were standard fare in my parents’ day, and are still readily available – you can even buy them in many stores cooked and ready to take home, similar to a grilled chicken [this tends to gross out the tourists bigtime]. However, most people eat them as a compressed jelly – i.e. with pieces of meat in a salty broth that has been mixed with gelatin to bind it gogether. Very tasty – really.

Mokay then! I guess I can leave the pickled whale blubber and putrid shark for another post [or maybe I’ve elaborated sufficiently on those already in earlier dispatches]. Besides, I’m starting to get hungry and find myself wishing I’d picked up some sviðasulta [sheeps’ head jelly] at the store today.

BEAUTIFUL, CALM WEATHER TODAY
So gorgeous this morning, sunny and calm with that iridescent late-summer light – I wanted most of all to go berry picking, but alas, duty called. Clouded over this afternoon but it was still mild and calm, so in other words, lovely. Right now 13°C [55F] and sunrise was at 5:33 am, sunset at 9:27 pm.

PS – When did ‘heart’ start being used as a verb? I see it all over the place – ‘I heart this’ or ‘I heart that’ … this is totally new to me.

In which YT's prejudices are exposed and revised

Just got back from the couch where I watched tonight’s big Kaupthing concert on the tee-vee because I’m a lazy ass and couldn’t be bothered to take the ten minute car ride over to Laugardalur to watch it live.

I won't be able to find no parkin’, is what I told myself.

Actually, that’s not the truth. The truth is that I thought it would be crap, and that’s because I have preconceived notions about a big multinational corporation that moreover is A BANK sponsoring some of Niceland’s biggest bands and/or performers to play at their birthday concert. And also because I thought it was kind of lame that, because Iceland’s other two major commercial banks are each sponsoring an event tomorrow [Glitnir the Reykjavík Marathon; Landsbanki another big outdoor concert tomorrow night on Klambratún], just as they did last year, Kaupthing was just jonesing to get in on the action so they slapped together a concert at the last minute on the night before the Big Day [because of course tomorrow is Reykjavík Culture Night a.k.a. The Biggest Party of theYear*] and, well, with all things considered, it was bound to be awful.

Yes, ladies and gents, I am a cynic, and jaded to boot. And therefore it serves me right that I was proven totally wrong – the concert, despite its dodgy premise, kicked ass. Bubbi ruled, Mugison showed yet again what a supreme talent he is, and even old Todmobile took the place by storm. Sure, there were some acts that left something to be desired – I’ll mention no names, except to say that the last act fell totally fell flat and there was that certain girl group with a synthetic name [clue] that set a new standard in karaoke clichés.

But enough about all that. Tomorrow is TBPOTY and already the programme is so overwhelming that I get panic attacks just looking at it. Culture night started as a minor affair about ten years ago and was limited to – as the name suggests – Saturday night. I can’t remember what went on back then, but it was probably a concert or two and maybe a busker playing on Lækjartorg square. Well, as we all know there is nothing Nicelanders love more than a party, so since that time Culture Night has morphed into this day-long affair [that this year actually started tonight with the above-mentioned concert – a sign of things to come?] with things happening all over the city, from crazy ideas realized in the most humble gallery or storefront, to the huge fireworks display on board a ship anchored offshore at 11 pm. Everyone gets in on the action and the key to surviving Culture Night is picking an event or two that looks intriguing, and just going there. Never mind if you get sidetracked along the way [which is inevitable].

This year I’m quite partial to the waffle-baking event [the residents in the Þingholt area downtown are baking waffles for anyone who wants to come by] and also the whisper game that I’m sure has an actual name … you know, when you start on one end and whisper a word and it travels the whole line to the other end, and you see what word comes out. This year these two people [a brother and sister] have decided they want to set a Guinness record for the number of participants, so they’re recruiting over 1,000 people to turn up and join the chain of whispers. Sounds fun, no?

Anyway, there’s every danger that I’ll be reporting on the day’s escapades in this space at a later time, so be forewarned. The weather is supposed to be OK – cloudy but calm and no rain, thank goodness – which is lucky because we’re set for a downpour on Sunday. Today was great – a bit of a chill in the air but fresh and relatively calm. EPI and I went downtown and I was surprised by the numbers of tourists that have suddenly infiltrated the city – possibly because of tomorrow’s event, possibly because of school hols in Europe. Right now 7°C [45F] and sunrise was at 5:24 am, sunset at 9:38 pm.

* Next to wildan’crazy New Year’s Eve, of course

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.

Trailers: the new foot massagers

Icelanders are notorious for their indiscriminate love of new gadgetry. One of the running jokes of this society is the electric foot massager debacle that happened one Christmas when there was a massive sale in electric foot massagers because it happened to be the indispensable household item of the day. A decade later, practically every other home in Iceland had an unused foot massager buried somewhere in the nether regions of their storage rooms.

The proverbial foot massager has appeared in some way, shape or form for decades. The fact is that Icelanders are incredibly impressionable – a bit like crows, they swoop down en masse on anything new and shiny. And over the years, as this nation has acquired more wealth, the ‘new and shiny’ has become ‘new and shiny and increasingly expensive’. When I was a teenager, I remember ten-speed bikes being the thing; the next year it was VCRs. Today it’s ever-larger SUVs and – the de rigueur gadget of the day – camper trailers.

Being hopelessly lame when it comes to chasing trends, EPI and didn’t know what had hit us last week when practically every other vehicle we met on our travels was pulling a trailer. I’m not exaggerating. We stopped at the campsite in Tálknafjörður and – lo and behold – there was hardly a single tent to be seen. It was all SUVs and trailers. We just looked at each other in amazement ... the last time we were there, three years ago, there were tents everywhere. And now – not one.

On returning home, a brief report in one of the papers confirmed what we already knew: trailers are the new foot massagers and they’re selling like hotcakes. The report also quoted a campsite employee in Borgarnes [west Iceland] who said that, “the only people who pitch tents any more are teenagers and tourists.” Mmm. Quite. I must say I was very pleased to see that my favourite cartoonist, as ever, has his finger on the pulse, for a couple of days later, this appeared in Blaðið:

I rest my case.

OUR VERSLUNARMANNAHELGI WEATHER IS…
G’head, I dare you to say the above word out loud. What it means, of course, is that our annual ‘Labour Day’ weekend is upon us, and half the people residing in the capital are out of town in their camper trailers getting loaded at some outdoor festival or other. Meanwhile, this is the time of year when YT and her clan love staying at home, because you feel like you have the city all to yourself. [That said, there was an annoying number of shoppers in the Kringlan Mall today]. Unfortunately the weather isn’t being entirely cooperative – there’s a nasty wind blowing that is awfully cold and makes me feel like fall is already upon us. The Icelandic summer: blink and you’ll miss it. Temps right now are a blustery 9°C [48F plus windchill] and sunrise was at 4:43 am, sunset at 10:22 pm.

Just when I was ready to segue into a life of leisure

This is the time of year when everything grinds to a halt in Niceland - from the end of June to the beginning of August. Standard holidays here are 24 days per year - nearly five weeks - and the vast majority of people make the greatest use of that in the summer. This means a marked lull in the translating/copyediting business, which in turn means that our YT has the luxury of doing things like sleeping in, dicking around on the computer all day, and catching up on long-overdue fun-filled projects like cleaning out the pantry [read: the room off our kitchen in which we stuff everything that has no fixed place in the universe].

[whinge begins]

BUT lest you think being a Nicelandic translator/copyeditor in the height of summer is all fun and games, think again! Take for instance the telephone call our YT got from DV, Iceland's most notorious tabloid rag [actually, come to think of it, I don't know if it's tabloid now - it keeps changing hands - one minute it's tabloid, the next minute it's not, who can keep track?] a couple of days ago.

DV JOURNALIST: Hello, is this Alda Kalda the translator?
YT: Why, yes!
DVJ: This is sowanso, jounalist at DV, do you have time for a short interview?
YT: [...?]
DVJ: It's about that book you translated, that's just been published.
YT: [...?]
DVJ: Yes the one about [x].
YT: Oh! Hahaha - the one that was published ten years ago.
DVJ: No, the one that was just published now.
YT: No, ten years ago.
DVJ: No, now.

So it turns out that this book I translated ten years ago - and own the copyright on - has just been republished and nobody told me. How delightful.

So YT gets on the blower to the writers' union. There it transpires that this is indeed an infringement of copyright laws, pending certain conditions. Question is, whether the certain conditions are in place.

YT gets on the blower to the publisher. Gets a new editor, never before encountered.

NEW EDITOR: Oh my. Oh. I never thought. Just that it was all done in such a big rush and everything. Must look into it. Check whether certain conditions are in place. Apologies, regrets, etc. Give me your email, I'll send you mine.

Sigh.

I'm happy to give them the benefit of the doubt, but previous [and bitter] experience has taught me that publishers in this country are not to be trusted when it comes to the rights of translators. Consequently I'm extremely reluctant to work for publishers ... not only is the standard rate for translations pitifully low, but annoying things like this are almost to be expected. Corporate work may not be as fulfilling - but at least it's straightforward and trouble-free.

[/whinge ends]

ANYWAY, WHILE I SIT INSIDE GRUMBLING, THE SUN BECKONS OUTSIDE...
And heading for the swimming pool has suddenly become an exceedingly attractive idea. It's been an excellent June, they say, although the past couple of days were a bit too much on the windy side, with temps a bit lower than we're used to at this time of year. Sort of like the summers used to be here before the onset of global warming. Ah, nostalgia! Current temps 12°C [52F] and sunrise was at 3 am, sunset due for 12.01 am tomorrow [the day getting shorter, argh!].

Midsummer night magic

So, EPI and I went out to Grótta last night at to see if we'd find any magic stones. It was midsummer night and according to Icelandic folklore, magic stones abound on that night - if you find one, you can make a wish, and your wish will come true.

Alas, we found none. Neither did we see any people rolling around nekkid in the dew [supposed to heal whatever ails you], nor any seals stripping off their skins [they were believed to be humans in disguise and to only be able to shed their skins on that night], nor cows talking.

We did get a picture of the sky, though, taken at 1.15 am...


That's what it looks like in midsummer. The sun had actually set about an hour earlier, but being so far north, it only dips just below the horizon, before it starts to rise again. About an hour and a half after that picture was taken, we would have had brilliant sunshine again, only I wasn't there to witness it because by then I was sleeping on my green ear*. With a sleep mask on, because in contrast to most Nicelanders I'm a total wuss when it comes to sleeping in the light.**

The weather has been gorgeous these past few days, particularly yesterday when there was barely a cloud visible in the sky. Today was slightly more overcast but with occasional sunny spells and just the slightest breeze, with highs around 15°C. Right now 12°C [52F] with sunrise at 2.57 am and sunset at 12.03 am.

* Nicelandic idiom, as most of you will already know.
** As opposed to EPI, for instance, who rarely even draws the curtains in the summer, and who will happily go to sleep with full lights on, if I'm reading or something.