10:30am and the sun still isn't up

This is a very rare occasion in which the title of my post is not some clever summary of its content...I'm sorry to disappoint, I just had to reflect on Iceland's endearing geographical anomaly. The sun setting early isn't so strange, as Saratoga often rids of the sun by 4-ish, but waking up at 9am in the darkness of midnight is a strange experience. Also, I'm sure many of you know that "Conquer the day" feeling you get when you manage to wake up and be an active member of society before 7am...the dim late morning makes me feel significantly more productive and proactive than I actually am...curses, false sense of improvement!

Evan and I were given a whole apartment for our stay, due to an extremely big-hearted family-friend of Caitlin and Maik. An unexpected generosity, Evan and I set out to stock our temporary kitchen with all the proper necessities (jk, here's a picture of a sheep's head in the corner store down the street):



Icelandic stereotypes aside (for now), we explored the snowy, blustery streets of Reykjavík and found shelter in a Never-Ending Story-style used book store





This is actually the same used book store that Bobby Fischer used to frequent during his exile in Iceland. To be honest with you, I'm not really sure whether his life is common knowledge or not. I had no idea that he peaced out to Iceland and that the Icelandic government granted him full citizenship for "humanitarian reasons," but everyone here seems to know a whole lot about it so I'm going to leave you all with an underwhelming summary of his Icelandic history (see above) and a convenient link to his wikipedia page: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bobby_Fischer

i have completed a puzzle of a heathen grave

Evan and I meandered around Reykjavík, down to a small lake beyond Alþingi, the Icelandic Parliament. The whole lake was frozen over and, despite its beauty, a lot of the trash in the lake rose to the surface, forever(ish) imprinting itself in the ice. Nonetheless, it was pretty and I have a picture to prove it. So there.



Our presence alerted the locals, and they quickly came over to investigate



But upon reviewing our breadlessness they were no longer amused and moved on



Here's a thing! (A small frozen pond with stairs leading somewhere. Description=eloquent, no?)



We went through the Icelandic National History Museum. Or the National Museum of Iceland? Iceland's Museum of Nationality? National Museum of History in Iceland...? This: Þjóðminjasafn Íslands. It was very interesting, and we learned lots. For instance, did you know Iceland did not have buttons for clothing until 1984?? That's only sort of true.

Here's Evan as an intimidating, plundering, no-regrets viking:



Here's Julia as a viking whose head is too small:



Did you know Icelanders wear hats sometimes? They also sometimes do not wear hats.





I'm not sure if this is a "Truth or Dare"/"Never have I ever..." kind of question, but I can confidently say that as of two days ago I have! Did you know Icelanders refer to themselves as heathens? They don't, except this time I guess.

Did you know that Iceland invented the beard? They didn't. But for some reason this was a big exhibit.



This is the single barber's chair that every Icelander uses. They only get one haircut/shave every two years, so it's kind of a big deal.



That's not true either.
I apologize, this post wasn't very informative...but now I must go make skyrkaka, a cheesecake-type dish made with Skyr!:






By the way, that's Skyrgámur (Skyr-Gobbler), an Icelandic Yule Lad who has a special affinity for skyr. Instead of Santa Claus they have 13 [terrifying] yule lads that range from "mere pranskters to homicidal monsters who eat children" (Quoteth Wikipedia). They come one by one down the mountain (I don't believe there's any particular mountain, just THE mountain) around Christmas time and hang out until January. Ketkrókur (Meat Hook) arrived today. He steals meat. With a hook. ...Iceland.

...And then I came back

So I'm here, doing that whole "Iceland" thing again. I realize I never truly followed up on my Reykjavík post, but I'm sure most of you (Hi, Mom!) have heard me blather on about the entire trip at this point so let's pretend that lapse in blogging never happened!

Evan and I got into Reykjavík Sunday morning, and by Sunday afternoon we were off with Þórður and Caitlin to þórður's summer house. I'm not entirely sure where it was, but you could see the volcano Hekla from the hot pot...so I have supplied you with a very scientific map to give you an idea of where we were:



So, yes, we were a little bit north of that lil green bull romping through the water and a smidge west of what can only be described as an inescapable fiery doom.

We spent most of the night sitting in the hot pot and desperately searching for the Northern Lights (sadly they did not make an appearance). Our hair froze in the cold wind, and the icy steps to the tub made for a treacherous adventure, but it was absolutely worth it in every way.

Technology

Been in a technological black hole for a bit...haven't been able to communicate for a few days now, and just got internet access for the first time in awhile. After a long road trip down from the Westfjords (including a ferry ride) I am now in Reykjavik. Hopefully the photographs chronicling this great adventure will be up in the next day or so...

Until then!

The Wild West

The Westfjords is an entirely unique place, unlike the most of Iceland. Far from any metropolis, the Westfjords developed at a significantly slower rate than its surrounding country, and therefore still relied on the land for any sort of survival. Many roads in the Westfjords weren't paved until 2009, and even so a majority of the roads are still dirt. The town of Ísafjörður is about 20 minutes away from where we're staying (a hostel called Holt), and to get into the town you have to drive down a looong tunnel through one of the mountains. If you're leaving the town, and trying to get back to Holt, you may be surprised when you realize the tunnel is one-way. Those leaving Ísafjörður must yield to the oncoming traffic, and pull over in a brake-down lane if a car is coming. Going into Ísafjörður: 15 minutes. Leaving Ísafjörður: 30 minutes.

The Westfjords are also in a rather unique predicament. After the technological boom hit Iceland, the population suddenly had a new expectation for their standard of living and many people abandoned their farms and moved to Reykjavik. Maintaining any sort of income in the Westfjords became harder and harder as the already meager population steadily declined. Towns that once had 200-300 people are now down to 15-30 people. Entire farmhouses are abandoned with their possessions still inside the building. People just packed up and left, and the Westfjords are quickly becoming a deserted landscape.

An upside of this bizarre exodus is that the land remains (more or less) unspoiled. You can go miles without seeing a sign of human life. After class one day our group went to a farm near Holt that got its energy from a micro-hydropower plant on their property. This farmer (maybe around 30 years old?) built his hydro-plant on his own with found materials and leftover pieces of hardware. Really, an amazing example of resourcefulness. Also the farm was gorgeous (surprising, right?).






This cow's tuft of hair reminds me of Conan O'Brien.


During a 10pm sunset some of us went on a little walk around our hostel.


This is the church and farmhouse down the road from us.


Some nosy neighbors kept an eye on us as we passed their turf.


Our hostel is the one with the radio tower.


There was a small beach down the road but it was heavily inhabited by birds...and the birds weren't too happy with us stomping around their nesting grounds...


...so they would circle over our heads and dive-bomb us if we got too close. Lots of kids have tried going for a run past our hostel and have had to come back early because of the aerial attacks.


We also went to a small power plant near our university. I couldn't hear the manager very well, so I don't really know any details...but compared to the other plants we've seen this was by far the least modern. Where other plants had white walls and glass, this plant had shelves of mechanical parts and exciting flashy buttons.








Most of our days at the university are spent staring at a computer and researching for our independent projects...so coffee breaks are a must (and frankly we've gotten too used to coffee breaks every 45 minutes at this point).

A friendly game of cribbage to pass the time.


Next to the break room is a balcony, which leads downstairs to a badminton/volleyball court! Why not.


Ísafjörður doesn't recycle...for some bizarre reason that we don't fully understand...But they do separate their waste into Burnable (which includes plastic, oddly enough) and Non-Burnable. We got to visit the town incinerator and see what they were all about.


We spent maybe 30 minutes just standing and watching the claw lift bundles of trash towards their fiery doom (Toy Story 3 flashbacks aplenty).




This heartbreaker was hanging in the control room of the incinerator. I guess he founded the original landfill in Ísafjörður...I wish I had gotten a better picture of him, but needless to say he's pretty ridiculous looking.


Yay trash-burning!

Onwards to Glory

Apparently 3 weeks had passed because, next thing we knew, we were back on the bus and headed for Isafjordur (10-ish hours away). To give you some sense of location...Akureyri is where the arrow is pointing...and the shining sun is right over Isafjordur. All the fjords along Iceland's coast mean lots of loop-de-loop roads...up and down the fingers of the Westfjords.


We got to our first stop where some friendly hill-folk greeted us. Greg attempted to sit on their shoulders...with limited success...




When we got back on the bus at a different rest stop, I returned to find my seat occupied by this little goober. So, I moved over and me and another girl, Rosie, had Felix-duty for the rest of the drive (which is hardly a chore...what a cutie).


Yeah! Milk!



The road to Isafjordur is unlike anything I've ever experienced. A majority of the drive is along dirt roads that roll up and down the hills without much consideration for physics. At one point the fog was so thick that we couldn't even see the road below us from the windows. Everyone else on the bus was asleep (anomaly: I didn't sleep the whole drive), and the silence mixed with the eerie blanket of white made for a scene worthy of a Hitchcock film. (Mad props to our fearless driver)


Felix was pretty stoked when we did his hair, and he let me take lots of pictures of his new 'do.


However this boy was not meant to be in front of the camera...And he quickly made this known.


The boy has a good eye! Very abstract, very profound.




Here's Brenda, scaring the bejeezes out of me and Sophie when we turned around.


We made it to our hostel in Isafjordur, and quickly made ourselves comfortable. Greg found some new specs in the living room. They really go well with his eyes.


I'm living on the first floor with another student, our Director, her husband and son, and our assistant director. This morning I was sitting in bed with my door open and this toy just rolled past my doorframe and stopped. Ghost, obviously.


We are more in the middle of nowhere here than we have ever been previously. We're cradled in a valley by mountains, glaciers, and meadows. The back of the hostel has an awesome playground...so we put aside our project proposals for some quality seesawing.










The hostel itself is an old church house (where the preacher lived? something like that...) and the farm its on is down the street.


Here's our home for the next 2 weeks!