Well, I know I haven't updated in a while, so forgive me. I've been pretty busy.
Things have indeed gotten better; I haven't really done anything spectacularly exciting since that road trip to the South. I've mostly been doing the same things one would do anywhere else. To be honest, Reykjavik isn't terribly exciting. It's quaint, and it's wet, but all the neighborhoods are more or less identical. They all look the same, they all have a fishmonger, a butcher and a bakery, maybe a chain restaurant or two and a pizza place. It's like New England but without all the charm. I don't think there's a single building older than 1960 with maybe the exception of three government type places.
I have met some good people, though. Went to an Indian food party the other night, and watched Slumdog Millionaire, which I would strongly recommend to anyone.
We had one gathering the other night, Friday, that was pretty much an intro to Thorrablot, which is a month long festival of eating bizarre things. We had cod roe, steamed, and then cod liver stuffed inside of a cod stomach, and then tintasomething, which is a fish that has the skin of an eel and white flesh that is very chewy.
Ordinarily these are all things that I would like but to be honest, again, Icelandic food isn't that great and Icelanders don't really seem to know how to cook. I was going to go out to a nice fancy place, but I think I would have been disappointed. I haven't had a single meal that wasn't overcooked, underseasoned or both. I don't think they've even heard of salt here. They've got great ingredients but have no idea how to use them.
For example, the blood sausage has no flavor at all. How do you manage to make something out of the nasty bits of mutton, mutton blood, and a mysterious grain and still manage to have it be bland? I didn't even bother with Indian or Thai food because I figured it'd be sweet and lacking in spices.
Speaking of Asian food, for my last day in Iceland I went out for sushi yesterday.
I'll start by saying the fish was very fresh and the rice well prepared. I'll end by saying that the tataki wasn't a tataki---it was just sashimi, and the sweet shrimp, rather than being raw shrimp, was a cooked prawn with jam on it. They took that one rather literally. The service was friendly as could be, though.
For my last meal in Iceland I am going to eat at the BSI, which is the bus station, but also apparently the best place to get traditional Icelandic dishes. I'll report back later.
I will certainly be glad to go back to the US today, even if it does mean getting on a plane.
In summary, this was a really expensive way for me to figure out that I like staying at home, and I should have done exactly that. I suppose I'll give Iceland another try someday, but it'll definitely be in any season other than winter.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Days 8 and 9, January 13-14
Sorry for the lack of update yesterday, but I was in a snowstorm in a guesthouse in the town of Vik i Myrdal. We took a roadtrip out the same way I'd been before, but went farther this time, out to Jokullsarlon, a glacial lake in Southeast Iceland. I now have some pictures worth posting. This was a good trip. I promise I'll write more later, but I'm dead tired right now. At least this time it was snow all the way instead of rain. It's a lot more picturesque.
More later.
More later.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Day 7, I dunno what damned day it is, the sun never comes up.
Just kidding, the sun was out all four hours of daylight today and it was lovely. Walked all around Reykjavik and up to Hallgrimskirkja, the big Lutheran Church, which is nice-ish but definitely Lutheran. It's nothing much, really. Trinity Episcopal in Asheville was nicer, and First Presbyterian in Greensboro even makes it look like a poo. The organ was nice, though; I'd like to hear that. But, the interior was about as interesting as a courthouse. The vaulted ceilings were great, the unadorned concrete was not, and there wasn't a lick of stained glass anywhere to be found. And the carpet was worn thin. If this is how Icelanders take care of the biggest damn church in Iceland, then something something blah blah metaphor.
Aside from that I wandered aimlessly around Reykjavik, got ignored by another shopkeeper in the Ostabudhinn (Cheese Shop), and went to 12 Tonar, which is probably the coolest thing I've found here yet. It's a great record store with their own label that allows you to sit and listen to whatever you want, and they even make you coffee if you so desire. The staff there is friendly (for Icelanders) and very helpful with suggestions.
After that I took a bus out to the middle of nowhere again because I missed my stop, but it was good because I could see the mountains better, and I went to a bakery and got some weird Icelandic pastries and the first piece of passable carrot cake I've had here yet. (This is attempt number three.)
So in other words, I'm pretty much doing the same damn things I do in Greensboro. Listening to music, being irritated by Protestants, and eating cake.
Now for some more thoughts on Icelandic manners. Some people might dismiss the rudeness as being cultural. I do not concur.
"Cultural" is:
folk dances
national costumes
odd animal parts as comestibles
squeaky fiddle music
historical reenactments
whaling
that sort of thing.
"Cultural" is not:
being a dick to anyone different from you. That's called xenophobia.
And, as I've previously stated, all of your contemporary culture is stolen from us. Your 101 Reykjavik bullshit is just a snottier verision of Athens, GA, Asheville, NC, or Portland, OR, (assraped by the bacchanalian excess of the French Quarter during Mardi Gras) only less authentic because you don't have to look for indie music. Your commercial stations play it for you, which means you don't even have to put any effort into finding out about it. Oh, and we've been paying too much for secondhand clothes far longer than you have so don't act like it makes you special. There's nothing Icelandic about you, except your accursed language. Just go ahead and move to Williamsburg, Brooklyn so you can keep company with another bunch of self-referential assholes who think they're the be-all and end-all of just about damn near everything. You can live in tiny apartments there too.
Aside from that I wandered aimlessly around Reykjavik, got ignored by another shopkeeper in the Ostabudhinn (Cheese Shop), and went to 12 Tonar, which is probably the coolest thing I've found here yet. It's a great record store with their own label that allows you to sit and listen to whatever you want, and they even make you coffee if you so desire. The staff there is friendly (for Icelanders) and very helpful with suggestions.
After that I took a bus out to the middle of nowhere again because I missed my stop, but it was good because I could see the mountains better, and I went to a bakery and got some weird Icelandic pastries and the first piece of passable carrot cake I've had here yet. (This is attempt number three.)
So in other words, I'm pretty much doing the same damn things I do in Greensboro. Listening to music, being irritated by Protestants, and eating cake.
Now for some more thoughts on Icelandic manners. Some people might dismiss the rudeness as being cultural. I do not concur.
"Cultural" is:
folk dances
national costumes
odd animal parts as comestibles
squeaky fiddle music
historical reenactments
whaling
that sort of thing.
"Cultural" is not:
being a dick to anyone different from you. That's called xenophobia.
And, as I've previously stated, all of your contemporary culture is stolen from us. Your 101 Reykjavik bullshit is just a snottier verision of Athens, GA, Asheville, NC, or Portland, OR, (assraped by the bacchanalian excess of the French Quarter during Mardi Gras) only less authentic because you don't have to look for indie music. Your commercial stations play it for you, which means you don't even have to put any effort into finding out about it. Oh, and we've been paying too much for secondhand clothes far longer than you have so don't act like it makes you special. There's nothing Icelandic about you, except your accursed language. Just go ahead and move to Williamsburg, Brooklyn so you can keep company with another bunch of self-referential assholes who think they're the be-all and end-all of just about damn near everything. You can live in tiny apartments there too.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
insomnia
You know what? None of you would last 45 minutes in Greensboro, NC, never mind a real city. You rip off our fashions, our music, and our culture (that's right, you all look American as fuck) and then have the nerve to talk shit and be rude to our faces?
Hm.
Day 6, January 11th
I spent most of today avoiding activity as well. Sometimes you just need to recharge. Sometimes you just need a day of no dirty looks from Icelanders.
Which I didn't get. Some bitch in a restaurant stared at me and then started bitching loudly about foreigners. I can understand a good bit of Icelandic, particularly when it's invective. Sometimes a motherfucker just wants to eat his damned fish and chips and read a book without having to answer for his country's government.
Maybe I wouldn't be so annoyed if I were not from a place where we treat foreigners very well. In the South, even racists are nice to foreigners. Here, we appear to be barely tolerated because we pay for things.
Maybe I'm imagining it, but I don't think so. I haven't been an asshole to anyone, and I always apologize for my ignorance. Eh. Whatever.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Day 4, January 9
Ho-ly crap.
Iceland is great.
Today started off with the usual miserable weather, except then, lo and behold, it started snowing. For three minutes. And then the skies opened up and it was a beautiful sunny day in Reykjavik. There are mountains all around this city. I had no idea until the rain finally fucked off for a few minutes to let me see them. Nothing was dripping on my head, or anywhere else. So, I hopped on the bus and took a long bus ride to Vellir, which is apparently some rocky wilderness that the Icelanders are vigorously building condos on. Think lava rocks covered in the ubiquitous vomitous green moss (it's actually quite lovely really) and homes in the Danish modern style. If the Danes were to build concentration camps. That's one thing you won't hear me praise about Reykjavik. The architecture. It's uniform, predictable, and no-frills.
So, after my bus ride I went home and showered and then caught up with a guy from CouchSurfing named Dagur who was having a birthday party at his/his mother's house. He, Robert and I went to get groceries and prepare a little food for the gathering. Icelanders began pouring in after not too long, and the drunkenness begins. I did finally meet some Icelanders who suck at English, but everyone made an effort anyway, and were as friendly as can be. People must have asked every five minutes if I needed a drink, if I were enjoying myself, if I liked Iceland, all sorts of things. The guy who spoke to me the most was one of the worst at English, and that really meant quite a bit to me. Dagur and all of his friends are just awesome, the best people I've met so far in Iceland here.
(It kills me how smart Icelanders are, by the way.)
After that, Robert, Thorsteinn, Fridrik(?) and I went down to 101 Reykjavik (that's the post code for the center of town) for a show, a band called Sudden Weather Change. These incredibly competent young guys put on a great show. Cups were thrown, drums were kicked over, guitars were played using the ceiling, drums were played with guitars, and Robert hopped his happy ass right up on stage and sang along with the band. His steamy glasses and boylike appearance made it all the better. The look on his face was as blissful as I'd be if, say, Joanna Newsom called and asked me to come play harpsichord on her next tour. As far as the crowd goes, I haven't seen people that excited about a local band, well, ever. Jumping, screaming, moshing, Nordic elbows in my face, and they knew all the lyrics to every song.
After that we went around to a few bars. I won't belabor any points with details, but Reykjavik is fucking nuts. These people party like the world is going to end every fucking weekend of the year. All these stunningly beautiful Vikings completely fucked out of their minds dancing to American songs from the 80s and 90s, again knowing every word. These people are amazing. There's no room to move in most of these places, so you get around by shoving, hard. You have to push and shove to get anywhere. No one gets angry about it, it's not rude, it's just what you do. And when there's 5 people over 6 feet tall trying to push past you at once, you find somewhere else to stand real quick.
One of the things I love about Reykjavik is that these people are unspoiled. They know no sin, they know no wrong. There's no real crime here. There's hardly any drug problem at all. They're so sure that nothing bad can happen to them, really, and it's true; nothing really bad does happen here. They have to follow our news to get any of the truly awful shit.
101 Reykjavik. I see what they're talking about now. I'm not even social usually, but I joined right in, screaming, spilling beer on my own shoulders, pushing, shoving, dancing, moshing and otherwise trying to hold back the darkness.
Additionally, it's good there's only 300,000 Icelanders and that half of them are wasted all weekend long. These people could take over the entire world if they needed to. They're beautiful, brilliant, and they do everything better; dressing, eating, talking, driving, manufacturing surviving. They drink more, smoke more, eat more, everything is extremes here.
I must again reiterate how great everone I met today was. Iceland doesn't suck after all. I knew it couldn't possibly.
Iceland is great.
Today started off with the usual miserable weather, except then, lo and behold, it started snowing. For three minutes. And then the skies opened up and it was a beautiful sunny day in Reykjavik. There are mountains all around this city. I had no idea until the rain finally fucked off for a few minutes to let me see them. Nothing was dripping on my head, or anywhere else. So, I hopped on the bus and took a long bus ride to Vellir, which is apparently some rocky wilderness that the Icelanders are vigorously building condos on. Think lava rocks covered in the ubiquitous vomitous green moss (it's actually quite lovely really) and homes in the Danish modern style. If the Danes were to build concentration camps. That's one thing you won't hear me praise about Reykjavik. The architecture. It's uniform, predictable, and no-frills.
So, after my bus ride I went home and showered and then caught up with a guy from CouchSurfing named Dagur who was having a birthday party at his/his mother's house. He, Robert and I went to get groceries and prepare a little food for the gathering. Icelanders began pouring in after not too long, and the drunkenness begins. I did finally meet some Icelanders who suck at English, but everyone made an effort anyway, and were as friendly as can be. People must have asked every five minutes if I needed a drink, if I were enjoying myself, if I liked Iceland, all sorts of things. The guy who spoke to me the most was one of the worst at English, and that really meant quite a bit to me. Dagur and all of his friends are just awesome, the best people I've met so far in Iceland here.
(It kills me how smart Icelanders are, by the way.)
After that, Robert, Thorsteinn, Fridrik(?) and I went down to 101 Reykjavik (that's the post code for the center of town) for a show, a band called Sudden Weather Change. These incredibly competent young guys put on a great show. Cups were thrown, drums were kicked over, guitars were played using the ceiling, drums were played with guitars, and Robert hopped his happy ass right up on stage and sang along with the band. His steamy glasses and boylike appearance made it all the better. The look on his face was as blissful as I'd be if, say, Joanna Newsom called and asked me to come play harpsichord on her next tour. As far as the crowd goes, I haven't seen people that excited about a local band, well, ever. Jumping, screaming, moshing, Nordic elbows in my face, and they knew all the lyrics to every song.
After that we went around to a few bars. I won't belabor any points with details, but Reykjavik is fucking nuts. These people party like the world is going to end every fucking weekend of the year. All these stunningly beautiful Vikings completely fucked out of their minds dancing to American songs from the 80s and 90s, again knowing every word. These people are amazing. There's no room to move in most of these places, so you get around by shoving, hard. You have to push and shove to get anywhere. No one gets angry about it, it's not rude, it's just what you do. And when there's 5 people over 6 feet tall trying to push past you at once, you find somewhere else to stand real quick.
One of the things I love about Reykjavik is that these people are unspoiled. They know no sin, they know no wrong. There's no real crime here. There's hardly any drug problem at all. They're so sure that nothing bad can happen to them, really, and it's true; nothing really bad does happen here. They have to follow our news to get any of the truly awful shit.
101 Reykjavik. I see what they're talking about now. I'm not even social usually, but I joined right in, screaming, spilling beer on my own shoulders, pushing, shoving, dancing, moshing and otherwise trying to hold back the darkness.
Additionally, it's good there's only 300,000 Icelanders and that half of them are wasted all weekend long. These people could take over the entire world if they needed to. They're beautiful, brilliant, and they do everything better; dressing, eating, talking, driving, manufacturing surviving. They drink more, smoke more, eat more, everything is extremes here.
I must again reiterate how great everone I met today was. Iceland doesn't suck after all. I knew it couldn't possibly.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)