Copenhagen, here I co... umm.. go.. ?
(the space in front of the question mark is sponsored by Katrín Rut)

Are you kidding? I was so thrilled about the special offers from Iceland Express and was all set to get my one way to Copenhagen.. ready steady go.. couldn’t have gotten it much cheaper! I was considerably less thrilled a few days later when I had a look at the ticket and realised that the flight I had booked was from Copenhagen to Iceland. How this happened, I don’t know but I definitely didn’t feel like the sharpest knife in the drawer when I called to change the flight which doubled in price of course.
But hey, at least I realised before check in.. and I have it doublechecked.. I fly to Copenhagen on the 24^th of October and stop over for about 5-6 days before carrying on my journey to London.

Iceland 103, beginners course

For the first time in a while I am feeling a bit crap.. cold, tired, stiff, uninspired. It’s nothing to worry about.. no need to call out the special rescue cheer-you-up squad or anything. Probably it’s just a little come down from the weekend which had, as opposed to my current state of drowsy- mopey- and heavy-headed-ness, more joy and surprises than an overflowing bowl of Lucky Charms topped with a sprinkle of Cocoa Puffs.

Saturday. Like so many mornings of late I was gently woken up by my bladder (this is becoming more reliable than any alarm clock I’ve ever used.. is it an age thing?). The plan for the day was to go and look for the leftover sheep from the sheep-gathering the weekend before. Helga and I were sent walking up one mountain while the guys went down the valley. It was a nice hike up, not very far and we were lucky with weather. We followed the snowline and looked for sheep-trails. We found all kinds of footsteps in the snow and analyzed them thoroughly, wondering whether they could have been left by sheep, and if so, how long ago. Usually the conclusion was that they had been left by a fox, a mink and in one case I suspect it might even have been a bird. Whether it was because of our rather poor footstep analyzing skills or just because there were no sheep on that part of the mountain that we came back empty handed I will probably never know. I was a great walk none the less, the feeling when you sit in the autumn sun on the edge of a cliff, the din of a waterfall rushing to your side, look over a valley out to the sea and eat a jam sandwich..

Sunday. After a breakfast of apple pancakes and coffee I called Helga and Oliver to see what they were up to. They said they were feeling kind of lazy.. Now, normally I would have expected people to continue such a statement with talk of snuggling on couches, watching films, or playing cards. Not this time! In this case kind of lazy was followed by.. so we were just thinking of hiking up to this little mountain lake, and then maybe go to the swimming pool afterwards. I wasn’t feeling that lazy at all and was all invigorated by the previous day’s mini-hike so I decided to join the expedition despite a bit of a wind and a drizzle. We geared up in woollen underwear, fleece and gore-tex, put some hot chocolate and 80% stroh in the thermos and headed off. As we proceeded onwards and upwards the weather didn’t exactly improve.. and I soon found out that my borrowed gear (although pretty good stuff) was not entirely waterproof. This was not a problem however and we were all pretty warm and having a good time. Comments such as ‘this is definitely refreshing’, ‘I don’t mind being a little bit wet at all’ and ‘this is much more pleasant than I expected’ were made at this point in the trip. We filled our water bottle in a little mountain creek and the rain then really started kicking in (probably triggered by Oliver’s comment that it had almost stopped raining) The conversation that started with ‘imagine, people used to walk through this kind of weather all the time.. just to go to church, and they didn’t have gore-tex!’ went on to ‘of course, people used to die of exposure all the time back then’. Later, there was definitely a moment, when the volume of wind had tied an end to all unnecessary conversation, that we looked at each other and everyone was thinking something along the lines of ‘this lake really can’t be that spectacular’. This moment was followed by the ‘ok, lets just check behind that rise..’. At the next stop we all agreed that we were too close for turning around even to be an option any more.. As we started the final battle through a surprisingly deep layer of snow, with (what felt like) needles piercing our cheeks, we also agreed that we really understood why so many names in the Icelandic countryside included words such as ‘terror’, ‘cold’ and ‘hell’. I thought about the Kate Bush’s Wuthering Heights.

Before you start thinking that this was in any way not enjoyable I must add that I have rarely before felt so empowered and strong. It was an amazing feeling to know that what I was experiencing wasn’t half as bad as I knew it would sound when I described it. There is something so great about the feeling that the only way to make sure you don’t get cold and start feeling bad is to actually keep going.. pressing pause is not an option. Every time it crossed my mind that maybe we should turn round I was so relieved and happy when nobody suggested it and we did indeed carry on.
We spent a few moments in the shelter of a big rock, resting our legs and warming our stomachs with the delicious Stroh infused cocoa soup Oliver had mistaken for hot chocolate powder. Strengthened by the refreshment we walked the last metres to the lake, stood by it and looked for a few moments and then and turned around, running down the mountain side, jumping, sliding in the wet snow and the feeling was nothing less than fantastic. Then sploshing into the wetland, knowing that there was anyway as much water inside our shoes as on the outside until we were warm and slowed down. I promise that the rain and wind has never felt so pleasant on my skin!

I could write about the other things that happened but I don’t think anyone should spend that long reading one persons blog.. in fact most people have probably either stopped reading by now or worse even.. been completely scared off and not even ventured to begin. So if you have lasted this far, here follows your reward.

When Oliver was 13 years old his Christmas present to his father was a red striped woollen condom that he knitted himself. He even knitted a label that was attached to it and said GLEÐILEG JÓL (Happy Christmas). I don’t know how much the condom has come into use but as no younger siblings have been born since I can only assume that it serves its purpose well enough. The label has also been a success in serving his father as the perfect example of dyslexia as Oliver knitted the J the wrong way round.

I award Oliver the prize in the category for the BEST CRISTMAS PRESENT EVER!
If you know of anything that surpasses this, i would love to hear about it!

farmlife

As I ran in the still half-dusk it felt like my tears froze on my cheeks as Jeremey’s special edition i-pod shuffle running mix compelled further towards the glacier.

Work has been a bit slow. Both me and Bernd the puppeteer seem to be more in need of inspiration and soulfood than diving into a project. I want to swim, climb, ride, surf, go to a concert, go for a walk, run, do yoga, paint, write, cook.. I also want to work on this project but we have decided not to force it too much and ease into it whilst feeding our souls in other ways too. And so I feel it starts happening.. It´s all there.. This chapter is becoming dated as I write it!

I went swimming in the rain and was the only person in the swimming pool the whole time.. these are the pleasures of staying in small towns in Iceland. I practiced my crawl and holding my breath underwater. Crawl is slowly improving but I can still not go too far without air. I am preparing for whatever might happen. Better to be able to stay underwater for a little while and then swim away quickly!

Yesterday the weather was beautiful. After lunch we were on our way back to work when Magdalena arrived unexpectedly. She had ridden over the mountain from the next valley to try to persuade us to come riding. She succeeded and it was the best thing ever. I haven’t been on horseback since I was here over a year ago and I can’t describe how happy it made me feel. There is something so incredibly wonderful about riding, especially in a countryside like this; white mountain tops illuminated by the sun.. autumn colours fading to brown.. waterfalls.. a chill wind. I took my camera along but forgot about it as soon as I mounted my trusty steed, Vinur (Friend). No pictures from that trip I’m afraid.

I have started and restarted writing and rewriting the accounts of my stay in Minneapolis. It is ridiculously hard! I spent over an hour the other night playing the music to Bernd, showing him the (shockingly few) pictures I have and trying to explain everything. It was hard to do it justice, so I guess it is not surprising that trying to write it down makes it feel contrived and insufficient. I have written a page and it still doesn’t begin to describe what happened. I will just have to tell you in person if you really want to know. Otherwise..
I went to Minneapolis and had an incredibly wonderful experience, designed a show which went super well, made friends for life and am sure I will return. And for those who were there and made it happen, THANK YOU!

I was just thinking about how strange and distorted time has become. I don’t believe that there’s less than 3 months since I left London.. 4 months since my grandfather passed away. It feels like so much has happened in this time.. it's more like a year. I was talking with Bernd (the puppeteer) about all the great people I meet but then have to leave again. He travelled for many years and was talking about how you just loose touch with almost everyone in the end, even people you were extremely close to.
Of course I am a bit afraid that I will just keep coming to new places, meet all these amazing people and then disappear and that in the end I will never manage to have a deep connection with anyone and will end up surrounded with lots of people but always be alone. And that my life will be like a series of dreams. It sounds morbid but because I can’t think of living in one place at the moment it is maybe normal have this fear. So I write letters compulsively.. every free moment I have these days, I write. Because I miss all the people I can’t see and so people know I think of them, even if we might be far apart. Because I feel a need to share my thoughts and feelings, so you know.. and to keep a connection.

God, this all sounds so dramatic! It’s not really.. I’m happy, I’m easy, my life is better than ever, I wouldn’t want it any other way! But I am just a little bit afraid.. and I am realising that there are only so many letters and emails I can write in a day if I want to get anything else done. It's a sad truth i'm slowly having to face. So if you don't hear from me in a little while.. it's only because i don't love you any more and never want to see you or hear from you again.

And the moral of that story..

a blog

ok
so i've been meaning to do this for a while
i've been trying to write and keep in touch with everyone but it's not so easy when it get's busy.
i thought about group emails but they somehow feel more appropriate for holidays.. and i guess this is more of an optional thing for you than having it sent to your email all the time.

This first entry will be a long one i'm afraid. In the future they should be more concise.

I'm back in Iceland - Reykjavik.
I arrived yesterday morning after a rather nice day in NY. It actually felt a little bit morbid to be there by myself for a day, knowing i didn't really have time to experience the atmosphere of the city. So i tried to make the most of it and not feel obligated to do anything in particular just because i was there.
So. I had breakfast with Kirk Mullis (brother of the wonderful Jacob Mullis of Fort Wilson Riot) who was nice enough to let me stay for the night after only a few hours notice. As soon as we had finished a lovely basket of french breads with butter and jam i hurried off so as not to be late for my lunch engagement with Dr. and Mrs. Berger. Dr. Frank Milan Berger is the cousin of my grandfather. They were very fond of each other and when my grandmother was critically ill with TB Milan sent her medicine that were sill unavailable in the Czech Republic and which most probably saved her life. So it meant a lot to me to meet the old couple.. even if it was just very brief. Milan is 94 and his wife Christine is 10 years younger. I find it so interesting and fascinating to meet people who have lived for such a long time and to hear their stories. Of course we spoke about my grandfather's death and my grandmother's loss, and it brought tears to my eyes.. it suddenly felt more real than it has for a while. When Milan told me that he had lost over 60 friends and family members in the holocaust my eyes were filled with tears again, as were his, although i couldn't tell whether it was from sadness or because his eyes are old and watering up for other reasons. 60 people. It is hard to imagine.. I wonder how many will read this.. and hope none of us will have to experience such great losses in our lives.
After lunch i walked down to central park and thought about the people i had just spent over a month with in Minneapolis. It still felt like i was going to be seeing them that evening.
I didn't really feel like walking around the city like a tourist so i went down to East Village and found a tattoo place and finally had birds on a wire done on my forearm. The tattooist Herman from Malaysia didn't seem to have any opinion about what he was about to do and just went ahead with what i asked for. He worked in silence, occasionally asking me whether it didn't hurt or what i was doing in the US as Magnus 135 sat by in silence and watched, smirking slightly.
I came out feeling kind of strange but also special and soon found myself walking into a basement with a group of Asian women sitting outside smoking next to a sign advertising an hour long massage for $45. Without any words i was shown into a little booth with thin partition walls and a bench where i lay down on my stomach and covered myself with a thin towel. I didn't see the woman who came in to massage me until the end when i came out to pay. She was very sweet and helped me tie my dress up at the back and offered me a seat on the couch and said something i didn't understand to another woman who was sitting there. She looked at my bandaged arm, looked me up and down, answered something in a soft voice and smiled sympathetically as i got handed a glass of water. I suspect my massouse might have told her about the scratches and bruises on my body caused by my fall out of the tree last weekend.
I then hurried back to Kirk's where Nadar, my very nice taxi driver from the day before, was already waiting, having shown up half an hour early.
On the way to the airport he offered me some of the food his mother had packed for him. It was great, traditional Pakistani cuisine and a sandwhich, much better than anything i would have gotten on the airplane and filling enough that i didn't have to find out. People are so kind!

I arrived at 6am and had my first experience of jet lag. It wasn't too bad.. although i just heard that some guys who were playing poker at my cousin's house last night while we played pictionary assumed i was stoned when i guess i was just tired.
It is now Sunday afternoon/evening. I am sitting in my mothers kitchen as i write this. Today i spent some time in my flat where i haven't been in a long time. It was left in a bit of a state by the boys who were living there so i am cleaning and getting rid of various junk and furniture, amongst other things thy left 3 sofas and 3 televisions! ? I am planning to move in there next week when i get back from Skíðadalur and then hopefully when Freyr comes back from Minneapolis we will tear down some walls and do some other work on it before i leave the country again. I am looking forward to staying in my own place for a little while.

This has all been leading up to talking about my stay in Minneapolis.
But where to begin. I'm not quite sure how to write about this experience.. it was so vast and incredible.
I think i will give myself a few more days to digest the experience before i publish anything about that..