Arsehole!

Here is one interesting fact.
In the Icelandic language, like in most other languages, we have a word for the part of the body called arse. In most cultures, and please tell me if I am wrong, this word, like so many other words describing body parts in close vicinity to the arse, is commonly used in a derogatory way about people, even as a swearword. In Iceland however, if you call someone an arse ‘rass’, it is not in the least rude. In fact it is quite a nice thing to say and means that the person being addressed is kind of cute and cheeky. You may even pull a little face and use a special tone of voice to underline how cute the subject really is. If that individual is so incredibly cute and irresistible that even changing the tone of your voice is not enough to express your feelings of appreciation, adoration even, you may have to upgrade to the word ‘rassgat’; arsehole. Calling someone an arsehole, using the special tone and even pinching their cheek will really give a clear message about how incredibly cute you think they are, although in most cases they probably wouldn’t understand you, because the people most frequently called arseholes are in fact babies. If it is an especially cute baby, you may even refer to it as a ‘rúsínurassgat’, a raisin-arsehole, and, if that still doesn’t quite do it, ‘rúsínurassgatabolla’ is the word for you and means raisin-arsehole-bun (bun being a sweet doughnut like pastry).
Yes, in Iceland all babies are arseholes.

Coincidences?

Have you had things happen to you that just seem like they can’t possibly be a coincidence?
I’m pretty sure you have.
As it happens I am not one to believe in fate, or a particular higher meaning to our being for that matter. I’ve kind of been leaning towards the belief that everything is more or less coincidental, and that it is up to us to make the best of and give meaning to what we have and what happens to us. Be optimistic and make it special.
But sometimes things happen that just make me wonder. And there has been an awful lot of funny coincidences of late.
Maybe it started in Minneapolis. Maybe it started before. I’m not sure.
I had been in Minneapolis for a week and was invited to a dinner party. There I met many nice people and talked to a very nice and cute guy. Afterwards he cycled me home and we swapped numbers. Promising! Two days later my brother drove me to a thrift store to do some work-shopping. It was 9am on a Tuesday and hardly anyone there. But as I walk into the shop, which was not small by any means or definition, the first thing I see is the cute guy from the dinner. Wow, I thought, what a great beginning, this must mean something! As it turned out a few days he already had a lady friend and nothing ever happened between us except that we bumped into each other by chance 2 times after that and had friendly chats. I thought no more of it.

Until now. Last Wednesday my disbelief in destiny was as challenged as it will ever be until I actually change my mind and start believing in it.

Half a year ago, when I was still in London, I met a different guy. That was a completely different ‘meeting’, maybe most intense and magical I have ever experienced in such a short time. It was like a weekend of fireworks, except much more fun than fireworks and not quite as many loud bangs or children running around with glow-sticks and shouting. After the weekend he left the country and we continued expressing our adoration for each other with great intensity through email, for a week. When, completely unexpectedly the affair came to an end, as suddenly as it had begun. Complete silence until I finally received a letter explaining and apologising in the most beautiful and sympathetic way. That was that.
As it happens this man lives in Copenhagen. So when I was going there I couldn’t help thinking of him, and, despite not having heard from him at all for almost 6 months, I sent him a letter telling him I would be coming and whether he would like to meet. I was almost surprised to receive a reply saying that he would love to.
So I wrote back suggesting a day to meet but on my arrival in Copenahagen I still hadn’t heard back from him and wandered whether I should be taking ‘Lonesome Town’ on the train as a warning. I arrived around lunch and after settling in and having a shower and a bit to eat I decided to walk into town where I was meeting a friend later. As I strolled down the street towards the centre I wondered what he was doing and whether I should try to call him in the evening or just leave it, when suddenly there he was. On a bicycle, stationary at the red light by the zebra crossing I was about to cross. I couldn’t even speak. I just walked on and stared at him in disbelief until he looked my way and our eyes met. It is too corny to say that for a moment it felt like time stood still. Suddenly he was off his bike, on the sidewalk and as we let go our embrace we stood opposite each other, still holding hands, our eyes fixed on each other, smiling, sparkling, amazed. It was the most wonderfully bizarre moment. We both had so many things we wanted to talk about and tell each other but were both on our way somewhere so we decided I would call him in the evening and we would meet the next day. As I walked away I wondered if I had perhaps imagined the whole thing. What are the odds in a city of millions that I would run into him, and within 4 hours of my arrival?! Can you imagine my relief when he actually picked up the phone in the evening and suggested he come and meet me at where I was staying and we go for brunch somewhere.

Can you blame me if for a moment or two I forgot about my ‘no such thing as destiny’ rule and thought that this was two crazy to be a coincidence?

I have rarely felt as disappointed and stupid as the next day, when I had waited for 3 hours and finally tried to call him. The last thing I heard from him was his voice on his answering machine announcing to me that he was unable to pick up the phone but that I could leave a message. I did not.
I guess I’m back to ‘there is no such thing’, although, just because this wasn’t the magical twist of fate that changed my life forever, you can never be sure about the laws of the universe.

And not to end this on a melancholy note and to prove that I am the master of the universe when it comes to running into people in the most unlikely situations, here is a funny ending.
Last night I was at the supermarket doing last minute shopping for the farewell dinner. I was crouched down in an isle in Irma, the rather expensive supermarket but the only one still open at that hour, when suddenly I hear a man speak my voice. I look up and there is Rune who I have only met in London a few times because am friends with and used to live with his girlfriend, Lina. It turns out that he doesn’t live in the neighbourhood, not even close, but was there by some off chance and thought he would do a little shopping on his way home.
So we had an extra guest for our lovely little dinner where we ate so much lovely food that I am now grateful that we fucked up the muffins we were also trying to make. If I would have eaten them too I would still not be able to move.

By the way, I have just arrived in London!

mystery

Louisiana was out today. Never happened. Wearing pyjamas all day, having ugly hair and playing cards was most definitely in. I love it. Tomorrow however I am going to get dressed in the morning and go out and see something before we have a farewell dinner in the evening and I have to leave again. I wonder if there is any kind of limit to how many farewell dinners / parties you can have in one year?!
The other day I discovered a most curious thing. I went out running one morning when Katrín and Jens were already at work and nobody in the flat. When I came back and opened the door, the flat was in a mess, floor covered in white dust and a drilling noise further inside. I obviously got a shock at seeing that the flat had been transformed into a building site in my short absence and was starting to question my sanity when I suddenly realised that I had in fact walked into the flat on the floor below. Apparently, and of course nobody knew this, the key from the flat here also fits for the one below. We have been speculating how this could have happened and what should be done. It is of course an incredible opportunity for all kinds of practical jokes, which could be funny, but also not a good idea at all. I must admit I love the idea of going down there before anyone shows up and setting up a perfect little picnic on a checkered table cloth in the middle of the floor. A clean little island in the middle of a big mess, and then to see how the people would react when they showed up. Or maybe something just a little bit more subtle to begin with. Or maybe it is not cute at all and just creepy and good that I am actually leaving so I can’t actually do these things and get myself into trouble.
The craziest thing is that nobody knows how long it has been like this. And that if they hadn’t had such an absent-minded visitor who can’t recognise anything, nobody might have known for a hundred years.
What to do about the situation remains unresolved.
Have you tried your keys to the other doors in your house or neighbourhood?

ps. i love it when you comment but would love it even more if you would leave your name, or a hint at least which could be even more exciting!

Copenhagen continues..

Katrín and Jens are such lovely people to stay with and hang out with, as is Kristín, and all the other people I have had the pleasure to meet here.
Copenhagen was definitely a good idea.
All the people here are super trendy and good looking. The city itself is beautiful, the shops are beautiful and everyone has beautiful bikes and lives in beautiful flats. Well maybe not everyone, but everyone I visit.
Since arriving I think I might have broken an eating record, possibly a drinking record also. I have had so much fun and discovered, to mine and other’s surprise, that I can actually speak Danish much better than anyone knew and have spoken little else all day. Hurray for that!
Yesterday we went to a gig with a Brazilian electro-band. It was great but had a strange mix of an audience; amongst others a group of Icelandic teenagers who I wondered for a second if might be the same ones I encountered at the airport. After the band finished we hurried out to go to another party which was a good thing because today we heard that after we left the first place a gun-shooting broke out between some drug-dealers and security and a number of people got arrested. The evening was definitely better spent at the Film-Skolen party which was full of good looking men and where we danced so much and in such a wild manor that we believe people were beginning to give us funny looks.
We have now spent all day playing cards, eating and laughing and are waiting for sushi to be delivered to us and then to play more games. The problem is that we have no board games so now two people are working hard on their respective laptops trying to find and download Pictionary. The inter net is so incredible and doesn’t cease to amaze me. Only the other day I was trying to convince my friend that kiwi fruit really was manmade, quite obviously a splice of a strawberry and banana. Everybody I had discussed this with before was as ready to believe this as I was, even surprised that it had never occurred to us before and it has also led onto other interesting discussions such as whether a peanut is a potato and an almond a seed. I was trying hard to remember what broccoli was made out of when the doubtful friend had picked up his computer, entered wikipedia and found absolutely no evidence that the human race had anything to do with the invention of either kiwis not broccoli. This was of course a great disappointment and came as quite a shock as I have spent a lot of time lately educating people of these important facts.
This of course has very little to do with my stay in Copenhagen.
Tomorrow we are going to visit the Louisiana Art Museum which I was last in about 10 years, and then not by choice or out of particular interest. We will take the train and have a picnic. I look very much forward!

Copenhagen

A group of teenagers loudly speculate whether there are metal detectors and drug-dogs on the way into Copenhagen. I can't imagine there is blooming business in smuggling drugs and weapons from Iceland to Denmark. But then, what do i know.
The cue slowly moves slowly past me and I should probably stand up and close my laptop so I can get onto the plane too. There is no internet here though so even if I am writing this during my last moments on Icelandic soil (if you can call the floor of an airport soil) this will not reach your eyes till I am off the plane again and in Denmark.
I was asked if i wanted a seat by the isle or window. They never ask you if you want a middle seat. I chose a window seat, the only free on was in the last seating row. The lady thought there was a good chance I might have the entire row to myself, apparently it is the least popular row.. perhaps it will now be my most favorite row. The cue is still long but moving more quickly. I will finish this later today,

Maybe it is my new favourite row. I didn't get three seats to myself, the plain was completely full. But I did sleep the entire way apart from about 10 mins at take off and landing and didn't even get pins and needles.

On my walk from the airplane to baggage reclaim I walked through one of the round turning glass door thing and was in a 'compartment' with two teenage boys, possibly part of the smuggling speculating group. As we walked through they said something rude in Icelandic assuming I didn't understand. You should have seen their faces when they realised that they did. I think every Icelander that has gone to Denmark is familiar with this and has learnt very quickly to be more careful.

On the train from the airport I turn on my i-pod, which is set on shuffle and wait for a song to set the tune of my stay in Denmark. As the people around me struggle with getting there luggage on and into place I sit in the corner of the isle listening to 'Lonesome Town' made famous by Pulp Fiction, a song about broken hearts – streets filled with regret and wanting to forget.
I sit and wonder whether I should be reading something into this, a mere coincidence or is this song telling me shat to expect of my Copenhagen experience. Luckily I don't read to much into incidences like this but obviously it makes me think..
The next song isn't much more cheerful.. although one of my favourite songs. Madeleine Peyroux sings 'Between the Bars'.. 'people you've been before that you don't want around anymore, that push, shove, won't bend to your will..

I'm not superstitious enough to believe that my stay here will be anything but wonderful however. In fact it is already! I spent a wonderful day with two old friends and one new. It's great to be here and I'm going tomorrow.
Tomorrow might change my life.
Magick is everywhere!
Pedestrian traffic in Copenhagen is not like in London. I was told off for crossing the street on a red light. I will not do it again!

limbo bimbo

I have found myself doing the most unusual jobs of late. During the day I sometimes go with my mum to work at her office. There I do various little jobs that have been left out over the last months and nobody has the time to do. Like filing info and data, organising files.. little things that take time and organisation but not much energy. If I knew I would be doing this every day for a year it might be tiring but at the moment it’s perfect. In fact, it’s exactly what I need.
The thing is, I’ve been in a rather strange state of being of late. The last year was so crammed with things happening and I didn’t stop.. until now. A month has passed since I finished Idigaragua and left Minneapolis and I feel like I haven’t done anything. Of course that’s not quite true. I’ve been spending most of my time moving and settling into my flat, which is also kind of strange because I’ll be leaving in a few days time. I’ve had time to see friends, for swimming, sleeping, yoga in the mornings, cooking, writing, going out, hiking.. It’s all great but still something is missing. My work.
A song makes me cry and I don’t know why.. I check what it is.. the title is ‘blue’. I’m blue? I’m not blue? I have no reason to be blue.. but I can’t help being a little bit.
It doesn’t bother me that I don’t quite know where I’m going with my work.. or with my life for that matter. In fact I don’t even want to know. Just as long as I’m being creative and doing something I enjoy and learn from. Right now I feel like I’m in a state of still and limp, floating for a little while.
So being the little funny looking office elf is pretty good right now. It’s easy, I feel at least a little bit useful, the people there are very nice and I earn some money.

The other job that suddenly came up is very different. Iceland Airwaves music festival is in full swing. It’s great. Reykjavík is a buzz with all kinds of bands, from all over the place, playing everywhere, all the time. I run around town trying to catch as much as possible, hoping to discover an audio treasure or to be at least a little bit blown away. Until 11pm. Then I am picked up by a bus driver – we drive to the airport where I hold up a sign and wait to greet arriving bands, giving them a warm welcome and making sure they arrive safely at their respective hotels.
An unexpected addition to my first experience of Airwaves and definitely has made it more interesting!

different kinds of swimming

There is the type of swimming where you simply run out, strip down and take a large swig of cognac before diving headfirst into the lake where your grandfather lays his nets for trout and on which your mother used to go ice-skating in winter as a child. You swim out a bit and swaddle around in the shallow water, skin tightening into goose bumps as the various slimy unidentified plants caress your belly. Then stand up, sinking into the mud up to your knees, shivering; partly from the cold water, partly from exhilaration, and you scramble out to find your towel and pick off the odd leach that accompanied you onto the yellow grass banks.

There is also horseback swimming. When you stop your horse in the middle of the river and try to get him to change directions and follow the other riders instead of the herd, which has gone slightly off track. Your horse is reluctant and confused and starts breathing vigorously through his nostrils, spinning in circles and rearing until you ease off the reins and let him go his way. He follows the herd, dragging your legs through the water as he wades/swims across and then sinks into the muddy shore battling his way onto more solid ground until he stands panting on the other side with you mildly shivering but still safe on his back.

Then there is the type of swimming where you do your lengths in the swimming pool, stopping occasionally for a person to cross your lane, a sip of water or to wipe the fog from the inside of your goggles. Meanwhile a large group of elderly ladies (and a few lucky gentlemen) do their morning exercises in the shallow end, swaying and bending in slow motion to the rhythm of the water and the all-male choir echoing from the tall speakers the soothing melodies of their youth. As you walk back to the dressing rooms in the chill morning air, you look back and are overcome by a warm sensation at seeing them join hands in a big circle and dance, smiling and waving good bye to their instructor as he slowly disappears into the mist from the warm water.

yes
i like swimming

back in town..

After the valley of puppets and other strange beings I went to pay my family farm, Sjávarborg, a long overdue visit. It was a crazy weekend of many parties, all surrounding Laufskálarétt, the biggest annual horse-gathering of this country. There people in riding pants and woollen jumpers herd the horses into a stone fence and then battle them with all their might into the correct pens. For those of us who were too scared to jump in with the running steeds and take part in the action it was enough fun to sit on the walls around and watch and then walk around, have a sip of something with a friend or enjoy a bit of snus (dark brown tobacco powder that you suck into your nose and makes your bogeys black for the next 24 hours).
What a great weekend. I think my wonderful and beautiful cousin Silja and I must have broken some sort of laughing record..
None the less it’s nice to be back in Reykjavik for a little while and see all the wonderful friends who are busy studying and working and (most of all it seems these days) increasing the population of the world!
And I can’t deny that it’s nice to be back in my own flat moving furniture and carrying boxes once again. Not that I wasn’t happy staying with all you lovely people that have been generously putting me up for the last few months, or that I don’t look forward to the various couches and beds of the near future but it is nice anyway, you know what I mean, to have my own space for a little while. The last time I lived in this flat it was with my ex-boyfriend and very dear friend Víkingur who is now temporarily living in Berlin. He must have anticipated how much I would miss his presence and was considerate enough to leave the city covered in enormous posters of himself accompanied by a rather confused looking cow. And just in case I'm staying on a farm or don’t leave the house one day, no need to despair for I can be most certain to find him in any newspaper I might happen to leaf through.. and if there are no newspapers..? He thought of that one too, all i have to do is turn on the television and wait for the next advertisement break. I even went with my cousin to the gym in the morning and there he was, the first thing I saw as I walked into the exercise hall – right above the mirror behind the treadmills; his face, covering almost the enire wall and watching over me as i did my workout. Kind of weird I must say, but also kind of nice. I am just very very grateful that he is such a great person.. I can imagine how it could be not so amusing to have enormous pictures of your ex everywhere!
phew! (or sjúkkett! as we would say in the mother tongue)