December 2005

So. Here in Niceland we’re currently in the process of gearing up for the Mutha of all parties [and if you’ve been reading for a while, you’ll know that we have many over the course of the year], namely New Years Eve.

Despite their crazy reputation, though, the New Years celebrations actually start off pretty tame and traditional. Pretty much everyone in this country does the same thing. First there is dinner, which is a fairly Big Deal, although not quite as big a deal as Christmas. The emphasis here is on a) Excellent food, b) Fun, replete with party hats, crackers, etc. c) Family. In our case, EPI’s daughters are with us [they spend Christmas each year at their mother’s place and NY Eve with us], so it’s the six of us for dinner, with more family [boyfriends, etc.] likely joining in later.

After dinner, we usually head down to the huge bonfire held down on Ægissíða [and yes, that’s what yesterday’s pic was all about]. Such bonfires are lit throughout the country on New Years Eve and symbolize the burning of the old. [year. obviously.] There’s always a really fun atmosphere – kids with sparklers, people setting off firecrackers, people mingling – everybody in a happy state of intoxication [natural or induced]. In recent years we’ve also seen the added trend of tourists by the busloads, with camcorders aloft. Getting all down with the natives, like.

So. When that’s done, it’s time for the third installment in the remarkably fixed line-up that is New Years Eve in Iceland. This is the Áramótaskaup – an hour-long TV programme of skits in which the country’s top comedians do a send-up of the year’s events, politicians, etc. [Something like this, but lasting for a full hour and covering the whole year.] This is always greatly anticipated, shrouded in the greatest secrecy beforehand, and the streets are virtually deserted while it is on. Indeed, in the days and weeks afterwards [well, maybe two weeks at most, we’re not that sad], the Skaup will be the main topic of conversation around watercoolers: whether it was funnier than last year, which skit was the funniest, which actor did the best job of imitating which politician, etc. Kind of banal, but there you go – another foible!

The end of the Skaup at 11.30pm signals the start of the Madness. In Iceland, you see, for better or for worse, fireworks are sold unrestricted to the general public between Christmas and New Years. [Which is why, dear tourist, you will find all mailboxes locked and all public garbage cans removed in the days leading up to and immediately following New Years Eve.] We generally head a few blocks up to the highest hill in the vicinity, where loads of people gather together to shoot fireworks into the sky. At midnight, all hell breaks loose. It’s like a war zone – the noise is maddening, but the sky is a sight to behold! Plus everybody jumps up and down and hugs their neighbour and everybody wishes everyone a Happy New Year and the Champagne flows [providing somebody has remembered to bring it]. This lasts for about half an hour, after which everybody sort of heads off home to continue the partying. At this point the Reckless Young People [i.e. the ones that still get a kick out of the bar scene – does not include YT who has a serious aversion to bars unless they have lots of fun people I know inside] head off to do their various carousing, while we the Sane Sensible people get looped on Champagne and play Actionary. Or something.

So there you have it – New Years Eve in Iceland, ladies and gentlemen. Oh, and props to Universal Soldier, Maggie, Louise and JB [who actually should be disqualified because he is Already in the Know] who all said ‘bonfire’ for yesterday’s mystery photo. It is indeed the pile that will become the Big Bonfire that I shall be watching hypnotized tomorrow evening.*

AND THE WEATHER IS…
Predictably, we at the Weather Report don’t give a rat’s ass about today’s weather – it’s tomorrow’s we want! Because if there was ever an evening in which the weather is of Prime Importance, it is the Weather on New Years Eve. So anyway, our resident weatherman has promised us a good one [as opposed to last year, when they had to actually cancel the brenna on account of a storm] so we’re cool. Temps at the moment are 3°C, we’ve had a blustery day, and our longed-for snow is all but gone. Sunrise at 11.21, sunset 15.39. And here’s one more snapshot of yesterday’s brenna pile from the other side. It will be even bigger today - lots of old stuff going up in flames tomorrow!

* PS yesterday when I took that shot, EPI told me that when he was a kid they would burn old fishing boats in the brenna. You could actually see proper boats burning in the middle. How crazy is that?

First, we have rancid skate cooking out on the balcony [on account of the smell, obviously]…

A steaming, heaping platter of rancid skate, mmmmmm……

Húrri the family feline was rather curious about the foodsmells wafting up from the table…

AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT…

Our tree tada!

[The string of lights near the bottom is brighter than the others. Noticeable only on camera though]

The lovely Christmas ornaments that EPI’s daughter brought me back from Slovakia, representing our four girls…

Girl one

Girl two

Girl three

Girl four

… AND THE WEATHER TODAY WAS COLD AND GORGEOUS

[Tomorrow I shall tell you what they’re doing. If you don’t know already.]

It’s been business as usual this Christmas, with adherence to both personal and cultural traditions, plus indulging in some serious [and well-earned] laziness.

Predictably, Yule chez YT begins on the 23^rd, what with birthday celebrations and the much-anticipated rancid skate party. A short lie-in is allowed on Christmas Eve day, before gearing up for the last-minute preparations. Inevitably some item of food or a small prezzie supplement has been forgotten in the gazillion-or-three shopping trips made in the final days, and this must be taken care of before shops close around 1pm [or 3 or 4 if you want to settle for a limited selection]. And you’d better get it while you can, because there will be nothing else open for the next 48 hours or so.

In the afternoon of the 24^th, we observe a very personal tradition that we happen to share with a large section of the Icelandic population, namely a trip to the cemetery to visit the graves of loved ones. My father’s side of the family always meets at the gravesite of my grandparents at 3.30pm, ostensibly to light candles but mostly just to touch base with each other and wish each other Merry Christmas. It’s a tradition that I’ve come to fervently love because it’s generally filled with fun, warmth and joy. Plus the cemetery is utterly breathtaking to behold – virtually every grave has a candle or some sort of decoration [thankfully the Icelanders are not partial to very garish ornamentation] and as darkness falls the twinkling lights of the candles are visible as far as the eye can see.

At 6pm sharp, Christmas begins when all the church bells throughout the country ‘ring in’ the jól. Everyone wishes each other a Merry Christmas and the radio begins broadcasting Christmas mass from the Dómkirkjan church. This is normally a very intimate and festive evening that you generally spend only with your nearest and dearest. Dinner begins soon afterwards and when that is completed, people relocate to the living room [or wherever the tree happens to be] to open presents. This takes up most of the evening, and afterwards everyone just sort of does what they wish – that is to say, if they don’t attend the midnight mass at Dómkirkjan, which starts at 11.30pm.

Christmas Day in Iceland is generally a lazy day. Reading is popular – in this country it is traditional for everyone to get at least one book for Christmas – as is sleeping, going out for a walk, watching TV, or anything else that requires minimum exertion. In the evening, many people attend some sort of function with the extended family – in our case, we meet up with EPI’s father and brother and sisters and spouses and kids for dinner. We always have the same thing – hangikjöt [smoked lamb] with all the traditional trimmings. [Laufabrauð, Ora green peas, Waldorf salad, red cabbage, potatoes in white sauce, and a few other sundry items. And chocolate cake for dessert.]

My family also gets together – however because my father works in the theatre and there is always a big premiere on Boxing Day, we tend to meet up at his house on one of the succeeding evenings. When I say ‘we’ I mean my crazy mixed up various-parts-make-up-a-whole family on my father’s side, including spouses and kids. It’s always a great evening – last night we had a blast playing Trivial Pursuit, for example. [Well, I had a blast. I won.] Plus the food prepared by my father’s wife is always to die for – generally turkey and stuffing plus trimmings, including an amazing wild mushroom sauce.

Anyway! This post started out being about something else entirely, but here I’ve somehow wound up giving a run-down of the YT family Christmas. I blame the overload of smoked salty foods – taste great going down, but are definitely not the best thing for the old constitution and may very well make you dazed and confused. [Unless it’s all that sleep]. Up next, our madcrazymayhemanarchy of a New Years Eve that people travel from all corners of the world to experience… although in the meantime I may post a photo or two of rancid skate… but not today… tomorrow…

PLUS I HAVEN’T TOLD YOU ABOUT THE WEATHER
… Which against all odds turned positively wintry today, with proper freezing temps and even some hail and snow – enough so that this country lives up to its name at least momentarily. Should be a relief for that poor British couple who thought Iceland had snow for most of the year [excuse me again while I guffaw!] and who next time might consider joining the Google ‘iceland weather’ people, who inevitably land on The Iceland Weather Report before they get here. Temps are now exactly at the freezing mark and I’m going to head outside to observe some of that strange white stuff firsthand. Sunrise: 11.22, sunset: 15.37.

Pity the poor tourists that spent Christmas in Reykjavík and failed to realize that virtually everything is closed on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. A grand total of four restaurants were open on the 24th, for example - including one fast-food place. Lots of people eating fish and chips for Christmas dinner, apparently. Yowsa.

HOWEVER!
… Before I go any further with any of this, I must wrap up the Yule Lads because I cannot bear not finishing what I’ve started and I shall have no peace until then. I have been gnawing my fingernails to the quick all Christmas just at the very thought of it. [Not.]

Now, the last Yule Lad to arrive each year, on the 24th, is Kertasníkir - Candle Beggar. This impudent fellow crept around behind the children who were enjoying their brand-new candles [because traditional Yule gifts in Iceland were candles and playing cards in days of yore when everybody was poor and lived in mud huts and had to eat rotten food]. The story does not state why he snuck around after them, but judging by his brothers’ track record and indeed his very name, I’d suspect he had rather subversive motives.

OK THEN, THAT CONCLUDES OUR YULE LAD BROADCAST…
Except I thought you might be interested in this: Gallup did a poll in December that found that nearly 80% of Icelanders have a favourite Yule Lad. Topping the list of favourites was Stúfur [Stubby, to me and you] with 30%, and right behind him was Kertasníkir [Candle Beggar] with 28%. Meanwhile the Licker Bros [Pot Licker, Pot Scraper Licker and Bowl Licker] came in last [no surprises there].

Moreover, supporters of the current government are more likely to have a favourite Yule Lad than those who are opposed. Stubby is the favourite among supporters of all government parties except the Left-Greens, who tend to favour Candle Beggar. People with a university degree are more likely to have a favourite Yule Lad than those who do not; and those in a higher income bracket are also likely to have a favourite Lad than those with a lower income. Women are more partial to the Yule Lads than men, and residents of Reykjavík are less likely to pick favourites among the YL’s than people from neighbouring municipalities or rural areas.

Fascinating stuff. I invite you to draw your own conclusions at your leisure.

MEANWHILE, PITY THE POOR TOURISTS
… from the UK, who were interviewed on the evening news and who expected there would be snow at Christmas in Iceland and, indeed, for most of the year. [Clearly they had NOT been reading a certain blog. I’ll say no more.] It rained like gangbusters all day yesterday and all day today and it’s still raining and lord only knows when it’s going to stop. Temps have been above freezing obviously, currently 1°C, and the sun came up at 11.22 and went down at 15.36.

First of all, today is my birthday. To those of you who have already jumped the gun - thank you my lovelies, it’s always great to get birthday wishes, on any day of the year. But today is the official one.

Secondly, what I would love love love today, is if all you lurkers out there would de-lurk just long enough to say hi. Really. That would be smashin’. [You don’t even have to give your name - although it would be nicer if you did - and you most certainly don’t have to have a blog to do it.]

You might also want to jump on over to Colin’s to wish him the same thing. Doomed forever to celebrate in the shadow of the Baby Jesus’s birth [although that’s probably more my projection than his] you can tell him Alda Kalda sent you.

Third, today we have ketkrókur - Meat Hooker. [Put that one in yer pipe and smoke it!] This guy was not of the streetwalking variety, but rather travelled around with a hook that he used to grab bits of meat for his culinary pleasure.

And now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go and partake of a rather excellent brunch prepared by my very own EPI. Peace and joy!

So EPI’s brother and sister-in-law have invited us to a putrid skate party tomorrow.

Putrid skate parties are without a doubt one of the more bizarre Icelandic traditions. Every year on December 23, Icelanders get together and eat skate [as in fish] that has been sitting in a closed container and allowed to ferment for about a month. By that time it has a smell that will totally clear your sinuses from about a mile away, and which smells remarkably like cat piss [it’s the ammonia].

Predictably, not everyone is partial to this tradition, and not everybody can handle the smell. It’s kind of a macho thing… EPI has for years now [more years than he’s known YT] met up with a group of his buddies every year on Dec. 23 to eat putrid skate for lunch. Normally they go to a restaurant, but last year and the year before, one of the group got permission from his wife to cook and eat the skate at home, although he was relegated to the garage. This is not uncommon, incidentally. You will frequently see people outside of normal human premises on this day, cooking up something that smells really extraordinarily foul.

Part of the fun [and the only way some people can possibly imbibe the stuff] is to drink some ice-cold schnapps with it. Aquavit [Danish liquor, 42% proof] is popular, as is our very own Icelandic brennivín [a.k.a. Black Death]. This can be risky, however, as some of EPI’s pals have discovered in the past as they’ve dragged their butts home around dinnertime to some very irate womenfolk waiting.

YT only had her first proper skate-eating experience last year, and while the food was not exactly my idea of haute cuisine, the party was a riot. And shall be repeated tomorrow. Yo.

SO WHAT LITTLE YULE LAD DO WE HAVE TODAY?
We have the one and only Gáttaþefur - Doorway Sniffer. He of the huge nose that he used for sniffing around in people’s doorways. It is reported that he could detect the smell of laufabrauð frying all the way up in his cave. Eat yer heart out, Pinocchio!