June 2007

So AAH, whose hobbies include hanging out in cafés, decides she’d like to try working in one. That way she can combine the two, with the added bonus of getting paid. Being an ambitious sort, she picks the most popular café in Reykjavík and submits an application. She’s promptly called in for an interview.

INTERVIEWER: So do you have any café experience?
AAH: I worked in a bakery for about a month where they had a café.
INT: When can you start?
AAH: Um …
INT: Today?
AAH: Well, actually I have to …
INT: Tomorrow?

And so, for the past two days AAH has been pulling eight-hour shifts at the busiest café in town. She’s working again today and has been asked to work all weekend. They’re desperate for people, just like virtually every other place in town, and in fact it seems like she’s one of the few Icelanders working there. Half the staff speaks English at work.

The last time I blogged about this, it was still a novelty to go into a store or a café, address a staff member in Icelandic, and have them respond in English. Now it’s become par for the course and hardly warrants a raised eyebrow. Don’t misunderstand: it doesn’t bother me. I think it’s kind of fun. Plus it can only be an improvement, considering the fact that foreigners usually provide better service than Nicelanders and are usually better tempered too, like the African woman who works in Bónus who is always friendly and smiling, unlike her teenaged Icelandic counterparts. In other words, not only do foreign labourers help the economy, they may even help raise the standard of the Icelandic service industry. And as we all know, it would not be a moment too soon.

BUT RIGHT NOW I AM MORE INTERESTED IN THE WEATHER
Which is stupendously gorgeous and I don’t know why I am still hanging around inside. It’s time to hit the pool again to soak up some rays. Yowsa! What a life of luxury I lead these days, it’s quite decadent. Current temps 16°C [59F], sunrise at 3.02 am, sunset at 11.59 pm.

This is the time of year when everything grinds to a halt in Niceland - from the end of June to the beginning of August. Standard holidays here are 24 days per year - nearly five weeks - and the vast majority of people make the greatest use of that in the summer. This means a marked lull in the translating/copyediting business, which in turn means that our YT has the luxury of doing things like sleeping in, dicking around on the computer all day, and catching up on long-overdue fun-filled projects like cleaning out the pantry [read: the room off our kitchen in which we stuff everything that has no fixed place in the universe].

[whinge begins]

BUT lest you think being a Nicelandic translator/copyeditor in the height of summer is all fun and games, think again! Take for instance the telephone call our YT got from DV, Iceland’s most notorious tabloid rag [actually, come to think of it, I don’t know if it’s tabloid now - it keeps changing hands - one minute it’s tabloid, the next minute it’s not, who can keep track?] a couple of days ago.

DV JOURNALIST: Hello, is this Alda Kalda the translator?
YT: Why, yes!
DVJ: This is sowanso, jounalist at DV, do you have time for a short interview?
YT: […?]
DVJ: It’s about that book you translated, that’s just been published.
YT: […?]
DVJ: Yes the one about [x].
YT: Oh! Hahaha - the one that was published ten years ago.
DVJ: No, the one that was just published now.
YT: No, ten years ago.
DVJ: No, now.

So it turns out that this book I translated ten years ago - and own the copyright on - has just been republished and nobody told me. How delightful.

So YT gets on the blower to the writers’ union. There it transpires that this is indeed an infringement of copyright laws, pending certain conditions. Question is, whether the certain conditions are in place.

YT gets on the blower to the publisher. Gets a new editor, never before encountered.

NEW EDITOR: Oh my. Oh. I never thought. Just that it was all done in such a big rush and everything. Must look into it. Check whether certain conditions are in place. Apologies, regrets, etc. Give me your email, I’ll send you mine.

Sigh.

I’m happy to give them the benefit of the doubt, but previous [and bitter] experience has taught me that publishers in this country are not to be trusted when it comes to the rights of translators. Consequently I’m extremely reluctant to work for publishers … not only is the standard rate for translations pitifully low, but annoying things like this are almost to be expected. Corporate work may not be as fulfilling - but at least it’s straightforward and trouble-free.

[/whinge ends]

ANYWAY, WHILE I SIT INSIDE GRUMBLING, THE SUN BECKONS OUTSIDE…
And heading for the swimming pool has suddenly become an exceedingly attractive idea. It’s been an excellent June, they say, although the past couple of days were a bit too much on the windy side, with temps a bit lower than we’re used to at this time of year. Sort of like the summers used to be here before the onset of global warming. Ah, nostalgia! Current temps 12°C [52F] and sunrise was at 3 am, sunset due for 12.01 am tomorrow [the day getting shorter, argh!].

So The Blovel is coming along swimmingly. [You know - the novel YT and a few other bloggers are writing on a blog.]

Valerie had the brilliant idea of having the main gangster, who is being frantically sought [exactly by whom remains to be seen], operating out of Iceland, and the blovel was promptly titled: THE CODFATHER - A NOVEL ABOUT DODGY GEYSERS.* YT then introduced Iceland and since then I’ve been consistently amused and/or impressed by the efforts of my fellow Blovelers [most of whom have never been to Niceland] to move the action over our way, peppering it with crafty remarks such as, “Better grab a Starbucks too. Last chance – Icelandic coffee sucked puffin bollocks, if he remembered correctly”. HAR!

The latest thing to make me split a gut was in the most recent installment, when the Great She Elephant introduced a certain Mr Jóhannesson - ‘a man living an apparently respectable life as an Icelandic corporate raider’. In other words, our very own Jón Ásgeir is well on his way to becoming a major player in our Blovel. Mwhahahahah!**

WEATHER!
Gorgeous today, spent the afternoon sunnying self by banks of Laugardalslaug pool. Temps / sunrise / sunset approximately same as yesterday.

* The Brits pronounce ‘geyser’ as ‘geezer’ - geddit?
** Nicelanders will understand; others may want to read the full story here and here and here, if you feel so inclined.

On Saturday EPI and I took my cousin and uncle to the airport, and since we were all the way out there decided to make a stop at the Blue Lagoon. For those who don’t know, the Blue Lagoon was accidentally created when the runoff from the local geothermal power plant started to gather in a pool next to it. Someone decided to take a dip and discovered that their skin came out all soft [and their hair like a scarecrow’s, but that’s another story]. So more and more people started showing up to dip themselves in the pool - which was a bright iridescent blue colour because of all the silica in the water - and soon they had built a little shack with showers and change rooms. Gradually the place became trés popular, so a few years ago they decided to actually move the lagoon [and happily smooth out the jagged bottom - it’s located in the middle of a lava field with very sharp lava formations], build a super-duper spa type place with restaurant, gift shop and whathaveyou, jack up the price of admission about 150 percent, and generally turn the Blue Lagoon into Iceland’s most shameless tourist trap ever. [Similar to what they’re planning to do with my wonderful rustic old sauna. Sniff.]

At first, even the Nicelanders marvelled at the architectural wonder that was the new Blue Lagoon, what with its spa built into the lava, steam bath in a cave, silica mud in buckets [in the old one you used to have to gather the silica stuff from the bottom of the lagoon to plaster all over your face] and posh changerooms. Over time, however, the place started to become a little less attractive, simply because it was starting to get slightly shabby and the busfuls of tourists were kind of offputting [especially as the vast majority refuse to get naked], the changerooms were all grotty, and it was kind of hard to justify paying ISK 1,800 [USD 29] for admission when you can go to a nice clean swimming pool for about a tenth of that.

And yet. The water is nice and warm and tends to leave you all smooth and languid, so because we were practically passing by last Saturday [it’s about a 45 minute drive from town] we decided to take a dip.

But lo! The normally-iridescent Blue Lagoon was actually green. Look:

… and here:

Hmmmm. Somewhat unappetizing, I must say. Still, EPI and I decided to go for it, muttering to each other that we would just shower extra well afterwards while trying to keep water from actually entering our, um, oral cavities.

And then. This evening, current affairs programme Kastljós actually did a feature on “The Green Lagoon”, interviewing a bunch of tourists about how they felt being submerged in acid green water [really funny - check it out here] and also seeking an explanation from the Lagoon staff, who claim the colour of the water is due to an overgrowth of algae. Sounds pretty dubious to me, though. Especially as the water in the runoff right next to the lagoon, which just happens to have no people floating in it, is the same iridescent blue colour as the lagoon always was.

… and:

See, Watson? No algae there. Rather suspicious I daresay.

THE WEATHER
Lovely today, cloudy spells but sunny in between. Wind picked up this afternoon, just as a carpenter was replacing the [large] window pane in my little home office, causing dust and old window pane fasterning gunk to blow all over my bookshelves and such. Good thing I had the wherewithal to move the computer before he arrived, otherwise it would probably be in OZ by now. Currently 14°C [57F], sunrise at 2:57 am, sunset 12:03 am tomorrow.

PS. I’ve just noticed that yesterday’s post about midsummer night is number 666 since the beginning and as I am superstitious in the extreme I have hurried up and posted again. Otherwise creepy five-year old boys with evil nannies may show up and start trying to push me down the stairs or toss me out the window. Something one wishes to avoid.

So, EPI and I went out to Grótta last night at to see if we’d find any magic stones. It was midsummer night and according to Icelandic folklore, magic stones abound on that night - if you find one, you can make a wish, and your wish will come true.

Alas, we found none. Neither did we see any people rolling around nekkid in the dew [supposed to heal whatever ails you], nor any seals stripping off their skins [they were believed to be humans in disguise and to only be able to shed their skins on that night], nor cows talking.

We did get a picture of the sky, though, taken at 1.15 am…

That’s what it looks like in midsummer. The sun had actually set about an hour earlier, but being so far north, it only dips just below the horizon, before it starts to rise again. About an hour and a half after that picture was taken, we would have had brilliant sunshine again, only I wasn’t there to witness it because by then I was sleeping on my green ear*. With a sleep mask on, because in contrast to most Nicelanders I’m a total wuss when it comes to sleeping in the light.**

The weather has been gorgeous these past few days, particularly yesterday when there was barely a cloud visible in the sky. Today was slightly more overcast but with occasional sunny spells and just the slightest breeze, with highs around 15°C. Right now 12°C [52F] with sunrise at 2.57 am and sunset at 12.03 am.

* Nicelandic idiom, as most of you will already know.
** As opposed to EPI, for instance, who rarely even draws the curtains in the summer, and who will happily go to sleep with full lights on, if I’m reading or something.

Today, my mother’s ashes were laid in the ground in a cemetery in Kópavogur, having been brought over by relatives from Canada.

Obituaries in the paper, letters read at the service, condolences offered by strangers. And I am struck by how many versions there are of the same person, and how different they are from mine.

So tremendously relieved that it is finished.

OK, it pains me to do this. Pains me. But it cannot be helped: I have been forced to amend my glowing review of ICELANDIC FISH AND CHIPS, as the place has fallen rather severely from grace here at the Weather Report.

It all started last Saturday night when EPI and I went there for a bite. The place was hopping and we were instructed to order and pay for our food BEFORE checking to see if there was a decent table available. [It has a front room, and a back room, only partially visible from the front.] There is a rather brusque [read: rude, even by Icelandic standards, which is saying a lot] man working there, who instructed us to sit down at a table for two that happened to be in a high-traffic area, right next to the cash register and the self-serve area for cutlery, water and such. [Did I mention the place was hopping? Virtually the butt of every customer in the place would have made direct contact with our food.]

YT: We’d rather have another table, if that’s OK.
RUDE MAN: There are no other tables available.
YT: Nothing in the back?
RM: No, and I don’t know when one will become free.

At that point I probably would have turned and left, were it not for the minor consideration of having already paid.

So EPI and I had a brief consultation, in which YT bitched about terrible Icelandic service, and EPI tried to convince YT - unsuccessfully - that we should just do as we were told and sit down at the table.

YT: [assertively, to rude man] We’ve decided to wait for another table.
RM: Okay, but I don’t know when one will become available!

At that point, YT wandered into the back room - and what did she see? A table for two, unoccupied, albeit with dirty plates all over it. Granted, it was situated virtually next to the loo and the air back there was stuffy and smelled dangerously like unflushed toilet water, but hey, it was preferable to the other option.

So we sat down, and received fine service for the rest of the meal. The food was good and it appeared that the waitstaff were aware of our grumbling, because they truly made an effort. And so, ICELANDIC FISH & CHIPS was redeemed.

Until last night when I went there again, this time with my cousin, who is visiting from Canada. We lined up, ordered our food, paid, and then wandered into the back room.

Once again, the rude man appeared [impossible to shake!] to question our choice of seating. Evidently it was not to his satisfaction that we should sit down at a table for four, despite the fact that a couple who had just ordered before us had just sat down at a table for four right next to us. No - he instructed us to sit down at the table for two that EPI and I had occupied two nights earlier - the one with the toilet smell.

As YT stood there, all flustered and deciding what to do, the rude man turned and said [wait for it …]

“WHAT??“

Oh, boy. N’er before has a “WHAT??“ evoked such animosity. Stewing, we returned to the front room, and took a seat at the table in the butt-brushing high traffic area. But, lo! Just at that point, a table for four in a prime location next to the window was making ready to leave. Meanwhile, two punters were just about to order, and were eyeing the table by the window. So YT and cousin did the only do-able thing under the circumstances - made a beeline for the table for four, next to the window.

A moment later, the waitstaff came along to clear it. A few minutes after that, rude man appeared with a fresh paper tablecloth.

RUDE MAN: All right girls [!!], now lift up all the stuff on the table! [i.e. so he could get the tablecloth on.]

Seriously. This had gone beyond exasperation. Or had it? - Sadly no, because compounding the atrocity of the service was the fact that a) they brought the wrong type of fish [I ordered plaice, they brought spotted catfish], b) the fish had an odd taste, like it was not quite fresh, c) the normally delicious lime-ade, which until now has been one of the best things about eating there, tasted like turpentine and was completely undrinkable. In fact, I still feel vaguely nauseous at the mere recollection.

And so. ICELANDIC FISH AND CHIPS has been awarded not one, but two thumbs down from the Iceland Weather Report, and shall henceforth be known as ICELANDIC POOR & SERVICE. Bleh!!

THE WEATHER
Has been gorgous these last few days. The grass is green, the flowers are in full bloom, the light is translucent. The Most Beautiful Place on Earth at this time of year if you ask me and no, I’m not biased at all. Current temps 11°C [52F], sunrise at 2:56 am, sunset at 12:02 am tomorrow.

National Day today. Whoo-hoo!! That’s right: this is the day when Iceland celebrates becoming its own Republic, declaring its independence from Denmark 63 years ago today. Do the math and you’ll discover this happened in 1944, just at the end of World War II, while Denmark was still busy being occupied by the Nazis. They barely noticed us waving goodbye.

As ever, the day started with a ceremony downtown - first the laying of a wreath in the colours of the national flag at the gravesite of independence leader Jón Sigurðsson, then formalities down on Austurvöllur square: speeches, the Prez laying another wreath, this time at the statue of Jón Sigurðsson [get the feeling we’re indebted?], and people standing around stoically while a men’s choir sung the National Anthem. The only person who wasn’t standing around stoically was our incomparable First Lady Dorrit Moussaieff, who married our President Ólafur a few years back and who has totally won over the hearts and minds of the nation. I could devote an entire post about how this woman has endeared herself to the Nicelandic populace, but for now suffice it to say that, while all our public officials and their spouses were busy standing around stoically while the men’s choir sang the National Anthem, Dorrit [who was born in Israel but holds a UK passport] stood there and sang along. In Icelandic. During this, her first National Day as a Nicelandic citizen. We’ll take more like her, please!

Anyway, watching all this I felt my wee Nicelandic heart swell with patriotic pride [although not patriotic enough to actually get up early and physically go down there - and anyway, you can see better on TV]. I can’t tell you how I love the feisty independence of this tiny nation [pop. 309,000 if you’ve just joined us], which since its bold shaking of a fist in the face of its imperial rulers has gone on to become one of the wealthiest countries in the world, with one of the highest standards of living. Seriously, I can get all weepy. I was talking about this to my cousin on the phone this morning and she said something about the importance of having ‘your own place on this earth on which to stand’ and I thought, ‘yeah, this is my very own place on the earth on which to stand’ - and I daresay I probably appreciate it a whole lot more than some people, because of course I passed many, many years in which I did not have ‘my own place on this earth on which to stand’, and I missed it terribly. But I digress.

EPI and I headed downtown around mid-afternoon, just to have a boo at the crowds and such [and snap a few photos]. Downtown Reykjavík was hopping - we met some people we knew, saw some weird things, and were vastly entertained by Wally the Clown, who claimed he was all the way from Australia, which is very strange because he definitely had a UK accent. Although methinks he probably earned a lot more dosh by claiming he had to buy a ticket back home to Australia, than by claiming he had to buy a ticket to the UK [which by now costs about the same as the fare from Reykjavík to Akureyri].

We ended by heading into this café [Vor, on Laugavegur] where we had cappucino and cake. When it came time to pay, YT was scandalized to discover that they actually added a 15 percent surcharge to our bill, because it was a national holiday. Have you ever heard of anything so absurd?? When I [very tactfully] voiced my objections, the waitress just looked at me and said coolly, ‘It’s a red day. They have to pay us all double’. Yeah? So? I mean - I would have thought they’d have made it up in excess business anyway, seeing as how it’s a national holiday. I mean, I know cabs charge more during times of high traffic - but cafés?? And in any case, isn’t it their choice to stay open or not? Boo!

Anyway, we went home and the girls came over for grilled hamburgers [except AAH, who was working, poor dear, but who is making up for it downtown as we speak - there are bands playing everywhere and people getting plastered], and while chowing down we watched Niceland beat Serbia 42:40 in handball on TV, thereby making it through to the European Championships. You’d better believe the collective patriotism practically blew the roof off the stadium - it was a home game. Huzzah!

And now I’d say it’s about time to quit because, well, tomorrow is just a regular old Monday. Temps currently 10°C [50F], sunrise was at 02.55, sunrise at 24.02.

Most heartwarming news item of last week: officials at Keflavík airport stopped a woman travelling from Paris to the US via our fair isle. The woman, who was confined to a wheelchair, was from Sri Lanka but carrying a Canadian passport, which aroused suspicion. While border control officials were off checking their records, the woman - who believed herself to be alone and unobserved - stood up and had a good, long stretch. D’oh!

She’s now resting comfortably at the women’s prison in Kópavogur.

WEATHER!
Still cool, cloudy and breezy - the sort of weather that does not easily lend itself to imagining oneself in the tropics, despite our best efforts. [If the sun was out, it would be a different story.] It’s set to stay this way tomorrow during our June 17 National Holiday celebrations [TIP: massive all-day party downtown, leave your wheelchair at home, if possible] - current temps 13°C [55F], sunrise was at 2:57 am, sunset due for 12:01 pm … oh, I see Yahoo Weather is all confused - it’s not 12.01 PM but AM. HAR! Guess their computers can’t compute that far.