MY ICELAND

In Icelandic lore, there are four nights a year when mystical, magical things happen: the night before Christmas, New Year’s Eve, Twelfth Night [January 6] and Midsummer Night – tonight.

Many amazing things are supposed to happen on this night. Magical stones may be found that will make your wishes come true. Various types of healing grasses and herbs can be picked, just on this night. Cows gain the ability to speak – but if you do hear them, you must cover your ears, because anyone who listens in on their talk goes mad.* Also, the dew is very intense on this night, and it is said that if you roll around in it naked, you will be healed of whatever ails you, and will not become ill for an entire year afterwards.

Apparently it’s a common theme in Icelandic folklore that whenever something transgresses any sort of whole, some sort of threatening situation is initiated. Under such circumstances all sorts of forces are released, both good and bad, and things attain special, heightened powers [as in the magical stones, dew, etc.]. This applies, for example, when one process is complete and another begins, such as on the stroke of midnight, when a year is complete [on New Year’s Eve] and when the sun reaches its zenith in the sky, during Midsummer Night.**

IT’S A GREAT NIGHT FOR ROLLING AROUND NAKED
Although not sure you’d want to do it in the dew, cuz you’d freeze your butt. The light is magical, at any rate - right now at almost 11 pm the sun casts a gorgeous gold hue and there’s not a cloud in the sky. It’s 11°C [52F], sunrise this morning was at 2.56 and sunset here in the capital will be at 12.03 tomorrow.

* Perhaps they use Google translator.
** Nicked from the Icelandic Science Web.

[This post is filed under MY ICELAND.]

A few years ago, a new jewellery design studio appeared like a breath of fresh air on the Icelandic design scene. At the time, modern Icelandic jewellery design was hopelessly fixated on rocks that were set in convoluted metal shapes that I can’t imagine would have looked flattering on anybody. Enter Aurum, who brought light, airy and feminine designs that were totally enchanting while also being cool and sophisticated. Every time I passed their shop in Bankastræti I used to stop and gaze through the window at their collection, and dream. This was SO what I thought beautiful jewellery should look like. Especially on me.

Here in Iceland it’s traditional for a newly-married couple to give each other gifts the morning after their wedding, and when we got married a couple of years ago in Toronto, EPI pulled out a present that he’d remembered to buy just before we left Niceland [as opposed to YT, who had no prezzie, boo]. It was a beautiful package, and turned out to contain a bracelet from Aurum.

Isn’t it beautiful? The thing I love about it is its flowing movement; it’s never static since the little silver pieces move along the thin wires, thereby changing the shape of the bracelet.

Later that same year, EPI got me the rest of the set for Christmas. The necklace:

… and the earrings:

Only at that point did we realize that this particular line of Aurum jewellery is called – what else? – ALDA. All the lines have Icelandic women’s names, and of course ‘alda’ means ‘wave’, which obviously echoes the shape of the little silver pieces. The other women’s names also echo the different designs – ‘Fold’, for example, means ‘earth’, ‘Dögg’ means ‘dew’, and so on – which to me is another delightful feature of their designs. So obviously it was meant for me, from the start - it already had my name on it.

WE’RE EXPERIENCING SUCH INCREDIBLE SUMMERTIME WEATHER

Everything is so lush and green right now. At the moment we have exquisite sunshine – the kind that makes the Nicelanders instantly whip off their clothes and pretend they’re in Spain, or somewhere. [I used to laugh about it – but no more because I totally do it too.] It’s 12°C [54F] at the moment with just a light breeze; sunrise this morning was at 3.02 am and sunset is due in a few minutes, at 11.54 pm.

[This post is filed under MY ICELAND.]

Make no mistake: despite its many remarkable accomplishments, the Nicelandic nation is seriously afflicted with small-nation complex. And nowhere does this complex manifest as clearly as in its obsession with the Eurovision Song Contest.

For those who don’t know, Eurovision is a pan-European contest organized by the national broadcasting services in each of the nations, that has been running since the 1950s or thereabouts. The object is to choose the best originally composed and performed song. Whereas it started off with some semblance of dignity, today most people would agree that essentially a cheesy campfest of mediocre pop songs. It’s nonetheless become one of the most popular televised events of the year, probably second only to the Áramótaskaup – the annual parody of the year’s main news events that is broadcast on New Year’s Eve. It is during those two broadcasts that the streets of Reykjavík are virtually empty of people.

That is, of course, presuming that Iceland is taking part in Eurovision. Europe’s expansion over the past few years has necessitated a few changes to the contest, most notably in that there are now semi-finals preceding the finals, and this year, for the first time, there were two semi-finals. Also, in the past few years, the ‘new’ European nations have seemed as eager as the small-nation-complex nations to prove their worth on the European stage and have pulled out all the stops with their songs. There has been a great deal of disgruntlement around alleged rigged voting … the results are arrived at through televoting and certain ‘related’ nations [Greece and Cyprus, Germany and Turkey*, former Eastern Bloc nations, e.g.] tend to vote for each other, although whether this may be attributed to foul play or simply a similar taste in music remains undetermined.

The closest Iceland has come to winning the Eurovision Song Contest [despite the perpetual predictions that THIS YEAR IT IS IN THE BAG] was in 1999, when Selma Björnsdóttir landed in second place after a thrilling toe-to-toe with Sweden, switching first and second places almost all the way through the voting. In 2004, the first year in which there were semi-finals, Niceland once again sent Selma Björnsdóttir, convinced that our shining Eurovision knight[ess] would bring home the trophy this time. Those annoying semi-finals were just a formality, Selma would fly through them … and much to everyone’s amazement, she didn’t. [But naturally rigged voting among the former Eastern Bloc nations was to blame.] Incidentally, this was not the first time that the Icelandic nation was filled with stunned disbelief that our contestant did not win Eurovision – it happens with alarming regularity.

Meanwhile, a couple of years ago Iceland reached new and unexplored heights in its Eurovision quest for winning by sending old Silvía Nótt [remember her?]** as its representative. In YT’s opinion, Silvía Nótt provided some of the most stellar entertainment in the history of Eurovision, particularly offstage, but very clearly I was in a minority there, as Silvía Nótt is probably the most hated contestant in Eurovision history.

This year, after the looonnnggg and excruciating winter-long process of choosing a song, Iceland finally settled on the somewhat inanely dubbed ‘Euroband’, with a disco-charged song called This Is My Life. The Euroband is fronted by two reasonably well-known singers here, who were probably most aptly described by one little girl, asked on TV to give her take after watching footage of them performing, who earnestly remarked, “They’re like a Barbie boy and his mother.” The song received a drab response among most people … and yet last Thursday the Euroband actually managed what no Icelandic contestant has managed before – they totally aced it out of the semi-finals and into the finals, which – oh did I fail to mention this? – are on this evening. And despite my reservations about the song, the Barbie looks and whathaveyou, I have to give them this: they completely deserved it because they gave 110% to their performance and totally kicked ass!

So you can bet that YT will be sitting in front of the tube this evening and cheering them on. Because when all is said and done, I’m a small-nation-complex girl at heart.

LOOKING BEAUTIFUL OUT THERE!

The sun is peeking out occasionally, and there’s a slight wind which is OK because it’s mild. And just so you know: I had fabulous weather while on my mini-retreat and actually managed to get a bit of a tan***, heheh. On this special Eurovision day we have 12°C [54F] and sunrise this morning was a 3.44 am, sunset due for 11.07 pm.

* On account of the large Turkish population in Germany

** Ágústa Eva, the woman behind Silvía Nótt, appeared on the Icelandic National Broadcasting Service last year and announced that Silvía Nótt was no more, and now has some stellar turns on a weekly talk show called Svalbarði, in which she sings with the house band and performs in various skits – check her out in this video, particularly around 5.0 minutes – especially hilarious if you speak Icelandic!

*** OK, freckles, mostly.

Almost everybody knows about the Icelandic Sagas – the epic tales of Vikings and kings that were so eloquently recorded in Iceland in the 12th and 13th centuries and which still physically exist today in the form of our manuscripts, most of whom are preserved at the Culture House here in Reykjavík. As many readers will know, the literary tradition is still very much alive in Iceland – this country sells more books per capita than any other country, and there is zero illiteracy. Iceland is a nation of storytellers, and one of the most amazing things about travelling in this country are the incredible stories associated with virtually every patch of ground in this country.

EPI and I belong to a hiking group, and each year we explore a new part of Iceland – generally places off the beaten track. This year we’re going to Skagafjörður, staying in a small village called Hofsós [where the Emigration Centre is located] and during our trip we’ll be sailing out to an island called Drangey, which features very dramatically in the story known as Grettis Saga, which EPI re-told me the other day in anticipation of our journey.

Grettir Ásmundarson was a warrior known for his exceptional strength, who murdered a bunch of people and was consequently outlawed. He became famous for wrestling with and defeating a certain ghost named Glámur had been making the lives of some farm folk utterly miserable. This ghost was more like a walking corpse – a zombie. He would show up every night after dark, first wreaking havoc all around the farmhouse, banging and rattling and generally being a massive pain in the ass, after which he would throw open the door, grab the person nearest the door, and mangle them to death. So Grettir decided he would sleep next to the door the first night following his arrival. The ghost shows up and starts banging on the house and rattling everything and generally scaring the sh*t out of the farm folk, after which he throws open the door and makes for the first person there [which of course was Grettir]. However, amazingly, when the ghost went to tear off the skin [as in animal skin] beneath which the person [Grettir] was sleeping, the skin wouldn’t budge. Grettir was hanging on beneath it. So the ghost pulled and pulled, until crafty old Grettir suddenly let go, the ghost was flung against the wall, and Grettir pounced on him. A horrible fight ensued, during which Grettir managed to grab hold of him below the waist and snapped his spine, then fell on top of him and pinned him against the ground. At which the ghost said to him, “Look into my eyes.” Grettir knew he shouldn’t because everyone who looked into the ghost’s eyes went mad; however, at just that moment the moon appeared from behind a cloud and he found himself staring into the eyes of the ghost, and they were utterly terrifying. And from that moment on, Grettir became terrified of the dark.

Anyway, after being outlawed, Grettir escaped to the aforementioned island known as Drangey, in Skagafjörður. It has sheer cliffs rising straight up from the water and was virtually like a fortress because it was impossible to get up those cliffs undetected. Because Grettir was so afraid of the dark, he got his brother Illugi to go to Drangey with him to keep him company. This was fine for a while, until one day their fire went out. According to the lore, Grettir swam not only from Drangey back to the mainland [which was considered virtually impossible] but also all the way back with the fire lit.

Eventually Grettir’s enemies got the best of him when they got an old sorceress to put a spell on a tree root and float it out to the island. Grettir – who was desperate for firewood – went to pick it up, but for some reason the root wouldn’t budge. So he got out his axe and went to chop it in two, but [on account of the spell] the axe turned in his hand and hit him in the leg, injuring him severely. He managed to survive, but was not able to recover his strength, and before long his enemies organized a raid on Drangey. A fierce battle ensued between Illugi, Grettir and the attackers, at which time Grettir was felled.

So anyway, we’re going out to Drangey this summer for a bit of exploration. [I’ll be sure to steer clear of any roots.] And speaking of stories: EPI’s grandfather was the first man after Grettir’s alleged feat to swim out to Drangey. Many people considered the story of Grettir fiction because they said there was no way you could swim all that way in the freezing cold sea. EPI’s grandfather begged to differ and proved that a real human being actually could. Since then, this particular swim, called Drangeyjarsund, has been undertaken many times in Iceland, but it’s still considered a major feat. ~ Incidentally, EPI’s great-grandfather taught the Icelandic nation how to swim, something I wrote about here a while back. Which no doubt accounted for his son’s exceptional swimming abilities.

TODAY’S WEATHER

Cloudy, a bit damp and chilly, moderate winds. Everything is so GREEN all of a sudden – in the space of about a week it’s been TRANSFORMED. Went to check out some things at the Reykjavík Arts Fest today, including Dr. Ruth’s ‘performance’ such as it was and a nekkid woman riding a Nicelandic horse, … alas, so much to write about, so little time! Right now we have 8°C [46F] sunrise at 4:02 am, sunset 10:48 pm.

* Not, you may note, ‘The Sagas’ because I’m really badly informed. Icelandic children read them in schools, whereas YT in her Canadian incarnation read Shakespeare. Virtually all I know about the Sagas is gleaned from cultural references and EPI’s enthusiasm for them and fabulous storytelling abilities.

A couple of months ago, when I was feeling a bit directionless in terms of this blog, I sat down and had a good long think about what I wanted to do. It seemed to me that I’d become increasingly removed from my original intent when I started, i.e. to write about what it is like to live up on this little North Atlantic rock known as Niceland. While my guiding principle has always been to post whatever I need to rant I’m enthusiastic about at any given time [which obviously accounts for the broad subject matter in this space] I still felt like I needed, not only a focus for myself, but also some sort of middle ground where the increasing number of Icelandophiles who read this blog could find something to their liking.

Enter my new idea. Every week or so I’m going to post a regular item called MY ICELAND, in which I feature something that I feel is quintessentially Nicelandic. It might be an object, a custom, a quality … it may be something that makes me nostalgic, like things I used to pine for when I lived abroad, it might just be something that people who live here – including me – take completely for granted, but which nonetheless is unique to this culture. This will be filed under its own MY ICELAND category, accessible to any existing or future readers. And – for the record – it will be completely subjective, meaning I won’t be posting the things that other people consider THEIR ICELAND, although, as always, I encourage your input in the comments section, or via email.

AND SO, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO…

My first piece of Iceland is this:

I ask you: is there any other country where the flight crew addesses the passengers over the loudspeakers with: Góðir farþegar, velkomin heim [Dear passengers, welcome home], as soon as the plane has landed? Something about that gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling every time. Perhaps the emotional significance I attach to it is a throwback to all the years when I lived abroad but felt uprooted and displaced. I don’t recall ever hearing another Icelander comment on this and would, in fact, be really interested in your input [- á íslensku ef það er auðveldara]. In any case it was always such a great feeling to land in Iceland and hear those words – welcome home – even though at the time Iceland wasn’t my home and hadn’t been for years and I had no conscious intention of making it home. It was sort of like a warm embrace. Home.

Of course when you look beyond that, you see that the significance of this little custom is inextricably tied to the Icelandic language. It assumes that if you understand Icelandic – a language spoken by so few people – you’re automatically home, with your tribe. Which is why so many people always cite the language as the major defining aspect of being Icelandic – the language defines us, as a nation. But that’s a subject for another post, perhaps.

MEANWHILE, IT IS OVERCAST AND BLUSTERY

With the odd showers, but relatively mild temps. We’re in the midst of a long holiday weekend here [Whitsun – what’s it about? – haven’t a clue] and I expect a lot of people bailed on camping and the outdoors on account of the weather, opting instead for cleaning out the garage and such. We’ve opted for a dinner party [my eldest stepdaughter finished her VERY LAST EXAM OF MEDICAL SCHOOL last Thursday [!!!] and is off to Bali in a couple of days to celebrate with her co-students]; temps right now are 10°C [50F] and sunrise was at 4.25 am, sunset scheduled for 10:25 pm.