Sólheimar, House of the Sun

After a whirlwind one-day jaunt in Reykjavik, we were off to Sólheimar, ready to get our hands dirty.  We arrived on Wednesday morning, had induction for two days, and began our respective internships on Friday.  For the moment I'm working on the online marketing side of things (can't seem to get away from it...), getting the organisation linked up to Facebook, YouTube, etc.  After next week I'll be working in the Forestry programme, although still not entirely sure what that will entail.  I get the impression it will be more raising baby trees than lumberjacking.  Which, although I'm much happier to be planting trees than cutting them down, in a way is a pity; I stocked up on plaid shirts and suspenders in anticipation...

The journey from Reykjavik to Selfoss, the nearest town to Sólheimar, is worth a mention, as it involved the most beautiful, surreal sunrise I've ever seen.  Take a bit of the landscape of the Moon, mix in artistic renditions of life on Mars, and add the second part of Pink Floyd's "Echoes" as the soundtrack, and you'll probably have the right idea.  On either side of the road the rough landscape was in shadow, broken only by puddles of ice that reflected the growing light in the sky.  In front of us was a mountain range, and behind it the sun was beginning to rise.  The sun itself we wouldn't see for another hour, so the ever-intensifying pink, then yellow, then orange hues had an unfamiliar, ethereal quality to them.  We were flanked to our left by a line of rocky foothills, and dotted along these were smoldering geysers.  The plumes of steam rolled up through the air, and the stench of rotten eggs followed a few moments later.  As we travelled towards the mountain we travelled towards the sun, and when we reached the top of the slope the view cut away to the valley below, to a town completely bathed in this sunless light (for those following along at home, 3:35 suits nicely for this purpose).  We wound down the other side, a few last billowing geysers here and there, and through the valley on our way to Selfoss.

As for Sólheimar itself, I've very much enjoyed getting to know the other 9 interns over the past few days.  We're quite an international bunch: 3 from Portugal, 2 from Germany, 2 from the UK, 1 from Belgium, 1 from Canada, and myself, and we also share the house with a man from Chile.  This makes for some very interesting multilingual conversations/confusion, especially because we're all trying to learn Icelandic as well.  We're all getting on very well though, lots of group meals and weird games to while away the long Icelandic evenings.

Home Sweet Home

As I mentioned before, the 12th night of Christmas (The Epiphany) is a big event here, and Sólheimar pulled out all the stops for it.  Most places around the country cancelled their ceremonies as a result of the strong winds that day, but Sólheimar decided to soldier on, and Matt, the environmental scientist from the UK, and I were tasked with lighting the candles to line the path up to the field where the ceremony was to be held.  This proved to be an exercise in futility, and a very cold one at that.  By the end of a frustrating and wax-encrusted hour, we were ready to call it a night.  However, when we re-entered the hall where everyone was getting prepared, we were whisked away to get costumes and face-paint.  The ceremony involves dressing up like one of the Yule Lads or their troll parents and celebrating the end of Christmas around a bonfire.  And so I donned wig and face-paint (I'm pretty sure I ended up being a troll, though it was all a bit unclear), as well as all the fuzzy fake fur I could find in the hopes of keeping warm.  We processed up the hill (a very skilfully-lit hill, might I add) behind a drummer and a line of torches to the bonfire.  The scene was pretty stunning, the last traces of sunset draining from the sky and a crescent moon alongside. (Bonfire photos courtesy of Hazel.)

The man with the top-hat tied to his head is the chef - "the most important man in Sólheimar", as he refers to himself.

They then proceeded to sing songs in Icelandic (we the interns proceeded to mime along), and set off fireworks.  This was followed by a hasty retreat down the hill and a bowl of hot soup at the end of it all.  A very odd, enjoyable evening.  

But wait, there's more!  Paulo, the biologist from Portugal, has been religiously checking the skies every couple of hours each night for any sign of the Northern Lights, and late on Thursday we got lucky.  It may have been -15°C, but man oh man was it worth it.  They were a bit faint as far as the Northern Lights go, but they were still a sight to behold.  Eerie, silent, and completely mystifying; a sight I never thought I'd really get to see in person.  After a few minutes of jaw-agape staring, I ran in for a make-shift tripod - a chair and a bag of flour - and so was able to get a few shots before they started to fade away.

Look for the shooting star towards the lower right.

So that was pretty ridiculously cool.  Northern Lights, one to check off the list.  For more photos, check here.  Stop by again soon (hoping to update at least once a week) for more tales of the unknown in the Land of Ice!