Green Sky at Night, Quite a Delight...

So Monday night was Valentine's night, and I arranged a light show for my fellow interns to commemorate the day.  Of course, by "I" I mean the magnetic pull of the Earth's poles mixed with solar flares, by "arranged" I mean I was a lucky fool to witness, and by "light show" I mean the most ridiculously amazing natural thing I've probably ever seen in the sky (so I suppose that last description is still fairly valid).  I've seen the Northern Lights already on two or three occasions in the last month and a half, but never anything like this.  Before they were just faint wisps of green in the night sky; last night they were undulating streams of electric rain shooting across our entire field of vision and beyond, curling, waving, and pulsating before fading away again.  Definitely an encounter with the Sublime, one so powerful it would have knocked poor Wordsworth right out of his little paddleboat - the only thing we could do was slump to the ground and lie on our backs, mouths agape and appendages slowly numbing in the snow.  The Lights were so strong, you could actually hear them, a slight swishing now and then.  Much louder, and perhaps more atmospheric, was the fitful sound of the unseen horses left to pasture in the field behind our house.  The horses apparently didn't see the romantic side of this mesmerising display; I suppose if I were a horse, I'd have been a bit freaked out too.

Because the Lights were constantly moving, I wasn't able to get decent photos of them.  However, take two parts the photos below, one part the swirling waves from "The Sorcerer's Apprentice" in Fantasia (if your memory is failing you, see from 3:45 onwards here) and you should have the right idea.  If you really want to get authentic, mix in some uneasy horse whinnies and lie down in a pile of snow/ice for half an hour.

Since last we spoke (well, since I spoke; if this is a conversation I'm not being very equal with the discussion. That said, please do comment and discuss and revel in the new cultural pastime of blogmenting; Talk to me!) I've been to Reykjavik and back in one piece - although it was fairly touch and go at times - and we made a "class trip", so to speak, to Geysir, Gulfoss, and Þingvellir.  I won't bore you with the details of Reykjavik, but the other three are worth a mention.  

Þingvellir (pronounced "Thingvellir") was the site of the meeting of the Icelandic Parliament from 930 to 1789.  All the laws were discussed and decided there, so it's a very important place for Iceland's history.  It's also a hotbed of geothermal activity.  It sits on the continental drift between the North American and Eurasian Plates, and it's literally ripping at the seams.  Last week alone, they experienced something like 12 earthquakes there.  

The craic was mighty in Þingvellir...

Gulfoss is pretty self-explanatory when you see the pictures, but it's also pretty, hence the pictures.  

Geysir is even self-explanatory without pictures, but here are some anyway.  This geysir goes about every 7 minutes.  The larger one has been dormant for the past few years.  For a while they were able to prod it into activity by dumping loads of salt into it, but they gave that up after a while. 

Along with reading A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy and attempting to knit myself a pair of mittens, the discussions and debates that naturally arise when nine liberal-minded engaged people are put under the same roof are proving an interesting way to while away the Icelandic evenings.  Some of these conversations are less articulate than others; I have recollections of attempting to explain to Paulo how shareholders in a company work using cold, leftover chips as my medium after a decent amount of the cheapest wine we could find last week.  However, sharing insights and resources is always going to be valuable.  Thanks to Yvonne I've been watching Zeitgeist, which is a documentary that attempts to analyse the current malaise affecting humankind, addressing it from a cultural, religious, and financial standpoint.  I haven't finished it yet so I can't speak for it as a whole; what I can say is that it's free (you can watch it on YouTube or on the site) and that it raises some very good points.  I find its critique of corporate capitalism particularly interesting.  It's 2 hours and 41 minutes long, so if you're looking for something engaging to watch of an evening, I'd recommend it.  No indoctrination, no brainwashing.  Just have an open mind and you never know what it might inspire.  

~~~~~~

We're currently awaiting the potentially mind-blowing Northern Lights tonight, caused by the biggest solar flare in four years.  The only thing that might rain on our parade is the clouds (Sorry, couldn't resist...); last night was supposed to be even more spectacular than Monday, but there was nary a flicker seen through the foggy blanket.  We found our own spectacle, though - we went adventuring to an obscure natural hot pot, hidden away in the side of a mountain, nothing but a little snow-covered path off a dirt road (off a dirt road off a gravel road off a side road) and a No Camping sign to indicate its existence.  

On a night like last night, I can see why the Icelanders are so superstitious about elves.  There we were, sitting in volcanically heated water in what for all the world looked like a stone and peat-lined grave, surrounded on all sides by rolling hills bathed in eerie moonlight, the only sounds the trickling water and the howling wind.  So I did the only thing an able-minded, logical person would do: I sprinted out of the hot pot, soaking wet in the frigid wind, and dove back into the little hut we had put our clothes in to get my camera and take some pictures.   See if you can spot the elves.

The hardest part of hot-tubbing in Iceland is the entering and exiting.  As you're changing into your swimsuit, listening to the wind outside, you do question your sanity.  But once the barefoot speed-shuffle carries you to the water, you're grand.  You relax, forget about the whole thing, and turn to mush.  However, then comes the getting out bit.  It took a good 10 minutes to steel ourselves for the task.  When we all piled back into the little shed, we had to exercise our changing-in-the-dark-as-quickly-as-possible-before-hypothermia-onset talents (which I apparently do not possess, as I realised once we got home that the majority of my personal effects had been donned backwards and inside out.)  Despite its perils, it is always worth it, especially in as magical a setting as we were fortunate enough to enjoy last night.  Cheers, Mother Nature, you've done it again.

More photos here (also includes some pretty great Northern Lights shots from last week).

Re-gales in Reykjavik

Since I have only just been acquainted with Reykjavik, and the first meeting was under a compressed time frame and under the influence of sleep deprivation, it's perhaps a bit premature to publish my view of it.  However, since my opinion is already very favourable, I'm sure it won't mind too much...

Reykjavik is so small that it seems it shouldn't really be a capital city - the town centre is composed pretty much of just one main street and a high street.  But its quirky charm won me over; Reykjvavik can be whatever it wants to be, it's so lovely.  With peculiar bookshops and cafés nestled at nearly every corner, the only thing unwelcoming about the city was the 40 mph wind buffeting us around all day.  I arrived at the hostel around half 7 in the morning, and as soon as I got out of the van I was very glad I had brought a big poof of a jacket rather than opting for a more streamlined pile of layers - the wind here is seriously cold.  But, always the trooper, I persevered and spent the day walking around the city with three of the other interns.  Because none of us are able to pronounce the road names yet, never mind understand what they mean, once we familiarised ourselves with the area directions were then given using landmarks.  The two-headed lamb proved handy for this task.

Here's looking at ewe, kids...

There's still much to see on subsequent visits, but we were able to soak up Laugavegur (the main road in the city; the name means "Wash Road" because back in the day women would travel it with their washing to take to the hot springs), Hallgrímskirkja ("Church of Hallgrímur", Icelandic poet and clergyman; also the largest church in Iceland and a pretty cool structure, especially at night), and the Perlan ("The Pearl", home of the Saga museum and ridiculously strong winds on the observation deck).

Hallgrímskirkja. Yer man is Leif Eriksson, a thank you present from the US for having discovered them.

So far the best things for me were the oddities.  We stumbled upon this bookshop - we think it was a bookshop, though none of the books were priced - that was some sort of nostalgic shrine to a well-read communist childhood.  Besides the teetering piles of literally thousands  of books, there were old dolls perched here and there on top of book clusters, and quite a few faded framed portraits of Stalin.  If it was a personal collection then the owner didn't seem to mind us there; he remained behind his desk, hidden from view by a few towers of yellowed paperbacks, reading away.

Walking around the streets at night, the shop windows were all done up nicely as well.  Many are still decked out for Christmas as the festive season doesn't officially end here until the sixth of January, which is the twelfth night and the departure of the Yule Lads.  

We finished up the night in a pub called the "Dubliner" listening to an Icelandic man singing Beatles and Neil Young covers (yes, it was an Irish-themed pub, but the only reason we went there was for the live music), and I got to sample the local drink.  It's called Brennivín, or "Fire Wine", and it was introduced just after the Prohibition was lifted here in 1935.  I had heard warnings about the stuff - its nickname is svarti dauði or "Black Death"- and the snickers coming from the barstaff when I ordered it indicated that I was showing myself to be a very big tourist indeed, but I actually really liked the taste: a bit clovey and quite nice mixed with coke.  

Another pleasant surprise I had was with regard to the daylight.  At the moment Iceland gets around four hours of daylight, so I was expecting a lot of bleak trudging around in the darkness.  However, dawn and dusk both last about an hour each, which extends the amount light significantly; furthermore, they've both been breaktaking so far.  Imagine a particularly beautiful sunrise or sunset, now extend that by around three or four times the duration.  Not so bad after all, eh?  

Tomorrow we head to Sólheimar; check back in for the update on that!

More photos can be seen here.