Reykjavik Bacon Festival

This is Iceland. It likes to party. 

Whether it be the packed bars and clubs every weekend, the seemingly bazillion work holidays off, BBQs in the middle of winter, the enormous downtown-closing celebrations that are peppered throughout the year, or, you now, a big, fat, awesome festival devoted to bacon. Yep. Bacon. It was beautiful. The sinful aromas of bacon inspired dishes wafted through the sea of happy people as bacon fell from the skies. Literally. They threw bacon attached to little parachutes off the tops of buildings. Yep. Delicious parachute bacon. Oh, did I mention the festival was partly sponsored by the hospital's cardiovascular association? Iceland FTW.

We sampled around 6 different dishes and left completely packed full of salty, fatty, artery clogging goodness. Not a bad way to spend an afternoon.

A Study in Vikings

This weekend is the annual viking festival in Hafnarfjörður.

To be honest, I wasn't really enthusiastic about going and I only went because I felt obligated. It's the biggest viking festival in Iceland after all and it's just down the street. No matter how cheesy it sounded (come on people, it's put on by a local viking-themed hotel for crying out loud), these things are exactly what I'm here to experience. So I semi-begrudgingly grabbed my camera with 35mm lens attached and went. I became even less excited when I arrived and had to pay 800 kr. (about $6.50!) to get in.

What a tourist trap. As a wold traveler, I am above this. (Smug, much?)

Then I walked in... and within 30 seconds I had a big fat stupid smile on my face that didn't leave until hours later when I finally left.

(pwnd)

It's not very big, and there are definitely some stereotypical campy elements, but I gotta say I geeked out a little. Maybe it's because I'm sort of in my Game of Thrones phase right now, or because I idolized Guinevere and the Lady of Shalot as a little girl (only to suppress that nerdy side of me to make it through middle school unscathed... or at least less scathed), or simply because there is something primally interesting about bearded men doing manly things like blacksmithing, but I have to admit I really liked suspending reality for a little bit as I browsed through the market and people watched.

Thinking I wasn't going to be taking many pictures, I left my 200mm prime lens at home. It's my usual lens of choice in situations like these because I can stand away from the crowds and still get a good candid (read: stalking like a creeeeper), but with only my 35mm it meant I had to actually interact in close contact with people to take pictures. As much as I avoid it, this is a good practice I don't make myself do often enough.

Oh hey, Winterfell (amiright?).

This isn't a very good picture, but look at that dude's leg tattoos!

This guy rubbed fire all over his body... and then put it down his pants. Huh.

What a great face on this old man.

Ugh. Little vikings are so cute.

The hair was strong with these ones.

I ended up going home to grab my 200mm later, but by the time I went back the festival, it was starting to wind down in that location and there wasn't much left to photograph except these intriguing looking bones roasting over an open fire.

I dunno, I might just find my way back there again before it's over. 

A Guide to Icelandic Weather

Today is Sumardagurinn Fyrsti, or, the first day of summer in Iceland. It's a national holiday held every year on the first Thursday after April 18th (or the second Thursday after April 11th, depending on who you ask). It's based off an old traditional Icelandic calendar which only had two seasons (winter and summer), and is modernly celebrated with gifts, parades, sporting events, happiness, and this year... little snow flurries in between blue sky.

Although I'm used to Utah's bipolar weather, I think Iceland wins in dramatics. I've seen it change from bright and sunny to blizzardy snow six times in one day before. Six! Times!

Exhibit A - These are two photos I snapped about 5 hours apart yesterday (full disclosure, it got even snowier than the first photo and even prettier than the second photo):

Y u so cray cray, Islensku?

But have no fear, dear reader, for I have a few rad protips to help you survive the cluster eff that is Icelandic weather (at least for months February-April since that's how long I've been here... you're on your own for the rest of the time).

ICELAND PROTIPS - WHAT TO WEAR

• Layers, so very many layers. And have a bag big enough to put said layers in as you need to.
• Something windproof and waterproof is a must. I wear a Merrell Wakefield coat which has served me well for the $100 I paid for it off the bargin rack last summer.
• Warm scarves save lives. Maybe not lives, but at least necks, chins, and lower ears from being too chilly. Plus they add a pleasant bundledy-up feeling.
• Those who sweater together beat the weather. This is not a real saying, but sweaters are really recommended when in Iceland.
• A hood, hat, buff, or some over head warming device. If I could change anything about my coat, it would be a bigger hood with fur or fur-like substance around the edges. The wind here rips your face off and hoods are the number one prevention of this. Plus if you have a cool fur lined hood you can pretend you're a wilding from Game of Thrones.
• Waterproof shoes. Iceland is puddly.
• Three words: fleeced lined leggings. Oh baby.
• Cozy socks that don't look too stupid. You always take your shoes off in people's homes, so just remember that when you go for your holy of holies in the back of the drawer.
• And lastly my sweet friend Björg summed it up perfectly when she told me "If you don't like the weather, wait 5 minutes!". 

Gleðilegt sumar, everyone! Bless bless!

Easter in Akureyri

I apologize for the delay, dear readers, for 7 days ago I journeyed to where no raven dare fly. I only pray this raven reaches you in an acceptable time, though I know my hopes are dwindling. I have returned from my festive travels north of the Wall and lived to tell the tale, but I dare say to brace yourselves, for it is not worthy of the faint of heart. 

Translation for those of you who still possess your lives and souls because you didn't give in to nerdy peer pressure (yet): For the Easter holiday, my host family let me accompany them to Akureyri (and the surrounding areas) where we had a simply delightful time.

(And where I was not... not... pretending to be in Westeroes the whole time...)

It was truly a gift to see more of (breathtaking) Iceland on our drive there, around, and back, and I spent much of my time staring out the car window quietly while my visual cortex exploded with ecstasy. I have to admit I'm not one to take a lot of photos through car windows, and therefore have most of the stunning imagery left imprinted in my brain and not pixels to share, but I did take a couple elsewhere in Akureyri.

The cute street of colorful houses our flat was on.

The church.

"The heart is a muscle" is the ironic phrase that entered my mind when taking this photo.

Akureyri from our side of town.

Across the fjord.

One of my favorite places we went was tiny little town called Fjallabyggð, which I can safely calculate is the most north I've ever been on Earth (though to my disappointment, I still didn't find John Snow). I didn't realize how little time I'd have to take pictures here, so I hope to go back and do it proper justice one day. For now you get a half-done panorama (ain't nobody got time for that) and a wee little boat.

Easter in Iceland is a pretty big holiday, so big in fact it's celebrated over 2 days. What? You've never heard of second Easter? Pfft. Although they know nothing of a the (slightly creepy) easter bunny, everyone does receive big chocolate eggs full of candy and toys (me included, thanks H, SJ, R, and S!).

I thought a lot about Alex during this trip, obviously because of Easter, but probably more because Akureyri reminded me a lot of Interlaken, Switzerland-- a stop we made while on a very emotionally complicated backpacking trip through Europe 6 months before he died. Even now I'm still not used to him really being gone. Will that thought ever cease to take my breath away? The only thing to soothe my shriveled heart in these moments are the funny memories that tenderly pop into my head of the life we lived together. I know these are a personalized gift of comfort from him, and the very things that keep us connected in our temporarily different existences.