August 22, 2010
There’re lots of sheep. Many cats. In the city, men walk very small dogs (“murse dogs”?) with no sense of embarrassment or irony. It was days before we saw a real medium-sized dog (English shepherd).
Lots of horses. The horses are short, sweet, gorgeous, and friendly, with the longest, thickest hair. It’s a wonder they see anything, their manes are always in their eyes.
Icelanders build very unique churches. The churches are edgy and experimental and fun, like architectural fights of fancy. Hmm, what could we do and still have it recognizably a church? The design and treatment of churches is so playful it’s almost as if they’re mocking Christianity, but I don’t think that’s the case.
They also like their sculpture. Sculptures are everywhere, weird, abstract, and usually substantial. There isn’t much that’s wispy in Iceland at all. Even the people are substantial.
They build with imported wood or else concrete, and clad everything in stucco or corrugated iron.
There aren’t any biting insects. No snakes. No predatory animals. This is an indescribable difference coming from hiking and camping in Canada, where you have to always consider a variety of other beasts that could want to get into your food. Here, none. Food in the tent, no problem.
There’s not many warning signs. There’re no shoulders on the roads. Even on “highways”, people just stop in the middle of the road for many reasons, such as to chat with other drivers. Seeing as there’re no shoulders, this is reasonable. They don’t have flag-people to control road construction. Very few police. There aren’t restrooms, or “WC”s, as they’re called here, provided at designated rest areas. Public garbage cans are few and far between. What there is a hell of a lot of, is high expectations of everyone’s common sense, self-governing, and self-reliance.
Icelanders have an amazing mastery of English. They all speak Icelandic and often Danish too, but they don’t miss a beat in English. What I notice is the way their English is up-to-date. Current slang and colloquialisms and perfect understanding of double-entendre and metaphor in English, which represents to me a powerful knowledge of the language, yet English could not sound more different than Icelandic. We heard teenagers flipping back and forth in the same conversation, but there seems to be no protective guarding of the “cultural identity”, of the kind I associate with French Canada. Only 300 000 people speak Icelandic (more ex-pats), but they don’t act as if their language needs vigorous preservation. There’s no need for us to learn any Icelandic, although being able to read it would be helpful. In fact, it usually works out better if I don’t try to pronounce the names of towns or food.
Food. Well, there’s a challenge. For once I would really like to be able to feed myself in a foreign country without feeling like I’m constantly foraging. I’ve become accustomed to organic produce, juice, and snacks everywhere, and here, you’re lucky to find two vegetables to rub together. Apparently the population lives on hot dogs and ice cream cones, which they eat in the rain, in the cold, in the night. How does an ice cream cone hit the spot at 11:45pm in the rain? I don’t know how they all don’t weigh 200lbs.
It’s frighteningly expensive. Laundry is notably difficult to find, and I spent, willingly, $16 on one load of washing.
The first phone book we saw was like a precious artifact (and there are cartoons on every page). Oh, and everyone is listed by their first name, and yes, the prime minister is in the phone book.
The women spend hours on their makeup but none on their hair, which is usually long and blond and always looks like it’s just unbraided or else wind-beaten.
Much is made of Icelandic fashion and beauty but I’ve been struck by neither, although there is clearly a keen and competitive edge of trend. They’re all wearing tight jeans and leggings with heels or boots, with dangly earrings, just like at home. The difference is the ubiquitous scarf around the neck or Icelandic sweater. The Icelandic sweater crosses all style and age and genre boundaries. I watched a grandma pass a self-consciously stylish young woman watching a punk/metal singer performing. All three were wearing the exact same design of sweater and none even glanced at the others. Sweaters were out in force on Culture night.
There are hardly any gyms, ie. places to work out, and being “big” doesn’t seem to be at all desirable for men. The fashionable men seem to aspire to be as skinny as possible, if anything. Nary a ball cap in sight. There is an awful lot of blondness and fair skin and the people are beautiful and definitely “Icelandic”, but I’ve only occasionally seen “striking” beauty.
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