I just looked out the window, and it's not completely dark yet. The sun is below the horizon but there's still an orange glow. The time is twenty past eleven in the evening. It hasn't snowed for a few days. On Friday I'll be finished with all my final assessments for university. Summer is most certainly on its way!
Election night
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| Don't trust this man. |
It seems having experienced an election using this voting system, I now understand proportional representation. It's definitely cool that your vote actually counts so much more under this system. My friends can vote for the Pirate Party, a party that ended up with around 5% of the vote, and they didn't throw those votes away, they're actually represented in the new government. It would be a miracle if that happened in the UK, the voting system just doesn't allow for it.
The only trouble then is that you've got a coalition government, which is generally less efficient than a majority government for obvious reasons. But overall I think I'm coming round to the idea of proportional representation. I'm not sure whether it would work in Britain - it would radically change the political landscape, that's for sure. The Liberal Democrats and the Green Party would be a much stronger presence. Unfortunately it would also offer the best chance for less desirable fringe parties to get people into parliament (BNP, UKIP). It's tricky.
Edit: Apparently the new Prime Minister will actually be Sigmundur Davíð Gunnlaugsson, leader of Framsókn and not Bjarni Benediktsson. I am not sure how they worked this out, since it seems like both parties will have the same number of seats in the Alþingi.
Edit: Apparently the new Prime Minister will actually be Sigmundur Davíð Gunnlaugsson, leader of Framsókn and not Bjarni Benediktsson. I am not sure how they worked this out, since it seems like both parties will have the same number of seats in the Alþingi.
Spring and politics
April is here and I think winter is well on the way out. It did snow just a little yesterday, but we've had some very warm and pleasant days recently also. I am busy working on various final projects at university, doing a little paid translation as well, and following the run-up to the elections here.
Some of my friends and acquaintances are actually on the lists this election, for the Icelandic Pirate Party, which was doing rather well but has been having a little PR trouble recently. I don't really follow Icelandic politics too closely, but elections are always exciting even if you can't vote in them. So I've been getting to know the different parties a little. So far I have ascertained that Bjarni Ben is probably some sort of space lizard, and I will certainly never be voting for Sjálfstæðisflokkurinn if I ever become an actual Icelandic citizen. I don't know who I would vote for if I did have a vote for this one, probably the Pirates or Vinstri Grænir... but I haven't actually done the research. Luckily I don't have to worry too much about it; as a disenfranchised útlendingur I am no more than an observer with no moral duty to make an informed decision.
Some of my friends and acquaintances are actually on the lists this election, for the Icelandic Pirate Party, which was doing rather well but has been having a little PR trouble recently. I don't really follow Icelandic politics too closely, but elections are always exciting even if you can't vote in them. So I've been getting to know the different parties a little. So far I have ascertained that Bjarni Ben is probably some sort of space lizard, and I will certainly never be voting for Sjálfstæðisflokkurinn if I ever become an actual Icelandic citizen. I don't know who I would vote for if I did have a vote for this one, probably the Pirates or Vinstri Grænir... but I haven't actually done the research. Luckily I don't have to worry too much about it; as a disenfranchised útlendingur I am no more than an observer with no moral duty to make an informed decision.
Esja II
The weather was good today! Sunshine for the first time in ages and a balmy 5°. So we went to climb Esja, which was much more snowy than the last time I went up. We didn't nenn all the way to the top, because of the snow and the wind, but we made it to Steinn. Here are some lovely pictures:
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| Photo face at the bottom. |
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| Me on Steinn. |
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| Mountains, Gandalf. |
A couple of misconceptions regarding Icelandic folklore
So after having lived here a while and seen a variety of stuff catering to the tourist market (fun facts about Iceland and suchlike), a couple of things are particularly starting to stand out as bollocks.
Firstly, you may well have been told that there are "thirteen Santa Clauses" in Iceland. There are precisely no Santa Clauses in Iceland. What is interesting is that Iceland has maintained a rather different (although admittedly obviously related) folk tradition. The jólasveinar, or Yule Lads if you like, are indeed thirteen, and they do come and leave presents for children. But they do not live at the North Pole in a magical toy workshop staffed by elves or travel around on a magic sleigh pulled by flying reindeer, so not really sure why people would say that they are multiple Father Christmases. They are supposedly the mischievous sons of Grýla, a monstrous troll woman who lives in the mountains and carries off naughty children in a sack (although parents tend not to threaten their children in this manner these days). Each of the thirteen days leading up to Christmas, one of the Yule Lads comes down from the mountains and leaves a little present in children's shoes. This sounds like it must be an absolute pain for Icelandic parents, although probably no more a pain than doing a Christmas stocking. They all have names like Spoon-Licker and Door-Slammer and each is supposed to make mischief and trouble according to his name, although I don't think this features much in how people actually behave at Christmas, I think it's mostly about the presents. In the thirteen days after Christmas they leave again, one by one. Nowadays you will see people dressed in red and white with the beard and everything, who are supposed to be jólasveinar, and I think it's a bit sad that this old Icelandic folklore is being morphed into the Anglo-American traditions.
You may also have heard that Icelanders believe in elves. I won't lie, I was hoping that this would be true. But it really isn't, although it probably was in the 19th century. I have not met a single modern Icelander who professes to believe in elves. Of course there are mentallers in every country, so you can find a few in the media, but you'd probably find plenty of people in every country who believed in elves if you did some sort of survey. Elves are an interesting part of Icelandic folklore, but people don't really believe in folklore these days any more than we do in Britain. Incidentally, they are nothing like the Tolkien elves. They are just like normal, middle-class 19th-century (since that is when they first appeared in illustrations, that's the only reason) farming folk, except they are usually invisible and live in rocks.
Acclimatisation
This morning, noting with relief that yesterday's insane blizzard had entirely abated, not even leaving that much snow on the ground, I checked vedur.is. Oh, thank god it's warmed up again, I thought. It's 2°.
I can remember a time when I thought that 4° was intolerably cold. Although I suppose everything's relative. When you've spent the past three days at -6°, battling through an icy wind that gets through all your clothes and makes it feel more like -12°, and you opened the curtains yesterday, but it didn't work because they were completely coated in ice and snow, I think it's understandable if 2° and not much wind is starting to look pretty cosy. Go away, winter!
Universities in Britain and Iceland
I've only been to one university in Britain (University of Sheffield), and only one in Iceland (Háskóli Íslands), so perhaps this won't actually all be valid, but here are a few differences between tertiary education in these countries in my experience:
1. It costs practically nothing to go to university in Iceland, whereas in Britain it costs an awful lot. In Britain you will definitely finish in debt, whereas in Iceland you can pretty much pay for your studies yourself with a part-time job.
2. Anybody can go to university in Iceland. If you managed to finish menntaskóli, apply and you pay the 60,000 kr., you've basically got a place. No UCAS forms, interviews, conditional offers... Much more egalitarian. Then once you're in university, you can try out a few courses, switch departments, whatever - it's incredibly relaxed.
2. Anybody can go to university in Iceland. If you managed to finish menntaskóli, apply and you pay the 60,000 kr., you've basically got a place. No UCAS forms, interviews, conditional offers... Much more egalitarian. Then once you're in university, you can try out a few courses, switch departments, whatever - it's incredibly relaxed.
3. To a certain extent, however, you get what you pay for. Basically all UK universities, to my knowledge, offer their students access to online academic publications. J-Stor or whatever, you can log on via your university and read thousands of journals and articles. Here at HÍ... nope. You have free access to any thesis written by a past HÍ student, but no J-Stor. You actually have to pay for access yourself or see if it's there in paper form in the library (probably not).
4. Here, essay or project length is measured in pages, which is clearly ridiculous. Sometimes formatting instructions are part of the requirements, but sometimes not. Which obviously means that you have a fair amount of leeway with regards to length. In Britain, essay-length is quite rightly measured in words. Because, obviously.
5. The grading system can take some getting used to. To me, coming from a UK humanities department, 70 is excellent, 80 is ridiculously good, anything above that is pretty much impossible. Here, 7 (they do it out of 10 rather than 100) is quite good, 9 is excellent, 10 is ridiculously good but very much possible. This is bizarre to me. How can any work done in the humanities be "perfect"? Maybe it is a little silly to have grades that are never used and exist only as a sort of artificial space to remind you that perfection is unattainable.
6. Hardly any seminars. At Sheffield our contact hours were 50% lectures, 50% seminars, in which you would discuss what you had learned in the lecture, plus additional reading. I took some modules that were only seminars, never any modules that were only lectures. Here a lot of modules are only lectures. Which doesn't seem like a very good approach, to be honest. You don't learn so much just by sitting there listening to a lecture as you do by actually engaging yourself in an discussion of the topic. Mind you, lectures are certainly a lot easier, and I am quite lazy, so swings and roundabouts.
P.S. It's worth noting that there are universities in Iceland that charge tuition fees (Háskóli í Reykjavík does). Apparently they have fancier technical equipment and are more rigorous. Maybe students there even get online journal access.
4. Here, essay or project length is measured in pages, which is clearly ridiculous. Sometimes formatting instructions are part of the requirements, but sometimes not. Which obviously means that you have a fair amount of leeway with regards to length. In Britain, essay-length is quite rightly measured in words. Because, obviously.
5. The grading system can take some getting used to. To me, coming from a UK humanities department, 70 is excellent, 80 is ridiculously good, anything above that is pretty much impossible. Here, 7 (they do it out of 10 rather than 100) is quite good, 9 is excellent, 10 is ridiculously good but very much possible. This is bizarre to me. How can any work done in the humanities be "perfect"? Maybe it is a little silly to have grades that are never used and exist only as a sort of artificial space to remind you that perfection is unattainable.
6. Hardly any seminars. At Sheffield our contact hours were 50% lectures, 50% seminars, in which you would discuss what you had learned in the lecture, plus additional reading. I took some modules that were only seminars, never any modules that were only lectures. Here a lot of modules are only lectures. Which doesn't seem like a very good approach, to be honest. You don't learn so much just by sitting there listening to a lecture as you do by actually engaging yourself in an discussion of the topic. Mind you, lectures are certainly a lot easier, and I am quite lazy, so swings and roundabouts.
P.S. It's worth noting that there are universities in Iceland that charge tuition fees (Háskóli í Reykjavík does). Apparently they have fancier technical equipment and are more rigorous. Maybe students there even get online journal access.
Gleðilegan Bolludag
Happy Bun Day everyone! I may not agree with eating salted lamb and split pea soup on Shrove Tuesday rather than pancakes with lemon and sugar, but Bolludagur is clearly an excellent idea. I don't think we do anything in the UK on this day, but here in Iceland everybody stuffs themselves with cream buns in honour of... Jesus? It doesn't matter, cream buns are good. I bought two from Melabúðin and I am feeling pretty full right now.
Tomorrow I was planning on celebrating Pancake Day, but I am also considering attempting the saltkjöt og baunir dish. The problem is it takes a long time to cook, like most stews, and I won't be able to start until at least 7 because I have to work tomorrow. So it may be quite a late dinner. On the other hand, also like most stews, it looks ridiculously easy. If any of you fancy having a go at the traditional Shrove Tuesday Icelandic meal, and you can actually get salted lamb, here's the recipe I was going to use (taken and translated from this site):
Ingredients (serves 4)250 g yellow split peas (no soaking required)2 l water1 onion, chopped2 tsp dried thyme1.2 kg salted lamb500 g swedes, peeled and chopped500 g potatoes, peeled and chopped250 g carrots, peeled and choppedground pepper to tasteInstructionsPut the split peas in a pot with the water, thyme and onion and bring to the boil. Allow to simmer with the lid on for 45 minutes. Then add one or two chunks of lamb; boil the rest separately in another pot. Allow to boil for a further half hour. Check the peas every now and again, stir them and see if they need more water. Add the vegetables and boil for another 20-30 minutes, or until everything is tender. Taste and, if required, season with salt and pepper.It is also possible to boil all of the lamb separately, but then the peas will need salting, or boil it all in the main soup pot, but then the soup can be too salty. Or all the lamb may be boiled separately and a little bacon or salted pork used to flavour the soup instead.
Clearly this will not be as good as pancakes, but you can always have them for pudding, and I've had this meal before and it is delicious. Maybe you could also use ordinary lamb and just salt the soup yourself? I'm not sure.
Post Code Deterioraton
I am pleased to announce that I will, in a few weeks, be making the move from 107, the second coolest post code in Iceland, to 105, the third coolest. This following my heady beginnings in 101, it is looking like I am gradually becoming less cool. I'll be moving to Kópavogur before you know it. Haha jokes, obviously I am never moving to Kópavogur. There seems to be some sort of chemical reaction that takes place in people when they either have children or reach a certain age here - suddenly, they are filled with a burning desire to move to Kópavogur or Garðabær. This is obviously a terrible idea, because the suburbs are lame and really far away from all the good stuff in the town. But 105 I can reconcile myself with. For those of you unfamiliar with the geography of Reykjavík, 107 is what is known as Vesturbær, because it is to the west of 101. 105 is also right next to 101, but on the east side (Austurbær). It is actually about the same distance to downtown as it is from here, although significantly further from the university which is currently right on my doorstep.
I thought maybe when I moved into this flat that this would be the time I would stay somewhere for more than a year, but circumstances have changed, yet again. This time I am not moving under compulsion but because I want to go and move in with Grétar in his new place on Skipholt. This is a not-so-beautiful area of Reykjavík, but do I get to live with Grétar and he is pretty good. The plan is to move at the beginning of March (and indeed my room has already been rented out from then), so I will have been in the Grenimelur flat for eleven and a half months - almost made it! This time for sure, guys.
Australia Day
Yesterday I attended the sixth annual Australia Day beach barbecue, organised by my friend Kalli. This is the second year I've been, and the weather was much better than last year. Hardly any wind (it's pretty sheltered down there on the beach in any case) and no rain until right when we were leaving. Of course this is still January in Iceland, so it was freezing cold. I got there at around 3 pm and stayed drinking Kalli's excellent homebrew and eating pylsur and lamingtons until the tide came in and removed the beach. Then we all piled into someone's enormous van and went downtown for some (warm) indoor drinking. I was very glad to get inside. A great afternoon, though.
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| Kalli addresses the masses. |
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| Me with Mr, Mrs and baby Australian Snowman. Sadly they were later murdered by the incoming tide. |
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| Ewelina takes an inflatable kangaroo for a walk on the beach. |
Mother Tongue
A while ago I wrote a bit about the importance of learning Icelandic in Iceland, and some of my experiences in that area. Now I'm going to write a little about the importance of one's mother tongue, especially if you want to be a translator.
This was triggered by my encountering someone (naming no names and linking no links) who had written the most astonishingly arrogant and so obviously affected thing about their language learning experience that I have ever heard. This was that they not only tried to avoid speaking English with Icelanders (surely a good idea) but that they had somehow forged such close links with the Icelandic language, that they could no longer process English when spoken to them by a fellow native English speaker who also spoke Icelandic. Even my ill-fated plan to give up English for Lent back in 2011 did not entail a blanket ban, but only speaking English to Icelanders. Two people, both learning Icelandic, but both having English as a mother tongue, might choose to chat a little in Icelandic for the sake of practice, but to entirely avoid communication in the language that both of you understand and speak best? That is mental. Of course, I don't actually believe this person for one second. That is, I believe they stringently avoid using English. However, any pretence of not processing English directed towards them or of no longer being able to produce instantaneous, fluent English is clearly feigned.
So that is nonsense, we're all agreed, yes? But what would be the motivation for making such a claim, for the apparent shame associated with speaking one's mother tongue rather than Icelandic, as an immigrant in Iceland? It can only be an over-extension of the idea that immigrants who speak Icelandic are accorded more value/respect than those who do not, and that immigrants have a certain responsibility to integrate by learning the language. If you take this to extremes I suppose it could end in a desire to reject one's own "foreign" identity entirely. You could decide that you didn't want to be an integrated foreigner and that you'd actually rather not be a foreigner at all. I think that's a little sad. I don't want to stop being English just because I don't live in England. Not that I actually have a choice in the matter. Even if I wanted it really, really hard and I tried to forget my English and speak only Icelandic and just be an Icelander, it wouldn't work. I moved here far too late in my life to actually become an Icelander.
This all reminded me of something which was pointed out in one of my translation lectures - that the Icelandic students must take pains to always keep reading in Icelandic, and that those of us who are foreign (actually I think it's just me in that module...) must do the same in our languages. The final product of the translation process is not in the 'foreign language', but in the translator's mother tongue. Of course. So it logically follows that, although a good understanding of the source language is important, what is paramount is the ability to express ideas fluently in your native language. If you spend too little time using your own language, it's going to get rusty. Not to the extent that you stop being able to speak it, as I think we've established, but it could well lead to poor phrasing, a harder time finding the right word, a narrower range of words used, etc. Also, if you're not reading new material in your native language, your native vocabulary is going nowhere; you're not going to be learning any new words, and you can keep learning words your whole life long if you care to.
Considering the amount of English I use in my life, reading, writing and speaking, this is extremely unlikely to happen to me. If anything I should probably be using a little less English and a little more Icelandic. But still, I reminded myself the other day that I must not stop reading literature in English. It's probably more important at this stage that I keep reading a lot in Icelandic, but it would definitely be good to throw in the occasional novel in English. Maybe a trip to the library is in order.
Whether you're a translator or not, though, I don't understand how you could reject (or pretend to reject) your mother tongue like that. I love the English language, I love it far more than Icelandic. It's a part of me and I understand it infinitely better, with all its subtleties and nuances. How could anyone with the passion to learn another language not have the same level of passion for their own tongue?
Gleðilegt ár etc
Hey team. I've been back in Iceland for a few days now, since Saturday afternoon. It snowed the day before I got back, and it's still on the ground although we haven't had any more since. Some of it has been compressed and frozen and there are some extremely slippery patches about. We need either a fresh layer or some rain to wash the ice away.
It's good to be back, although the flat is somewhat in turmoil at the moment what with Ahmad moving out and the new tenant (plus cat) moving in and an American friend of ours from last year plus his boyfriend staying over New Year. I haven't actually stayed here these last few nights, been round Grétar's or in Selfoss, but I came home yesterday to give things a bit of a clean and tidy up. It's a bit better now, but there is still stuff everywhere that has yet to be sorted into the right rooms / places. Plus we have all sorts of money transfers and calculations to sort out incurred by the swapping of one tenant for another. Jæja, þetta reddast.
Happy New Year and so forth. I think 2012 was a good year for me, all told, and here's hoping that things will continue in a satisfactory fashion throughout 2013. Yesterday evening we went to Selfoss. Apparently the weather was awful on the heath coming over, drifting snow severely reducing visibility, but I was of course asleep so I didn't notice. It was a good evening with Grétar and his family - another roast turkey with all the trimmings (albeit different trimmings, sweet potato mash instead of roast potatoes and salad instead of sprouts). We watched some of Lord of the Rings, which is always fantastic, and the Áramótaskaup as we ate the chocolate cake Grétar made for pudding, which was not so good. The programme, I mean - the cake was great. Then we went outside for the actual stroke of midnight to watch the fireworks. Grétar's parents had a few, including some sparklers, but there were so many all around that all in all it was quite a display. It must be absolutely incredible in Reykjavík. Back inside for champagne and board games until I fell asleep on Grétar's shoulder at about 2.30 am. I am not the best at staying up late. My first New Year's Eve outside of the UK, and it was a pretty good evening, not so very different from what I'm used to, except more fireworks and a bit less drinking. And Christmas meat.
The spring term starts next week, and then life resumes as normal. Hope you're all enjoying 2013 so far!
Gleðileg jól
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| Reykjavíkurtjörn |
Bjórskóli
Recently I went with Grétar and a lot of his friends to the "beer school" in Ölgerðin, in the big building where they actually do the brewing and that. For those of you not familiar with Icelandic beer culture, the two main breweries are Ölgerðin Egill Skallagrímsson (who make Gull and Tuborg, two of the most popular lagers in Iceland) and Vífilfell (who make Víking, the other popular lager). Both companies also make a lot of other drinks, soft drinks and juices and so on, but who cares.
A subsidiary of Ölgerðin is the microbrewery Borg, which was also in the same building. There are various other microbreweries in Iceland (Kaldi and Ölvisholt come to mind... there are probably more?), but basically when you go to the pub, unless you go somewhere fancy like Microbar, the beers on tap are going to be Tuborg and/or Gull or Víking. Nowhere sells lagers from both breweries, it's like a Pepsi / Coke thing going on. Of course there are usually a few bottled Icelandic varieties available also.
Anyway, it was super fun and really interesting. The guy told us a bit about the general history of beer, loads of cool stuff about the history of beer in Iceland and how it came to be banned / re-legalised, about how beer is made, the main ingredients and their varieties, what effect that has on the taste and so on. We got to taste a few different sorts of beer (as well as unlimited-within-reason Gull) and also go to see the brewing equipment (in the microbrewery and the big brewery). A highly recommended evening's entertainment!
Anyway, it was super fun and really interesting. The guy told us a bit about the general history of beer, loads of cool stuff about the history of beer in Iceland and how it came to be banned / re-legalised, about how beer is made, the main ingredients and their varieties, what effect that has on the taste and so on. We got to taste a few different sorts of beer (as well as unlimited-within-reason Gull) and also go to see the brewing equipment (in the microbrewery and the big brewery). A highly recommended evening's entertainment!
Lýsi
Icelanders tend to think that lýsi is some sort of miracle substance that will preserve your health forever. I always thought that it looked kind of gross, and that since I'd managed to survive so far without it, and pretty healthily as well, I'd just give it a miss. However, it has come to my attention that it is physically impossible to get enough vitamin D in an Icelandic winter without taking some sort of supplement. And that vitamin D deficiency can cause fatigue, which maybe isn't helping mine? So I thought maybe it would be worth it to get some lýsi after all. I was going to get the one you can take in pill form so you don't actually have to have cod liver oil in open contact with your tongue, but I couldn't find any in Melabúðin. Instead I went for the lemon flavoured version, because I thought it would be slightly less gross. Drinking a tablespoon of oil in the morning is actually not as bad as it seems like it would be (not saying I like it), and the lemon helps I think. Haven't really noticed much of an effect yet, but I only got the bottle a few days ago. It certainly can't be doing any harm. There's no way I'm drinking this stuff come the spring, though.
Helvítis útlendingar - Íslenska er lykillinn
I'm a foreigner. Or as the Icelanders would say, an útlendingur. Being an útlendingur is basically the only experience I have had in my life of being a minority. When you're living in southern England and ticking all the demographic boxes that I did, you're not exactly standing out from the crowd. It's a pretty comfortable place to be. Here I deviate from "normal" in that I'm not Icelandic, and sometimes it's not too comfortable. Occasionally it's fun to be different, most of the time I don't really think about it, but sometimes it can be pretty lonely or isolating.
I suppose there's a cultural element to this (although Iceland and Britain are really not so far apart culturally), and it's probably something that all immigrants go through even between countries where the same language is spoken. In Iceland, though, if you don't speak Icelandic you'll be able to live here easily enough but you will always be on the outside of society looking in. I wouldn't advise anyone to move here unless they are genuinely committed to attaining a good standard of Icelandic. The links between nation and language here are notoriously strong - an oft-quoted example of this is the signs at Keflavík airport. The English version says, "Welcome to Iceland". The Icelandic version says, "Velkomin heim" ("Welcome home"). If you speak Icelandic then Iceland is your home - if you don't, then you are a visitor. Think about it, it's not an assumption you could make, and largely be right about, in many other international airports.
I was doing a bit of reading for some of my university work and I came upon this paragraph in a text outlining proposed language policy in Iceland (originally in Icelandic, but I have translated it with my skills):
There is a danger that foreigners here in Iceland do not receive sufficient encouragement to learn Icelandic. Unfortunately, the view is widespread amongst Icelanders that Icelandic is a "little language" because of how few speak it, and therefore it is perhaps not worth it for foreigners to learn it; also that Icelandic is an archaic and complicated language and therefore tremendously difficult for foreigners to learn. On top of this is the common opinion among Icelanders that they themselves are so proficient in English that it is easy to live and work in Iceland without learning Icelandic, English is universally viable in Iceland. Obviously it is undeniable that the number of people who speak Icelandic is not great in international terms. What is more important, however, is that Icelandic is the language of society as a whole; in Iceland, Icelandic is the principle language in all areas of society. Icelandic is therefore the most important language in Iceland by far. In order to be able to fully take part in Icelandic society and properly enjoy the complete quality of life on offer, it is necessary to have command of the language - Icelandic is the key to Icelandic society.1
It's true of course. I've heard a lot of foreigners here complaining most bitterly over closed-minded, unfriendly Icelanders - I've even heard the term "racist" thrown around pretty casually. There definitely is a lot of xenophobia within Icelandic society - as one might expect from such a small, homogeneous nation that for so long was pretty isolated from the rest of the world - and I'm not at all saying that there aren't problems that need to be addressed. I'm also aware that I have it easier here as a western European than someone from say, Asia. But I personally become irritated pretty quickly when a group gets into a complaining session about how Icelanders hate foreigners and how difficult it is to make friends with them. Without fail, the loudest voices here come from the ones who speak little or no Icelandic. In all fairness, should you really be able to expect groups of Icelanders to switch over to English based on the presence of one person who doesn't speak Icelandic? Sure, it's the polite thing to do if that one person is to feel included, but you can't demand that people keep on doing this for you, that they repeatedly put themselves at a linguistic disadvantage to suit you. You need to go some of that distance to bridge the gap yourself, and a big part of that is learning the language. Icelanders are generally friendly to visitors, but you'll never quite be an insider unless you speak the language - you'll still be a visitor in some sense.
This isn't a flip of the switch process, though. Language-learning is a curve, you're not going to get there overnight. I've achieved the "insider" status of someone who speaks Icelandic, but only to a certain extent. I don't ever expect (or really want) my Icelandic to be at a level where people don't notice I'm foreign. At the moment though, I'm still struggling for words in a lot of situations, I can say a lot of things and carry a conversation about most topics just fine, but without finesse - and I still make grammatical errors that immediately mark my speech as foreign. If we accept that the burden of bridging the gap between immigrant and native rightly falls mainly on the immigrant, that also means that all the linguistic disadvantage falls on you, the foreigner.
In my experience as someone trying to speak Icelandic as a second language in Iceland, the vast majority of people you speak to will recognise that and try to help you feel confident through the way that they interact with you. I could count on one hand (one finger probably) the number of times I've received an overtly negative reaction to my Icelandic - most people are grateful for your efforts and respect you for what you've achieved, even though you're not perfect. The best thing is when you feel like you're actually communicating, that you're being listened to and responded to based on what you're saying, that your "foreignness" isn't the central point in the conversation. Unfortunately, "talking to foreigners" isn't a social skill that all Icelanders have perfected. I'm sure immigrants in the UK with English as a second language have to deal with a lot worse, so bear with me while I complain about what are probably quite trivial irritations, which basically fall into two camps: the overly positive and the overly critical.
There are some who treat you a little like a dog that has learnt to walk on its hind legs ("it is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all" - the supremely sexist comment from Samuel Johnson on female preachers). They certainly mean to pay you a compliment when they react with delighted surprise on hearing you speak Icelandic, but when you've heard this a few times it begins to wear a little thin. Don't get me wrong, practically nothing makes me happier than when people compliment my Icelandic, I've worked hard at it and it's good to hear it's going well - just that often it comes off as patronising. You sometimes get the impression that people would compliment you even if you'd only mastered "góðan daginn"... An exaggeration, but the point stands. Dear Icelanders: Icelandic is not the most difficult language on the planet, it is not a miracle that a non-Icelander can string a few sentences together. Please keep your compliments genuine and in perspective.
These people are a hundred times better than the other sort, though. There are people (thankfully few) who couldn't care less what you are actually saying, they are just delighted to have the opportunity to instruct you on the Icelandic language. Of course it's useful to get corrections and tips on how to speak the language better, but when the original topic of conversation is completely pushed to one side, your autonomy as a speaker is taken away. I have spoken to Icelanders who have simply denied me the power of communication because, although they understood me, I did not say it flawlessly - instead of answering me and giving a correction perhaps as a side-note (or correcting in a more subtle way using repetition plus rephrasing/correction), the correction is the answer. No, I don't want to keep on making the same mistakes because everyone's too polite to say anything, but this sort of approach is extremely disheartening and certainly discourages us foreigners from even trying to say anything in Icelandic.
1. Íslenska til alls, Tillögur íslenskrar málnefndar að íslenskri málstefnu (Reykjavík: Menntamálaráðuneyti, 2008), p. 79.
Ljóni kisi and other news
Last Sunday we realised we hadn't seen the cat for a while. Ahmad said that he'd been in on Saturday morning, but otherwise his whereabouts were unknown. Since he's a pretty sociable cat and is rarely out for more than a few hours at a time, this was a bit worrying. Ahmad went out to look for him, and put up adverts on Kattholt and Dyrahjalp. On Monday with still no sign of Ljóni, he printed out some flyers to hand round to the neighbours and stick up in the local shops. I felt that, sad as it was, the most likely explanation was that he'd been run over. He's young, and we live in a pretty quiet area so he might not be as wary of cars as some cats.
Then on Wednesday I came home from the library to be greeted by a wailing of meows. Apparently someone in the neighbourhood had found him locked inside their garage, and Ahmad's phone number and our address were on his collar so they got in touch. Instead of waiting for Ahmad to go and pick him up, they just brought him round and let him go in our garden, where apparently he ran straight inside. I gave him a whole can of tuna to eat (which he didn't manage to finish, but he seemed pretty hungry nonetheless) and was much relieved. Our stripy little bird-murderer back to spread feathers and blood all over the living room another day! He seems to have been slightly freaked out by his experiences and to be suffering from abandonment issues now, meowing his head off when you don't let him come with you into the bathroom for example. But I'm sure he'll get over it soon enough.
He's not living here much longer though. Along with Ahmad, he's moving to Garðabær to Ahmad's mother's house. So Thomas and I have been searching for a new flatmate. We put up some adverts and unsurprisingly got a fair amount of interest, because our flat is amazing and in a really good location. We had some of the promising applicants over and we've now chosen someone who, all going well, will move in in January. She has a cat as well, so we can get a replacement for Ljóni, who I will miss. I suppose I'll miss Ahmad a bit as well, but not really because I'm sure I will still see him really often.
The City of Dreadful Night
Although the brightness in the summer time doesn't stop me sleeping, the darkness in the winter really does stop me waking up. I feel like I'm in a constant state of semi-dozing, dragging myself out of bed in the mornings (not that I'm the greatest morning riser at the best of times), my unwillingness to participate in the world slowly reaching new lows in the afternoon as it gets dark again. And when I say mornings, I mean approaching midday. The level of light has convinced my brain that it is not a reasonable time to get up until at least 11 am. Sadly sometimes life commitments require me to get up before this. I do not enjoy this.
I usually manage to get into gear by 6 pm, but by that point there's not much of the day left. And it's not even December yet. It reminds me of the world's most depressing poem, 'The City of Dreadful Night' by James Thomson:
The City is of Night; perchance of Death
But certainly of Night; for never there
Can come the lucid morning's fragrant breath
After the dewy dawning's cold grey air:
The moon and stars may shine with scorn or pity
The sun has never visited that city,
For it dissolveth in the daylight fair.
Luckily it's not quite that bad (few things could possibly be as bad as that poem, in which the protagonist's only ray of comfort is that there's no god, so suicide is a legitimate option), but I'm certainly looking forward to the spring.
November
It is November, which in Iceland is very definitely winter. The mornings are drawing closer and closer to the midday point, the sun hanging low in the sky. We awoke to the first light snowfall a few days ago, snow which is now a thin layer of slick white ice coating the pavements, temperatures hovering just below freezing. Not a single leaf left on the trees, not a chance they could have clung on in the gales that whip through Reykjavík. The edges of the Tjörn are crusted with wind-frothed ice, although there's not a chance of walking on it yet. Christmas decorations have begun to appear already, as seems to be inevitable these days, although thank god I haven't heard any Christmas music yet.
The bright point is the jólabjór in the warmth of the bars - the Kaldi is particularly good, the Gæðingur also well worth a try. Last Friday I went to Hemmi og Valdi with Siri, stumbled upon some poetry night, too late to relocate since we'd already bought a pint of the jóla-Víking. Some of them weren't bad, some of them seemed to go on rather too long. In general I prefer music to poetry in a pub setting. When it was over Grétar joined us, and then Ewelina and Kalli, and we headed down to the Microbar on Austurvöllur to sample the more upmarket jólabjórs. The only one I haven't tried now is the Tuborg, imported from Denmark, where I believe the tradition of Christmas beer comes from.
The university semester is gearing up towards final projects and exams, so there's a lot to do on that front. I'll be finished on the 10th December, and then my flight back to England is on the 18th. I'm spending Christmas with the family of course, but then coming back to Iceland for New Year's Eve. I want to see what all the fuss is about, although odds are it will be anticlimactic. Apparently the fireworks are really incredible, and I missed Fireworks Night of course, so it would be nice to see some good ones.
Customers Hall of Fame
We were reminiscing the other day about particularly memorable customers we have had, and how astonishingly well-suited we are to the world of customer service. Here are a few anecdotes from the world of selling coffee to the general public in shopping malls.
Drunk-bin guy
This man was peacefully minding his own business, smashed out of his skull, drinking from a paper cup in a café in a shopping mall at 10.30 am. Matters took a turn for the worse, however, when he finished his drink and was unable to locate a bin to dispose of the cup. Understandably distressed, he was left with no option but to throw the cup at us and shout, "There's no fucking bin".
Briefcase guy
This guy was a complete twat, for serious. He used to march through the café talking on the phone with his stupid briefcase, bark an order for hot chocolate at us and keep going because he was so fucking busy and important he had no time to waste waiting for us to make it. Although what he can possibly have been doing is a mystery to me. He would return a few minutes later to take delivery of the hot chocolate, which he would not pay for until after he had finished even though that is not how the café works. He also always used to sit at the same table. I have it on authority from someone who used to work there that he once confided that he liked to sit at that table because it offered a good view for ogling the women working in the shoe shop next to us. Thankfully one time I think I managed to upset him so much that he hasn't been back since. It was very busy and had been so for hours, so that we had been rushing around without any sort of break for ages. My colleague was at the till working through a line of customers and I was going round clearing the tables. Briefcase guy stormed in in his usual style and ordered me to get him a hot chocolate and a slice of almond cake. I told him there was a queue and pointed to it. He denied that there was a queue and pointed out that I was "not doing anything anyway". Sigh. So I asked him whether he meant pecan cake, because we don't sell almond cake. He did not take this affront to his nut identification skills well and left, but I assumed that he would be coming back in a few minutes and got the stuff ready. But he never came back! And we haven't seen him since, which was an excellent result.
Facebook lady
This woman was one of the worst customers we have ever had, and managed to be a pain in the arse for almost the entire duration of her stay. First of all she was one of those who take ages to decide what they want and ask many, many questions to help them in this time of uncertainty. This was only a mild irritation; about forty percent of our customers are like this, so we are used to it. Then she complained that her cappuccino was too bitter and made us make another one with less coffee and more milk in it. At this point she was still only at the level of "tiresome" and if she'd left it there she wouldn't be in this post. But then she came up with the remaining third of a slice of chocolate cake and informed us, outraged, that it was a bad cake. "What's wrong with it?" we asked. What was wrong with it was that her child didn't like it, it was too bitter. "Yes," we said, "it's dark chocolate, it's not so sweet as a lot of chocolate." No, her child liked dark chocolate, this was just a bad cake. What's more, she had tasted it, and her mother had tasted it and they all agreed. We weren't quite sure what she wanted us to do about this, and invited her to call our boss if she wanted to talk to the person who'd made it. She ignored this, and we told her that there was nothing wrong with the cake and we couldn't help it if she didn't like it and then we left her alone because it was the world's most retarded discussion. She flounced back to her table. As she was leaving she came up to us to tell us that she was going to write about how poor the customer service was here on her facebook status. We waited until she had gone and then burst out laughing.
"Espresso" guy
This was one of the times when a customer was just so ridiculous that I wasn't even annoyed, it was just funny. This guy comes in, orders a single espresso. I take his payment and start making the coffee. He tells me to put two shots in. I'm like right, so you wanted a double espresso, whatever, I do it. Then he asks whether he can have just a bit of milk froth on top. This is a different coffee again. Then can I put it in a bigger cup, add a little hot milk and have the milk froth on top. The man ends up with what is essentially a cappuccino, which he has not paid for. I wonder if he was genuinely confused about what sort of coffee he wanted and what it might be called, or if he employs this scheme regularly to save a few krónur.
Ólafur
This is another one I don't even really resent. Ólafur is a róni who is sometimes seen in Kringlan with his sidekick, and they totally remind me of Sir Digby Chicken Caesar and Ginger. One time he didn't have any money, but came up to us and asked if he could "borrow" a cup of coffee and a bottle of appelsín. Unbelievably, the person I was working with said yes to this and that he could come back and pay some other time, and asked him to write his name and phone number on a piece of paper. This is something we sometimes do if the card machine stops working for example, but it is not something I would have done with Ólafur. He said he didn't have a phone, literally just wrote "Ólafur" on the paper and got a free coffee and appelsín. We are still waiting for him to come back and pay for this.
Banana cake lady
This woman came in with her friend and, whilst the friend sat down, ordered two coffees and one slice of banana cake. She told me to cut the banana cake in half and put it on two plates. This annoys me in itself - if you are going to share a piece of cake, why can't you just both eat off the same plate? This particular cake has a very soft base and tends to fall apart if you try and make one slice into two, but I did it. The woman paid for all this, at which point her friend realised what she had bought and said that she didn't like bananas. The woman said, "Oh, well I'll have a slice of the pecan cake instead. On two plates." "OK," I said, "that's 890 krónur more then." "What?" she said, "But I don't want the banana cake any more, just give me pecan cake instead." "Right. But you can see I've already cut the banana cake up for you. I can't put it back now, you have to pay for it." In the end she decided not to get the pecan cake, but she clearly felt that my attitude was unreasonable. After she had left I ate the half-slice that her friend didn't want and which she had left by the cash register. Why didn't she just eat both of them, seeing as she had paid for it? Who knows with these people, they are mental.
Drunk-bin guy
This man was peacefully minding his own business, smashed out of his skull, drinking from a paper cup in a café in a shopping mall at 10.30 am. Matters took a turn for the worse, however, when he finished his drink and was unable to locate a bin to dispose of the cup. Understandably distressed, he was left with no option but to throw the cup at us and shout, "There's no fucking bin".
Briefcase guy
This guy was a complete twat, for serious. He used to march through the café talking on the phone with his stupid briefcase, bark an order for hot chocolate at us and keep going because he was so fucking busy and important he had no time to waste waiting for us to make it. Although what he can possibly have been doing is a mystery to me. He would return a few minutes later to take delivery of the hot chocolate, which he would not pay for until after he had finished even though that is not how the café works. He also always used to sit at the same table. I have it on authority from someone who used to work there that he once confided that he liked to sit at that table because it offered a good view for ogling the women working in the shoe shop next to us. Thankfully one time I think I managed to upset him so much that he hasn't been back since. It was very busy and had been so for hours, so that we had been rushing around without any sort of break for ages. My colleague was at the till working through a line of customers and I was going round clearing the tables. Briefcase guy stormed in in his usual style and ordered me to get him a hot chocolate and a slice of almond cake. I told him there was a queue and pointed to it. He denied that there was a queue and pointed out that I was "not doing anything anyway". Sigh. So I asked him whether he meant pecan cake, because we don't sell almond cake. He did not take this affront to his nut identification skills well and left, but I assumed that he would be coming back in a few minutes and got the stuff ready. But he never came back! And we haven't seen him since, which was an excellent result.
Facebook lady
This woman was one of the worst customers we have ever had, and managed to be a pain in the arse for almost the entire duration of her stay. First of all she was one of those who take ages to decide what they want and ask many, many questions to help them in this time of uncertainty. This was only a mild irritation; about forty percent of our customers are like this, so we are used to it. Then she complained that her cappuccino was too bitter and made us make another one with less coffee and more milk in it. At this point she was still only at the level of "tiresome" and if she'd left it there she wouldn't be in this post. But then she came up with the remaining third of a slice of chocolate cake and informed us, outraged, that it was a bad cake. "What's wrong with it?" we asked. What was wrong with it was that her child didn't like it, it was too bitter. "Yes," we said, "it's dark chocolate, it's not so sweet as a lot of chocolate." No, her child liked dark chocolate, this was just a bad cake. What's more, she had tasted it, and her mother had tasted it and they all agreed. We weren't quite sure what she wanted us to do about this, and invited her to call our boss if she wanted to talk to the person who'd made it. She ignored this, and we told her that there was nothing wrong with the cake and we couldn't help it if she didn't like it and then we left her alone because it was the world's most retarded discussion. She flounced back to her table. As she was leaving she came up to us to tell us that she was going to write about how poor the customer service was here on her facebook status. We waited until she had gone and then burst out laughing.
"Espresso" guy
This was one of the times when a customer was just so ridiculous that I wasn't even annoyed, it was just funny. This guy comes in, orders a single espresso. I take his payment and start making the coffee. He tells me to put two shots in. I'm like right, so you wanted a double espresso, whatever, I do it. Then he asks whether he can have just a bit of milk froth on top. This is a different coffee again. Then can I put it in a bigger cup, add a little hot milk and have the milk froth on top. The man ends up with what is essentially a cappuccino, which he has not paid for. I wonder if he was genuinely confused about what sort of coffee he wanted and what it might be called, or if he employs this scheme regularly to save a few krónur.
Ólafur
This is another one I don't even really resent. Ólafur is a róni who is sometimes seen in Kringlan with his sidekick, and they totally remind me of Sir Digby Chicken Caesar and Ginger. One time he didn't have any money, but came up to us and asked if he could "borrow" a cup of coffee and a bottle of appelsín. Unbelievably, the person I was working with said yes to this and that he could come back and pay some other time, and asked him to write his name and phone number on a piece of paper. This is something we sometimes do if the card machine stops working for example, but it is not something I would have done with Ólafur. He said he didn't have a phone, literally just wrote "Ólafur" on the paper and got a free coffee and appelsín. We are still waiting for him to come back and pay for this.
Banana cake lady
This woman came in with her friend and, whilst the friend sat down, ordered two coffees and one slice of banana cake. She told me to cut the banana cake in half and put it on two plates. This annoys me in itself - if you are going to share a piece of cake, why can't you just both eat off the same plate? This particular cake has a very soft base and tends to fall apart if you try and make one slice into two, but I did it. The woman paid for all this, at which point her friend realised what she had bought and said that she didn't like bananas. The woman said, "Oh, well I'll have a slice of the pecan cake instead. On two plates." "OK," I said, "that's 890 krónur more then." "What?" she said, "But I don't want the banana cake any more, just give me pecan cake instead." "Right. But you can see I've already cut the banana cake up for you. I can't put it back now, you have to pay for it." In the end she decided not to get the pecan cake, but she clearly felt that my attitude was unreasonable. After she had left I ate the half-slice that her friend didn't want and which she had left by the cash register. Why didn't she just eat both of them, seeing as she had paid for it? Who knows with these people, they are mental.
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