Christmas, Iceland

With the Yule Lads still descending from the mountains, Christmas finally arrived - as it always does, on the 25th of December. With the village almost devoid of people Dan, Cat and I were left to our own devices to decide how to celebrate. With my traditional lack of planning I was going to be content with a few coldies and maybe some rice and beans. Cat fortunately had a better idea ... beers AND chicken. One of the most expensive meats in Iceland, it is somewhat unusually considered a 'delicacy' and as such consumed to a lesser extent than either horse, whale and certainly the ubiquitous boiled sheep's head. Cat also wanted to try her hand at some truly Icelandic cooking, which resulted in some odd looking but delicious Laufabrauð - thin deep-fried wheat breads which are traditionally cut with intricate decorative patterns.

Christmas chickens

Icelandic Laufabrauð (Leaf Bread)

Washed down with more than enough 'mini Thors' dinner was not surprisingly a success. Presents of course were exchanged beneath the Christmas Branch, which was left in Dan's capable hands while Soizic was home in France for the holidays. Not one of the most festive Christmas seasons we've ever had (for me no doubt due to the lack of barbeque's and swimming in the sea), but a good one none the less. I hope you all got visited by Santa and managed to soak up the goodness of the Kiwi summer - I am infinitely jealous.

The Christmas Branch

The best thing about it being Christmas is that it means that I made it through the shortest day of the year. On the 21st the sun rose at 11:22am and set at 3:29pm. Because the valley I live in doesn't actually receive sunlight from roughly October to March, it seemed little different to any other day of the Arctic winter. I just consider myself lucky that I'm not still scared of the dark ...

Santa's coming, Iceland

As always, the most interesting thing about Christmas anywhere is that terrified look children get when mum makes them sit on Santa's knee. Here in Iceland Santa is for pussies. Real children are visited by 13 once terrifying Yuletide Lads on the days leading up to Christmas - and if they have been naughty perhaps the Lad's mother Grýla or their evil pet the Christmas Cat. Most of the stories told about Grýla and her family were to frighten children – her favourite dish was a stew of naughty kids and she had an insatiable appetite. Such was the power of the terrifying creature and her offspring that a public decree was issued in 1746 prohibiting the use of Grýla and the Yuletide Lads to scare children in to being good.

From child snatchers the Yuletide Lads developed into thieving tricksters who descended from the mountains one by one during the thirteen days before Christmas. Formerly, they tried to pilfer their favorite things or play tricks on people (hence their names), but now their main role is to give children small gifts. Every child in Iceland puts their best shoe on their bedroom window sill on December 12th (some try to put their boot, in the hope that they may get more, but so far the Yule Lads haven’t been fooled) and they get a small gift from each lad when he arrives in town. But beware not to be naughty or the lad might just leave a rotten potatoe in your shoe!

On December 12 the Yuletide Lads begin to come to town. The first to arrive is Stekkjastaur (Stiff Legs) who loves to drink the milk from farmers' ewes but his stiff legs make that very difficult. On December 13 Giljagaur (Gully Oaf) arrives. Before the days of milking machines, he would sneak into the cowshed and skim the froth off the pails of milk. The Lad who arrives on December 14 is Stúfur (Shorty), who, as his name implies, is on the small side. He smacks his lips over the leftovers in the cooking pans, especially if they are burnt or gone bad. On December 15, Þvörusleikir (Spoon Licker) comes down from the mountains to steal wooden spoons that have been used for stirring. On December 16, Pottaskefill (Pot Licker) comes visiting. He snatches the unwashed pots from the kitchen and scrapes the insides with his fingers and tongue and leaves them quite clean. Askasleikir (Bowl Licker) arrives on December 17. He hides under beds, and if someone puts a wooden food-bowl in the floor, he grabs it and licks it clean.

The Yule Lads

Hurðaskellir (Door Slammer) comes on December 18. He is an awfully noisy fellow, who is always slamming doors and keeping people awake. The Lad who is expected on December 19 is called Skyrgámur (Curd Glutton), because he loves skyr (milk curd) so much that he sneaks into the pantry and gobbles up all the skyr from the tub there. Bjúgnakrækir (Sausage Pilferer) comes on December 20. He loves sausages of all kinds, and steals them whenever he can. On December 21, Gluggagægir (Peeping Tom) arrives. He is not as greedy as some of his brothers, but awfully nosy, peeping through windows and even stealing toys he likes the look of. On December 22 Gáttaþefur (Sniffer) comes calling. He has a big nose, and he loves the smell of cakes being baked for Christmas. He often tries to snatch a cake or two for himself. On 23 December, St. Þorlákur's Day, Ketkrókur (Meat Hook) arrives. He adores all meat. In olden days he would lower a hook down the kitchen chimney and pull up a leg of lamb hanging from a rafter, or a bit of smoked lamb from a pan, as smoked lamb was traditionally cooked on St. Þorlákur's Day. Kertasníkir (Candle Beggar) comes on Christmas Eve, December 24. In olden times, candle light was the brightest light available. Candles were so rare and precious that it was a treat for children to be given a candle at Christmas. Poor Candle Beggar wants one too but he can't make up his mind whether to eat them or watch their lovely light.

Presents are exchanged at 6pm on December 24th. They are not delivered by any of the Yuletide Lads but by friends and family. I think this is done so that someone may be held accountable if something terrible should happen - like not getting any new clothes for example. An old Icelandic folklore states that everyone has to get one new piece of clothing at Christmas. Anyone who does not is in danger of being eaten by Grýla’s pet - a malicious beast called the Christmas Cat.

The dreaded Christmas Cat

Thanks for the underwear Nana - it might just have saved my life ...

Nuffin' much, Iceland

I've been in the lab sampling Arctic charr eggs this week - leaving home and returning again under the cover of darkness. Things being as they are you don't have much opportunity to 'see' anything. I was lucky enough however on my weekend (when I only had to work a couple of hours) to catch a glimpse of a pair of seals resting on the sea ice.

Seals looking out for polar bears

I am still waiting to see a polar bear mincing around Sauðárkrókur, but I'm sure I'll see one soon enough ...

3 things, Iceland

This was a good week in Iceland for three reasons. First, I finished my level 1 Icelandic class. It means that I don't have to endure two and a half hours of incomprehensible grammar twice a week. Sadly, it doesn't mean that I can speak Icelandic.

Just like a degree - looks good on paper but is useless in the real world

Icelandic Class of '08, Farskólinn

Second, I got to see some fishes from the sea on Wednesday, including two monstrous Greenland Sharks. This is what Icelanders make Hárkarl (putrefied shark meat) out of. In typical Icelandic fashion, some old geezer pulls up in a family wagon towing a trailer - on to which he loads two of the 4 or 5 tonne beasts from the deep. Looks like there will be no shortage of this quote unquote 'delicacy' at the traditional feast in February.

Hjalp!

Greenland Sharks are used to make Hákarl

Load 'em up lads

Third, I took Friday off work to go snowboarding on Tindastoll - the local ski area. The weather and the snow were flippin' perfect. The hill has an approximately 800m long pommel which pulls you up a decent kind of a slope in about 6-7 minutes. Once at the top you have a number of lines to choose from; varying from groomed snow, 1-2 feet of powder, rock filled canyons or off trail. The best thing though, was that there were only 7 other people there that day. I ran fresh powdery lines for 3 hours, and all for less than the price of a dozen beers.

Friday's sunrise over Sauðárkrókur Harbour

Sometime around midday ...

There are some good runs

Friday was perfect to hit the slopes for some fresh pow pow

Tindastóll at night

Beard Update 3, Iceland

I'm beginning to think this is a bad idea

At least I think I might have Dan convinced that his victory will not be easy. He looks terrified that my beard is more masculine than his.

Dan sporting a second place face

Snow, parties and ladies, Iceland

Working has a way of weaseling it's way in to the week - severely restricting the number of days in my weekend. Luckily for me 'work' this week involved heading down to Reykjavík (about 3.5 hours drive south) to go fishing. I found something unnervingly pleasant about driving icy roads through a snowstorm in the dark listening to Sigur Rós and contemplating just how in the hell I ended up here. Never the less, I had a job to do and I was happy to get out of Hólar for a few days.

Loaded with Arctic charr from the University of Iceland, Reykjavík

There were a few hundred dwarf charr to be picked up from The University of Iceland, and still more to be electric fished from a lake in Straumsvík, and brought back to Verið Station in Sauðárkrókur. The truck was outfitted with oxygen bottles, containers and of course waders, nets, electric fishing gear and plenty of warm clothes. Everything went smoothly, and I even managed to squeeze in some Christmas shopping for some of you people out there. It was lucky I decided to head home on Tuesday night because by Thursday the trip would have been impossible.

One day I'll look back on this and laugh ... maybe

Look at all that powder though huh ...

It snowed so much on Wednesday that by Thursday morning it was impossible to leave Hólar because deep snow drifts had blocked the road and buried cars in the car park. While I was pleased to be having my first official snow day, I was less than enthusiastic about heading outside to enjoy it. The amount of powder that gets dumped does mean however that there should be some very very nice snowboarding to be had once the whiteout ends.

After being trapped inside for a few days, everyone was excited about the Christmas Party being held in the school gym on Saturday night. On Friday Beer Club was bustling with at least 20 people keen for a warm up session. We even trimmed Dan's hairs for the occasion.

Dan's beard is now longer than his hair

The Christmas Party was a smorgasbord affair, with delicious offerings such as fresh salmon, goose soup, roast pork and turkey, reindeer pâté, cold smoked lamb and pork, pickled herring, mushroom jelly (WTF?!) and of course baked potatoes caramelised in sugar. Fortunately there was no rotten shark or boiled sheep's head in the mix. All in all not a bad party - but not a great one either.

The Christmas Party ...

Pamella and Fillipe (Portuguese)

Anup, Sonja (German) and Cammy

The Portuguese - Daniel and Kjell - oh and the guy with the side part is me ...

For you Chesty - Eik (Icelandic), Soizic, Raika (German) and Pamella

And ??? (Swedish), Raika, Christina (German) and Julia (German)

I'm so hungry ... Iceland

Some exciting, and some admittedly not so exciting things began this week here at the centre of the Universe. I like to think it's all very big bang-ish, or at least has some kind of butterfly effect.

You will of course all be very excited, and perhaps even a little jealous, to hear that I have acquired a new chair. She's a real beaut. Great for sitting on, reading in, putting stuff on and of course standing on when you can't quite reach something up high.

I think of it as not just a chair, but as a functionally stylish lounge accessory

Being from IKEA also means that aside from being extremely functional and versatile it is also very stylish. Unfortunately I don't think owning a shitty old chair is going to get me an invite to move up 'Snob Hill'. However, my social standing down here in the 'Ghetto' (Geitagerði) is bound to improve once people discover its presence in my apartment. I'm thinking about throwing a party to introduce everyone, and to bathe in their collective adoration. The question is, as always; "what are we guna eat?"

Time to lower my metabolism, become innactive, and rely on my fat reserves

Food is a prized commodity here in the North. There are only two "supermarkets" (a term I use in the loosest way possible) in Sauðarkrókur. This means two things; the selection of goods on offer is limited and exorbitantly overpriced. The best way to shop is to head to Bónus and load up on all the necessities. Unfortunately, the nearest Bónus is 120km away and at this time of year the trip is almost impossible. Looks like it's a case of "put up or shut up" for the next few months. Luckily I'm well prepared for my winter hibernation ... or as I like to call it "dieting".

Breakfast is the most important, if not the least exciting meal of the day

Because of the short daylight hours, mornings have that feeling like when you get up really early to drive to the mountain for a day shredding snow, set off for a camping trip, or get on to the river early to get a head start on the trout rise. Of course at 3:30am you hardly feel like eating, but seeing as it actually is after 8:00am here I feel like I should. Breakfast therefore consists of Granola cereal, milk and sometimes juice - just to make sure I'm getting all the vitamins and minerals I need. It's not flashy, but it works.

As we all know, a balanced diet consists of beef, chicken and vegetables

Lunch unfortunately isn't much more exciting, but at least by midday you can see what you're eating (although sometimes I'd rather like it if I couldn't). As every student knows, 2 minute noodles comprise the middle tier of the food pyramid. Beer of course forms a solid foundation (so as not to crush the noodles) and cheese toasties cap off the perfectly balanced triangle we all learned as kids. Interestingly up here in the northern hemisphere 2 minute noodles take 3 minutes to cook. Go figure.

As long as ya got some T-sauce and bread dinner is delish

Dinner is simple, and usually involves rice. If I bother coming in to work on Friday's, it's only so I can go to Olafshús for lunch. Now the only restaurant in town (the other one burnt down a few months before I arrived), they offer a wide variety of Icelandic fare. By the end of the week I am typically so hungry I could eat a horse. This week I did just that - a peppered foal steak to be precise. I always find the baby animals, particularly the very cutest ones, are the tastiest to eat.

After a delicious lunch and a few beers at beer club we sometimes head off to experience some nightlife in Sauðarkrókur at a bar named Mælifell. With 700kr beers (of which they only offer one variety), plenty of ladies and generally odd music (I almost choked when I heard MC Hammer's "can't touch this") it is the place to be. Well, in Sauðarkrókur at least. Still, I'm not ever going to say that I miss "The Shed" or "The Thirsty".

Skulí's afmæli partí, Iceland

I've been embroiled in a vicious race war with 'Dan the hairy American' this week. In the end it turned out to be a classic case of mistaken identity (undoubtedly arising from the fact that Americans are stoopid). The race war ended without harm to either party when I explained that Australians are descendant from retarded monkeys and are generally unhygienic - not New Zealanders. The ones I really feel sorry for in these sort of situations are the Polar Bears. With the confusion cleared up, and our rivalry once again reduced to comparing the amount of hair on our faces, the weekend was free for mischief.

Skulí Skulasson, head of Hólar University, turned 50 this week. In typical Icelandic style a large party had been organised for months. After a stirfry of hot and spicy curry at my place, and possibly already one too many beers, we all boarded the bus and headed to the community hall in Hofsós about 30 minutes away. We had been warned that this affair could end up being a bit formal (probably the reason for having one too many beers before hand...) but we were all a little surprised at what eventuated. Unlike most party's, where there may be one or two speeches from close friends and the like, Icelanders really go all out. There were powerpoint presentations, skits, songs and all manner of tributes to Skulí - who is undoubtedly a great man and loved by many.

The formal proceedings, which were all in Icelandic, lasted for 4 hours

I'm dressed formally but still manage to look rough as guts

For us foreigners however, the proceedings were all a little confusing and much much too long. Luckily for us we had been considered, and there was a steady stream of 'mini' Thule's (300ml cans of Icelandic beer) and red wine (shame it was from Australia) at our disposal to ensure we were kept entertained. Not being able to understand what was being said, and for some of us what was going on (not due to language as much as inebriation) we decided to make our own fun by taking stupid photographs of each other and generally being culturally insensitive by having more fun than those people paying attention to the presentations. I would like you to meet my partners in crime, in no particular order.

Rán (Icelandic), Camille and Soizic (French)

My MSc supervisor Bjarni (Icelandic) and Dan my big bearded nemesis

Pamella (American) and Camille's boyfriend Anup (Nepalese)

Hlin 'Queen of the Valley' (German) and Rán

Anup drunken munching

Rán and Camille - probably laughing at one of my hilarious jokes

With the formalities over, and the free beers decimated, it was of course time for a little dancing. I don't know if I have danced like this since school practice for ball dances. As you can see from the amount of grey hair in the picture below - The Foxtrot and The Charleston are staple dance floor favourites. Luckily, the speeches took so long that there was only enough time for an hour or so of horrendous dancing to endure before the bus driver was impatiently leaning on the horn outside.

Dance dance dancecution

Never being one to quit easily, It was back to my place to continue the festivities - minus the dancing and the old people. Various types of Icelandic alcohol invited themselves, including an interesting mix named 'Fisherman.' I can only assume that this was the cause of my pain on Sunday when I finally came out of my coma.

The after party at mine wound up around 6am (yes, I'm flipping the bird)

Field work, Iceland

The best part of the week is always the two (occasionally three) days I like to call the weekend. With the drudgery of reading papers, fumbling through Icelandic language class and the general nothingness of Monday to Thursday behind me, I set off with Rán (pronounced: roun, with a rolled r) to do some field work in Straumsvík, near Reykjavík in the south of Iceland. Our objective was to catch approximately 50 male and female Arctic charr for an experiment that is to be conducted at Verið Station. We stayed in Reykjavík over the weekend, which gave me the chance to indulge in some of the many activities not available in Hólar or Saudárkrókur.

Downtown Reykjavík, Iceland

Instead of staying in a guesthouse, I decided to contact one of my Icelandic friends and see if it was possible to stay with her in the downtown area. It's always good to have a local to show you the good eats, places to steer clear of, and of course ensure that your lack of language skills doesn't get you in to too much trouble. Lilja certainly delivered. On Friday night we were on our way through the Christmas light strewn streets towards Sægreifinn (translates to 'Sea Baron' - which is ironic because he can't!) restaurant on Geirsgata 8, 101 Reykjavík. It's open daily, and at 750 kronur for a lobster soup you can't go wrong.

Downtown Reykjavík at dusk

Lobster soup at Sægreifinn is a must try for any visitor

The adventuresome diner will find a couple of other unusual temptations at Sægreifinn. First, there’s the not quite politically correct Minke Whale meat (a species that is not endangered and perfectly legal in Iceland). It is served two ways: heavily smoked on slices of bread, or skewered, flavored with soy sauce and grilled with vegetables. Either way, the meat is delicious and just about indistinguishable from tenderloin of beef. Interestingly, there is no stigma attached to eating whale in Iceland. It really puts a new spin on the debate about whaling - not that I necessarily agree that it is a good idea; but they are a resource that could potentially be managed as sustainably as any other after all. Divide in to groups of three and discuss ...

Minke Whale and Monkfish - extremely delicious if not dubious menu items

As you’ve probably guessed, Sægreifinn is not a sleek place. Rather, it has crude stools made from fish-packing containers, tables of barely finished wooden planks, plastic foam bowls and plastic spoons, and the ubiquitous nautical décor. I was particularly impressed with the dead animals adorning the walls; talk about appetising. Take a look for yourself - click the image to enlarge it.

Sægreifinn on Geirsgata 8, 101 Reykjavík

With my stomach full of lobsters and whales, It was time to get some rest before heading in to the field. Saturday was beautiful, and not really too cold, which was lucky considering I was going to spend knee (and sometimes waist) deep in almost frozen water trying to catch Arctic charr. Our target lake was in the lava fields of Straumsvík, about 10 minutes southeast of Reykjavík.

The un-named lake in Straumsvík about to be zapped

The most effective way to catch large numbers of fish in the short space of time usually allocated for field research is with electricity. An electric fishing machine is essentially a battery in a backpack that the operator carries. When the trigger is pulled, the machine discharges current through the anode (a metal ring on the end of a pole), which then travels through the water before the circuit is completed as the current returns via the cathode (a metal wire that trails behind the operator). This circuit creates an electric field in the water that interferes with the central nervous system of the fish, enabling them to be scooped up in a hand net for closer study.

Electric fishing is not as fun as Trout fishing, but it is easier

After nearly 6 hours of lugging that stupid 20 something kg backpack around, we decided to call it a day. I was so knackered that I had to head back to Lilja's for a little sleep before we headed out again for dinner. Reykjavík really comes alive in the weekend, in most part due to the fact that Icelander's love to party hard. Due to the excessively high price of alcohol, most people drink at home until around 2:30am before heading in to town until dawn. With a heavy schedule of work on my agenda, and a back that felt like it was already severely injured after day 1, I didn't dare to keep pace. Instead, we headed for a leisurely dinner of Seafood Tagliatelle and a few drinks at the trendy Vegamót bar/cafe/nightclub.

Sunday was amazing for one reason more than any other - I got sunburned. WTF? I guess it was my fault for not slip slop slapping on my balaclava. By late afternoon we had enough fish in our tanks to think about heading home. This, people, was a delicously good weekend - and wasn't it so much more exciting than last week's introduction to Icelandic tyres?