Meat party, Iceland

For a once vegetarian then vegan now carnivore, this was a good week. This was the week of the 'meat party' as it is now known. This Saturday night was one of the culinary highlights of my time in Iceland to date. The party itself was nothing special, but the caterer must have been a flippin' magician. Much like all the other party stories I've told you, this one starts by me walking in to a room full of strangers half sozzled on mini Thor's.

This was the 'meat party' for an unknown meat thief and Hans

It took a good 45 minutes until Hans and I met the hosts of the party or any of the guests. During that time we devoured Reindeer steaks, two kinds of smoked Duck, roasted Auk, baked Puffin and roast Lamb. To top it off it was all Fondue! Meat and cheese, I mean are ya wise? Because the socialising was kept to a minimum for the two of us, all I have left ior this week's post is a picture of me eating a Reindeer. Enjoy it. I did.

Reindeer steak ... like you wouldn't believe

Dig work? Iceland

I don't know why I'm surprised. Most people expect snow in Iceland. Having never really had to 'live' with snow before, there were some things I had to learn. Let's see what it takes to get to work here during winter.

Lesson 1: How to mentally prepare yourself to leave your apartment

First you have to want to leave the house. Then you have to get prepared to leave the house, which means donning a jersey, jacket, scarf, hat, gloves and waterproof pants if you can be arsed. Once you're ready to go you realise that it's probably not that simple.

Lesson 2: How to shovel snow so you can physically leave your apartment

More often that not you're going to have to break a sweat before you even get to your car. The task of shovelling snow is made particularly more difficult if you don't actually own a snow shovel. Note: although it seems like it might, a broom does not work.

Lesson 3: How to scrape just enough ice and snow off your windshield to see

Once you've finally made it to your vehicle (with wet pants if you forgot those waterproof overs) you've still got a couple of tasks to do. The car has to be started so it has a bit of time to warm up before you carve your way in to town. This is a good opportunity to call 'shotgun' and flip on the seat warmers which usually only work in the two front seats. Next you have to get out your scraper and brush (if someone hasn't already borrowed it for their car) and set to clearing a hole in the windscreen large enough for you to see out of but not so big that it takes you 20 minutes to get the job done. Once the car is de-iced and warmed up, and you are icy, wet and freezing it's time to go to work.

Lesson 4: How to drive on powder and recognise the road

Lesson 5: How to overcome obstacles when making a right turn

Driving in knee deep powder can get a little hairy, especially when the visibility is down to 5 metres. Despite the fear you better stick to the 90 km/hr speed limit because you're probably already running late. Just watch out for snow drifts across the road which could de-rail a train and any vehicles that may have gotten stuck on the road in front of you. Needless to say the demister should be dialed all the way up to 'shred mist' for the journey. Whingers and back seat drivers should be left at home.

Lesson 6: How to park your truck so as not to get stuck

If/when you actually make it to the office you can't just whip the car in any old way. I like to roll it in hard and fast to dislodge any snow occupying my spot, slam it in reverse and get outta there asap and then ease back in again. In doing so I not only have a bit of fun but also ensure that the snow beneath the tyres is a little compacted and therefore unlikely to ice up and swallow my car during the workday. Nothing sucks more than coming out of work and having to not only learn lessons 1-3 all over again but then to have to fart about trying to get your car rolling.

Lesson 7: How to hate work before you even get inside

So you're already half an hour late when you get out of the car to discover the office looking like this. Not only did you have to dig your way out of your own home, you now have to dig your way in to work. Thing is, by the time you've come this far, digging out one more door is a lot easier than turning around and going home. So tell me boss, if laziness has no place at work then why can't I be bothered to go home?

My 27th birthday, Iceland

I know we all use google every day, but have you ever asked it this? As retarded as it may be, once you turn 25 or so you kind of stop caring. Also it is still hard for some of us to count past the limit of fingers + toes. Never the less this week it was my birthday. Let me talk you through it in painstaking detail.

Phase 1 of birthday #27 nearing completion

First obviously there was the soak in the hot pot to ease all those extra aches and pains I've accumulated over the past year. With all the snow and ice about I was lucky not to do my back in a few years prematurely. And before you say anything - no I wasn't alone - someone had to take the picture didn't they. Still it wasn't exactly a party pot that particular night. Next things next, and as it usually is food was involved. Cat whipped up some tasty birthday type treats to feed the meagre scraping of "party goers" I could muster up.

Remember saveloy's, sausage rolls, mum's pav and way too much candy?

Once the goodies were safely being washed down by a multitude of mini Thor's it was time for the embarrassing art of the presents. Now there were others of course (of which I don't happen to have pictures) for which I am very thankful, but none came close to being as awkward to receive (pun not intended) as this one.

Woollen - for whose pleasure exactly?

... mine apparently ...

Once the glow in my cheeks had subsided and everybody's eyes were off my crotch we got in to a serious game of Wii 10 pin bowling. This game has received some serious attention during the dim dark nights of winter, but I am yet to break a 1,000 points average. This the Wii deems is what separates novices from professionals. Couldn't even bend the rules for my birthday. Do I need to explain what a birthday sulk is? Apart from a minor tanty the evening was as uneventful as any other 27th birthday I expect. No wrinkles suddenly appearing, no major sagging to speak of and certainly no wise words filling my noggin. May I be so lucky again next year.

Thanks to everyone who helped make my birthday special - whether you were here in Iceland with me, called me on the phone, hit me up on facebook, sent me a txt or knitted me a woollen party hat. You guys are all O for Owesome.

The little things, Iceland

When it's the middle of winter outside you begin to appreciate the little things that make the cold dark times a bit more fun. You might think in Iceland that means trolls and elves but I refer of course to friends, partying and fish (for some people not necessarily in that order). Fortunately this week our slightly eccentric German friend we all know and love as Sonja decided to turn "twenty something" this week just to break the monotony of daily living. With the promise of a small shindig and plenty of very cold ones on offer a car load of hopefuls set off south to a small town near Varmahlið.

The hostess with the mostess ... Sonja

As with any good event, thanks must be given to "the ladies in the kitchen who put on such a lovely spread for us here today". Sonja really outdid herself with the catering and could literally have fed the Marist Old Boys Saturday arvo post game style. While I gorged myself on meatballs, pastry whatsits, chocolate stuff and some kind of cake thing the other guests were issuing happy birthdays all over the place.

Bjarni and Cat watch on as Dan mauls Sonja

Condolences for another year lost

Presents!

With most of the food dispatched shortly after my arrival the Jaggermeister took a beating courtesy of Catherine Chambers. She doubtless had accomplices but they need not be named, and I've already admitted eating all the food.

Cat slipperying in another Jaggie without being noticed

As with any story staring with Jagger, I can't really remember how it all ended up except to say that I woke up safely in my own house. And with that piece of good news ... let me move on the the fish. I stumbled across this half frozen monstrosity outside of the office the other day. You will remember it from here and probably more memorably from here as the disgustingly aromatic Hárkarl that adorns the table at þórrablot. I figure they must just be letting this one get a little more inedible than usual seeing as the festival was only a few weeks ago ... or they've never heard the phrase "be a tidy kiwi".

A Greenland Shark festering in it's own deep sea marinade

Seeing (and more seriously smelling) this fish made me glad that I work with a much more photogenic species. This is an Arctic charr that is being raised in the aquaculture station where I work. I like to help out with the routine measuring and stuff every month or so just and pretend I'm back on the Waitawheta or Esk and have just bagged myself a nice Rainbow on a tasty little dry fly. Dah. Hey - it passes the time OK. Don't judge me for being a fisherman.

A trophy to be sure, but I'm all about catch and release

Northern lights, Iceland

Living in the dark has it's benefits. You never have to worry about getting burned, sunnies aren't compulsory and you get to see these little beauties out ya window on almost any given evening.

The Aurora Borealis or 'Northern Lights'

Zap!

Ooh ahh pretty ...

February is a particularly good time to see the lights because it's the middle of winter - so deep inky black darkness is not hard to find around midnight. For those of us lucky/stupid enough to live in the middle of nowhere, light pollution is also at a minumum. Midnight road trips therefore became commonplace for a few hardy Holar residents willing to tolerate the freezing cold for the chance to see a spectacle that truly has to be seen to be believed. All of the pics you see here are courtesy of Birgir (and to tell you the truth don't really do the scene justice). My camera ceases operations when it feels that it's too cold out. Living in Iceland it has caused me considerable trouble to say the least.

Mark, Birgir and Eydis caught in the flash

Northern Lights devouring Sauðárkrókur

Death ray intensity

Pow pow pow, Iceland

The sun is back - snow is good - work is suffering - I am happy.

Unbelievable conditions - sun and snow ...

The longest tow

Plenty of time to soak in the scenery on the way up

Snow blindness isn't really and issue

The view from the top (click to enlarge)

Oh so freshies

As some of you may know, I am a bit of a sun worshipper. Give me jandals and shorts over boots and insulated body suits any day. This week however, I began to appreciate some of the benefits of below freezing temperatures and living so close to the North Pole. These conditions, it turns out, are perfect for laying on acres and acres of powder.

I spent more hours on the slopes this week than I did in the office. Unbelievably on some days we were the only people there, which meant we could ride virgin powder for hours. Sitting in the car waiting for the back window to defrost enough to let us put our gear away, we were amazed at how many runs of untouched snow remained. It's just a shame it gets dark so early ...

Struggling to stay afloat in the delicious powder

You can all guess what happened next .. no Chesty - it wasn't a backflip...

It was something much less awesome, involving snow in my pants

Pamela shredding the gully run

The gully run shredding Örn

Birgir takes a seat

Late arvo carving

Lines lines lines

Food is good, Iceland

Perhaps not surprisingly, the week after resolving to get fit I am thinking of, writing about and of course eating food. I managed to munch my way through more packets of 2 minute noodles than I care to remember in my first 3 months here so I figure I owe myself. These days I head to Olafshús to fill up on Icelandic cuisine before returning to work to sleep away the afternoon. The restaurant serves up goodness like horse pepper steaks, trout, wolf fish, monk fish, cod (and countless other equally delicious species), caramelised potatoes, pizza and the pièce de résistance - half a chicken stuffed with chips. The only thing that makes the chicken better is the fact that it is called kjúklingar (always pronounced loudly/yelled: que-cling-ger!) in Icelandic. Flippin' gold. This restaurant is my favourite place in Iceland ... seriously.

Olafshús - the reason for coming to work

On Saturday the "foreigners" as we are affectionately known put on an International Food Night here in Holar. The Americans took over the school's kitchen for the afternoon and pumped out chilli, cornbread, chicken wings, deep fried cheese balls, peanut butter square, seven layer dip and Dorrito's. Frenchie whipped up a couple of onion tarts.

Soizic, Olí (of Olafshús fame) and some guy in a dress

I freaked out for a while contemplating how the hell I was going to hold my own with people who know what an oven does apart from hold up the kitchen counter. Finally, after confirming that we and not the Australians actually invented it, I decided on trying my luck at the miraculousness that is Pavlova.

The Pavlova aftermath

With a few beers to calm my nerves I crammed half a dozen eggs in to a mixer, piled in some sugar and set the dial to 'whip ass.' While the cooking was happening I headed over to see what Dan and Cat were up to because I couldn't stand all that noise. A few hours later I meandered home and found a very fruity looking cake awaiting me. Who knew baking was this easy.

New Zealand cake

While we were all in bed relatively early (perhaps due to the homemade Icelandic vodka that was circulating) the dinner was a success, and as far as I know there were no reports of food poisoning. We even got invited to dinner by some folk keen to show us how much more delicious Icelandic food is than 'foreign food.' A tour of the vodka distillery 'out the back' is of course included. It sounds like mischief, so as long as they don't invite us over for þorrablót (you'll have to wait until the 7th of February to find out about this insanity) you know I'll be there.

Umm, yes the exercise is going good. Thanks for asking ...

Exorcism, Iceland

Being a new year, having worked through the holidays, and feeling a bit guilty after getting home from a party at 4am on a Friday morning before work, this weekend I resolved to start "looking after myself." Instead of eating the microwaveable meals that the Silver Ferns seem to love so much, I am trying a somewhat revolutionary approach - not drinking beer combined with getting off my ass once in a while. I think the process is called exercise.

Bandi games are now scheduled for two days a week, and I have even taken up yoga ... yeah I don't know what's going on either. The snow has been a bit rubbish of late, so outside activities have been limited to walking on snow rather than sliding on it. Being as lazy as I am, for my kick start in to the world of fit people I chose to attempt climbing the nearest hill to my house - the 420m high Gvendarskal.

Holabryda and Gvendarskal ledge (left) looming ominously out my back door

The weather was a bit fierce, and annoyingly the wind was still ripping all the snow off the top of the mountain where it should be. Ordinarily the walk takes about an hour or so, but today Pamela and I battled up the icy slopes for more than two hours. The deep snow drifts that had accumulated in the valleys were begging for a carve or two, but alas, the large rocks strewn about would have meant that attempting a run on a board would almost certainly have ended badly. I was forced to walk up AND down.

Battling - pure and simple

My laziness, general poor level of fitness and bad weather combined to make me hate exercise all over again. By the time we reached the top one side of my face was partially frozen, I was cold, I was tired, and we still had to get down. Let's see how long this health buzz lasts.

That is a fake smile - I am not that happy, but Pamela probably is

Warning: science, Iceland

I only got new years day off this year, so was in the office doing all kinds of sciency type stuff while everyone else was enjoying the obligatory stat days. Certainly a big change from my lifestyle before I left New Zealand, where my time was split largely between tanning on the beach and fly fishing for trout. Over the holidays I have come to realise something that most of you probably already knew. I am a SCIENCE NERD. Unbelievably good looking sure, but a science nerd none-the-less.

Nerd station

Consider the general layout of my office for a minute. Atop a sterilised counter illuminated by fluorescent lighting sit my tools of the trade. If you look closely at the photograph above, you might be able to make out a few dead giveaways of nerdiness. Take the microscope for example - who else but a nerd would have this on their desk at work instead of a computer permanently displaying facebook? Just out of frame to the left is a small container where I keep scissors, forceps of several different sizes, a stick with a pin on it (aka sting), scalpels, and water proof paper. I also keep my pens in there - only because none of my shirts have pockets. The small bottles in the background obviously indicate my proficiency at mixing all manner of dangerous chemicals. The lab coat of course is a definite giveaway.

When I'm in my lab coat you know what time it is ... it's science time

The reason I was in the office instead of enjoying some time off was that everyone else was gone and some poor fulla had to complete the sampling for a few projects. This mainly involved collecting and preserving fish eggs, which are going to be analysed by even bigger nerds than me for reasons I don't completely understand.

I spent 14 days over Christmas collecting and preserving fish eggs

My new nick-name adorns my nerd shelf

Anyone who knows me also knows I should not be allowed access to this

When I wasn't busy doing other people's work, I was busy with my own macabre business. The next few months of my life are going to be spent analysing the contents of some 1,000 or so fish stomachs. A long and drawn out process to be sure. The aim is to eventually relate the way fish look to the things they eat. The point, briefly, is to see how natural selection (i.e. the idea of the survival of the fittest) has influenced the great diversity of animals that share our planet. Cough ... NERD ... cough.

Dwarf Arctic charr head and stomach ready for analysis

Buckets of fun

I figure if nothing else all this work identifying creepy crawlies should make it a lot easier for me to catch trout once I'm all finished. After all, if you know what the fish are eating then you can surely tempt them with some similar looking tasty morsel from your fly box. Combined with my work on foraging behaviour planned for summer, Dr Fish is looking set to become deadly if he ever makes it back to New Zealand streams.

Taking the idea of 'match the hatch' to ridiculous extremes

That could take some time however, considering how many bugs are likely to be in each of the 1,000 stomachs, how bad I am at identifying the things and that my computer still runs MS DOS. The upside of course is that I won't be wasting any time surfing the internet or updating my facebook status every 15 minutes ...

My PCs power is only outdone by it's elegant simplicity