Right now in Iceland the country is celebrating something called þorri (pronounced 'Thorri'). Every Icelander that attempts to explain it to me has described it as "Old Food Month." For a whole month Icelanders reflect on the way their ancestors used to survive by eating foods such as dried fish, sheep head, rotten shark, ram testicles, lamb jam, kidneys, liver and fat. This is not a joke. Colby and I went to the flea market and witnessed this first hand. After eating some dried fish and Read More
The Adventure We Call 2009
Enjoy our Year in Review! Read More
Haley is 5!
I feel like I have committed a crime in the blogosphere by not blogging about my child's birthday. Yes, Haley turned 5 last month and is now officially a little woman. She never ceases to amaze me and I cannot get over her brains and beauty (the killer combination). Haley has made a few friends the last 9 months and it was fun to invite them and see them all play together. She wanted to play Go Fish and Old Maid, so those were the party games. We made a creative, Read More
Side Business
It has happened to me three times now, so I'm wondering if this is an Icelandic cultural thing I should know about. The first time, I was having a really hard day. The calendar said it was LATE SPRING, but the weather felt like the dead of winter and every time I went outside I got grumpy. Come to think of it, when I was inside I was grumpy too because I felt entitled to be outside enjoying warm weather. Anyway, I was on my way home and an old man came up to me and the Read More
Cultural Norm
If Finland is a spitting culture and England is a proper culture, I think I've figured out what Iceland is. It is a PEEING culture. I cannot tell you how many times I've looked out my window and seen someone peeing in our back parking lot or out front in the bank parking lot. It is unreal. I have started tapping on the window just to make sure the perpetrator knows he is spotted. Most of the time, the criminal is unashamed.The other day's experience takes the cake. Read More
Búsahalda Byltingir
The other day, I took the kids to a park near downtown to enjoy a few rare moments of precipitation-free fun. We heard some banging in the distance, and immediately I knew what was going on. There was really only one thing it could be. It must be....It had to be....the Búsahalda Byltingir. Darcy and I had just been having a wild ride on the see-saw, and I made her laugh so hard that she threw up all over the front of her coat. It was time to leave anyway, so we made our way home...in the Read More
The Chronicles of Language Acquisition
The last nine months of learning (what is said to be) one of the hardest languages in the world: Month 1: I can say my name, how old I am, and where I am from.My Icelandic is as good as Darcy’s English (2 year old level). I feel completely overwhelmed by the complex grammar structure of this language.There are 48 words for the number one. FOURTY-EIGHT. My husband, Colby, has studied 2 languages with similar grammar and gets it immediately. Although the grammar is ridiculous, I am learning new Read More
Imagine
Last weekend we saw in the news that the John Lennon "Imagine Peace Tower" was being lit up in Reykjavik. Our friend's Dad who was visiting was CONVINCED from a distance that it was the northern lights, but...hey....it's easily confused. We went on a 5 minute boat ride to the island of Viðey (compliments of Yoko Ono herself) and walked in the utter darkness until we reached the light. When our "tour guide" told us to all hold hands and send up our wishes for peace, I saw this picture in my Read More
What is happening to me?!
I have had a really hard week. I feel like I've been welcomed back to Iceland with a slap in the face. I have had very little strength to face all the challenges of being back, trying to get settled in, and starting language class. This morning I found this article that made me feel very understood. This exhaustion is normal, and hopefully soon this too shall pass. Read More
13 months and 9 days…
The moment came at the perfect time. We were at the home of Irma, an amazing Finnish woman who glows with the presence of God and who owns a lovely piece of property in the outskirts of town. We had just sat down for afternoon coffee with her and our dear friends here, the Pauls, when Darcy busted in the front door from playing outside screaming, “I have to go POO-POO!” Colby got up to help her when I heard his phone ring. My stomach immediately dropped and the Finnish fancy cake I was chewing Read More