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Iceland, parte the last
Nov. 8th, 2003 09:39 pmFannish stuff first, since I had time to look at the hotel's computer this morning: ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
butterfly wrote a couple of great, thought-provoking posts which I wish I had the time to answer more fully. The one who tries the Jossverse characters for the Terry Prattchet definitions of Right, Good and Nice and the difference between them is particularily intriguing.
Moreover, there is a new community devoted to Connor. During my brief glimpse, I already saw one excellent posts pondering the consequences of the removal of Connor, and the mindwipe, here.
Now, on to my travelogue which is fastly drawing to a close.
It rained on my last day in Iceland (still does), heavily, but thankfully without any wind. Which meant I could indeed leave Akureyri as scheduled. A word about Akureyri, which I did walk through a bit this morning: reminds me a lot of Copenhagen, which isn’t that odd, I suppose, considering Iceland was under Danish rule for centuries. White and pastel houses, very nineteenth century, with the occasional veranda. Ideal for Ingmar Bergman films.The most beautiful sight I had of it was the sunset upon my arrival there yesterday by car, because we came from the mountains and could drive down to the Fjord in the dusky, gold-flecked twilight.
When I returned to Rekjavik, I was greeted by Ulrik, who took me to see an exhibition of Iceland’s most beloved treasure – the original of Snorre’s Edda on calf skin, and some of the other sagas, plus the book of the lawmakers, and the book of the land taking. Now I’ve seen thousand-years-old books before, and all the work and love which must have gone into creating them never cease to amaze me. However, I never saw some who really did look like they were made out of leather, dark leather at that – a hazelnut brown in the case of the Edda, with the letters looking like they were etched or stitched into the leather. Amazing. And kept in a darkened room, with light only switching on once you stand directly in front of it, to minimize the exposure. We wouldn’t know anything about the Norse mythology if not for this collection of myths which exists only in four copies - the original collection, that is, as put down by Snorre, aka the Icelandic Homer. Ulrik told me quite a lot about him; as opposed to Homer or even Shakespeare, this national icon apparently had a well-documented life. Near the end of it, he got into trouble with the Norwegian king by first accepting and then declining an offer, and was murdered in his bath.
Two of the leather books were really very tiny, not larger than my little finger, like books for dolls, full of prayers devoted to St. Margaret. The sign said they were supposed to help women with childbirth when bound to their thighs.
Driving through the old part of Rejkjavik, I was struck by the strong primary colours – red, blue, some yellow even, though of course also lots of white – in comparison to Akureyri, and also by the fact there were so many houses with walls of corregated steel. Last time I saw houses featuring corregated steel, it was in South Africa and those were the shacks for the poor. Here, however, corregated steel is expensive and a sign you’re well-to-do.
The highlight of the day was the visit of the Blue Lagoon. Though the name is slightly misleading – it should be called the white lagoon, if you ask me. It started as a by-product of the biothermic powerplant which uses the hot water this country provides so amply. Well, the water they use in this particular power station, coming from thousands of metres beneath ground and being located close to the sea, is full of minerals – minerals meaning almost 50% salt in this case. Some genius had the bright idea to channel it into a giant swimming pool amidst lava rocks as well. Which means you can relax in hot steaming water full of salt (which is good for one’s back) no matter how cold it is outside for as long as you want. They even provide bathing suits and a moisturizing cream afterwards. It’s fantastic. Not quite as lacking of gravity as the Dead Sea, but one does feel wonderfully relaxed and loose. Also not quite real, in the middle of all the salty vapour, the dark rocks and the windy sky.
Two last observations on Iceland:
- being able to refill soup and demand more bread as often as one wants without paying any extras is neat and more than enough to stuff one’s inner Oliver Twist
- such a lot of rainbows in this country, whenever the sun appears, that is; no wonder they imagined Bifrost, the bridge between earth and Asgard where the Gods lived, as a rainbow.
butterfly wrote a couple of great, thought-provoking posts which I wish I had the time to answer more fully. The one who tries the Jossverse characters for the Terry Prattchet definitions of Right, Good and Nice and the difference between them is particularily intriguing. Moreover, there is a new community devoted to Connor. During my brief glimpse, I already saw one excellent posts pondering the consequences of the removal of Connor, and the mindwipe, here.
Now, on to my travelogue which is fastly drawing to a close.
It rained on my last day in Iceland (still does), heavily, but thankfully without any wind. Which meant I could indeed leave Akureyri as scheduled. A word about Akureyri, which I did walk through a bit this morning: reminds me a lot of Copenhagen, which isn’t that odd, I suppose, considering Iceland was under Danish rule for centuries. White and pastel houses, very nineteenth century, with the occasional veranda. Ideal for Ingmar Bergman films.The most beautiful sight I had of it was the sunset upon my arrival there yesterday by car, because we came from the mountains and could drive down to the Fjord in the dusky, gold-flecked twilight.
When I returned to Rekjavik, I was greeted by Ulrik, who took me to see an exhibition of Iceland’s most beloved treasure – the original of Snorre’s Edda on calf skin, and some of the other sagas, plus the book of the lawmakers, and the book of the land taking. Now I’ve seen thousand-years-old books before, and all the work and love which must have gone into creating them never cease to amaze me. However, I never saw some who really did look like they were made out of leather, dark leather at that – a hazelnut brown in the case of the Edda, with the letters looking like they were etched or stitched into the leather. Amazing. And kept in a darkened room, with light only switching on once you stand directly in front of it, to minimize the exposure. We wouldn’t know anything about the Norse mythology if not for this collection of myths which exists only in four copies - the original collection, that is, as put down by Snorre, aka the Icelandic Homer. Ulrik told me quite a lot about him; as opposed to Homer or even Shakespeare, this national icon apparently had a well-documented life. Near the end of it, he got into trouble with the Norwegian king by first accepting and then declining an offer, and was murdered in his bath.
Two of the leather books were really very tiny, not larger than my little finger, like books for dolls, full of prayers devoted to St. Margaret. The sign said they were supposed to help women with childbirth when bound to their thighs.
Driving through the old part of Rejkjavik, I was struck by the strong primary colours – red, blue, some yellow even, though of course also lots of white – in comparison to Akureyri, and also by the fact there were so many houses with walls of corregated steel. Last time I saw houses featuring corregated steel, it was in South Africa and those were the shacks for the poor. Here, however, corregated steel is expensive and a sign you’re well-to-do.
The highlight of the day was the visit of the Blue Lagoon. Though the name is slightly misleading – it should be called the white lagoon, if you ask me. It started as a by-product of the biothermic powerplant which uses the hot water this country provides so amply. Well, the water they use in this particular power station, coming from thousands of metres beneath ground and being located close to the sea, is full of minerals – minerals meaning almost 50% salt in this case. Some genius had the bright idea to channel it into a giant swimming pool amidst lava rocks as well. Which means you can relax in hot steaming water full of salt (which is good for one’s back) no matter how cold it is outside for as long as you want. They even provide bathing suits and a moisturizing cream afterwards. It’s fantastic. Not quite as lacking of gravity as the Dead Sea, but one does feel wonderfully relaxed and loose. Also not quite real, in the middle of all the salty vapour, the dark rocks and the windy sky.
Two last observations on Iceland:
- being able to refill soup and demand more bread as often as one wants without paying any extras is neat and more than enough to stuff one’s inner Oliver Twist
- such a lot of rainbows in this country, whenever the sun appears, that is; no wonder they imagined Bifrost, the bridge between earth and Asgard where the Gods lived, as a rainbow.
