Stuck

Today, the second of Easter (also a national holiday), snow is dusting our chilly city. No leaves on trees, but persistent tulips are making headway through the cold earth here and there. The economy is grinding through a serious downshifting of gears and there's wonder whether we'll all adjust. And in mid-city a deflated ball never drops back down from the spindly prison it's been caught in, to some child's chagrin.

Wildlife

In the interest of keeping with March's (unintended) animal theme, Iceland Eyes presents SuperCat, protector of Rvk's Lower West Side...

LIfe is wonderful, the sun shines, and either a general sense of peace wafts through the city or some of us aren't in the mindset to process anything else. The long Easter vacation has started and teachers across Iceland must be stoked to be in the profession and get the same extended breaks their students get.

Word has it every single flight out of the country is booked to the hilt. That makes living on a chilly island in the North Atlantic a little more interesting for the next week or so: those of us not heading for Tenerife are stuck here. No exit.

Or you could choose to look at the bright side: we've got the whole place to ourselves...

P.s. a special hello goes out to Pabbi and the Shadygrove crew. Miss you!

Animal Farm

Another wonderful Sunday down at the Zoo (Húsdýragarðinn) at Laugardalur...

The days are getting longer at an amazing pace now. During the first week of March it's like an extra set of lights has been turned on in the heavens, and suddenly 7 a.m. is dawn and 8 o'clock still sees a hint of brightness on the horizon. By the equinox a few weeks from now we'll officially be out of the dark days and cruising slowly toward the eternal sunlight of summer. As I say every year, it's just as amazing each spring that summer will once again come round.

Just waiting for the tulips...

Still Life Rvk

Here's a pretty shot of Ása and Benoný's cute timber house on Skólavördurstígur, well-guarded by all manner of iconic images, as well as an iron fence.

Black Church

A classic 19th church sits in evening light on Brautarholt in Kjalarnes, a small town just to the north of Reykjavík (just to the left of the red box with Esja written in it on this map.) This church, with it's Italian marble baptismal font, is the direct successor to the first church erected in Iceland, at Esjuberg at the foot of Mount Esja just prior to 900 A.D. This building is of course only 150 years old, but Christian structures have stood on this location since the days of settlement over a thousand years ago.

Here is a fascinating document from 1873 on "Some Ruins in..Iceland" for those of you who, like me, love history.

Urban Horse

Land in the greater Reykjavik area that was once reserved for horses, their stables, training rings and trails has slowly but surely been overtaken by housing developments and businesses. This stable resident is living her final winter at one of the last urban equestrian holdouts, a neighborhood of a hundred or so stalls now located just above the Smáralind shopping center. Not so long ago this site was on the very outskirts of the populated urban center. Now you can see Iceland's tallest building peeking from between the mare's ears.

The horses seem used to the constant heavy traffic on the highway just next to their paddock, but it's a sure thing that they'll not miss it when relocated to their new homes on the outer fringes of the Capital area. Of course there's always the question of how long it takes the ever-expanding city to encroach on those new lodgings as well.

Tjörnin by Batty

  Professor Batty has taken me up on my call for submissions of photos and text detailing reader's Iceland experiences. Here are his lovely words:

When a man who has spent his life on the ocean speaks poetically of water, I will give him due consideration. Sitting in a hot pot at the Vesturbæjarlaug Thermal pool, sharing water with a retired trawler captain, a Spaniard, and an elderly woman, the conversation was as warm as we were. Another unseasonably fine day in Reykjavík, I was taking a final visit to the neighborhood pool. The conversation swirled like the water in which we soaked; moving between politics,economics, wool, music and water. Always water, this rock in the North Atlantic, surrounded by water and the fish in it which generated wealth, the heat from the geothermal water making living comfortable here, and the electricity generated from the hydroelectric plants making modern life practical. I mentioned Halldór Laxness and his novel Kristnihald undir Jökli, wherein the "fallen" pastor Jón Primus declared his only theory: "...water is good...one doesn't even have to go by my theory unless one is thirsty." Everybody laughed. Water is good, especially when one is in it with congenial company. When I became thoroughly cooked, I reluctantly left.

Two days later the weather had turned colder, and it was time for me to return to my home in Minnesota where my "real" life awaited. I showered, smiling at the faint odor of sulfur from the hot water - after only a week I was beginning to take it for granted. I dressed and gathered my bags and headed out. I went down and walked along Tjarnagata, past the pond, where the water had frozen over during the night. A few brave souls waltzed over the thin ice, the birds had congregated down by the northern end where some of the water was still open. Geese flew in formation overhead, and as I walked the paths at the southern end of Tjörnin, I slowly scanned this beautiful city.

Suddenly there was more water, but this time salty. I turned away and headed up the hill to the bus depot. I didn't look back again.

Go here for more amazing photos of the professor's travels in Iceland.