Palm

I got an odd email the other day, one requesting info on palm trees in Iceland. Here, I'll just go ahead and let you read it yourself:

Hi Maria,
I have been a fan of your blog since last January when I was doing some research for my trip to Iceland. Now I visit your blog and am longing to go back.
I've recently been researching the existence (or possibility) of palm trees growing in Iceland. I saw your photo of people enjoying the outside patio at Sirkus and found it odd that there is a mural on the wall of palm trees.
Do you know of any palm trees in Iceland? I'm having trouble finding some images.

Thank you,
Michelle

I was intending to give Michelle some outdated bla bla about how Iceland is the northernmost banana grower in the world (here's an interesting article comparing Iceland's banana days to Iran's running out of gas) but then I remembered that banana plants are more bushes than trees. I was also going to mention the huge plastic palm at Perlan, but then, on my way home today an amazing thing happened.

Right there, at the end of the Great Wall of China Asian restaurant on Vesturgata, stood a small but stately palm! And I can promise you it hadn't been there only twenty minutes before when I'd walked the same sidewalk in the other direction! There was Michelle's Icelandic palm tree, and all I had to do was whip out my Olympus to snap the shot she wanted. Of course this tree is also not real, but it's Michelle's image conjured up on the snowy streets of Reykjavik like magic.

Evening

At coffee hour in Iceland people are on the move: on their way home from work, from school, on their way to a cafe or to their amma's house for a cup and a slice of spice cake. At this time of year it's a lovely hour when the weather is right, like on this early evening last week down by the city lake. The pretty church is the Reykjavik Independant Church which, along with being where my parents were married and where my sister was baptized, has been the setting of a number of very beautiful concerts by the likes of Sigur Rós, Múm and Amiina. (Here's another lovely shot of the church by Weekend Photo.) And the white building to the right is the National Gallery of Iceland, an inspirational place to spend a coffee hour (with a cappuchino and kleina from Kaffitár, the in-house café.)

Oh, and be sure to get you and your loved ones a *New* Iceland Eyes 2008 calendar, mug and/or tee shirt! Check out the links on the side bar to see what's inside the calendar and what options you have with the tees. The calendar, by the way, was awarded Zazzle's Today's Best last week, as well as being in the Top 10 calendars viewed. You love it online, you'll love in person!!!

(More cool stuff always on the way, and do let me know if you have a favorite Iceland Eyes photo that we can make something from.)

Jammers

My father Thor has his own garage band, or at least knows some guys who come over to jam jazz-style every so often. He had a pretty rockin' music career here in Iceland back in 1958-59, singing and drumming with some of the very best talent on the island at the time, many who are now considered legendary, including singer Ellý Vilhjálms. After just a few years in show business he made the decision to enlist in the US Navy, a choice he's never regrette. He's always drummed though, instinctively, every time he hears good music - on the steering wheel, on a desk, while watching tv...anywhere! : ) It's pretty cool that he's still at it, but I suppose one never un-becomes a musician, do they? I asked him to give up some detail on the guys who sat in on this session and here's what he wrote:

From left to right: Friðrik Theodorsson or Frikki T. on trombone, new
to me, Jón Möller on piano, he was one of first guys I played with at
the age of 17, me and Hans Jensson tenor sax. Hans was in the original
Elvar Berg Band from the 60's.

With music, you just get better with time!

Dad also translated into English an article that appeared in the Morgunblaðið newspaper this week, and I thought it would be fun to post it. Here goes:

Quality Jam with Stone…..

Famous in the story of Icelandic jazz is when the Austrian piano master Friedrick Gulda came to Reykjavik, played Beethoven with the symphony then wound up at a jam session where Gunnar Ormslev, Jón Páll, Bjössi Bassi and others played with the American drummer Gene Stone.

Gulda hadn’t thought about sitting down at the piano but after listening to Gene play with the others could not resist and got into it. This was such a memorable, rare event in European jazz that it’s still talked about. Now 37 years later Stone is again in Reykjavik and drove one of the most enjoyable jam sessions ever heard on our ”Frozen Rock”.

It must be fun for a base player to have a swinging “driver” at the drums and bassist Þorgrímur Jónsson was inspired. Great bass tones took advantage of the packed Duckling and his solo’s were short, well build, spiced. Jón Páll played the guitar like he did 37 years ago but better and more mature. He touched every nerve in “Round Midnight” and his solo in “I Hear A Rhapsody” was packed with energy. Sigurður Flosason (alto sax), Ólafur Jónsson (tenor sax) and Óskar Guðjónsson (soprano and tenor sax), had great moments and it was pure pleasure to listen to them in “Lover Man” which critics agree that this take and a recording back in 1976 featuring Ormslev, Rúnar Georgs(tenor sax) and Jón Páll are truly the most memorable moments in Icelandic jazz.

Ellington’s exiting “Caravan” and “Tizolsvar” the end numbers were up tempo and Stone played his solo reminiscent of Buddy Rich and the horns along with Jón Páll spiced their solos with eastern influence in the style of old Hollywood movies. A very enjoyable and artistic performance.

Critic: Vernhard Linnet

Reflect

Painted rainbows and flowers defy the onslaught of frosty arctic winds at the Freyjugata playground near our home. Once again, though, this snow didn't last longer than a day and a night, and has since melted away under drizzly rains.

It is dark in the mornings and evenings, though, and I'm going to offer a little psa* here by highly encouraging visitors in the dimmer seasons to have some kind of reflective item on them while walking about. It may seem nerdy to have a dangling plastic reflector badge pinned to your fancy coat, but it's better than getting hit by a car. Period. Go to a bike store and get something like the stuff seen here and remember to look both ways while crossing, especially at the t-intersection just in front of Hallgrímskirkja. As can be seen in that photo, drivers seriously cut the turn there and we don't want any injured visitors, now do we?

*public service announcement

Lights

The darkness and rains beautifully enhance the winter lights draped among the bare trees of the city. Every year there seems to be more of them, helping to ease us through the season, especially as the snows, with their soft white glow, come less and less frequently.

Skyline Rvk

Good things come in small packages. This definitely fits for the itsy-bitsy city of Reykjavik (expanding suburbs exempt).

After a long weekend in sprawling Paris with its Napoleon III tracts of Hausmann housing running for miles, I'm glad to be back in the heart of a compact metropolis, richer for the experience.

Evening

Out in Grafarvogur, or Grave Valley, a twenty minute drive from downtown Reykjavik, is this little downtownish shopping complex wrapped conveniently around a decent sized parking lot. Its called Spöngin, and surprisingly it's very lively for a suburban mini-mall. It's become what mini-mall designers hope their malls will become: a place to gather, shop and greet. It helps that there's a college, Borgarholtsskóli, a stone's throw away, and a good set of core stores. There's even a gym, filled to the brim on any given Tuesday with the healthy and fit, as seen through the World Class window above.

Read this little article to get a cool view of literary culture surging out of this largest of Reykjavik's many, ever-spreading suburbs. The writers in this Gravarvogur Writers Club prove that explosive things can come out of even the quietest of places.