Reykjavik: Erster Tag.

To be honest, I'd been a little more than slightly regretting my decision to take such a roundabout trip home. By the time the goodbyes had begun and my suitcase was getting heavier and heavier, all I wanted to do was fly straight from Hamburg to my adobe doorstep. But then again, I really wanted to get back to Detmold and, hey, when else was I going to have a ticket to Iceland in my possession? Sometimes complaining is such a luxury.

However. As the plane descended through the clouds and the lava-encrusted southern coast of Iceland spread out below my window like a fantastical 3D puzzle, all my qualms vanished like Icelandic darkness in July. There were mountains, volcanoes, crazy cloud and shadow formations, crevices, wave-studded shores, and a kind of flat emptiness that was wilder that any landscape I'd yet encountered. My baby camera couldn't do it justice and I couldn't wait to land.

Upon landing in Keflavik and discovering that, yes, Iceland did actually exist, I took out some pretty new play money from the ATM and got myself on a bus to Reykjavik. I could almost feel the other passengers around me drawing back in discomfort as my drool trickled down the window for the entirety of the 45 minute trip through dramatically creviced lava fields on the way to the city. I don't think that window had ever been so clean as when I left it.


When the bus arrived at the central bus terminal in Reykjavik, I was taken aback by how small the city was. I don't know why I expected a city of only 120,000 inhabitants to look like a booming European metropolis (though my recent visits to places such as, oh, Istanbul, might have had something to do with it), but my preconceptions were pleasantly jumbled. Part of this pleasantness was due to the fact that my route to the guesthouse which had looked long on paper was actually quite short and painless (except that it was all uphill, a fact that the paper version ignored). I checked in without trouble, made myself ready for exploration and headed out into the early evening light. To my delight, the largest building in Reykjavik, the Hallgrímskirkja cathedral, was only a three minute walk away. This meant that it was pretty impossible to get lost.


This church seemed very out-of-place amongst the memories of the lava-cut landscape still in my mind and the colorful little Scandinavian streets. Later on, Sarah and I concluded that it looked like it came straight out of the set of Metropolis or from a bleached-out version of the Emerald City. It was one of the barest churches I had ever seen, with virtually no decoration so that the eye was drawn to the sweeping high arches of the ceiling or blue sky out of the simply sophisticated windows. The main feature of the church was a giant organ in back, which was being played by an incredibly talented student. The sound of the minor tones falling swiftly over one another filled up the great room like a booming waterfall of noise. All I could do was sit there and watch the student's back as she flailed and twisted to reach all the little black notes in time, throwing herself back as the final chord echoed through the space. No one clapped.

I snuck out once she had finished and wandered down a cute shopping area toward the downtown, until I was distracted by a glimpse of mountains (better photos later) and ended up at the harbor, where I stayed for the next several hours as the light and sky shifted in various new ways that expanded and glorified my sunsetty ideals of beauty.





At this point it was about 10.30pm. The sun was still high enough to provide full light, but low enough that it threw shadows out that almost created another dimension. For example, you can see the perfect shadow of a motorcyclist zooming by on this boat. It reminded me of Peter Pan's shadow.

A rainbow on the far side of the harbor painted the sky for about an hour straight. There must be some sort of record for that.

The best place I found to watch the sun actually set some time later was in an old junkyard that didn't look like it had once been touched by a tourist's flipflop.

The light, the light, the light.

It was only as the fiery hues became softening pastels that I headed back to the guesthouse to crash after a couple jam-packed weeks of packing and traveling, as well as an exhilarating photographic spree. As much as I couldn't wait to sleep, I also couldn't wait to wake up the next morning for more exploration and for the late-afternoon arrival of my travel buddy.

Loose ends.

First of all, I would like to thank Starbucks for sharing free wifi with all their customers, even those of us who do not approve of their quest for world domination.

As previously stated, I am no longer in Germany, but rather in the Great AmUHrican Southwest. I still have a few little stories/moments/photos from this summer that I'd like to share before concluding the virtual documentation of a years worth of adventuring, so here we go.

A sprinkling of varied cool happ'nin's:

Our last Smith-financed field trip was to an old convent in Lüneburg, which was still in function today and had some of the most radical paint jobs I'd ever seen. We had a nice tour, which was then followed by an even nicer lunch in their personal restaurant.


Next point of interest: The World Cup. As soccer fanatics could affirm, the German team did quite well in this year's tournament, finally coming in third place in South Africa. The atmosphere in Germany during the games only got more and more hot and bothered as the team progressed. German flags covered cars, windows, restaurants, painted faces, t-shirts, and even doughnuts in bakeries. I just happened to be in Europe during the World Cup four years ago and remembered a similar level of passionate fanhood from all the Italian immigrants in Belgium. Being in Germany experiencing all the excitement for the German team was even more exhilarating. Well, only until they lost in the semi-finals and the streets of Hamburg were bathed in tears. Even the train notification boards kept travelers updated on the score during each game, so that none had to feel left out.

Our last few weeks in Hamburg were also sprinkled with a couple semi-spontaneous classy picnics in Planten un Blumen, one of which was followed by a Wasserlichtkonzert, which I remembered fondly frequenting last fall.

This made me happy.

The shared kitchen in my hall was kept warm during the last few weeks by me trying to use up various baking ingredients. This caused several of my neighbors to try to make friends, even after two semesters of failing to acknowledge my existence. Just proof that stomachs are the easiest way to access one's heart. This was a chocolate/peanut butter chip banana bread, baked for my theater group by request of the producer.

I was quite pleased to leave my dorm one morning in early summer to find that a good chunk of the sidewalk was bordered by yellow, and later red, roses. Always a pretty sight in the morning.

Our very last Smith function was our Abschiedsessen, meaning a big fancy meal that we shared at a semi-swanky restaurant right on the Elbe. We took this group photo afterward, which is complete with Smith teacher-types, but missing two student-types.


Before I knew it, it was time to strip my room of color and personality. This is a sad process and I am always a little overcome by the sheer whiteness of a previously personalified space. It's also a process that I've gotten quite used to in the last year, so it wasn't as difficult as I had expected, though still sad nonetheless.

I was still finishing my coursework for the semester even after my room colors had declined in saturation. Our last classes happened in mid-July. This is usual for German students, but nearly impossible for we Americans who were used to classes being over at the beginning of May. These were my notes taken during the last of one of my German classes, which was preceded by a conversation about Jurassic Park and an episode of Dr. Who.

My last few days in Hamburg whizzed by, as documented in a previous post. The short time I had in Detmold whizzed by as well, as short and delightful times often do. It was a very low-key and relaxed visit with my deutsche Mutti and Vati. Friends came and went, as did the rain. Much of my time there was spent drinking tea with Sabine, repacking, and sleeping. Even though I was only there for a day and a half, it was important for me to go back one more time to say goodbye -- though it wasn't really goodbye because I know I'll be back sometime. It was also a relief to spend my last couple days in Germany only speaking German, perhaps as a final proof of everything I had accomplished linguistically during that year. (Or perhaps just for my pride.) The afternoon before I left, Sabine made delicious waffles, which was rather reminiscent of my year in Belgium. Sometimes it's funny how the world goes in circles.

Sabine and I woke up early early on the morning of the 30th and she drove me to a train station in a nearby town where I would begin my rail journey to Frankfurt and then my air journey to Iceland. We were quiet in the car as we drove up and around hills and fields that were all saturated in morning mist. This was the last picture I took in Germany while waiting for my train. Plain. Simple. Beautiful. Just how it needed to be.

I didn't have much trouble getting to the airport. My trains and transfers went smoothly enough and I finally managed to get to the right terminal with all my goodies in Frankfurt, where I then had to wait an hour and a half just to check in for my flight. Thankfully security was a breeze, and before I knew it, I was descending over that mysteriously green island just under the Arctic Circle. That post to come.

Swords & More.

It's the name of a store that I passed every day in Hamburg, as well as what was found at a big medieval festival on the outskirts of the city that a group of us decided to explore one weekend. I was pretty surprised when we showed up to find that we were some of the only people present, but we found ways to amuse ourselves regardless of the calm. Some of these ways included shooting bows & arrows, throwing axes, watching sword-fighting, contortionists, jesters throwing fiery objects, parades of the plagued and mythical beasts, feeding caged prisoners, witnessing jousting matches with knights riding through fire, listening to bagpipe rock bands (bagpipe = Dudelsack auf deutsch), and drinking fruity Belgian beers and mead (Meth auf deutsch). Photos?

...One could also purchase chainmail bikinis colored in the German flag.

Epic? I think so.

update

Hey all,
I got home safe and sound, but am suffering from a lack of internet at the new casa. Long story, hopefully should be remedied by... next week. For now I'm learning to live off the grid, however willingly (or un-). Updates to come. Sometime.
Love, m.

Hello...

...from Reykjavik, where the sky and light alone are enough to steal your soul.

Yesterday: Whale-watching under the midnight sun.
Today: Swimming in geothermal steam pools and riding Icelandic horses over purple blooming lava fields. Also, sheep's head jelly and rye bread ice cream.
Tomorrow: I think I'll fly to America. Haven't done that in a while.