Ég er búinn... eða er ég?

That's the second relief.

Despite that the concept of tests on Saturday seemed incomprehensible for many, the written part our Icelandic exam was this morning. Despite expecting a complete trainwreck after some truly bad preparation, I believe I managed to pass it. I know I still can't conjugate or decline very well, but it's all starting to come together better than two weeks ago.

Seven of us wandered to sit at babalú's terrace afterwards, and it was warm enough to drop the jacket. Afterwards five of us wandered towards the shore and picked up ice cream on the way, and found a spot where it wasn't absurdly windy. The relief of being done with the exam and the joy of having beautiful, springy weather caused the smiles be loose and the laughter loud. It was so good to be outside again.

I also registered myself as a job searcher yesterday, bought an absurdly big and cute giraffe mug for tea, and possibly found a new place to live in. It'll be a little more expensive than the (already expensive) price I'm paying now and it won't be furnished so I have to look up for a thing or two, but it'll probably be a lot more quiet, and it's in Seltjarnarnes. If it happens, the sea will be so very close in all directions, I get to visit the fun salt water pool more often, and won't be much further away from downtown Reykjavík as I'm now. It'll be an investment, but I think it could be worth it.

I don't really know what the future holds for me. I haven't got a job yet, but there's not much more to worry about studies, so I can devote myself for finding one. The friends I've made are mostly leaving the country in May. One thing is sure though - it'll be a different kind of summer. I'll try to make the most of it.

Oh boy!

I had the oral exam in Icelandic today. It was pair work, thus making it the most stressful thing I would have in my studies in here. We did fine, and I'm sure we both passed it. Such a relief. I've still got written exams in Icelandic and history coming up, but at least I'll only screw up my own stuff if I don't do well in those.

Now I can start committing myself to finding a job. And a new place to live in. That's long overdue, and not sure I can pull it off yet anyway, but at least I'll try harder.

Today I shall have a couple of exquisite and expensive ales, and not feel bad about it at all. It'll be rather chillax from now on.

Also, it looks like I may be able to pull off a curious move and go to the Big Chill festival in England in August. It'll be kickass. And Emmi, if you're still reading, check out these. Some very interesting Polish movie poster art right there. I wouldn't mind covering my walls with some of those.

Down and to the left

Yesterday was dubbed Traveller's day or the first day of the summer according to the old calendar. Of course the beginning of summer was rather vague, since the temperature was just barely above freezing, but oh well. Since the Icelanders seem rather eager to organize all sorts of activities, this couldn't be an exception. In addition to the rather standard "museums and galleries have a free admission" theme day, there were quite a lot of things to do outdoors. One could've gone angling or sailing, embark on guided walking tours, either refining their skills in the Nordic variety or go underground to explore the power plants and caves. ATV's and rather cheap scenic flights over the capital area were at display as well.

The thing that piqued the interest of an exchange student bunch was the discounted horse riding tours at Hafnarfjörður. We planned going there a couple of days beforehand, but when we started moving at 12oo yesterday, half of the group had changed due to cancellations and emergency recruitments. Everybody else seemed rather fresh and enthusiastic, even the trip organizing lady who had just an hour and a half earlier declared that "I'm hung over... No, I'm probably drunk." While that's certainly not the safest horseback condition, she looked considerably more lively when we picked her up later. She managed to assure us that she'll be fine.

Due to the group composition changes, we were just seven instead of the original nine, but that didn't turn out to be a biggie. While we were waiting for our turn in the dressing rooms, the usual silly amusement of wearing the helmets the wrong way and striking very serious looking rider poses for laughs ensued quickly. Instead of being offended, the experienced riders in the group joined the fun.

Around a half of us hadn't been on a horse before and were treated accordingly, being given the most patient individuals to ride and a crash course in steering. It turned out to be quite a popular event, and there were at least thirty of us forming a line when we were about to start going. The Icelandic horses seemed rather apt at this, you quite often see them in lines even when they're just chillaxing in the pastures without anyone around. Mine was a sturdy brown one called Sokki, since he was wearing white socks.

The thrill of starting to move was an unforgettable one. A few instructors were riding in our side and orchestrating the whole parade, and it was probably at least as much up to them to keep the line moving slowly in form. During the first ten minutes I wasn't doing all that much, just learning to adjust to the movement of the horse and trying not to tense the lower back too much. Shortly after that the line was split into two different routes, and we got a little more room around us. It was then when I started to get a grasp of the subtleties of steering him. While I probably could've just sit there without doing anything and manage the tour nicely, telling him when to speed up, slow down and turn did indeed have an effect. At the beginning I felt as if I was on a furry automatic taxi, but in the end it turned out to be a little less automatic and greatly more fun, and still giving me the opportunity to enjoy the valley scenery.

Afterwards our friend bunch kind of split as well, as a part managed to hitchhike a ride, but three of us wanted to take the walk. We wandered towards downtown Hafnarfjörður, and asked the first couple we saw for directions to the bus station. They were going the same way and we joined them, and it quickly turned out that they had housed exchange students before. It's a small world. The town itself looked cozy, tidy, tucked away from the frantic Reykjavík, but conveniently close whenever you need to visit.

Reykjavík excursions

We have a proverb in Finnish which says "hyvin suunniteltu on puoliksi tehty" or "well planned is half done." Let me tell you, that's a mighty fine phrase. Surprisingly truthful.

The shenanigans began around 16.40 yesterday when I noticed I had gotten a letter from Pósturinn. The most I figured out of it was that I had received a package for which I need to pay tolls and taxes, and I need to fetch it from a post office quite a far away. I tracked it down, found a bus line from the route planner and thought that well, I'll give it a go. I also checked that the post office in question should be open until 18.00, and I wouldn't have troubles getting there. It was Friday anyway, so if I didn't go now, I'd have to wait over the weekend. It's not like I can get locked up anywhere or anything, right?

I rushed to Hlemmur just in time for the bus, which was not a full-sized one but a smaller service line type of thingy. The driver was Polish, and after taking the passengers in he chatted a storm with some of his fellow countrymen who were standing at the door. Nonetheless, we departed in time, and after that the driver dug up his phone and called someone. While I couldn't hear what he was talking about, of even figure out the language used, or even really care all that much in the middle of my city admiring, the whole bus could hear when he was finishing the call. Imagine full four minutes of the exaggerated cartoony suck-your-lips kissing sound and way too sugary bai bai's. All this from a bald, middle-aged Polish guy who's seemingly paying more attention to the phone than the bus he's supposed to drive and you are in.

The few passengers were trying not to chuckle too much, but it was all in good spirit and mood, everybody was smiling. Then there was two young looking Icelanders, a boy and a girl probably not even in high school age, holding hands. The girl was at least one head taller than the boy, and they were slightly blushing, smiling and exchanging slightly embarrassed, quick looks with each other. So cute!

I got off the bus where I was supposed to, but I was presented with a new challenge. I saw Pósturinn offices in two different directions, and trusting my instinct, headed towards the more "office" looking one down the road, instead of going up for the more industrial looking district. When I got to the door, I must've been slightly distracted by a cute Icelandic lady in a long, fluffy skirt who just came out, and I waltzed in without giving it too many thoughts, the door was open anyway. There was another set of sliding doors on the other side of the entrance, but to my surprise, they didn't open, even though I was there well before six. I wondered about it for a moment, and after that I noticed a vastly impressive array of security system on the wall. Several different panels for imputting keycodes or keycards. I thought that this probably isn't an office for visitors after all, and turned back.

The outer doors didn't open either.

So there I was, in the hallway of an Icelandic post management building, trapped between the glassy doors. I was quite dumbfounded, but after awhile started to look for a way out. I didn't bother to worry too much, since I doubted that the lady I saw would be the last person to exit that building today. I was looking at the security panels, but didn't dare to touch anything since they didn't seem to contain a clear "open those doors" button. I also saw the occasional person wandering about the other side of the lobby, but there was one more door between me and them, so they probably couldn't hear me knock.

Just as I was about to call the security service phone number I found from one of the panels, someone came out. I greeted him with an embarrassed smile and told him that I couldn't find my way out. Instead of entering some kind of a keycode he reached to the side of the outer doors and pressed a little button. Great. Getting out didn't require any kind of magic or inside information, but I hadn't noticed the small button over there, I just concentrated on the other wall. We laughed it off, and I had some dignity left in me and asked where I was supposed to go with the letter I had, and he pointed out that I indeed needed to go to the industrial looking area instead.

I promptly thanked him, noticed that I hadn't wasted more than 15 minutes of my life being ensnared, and thought that I still can get to the other office before 18.00 even without rushing too much. I did, found the main office and the toll department, only to find out that while the actual post services were indeed still open, the toll office had closed at 15.30. I took a closer look at the Pósturinn letter, and in clear Icelandic it mentioned the different opening hours for the toll office indeed. I would've been too late anyway.

During my stay in here, I've never felt so tourist as I did after all that. I was in a surprisingly good spirit though, just thinking about the old wisdom of "well planned is half done" and smiling at my combination of poor overall planning of the needless-in-any-case trip and the slightly bad luck and extremely good timing that got me locked up in an Icelandic Post building.

That was my afternoon. How was yours?

Aldrei fór ég norður

My Easter shenanigans were greatly overshadowed by excellent success in one of Iceland's national sports, catching a cold. That rendered me nearly immobile, and as a result, I didn't get to make the trip to Ísafjörður's rock festival. Although, everybody I knew had vanished days before too, so I wouldn't have been able to embark on the planned road trip anyways, but would've needed to find alternate travelling methods. I ditched it.

As a secondary result, I don't have much to tell about Icelandic Easter traditions either. What I saw was mostly huge, huge and ornated chocolate Easter Eggs on display at the stores. No mämmi, although Páskaöl might've been rather close, even if in liquid form.

I do not mourn though, for yesterday She had a concert at Laugardalshöll and made it all better. It was an expectedly strange mixture of her old things with a twist and her new things. There was quite a few players in the stage, varying from the brass section to an older man, undoubtedly a musician by profession, who took care of the piano parts with a synthesizer of sorts. And the songs, then. What about a super compressed and gated version of Army of Me? Yes please! Insanely beautiful brass renditions of All is Full of Love and Bachelorette? Don't mind if I do! There were also a couple of songs in Icelandic supported with a harpsichord of sorts, unsurprisingly I didn't know them. Also there was a rather fascinating guest appearance from Antony Hegarty of Anthony and the Johnsons. Definately one of the most inspiring duets I've ever heard.

The new songs seemed quite enchanting, but I couldn't really elaborate much from them. I just believe that Björk fans ought to be in for a real treat in Volta. There was one clear miss though - one of the newer songs made me feel something between frustration and anger. The very generic hip hop style of the song and the even more generic hip hop sounds behind it just didn't compliment Björk at all. That was undoubtedly Timbaland's contribution. Next time, if doing something similar and in need of a producer, she should turn to someone a lot more talented and versatile one. Like, Coldcut or RJD2. For starters.

As if that wasn't a good enough treat, Hot Chip played after Björk. While their music is a little overwhelming and even exhausting when you get exposed to it for longer periods of time, it was also groovy as hell. The amount of head bobbing in the audience seemed like an agreement to me. It was pouring down, but the folks wandering back home seemed in a good enough mood not to care too much.

The Something Random:
- While I never really found Jackass and the likes very funny, this bloke from a Channel 4 show is ace. Legeeetttttt!

The Something Finnish:
- Pitkästä aikaa pitää antaa Yleisradiolle oikein iso käsi. Tuo Pasila on mulle ylivoimaisesti parasta suomalaista televisioviihdettä pitkiin aikoihin. Kaiken kruunaa se, että jaksot näkyypi netistä, vieläpä ilman että henkilöllisyytensä joutuu todistamaan jollakin sähköisellä ID-kortilla, sormenjäljillä, tv-lupamaksukuitilla, verkkokalvoskannauksella sekä postittamalla tämän lomakkeen kolmena kappaleena lähimpään konsulaattiin. Te vaasalaiset toverini: tiedättekö onko Pakkalalla jotakin tekemistä tän sarjan kanssa? Routalemmen hahmosta tulee Näsä niin vahvasti mieleen, että reppeilen jatkuvasti jo on se jännä-fraasin intonaatiolle. Parasta.

Thick stew

A couple of people I'm living with had their birthday in a relatively short timeframe, so they decided to make the celebrations a joint effort. Since these are of the little quirky kind, they did not invite everybody they know asking everybody they know to come as well and go to Kaffibarinn. No-no. Someone had found a nice camping location between the viewpoint and the domestic airport, so instead of high heels and collars we dressed in warm jackets and hiking boots and took off towards Perlan on Wednesday. Our small squad was a curious looking lot, carrying all sorts of at-least-somewhat-dry trashwood we managed to get our hands on. Most of it was splinters that were torn off our former downstairs kitchen, apparently a future room for another tenant. We salvaged what we could.

Speaking of that kitchen, its fate quite well summarizes how this building is maintained. The landlord is apparently turning it into a room since "nobody was using that kitchen anyway." Well, it wasn't very inviting to use in the first place, since all the wooden and metal surfaces were more thoroughly paint splattered than Jackson Pollock works. Not to mention that it was all the time used as a building material and equipment storage. So yeah. From now on we'll have roughly 15 people using one kitchen with three stove hotplates. One short circuited few weeks back.

But anyways. After climbing to Perlan we wandered westwards for awhile, since they didn't remember the exact location. It turned out that we arrived from a little peculiar direction, since the site was located in the bottom of a gorge. We threw our firewood down first and got a little mountain climbing experience. Everybody had enough grip on their gloves and shoes and we were able to descent smoothly and safely. Of course, a brief exploration of the surroundings revealed alternate routes to the camping site, via really tiny stone stairs.

It started getting dark right after we had settled down and lit the fire, producing quite an unusual camping experience. We were located just next to an airport, weren't too far off of a busy motorway, but you couldn't believe it by the complete silence of the surroundings. The occasional plane taking off or touching down excluded, of course. Cooking consisted mostly of stuffing different kinds of small things inside lumps of dough, letting them slowly cook next to the fire and wondering what might come out of it. It worked well.

Tonight we'll have the mixed bag concert and a week later Björk is playing. Good times for the music lovers.

And some randomness:
- Swiss army knives rock. Admitted that I'm late in discovering their usefulness, at least I got there. It's like everything you'll ever need and more in red plastic and stainless steel. Dad gave me one when I leaving, and I seem to find more and more ways to utilize it every day. Mine seems to be some sort of an officer model though, sporting for example a stupendously terrible magnifying glass and a retractable antenna-like pointing stick contraption. I suppose those are useful for the grumpy old generals whenever they need to roll out the map and go to the "alright, this is us and this is them"-mode. No hate for the corkscrew though!

- For anyone with a bit too much time and aural enthusiasm in their hands, there's Ishkur's guide to electronic music. A tremendous amount of effort has been put into that - the descriptions are often amusing and the samples have been cut with excellent precision. I often lose myself listening to the few second long loop which I just conveniently forgot playing on the background. Most of the stuff is pretty uninspiring, but I've found so many new tunes and artists from it. For grooves, check out for example Downtempo -> Chillout. My newest addictions are Hedfunk's Agua and Luke Vibert's Get Your Head Down. Go there, you'll love it.