Hunting For Northern Lights - Unsuccessfully

 Here are some shots of the lovely little town of Holmavik, our first stop in Iceland. My son and I were so pumped to see Northern Lights, and, of course, saw none. By all the indicators it was an absolutely epic week for seeing Northern Lights in Iceland that early January 2017. Unfortunately we were covered in a thick comforter of clouds the entire week, which made the days more desolate and beautiful and the days and nights warmer. 

My son and I stayed up as late as possible, taking turns going out for late night walks to try and find the Northern Lights. In the distance you can see the church where we first stopped upon reaching Holmavik (chronicled in an earlier post) where we were almost lifted off the ground by the howling winds.

Hallgrimskirkja

 Here's a picture taken during the endless night that is early January in Iceland, that doesn't begin to do justice to the beauty of the Hallgrimskirkja, the massive church dominating downtown Reykjavik, Iceland. Because of shorter winter open hours, and because my son and I were running round exploring other things all day, we sadly didn't get the chance to make it inside.

Museum of Sorcery and Witchcraft

 And more Iceland pictures back from the ether. I mentioned the Museum of Sorcery and Witchcraft in Holmavik before, but now let me post some pictures.  The woman who runs it, Thorin, and I are still friends on Facebook. The high point is doubtless the Necro-Pants, but it's all pretty entertaining. Plus, in the first week of January it's about the only place to get a meal in Holmavik - and Thorin is a great cook.

The Talking To Bread Stage Of The Pandemic

 I really should create a label called Pandemic, since so many of my posts, albeit short ones, relate to the Great Isolation. A couple days ago I was making myself French Toast, which is my once a week treat for myself. I ended up having one piece of bread too many and as I was putting it back into the bag I found myself say, to the break, "Well, my brother, looks like you get to live another day." Naturally, I started laughing at this pandemic-generated loneliness/oddity. I am happy to report that I didn't use my hand to turn the bread into a mouth and respond, "Thanks, my brother!"

The Past

 But, as Proust reminds us, "It was in vain that I lingered before the hawthorns."

T

Sintra, Portugal

Remembering Beirut

Not surprisingly, the horrible accident in Beirut has me thinking about the trip I made there years ago. It was when I was on my sabbatical at Zayed University in Abu Dhabi. It was the first that Laura, my girlfriend and eventually my fiancee, ever went away for a trip - or, as she charmingly put it, a "jolly." It's so strange to think about now. The city has such a tragic modern history, and we managed to sneak in during a lull in various troubles. It's devastating to think of the suffering of those people, who were very kind to us on the trip.

My own personal feelings matter very little in the face of the tragedy, but I'd also be lying if I didn't add that thinking about how happy we were then and how it later all fell to pieces moved me quickly from wistful to remorseful to crushingly sad.

Upgraded to Dangerous

I've now included several posts, including this one, of one of my most favorite days (not surprisingly, duh). It was the day in northern Iceland when Gary and I took off for a long drive even further north along the coast. We had been considering it for a couple days but the road was closed; keep in mind that the trek was a dirt road perilously clinging to the edge of a mountain with nothing to keep you from sliding off into the North Sea - oh, and it was the first week of January. On our last full day in Holmavik the road designation was upgraded from Closed to Dangerous, and off we were. As I've discussed, we began and ended the day in thermal hotpots, but in between we embarked on the drive north. We were trying to reach another town, whose name I'll have to look up, but we never made it that far. Why we were going to the farther town is anybody's guess because I think the one hotel there, where we were allegedly going to eat, was almost certainly closed (why would it be open? the one road leading to it was closed, but we were optimistic - of course, we're also determined to visit the Democratic Republic of the Congo soon so I wouldn't trust our judgment). We managed to not slide into the North Sea, obviously, and about two-thirds of the way north we finally found an stretch of road wide enough for us to turn around, and, at least briefly, common sense reigned.