Brautarlækur is a small cottage situated on a 1.7-hectare plot of land within the estate of Krókur, in the upper reaches of Norðurárdalur in Borgarfjörður. I first became acquainted with the place in the autumn of 1986, when my wife dragged me there to help gather sheep for Alla at Hreimstaðir. As the years have passed, the bonds have grown stronger. Bit by bit, I’ve come to know the nature of the land better, as well as its history through my father-in-law’s countless stories of the struggle for survival in the last century.

This is where my wife’s roots lie. She grew up mostly at Krókur until her parents ceased farming. Here lies the life’s work of her parents, her grandparents, and the valley likely holds the history of even more distant ancestors. My two daughters have found immense joy in the moments our family has spent there, far from the bustle of city life. Personally, I feel that as the work of my own hands increases there, my connection to the place strengthens. Perhaps because it makes one feel like a part of the history of the place—and that the place has become a part of oneself.

This account isn’t just about life in the valley, but about the place names that define our horizon from the northwest to the north. It’s a point of pride to know the land; one wouldn’t want to be like the famous ‘Lási the Cook’ who, when asked about Mt. Esja, could only say that the mountains ‘had been there for quite a while.’

Looking northwest, the most prominent feature is Baula, a cone-shaped rhyolite mountain rising 936.6 meters. In 1993, my wife Guðrún and I climbed it in beautiful weather. I remember it like walking up endless stairs, as the mountain is incredibly rocky. Though we were drenched in sweat, the reward at the summit was a breathtaking panoramic view. While the best route is said to be from the ‘shoulder’ between Mælifell and Baula, we took a steeper path further west, where loose scree slid beneath our feet with every step. Interestingly, the first recorded ascent wasn’t until 1851 by Halldór Bjarnason. Likely, people in earlier centuries saw no reason to scale such peaks unless absolutely necessary.

North of Baula stands Mælifell (777 m), one of twelve mountains in Iceland with that name. Its name likely stems from being a ‘measure’ or landmark for travelers on the old thoroughfare toward the Dalir region or the Westfjords. That trail ran alongside the mountain through Bjarnadalur, on the far side of what is visible here. Beyond Mælifell lies Baulusandur, Litla Baula (839 m), and Skildingafell.

The river winding through the valley is the renowned Norðurá. South of it lies the farm Háreksstaðir and a rocky mound by the river called Beinhóll (Bone Hill), which was long a prime spot for salmon fishing. To the north, you can see the end of Hvammsmúli, where it meets a gorge carved by the Litlaá river. Near there is a stream bed where an old path called Langa gata (Long Path) once led up to Fellaflói, a marshland where men used to harvest hay. The effort people expended for a bit of fodder is truly staggering. Even the valley framed by the peaks is called Sátudalur (Haystack Valley)—perhaps a hint that farmers traveled even that far for hay. It is also the source of the Dýrastaðaá river.

In the center of the view above is Sanddalur, with the Sanddalsá river flowing through it. Deep within the valley, Mjóidalur branches off. If one follows Mjóidalur to its end, you arrive at Illagil (Evil Gorge). Beyond the gorge, high in the mountains, lie the Grafartindar peaks. It is likely these peaks that are visible directly above Hvammsmúli, which borders the western side of the valley. Directly above the head of the valley is Sandur, and looking northeast from there, the 1,001-meter-high Tröllakirkja (Trolls’ Church) comes into view. South of Tröllakirkja lie the Snjófjöll (Snow Mountains).

Legend says that around the time of the Settlement, trolls would gather at Tröllakirkja to hold council, distressed by the ever-increasing intrusion of human settlers. Things reached a breaking point when Icelanders converted to Christianity. When the first church was built at Stað in Hrútafjörður, a giantess living near Tröllakirkja decided to take matters into her own hands. She hurled a massive boulder at the church during its very first mass. Her aim was off; the rock landed in a horse paddock, killing four horses. Realizing her time in the valley was over, she packed her belongings and moved north to the Strandir region, seeking more solitude. No reports of trolls have been heard near Tröllakirkja ever since.

The upper valley did not seem very hospitable to me when I first arrived. The piercing north wind cuts to the bone as it comes charging down Sanddalur. It’s no wonder that verses were once composed about the harshness of life in this part of the valley.

Norðurárdalur is quite chilly at its northern end.
No maidens thrive there; they are all but hags and crones.

Today, farming has ceased at the uppermost farms in Norðurárdalur. This was certainly not the case around the turn of the 1700s, when the 'Farm Verses' were composed, documenting a bustling community in every corner of the valley.

In Hvammur dwell noble folk with holy faith.
To Galtarhöfði I now make my way; there, the hay yield is meager.

Deep in the valley, men behold Sanddalstunga.
At Geststaðir, the brave ones sang; a joyful folk in Sveinatunga.

Mörkrók alone and Háreksstaðir can here be found.
At Hóll, Halldór does his labor; Margrét is his wedded wife.

To the west of Sanddalur and Hvammsmúli lies the church-land of Hvammur, and to the east of the valley and Sveinatungumúli sits the settlement farm Sveinatunga. The farm at Hvammur was moved to its current location after a devastating avalanche in 1808, which claimed the life of the priest’s son. In Sveinatunga stands the oldest stone farmhouse in any Icelandic rural district. No farm buildings remain within Sanddalur itself, though it once held three: Galtarhöfði west of the Sanddalsá river, Geststaðir to the east, and Sanddalstunga at the valley’s head. Today, a few summer cottages dot the valley.

South of the Norðurá river are the farms Krókur, Háreksstaðir, and Hóll. Farming has ceased at Krókur and Háreksstaðir, though it continues at Hóll. Near Krókur, one can still discern the ruins of Blesastaðir, the home of the settler Þorbjörn ‘blesi’. Legends say his son, Gísli, had a farm at Háumelar, and Lake Gíslavatn bears his name.

When I first came to Brautarlækur 28 years ago, I wanted to try planting some trees. I had little faith in the endeavor, as there was nothing to suggest that trees could survive there; the only vegetation higher than the grass were a few knee-high willow shrubs along the brook. I shared this wish with my father-in-law, and while he readily granted me permission, he offered little hope for fast or steady growth. He knew from experience how difficult this land is to cultivate. However, he had a story to tell.

Sheltered from the north wind behind the farmhouse at Krókur stood a few handsome spruce trees, and by the roadside, just across the bridge over Norðurá, stood a solitary birch shrub. The trees behind the house hadn’t always been there; they were rescued when the road south of the river was constructed. My parents-in-law had originally planted them on a rocky outcrop overlooking the river, just below the farm. When the road was built, the Road Administration insisted on excavating fill material from right beneath the trees. Some were saved and moved behind the farmhouse, while others found a new home at the Hraunsnef farm further down the valley. The birch shrub by the roadside is the only one that survived the construction in its original spot.

The old man, therefore, had firsthand experience with planting in the upper valley and knew it could succeed. He also pointed out the birch growth on Hvammsmúli. He maintained that the slopes south of the Norðurá had once been as forested as those on the north side. His theory was that because the church lands often held wood-cutting rights on other estates, they could spare the forests on their own land. For instance, Reykholt Church had rights to gather wood in Sanddalur, which is known to have been forested. He also urged me to look into the deep gully carved by Brautarlækur itself. Deep within the banks, one can find substantial ancient tree trunks preserved in the earth. Thus, there was every reason to give forestry a try.

It is a joy to share that the current owner of Krókur has been actively planting trees in recent years—tens of thousands of them. The results become more visible with every passing summer. The owners of Sveinatunga have also pursued forestry with clear success. At our little cottage by Brautarlækur, the trees have grown steadily, and they have finally begun to provide shelter from the cold north wind. Who knows? Perhaps in my old age, I will be surrounded by a forest here at the foot of Holtavörðuheiði.

The north wind isn’t always biting in the upper Norðurárdalur. Often, the weather is sublime, as described here:

By Brautarlækur, on a bright night,
not a blade of grass stirs in the wind.
Silently flows the brook, all is at peace,
here is your life and your delight.

My wife and I were at Brautarlækur this spring, along with our daughter, Ingibjörg Lilja, and our dog, Lappi. It was our first trip to the summer cottage this season, and as school finals were approaching, studies were at their peak. Our daughter agreed to join us despite her heavy workload, provided she was given peace to study. We promised to keep quiet, but in a typical teenage lapse of concentration, her textbooks were left behind by the front door back in Reykjavík. She did remember, however, that one of her assignments for the weekend was to write a short story for Icelandic class. You don’t need textbooks to write a story. When she struggled to find a theme, Guðrún asked if she had heard about the ‘Tragedy at Einstakaklettur.’ Authors, after all, often draw inspiration for their stories from real-life events.

The incident took place during the time of Brynjólfur Bjarnason, the farmer at Krókur in Norðurárdalur and Ingibjörg Lilja’s great-grandfather. It was likely in the 1920s or 30s. The weather was as good as it gets in this country; the sun beat down on the household as they worked tirelessly mowing the fields below the farm. Modern mowing technology had not yet found its way to the upper reaches of Norðurárdalur. They mowed with scythes and whetstones, and sweat surely poured off the workers. At the end of the workday, a farmhand said he was heading down to the river to wash off. Brynjólfur warned him about the river; although the pool beneath Einstakaklettur looked tempting for a swim, it was dangerous because the water was glacial. He instructed the man to bathe only in the still water and strictly avoid the areas where the rocks cast a deep shadow over the pool.

The farmhand never returned, and the household found him lifeless in the river when they went to check on him. Although there were no witnesses, the family believed he had leaped from the bank toward the rock into the deep pool, and his body simply could not withstand the shock of the freezingly cold water suddenly surrounding him. This incident weighed heavily on Brynjólfur, and the steps he took must have been leaden as he pulled the man ashore at Þrælavað—the shallows just below the pool at Einstakaklettur.

A link to an article written on the occasion of Brynjólfur's 70th birthday can be found here. It provides a vivid description of the struggles and hardships of farming life in those years. You can view it here.

This account of such a tragic event became the spark for our daughter’s story, which follows.

By Solitary Rock

The birds sang, and the sunbeams played upon everyone who stood clear of the shadows. I had worked from the first light of dawn and throughout the day while the sun was at its highest. Finally, my day’s work was done.

My hands were swollen from gripping the scythe I used to mow the fields; sweat trickled down my body, and every muscle screamed for rest. I walked across the mown grass toward the turf farm where the farmer and his wife waited for me to announce that my tasks for the day were finished. When I reached the farm, the farmer thanked me for my labor and granted my wish to bathe in the river, a short distance away.

The river flowed like a mirror through the valley. The sun glistened on the surface, and when I touched the water, it felt warm and refreshing. It was tempting to dive right in, but as the farmer had advised, I entered the pool slowly and carefully. At first, the water felt cold, but after a few moments, I began to adjust. I closed my eyes and let the river carry me along with its current.

I opened my eyes again when I felt a cold shadow fall across them instead of the sun. I tried to swim away from the shadow that made the river so freezing, but it seemed my body would not respond. I was trapped in the deepest pool of the river, in the cold shadow cast by Einstakiklettur—the Solitary Rock—which rose from the center of the water. I felt the cold creeping up my body, into every limb. I struggled to breathe, but I could not. Finally, the cold locked itself around my heart.

The winter weather was exceptionally beautiful in Sæviðarsund when we set off just after noon. The sun was low in the sky, offering clear views from Reykjanes towards Esja, Akrafjall, Hafnarfjall, and Snæfellsnes. The sun was setting in the west as the plane took off around four o'clock. My wife and I were heading to Lisbon, the capital of Portugal. The spark for the trip was an invitation I received to an educational seminar held by the host school, English Matters. Guðrún came along on the trip, as we planned to explore the city together after the academic portion concluded. Despite it being a cold time of year in Lisbon, the weather forecast was good for our stay—a nice extension of summer was ahead. A little drizzle was predicted for the first day, but after that, it was supposed to be sunny with temperatures around 17°C.

Beforehand, one would have thought there would be many remarkable things to see in Europe's second-oldest city; only Athens in Greece is older. The city has about 570,000 inhabitants, but the greater Lisbon area has three million. We stayed at the Hotel Melia Oriente, a four-star hotel just over seven kilometers from the city center. It was easy to get to the subway, so the distance from the center did not bother us. It was an added bonus that the Vasco da Gama shopping center was only a few minutes away. We intended to take the opportunity to do some shopping because the price level in Lisbon is much more reasonable than in our beloved Reykjavík.

The Seminar

My first day began with an introduction to the Portuguese school system at the hotel’s Expo Hall. After five hundred slides, I was nearly unconscious due to lack of air and information overload. However, I managed to grasp that the school system is divided into preschool for children aged three to six, and compulsory education for students aged six to eighteen. The compulsory period is divided into primary school and secondary school. Primary school is divided into three stages.

• First Stage: For students in grades 1–4. The classes have one teacher who teaches all subjects. The main focus of study is the mother tongue, social studies, mathematics, and English. Occasionally, an assistant teacher comes in to teach subjects like arts.

• Second Stage: For students in grades 5 and 6. In this stage, there is subject-specific teaching, and subjects like geography, history, and science are added.

• Third Stage: For students in grades 7–9. Subjects like physics, chemistry, and a third language are added.

Secondary school is for students in grades 10–12. At this point, students can specialize according to their interests. There are three main tracks to choose from: Science and Humanities, Vocational Training, and Arts.

Schools in Portugal are either run by the state or are private schools. Education in public schools is free, except parents pay 30–50 Euros per month (approx. 4,200 – 7,200 ISK) for meals. Tuition fees in private schools are 60,000 – 80,000 ISK per month, plus meal costs.

One thing I find interesting is that parent-teacher conferences are rare in the Portuguese school system. If a student has specific problems, parents are referred to a psychologist and/or social worker. The school seems to focus more on learning and teaching, while leaving welfare-related matters to the health and social services, which truly belong to them. The reason I find this interesting is that a few years ago, I went to the Netherlands, and the approach seemed to be the same there. Back home [in Iceland], administrators and teachers are drowning in meetings involving parents and parties from the welfare sector, where the topic is welfare or health-related rather than learning or teaching-related. I am very doubtful that we are on the right path there and would much rather have seen the teachers’ time spent on organizing and developing instruction.

The air conditioning in the Expo Hall had apparently been adjusted better because the next part of the seminar was more tolerable. There was no longer a need to “breathe with a knife and fork” just to get oxygen. An entire morning was spent discussing in groups, analyzing what we had learned so far, and asking further questions about the Portuguese school system. During the discussions, there was time to compare notes and discuss the challenges the different countries are facing. That is always useful.

The third day began with a bus ride. We were heading to the Atlantica school. The Atlantica school is a 1,700-child school catering to students from babies in diapers up to 18-year-olds when their compulsory education ends. It was certainly interesting to visit such a large school, but I cannot say that much stuck with me. I have probably visited too many schools, and there was nothing that particularly caught my attention. Well, perhaps the filthy toilets and a massive greenhouse.

History and Culture

Praca dos Resturadores

School matters were not the only knowledge English Matters offered. On Monday, we were invited on an afternoon guided walk around the city center. We met the whole conference group at the statue in Praca dos Restauradores, and from there, we marched off behind the guide, a delightful elderly woman. The square and its monument commemorate the restoration of Portugal's independence from the Spanish. Getting independence was not entirely painless, as the uprising began in 1640, and independence was not secured until 28 years later, in 1668. Knowledge like this flowed like a waterfall from this knowledgeable woman. I only managed to catch a fraction of what she said. The icing on the cake was supposed to be the view over the center of Lisbon from Portas do Sol. First, we had to climb the steep street where the famous tram number 28 had just tumbled down, with the terrible result that sixteen people died. The view turned out to be nonexistent because there was a lot of rain. When we were finished with the guide, we ended the day at the Rossio Christmas market, where we had cake, coffee, a waffle, and a beer. The knowledgeable woman had told us that the market stood in an area that used to be the edge of the city, where visitors to the city left their horses.

Fado Dinner

English Matters hosted a dinner at the Adega Machado restaurant in the Bairro Alto neighborhood on Tuesday night. The restaurant began operations in 1937, so it is not new. The menu is said to be national. I cannot say we remember the food very clearly, but the service was good, and it was particularly enjoyable to hear Fado music between courses. Since the food was provided by English Matters, we have no idea if it was expensive or not. Probably much more expensive than a traditional dinner, but that is natural because there was live music. Fado music could perhaps be called Portuguese blues, referring to the lyrics, which are characterized by resignation, sad fates, and longing. The music itself is nothing like blues. It is performed by a singer, a classical guitar, and a Portuguese guitar, along with an acoustic bass, often a double bass. The verses often alternate between major and minor keys, and the rhythm is often binary or ternary, like a waltz. Rubato is often used to give the music feeling. The bass keeps the rhythm steady, but the singer plays with stretching the tempo at the end of phrases to increase the drama.

The origin of this musical style has been traced to the Bairro Alto, Mouraria, and Alfama neighborhoods in Lisbon, and to the years 1820–1830. Performers mainly came from the working class. Sailors, concubines, bohemians, and poor artists performed the music, beat the rhythm, and danced to the music in the neighborhood taverns. As with most things that evolve slowly, like Fado music, it is difficult to trace exactly when the music began to be called a musical genre. No doubt the roots are much older than that.

Quinta da Regaleira

In the afternoon of the day we visited the Atlantica school, we were driven to the town of Sintra, where we strolled around a garden with old buildings. "Some garden" I say, because that was the feeling when we followed the guide around. I had not found the time to research what I was looking at, and that was probably why I did not enjoy the tour enough. Then I must admit that following a guide with a large group of people and fighting to hear the information they are rattling off are conditions that somehow do not suit me. Regardless, the area is called Quinta da Regaleira. In the area was a very ornate palace, a chapel, wells, and a garden filled with trees and walking paths. I found the history of the palace and the area not very interesting, because what remained in my mind was that this was a playground for the rich. That being said, it was beautiful there, and the 27-meter-deep "Initiation Well" sparked interest, but the purpose of building a waterless well into the ground is hidden from me.

There ended the program I was obligated to participate in, and Guðrún and I had the remaining time together. We used that time to explore this old city and shop. Yes, there is absolutely reason to shop in Lisbon because the price level is much

Vasco da Gama Tower and the Bridge

Not far from the hotel we stayed at, down by the Tagus River, is the Vasco da Gama Tower. The Portuguese have a significant history of exploration, and the tower is named after their most famous explorer, Vasco da Gama, who mapped the sea route from Europe to India. The tower was built for the Expo ‘98 exhibition. It rises proudly 160 meters and is the tallest building in Portugal. After the Expo, a purpose had to be found for this tower. Initially, it was meant to be rented out as office space, but that did not work out because no one wanted to rent. Now, the tower serves as a hotel. The first thing Guðrún and I did after I was free from my seminar duties was to go up the tower and look over the city. Not because we thought the tower was a notable place, but probably because it was within walking distance of the hotel and was the first stop of the Hop-on Hop-off bus, for which we bought a 24-hour pass to get a feel for the city.

From the top of the tower, you could see a massive structure that was also inaugurated in 1998, just before the Expo exhibition. Just like the tower, the bridge was named Vasco da Gama to mark the 500 years that had passed since his achievements. The bridge is 13 kilometers long and is the longest bridge in Europe. The bridge is built particularly strong, as it is in a known earthquake zone. It is designed to withstand wind speeds of 250 km/h and last for 120 years. An amazing structure, I must say.

Torre de Belém and Padrão dos Descobrimentos

There are many notable things to see in the Belém neighborhood. The district is in the western part of Lisbon. To get there, we took bus number 728 from Gare de Oriente train station. It would have been absolutely perfect to jump off the bus at the Belém Tower, stroll east to the monument, and then north to the monastery. We did not do that because the tower was closed and packed with scaffolding when we were traveling there. Instead, we got off at the monument and looked at the tower from a distance. It was built between 1514 and 1519 at the behest of King Manuel I of Portugal. The purpose was to strengthen the defenses of Lisbon and manage ship traffic on the Tagus River. During the years the tower was built, the Portuguese were beginning their age of discovery. The tower has later also served as a prison and as a lighthouse for sailors.

A little further east on the north bank of the Tagus River stands the Padrão dos Descobrimentos, or the Monument to the Discoveries. It was built in 1960 to commemorate the 500th anniversary of the death of Dom Henrique, the first known explorer. He stands at the forefront of the monument's prow, followed by various well-known figures from the era of exploration, 32 in total. While we were wandering around the monument, I was stopped by students who were working on a school project about the tourism industry in Portugal. They wanted to know what I found most remarkable about what I had seen in Lisbon, and I could think of nothing else to say but the friendly demeanor of the people and the good food.

Jerónimos Monastery

We walked across the street at the monument towards a magnificent building. The building stands in exactly the same place where Vasco da Gama and the sailors of his fleet prayed before sailing to India. The building is called the Jerónimos Monastery and was built at the same time as the Belém Tower. Previously, a church stood there dedicated to Holy Mary of Belém, and it is precisely a statue of her that stands over the entrance to the monastery. Above everything towers a statue of the Archangel Michael. We only explored this amazing building from the outside, and honestly, I regret not choosing to explore the monastery museum rather than the maritime museum at the end of the monastery building.

Maritime Museum

On our second-to-last day in Lisbon, we made another trip to the Belém neighborhood. This time to explore the maritime museum. We chose it because of the remarkable maritime history of the Portuguese. We regret it a little because the maritime museum is basically an endless collection of ship models of different types. One would have thought it was possible to honor this significant history better and in a more interesting way than this.

Praca do Rossio

Rossio Square is actually called Praça de D. Pedro IV, whose statue towers 27 meters above the square. Dom Pedro is known as the Soldier King. He was born in Lisbon but fled with his family to Brazil due to the French invasion in 1807. His father returned to Portugal in 1821. Pedro remained in Brazil. He supported rebels in Brazil’s independence struggle and became king there from 1822–1831, and then king of Portugal in 1826. Rossio Square became an important gathering place in the 13th and 14th centuries and therefore has a long history. The term Rossio refers to the common people, and its name could therefore be interpreted as the “People’s Square” in Icelandic. Originally, the square was a gathering place for the people when the city expanded from the castle area. In 1450, the Estaus Palace was built at the end of the square. That palace was a residence for important people visiting Lisbon. The knowledgeable woman who took us on the walking tour said that the guests’ horses had been kept in the square. When that horrible institution, the Portuguese Inquisition, was established in 1536, the palace at the square became the headquarters of the court, and the square was often used for public executions. The houses around the square then largely collapsed in the earthquake of 1755. The Estaus Palace was rebuilt, but it then burned down in 1836. Another remarkable building stood at Rossio Square: the National Hospital. The construction of the hospital was completed in 1504.

We came into Rossio Square several times during our wandering around Lisbon. The buildings we saw were, of course, reconstructions made in the wake of the earthquake. Otherwise, we did not see the square in all its glory because the square is still the main gathering place for the city’s inhabitants. Every year, a Christmas market is set up in the square, so the square was covered with sales booths.

Parque de Eduardo VII

One day, we got off the bus at one of the highest points in the city. We were at the top of Eduardo VII Park. This park was once called Liberty Park, but in 1903, a British king visited, and the name of the park was changed. The Portuguese clearly felt it necessary to keep the British happy. There was a great view from the fountain at the top of the hill to the south over the square of the Marquis of Pombal and further down to the Tagus River. A great view there. We strolled down the hill, through a Christmas market that was being set up.

In the middle of the square stands a massive statue on a column of the Marquis of Pombal. He was the prime minister of King Joseph I of Portugal. The king gave him free rein, which allowed him to become the most powerful man in Portugal. He was apparently a terrible “skíthæll” [jerk] this man, but it cannot be denied that he was extremely industrious and accomplished several good things for Portugal. He is best known for organizing and driving forward the reconstruction of Lisbon after the earthquake that struck Portugal on November 1, 1755. It was a horrific earthquake. How large it was is clearly not entirely clear, around 8.5 - 9 on the Richter scale, and after the earthquake, Lisbon was almost entirely in ruins. Eighty-five percent of all buildings in the city either collapsed, burned, or fell victim to a tidal wave. It is estimated that 30,000–40,000 people died out of the 200,000 who lived in Lisbon. “What do we do now?” Pombal was asked, and with icy realism, he answers: “We bury the dead and treat those who lived.” Then the reconstruction work began with great vigor, and now the houses were built with awareness of the danger of earthquakes.

Praca do Comércio

By the Tagus River is a massive square. This square is located where the Ribeira Royal Palace formerly stood. That palace collapsed to its foundations in the earthquake, like other houses in the area. Therefore, the entire area had to be redesigned. Now, the main government institutions of Portugal are located at the square. In the middle of the square is a large statue of Joseph I, who was King of Portugal when the great earthquake struck. He was incredibly lucky that day because his daughter had wished that the royal family would stay in the summer cottage, which was a palace in the Belém neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. Poor Joseph was quite shaken in the wake of these misfortunes and preferred to live in a tent, which he did. That is probably why the Ribeira Palace was not rebuilt. Behind the statue of Joseph is the Arco Triunfal da Rua Augusta, or the Triumph Arch. If you walk under the arch, Augusta Street takes over, and if that street is walked to its end, you end up in Rossio Square.

We stumbled into Praça do Comércio when we were looking for the cathedral. We actually got into complete confusion in that search because the navigation system sent us on a bus that took us up to Breiðholt [a suburb of Reykjavík]! We solved that mess by ordering a taxi that drove us to the city center. In the end, we found the cathedral, which was just up on a hill a short distance from the square. The cathedral was built in 1147, so its history spans well over 800 years. Its appearance bears the mark of the Middle Ages. It reminds one a bit of a castle from the Middle Ages. Certainly, additions have been made to it, and more or less repairs have been needed over the centuries due to damage from earthquakes. The earthquake of 1755 was the largest, but it was by no means the only one.

In the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, two sparsely populated island nations are not entirely unrelated. The islands were settled around the same time when frustrated Norwegians sailed across the ocean in the ninth century to escape the annoyances of the Norwegian king. These Vikings stopped at the British Isles and brought back British women, forcibly or voluntarily. Therefore, both nations are descendants of Norsemen and Celts. The Vikings brought livestock with them, but, not to disparage other domestic animals, it was the sheep that kept the inhabitants of these lands alive, and the sea, of course, also provided. Recent chromosome studies of Icelanders indicate that over 80% of Icelandic men are descended from Norwegians, as are over half of Icelandic women. It is not unlikely that a similar story can be told of the Faroese. However, new studies suggest that the Faroese can, to a greater extent than Icelanders, trace their ancestry to Swedes and Danes as well.

The languages spoken by the nations are of West Norse origin and closely related. Icelanders find Faroese written language easy to understand, but understanding the spoken language is somewhat more difficult. The reason is the pronunciation. The sound for ‘r’ in Icelandic is rolled, but it is fronted and voiced in Faroese, similar to English. Dental fricatives like the sounds for the letters ‘þ’ and ‘ð’ do not exist in Faroese. Also, various aspects of the grammar have simplified in Faroese. Verb conjugations are simpler, the genitive case is little used, and the nominative and accusative are always the same in the plural, to name a few examples.

It would be a sin and a shame not to cultivate such a close relationship, and therefore Guðrún and I took a trip to the Faroe Islands this autumn in the company of Guðrún’s brother, Siggi, and his wife, Kristbjörg. Guðrún and I set off from Reykjavík after work on Thursday, October 8th, in excellent traveling weather. We had, however, taken precautions and bought new studded tires for the trip, even though it was three weeks until legal tire change day. That certainly proved to be useful because when we arrived at the sign that gives weather reports for Öxnadalsheiði, it just said “closed.” There was freezing rain and a blizzard on the heath. The heath was mainly blocked due to cars that were not well enough equipped for winter conditions. We ventured onto the heath anyway, believing ourselves well-equipped, and we got across without any problems. We stayed in Tónatröð with Siggi and Kristbjörg for the night. The next day, we drove to Seyðisfjörður, where the ferry Norræna docks. We planned to sail to the Faroe Islands on it.

The sailing was uneventful. A bit of rolling and a maximum wave height of six meters. Fortunately, we did not feel sea-sick and could well enjoy having nothing to do for the twenty hours the voyage took. Finally, the islands rose steeply out of the sea. We then sailed in between the islands and finally docked in Tórshavn, the capital of the Faroe Islands. The hotel we stayed at is called Hotel Hafnia. Hotel Hafnia is a decent hotel in a good location in the center of Tórshavn.

We could do as we pleased out there because Siggi’s car was along. It cannot be said that the Faroe Islands surprised us. Many things are similar to home in Iceland. The landscape is all steep down to the sea. Towns and villages sit on the mountain slopes. I couldn’t help thinking about the avalanche danger back home where these conditions exist. I do not remember news from the Faroe Islands about avalanches or mudslides. The climate is clearly different in the Faroe Islands than in Iceland. It does not freeze often, and snow rarely comes. However, it rains on about 270 days a year. We got to know Faroese weather, as it was foggy and raining all the days we were in the Faroe Islands. This great wetness does not, however, seem to be enough to cause loss of life due to mudslides. Avalanches are not a problem in the Faroe Islands either. It is hard to say that snow sticks on the islands.

While Icelanders argue about road tunnels, the Faroese dig tunnels. That is presumably the reason why there are 21 tunnels in the Faroe Islands, compared to 12 in Iceland. Previously, the islands were connected by ferry voyages until the Faroese learned about the Hvalfjörður tunnel and saw that tunnels were the way to improve transportation. They get started, while we haggle, argue, and fight. We make plans, approve plans, write reports, research, ponder, and revise plans, but we don't act. The first place we explored in the Faroe Islands was Sandoy. To get there, we drove through Sandeyjargöng, the newest Faroese inter-island tunnel. Sandeyjargöng were opened in 2023 and are just under 11 kilometers long.

Over 1300 people live on Sandoy. The largest town is Sandur, where there are about 660 inhabitants. We didn't stop there, but drove towards Húsavík. On the way there, we saw many cars parked by the road and people walking. "There must be some festival here," we said and continued our journey until the road ended in a tiny, beautiful village on the eastern side of Sandoy. 70 inhabitants live in the village. There were many stone-walled houses in the village and stone walls and fences everywhere. We were to see this all over the islands. Probably the Faroese find it easier to maintain the stone walls than we Icelanders do, because of the weather. Very often, wooden houses were built on top of the stone walls, with turf on the roof.

By the time we came back, the number of people by the road had increased, so we decided to find out what was going on. We followed the people in along the country road. This turned out to be the Eplafestivalin in Tröð. Eplafest is a potato festival, not an apple festival, and the occasion was the potato harvest. At the festival, you saw little phone-staring, and the children weren’t munching on candy like at all festivals back home. Their candy was apples that had been sugared. The weather this first day in the Faroe Islands was exactly as expected. It was wet, temperature 11–13 degrees. One moment the mountains were visible, the sun was shining, and a rainbow framed the landscape. The next moment, it was thick fog, and visibility was minimal.

The next morning, after a rich breakfast at Hotel Hafnia, we drove northeast to Eysturoy. Bowed down in shame for the second day in a row over the lack of action and argumentative nature of Icelanders, we drove through a recently built tunnel between Streymoy and Eysturoy. The first stop was in Norðragöta, where we stumbled upon a statue of the most famous Faroese person ever, Þrándur í Götu. The journey continued to Klakksvík, the second-largest town in the Faroe Islands. Another Faroese person well-known to Icelanders lived there, singer Jógvan Hansen. Klakksvík is a fishing village of five thousand people. We didn’t find much of note to see in the town but enjoyed walking the path along the new nursing home and admiring the boats and the buildings bathing in the sun, which shone brightly there that morning.

Fuglafjörður was our next destination. The village in Fuglafjörður is reasonably populated. About 1600 people live there. The village sits at the bottom of the fjord and is surrounded by high mountains on all sides. Yet, it enjoys sun year-round. From Fuglafjörður, we drove over a considerable mountain road to Gjógv. The road was, of course, paved with numerous passing bays, so the driving was not considered difficult for an Icelander accustomed to other and worse conditions. The town is first mentioned in records in 1584, but it is known that people lived there long before that time. The livelihood of the villagers was fish that was dried, salted, and sold. In short, saltfiskur in Icelandic, but klippfiskur in Faroese. The entrance to the harbor is absolutely amazing. The boats sail along a two-hundred-meter-long gorge, and then they have to be pulled onto dry land at the innermost part of the gorge. Today, only 19 people live in the village, but in the past, 13 boats were operated from the village, and the inhabitants numbered over 200. We Icelanders know all too well that the sea gives and the sea takes. Not far from the church is a monument to those who were lost at sea. A mother sits there with her two children, looking out to sea. There, one could see that the gorge that created such a good entrance also took its toll.

The church in Kirkjubøur is called Ólafskirkja. It still serves as a parish church and has done so since it was built in 1111. Actually, there is hardly anything left of the original church. Ólafskirkja served as the cathedral of the Faroese in Catholic times. Around 1300, construction began on Magnúsarkirkja, which is now called Múrinn (The Wall). Its walls still stand and are testament to great ambition, as this was one of the most magnificent churches in the Nordic countries. There is some debate about whether Magnúsarkirkja was ever completed. Its remains are colloquially called Múrinn.

Næsti áfangastaður var helsti sögustaður Færeyinga, Kirkjubær. Kirkjubær er lítið þorp á suðvestanverðri Straumey. Þorpið var áður stærra. Sagan segir að flestum húsanna hafi skolað á haf út í ofviðri á 16. öld. Þarna var biskupssetur frá tólftu öld og fram að siðaskiptum á sextándu öld en þá tók Paturssonfjölskyldan við búskap á jörðinni og nú býr sautjánda kynslóð fjölskyldunnar í húsinu. Elsti hluti íbúðarhússins er frá elleftu öld og er því elsta timburhús í heimi þar sem enn er búið í.

Kirkjan í Kirkjubæ ber heitið Ólafskirkja. Hún þjónar enn sem sóknarkirkja og hefur svo verið frá því hún var byggð árið 1.111. Reyndar er varla nokkuð eftir af upphaflegu kirkjunni. Ólafskirkja gegndi hlutverki dómkirkju Færeyinga í kaþólskum sið. Um 1300 var hafist handa við að byggja Magnúsarkirkju sem nú er kölluð Múrinn. Veggir hennar standa enn og eru til vitnis um mikinn stórhug því þetta var ein veglegasta kirkja á Norðurlöndum. Einhver áhöld eru um hvort Magnúsarkirkja hafi einhvern tímann verið kláruð. Leifar hennar eru í daglegu tali kallaðar Múrinn.

Guðrún had arranged to book dinner for us at Angus Steakhouse in the center of Tórshavn. We had, of course, beef steak with whiskey sauce. The steak was expensive, but good too.

We had decided to start the last day in the Faroe Islands in Gásadalur and finish this trip by exploring the capital. The fog proved to be extremely thick, so we unfortunately had to cancel the trip to Gásadalur. Instead, we went to the Nordic House and had coffee there. Next, we strolled around Tinganes. Along with Þingvellir and Tynwald Hill on the Isle of Man, Tinganes is the oldest parliamentary site in the world. The Vikings met there around 900 and made their decisions. To this day, the Faroese government is located on the point. We strolled around Tinganes at a leisurely pace. We stumbled upon the Icelandic Consulate General and popped in. There, we met a woman I recognized very well but couldn't for the life of me figure out from where. I've figured it out now.

The city center is not large in Tórshavn, even though 25% of the Faroe Islands' inhabitants live there. In fact, only just over 56 thousand people live in the Faroe Islands, and just over 14 thousand in the capital, Tórshavn. On this stroll around the center, we made a bathroom stop at the hotel. We went out through the back door on the first floor and ended up in the backyard of the cathedral. Then it was of course, nothing left to do but explore it. Inside, we met a retired high school teacher. He taught us about quite a few things related to the church’s history. When he heard the language we spoke among ourselves, he realized we were from Iceland. Then, of course, talk turned to the connection between Iceland and the Faroe Islands. We named well-known Faroese people in Iceland. Among them, Eivör. Then it turned out that the high school teacher’s wife was an opera singer who arranged for Eivör to study singing with Ólöf Kolbrún, an opera singer and wife of Jón Stefánsson, the organist at Langholtskirkja. On our travels around the islands, we had stopped in Syðrugøta, Eivör’s hometown, where the aforementioned Þrándur í Götu lived.

The final meal was then eaten at the Áarstova restaurant at Gongin 1 in Tórshavn. The dish we had was Áarstovubógvur with root vegetables and sauce. That is, slow-cooked lamb shoulder.

Norræna docked in Seyðisfjörður around nine o’clock in the morning, which was extremely convenient because then we had the whole day to get home. We made one stop on the way at the Beitahúsið in Möðrudalsöræfi.

Short film about the trip (18 min).

This is the second time my wife and I have stayed in the city of Porto in Portugal. The last time was an company anniversary trip with her work in 2018, but this time it was a study and familiarization trip with Breiðagerðisskóli. Saturday was just a travel day. We arrived at the Mercure Porto Santa Catarina hotel, where we stayed until dinner. The hotel turned out to be quite excellent. Wonderfully well-located in the city center, the staff was friendly, and the breakfast was good. The bread was particularly good. The only thing we wished was better was the room, which was uncomfortably narrow and had very little storage space. On this first day, we popped into the restaurant next to the hotel, where we had cod before going to sleep.

When we stepped out of the hotel, the Church of Saint Ildefonso greeted us. The church is located near Batalha Square. A chapel used to stand where the church now stands. The oldest records of the chapel date back to 1296. The chapel was close to collapse and was demolished in 1709, and work began on building this beautiful church in honor of the bishop of Toledo. The church was then consecrated in 1739. The blue tiles give the church a beautiful appearance, and tile decorations like these can be seen on houses throughout Porto.

Otherwise, Sunday was just used to wander aimlessly around the hills in the vicinity of the hotel. Porto is really not a city for those with weak legs, because you are either rolling down the hills or exerting yourself pulling yourself up them. This was fitness provided by Porto, and we feel our physical condition has improved after a week’s stay in the city. We then strolled to one of Porto’s main landmarks, the Clérigos Church with its 75-meter-high tower. It is possible to buy access to the church and the tower and enjoy a magnificent view from there. We decided to skip that. Construction of the church began in 1732 and was finally completed with the tower in 1763. This church is in Baroque style, designed by the Italian Nicolau Nasoni. Next, we rolled down to the Ribeira district by the Douro River, but apparently, you should avoid buying drinks or eating there. The reason is the price level, and they probably aren’t the best restaurants.

We then pulled ourselves up the hills back towards the hotel. We were getting thirsty. A flowering Jacaranda tree charmed us, so we sat down at a restaurant that offered a view of this beautiful tree. These trees originate in South America, but they have been planted in many places, as they are very beautiful.

A stone’s throw from the hotel is Santa Catarina Street, which is the main shopping street in Porto. We grabbed one suitcase on the way home because we only had one left after my suitcase was ripped to shreds during a trip to Rome a few years ago. On the way, we stopped at a pizza place where we had quite good pizza.

According to Monday’s schedule, there was supposed to be a course held in the town of Aveiro, which is a town of about 80,000 people 75 km south of Porto. It took us about an hour to get there by train. There was not much training held because the trains started running later that day. The reason is that the day is a national holiday in Portugal—a public holiday. The tenth of June was chosen because Luís de Camões died on this day in 1580. This Luís is a kind of icon of Portuguese national consciousness. He was a poet and composed the poem Os Lusíadas, which is a poem praising the achievements of the Portuguese.

So we experienced what Aveiro has to offer, which is perhaps not all that much. I suppose the beach is the main attraction in that town. We were not lucky with the food we bought in this town. It was just not good at all. Yes, the pastry Ovos Moles tasted good. After we finished the course, we sat down, I think by the town hall square. One of us dashed into a bakery nearby and came back with the town pastry called Ovos Moles, which would translate as "soft eggs." Ovos Moles is made from eggs, egg yolks, sugar, and sometimes chocolate. Legend has it that Ovos Moles originated with nuns of the Franciscan and Carmelite orders, who used the whites of eggs to clean their habits and had to find a use for all the leftover yolks. Ovos Moles tastes quite good.

The town has sometimes been called the Venice of Portugal because it is intersected by canals, and we sailed along these canals. The boat trip was fine in its way, but there wasn’t really much to see. The train station is beautifully decorated with blue tile pictures, and the city center was cute, but the people of Aveiro did not manage to charm us with the food they offered.

One boat trip is not enough, so we went on another one on Tuesday. We bought a guided boat tour on the Douro River. The Douro River is the third longest river on the Iberian Peninsula and is 895 kilometers long. We only sailed on the lowest part of the river and got another perspective on the Dom Luís I bridge and the Ribeira district. We had the whole day free, except we had decided to participate in a wine tasting trip in the evening. Perhaps we should have skipped that because that trip was a repetition of a trip we took in 2018. The main thing to remember from this trip is that it is not enough for guides to have a good vocabulary in the English language. It is better if what they say is understood. All that knowledge that flowed from the guide’s lips passed me by because I did not understand a word of what she said. The boat trip earlier in the day was rather more interesting, and that guide was easy to listen to.

On Wednesday, I attended to my duties and visited a school and a library. Those visits are not really worth telling stories about, but Guðrún used the time to shop because prices are somewhat lower than in Reykjavík. Rua de Santa Catarina is the main shopping street in Porto and conveniently close to the hotel we stayed at. Just around the corner. In the evening, we had the best meal we had on this trip. It was by a busy square, and there were always brilliant musicians playing at the square. We stopped a few times at this square on our walks around the city and sat inside three of the restaurants there. Otherwise, we were not disappointed with the food we got on this trip. Actually, it varied, but that is to be expected when you haven’t prepared at all and just drop in wherever you are at any given time.

We understand that you shouldn’t eat in the Ribeira district because the food is most expensive there, but not necessarily the best. We verified this because we once had lunch by the riverbank and drank beer with it. This was the most expensive glass of beer of the trip, and it was probably a mistake to choose this place to taste the most popular Portuguese sandwich. The sandwich is called Francesinha, which would translate as “little French girl” in our native tongue. The sandwich is composed of white bread, ham, steak, egg, cheese, and a lot of sauce mess. We do not recommend this sandwich at all, except to be able to say you have tasted it.

We decided to go to the Crystal Palace Garden (Jardins do Palácio de Cristal) on Thursday. We found no Crystal Palace, but it was apparently there before 1951. It had been built for some world's fair in 1865 but was demolished in 1951. The Crystal Palace was built in the spirit of the eponymous palace in London. The reason the palace was demolished was that it was not maintained and fell into disrepair. In its place, a green dome was built, sometimes called the "green spaceship." The role of the green dome is to be an event hall. We got a guided tour of the hall, but our purpose was mainly to see the view over Porto from the top of the building. It was fantastic and well worth seeing.

We made a trip to the Arrábida shopping center on Friday. This shopping center is in Gaia, and for some reason, it is not mentioned when you search the wisdom of the World Wide Web asking about shopping centers in Porto. However, it is among the better ones because there is no shortage of shops, with over 180 of them, nor seats for shopping-weary husbands.

Saturday was the day to go home. We started by sitting down by some monument on one of the hills to eat the packed lunch, which was just the leftovers of what was edible in the hotel room when we checked out. As we sat there, an old woman comes along who had a very hard time walking and pulls some food scraps out of a bag. Then two wild cats appear that clearly knew the woman. Shortly after, the seagulls appeared, and they are quite pushy. The old woman was not happy with them, but she ensured with screams and staff-waving that the cats got their share.

We didn't have a flight until later in the afternoon, so we could give ourselves time to visit the cathedral. Its construction began in the middle of the thirteenth century, and it has gradually expanded through the centuries. Otherwise, we have visited so many churches on our travels that there was nothing special about the cathedral in Porto that gripped us. Except perhaps the blue tiles that can be found widely in Portugal. These tiles are called azulejo and can be traced back to the fifteenth century and influence from the Arabs. These blue tiles decorate many houses in Porto. In the high school I visited, I saw that propaganda against vandalism was being run. On a wall in the lobby, I saw that one of the things causing trouble is the theft of tiles. Thieves chop tiles off houses, and then they are bought and sold. Another thing that characterizes Porto is the hills. The city is certainly not for those with weak legs.

Right now, I am sitting under a typical Central European church tower in the city of Delft in the Netherlands. The reason for my presence here is a study trip for school administrators from schools belonging to the North District of Reykjavik. The group received an Erasmus grant, and the main theme of the trip is the Dutch approach to teaching students of foreign origin. This is one of the larger challenges facing most schools in Reykjavík today, and the Dutch, due to their experience, must have something to share.

Það var flogið út á þriðjudeginum 14. júní. Á leiðinni á milli Sciphol flugvallar og Delft sá maður að Hollendingar treysta tölvuert á vindorkunna þannig að þessi risastóru hvítu mannvirki voru alls staðar meðfram hraðbrautinni. Maður sá einnig að Hollendingar eru ennþá að nota gömlu vindmyllurnar sem eru heldur meira fyrir augað. Óneitanlega leitaði hugurinn upp í Norðurárdal og til þeirrar sjónmengunar sem svona ferlíki í Hvammsmúlanum munu valda. Eftir að hafa komið farangrinum fyrir á hótel Hampshire í Delft rölti ég niður í miðbæ. Eftir að hafa áttað mig á umhverfinu settist ég niður á veitingastað á aðaltorginu í bænum.

We flew out on Tuesday, June 14th. On the way between Schiphol Airport and Delft, one could see that the Dutch rely considerably on wind energy, as these gigantic white structures were everywhere along the highway. One also saw that the Dutch are still using the old windmills, which are a bit more pleasing to the eye. Undeniably, my mind wandered back to Norðurárdalur and the visual pollution that such monstrosities in Hvammsmúli will cause. After dropping off my luggage at the Hampshire Hotel in Delft, I strolled down to the city center. After getting a feel for the surroundings, I sat down at a restaurant on the main square in town.

Delft is a city of about one hundred thousand people. The city center is charming with its canals and old buildings. It clearly bears the marks of its 750-year history, but it is probably best known for being the birthplace and workplace of the Dutch painter Johannes Vermeer, who painted the picture of the Girl with a Pearl Earring. Then there are also the blue ceramic items that have been produced in Delft since the seventeenth century.

On Wednesday morning, we drove to Gouda, which is a city of 75,000 people. There, the group was divided into two. I went to a primary school that was a specialized facility for students of foreign origin. Students could stay in that school for anywhere from 16 to 40 weeks. The length of time depended on how well the children succeeded in mastering the new language. The main focuses of the education were on Dutch language and culture, social skills, and mathematics. I was hoping that the Dutch, in light of their greater experience, had developed an efficient system for the reception and integration of students of foreign origin into mainstream schools, but it seems they are grappling with the same problems as Icelanders: long waiting lists for specialists, teacher shortages, and financial rather than professional grounds for decisions. Still, there are many things we can learn from them.

In the afternoon, we had a lecture on the Dutch school system at a teachers' college in Gouda. The Dutch school system is different from the Icelandic one. They place great emphasis on systematically analyzing the aptitude and ability of students and guiding them into different educational paths. After the lecture, the group sat down at a restaurant. It was raining hard outside. Finally, I gave up waiting out the rain and strolled into the Sint Janskerk church.

Most of it was built in the 16th and 17th centuries. The tower was built around 1350, and the foundation under the choir in 1485. The church is no small feat. Its length is 123 meters, the longest in the Netherlands. After taking a tour around the church, I strolled into the town hall square. There, of course, stands the city hall, which was built in the fifteenth century. The journey home was rather clumsy because I took the train to Rotterdam and from there to Delft. Except I forgot to get off and ended up in The Hague. From there, I took the train back. I will probably not manage to visit four cities in one day again in this lifetime.

On Thursday, the day began with a trip to Rotterdam, where the group visited an institution that specializes in supporting schools regarding students who need special support of some kind. After lunch, the group was divided into three. I visited a high school with students aged 12 to 18. There, we received a presentation on a department within the school that welcomes students of foreign origin. After the visit, I took the time to explore what is considered most noteworthy in Rotterdam. To tell the truth, I found the city exceptionally uninteresting. Undoubtedly, there is something interesting to be found there, but that part of the day was not enough for me to discover it. Rotterdam is an old city. Its origins can be traced to the middle of the thirteenth century when a dam was built in the river Rotte. There lies the explanation for the name, Rotterdam. The old houses that grace old cities are not in the city center. The explanation for that is that the Germans bombed the city center to pieces in 1940. Old houses can, however, be found in Delfshaven, but I did not get there.

Friday was mostly a free day. It began, however, with a meeting where the travel group reviewed what we had seen and experienced during visits to schools and institutions. At the meeting, guidelines were set for cooperation to develop the reception and teaching of students of foreign origin. That is sorely needed, as this group is growing very fast in Iceland. Never in history have more refugees been on the move in the world, and Iceland is not exempt from that. After the meeting, everyone was free to do as they pleased until six o’clock, when we were scheduled to sail together on the canals of Delft and have dinner together.

Föstudagurinn var að mestu leiti frír dagur. Hann byrjaði þó á fundi þar sem ferðahópurinn gerði upp það sem við höfðum séð og reynt í heimsóknum í skóla og stofnanir. Á fundinum voru lagðar línur með samstarf við að þróa móttöku og kennslu nemenda af erlendum uppruna. Það er ekki vanþörf á því þessi hópur er mjög vaxandi á Íslandi. Aldrei í sögunni hafa fleiri flóttamenn verið á ferð í heiminum og Ísland fer ekki varhluta af því. Að fundi loknum voru allir frjálsir ferða sinna þar til klukkan sex en þá átti að sigla saman á síkjum Delft og borða saman.

I had decided to start my free time by exploring the main pride of Delft. That is the painter Johannes Vermeer. Vermeer was one of the main painters during the Golden Age of painting in the Netherlands. He was born in 1632 and died in 1675. There are only 34 works by him, which is not considered many. These works are in museums around the world. Just west of the New Church is the Vermeer Centrum museum, which is dedicated to this notable painter. It is well worth visiting if you have any interest in art at all. In the time when Vermeer lived, painters were the ones who documented history in pictures because photography had not yet been invented. By visiting such a museum, you are therefore also learning about the lives of people in earlier times. In this museum, it is the history of the common people that is in focus, because Vermeer painted primarily the everyday life of the middle class, and more often than not, it was women who were the subject. His most famous work is probably Girl with a Pearl Earring.

After visiting the museum, I strolled over to the New Church. A strange name for a church whose construction was completed in 1495. The church has a 109-meter-high tower, which is the second-highest church tower in the Netherlands. The church is primarily known for being the burial place of the kings of the Netherlands. The first to be laid to rest in the church was William the Silent, who was one of the main freedom heroes of the Dutch, and was laid in a grave in 1584.

Then we walked a short distance over to the Old Church (Oude Kerk). That church dates back to 1249, and there lies the explanation for the naming of the churches. The Old Church is best known for its stained-glass artwork. In the Old Church, I stumbled upon Vermeer’s grave. In the evening, there was a sailing trip on the canals and dinner at one of the restaurants.

On the last morning, I sat on a bench under the New Church and wrote this text. Then I strolled to the market. In the streets on one side of the city hall square, there was an antique market, but on the other side, there was a food market. Then we flew home, and Guðrún and I drove straight up to Brautarlækur.

"Shortly after my wife and I booked an autumn trip to Berlin, I received an offer to attend a seminar in Madrid. The offer was actually too good to refuse, so I jumped at it, and my wife tagged along. The seminar was for a group of school administrators who have been hosting groups of teachers and managers on behalf of English Matters. English Matters is a department at the University of Madrid that organizes various courses and trips for educators. The trip was funded by the Erasmus+ project, so we did not have to pay for accommodation, and I received a grant for the flight from the Teachers' Union, meaning the cost of a week-long trip to Madrid was only my wife's airfare."

Madrid

Madrid er næst stærsta borg Evrópu. Íbúar eru 6,7 milljónir með úthverfum en í megin borgarkjarnanum búa 3,4 milljónir. Borgin er staðsett á miðjum Íberíuskaganum uppi á hásléttunni í 650 metra hæð. Þess vegna einkennist veðurfarið af heitum sumrum og köldum vetrum. Köldum vetrum? Varla því við vorum þarna í næst kaldasta tíma ársins og veðrið var allan tíman eins og á góðu sumri í Reykjavík. Madrid hefur verið höfuðborg Spánar frá 1561. Hún er heillandi borg vegna þess að vel hefur tekist að halda í gömlu byggingarnar.

Puerto de Toledo

The first place to receive special mention here is not actually one of those places in Madrid that warrants a special trip just to see it. However, we did not need to make one, as we stayed at a hotel of the same name located right next to the Toledo Gate (Puerto de Toledo). Right by the hotel is a metro station with the same name. Joseph Bonaparte initiated the construction of the gate in 1812, but the French left Madrid a year later. Construction continued regardless, and the gate was completed and ready for use in 1827. At the time, this nineteen-meter-high gate served as the entrance for those arriving in the city from Andalusia. Today, the gate is nothing more than decoration on a roundabout.

Plaza Mayor

The Plaza Mayor is the main square in Madrid. It was inaugurated in 1620 at the behest of Philip III, whose statue stands in the center of the square. The square is perfectly rectangular and relatively enclosed. Narrow exits lead out in all directions, and there is a multitude of restaurants in the square. In reality, there is not much to see in the square itself. The main buildings are the Casa de la Panadería with the frescoes on its facade, and the Casa de la Carnicería. Throughout its long history, the square has been the venue for various events, including bullfights and even executions.

Plaza del Sol (Puerta del Sol) is another square worth visiting in Madrid. This square is supposedly the center of Spain, and it is therefore said that all roads within Spain lead to this square. The main squares of Madrid are not far apart. We understand that Plaza del Sol is a beautiful square and that the famous statue of the symbol of Madrid, the strawberry tree and the bear, is located there. We will have to make another trip to Madrid to see this square, as it was closed for renovations.”

Gran Via

Since we were traveling in Madrid and Christmas was not too far off, we took the opportunity to do our Christmas shopping. Prices are much better in Spain than in Iceland, so it was a no-brainer. The main shopping street is Gran Vía, and we cruised up and down it. Gran Vía is Madrid's most famous street. The first designs for its layout were drawn in 1869 when the city center of Madrid was being redesigned. It took the people of Madrid some time to finalize it, as the design work was not completed until 1899, and the construction was not fully finished until 1929. This is not surprising, given the scale of the project. To lay the street, 300 houses and 50 streets had to be demolished. Gran Vía is quite impressive, adorned with many stunningly beautiful buildings. The street is home to numerous theaters and cinemas, hence its nickname, the 'Broadway of Spain.' However, the number of theaters and cinemas has decreased slightly in recent years.

Cibeles square

Eftir að hafa gengið Gran Via til enda og smá spöl eftir Calle de Alcalá komum við inn á Cibeles torgið. Magnað torg þar sem Cibeles brunnurinn og samskiptahöllin eru mest áberandi. Samskiptahöllinn eða Palacio de Cibeles var byggð árið 1919 sem pósthús en þjónar í dag sem ráðhús Madridarborgar. Við torgið eru fleiri merkar byggingar eins og Palacio de Buenovista, Banco de Espania og Palacio de Linares.

The Royal Palace and the Cathedral

"If there is a royal palace in a city, it is, of course, a tourist's duty to visit it. We therefore strolled into Plaza de la Armería, where the Royal Palace is on one side and the Almudena Cathedral on the other. The Royal Palace, one of the largest palaces in Europe, was built between 1738 and 1755 in the Baroque style. When the Moors took full control of Spain, they built an alcázar, or castle, on the hill where the palace now stands, as the location offered panoramic views in all directions. It was Emir Muhammad I who initiated that construction, which rose between 860 and 890. The castle expanded over the centuries, with the largest additions made in the latter half of the 16th century. For a long time, the building retained the castle name (Alcázar) despite having become a royal palace. In fact, little is known about this building, as hardly any drawings of it have been found, except for one from the 16th century."

Það kveiknaði í gömlu höllinni 24. desember 1734 og fjórum árum síðar að skipan Filips V hófst bygging nýju hallarinnar. Sú höll er engin smásmíði. Hún er ein sú stærsta í Vestur Evrópu. Herbergin eru 3.418 í 135 þúsund fermetrum. Almenningur getur fengið að fara skoðunarferð innan hús. Við ákváðum að gera það ekki. Eiginkonan sagði að hún hefði séð nóg af höllum.

Beint á móti innganginum í höllina er dómkirkjan, Cathedral Almudena. Glæsilegt hús og með fallegri kirkjum sem við höfum séð. Maður myndi ætla að í borg eins og Madrid ætti dómkirkjan sér langa sögu en svo er nú ekki. Bygging hennar hófst árið 1878 en hún var ekki vígð til notkunar fyrr en 1993. Vissulega eru margar gamlar kirkjur í Madrid en dómkirkjan er ekki ein af þeim.

El Retiro garðurinn

Retiro Park is the main public park in Madrid. The park is generally bustling with life, and there is always something fun going on. Various artists perform their art here and there throughout the park. There is a man-made lake where you can go boating, a monument to Alfonso XII, the Crystal Palace, a rose garden, art exhibitions, and more. Naturally, we took a stroll through the park. Probably not much was happening, as November is an autumn month. Nevertheless, we were looking at blooming roses in Retiro Park, and the temperature during these November days was like a good summer day in Iceland. Despite not much going on, we happened upon a classic car show, and there was some fun activity for children.

Prada museum

"One evening, we spent two hours at the Prado Museum. In that time, we naturally only saw a tiny fraction of the collection. The museum actually owns 7,600 paintings, 4,800 drawings, and 1,500 sculptures. Admittedly, the entire collection is not on display at once, but plenty is exhibited regardless. One simply does not have the attention span for a visit longer than two to three hours. Old Eduardo, who invited me to Spain, turned out to be a great enthusiast of art and history, so we received absolutely fantastic guidance through the museum, especially regarding the works of Velázquez, Goya, and El Greco. Since photography had not yet been invented when these gentlemen were active, they were essentially the photojournalists of their time, so we received guidance not only on the art but also on history."

School Visit and Toledo

Since the trip was work-related, part of the time was spent sitting in a seminar with school administrators who host groups on behalf of English Matters. We also visited a school with approximately 700 students. The school is called Eurovillas International School, and they place great emphasis on English instruction. According to what Eduardo told us, it is official policy in Spain to place strong emphasis on teaching English. One hardly noticed the size of the school because it consisted of many small buildings rather than one large one, as we are accustomed to in Iceland. The classrooms and furniture were far more modest than what we are used to in Iceland.

In the latter part of the day, we stopped in the city of Toledo, which has a long and remarkable history. It was probably originally chosen for this rugged landscape because of how well the city is naturally protected from attacks. The Tagus River protects it from three sides, and it is situated very high up, over 1,100 meters, so it would not have been easy for invading armies to approach the city unseen. The city is mentioned in Roman records as a small city protected by its location (urbs parva, sed loco munita). The city was conquered by the Roman general Fulvius Nobilior in 193 BC and became the capital of Carpetania. The Visigoths established their court in the city in the sixth century, and it also became important during the Moorish period from 712 to 1085, when Alfonso VI conquered the city. An interesting part of this city’s history was how Muslims, Christians, and Jews managed to live together in peace and harmony for centuries. There is likely something to be learned from that. The city’s importance decreased significantly when Philip II made Madrid the capital of Spain in 1560.”

We received a guided tour of the city center, where an incredibly entertaining guide poured so much knowledge over us that one can remember very little of it. We do, however, remember her telling us about last year's extreme weather. The Spanish are accustomed to fairly mild winters, but up there in the mountains, an unusually powerful cold snap brought temperatures down to 25 degrees of frost, bursting their water pipes. Then came the summer, and the heat was unbelievable. The Spanish are used to temperatures exceeding forty degrees every summer, but the guide described last summer as pure hell. During the day, the temperature rose well above 40 degrees, but what was unusual was that it did not drop below 27 degrees at night. Consequently, the residents did not get any relief in their homes in the morning.

One of the things we remember from the guide's narrative was the story of a famous painting by the master El Greco, which he painted in a chapel by the cathedral. The painting is called 'The Burial of the Count of Orgaz'. That distinguished man governed the city and passed away in the first or second decade of the 14th century. He was clearly highly regarded because the story goes that two saints descended from heaven to bury the man. The painting is divided in two, with the upper half depicting what is happening in heaven, while the lower half shows what is taking place on earth. Naturally, you can find El Greco himself in the painting, as if he had been present when the event occurred. That can hardly be true, however, as the painting was painted in 1586. On our walk through the city center, we saw one shop after another selling swords, knives, and various iron goods. Toledo is specifically known for its high-quality steel and the production of knives and swords.

Ávila

The managers of English Matters clearly wanted to treat us well, as we have been hosting groups from them. One day, Eduardo and Eduardo—yes, there are two of them—organized a day trip that was strictly for sightseeing and exploring Spanish culture. We started by visiting the town of Ávila, which, like Toledo and Madrid, is located on the high plateau of Spain. The town is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. The old town is surrounded by a well-preserved defensive wall. Construction of the wall began in the 12th century. The largest part was built in the 13th century, but it took a full 600 years to complete the entire wall. The wall is 2,500 meters long, 12 meters high, with 88 towers and 9 gates. A truly impressive structure and incredibly well-preserved.

Segovia

After the visit to Ávila, we went to the city of Segovia. Segovia is a city of approximately 60,000 inhabitants and is best known for its well-preserved ancient structures. A magnificent Roman aqueduct runs through the city center. It is believed to have been built towards the end of the first century AD. The aqueduct is built of stones, with no mortar holding them together. It levels out the differences in elevation of the landscape and transports water from the Río Frío river, which is 17 kilometers from the city. The aqueduct was in use until 1973. An absolutely magnificent structure and incredibly well-preserved. We had a very late lunch next to this structure. It was sorely needed, as the group was starving.

"After lunch, we took taxis from the restaurant up to the Alcázar de Segovia, a castle built in the late Middle Ages. The appearance of this castle is very unique, as the architecture is a blend of European (Gothic) and Muslim (Mudéjar) influences. The castle feels as if it were cut straight out of a fairy tale. Possibly because it is, in all likelihood, the model for Snow White's castle at Disney. The castle is built on a rocky outcrop, and it is known that the Romans built some kind of military installation on the rock. The Moors built a fortress on top of the Roman ruins. The first records of a castle on the rock are from the 12th century, shortly after the Christians gained control of the area. The castle has a rich history that can be read here. To make a long story short, the castle has served as a fortress, a royal palace for 22 kings, a royal military academy, and a state prison."

We did not visit the cathedral, but it is surely worth seeing. At the very least, it looked magnificent from the castle. The church was built between 1525 and 1577, and the dome was added in 1630.

Las Ventas and Various Other Things

In addition to the aforementioned places, we wandered around Madrid, as there is, of course, a great deal to see in this wonderful city. We took the time to do our Christmas shopping on Gran Vía. For instance, the second-largest Primark store in the world is located there. A remarkable fact, or something like that. One day, we visited Las Ventas, which is the third-largest bullring in the world and the largest in Spain. Truth be told, we were not very impressed. Our negative attitude toward bullfighting probably plays a role in the experience. However, our overall experience of Madrid was nothing but positive. The transportation is excellent, and there is much to see. If we were to get the urge for a city break in the near future, Madrid would certainly be under consideration. A week in the city would be an appropriate amount of time, and we would absolutely recommend that travelers take day trips out of the city to Toledo, Segovia, and Ávila.

Berlin is a major city by European standards. It is the fifth-largest city in Europe with over three and a half million inhabitants. The city has a history spanning over seven hundred years, making it an extremely interesting city to visit for those interested in the past. Guðrún and I decided to use part of the summer holiday we had saved up to visit the city. Guðrún has been to Berlin before, but this was my first visit. Certainly, there are some magnificent buildings in Berlin, but they are not necessarily old. The reason is the devastation the city suffered in the Second World War, as over seventy percent of it was bombed in air raids in the spring of 1945.

We flew out on a Wednesday morning, landed at Brandenburg Airport around one o’clock, and took the S9 train from Willy Brandt station to Friedrichstrasse station. We walked up to the street, and on the other side was the Eurostar Hotel, where we were staying for the next six nights. It couldn’t have been more convenient, right? Of course, the taxi drivers were standing outside the terminal, trying to lure us into their cars. A trip into town probably costs about 50 euros, but the train ride cost 7 euros for both of us. A nice saving there.

Olympiastadium

On the first day, we just strolled around the immediate vicinity of the hotel, but the following day we made a trip to the Olympic Stadium and bought a guided tour of it. Originally, there was a racetrack in this area, but the first version of sports facilities was built on the site for the Olympic Games scheduled for 1916. As it turned out, no games took place that year due to the First World War. In 1931, Berlin was awarded the right to host the eleventh Olympic Games, and the Nazis, who came to power in 1933, decided to use the games for propaganda purposes. They had the stadium that stands there today built. The stadium held no less than 110,000 spectators. The Nazis wanted to showcase their power and strength. Today, the stadium has been renovated in line with modern requirements. It now holds nearly 75,000 spectators. The stadium is the home ground of the football team Hertha Berlin. Hertha Berlin rents the stadium for their home games, which is a problem for them. There are plans to build a home stadium for the team in the near future. The stadium is also used for all kinds of larger events, such as concerts. Rammstein last played at the stadium.

Bike Tour

We heard back home in Iceland that it was possible to get an Icelandic-guided tour of the city with “Berlínurnar”. We took the plunge and booked a bike tour and guide for Friday. We rented the bikes at the hotel, as most hotels offer bike rentals. The bike tour was supposed to start at the Neptune Fountain by the Red City Hall. There, we found the guide and the group, which wasn’t really a group. It was actually just us and another couple. Then, we biked to the city’s main landmarks. The bike tour ended in a beer garden, where we naturally had a beer and pizza. Cycling around Berlin proved to be much more comfortable than we expected. You just have to be careful not to put your tires into the tracks where the trams run. The traffic was not a problem at all, and frankly, we didn’t think it was particularly heavy. We have seen much worse in other big cities.

Probably the Brandenburg Gate is the best-known landmark of the city of Berlin. About a hundred years before the gate was built, Berlin was surrounded by a fortress wall, and only a few gates allowed access to the town. At that time, Berlin was a town rather than a city. The Brandenburg Gate was not one of these city gates. Around 1730, the entrances into town were increased, as Berlin was on its way to becoming a city. The gates then numbered eighteen and served the function of toll gates. One of them was the Brandenburg Gate. The gate takes its name from the city of Brandenburg an der Havel, as the gate marked the beginning of the route from Berlin to that city. Between 1788 and 1791, Friedrich Wilhelm II oversaw the construction of the gate as we know it today, with the goddess of victory, Victoria, on top.

The Central Station

The old station building was demolished in 2002 despite being a listed building, and this new station was built in its place. Guðrún and I found Berlin Central Station impressive. It wasn’t the architecture that charmed us, as the station is a massive, modern glass building. The station was opened in 2006, and it was really its size that captivated us. We Icelanders have no comparable transport hub. Berlin – Hauptbahnhof was built between 2002 and 2006 on the site of a former transport hub called Lehrter Stadtbahnhof.

Lehrter Stadtbahnhof was opened in 1882 and initially served transport to and from the city. Around 1930, it also began serving as a transport hub for travel within the city. When the city was divided into East and West, its importance diminished significantly because the next station was Friedrichstrasse station, which was in East Berlin. When the wall was built, the station’s importance decreased even further. When the wall later fell, the station’s importance increased again.

The Television Tower

The Fernsehturm, or television tower, is one of Berlin’s landmarks, being the fourth-tallest structure in Europe at a full 368 meters. It is possible to go up the tower and enjoy a magnificent view over Berlin. It wouldn’t be a bad idea to book a table at the restaurant at the very top of the tower, spinning circle after circle while enjoying both the view and the food. We, the couple, did neither. When the sun shines on the tower, the shadows are cast on the curved glass sphere in such a way that a cross appears to form on it. Berliners say this is the Pope’s revenge in Rome for the treatment Christianity received east of the Iron Curtain.

The Cathedral

There is no German city that does not boast a magnificent church. Berlin Cathedral is located on Museum Island in the middle of Berlin. A church has stood there since Frederick Iron Tooth had a church built connected to the palace in Berlin in 1451. The church that stands there today was consecrated in 1905. It is a massive structure and was intended to be the Lutheran church that could serve as a counterweight to St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Upon entering, it is the dome that attracts the most attention, along with the paintings on it. One does not realize that each painting is over ninety square meters in size, as the church is 116 meters high. Guðrún and I made the effort to scramble up the stairs to the dome to enjoy the view over the city. Although our heart rates took a decent leap from this stair-climbing, it was worth it. Underneath the church is a crypt worth exploring, but we were not allowed to go down there due to some renovations that were being made.

War Relics and Monuments

It is impossible not to think about the tragedy of the Second World War when visiting Berlin. We were pleased to see that the Germans are not hiding that sad history, and they seem to emphasize the events that serve as a warning rather than the war story itself. For example, they choose not to show the bunker where Hitler spent his last days. There is just a lame parking lot there. By doing this, they prevent modern-day Nazis from turning the place into a holy site for pilgrimages. Instead, they show Hitler’s history in another minor bunker that does not look like much, but they make more of a monument to the Holocaust.

The Holocaust memorial occupies about nineteen thousand square meters of valuable land in the middle of Berlin. This has certainly sparked controversy in Berlin, but the memorial stands there and is impactful. It was built in 1999 according to the design of American architect Peter Eisenman. What can be read into the design is up to each individual, as the designer himself has never revealed what he was thinking.

Reichstag and the Red City Hall

There is a large area in front of the parliament building. Previously, the Victory Column was in the middle of the field, but the Nazis felt it was in the way when they were preaching to the masses. We visited the parliament building in Berlin twice. The first time was during the bike tour with “Berlínurnar,” and the second time was on the last day of the trip. The parliament building is a massive structure near the Spree River, with Tiergarten to the west and the Brandenburg Gate to the south. The building was put into use in 1894 and was the headquarters of the Imperial Empire from that time until the Weimar Republic took over. The building was constructed in a Renaissance style and is quite magnificent. In 1933, a great fire occurred in the building, and that event triggered a process that ended with Hitler seizing absolute power in Germany. The parliament building was severely damaged in the Allied bombing during the Second World War, but after renovations and the reunification of East and West Germany, it was used again as a parliament building. Now, the lower house of the German parliament meets in the building.

My wife and I were content with admiring the building from the outside. If we had been foresighted, we could have booked access to the building in advance, and we probably should have done that because it wouldn’t have cost us anything. If we had done that, we would presumably have been able to get a great view over the city from the massive glass dome that was built in 1999.

The Berlin Wall

The wall was 5 meters high and 45 km long. In reality, it was two walls with about 150 meters between them. The area between the walls was called the death zone. It must be admitted that the history of this remarkable city makes one reflect on how fragile human existence is. This is especially true of the history of Berlin that is closer to us in time. The power struggles in Germany following the First World War created the soil for the rise of the Nazis, and all the horrors that followed that rise weigh heavily on the mind. The solutions offered to Europe after the fall of the Nazis did not improve one’s mood either. The Berlin Wall, or the remains of it, bears witness to those horrors. It is frankly terrifying to put this history into context with what is going on in Europe right now. The similarities are eerily great. One asks oneself if history is about to repeat itself. Again and again, these reflections took flight as we explored the main points of interest in this fine city.

Guðrún’s and my trip east of the Iron Curtain in August 1989 came back to us as we listened to the guide’s account of the wall and its origins at Checkpoint Charlie. We felt a bit like ghosts from a distant past when we told the young people who were with us on the bike tour of our experience of life east of the Iron Curtain before the wall fell. Which it did in October of the same year we were there. This was a “My children, my children. When I was at sea...” experience. We were then to visit two other places where the origins of the wall were commemorated. In one place, a long, standing section of the wall was decorated with artwork by artists from all over the world. In the other place, there was a monument to the wall and the 141 East Germans who died trying to escape over the wall to West Berlin. The last one died on March 8, 1989, when he fell from a hot air balloon he intended to fly over the wall in. During the period 1961–1988, over a hundred thousand people tried to escape to West Germany, and over 600 of them were killed by East German border guards.

Dining Out

One of the things that comes with trips like this is sitting in restaurants and cafes. On our trip to Berlin, we went out to eat surprisingly little. Things just worked out that way somehow. The first evening, we were simply too late, and one restaurant after another turned us away at the door because they were completely full. Therefore, we ended up at the Doner Kebab joint by Friedrichstrasse station and had a kebab with way too much chili. The next day, we had walked so much that we simply didn’t have the energy to do anything but grab some fast food. The third evening, we went to a decent restaurant and had an expensive steak. The day after that, I got some kind of stomach bug and was not in a state to be out among people. The following day was spent recovering, so the Indian guy at the kebab joint saved us again. It wasn’t until the second-to-last evening that we sat down in a decent restaurant again. Of course, we had schnitzel.

Photo Gallery

The Government Employees' Association owns summer houses in four locations around the country. This must be considered quite good, considering there are only about 250 members. The houses are located in Akureyri, Munaðarnes in Borgarfjörður, Brekkuskógur in Biskupstungur, and Flatey. Guðrún and I have utilized all these houses except for the one in Flatey. Now, it was time. Guðrún and her colleague, Anna María, agreed to stay together in the Flatey house during their summer vacation. Jóhann, Anna María's husband, and I accompanied them as part of the women's agreement.

The trip began with uncertainty about whether the ferry Baldur was sailing or not. The ship had been under repair all week. Right on this Friday, it became clear that the repairs were finished, and we sailed out to Flatey on the Baldur. The sea was calm, so we barely felt that we were at sea. A large number of people clearly intended to stay on the island over the weekend, because I could swear I heard that 300 people were on board the ferry. About half of them intended to land in Flatey. Most were dying of thirst and quenched it with beer or white wine. It didn't really matter, because the mood was good. We thought it likely that most people intended to go home after the weekend, and that the days would be quieter during the week. Flatey is located on the Barðarströnd side of Breiðafjörður. The sailing there takes about an hour and a half. Then, there is another hour of sailing left for those intending to continue across to Brjánslækur. The ferry docked at Tröllendi, which is on the southeastern part of Flatey. Then, hard work began: getting our belongings up to the house.

It turned out to be quite an effort because we had to carry our stuff up the hill from the dock to the house. The house we are staying in is called Ráðagarður and is a few hundred meters from the dock. The trailer, which we understood was supposed to be either at the house or at the dock, was nowhere to be found. Therefore, there was nothing to do but tackle the carrying ourselves.

Actually, there were men on the dock with tractors and trailers, but they weren't there to service us, but rather the people intending to stay at the hotel. One of the tractor drivers turned out to be a merciful Samaritan and allowed us to quickly toss our stuff onto his trailer and moved it the last stretch. The next hurdle was finding the key to the house. Then, when we opened the front door, the transport carts were staring us right in the face in the entryway. I should have looked in through the window there when I dashed up to the house in search of the carts.

Flatey is one of the 40 West Islands of Breiðafjörður, and it is the largest of them. The island is about two km long and half a km wide at its widest point. As its name suggests, it is flat. Its highest ridge is Lundaberg in the northeastern part. There, the cliff is 10–12 meters high. It has been inhabited in Flatey since the earliest times. The settler Þrándur mjóbeinn was the first to live on the island. Flatey is well situated for rich fishing grounds. The harbor is a horseshoe-shaped rock formation that provides shelter from all directions. When the first census was taken in 1703, 106 people lived in Flatey. The inhabitants were most numerous just after the turn of the century in 1900, when about 200 people lived on the island. After that, permanent habitation in Flatey began to decline, and today five people have permanent residence on the island all year round. In the summer, however, there is a lot of life in Flatey because the island is a popular summer vacation spot due to its pleasant weather. The village itself is at Gríluvogur, and it is a delightful collection of old houses from the 18th and 19th centuries.

Saturday began exactly the way you want it to when you are on summer vacation. At a slow pace. We went out after noon and strolled down to the village. We looked at the old houses there. Most of the houses have been nicely renovated, and the entire environment is tidy. Actually, aside from the sheep manure that you might step in, even right outside the front door. The sheep, you see, roam freely all over the island. Our walk ended at Lundaberg, which bears its name because of the puffins that live by the cliff. We sat on a bench there and enjoyed watching the birdlife. We met the park ranger and had a long chat with him. He is from Patreksfjörður, and we could, of course, discuss that area as well. It hasn't been that many years since we traveled there, and I also lived in the neighboring village during my teenage years. The ranger told us that the puffin population by the cliff had suffered somewhat. Just off the cliff is a nesting sanctuary that is closed to public access until July 15th. The idea is to give the birds peace to nest and raise their young. They are specifically looking out for the Red-necked Phalarope, as a few pairs nest on the island. It wouldn't be bad to see a Red-necked Phalarope, as that bird is particularly uncommon here in the country. Otherwise, we saw various types of birds on this walk of ours. Chickens greeted us by the road down to the village, and by the house, a Black-tailed Godwit sat on a pole. At Lundaberg, there was a lot of Arctic Tern, and a Snow Bunting waddled around us while we sat there. We also saw an Oystercatcher, a Red-necked Phalarope, and a Fulmar.

Around four o'clock, we came back to Ráðagarður and matters were dissected with our fellow travelers. Jóhann clearly enjoys finding a weak spot in teachers, being surrounded by such people in his in-laws' family. From him, I learned this verse.

Eins varð ég áskynja í réttinni.
Ekki skal lúrt á fréttinni.
Hér hef ég séð
hvað sauðkindin er
keimlík kennarastéttinni.

I noticed this at the sheep round-up,
the news shouldn't be lingered over.
I have seen here,
how the sheep is
quite similar to teachers.

We heard that there would be a dance at Hótel Flatey that evening. Around half-past nine, we went there. We bought ourselves drinks, and around ten o'clock, the festivities began. The band Skárri en ekkert (SKE) [Better than nothing], led by Guðmundur Steingrímsson, began playing for dancing. The small hall was packed with people of all ages—from children up to older people. We suppose we have to admit that we were on the older side at this gathering. The dancing was thunderous and typical of modern Icelandic dancing. People jumped up and down. There wasn't really anything else possible in the cramped space.

Sunday dawned. The weather was fine; it had rained during the night, so everything was soaking wet. We took our first photography walk along the southeastern shore from the dock to the church. On the way, I was, of course, scanning for a promising spot to cast a fishing line. I think I will start by trying the bay below Ráðagarður, where the wreck of the fishing boat lies on the shore. On the walk, we also looked into the library, which is notable for being the second oldest library in Iceland. It was built in 1864 and stood for ninety years where the church stands now. Then it was moved further inland onto the library green, and the church was built where the library used to stand. Originally, the library was built to house the book collection of the Flatey Islanders' Improvement Society and was built through the efforts of Brynjólfur Benediktsson.

Veðrið kom okkur skemmtilega á óvart á mánudeginum því hann reyndist bjartur og fagur. Snæfellsjökull blasti við okkur í suðri og fjöllin á Barðaströndinni í norðri. Til vesturs var opið hafið svo langt sem augað eygði. Við Guðrún höskuðum okkur út fyrir hádegi og skoðuðum kirkjuna og umhverfi hennar. Í Flatey hefur verið kirkja frá 11. eða 12. öld. Núverandi kirkja var teiknuð af Guðjóni Samúelssyni og byggð árið 1926.

In 1964, Baltasar Samper painted the altarpiece and ceiling paintings in the church. Due to poor conditions in the church, the original paintings were damaged by moisture, and Baltasar, along with his wife, repainted the work in 1992. The paintings they created trace the cultural and industrial history of the islands, and the models for the people are real islanders. Except for Jesus Christ, who stands in a wool sweater (lopapeysa) next to the last two farmers on the island. Jesus is suspiciously similar to Baltasar himself. Regardless, the work is magnificent.

Around half-past one, Guðrún and I headed down to the shore directly below Ráðagarður. We cast our lines out into Flateyjarsund or Svefneyjarsund. We used mackerel for bait. We let one line lie on the bottom and the other hang from a float. After about half an hour, the rod where the bait was on the bottom started to twitch, and a two-pound cod was landed. Fish took the bait four times, but only this one was brought to land. The others made a move but then disappeared. Conditions were a bit tricky because for the last few meters near the shore, the sea was covered in seaweed, and the fish had to be dragged over it. It was a good thing it wasn't any larger than it was.

Um kvöldið gengum við Guðrún út á Lundaberg og urðum þar fyrir alvarlegu aðkasti kríunnar. Þar sem við göngum eftir göngustígnum steypir hver krían eftir aðra sig yfir okkur og voru þær illskeyttar mjög. Ósvífni þeirra átti sé engin takmörk og náðu þær að drita á bæði mig og Guðrúnu. Ástæða þess hve illskeyttar þær voru átti sér skýringar. Á göngustígnum voru kríuungar sem fullorðnu fuglunum fannst nauðsynlegt að verja.

An unusually deep low-pressure system for this time of year is now approaching the country from the south and will cause heavy rain in West Iceland. The low will move slowly, the meteorologist said, and smiled. Guðrún and I didn’t see any reason to smile about this because it meant that the unpleasant weather would drag on until Friday and in all likelihood prevent our plans to fish in Hraunsfjörður in the latter part of that day. We will see what happens with that. Possibly, the low will have moved far enough east when we come ashore that a fly will be cast into Hraunsfjörður after all.

We decided to walk around the eastern part of the island on Wednesday morning. We enjoyed the outdoors and watched the behavior of the birds. It would have been very nice to have a decent zoom lens because the opportunities for bird photography were endless. However, we managed to take good pictures with our 100 mm lens because the black guillemot and especially the puffin allowed us to get quite close to them. Guðrún even thought she managed to capture a Red-necked Phalarope in a photo, but it was on her phone, so the picture is rather unclear. It seems to be becoming a rule that when Guðrún and I rent a summer house and Harpa takes care of the dog, she [Harpa] ends up in some kind of trouble. Last year, her basement flooded. Now, Lappi got sick. The illness manifested in vomiting and diarrhea.

The weather on Thursday did not offer much opportunity for outdoor activities, so the time was mostly spent reading and writing. Guðrún prepared a delicious meal for us from the cod we caught off Tröllendi. Afterward, we had waffles and whipped cream for afternoon coffee, so we were certainly not lacking anything. I did actually dash down to the shore and cast a spoon lure, but I didn't last long at that activity. I found it uncomfortably slippery on the wet rocks. In the afternoon, Guðrún and I were getting bored of the confinement and strolled down to Vesturvör to take pictures of the sea's movement with the village and the harbor in the background. I think we managed to take some good pictures.

Exactly fifteen years ago, my colleagues—Örn, Bjössi, Valli—and I attended the Bett show in London. The Bett show centers on software and hardware for learning and teaching. There, you can see all the latest innovations in one place, and I felt it was time to visit the exhibition again.

On Friday afternoon, after two days of trekking between exhibition booths at the ExCeL exhibition center, I sat down with a cup of coffee at a Jerusalem Costa Coffee somewhere in central London. I pulled out a worn notebook and a pen, intending to process what I had seen. Of course, much has changed in the fifteen years since I last attended this exhibition.

This time, I felt there was a significant emphasis on larger solutions for registration and the management of various aspects related to learning, teaching, and organization. These included solutions for recording assessments, managing parent communication, overseeing students’ digital learning environments, and so on. Regarding classroom instruction, I saw mostly equipment for creating virtual reality and tools for programming. In terms of hardware, touchscreens and Chromebooks were most prominent.

I must confess that as I trekked between the booths, I wondered who I would actually be buying this equipment for, if I even decided to buy anything at all. It has been proven that it is very difficult to get teachers to utilize technical equipment in any meaningful way. The Smart Boards we have at the school are a clear example of that. I have doubts that both the programming equipment and the virtual reality glasses would serve any sensible pedagogical purpose. I was far from being impressed.

Saturday was a free day, and I started the day early. I strolled to the train station at Great Portland Street and took the train over to Edgware Road, where I switched to the Yellow (Circle) Line to get to South Kensington station. There are several interesting museums in that vicinity—museums like the Natural History Museum, the Victoria and Albert Museum, and the Science Museum.

I started by stopping at the Royal Albert Hall to try and buy a guided tour of this historic concert hall. Unfortunately, I had to turn away; the building was not open for tours that day due to a Cirque du Soleil performance. Instead, I sat down at the café inside the concert hall and rested my weary feet for a while. I poked my head into both Imperial College and the Victoria and Albert Museum, but stayed only briefly at both. I explored the Natural History Museum, where I stayed much longer, and then headed over to Westminster to see the Churchill War Rooms.

The Churchill War Rooms is a museum that shows the facilities the British set up during the war. The headquarters were underground, and from there they intended to direct British operations safely, even as German bombs rained down on London. In reality, they weren’t actually safe at all, because the underground bunker was not bomb-proof. The British were lucky that no bomb ever hit the bunker.

The museum is split into two parts. On one hand, you stroll between rooms and receive information about the role of each individual room and various tidbits about life down there. On the other hand, you can learn about the main man himself, Churchill; he was a remarkable man and in many ways an entertaining figure. He was a man of words. Once, a politician said to him that he would rather support the Devil himself than Churchill. Churchill replied: “But if he is not a candidate, can I then count on your support?”

I certainly would have stayed much longer at the museum if I wasn´t feeling so blody awful because of a cold. I decided to find a pharmacy to see if there was anything available that could somewhat alleviate my cold symptoms. Lo and behold, in Britain there are tablets called Sudafed, and after about half an hour, everything clears up and I feel like I’m ready for anything. Here at home [in Iceland], the only thing offered is nasal spray, which provides relief for just a short while but dries out the nose in the process.

Thanks to the Sudafed, I was now in a good enough mood to stroll around the area above Trafalgar Square. I really enjoyed watching the city life; here and there, musicians sat and performed their music, and most of them were actually quite good. In the Soho district, the streets had been decorated because the Year of the Rat is beginning according to the Chinese calendar. The crowds were enormous. I didn’t head back to the hotel until eleven o’clock that night.