The Aurora, a Town, and the Elves

The third week of the semester. Time passes slowly in Iceland. I'm already convinced I'm behind in everything-may or may not be the case. But it's very distracting being surrounded by a city where everything is at least mildly interesting and exorbitantly expensive, and having the largest group of friends I've had since I quit playing D&D.

Saw the Aurora last night-a gleam of it the night before, and then a full show of it. Spectacular, particularly considering we're in the middle of the city, it's early in the year, and it's supposed to be a bad year for seeing it. But there was a green line the stretched north to south, that split off and forked and widened and faded, then reappeared in different places, though it always seemed aligned north-south. Reminded me of so many things, though it was unlike anything else: Green smoke coming off the mountains in the north, a sort of serpentine dragon-an eagle, even, when the light would sharpen into thousands of tiny lines that looked like feathers. Certainly I'm convinced that Bifrost refers to this, not to a rainbow. You can imagine Heimallr watching at the top of it, waiting for the end of the world. Voluspa offers a certainly possibility (if you choose to interpret the rather ambiguous ending this way) of Ragnarok being repeated, possibly even cyclically. Maybe the end of the world came with every major eruption-the most poignant, terrifying scene in the already colorful world of the Icelandic heavenly drama. A black cloud over the interplay of light.

No pictures of it, unfortunately. Didn't want to risk missing anything to run back for my camera. But went out a walking tour of Hafnarfjöður yesterday, and got pictures of various highlights (mostly of deeply, and almost offensively, touristy things):

A replica of the much debated image of

Thor/Jesus/Leprechaun

For anyone who didn't yet know this, I have a thing

for naked women with instruments. Particularly

instruments that look very mandolin-like.

The best part, possibly, of the whole byzantine, whorish display of the

Viking Hotel. A a very practical sign, as anyone whose been

in Reykjavik on the weekend knows.

Ignore the Englishman. He gets in all my shots.

Built into a wall of basalt in a little park, wherein the elves

and the hidden folk are supposed to dwell. As usual,

I made no effort to identify who it depicts.

Modern Icelandic architecture. David seems to love it.

I'm inclined to frown at it, though it beats the predominant

building of reykjavik: a two story shack with a high concrete

foundation and sheet metal walls.

It's technically a separate town, though it has a sort of suburban feel. Encountered the Icelandic version of Starbucks, and a single Douglas fir. I was warned that I might anger the elves if I climbed it. It's my home's damned tree-I can't imagine Icelandic spirits of any kind making a convincing case for their possession of it. But I suppose it's good to be cautious.