Shores in Flames

Posting a comment wasn't so difficult was it? Now it means you can do it all the time. Come on people, feed my ego... Thanks for all the posting, but I can obviously see some idiots amongst you who are champions of Braveheart... Don't waste your time watching this shit, watch something good, start off with La Haine and work from there. Life is too short for Mel Gibson...

Earlier this week, we machined a large amount of material from Area B, that we would have had to have removed by hand. Now, call me old fashioned but the idea of spending a week trowelling off peat ash deposits fills me with dread for my mental state of mind. So the idea to machine layers off was a blessed relief. After this had happened a few of us cleaned up the entire tent ready for more removal of material. When this was finished I managed to be the only one left in the warm, dry tent to record the deposits. Ha! IN YOUR FUCKING FACES YOU ICELANDIC RACISTS!!! The Brits are back in charge. Everyone else was back in the cold draughty tent whilst I was living the life of Riley in the lap of luxury. I even had butler service. My well needed solitude wasn't to last and a few people were moved back into the tent after I'd finished recording all the layers.

At about eleven on Wednesday night the Northern Lights were the best we've seen whilst being here, I however was slightly distracted, so didn't fully appreciate their incredible natural beauty...

On Thursday night, Jo and I went to the cinema around the corner from the house. Despite having me only having three hours sleep the night before, fucking thinking about fucking things, we went to see 'Burn After Reading'. All I can say is, see it. Then see it again. Clooney and Pitt are so obviously having so much fun making the film it is infectious and I will never see John Malkovich in the same light again...

Friday finally rolled around and despite initial ideas to go into town, Jo and I decided to spend the night in. It was pay day (finally...) and we headed to the wine shop after work. This was a very necessary trip as of this weekend, thanks to the war between Britain and Iceland, prices are starting to go up and booze will increase by 25%!! It's like war-time Britain with rationing and everything. Before you know it we will be drinking powdered wine and shops will be displaying signs saying "Yes, we have no Putrefied Shark!". In Iceland the government controls the sale of booze and decides at what time you can buy it. Which basically translates as any time between about 1pm and 2pm on Wednesday afternoon. Or at least if feels like it. You have to get in there fast and make your purchases quickly before they pull the shutters down. This leads to a situation when you've left the shop realising that you have bought loads of shit you didn't want in a desperate rush to buy SOMETHING. I end with Cooking Sherry, Brazilian Whiskey and six cans of Egil's Malt Appelsin, and that's on a good day. Friday was no different and Jo and I left the Vínbúðin (Booze shop) with a box of 24 Budvar bottles. I tell you, that walk home was a long one... I'm sure Hercules had to do something similar in his twelve tasks, it came straight after the one where he had to clean the Augean stables in a single day. After this heroic task we decided to stay in and drink the bottles until we were stupid. I went swimming with Roz and Duncan first of all. When I mean swimming, I mean I sat in the hot pots whilst Roz and Duncan did some real exercise.

On Saturday, Hrafnkell came and picked us all up for our road trip down south, we went to the recycling centre and dropped off all the bottles we have been accumulating in the house for the past month or so (Owing to Jo's booze habit of about eight bottles of wine a night, we were at the stage of making furniture out the empties as there wasn't enough room left and they were taking over the house...). Then we headed down south to the Waterfall whose name I forget, the frozen path reached around the back of the falls and although Hrappi and Duncan made it round there, the soles of my shoes just weren't up to the task of walking on ice and I had to stay behind. The next call was at the bigger waterfall of Skógarfoss which was frozen but had much easier access. The name translates as Forest Falls, or something similar, but I was fucked if I could even see a single tree, never mind a forest... We climbed to the top of the 60 meter falls and marveled at the wonders of Mother Nature, then laughed as Hrappi fell over in the mud...

After gazing in awe at Skógarfoss we headed on East and turned off the road towards the Glacier at Sólheimajökull, which could be reached by a tiny dirt road across a wide desert like valley from where we could see Mýrdalsjökull, Iceland's fourth largest Glacier. With a couple of hairy moments we reached the Glacier and were all blown away by it's sheer size and majesty. Finally the school party that seemed to have been shadowing us all day left and we had the place to ourselves as the sun was setting. The colours of the place were unbelievable and the skies amazing. We headed onto Vík for some food and with Jo's inane directions and bad navigation searching for a place we finally ended up back at the place we started and I had fish and chips for me dinner.

After a straight two hour drive back the five of us headed out into Reykjavik for drinkies until five, when I headed for bed.

Atli Quotes: On Hrafnkell fancying Jo's Mother 'Isn't that the Octopus Syndrome?'

On the direct translation of New Years Eve from Icelandic to English: 'Old Year's Night.'

On the direct translation of slang for taking a shit in Icelandic 'Playing chess with the Pope.'

Competition Time!!

The past few posting titles have had a linked theme running through them. I'm not going to tell you which ones have the link, but if you can tell me the link you will win a Alex Sotheran pencil and a free subscription to this weblog, just put your answers in the comments...

Goliath and the Vampires

This has been a turbulent week, Roz and Duncan showed up on Saturday but because I was at a party I couldn't meet them in town, so on Sunday I met them and we all went to the Longhouse Museum which is located just over the road from our site. It´s an excellent place full of touchy-feely exhibits. I wanted to go as we may be able to catch some of the outhouses from this structure on our site. I wanted to see how turf walls look in situ. The museum has the fully excavated longhouse totally preserved, so the walls were there in all their glory. We wandered around town for an hour or so, then I headed back to my apartment and food. After which I met up with them both again and we all went swimming in my local pool. Apparently the sauna is the place to pick up gay men in Iceland, so needless to say I stayed away... I spend most of my time int he swimming pool in the hot pots, there´s four of them and the range in temperature from 32 degrees to 44 degrees. I can only take the 44 degree one for a short while before my heart starts beating too fast.

On Tuesday a massive storm hit us, it mainly went through the night. It was so strong that the Iceland rescue team (A sort of Paramilitary armed force that Iceland has instead of an army.) had to be called out to help secure the poles, with the use of the mini digger.

Hrafnkell and I had been taking about playing Sudoku live, here in Reykjavik, in support of his band Thingtakk, so we were supposed to go and practice on Thursday night. It was also a chance for me to go and check out his band. The bassist called in sick, however and rehearsal was cancelled, so instead Hrafnkell drove me over to his house and his wife made us dinner, then I showed him a few ninja riffs.

Friday night was PARTY night!! We had a visit from the archaeology department from the University of Reykjavik, it´s called a science trip, where the students were given a lecture and then we all tucked into lashings of beer. The problem was it all kicked off rather early by Icelandic standards, about 7.00pm. So by the time we´d all got to the pub about midnight everyone was well and truly wankered. Atli The King of Scotland bought me a stupid drink he called a Blue Cadillac, it was four shots; two separate shots of vodka, each topped up with sambuca and tequilla. The sambuca and vodka were set alight, the flame was blown out and I began drinking it through a straw whilst Atli poured the tequila and vodka mix in on top... Needless to say, I didn´t stay out much longer.

I spent yesterday trying, in vain, to buy a ticket to Boston. The fucking ticket office of Icelandic Air doesn´t open on a Saturday... as the airport was close to the Perlan (the building which provides Reykjavik with it´s geo-thermal hot water.), I wandered up to have a look at the Saga Museum that is located in one of the disused tanks. This was a Viking version of Madame Tussuad´s, maybe it would be better named Madame Tussuadsðottir. Various wax models told the history of Iceland in a rather potted way, I was quite disappointed as I was expecting preserved copies of the original Sagas, not some two-bit waxy Viking bullshit. On the slopes of the Perlan I found some, slurp slurp, concrete bunkers from the last war. I don´t seem to be able to go very far without tripping over some battlefield archaeology. I would have took photos, but being the cunt that I am, I forgot to take my camera. And my hat. Which I needed on the way to the airport when it started hailing sideways, when I was walking over some open fields. Then I met Angelos and we had a coffee and well needed chat, then bumped into Duncan and Roz and arranged to meet them both later for a few drinks. We went into town about midnight and went to the cheapest pub in Reykjavik (only 78 pounds a pint!). I wasn´t really in much of a party mood and probably wasn´t very good company, for which I can only apologise to Duncan and Roz.

Ha ha, here is my first posting since arriving in Iceland. Man this country is MAD!! With a capital M A and D. I arrived after a three hour flight at Keflivik Airport, flying in over some Lava fields. Angelos met me at the Bus station and we took a taxi to the apartment. Now, this place is like the house equivalent of the Marie Celeste. It´s just as though the people living there just upped and left, the place is still full of their stuff. It´s kind of like being a house guest in your mate´s mum´s place. The house was full or Religious ornamentation, but the other lads took it all down before I arrived. Possibly in case I melted or went into a warp spasm.

Angelos and I hit the town on Saturday night and the reputation that Reykjavik has as a party town was not just talk. It wasn´t until about midnight that places started filling up and when they did, it got mad. Even at 4am people were queueing to get into the hottest bars. The only reason I didn´t stay out was that I´d been up and travelling since about 7.00am the previous morning. This Friday will be different though...

I was up quite early on sunday and went into town to visit the national museum, with it´s excellent Viking bits and pieces. Then Angelos and I went over to the local swimming pool and had a dip in the hot pots.

Work wise, it´s all grand, the crew are nice but inexperienced and I get free internet at lunch time, as it is now...

Not much else to tell right now, I will add more when i can......