Our group has a new member, David, who is a friend of Molly and Renee and will join us for a few days. The seven of us walk through neighborhoods to find the The Elfschool, by turns thinking it will be in a business or a private home depending on the block we're on. We find the right building, and go to the second story of a business. The hallway is cluttered with boxes and a few gnome statues.
I want to make a beautiful sign and entryway for The Elfschool to give it presence.
Books and bric-a-brac.
Inside, it's murky and claustrophobic. I can't tell if this is an apartment space or business space: the small rooms are lined with bookcases and shelves crammed with books and papers. More boxes, knickknacks, paintings, and stuff is piled everywhere. I can hear our host and teacher, Magnus, at a desk somewhere in front of me but I'm at the back of the group and can't see him. Christina (from my grad program) and her husband Ryan are in Iceland at the same time as our group, and they join us for the class. I'm so happy to see another familiar face! Ryan doesn't know everyone, but he's a good sport and jumps right in. Every time Magnus asks if we want something and then says "That's costs extra!" and laughs, Ryan hits me and says "Well, pay the man!" Now nine, we're joined by a mother, grandmother, sitter, and two young kids for the class. We all squeeze in to a small room to listen to Magnus.
Magnus is an expansive man, filling the space with his physicality and personality. He's a born story-teller. I think he could have been a carnival barker. He's by turns charming and wildly inappropriate. Mostly I think it's funny, but his liberal use of "fuck" as a verb in front of the attending kids makes me (and others, I think) squirm a bit. I don't know what I expected elf school to be, but this isn't quite it. I assumed we would hear a little about the history of Iceland, how early folklore evolved, what people believe today, and the differences between types of fairy folk. This class is much less chronological, less ordered. Magnus tells us several anecdotes, several first- and second-hand accounts he's collected from people who have seen, talked to, and interacted with elves. He tells us there are elves, which are small, and hidden people, which are human-sized. He talks about different dimensions, about different planes of existence. About ghosts. Aliens. Life after death. He firmly believes everything he's saying to be truth. I don't not believe the things he's saying, but I don't believe them either. I believe he believes them. That's enough for me.
After hours of stories, we break for food. Our nine stay in the room, and the other family is given a (much needed, I'm sure!) break from us in another room. Magnus' husband is a small, kind man who brings us fairy pancakes and "the best bread in Iceland." The bread is good, but I'm more interested in the pancakes and eat two. Magnus says they're made from a recipe given to a human woman by an elf woman she was friends with. They're thin, like crepes, and folded to be stuffed with delicious whipped cream and jam. We have tea, and I have to steal more cakes and cups from the other family. Magnus' husband brings us another plate of pancakes and we eat all of those, too.
Fairy pancakes.
Molly, Becca, Renee, and Christina serving.
Bex and me with bonus squinty-eye.
Becca, Joe, Kate, Molly, David, Renee, Ryan, and Christina in our classroom.
Ryan, Devon, Christina, Kate, Joe, Molly, Magnus, David, and Renee.
Magnus gives us each a certificate of completion for the class. Most of our group is very serious about adding this to our Linked In profiles and resumes. Mine will be framed in my home office when I have one.
After class, the seven of us walk to a bus stop to go downtown. We pass a few shops/galleries I want to go into, but most people are restless to keep moving, and I don't know this neighborhood well enough to find the bus stop on my own. For the first time, I'm frustrated by how many people we are trying to please at once, and feel stupid for not being able to navigate on my own. On the bus, I have to sit in an aisle seat and stare straight ahead so I don't get motion sick. I feel like I look snotty, but hope the group understands.
We go to the The Icelandic Philological Museum ("the penis museum"). There's an interesting documentary on the collection you can watch on Netflix right now. Thanks to the doc, I know what to expect, but I'm still grossed out. I don't mind anatomy, but the specimens all have the decayed look biological specimens get. As you would expect, whale penises are huge. Hamster penises are tiny. My least favorite specimen is the human penis, which still has hair and testicles. I giggle way too much that the whale section has a page titled "Moby Dick."
Guess why this ram is included in the museum.
I hate this logo. But I also think you'd hate me for posting a bunch of penises.
After the museum, I'm determined to go to Kolaportid, the big flea market Reykjavik has on weekends. The whole group wants to go, in various degrees of urgency, but I'm adamant so I rush ahead with Becca and Joe. The market is actually a let-down. There are too many tacky imports, too much garage sale rejects. But I find Scrooge McDuck comics from Iceland and Denmark for Jason, and I try some dried cod that a little old man gives me. I read that I had to try a hotdog from the market, but the line is super long and Becca says they have an odd, peanut butter-like spread in them that we're pretty sure I will not like. They head back to the apartment, and I decide to take myself to dinner. On a whim, I go back to the nameless restaurant we could/couldn't get a table at the night before. The same man tells me they're full, and the same nice woman sneaks me in to my own little table as long as I can be done in 45 minutes. I order their French fries with cheese, and it comes with mayonnaise for dipping. I get the smallest Diet Coke (Coke Light, in Iceland, and they taste strange). I'm happy.
Instead of descriptions, the menu has irreverent or existential snippets. I love it.
Hiding.
Serious about cat love.
Super excellent mural.
Super informative mural.
Three friends out for a stroll.
It's still early when I get back to my hostel. Reina, one of my dorm-mates, is talking to the woman above me (Tanya) and the woman next to me (Leslie) about a concert happening at a nearby hostel this evening. Our chain of hostels participate in a lights-out event once a month: they each have free games, concerts, or lectures from 8:30-9:30PM. The catch is that they turn off all non-emergency lights and wi-fi. You meet and listen and interact in candlelight, with no phone or laptop to distract you. These friendly strangers invite me along, so we walk to the concert together.
It's crowded and hot inside. There's no room to sit, and I feel anxious and cranky. Tanya, Reina, and I go outside to the balcony and look over the city. I've heard you have a good chance at seeing the northern lights from a lighthouse that's supposed to be about 2 miles from our hostel. The walk runs by the pier and then along the waterfront. We decide to try and find the lighthouse together, and start walking.
The view from the balcony.
We walked past my new favorite street.
We walk and talk, sharing stories about where we've come from and where we're going. Reina seems young and is very sweet. I think Tanya is more my age, and I like her because she wears punk rock shirts and has a sweater with skulls on it. Reina talks a lot, but it's bubbly, not annoying. They've both traveled a lot more than I have. I think they're both braver than I am, too. But they're willing to wander with me, trying to find this lighthouse for me. We walk for two miles before we call it quits and sit on a bench. We see clouds out over the bay, and Reina is so hopeful that they're the northern lights she keeps asking "do they look a little greener to you guys!?" every few minutes. We walk back as it starts to rain. We try to find an open grocery store on the way, and I'm again amazed and confused by the unusual selection. I'm exhausted when we make it back to the hostel, and I'm grateful for their kindness and spontaneous friendship.
Sign for a unisex bathroom at the hostel.
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