I pack up. It's raining outside.
Dive to Harpa to be there at half past
nine. Harpa is Reykjavik's super-concert-house that was finished after
some kickbacks in 2011. Something in the style that after banking crisis
some social projects were cancelled because of this. Faced with the
fear that the house will be left standing empty. This did not happen,
all kinds of events are going on here all the time. Tickets to morning
exercise of Icelandic symphony orchestra are sold among other things. It
is a place where tourists can quietly sneak onto balcony in glacier
outfit. Tui's husband Páll said that tourists only dress decently in
Reykjavik during Iceland Airwave festival.
The hall is angular and red from inside, the light above the orchestra creates somehow ominous feeling. Musicians in colorful attire walk to and fro and create musical cacophony by plucking on their instruments. Soon the conductor arrives and they play some concert I'm not familiar with. At first in full and then parts from here and there. Communication is in English. Pleased with the concert they roll out a piano and practise a piano concert the same way. Musicians applaud to the piano player.
A brief stop to check on internet and find out that Hildur is still sick and our timetables still don't match with Tinna. Too bad. I leave the souvenir candy box on the table for Anna Maria to make my life easier and carry my bag to the hotel. The next nine days I'll spend in a group.
It is difficult to explain now why I decided to get involved with a group travel affair. The purpose wasn't to make an antrophological survey although the possibility for this without a doubt will present itself. The Dutch, unlike Icelanders, are not afraid of data protection and sent the list of passangers to everyone a long time ago. Everybody else is either from US, UK, Canada, Australia or New Zealand. Especially from New Zealand. All this does not seem like a good idea anymore. Google says that a fictional character from a British soap opera, a mushroom and an ancient American poet belong to the group. We'll see.
In addition it looks like group travel is extremely costly activity. How can people afford this? For the price of these 9 days I could hang around in South East Asia for at least two months or have a one month luxury trip in Southern Europe. Iceland is of course an unreasonably expensive country but still.
In the hotel they don't find my name but it sounds familiar to the girl behind the counter. I leave my bag in the locker room, the staff to solve the mystery and run through heavy rain to the national gallery. It's small and cool. In addition to local art there's a 3D portrait of Picasso's wife that was given by the model as a gift to the first female president in the world, Vigdis Finnbogadóttir, who was just friendly with her. It was a bit of a hassle to get the thing our of France.
The weather hasn't improved, it rains some kind of slum. I go to see the basement of the first known house of Reykjavik which is surrounded by the history of the early settlement. Everything is very interactive. In another room there are a few sagas and even I am capable to read some words of these old texts. These texts are important for the linguistic self-determination of whole Scandinavia and when the one-time-rulers of Iceland, the Danes, finally gave them back to Icelanders then a huge crowd was greeting the ship in the harbour. Interesting, what would happen in Estonia if the chain of office of the president and the properties of Tartu University would be returned?
Sun has come out. I wander along the main shopping street where all tourists go, only I haven't had the time yet. But I don't want to buy anything. Thick snow starts to fall. I hide in a café.
The hotel has found me and has a room. They are a bit unrational in programming the keys but no hurry.
The collective dinner passes painlessly. 13 sleek westerners seem to be okay after two beers although they move extremly slowly on the street and are mostly not fit. I'm also the youngest without a doubt.
The hall is angular and red from inside, the light above the orchestra creates somehow ominous feeling. Musicians in colorful attire walk to and fro and create musical cacophony by plucking on their instruments. Soon the conductor arrives and they play some concert I'm not familiar with. At first in full and then parts from here and there. Communication is in English. Pleased with the concert they roll out a piano and practise a piano concert the same way. Musicians applaud to the piano player.
A brief stop to check on internet and find out that Hildur is still sick and our timetables still don't match with Tinna. Too bad. I leave the souvenir candy box on the table for Anna Maria to make my life easier and carry my bag to the hotel. The next nine days I'll spend in a group.
It is difficult to explain now why I decided to get involved with a group travel affair. The purpose wasn't to make an antrophological survey although the possibility for this without a doubt will present itself. The Dutch, unlike Icelanders, are not afraid of data protection and sent the list of passangers to everyone a long time ago. Everybody else is either from US, UK, Canada, Australia or New Zealand. Especially from New Zealand. All this does not seem like a good idea anymore. Google says that a fictional character from a British soap opera, a mushroom and an ancient American poet belong to the group. We'll see.
In addition it looks like group travel is extremely costly activity. How can people afford this? For the price of these 9 days I could hang around in South East Asia for at least two months or have a one month luxury trip in Southern Europe. Iceland is of course an unreasonably expensive country but still.
In the hotel they don't find my name but it sounds familiar to the girl behind the counter. I leave my bag in the locker room, the staff to solve the mystery and run through heavy rain to the national gallery. It's small and cool. In addition to local art there's a 3D portrait of Picasso's wife that was given by the model as a gift to the first female president in the world, Vigdis Finnbogadóttir, who was just friendly with her. It was a bit of a hassle to get the thing our of France.
The weather hasn't improved, it rains some kind of slum. I go to see the basement of the first known house of Reykjavik which is surrounded by the history of the early settlement. Everything is very interactive. In another room there are a few sagas and even I am capable to read some words of these old texts. These texts are important for the linguistic self-determination of whole Scandinavia and when the one-time-rulers of Iceland, the Danes, finally gave them back to Icelanders then a huge crowd was greeting the ship in the harbour. Interesting, what would happen in Estonia if the chain of office of the president and the properties of Tartu University would be returned?
Sun has come out. I wander along the main shopping street where all tourists go, only I haven't had the time yet. But I don't want to buy anything. Thick snow starts to fall. I hide in a café.
The hotel has found me and has a room. They are a bit unrational in programming the keys but no hurry.
The collective dinner passes painlessly. 13 sleek westerners seem to be okay after two beers although they move extremly slowly on the street and are mostly not fit. I'm also the youngest without a doubt.
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