Although I had planned to stay in the farm for a month, I leave after two weeks.
The atmosphere was a bit tense and options to speak Icelandic rather slim.
The farmer is not happy with his life. Recent divorce still scratches the memory. Market rules and finances are tight and it secures a bad mood. Without an argument there can be no conversation and an argument has to be a personally attacking one. Insult is a joke. When he lets all that drop for a while then it is possible to discuss life in Iceland and world matters nicely. We leave as friends and I get with me a bagful of pastry and invitation to step by.
We might meet with Mari and Claire in Alaska. Who knows.
Outside is the usual Icelandic landscape. Grey cloud on dark blue sky, in foreground yellow straw shivering in the wind, green moss and horses in different color, here and there a random waterfall. I drive back to Húsafell to do nothing for a few days and to pay for my previous stay there. The card machine did not work and I never got the IBAN number for online transfer.
Some workers are staying in the guesthouse so I get to stay in the small summerhouse nearby. Sæmundur takes no money for people staying there. He packs everything from the fridge into a box so the workers would have more space. This box is brought with me to the summerhouse together with a pot of soup and self-made bread. I should have not gone shopping. The fridge in the summerhouse is also not empty. Throwing away an open package of bacon from August takes a whole day.