Consuming Rudolph.

Tonight, I had the most amazing night of my time in Iceland, ever. It's almost depressing in the sense that I can't imagine anything greater than the dinner conversation we enjoyed tonight.

Josh mentioned that I had been invited to dinner with some Canadian expats, at an Iceland hockey player's house.

Little did I know, the 'hockey player's house' was the captain of the national team, Ingvar. His best friend, and another national team player, Siggy, was the host, along with his wife, Gudrun. Ingvar and Siggy happen to play for Skautafelag Akureyrar, and Ingvar might be my D-partner this season. The Canadian equivalent, would be eating at Jarome Iginla's house, with Sidney Crosby (Siggy) as the guy passing you the sweet potatoes and, get this, reindeer. Yes, I have a new favourite meat. Gudrun mentioned that the particular reindeer we were eating was a one year-old male, shot without a permit by her brother in the eastern fjords of Iceland. She also served coconut ice-cream and raspberry puree for dessert.

Dinner lasted four and a half hours, from 8pm-12:30 am. Brennivin was consumed. Further information on this semi-dangerous substance is available on everybody's favourite website, here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brenniv%C3%ADn

Anyhow, Siggy and Guga are awesome. It would have seemed odd to take pictures of the proceedings, but I took them when it seemed socially acceptable. Here are some:

A painting hung in the house. The black figures are people. I would trade a kidney for this painting.

For those with a discerning eye, the napkins are plays on the traditional Icelandic sweater, the lopapeysa, or "lopi".

Monsters in Akureyri.

It is nice to know that these little guys are universal. Friendly monsters.

Travel Mistake #1: Beware the 'mjolk'.

Faced with the traditional array of choices of milk at the grocery store, I waited to see which was most popular. There was only two of the green "AB" left, and a crafty old lady took the second-last carton. Being what I thought was a 'quick thinker', I figured I'd best snag the last one.

Upon arriving home, I was dismayed by the smell coming out...plus the contents were thicker than sour cream. What had this lady bought?

Josh confirmed they sell 'sour milk' here.
I told him, with pride, that I got the last carton.
I am now off, tail between legs, to find a decent place to dispose of it. Too thick to pour down the drain.

Interesting cultural note: they put names on doors here. Every resident is listed. My official landlord is 'Siggy Sigurdsson'. "No paperwork", he said. "No problem," I responded.

Within minutes of arriving at the house, my name was placed below Josh's. Perhaps there's some archaic rule about having everyone listed?

This, for the record, is the milk I should have bought.

Icelandic Word of the Day: Heilhveitihorn.

Yes, a 'heilhveitihorn' is a croissant. Long winded, but it works.

They cost 130 ISK here, or approx. $1.10. Not bad.

Akureyri 600.

Postal codes are big here. Reykjavik 101, Akureyri 600...I suppose it tells a person what you might be like, given regional stereotypes & such.

This is a picture of the youngest commuter on our plane today.

This is a picture of the plane to Akureyri.

Just kidding!

This is it, a Fokker 50. First propeller plane I've ever been on.

My room with a view.

The local neighbourhood I am staying in.

This is Josh's room. I don't have much in mine yet, hence, no picture!

A cool plane hanging at the City Airport in Reykjavik. There was no security there. Pretty neat to just walk out on the runway & go from there. They don't even start accepting luggage until 30 minutes before the flight. A person could literally arrive ten minutes before departure and get on the plane without a problem. Delightful!

Reykjavik...105.

Greetings from the old laundry washing neighbourhood in Reykjavik.
This is some tasty plokkfiskur (mashed fish), which I stumbled upon after the morning visit to the pool. At 1290 ISK, it is about the cheapest meal one can hope to get at a restaurant.

An Icelandic breakfast/my food basket at the hostel.

Yesterday's hot dog consumption count: 3

This is the hot dog cart that Bill Clinton ate at. I proved a bartender wrong, as he thought it would be closed at my desired dining hour: midnight. Wrong he was!

This is a game the bartender at Prikid showed me. I asked what the rules were, and he said 'none, it's just to make a nice design'.

So no 'winning' then.

I tried to make my pieces not have any of the same colours touching.

We all had a go.

I am not sure what is being sold here, but I believe it's pantyhose.

A record shop I didn't get to visit due to the late hour. Next time.

The little white house where Mikhail Gorbachev & Ronald Reagan met in 1986 to try to end that whole Cold War thing.

At 232.7 ISK, this makes gas about $1.95/litre.

Agætis byrjun (a good beginning)

These little guys were in the window of a design shop I passed by earlier today.

On a lengthy walk in search of fish & chips, I passed by a blacksmith's shop, and he invited me in for coffee with two of his pals. Turns out, they're all from Akureyri, which was insta-cred for me. This wall was from next to the blacksmith's shop. This interaction was the highlight of my day.

Earlier, pictures of The Plane.

Sadly, it was no different from a regular commercial airplane.

Jean-Daniel showed me a pretty awesome time in Winnipeg yesterday. Bought me a Jets shirt, and lunch, and made two airport runs for me. Stellar guy.