My exams are done and my papers are getting very close. The last few weeks have been a big push to wrap up the semester but it looks like I’m on track to finish before my brother comes to Iceland this week. I’m excited to have him visit!
I finished watching a four-part mini-series about the life of Vigdís Finnbogadóttir, the former Icelandic president, which is streaming on RÚV with English subtitles. The show, which shares production and acting credits with the excellent Blackport, was really well done — and I’m getting good about recognizing filming locations in Reykjavík. Elected in 1980, Vigdís was the world’s first female head of state and in Iceland she was the first single woman allowed to adopt a child. I enjoyed getting more of her backstory since I see references to her all over town. For example, my oral exam for my class in Iceland’s Foreign Policy was held in a building on campus called Veröld – House of Vigdís.
Last night I saw Júlía Mogensen perform at Mengi and got to see a halldorophone being played for the first time. It’s a unique electroacoustic instrument that looks like a cello but incorporates positive feedback into the process of playing. It’s the brainchild of Halldór Úlfarsson, who takes an iterative approach to design, incorporating feedback from musicians and evolving it over time. I’ve been really enjoying the album Electroacoustic Works For Halldorophone by Martina Bertoni lately, so it was great to see it being played and get a better sense for how it works.
Coincidentally, after writing about Ragnar Axelsson last week, his photos are featured in the latest issue of the New Yorker in a story that is at least partially about his experience visiting Ittoqqortoormiit in East Greenland over the last 30 years.
Also coincidental (given my paper topic), this podcast on the history of subsea cables popped up on NPR. It focuses on the first Atlantic telegraph cable crossing and includes interviews with the guy who runs the absolute treasure of a Web 1.0 site atlantic-cable.com.
This was the main study week for my Theories of International Relations exam. I did a deep dive on four theories and packed my days by re-reading and quizzing myself to try and keep all the nuances straight. I’m covering Realism, Liberalism, Marxism, and Normative IR — including all the sub-theories and critiques within each one. The overlapping terminology can be tricky, with maybe a dozen different meanings of the word “liberal,” a half dozen variations on “hegemony.” It’s maddening that the mix of authors I’m trying to keep straight include Walt, Waltz, Walzer, and Wallerstein.
Photos from Ragnar Axelsson’s current show at Qerndu gallery
I did get out to an opening at Qerndu gallery for Ragnar Axelsson’s latest photography exhibition: Human. The ten photos in the show were previously selected for the 2023 Prix Pictet photography award for global sustainability, and feature people from Greenland, Siberia, and Iceland. Ragnar’s work is primarily focused on documenting the changing Arctic, from melting glaciers to people’s lives and culture. His book Faces of the North, one of my favorites, combines candid photographs and portraits with short stories about each person. I wrote about it on my Looking North blog back in 2020. He’s one of my favorite photographers, so I was pretty excited for the chance to meet him and see his work at full scale.
Christmas Cat in downtown Reykjavík
With Christmas season approaching, the city of Reykjavík has put up some sculptures in the center of town depicting Icelandic Christmas folklore such as the Christmas Cat and Yule Lads. I’m familiar with the less-than-happy endings of most Icelandic novels and movies, so I shouldn’t be surprised — but these stories are dark! Christmas Cat lurks around the countryside and eats people who have not received new clothes to wear for Christmas Eve. Yule Lads are a gang of 13 mischievous pranksters who steal from or harass people in different ways. Their mother’s favorite food is a stew made of naughty children.
That said, the Yule Lads also seem pretty funny. They have names that translate to things like Door Slammer, Sausage Swiper, and Doorway Sniffer. My favorite — the one I would choose to play in some kind of Icelandic Christmas pagent — is Skyr Gobbler. He just really likes Icelandic yogurt.
Finally, here are a couple of photos I took recently where the sharp angle of the sunset created interesting illusions. In the first, a focused beam of warm light hits only a sliver of Mount Esja, making it look like the lights from a town are illuminating the base of the mountain.
The second is from the University of Iceland campus, where steam from the hot river is illuminated by sunset light compressed between an opening in the buildings. Combined with the almost black-and-white, frost-covered ground it looks like an explosion.
It was strange and delightful for my social feeds this week to be filled with aurora from all over the United States! It seems that many of you got a better show than what I typically see in Iceland. That same solar storm showed up here too, but unfortunately not until the middle of the night, so I missed it.
This was my last week of classes for the semester and now I’m in a bit of a crunch mode as I study for two exams and write two research papers. This led me to realize how long it’s been since I took a test, which then made me feel old. I had to take the GRE for my application to Carnegie Mellon, but that was 20 years ago and my Masters in Interaction Design was entirely project and thesis-based. Which means my last time taking a test for a class was at Western Michigan in the late ’90s.
I have two exams to prepare for, both of which are formats I’ve never experienced before. My Theories of International Relations class is a 3-hour, closed book, essay-driven exam — four questions, four essays. Whereas my class on Iceland’s Foreign Policy is an oral exam, where I’ll pick a topic out of a hat and speak on it for 15 minutes. My class on Leadership in Small States had writing assignments every week, which were compiled and handed in instead of an exam.
The research papers are for my Arctic classes. Each are 5,000 words and framed around questions of my own choosing:
Introduction to Arctic Studies: What does the controversy over drilling in Alaska’s Arctic National Wildlife Refuge reveal about competing American visions of the Arctic?
I shouldn’t be surprised, but this week I saw that Russ Vought has a new tactic to shutter the CFPB for good. It’s based on a bad-faith reading of the language in the Dodd-Frank Act that describes how the agency should be funded. The language in question directs the CFPB budget to come from the “combined earnings of the Federal Reserve System,” and Vought wants to interpret earnings to mean “profit” instead of “revenue.” They see this as some kind of genius move where they can redefine these terms and — proof! — CFPB has no budget and has to shut down, without Congressional approval. It’s not a new idea, they tried to kill the CFPB in 2024 with the same tactic. But back then the Bureau could fight back, whereas now it’s a self-inflicted blow by a criminal executive intent on destroying anything that actually helps people.
I know that CFPB is already effectively dead; every one of my colleagues has been fired or retired. But still, maintaining even the shell of an agency might have helped it come back to life under a new administration. Almost every week I read an article about some issue where people are hurting, that mentions how there’s nobody left to help now that the CFPB has been shuttered. Most recently it was this story in Bloomberg about zombie second mortgages, a topic that was getting a lot of scrutiny last year at CFPB.
I finally got to walk on a glacier. I’ve seen them from a distance when hiking alongside their imposing presence on the Laugavegur trail, and up close on a boat to the calving front in the Jökulsárlón glacial lagoon. I have memories of a planned glacier walk in Alaska that was scrapped when I was twelve years old, visiting my Aunt Debi with my grandparents, but that was too long ago to even remember the circumstances. This week I finally got on top of (and even inside!) the glacier Sólheimajökull, an outlet of the the larger Mýrdalsjökull ice dome sitting atop the Katla volcano.
Sólheimajökull terminusIcebergs reflecting in the glacial lagoon
Sólheimajökull is probably the most accessible glacier in Iceland, which is why I was able to visit it on a day-trip from Reykjavík. It’s a skinny, 12 km long valley, that terminates in a glacial lagoon that wasn’t even there in 2009, but grows 50 meters larger ever year as the glacier retreats due to rapid melting since the turn of the century. There is a timelapse video on Vimeo that captures the change from 2007 to 2018, and the Glacier Change website has numerous slide-over comparison photos, the most dramatic of which compares photographs from 1930 and 2023. My guide thought there may be only a couple more years where it will be possible to access the ice from easy approach we took, as the front pulls away into the valley.
The surface of Sólheimajökull is partly covered by black volcanic ash from the nearby Katla volcano, which hasn’t had a major eruption since 1918. Thin layers of ash can accelerate the melting of of the ice, since the darkened surface lowers reflectivity and increases heat absorption. But if the layer of ash is thick enough it can actually slow melting by acting as an insulating blanket.
Ash covering on the Sólheimajökull glacier
Once you get past the lagoon and actually up glacier the thickness of the ice becomes more obvious. What isn’t apparent when looking at the lagoon is that it’s 60 meters deep, which as our guide pointed out is nearly the height of the Hallgrímskirkja church in Reykjavík. That’s why exploring a glacier requires caution, because that surface is full of crevasses, which are cracks, but also moulins, which are formed by flowing water and can create drop offs all the way to the bottom. A glacier is not solid ice, there is always water melting and flowing within it.
The tour I took was not just walking on the glacier, but ice climbing into the glacier, and the photos above show the moulin that our guide identified for us to climb. The second shot, leaning over the edge, I took while attached to an anchored tether that hooked on to a harness. I would not want to lean over this edge otherwise, as a slip and fall would have been disastrous — I couldn’t see the bottom.
The crampons you wear for ice climbing are a little different than I was used to, mainly the addition of spikes near the toes, as it requires kicking the ice wall hard enough to stick and support your weight as you reach up and secure your next position.
Our guide identified a “blue ice” spot that was strong enough to anchor the rope, which could supposedly support up to 1,000 pounds. You strap the rope to your harness and then essentially just walk backwards over the edge of the moulin, walking down the ice wall with the tension of the rope supporting you. Then, once you’ve gone as deep as you’d like, you turn vertical and stab your feet into the ice to begin climbing out.
Making my way upAlmost to the top
Ice climbing was a lot of fun, and much easier once I got my technique down and stopped trying to pull myself up from the ice axes. Ideally you are stuck to the wall by your toes, and only use the axes to balance and take the next step up. Our guide was a Frenchman named Steve who was very patient with climbing newbies and apparently quite the adventurer himself. He’s planning a solo, 550 km unsupported ski trip across Greenland next year. I have photosets on Instagram of the glacier and a separate one for ice climbing. if you want to see more photos.
I would highly recommend this day-trip through Arctic Adventures for anyone who is interested. The transport option from Reyjavík also includes stops at the Skógafoss and Seljalandsfoss waterfalls, the latter of which is skipped later in the winter due to lack of daylight. But luckily for me, I got the opportunity to walk behind the falls as the sun was setting.
Behind Seljalandsfoss at sunset
The other big event this week was Iceland Airwaves, a 3-day music festival that grows to fill the whole week with numerous off-venue events and takes over the entire downtown area. I had a festival pass, and saw a least a dozen acts over four days. All of the venues are within walking distance, so it’s easy to check out a performance and decide to move on midway through if you’re not feeling it. In general it was a little too heavy on the dance/club side of things, but there was huge diversity with folk, hip-hop, neo-classical, rock, and electronic in the mix. Some of the acts I wanted to see simply went on too late for this middle-aged man, and jam-packed venues are less fun once it gets past drunk o’clock — but overall it was a fun experience.
A recent survey noted that the Icelandic sheep population has dropped by 100,000 in the past ten years, leaving only 350,000 sheep in Iceland. That means that today is the first time there has ever been more people than sheep in Iceland.
The USD/ISK exchange rate is still bumpy but is finally creeping back up. It reached its nadir right as I moved here, so any improvement is welcome from my perspective.
Finished watching season 3 of The Diplomat, which is no Borgen, but continues to hold up pretty well as a US political drama. Given that it’s been part of my studies I was delighted to see the United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea show up as a plot element.
Distance can be measured in many ways — the most obvious being time or space — and I’ve always been fascinated by how those two ideas are intertwined: a light-year away, a ten-minute walk, the future is in front of us. After all, a GPS satellite is essentially a floating atomic clock; its coordinates, without the exact time they were transmitted, would be meaningless. Anyway, Iceland hasn’t observed Daylight Saving Time since 1968, so while I still live in Reykjavík, I’m now an hour further away.
Mt. Esja covered in snow
Last week I said that winter had arrived, but this week it really showed off. On Tuesday, the first snowfall in Reykjavík set records for October, reaching a depth never before recorded this early in the season. It was a chance to break out the winter gear that took up so much space in my suitcase last July, and I had a blast wandering around in the blizzard. Near the harbor, it was crazy to see boats still out on the water, their lights disappearing just a few meters into the fog and snowfall — I wouldn’t want to be onboard. I had to keep my camera in a dry bag in-between shots; the snowflakes were so wet and fluffy, perfect for making snowmen. The day after, it was cool to see that the Reykjavík Grapevine published some of my photos that I sent in when they called for reader submissions.
A snow covered lane near the Danish embassy.In the days afterwards you really had to watch out for slow falling off roofs.Harpa in the snow.
I’ve been wondering about winter in Iceland, and how things might compare to the US, given that I’ve lived in snowy places like Chicago, Minneapolis, and Michigan. Setting aside the early arrival, the amount of snow was similar to storms you’d expect multiple times a year in any of those places. So far, I would rate snow removal as better in the US, at least in terms of pedestrian spaces. There doesn’t seem to be an expectation that homeowners and businesses clear the sidewalks. I’ve seen few people shoveling, and little evidence of salting. There are some heated sidewalks, using geothermal heating, but it’s not widespread.
The key factor that makes Icelandic winters tougher is wind — gale force winds combined with icy roads make for risky driving. But one thing Iceland does really well is track realtime info on road conditions throughout the country, with color coded road segments, wind speed, and traffic cams. There are also regional color codings (yellow, orange, red) that provide a more general warning. I’d seen yellow warnings before, but Wednesday was my first orange warning, which basically means “don’t travel” and led to most businesses closing early.
The day after the snowstorm was a perfectly clear night and the northern lights came out strong. I felt lucky to capture this image of the aurora dancing around the Imagine Peace Tower.
Noted & Done
Settled on topics for the two Arctic papers I need to write over the next month (more on that later).
