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.
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.
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).
- Went to the art exhibit showcasing Steina Vasulka, an Icelandic video artist, at both the National Gallery and the Reykjavík Art Museum.
- Went to a Reykjavík Poetics event but realized that poetry readings in Icelandic don’t exactly work for a monoglot.
- Finished season five of Slow Horses, which continues to be good.
- Set up voting for this year’s proposed new branches of the Moped Army.