As everyone knows, beginning of October is just the perfect time for some fancy camping in Iceland: The first snow is covering most of the country, you easily reach some minus temperatures in the night and the roads are in poor condition. Four of us took the opportunity and headed to the Westfjords with a ridicolously big, automatic Ford 4 wheel drive. Our contribution to climate change in numbers: 13 litres/100 km. As we had limited time, our 3-day holiday was the classic road trip in perfection: driving up and down approximately 50 fjords every day, we listened to the same CDs some 20 times, eating fast food and drinking coffee from time to time. As if driving snowcovered roads through snowcovered, glacially shaped volcanic layers in the most remote part of Iceland wouldn’t be enough, we actually had some touristic highlights planned. 1) bathing in a natural hot pot for at least for hours in Drangsnes, an almost abandoned town in the eastern westfjords. 2) bathing in a natural hot pot for at least for hours in Bránslaekur (where, btw, Iceland’s oldest fossils were found – you should be amazed! 2g4u). 3) Visit the westernmost part of Europe, Látrabjarg and do some kite flying there. We managed part 1) almost too successfully, so that a huge cat sat in my brain the next day trying to disembowel my brain. Part 2) was cancelled due to too cold water in the pool (less than 40 degrees is inacceptable.) The third mission was more or less accomplished again, even though the kite was freeing himself after 1/10s because of the little snowstorm which took place (Video will follow!). On our way home, we felt that we should listen to our CDs a couple of times more and made a detour to Surtshellir, the biggest lava caves in Iceland, located in an ancient lava flow (2km long, 700m deep).

See some pictures of the Westfjords, decorated with (more or less) fitting Icelandic music:

In front of this church on the way to Holmavík, Slash would most probably have had a great time playing guitar. The dramatic October Snow feeling could optionally be enhanced by the flickering motel light of the curch’s cross. This band would rather play on the graveyard in the neighbourhood: http://www.myspace.com/foraminorreflection

On the way to the hot pot: Picturesque roads plus frozen waterfalls and lava-burnt and -covered wood. www.myspace.com/mugison

The place to be: (almost) natural hot pots in Drangsnes. Some Icelandic raggae with it, for the true chillout experience? www.myspace.com/hjalmarmusic

Our pimp-car (icelandic hoes are in the moment sleeping in the trunk): http://www.myspace.com/mightyjukebox

The valley of Thingeyri – By taking these pictures I almost lost my fingers because of the clanking cold.

The westernmost part of Europe covered in snow. Maybe Creed would be a good choice, but this one also has rock-shot qualities: www.myspace.com/dikta

On the way back: Some good big band funk music too lift up the mood again! www.myspace.com/samminammi

Surtshellir with ice stalagmites – amazing and slippery. www.myspace.com/olafurarnalds

Back in Reykjavík, it was the Októberfest – finally back in “civilization”! Actually, they did a pretty good job pretending to be the real Wiesn. Maybe a little bit too good for my feeling. I played there a stunning gig with Lúðrasveit verkalýðsins, which is basically a communistic Musikverein (we played many of my favourite marches: Halt’s euch zamm, die fidelen Trompeter etc.) But this communist musikverein also plays other stuff: http://www.vimeo.com/3566584

In this sense: Hoch die Tassen! Hope you are all doing fine. Cheerio!

Yeah, Iceland is kind of remote. But still, people live there – and where the human race settles down, alcohol won’t be missing. Manuscripts reveal: 15th-century-Icelanders fancied beer – with pretty well-known, somehow modern consequences:

Thinking of this tradition, it’s hard to understand why there had been a 74-year long prohibition of beer (yeah, just of beer) in the 20th century which ended not longer than 20 years ago! The reasoning indeed was crude: Because beer is cheap, people would get alcoholics immediately when it was legal. But Icelanders were too smart for prohibition: Barkeepers started to mix vodka with light beer to create some kind of “normal” beer. The heads of state appraised the situation right and legalized beer on March 1st, 1989. Since then, this day is celebrated every year as bjórdagurinn, the “beerday”. May well be that being in Reykjavík on that day, you feel like in a 15th century manuscript.

Salut!

Time goes by quite quickly, and stuff just keeps happening. High time to find some rest, sort the multi-coloured fragments, pick out the sparkling ones and somehow knit a nice little story out of them. But be careful: Long text. Pictures below!

Certain things go along with my stay here and sweeten my time. Filtered coffee. Sulphur. Lamb, oh yeah. And wet clothes, of course. On Laugavegur I had plenty of them, and they’ve been with me also on the one-week field-trip throughout southern Iceland. We were around 50 Earth Science students from all over the ea..no, in fact half of us are German. Despite some refreshing exceptions, like people from New Zealand, Chile, Australia, Norway and Finland, it was one big German-speaker meeting. I was hoping for something different. Nevertheless, there are a bunch of nice people amongst them, and also a bunch of nice English accents. The first one to mention is without a doubt the accent of Ármann, our leading teacher. He is a cigarillo-smoking original, living the accent many of us would die to have. In his worrrld, a valley becomes a volley, volcanic ash is in fact volcanic ass and the tertiary is a real tortury.

During the first day of the field trip, the two teachers tried to keep up the illusion that we were o na “geological” field trip. On the second day then, things changed: we did a little boat tour on a glacial lake to take some photos and taste some glacial ice. On day three we watched a movie about the Laki Eruption 1783 which made us pretty clear that we will all die soon, killed by either volcanic ass, lava flows, toxic gases or by hunger (all our cattle will be dead and uneatable because of the toxic gases). If it won’t happen today, it will most propably be tomorrow. Inspired by this scientific movie, we drove three hours to Laki and took a group foto there. After that, we watched another craterthen our teachers became coffee-thirrrsty and we drove back. But the touristic climax was reached just on the last day. On our way to the Geysir Tourist Shop, which was the day’s highlight, we did several photo stops and checked out the regions cafeterias. But I won’t complain. We saw Southern Iceland, had a good time in the hot pots in Landmannalaugar, plus an excellent lamb barbecue. Given this, yelling for more geological facts is maybe a bit bizarre.

The day after the excursion, the “real” classes started. Which means first of all a week of partying with the all in all 300 exchange students. The beer was cheaper than in Germany; once more, the advantages of the financial crisis became crystal clear.

Another thing which accompanies my daily life here are the bells of Hallgrimskirkja, the biggest church in Reykjavík. My bed is located say 100m away from these bells. They ring every quarter hour for ca. 5 minutes, which makes an alarm clock practically unnecessary. Well, at least I can watch the church while showering! My room not only features a big alarm clock, but also two beds and a way to small door, which my head will probably know very well after the year here. Our Landady is pretty cool, so are my flatmates. 6 girls and one guy, all the girls – you may guess – German; the guy is a Norvegian. All in all, Lokastigur 24a seems to be a good place to stay, nevermind bells, doors and a Speedy Gonzalez-Internet-Connection which makes me long for the good old 56k-times.

I got used to two more things last week: Brennevín and exotic food. These were important factors during my 5-day-stay in Greenland. I was there with a New Zealandic girl who had to leave Iceland for a couple of days due to visa reasons no one quite understood, and a guy from Switzerland. We had a really splendid time, including camping, amazing geology, landscapes, icebergs, schnapps, an international airport in a 128-souls-town, “greenlandic” beer named Namminersornermi Nalliutorsiorneq (made out of and brewed by seals) to fuck up the stupid tourists hanging out there with too much money, a cop living la vida loca in the same international airport (I guess he has a really hard job there) and, of course: whale and seal blubber, which is, in fact, the fat of these fancy animals cut into cubes. Sounds disgusting? It is. But it can get worse: Dried whale is really a manifested nightmare, sticking between your teeth. I felt that this poor whale was bleeding to death once again in my mouth, and I had to suffer with it. Won’t do it again. Next time: Icelandic Horse!

(The last 5 pics ar from Landmannalaugar and Tourigeysir, the fucking amazing rest is Greenland.)

Yes, mates!

Thinking of Iceland in these days, one imagines people standing on the street, staring on any wall, silently shaking their head from time to time – the agony of the financial crash which captured the vulnerable Icelander’s soul and made every single day a slow-motion-fight against the empty and senseless life. Well, it’s not quite like that. Last Wednesday, the breaking news on TV was that Olafur “The Pig” Grimsson, Iceland’s Prime Minister, had been fallen of a horseback. Now that’s agony at its best.

People don’t seem to be too destroyed by this sick life: the SUVs are still cruising down Laugavegur, noble restaurants are packed, monumental, patriotic fireworks are celebrated during last Saturday’s culture night, and yes: they are laughing!

Ok, I don’t want to put lipstick on the pig:  there are very many construction sites where two or three people are pretending to work, just because it would be too expensive to stop the project. For example the ambitious project of a national music hall at the harbour, made of glass (thinking of Sydney?) and serving 5000 people. Extrapolating the current working velocity, it will be finished in 2200.

But in fact, I don’t sense a deep uncertainty or despair in Reykjavík. It’s just as it was when I was here in 2006.  Apart from the fact that everything costs the half.

If the financial crisis made you believe that this capitalist world is just crap, it’s maybe time to do a little walk in Icelandic nature. This is what I did (regardless of economy): a 6-day-walk from Skógar at the southern coast to Landmannalaugar, a geothermal spot with colourful rhyolite hills and 40°C hot rivers. The first three days were seulement terrible (in a positive sense), as the french people I was travelling with used to say most of the time. Ash desert, surrounded by glaciers, “forests” at the edge of huge glacial rivers, lava flow plains, more ash desert, moss-green mountains, elve lakes. Yes, terrible. But the next two days unfortunately didn’t bring as much pleasure. Strong winds coming from North counterparted our trip to the North, accompanied by a nice, steady rain which defeaned one’s face. I found it funny in a peculiar way. After one hour, I ceased finding it funny and started insulting the wind in a Bushido-like manner. It helped, indeed, and after 4 hours of hating, we arrived at the rescuing hut. Comments of the warden there: “Yes, it’s bad weather, but it’s not very bad weather”; “Haw, haw, haw, this is no storm, otherwise we wouldn’t let tourist walk the track!”. Well, ok, I never want to experience a real storm in the Icelandic Highlands!

Yes, hello my friends!

It’s summer in Germany, but in Iceland, the leaves of the “trees” are turning brown. The nights get longer. The rain pours down in a snowy way. Soon, the first ice bears will come back on some icebergs, returning from their summer sleep in Greenland. The sharks stop fermenting. The schnapps gets harder. Coffee stronger. Kronur weaker. World Trade Center boom.

Well, all in all, summer is most probably over in Iceland. Perfect moment for me to head to Reykjavík to get the best out of the Icelandic wintertime! At the University, okay, but who cares, rock n roll, botninn up! If you care about my progress in studying geology or my adventures in grài katurinn, this is the right place to check by from time to time! I will write, oh yes.

Cya!

Yo. It is only some money. Some money to convert trouble into some sparkling drinks right under the sunset of a midsummer day. Midsummer day? Music. Yes Yes Yes. While being sure vodka is poured in an ice-filled glas. Yes.

Trouble is a mere interpretation and yes, some interpretations turn out to be more shared than others – is Facebook an constructivistic medium? This is were the trouble begins. In fiction and fact. Cheers!

Yes. We considered it.  For a very long time. We talked. We created. We deconstructed. We enhanced. And then, finally, we just did it! And so, here it is:

The Herra Héri Orchestra – Squirrelish Intonations EP

Yeah, my friends! This very CD is the delicious fruit of more than two years of exploring the world of Herra Héri. Sometimes this world is pulsing orange, sometimes it is an explosion of light;  sometimes it is capricious and silent. Sometimes a flash of hope, sometimes stroboscopic – by any means, the world of Herra Héri finds it musical expression in the unity of bass, guitar, trombone and voice. In this sense, the Squirrelish Intonations EP captures the spirit of the many nights we spend together recording, drinking and flattering ourselves.

What I want to say with all these pathetic words is: The Squirrelish Intonations EP is one mighty piece of music! And if that wasn’t enough, the music is rolled up in a dazzling package of words, pictures and collages  (some people would call it “booklet”).

So, if you are interested in this marvellous piece of work created by the Herra Héri Orchestra, just contact me and open up for the amazing colourstreams!

It happens to everybody. Even the great Odysseus (some of you maybe remember his famous quest through the labyrinth (unnecessary to mention his fight with the evil and notorious Cyclop here)): Sometimes it is hard to maintain grip on live, to stay warm and nice with yourself having chats in front of the chimney with a nice Earl Grey and the friendly glowing warmth of coal.

No. Even Odysseus did not always welcome himself warmly to accomodate between his eyes. Sometimes (and very likely even often) he was probably also keen on giving himself a good discussion between his lobes (not to speak of the difficult situation concerning his language centres, which would then be obliged to mediate between speaking and understanding respectively).

Thinking of this, it might be good to know , that the labyrinth issue was finally solved by red wool. Something which has really nothing in common with any person but is (and surely was) produced by machines. Red Wool! Red Wool gives orientation in the windy paths of the labyrinth. You can imagine how happy O. was.

He opened the door and slipped in. Slowly. Yes – it was a damp evening in december and temperature just dropped vastly. It was cold. Very cold. He opened the door and slipped in. Slowly. Carefully. Yes – the sun was already gone, as was dawn. It was dark. Very dark. He opened the door and slipped in. Slowly. Carefully.Anxious. Yes – the air smelt of animal, the disgusting stench of fur and carnivoral transpiration. It was dangerous. Very dangerous. He opened the door and slipped in. Slowly. Carefully. Anxious but ambitous. The room was dark. It was cold. In the back of the room a cat was mournfully meouwing.  He could notice he was trapped – one moment before his rationality dissolved.

First of all: Obviously raining and laughing respectively not laughing are two things that are not necessarily connected. Sometimes even raining is the cause for tremendous outbursts of laughter, for example if it rains heavily and people just did their traditional rain dance before. What a joy that has to be can hardly be imagined by someone who never did rain dancing before (yes – I have to admit – this includes me).

However, it is also a fact that raining (drops of water crashing down on the ground) and laughing are two different things. In this respect the thesis claiming the above (namely that raining is not equal to laughing) holds – even though in quite superficial semantic way.

In other respects, I hereby mean something in a more contextual sense, raining may be a perfect symbol for not laughing. I mean: Imagine relaxing but feeling somehow unable to laugh (yes, these things happen) it may be a good thing if it rains outside. Consequently: Raining is not laughing. But: This conclusion raises another point for further discussion: Would consequently be sunshine laughing? And: How moody is the whether? What does mood do to the climate and: What does every individuals weather look like? Hm.