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.
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