A very calm…dead calm…day yesterday followed by a covering of snow during the night. We’re in the midst of Lent, but you would never know it, given the secular nature of society (Icelandic or otherwise). To keep the value of this season alive you must rely upon two things: memory in the sense of anamnesis and commonality of sentiment. By that I mean people who share the same anamnesis.

Early this morning I had taken a quick drink of water...so good here in Iceland that it should be exported (and is)...and ended up with a mouthful of sulfur tasting stuff. I.e., a few minutes before I had on the hot water tap. The hot water is exactly that, scalding hot, and has the minutest content of sulfur, enough to give a strong taste but supposedly therapeutic when taking a bath or shower.

Fridays at work often can be a bit trying, and yesterday was no exception. A touch of the flu has been making its rounds, hence short of help. While many at the post can leave their work at the right time, I in the foreign post must bring my work to a close, else it won’t go out. So there’s that added pressure of not running into problems which rarely if ever happen. Still, the sense of urgency is there compounded by the fact that it’s Friday evening. As for the partying, not everyone subscribes to this. However, Icelanders are known for their wild celebrations over the weekend, a constant marvel to foreigners. This has been going on since time immemorial, and I spoke about it at some length in last year’s blog. I’ve been downtown to see it but not impressed, really.