"Harpa, Húsið þitt"

This is the slogan on the publicity materials about Harpa, the beautiful, recently opened concert hall in Reykjavík. It reflects the hope of the designers that Icelanders will see it as "your house"--which it is, since the financing of the building was taken over by the public after the financial crisis. The building of course was controversial in the wake of the crisis, given the expense of such a project. But the artist, Ólafur Elíasson, expressed his hope that the building be seen as belonging to the Icelandic people in a recent extended and very interesting interview with the English language newspaper The Grapevine.  It is a slogan that our two year old has taken to heart; whenever we are downtown, he has expressed his desire to "Harpa, go!"


Like everyone in Reykjavík, we have been watching the construction of Harpa since our arrival in January.  Of course the structure by then was basically completed, though this spring we have had the additional excitement of the facade needing replacement (on which, see the Grapevine story noted above). Harpa construction has had everything that a two year old could want: cranes! diggers! dump trucks!  And so we have been frequent visitors to the exterior of the Harpa building site, even before the building opened in May.  

January 2011 viewed from Arnarhóll

January 2011

March 8, 2011

May 1, 2011.  Yes, that is snow on the ground.
We were sledding on the hill.

We have now been to two lovely concerts, one in Eldborg, the main hall, and one in Kaldalón.  And we have been in the building many more times; it has wide hallways with fun places to sit, it has a great view of the harbor, the light is wonderful, always changing, and it has escalators!

Riding the escalator June 16.

May 13, 2011

May 13 2011.

The first concerts were May 4th through 6th, and the official inaugural concerts were the next weekend, May 13th through 15th.  On May 6, right after a concert, my husband visited the building, and the security guards let him look around, no problem.  But on May 13th, a few hours before the official inaugural concert, we tried to visit and were turned away at the door by security.  Evidently there was heightened security since some rather unpopular people including the original financier behind Harpa, which entity failed as a result of the financial crisis, were going to be present at the concert, according to this post on the Iceland Weather Report.  We still enjoyed looking around the outside of the building, though it was a bit disconcerting that there were so many heavy machines still doing their work.

The west side with a view of the boats.

But since then, we have been in the building and enjoyed its beauty and light, and the continuing presence of construction equipment, many times.  Yesterday, during Iceland's national independence day celebrations (Þjóðhátíðardagur), we were among the many people who went into the building just to see it and enjoy it. Feeling a part of the process of Harpa opening has been a lovely part of our experience here. So we hope the space and all that it will be as people enjoy it over time truly comes to be seen as the house that belongs to all of the people of Iceland.

Looking up from near the first floor stairway.

There are places to splash out front!

It must be Þjóðhátíðardagur
 if there are antique cars.

Nice places to relax in the
midst of celebrating June 17. 

The cafe has a children's table, of course.

And there is still plenty of construction equipment to see.

Snow and Ash

We had planned to do the "ring road" tour in May, continuing on from Vopnafjörður to Egilsstaðir, on to Höfn and the famous Jökulsárlón (glacier lagoon) and then to Kirkubæjarklaustur to see the basalt formations.  But the weather was terrible the day we were scheduled to leave Vopnafjörður, and there was so much snow on the mountain road by the time that we were leaving that there was no way we could leave that direction.  


So, after a bit too much excitement, sliding around in the snow on a steep hillside, we turned around and returned to my cousin's house to regroup and find an alternative way.  My brother and his wife needed to rearrange their flights; we just needed to reorganize our plans.  With the help of my cousin and her husband, who kindly led the way, making tracks in the snow and ice with their four wheel drive vehicle, we managed to take the coastal road (85) north from Vopnafjörður and on west, eventually to Akureyri and, for us, home a day earlier than we had planned after making some lemonade with our changed plans, by visiting Hofsos and Holar.  And it was good that we headed out that day; the roads were closed for several days after that due to this late May snow storm.


We were scheduled to be in Kirkubæjarklaustur on Saturday, May 21, staying at a farm near the town.  But by that evening, we were hearing on the news that the Grimsvötn volcano was erupting.  By Sunday afternoon, Grimsvötn was spewing much more ash than usual, and the roads near Kirkubæjarklaustur were closed as the ash was causing a complete blackout.  Airports in Iceland were closed.  But fortunately, because of the snow in the northeast, we were not there!


The international press tends to cover stories about volcanos as they affect international audiences--especially air travel.  But of course that is not the only effect.  Both last year, with Eyjafjallajökull, and this year, with Grimsvötn, the volcanoes erupted during peak lambing season in April and May.  Most Icelandic farmers do not have space in their barns for the ewes and their lambs (most ewes have twins), and the sheep are put outside during lambing season and for the summer.  So in both cases, it was the worst time of year for the farmers who are downwind of the volcano ash.  The Iceland Review did a good story about the volcano last year and its effects on farmers; the Grapevine has a great story in its current (June 2011) issue on the Grimsvötn volcano. 

We still wanted to get to Höfn, Jökulsárlón and Kirkubæjarklaustur, and so we traveled this last week across the south.  And we encountered some blowing ash during part of the drive each day, in the area south of Grimsvötn, depending on wind speed and direction.   I should point out that most of the time the air was clear, and this is not what most of the south looks like most of the time!  My main point is that Icelanders are living with the effects of the volcano long after the rest of the world has lost interest.  There are several large fields south of the Eyjafjallajökull area with ash collected from last year's eruption, including some of the hay that was ruined by the ash.

We saw many beautiful places and enjoyed the journeying, and found the blowing ash interesting, annoying, and not something to experience outside of a house or vehicle.  But we don't have to live with blowing ash; we just had to put up with it for a few days.  Of course, Grimsvötn has stopped erupting and eventually the ash will have blown enough or been soaked by moisture enough to stop blowing.  But even the the volcano is no longer erupting, its effects are still present.

 The wonderful glacier lagoon; the ash on top
of the ice is from the most recent eruption.

Ash on the ground and on the snow, east of Skaftafell.

Driving west on June 9, early evening, east of Kirkubaejarklaustur.

Lava Hill

We spent much of May traveling, including travels with family. One much anticipated part of the trip was a visit to Vopnafjörður, to visit my cousin who lives there, and to see the farm where my grandfather was born, that my great-grandparents farmed in the late nineteenth century.  The farm is called Hraunfell (pronounced, roughly, kroyn-fetl), which means "lava hill".  It has not been lived on or farmed since the late 1940s; my great-grandparents farmed it for just four years or so before leaving for North America.

The farm is along the highlands above the Sunnudalsá river (which flows into the Hofsá), and there is no road to get to it.  So to get there, we drove to the last farm that is still inhabited, drove through their sheep pasture (they are friends of my cousin and we had permission!) and then hiked for about an hour up the river valley to the farm.  The farm is marked on this map, near the center of the map in the lower left quadrant; it is very near Bustarfell, which is a well-preserved sod farmhouse, and now  museum.

It is a beautiful place, in the river valley, with the Smjörfjöll (Butter mountains) on the other side of the river.  Unfortunately, in our three days in Vopnafjörður, we did not see the mountains at all, as it was foggy, and then raining, sleeting, and then snowing the entire time we were there!  So the day we hiked up to Hraunfell, it was cold and wet.  But it was also beautiful.

On the way up, we encountered sheep and horses, of course, but also lots of birds including geese that were nesting.  Here is one nest with several eggs, and below you can see where it was above the river.  It was mid-May, so prime nesting season regardless of the weather.  

The river is also beautiful, and there are falls and smaller tributaries flowing in all along the valley; we crossed many small streams on our way up.

About halfway up, my cousin's cell phone rang.  And it turned out that it was a staff person from the university, looking for me, for my make-up examination that was to be given the next day.  And here we need to digress to explain an administrative difference between the U.S. and Iceland.  In the U.S., professors proctor their own exams, and if a student is sick or for some reason cannot make it to the final examination (or any examination) they must notify the professor to make whatever arrangements the professor is willing to make. In Iceland, final examinations are proctored by non-faculty, and the entire process is managed by the university.  If a student is ill and cannot make it to an examination, the registrar's office is notified.  The professor may never hear from the student, as in my case.  So although I knew some students had missed the examination, I did not know that they had formally indicated to the university that they were ill, and wanted to take a make up exam.  At any rate, modern technology being what it is, I was able to send a make up exam that evening, so that all ended well.

So the University of Iceland has now found me in probably the most remote place that I have been found by a university.  But here is a another point of difference with the U.S.: it is highly unlikely that there would be cell phone service in a place like Hraunfell!  So Iceland's good cell phone coverage made this little bit of incongruity possible.

So, after our brief interlude on the cell phone, we continued our hike, and eventually made it up in the sleet and rain to the farm.  My great-grandparents would have lived in a  sod structure; the stone foundation of it is still there and some of the sod, so you can see where it would have been.  Later families added a wood frame, stone, and partially concrete house, next to the sod house, and there were also some remains of concrete in the barn though its foundation was primarily of stone and sod up until the 1940s.

It was wonderful to finally see this place.  When it was inhabited, Hraunfell was the last farm along this valley, but there had been farms along our hiking path.  So there would have been neighbors and perhaps it would not have felt as isolated as it seems now. Still, my great-grandparents, with their two young sons, felt that their future would be better in America when the left in 1893.  They were among thousands who left from that area in the late 19th century; you can find out a great deal more about emigration from the northeast part of Iceland at the East Iceland Emigration Center website.  And there has been an effort to provide information on how to hike to some of the highland farms in a nearby part of the Vopnafjörður area, which you can find here.

I would love to go back up to Hraunfell on a summer day when you can see the mountains.  But despite the weather, and the mid-hike phone call, I am glad we made it up to where my grandfather was born.

This is what remains of the barn.

Here is a photo of the sod sheep enclosure fence.

This is the sod house, straight ahead,
with the newer house to the right.

A closer view of the sod house.

What you see now, approaching the house;
the sod portion is back to the left and behind.

A view from the side with the sod house on the left
and the newer house behind it and to the right.

A closer view of the stones and sod that were the walls.

Here is a view from inside the newer house to the sod house behind.