Ólafur Hreinn

Last night several of my first cousins, their kids, and my aunt went over to my uncle's house. It was his birthday. Uncle Óli is the youngest of my mother's siblings, and was until recently a bit of a lonely bachelor, living in my grandparent's house alone after they passed away. He has worked in the same fish factory in Grindavík for a good 20 years, perhaps longer. Recently, one of the ladies he works with, a short, plump Thai lady named Leung, has moved in with him. 

Many Icelanders celebrate big birthdays with formal parties, rent out a hall and have catered food. But even without the recession, this would not have been something one would do for Óli. He does not like crowds. 

But still we wanted to do something. So we decided we would all just show up with some food and presents on his birthday, just us. 

I do not usually babble on in my blog about these sorts of things, unless it sheds some light on Icelandic culture. I am rather sure this was outside of the cultural norm. And yet it was just perfect for Óli. 

There were a few things about it that perhaps would not have happened exactly that way in California. For instance, the present me and one of my cousins got him, it was an Arsenal jersey, and indeed the Icelandic obsession with English soccer is still a bit beyond my comprehension. But he really loved it, especially since my cousin's husband, who bought it while working in London, had them put the name Oli across the back and the numbers 60. I cannot tell you how much he was beaming about it.

That my uncle has hooked up with a lady from Thailand is perhaps also specifically Icelandic (in California the equivalent would be someone from South America, I would think). There is a sizeable group of Thai immigrants working in the fishing industry here in Iceland, and actually a friend of mine is writing her PhD on their experience. So I had anticipated being anthropologically interested in this woman who has moved in with my uncle. But actually, my intellectual response to her quickly faded, as soon as I saw her friendly smile. The why of why she was here was less important, and in fact it almost seems fate intended for her to be here in Iceland to keep my uncle company. Because you see she fits exactly into the old pair of pants from my grandmother that were still in the house. It is so great for all of us to see another short, sweet, happy lady in that kitchen.