Island


That's the name of this song.

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On Icelandic doctors

My friends and family here in Iceland were very enthusiastic about me going to the krabbameinsfélag for an exam. I was really impressed how easy it was to get an appointment--booked online even! And when I got there this afternoon, the efficiency continued: they have a well oiled operation in place there, all very organized with computers asking questions and keyed lockers to keep one's personal belongings in. Then when it came time to see the doctor, well, that lasted all of 2 minutes. And I paid 3420 kroner. So I was overall a little disappointed. When I mentioned to the front desk clerks that I was wondering if it was possible to actually get an appointment where I could speak to a doctor, I was given a variety of phone numbers. None of the ones I called had appointments within the next 6 weeks. In the United States, when I want a doctor's appointment, I can usually get it within a week of calling, though sometimes I have had to wait 10 days or so. The highest co-pay I hav...
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The sky weeps

For the last few days, the sky here in the San Francisco Bay has been filled with smoke, blown this way from a fire 100 miles away. At least 40 people died in that fire, a whole town destroyed, and many others missing. One reporter described the sky over the town as raining down ash. On this day, the 100 year anniversary of the end of World War I, the news in the US is filled with stories of the man who calls himself President, unwilling to step out into the rain to lay a wreath. Unwilling to partake in our communal, world wide weep. And I'm thinking about my trip to Iceland on Thursday, of the carbon dioxide the plane will be spewing into the sky. My third round trip from SF to Iceland this year, and I don't have anyway to make up for my carbon footprint. But in all honesty, I'm also wondering how bad the weather will be, if I'll have to be out braving wind and snow for the shot the documentary film maker wants, of me walking around outside. Will the landscape reme...
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Dett í, ofan á, úr, út

I´m not sure if someone had dett í (gotten drunk), or if það bara dett ofan á (it just sort of happened), or if some dett úr (forgot), but at any rate, my household goods dett út (have disappeared). Let's review the chronology here. Early August packers from the shipping company arrive at the apartment in Moraga. They load my 4 large plastic containers and 8 cardboard boxes, plus one baby crib, into their truck. I watch my things depart. In September, I ask the friendly girl (Magie is her name) if she happens to know when I might expect my stuff. Late September she tells me. I am most impressed. Extremely so. Mid October rolls around, and I have not gotten a call. And it occurs to me that I am going to be traveling through November. Hmm. So I call again. Well, yes, she tells me, looks like your shipment should arrive on the 31st of October. Now here I admit that maybe I was a little lacks. I had a lot to do before my trip, and so when they did not call me, I did not follow ...
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