July 31, 2010
þjoðjatið Festival -- Day 1
This festival takes place on Heimaey, the largest of the Westman Islands, which are located not so far from the Iceland mainland, and was first held in 1874 to commemorate Iceland´s settlement. I don´t know what the earliest years were like, but based on my two visits (this year, and in 2008), about 10-15,000 Icelandics migrate by airplane and ferry to Heimaey, stay in guest houses and tents, and party in The Valley of the island (dalurinn), while mostly cover bands and some major Icelandic names perform. Because it is Iceland, the weather is always unpredictable, and one can just as easily expect a mild pleasant night, or a rainstorm.
This year, I attended the festival with Eva, Audur and Emilia, and stayed at a guest house in Heimaey with them, as well as a big group of Icelandics, some of whom where already their friends and some who became close friends of theirs by the end.
Eva´s dad picked up Audur in the car and drove the three of us to a town where Audur´s sister was living, we switched cars, and headed to the port from which we would take the ferry to the islands (about 3 hours away). Drove through flat farmland, saw horses, cows, stopped in Selfoss for a coffee, and talked about how it hadn´t yet set in that we were actually going to the festival.
Parked the car, in a huge parking lot, met up with Emilia, ate a hot dog, took our anti-nausea medicine, and rode the ferry through very, very choppy water and fog, which disappeared just as we were approaching the island. From the ferry, I could see people on bicycle rickshaws offering to drive people to their guest houses, people were handing out bottle openers (I thought they were, in Audur´s words 'beautiful rings'), and people were singing.
Our guest house was slightly more far away than the one we stayed at last time (which I spotted from memory from the road), we unpacked our food, drinks, etc., and I think soon after opened a bottle of wine. We sat outside for the next few hours with the Icelandics staying in the guest house. I had little idea of what was going on for most of the time, as everybody was speaking in icelandic, but I did my best to pick out words here and there.
The group walked to Dalurinn, rain pants and jackets on, received our wrist bands. We found a comfortable spot on the hill. A native guy was sitting next to me with his 3 year old son, with whom I made faces for a bit. The guy gave me a sip from a bottle of Opal. We watched Bubbi Morthens play with a few others (K.K. og Ellen), Veðurguðirnir (who sings the Bahama song), and this amazing cover band that I saw last time. While Dikta was playing, I felt a sharp pain in my head, and realized that I had been hit really hard with either a bottle or a rock. There was a pretty serious bump afterwards, and I spent an hour feeling pretty nervous about whether I had a concussion, but everything ended up being okay.
Understandably, my specific memories of the evening are few. There was no rain this night, the cover bands played some ABBA songs that I loved, among others, the people around me were getting wild, but I was, amazingly, keeping it relatively level. Audur and Sjofn left a bit before me and Eva; we left at around 5 a.m. The walk home felt much more difficult and longer than the walk there. When I finally got back to the guest house, I devoured a container of skyr, was relieved to hear some snoring (I knew then that no one could complain to much about mine) and went to sleep.
The Hold Steady -- The Chill Out Tent
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