Langamyri

Arrived at Langamyri, it looks like I'm going to learn Icelandic. Also, it's dark but rumor has it there are lots of horses and sheep outside. And rhubarb. Also there is very little to do here in the winter, except feed the horses and sheep and marmalade-ify the rhubarb.

góða nótt

To all concerned parties

I opted for a haircut in Buenos Aires considering it cost two empanadas and I would be entering Euro territory soon. My hairdresser was a gently commanding woman who spoke no English, which was fun, constraining my picky impulses by a severely limited vocabulary besides 'un poco mas' (a little more) and "me gusta" (I like) and "esto es como el corte de pelo de Boy George." Felt a bit like David Sedaris overemploying "d'accord" until he ended up unwittingly agreeing to a colonoscopy. The worst I've ended up with so far is goulash and my colon remains untouched but the product on my head is something between a bowl cut and these—



crazysexybutch.

I have found that navigating Icelandic streets is slightly less intuitive than finding my way around in Spanish. Thames, Honduras, Costa Rica, Avenida Santa Fe, Humboldt...Þingholtsstræti, Bólstaðarhlíð, Skerjafjörður. I sound something like a Swedish cow with marbles in its mouth.

Off to the protest.