(An aside, sometimes I think it would be nice if my life were a little less exciting, but most of the time I think it's all great fun!)
2018 was the year of the Iceland Noir literary festival. It's held every two years, in 2016 I had planned to go, having been introduced to Icelandic writing by such brilliantly dark and twisted authors as Yrsa Sigurdardottir and Ragnar Jonasson one of whose books I was delighted to proofread. So delighted that I went to London for his launch party and even had my picture taken with him, though I was too shy to ask him to turn around. Hey, it was a huge deal for someone so camera shy and introverted. He is also very tall.
But I digress, as ever.
I had planned to go to Iceland Noir in 2016 but at the last minute I went horseriding instead.
It was my post-twelve-months-of-cancer-treatment challenge: fly to Iceland and spend five days riding Viking horses up volcanoes.
This year I went to the literary festival.
Very nervously, it's stressful for me to leave the security of my comfort zone in this commune, and this particular trip involved boarding my pets, travelling to Paris via Rennes by TGV, an overnight stay in a hotel at CDG, a flight to Keflavik, a trip to the Blue Lagoon on arrival, finding my hotel at midnight, attendance at the festival itself with the prospect of meeting some of the authors whose books I have proofread, and the publisher for whom I have worked, a couple of outings, horseriding up a volcano, and retracing my route back to my small French village.
So very much could go wrong...
So very much did.
Mostly thanks to Iceland Air who were once my favourite airline but whose lack of communication/information/accuracy/efficiency and care caused one problem after another.
From the acute stress of the Paris flight that was first delayed, then cancelled, then arrived to take the dozen of us who'd not made the alternative flight with everyone else, to the mistakes with my booking at the Blue Lagoon, to my hotel room being overbooked and me being sent off at midnight to an unsatisfactory alternative place by the harbour that was so noisy I did not sleep a wink, to a cancelled excursion for which there was no refund, to the non-arrival of the transport for the riding excursion to the failure to provide the requested wake-up call for my 4:30 a.m. departure, to the pilot whose unilateral decision to wait for a dozen Canadians delayed our departure by over 45 minutes and caused me to miss my train from CDG and thus to have to wait over six hours for the next one.
But my trip was wonderful, once I'd decided not to be stressed and annoyed by Iceland Air's mess-ups, and Iceland Noir was amazing. Of course it was. I knew it would be worth it.
The Orenda Books team were, for me, the stars of the show.
Especially Antti Tuomainen and Johanna Gustawsson seen here making everyone laugh, and yes, that's Yrsa sprinkling them with glitter...
Roxanne Bouchard. Author of We Were the Salt of the Sea (among others). Another lovely lady, very wicked sense of humour and very approachably kind and warm-hearted.
I could go on, and on posting pictures of the people I met, the authors whose books I've had the pleasure to proofread, those whose new books I have on my Christmas List for Santa - did you know that in Iceland the tradition is to spent Christmas Eve reading the book that someone has gifted to you while eating chocolate? I am spending Christmas in France while the Rags are in the UK so I am planning to embrace this Icelandic tradition with a new book, some Baileys chocolate liquer and a box of chocolate brazils.
I ate cod and chips for lunch at the festival on both days because Icelandic cod is so fresh I just had to make the most of it, and having it infrequently makes it more of a treat. A little likethe kouign amanns that I only eat at Trégastel...
It really was good.
Very good.
This lady is wonderful. She is Lilja Sigurðardóttir she not only writes brilliant books, she is also kind and funny and incredibly clever.
Of course, I went riding.
This time with Ishestar They are excellent. Before we met the mounts they gave us a video lecture on the Icelandic horses, how best to ride them and a little info about the area etc. They were ultra-cautious about bio-security because the horses are pure-bred, have no exposure to other horses outside of Iceland and thus no immunity against equine diseases. I had washed and disinfected my riding boots but not my hat so it was left in a locker and I used one of theirs.
We rode along tracks through lava fields, careful not to let the horses stray onto the lava because the ecosystem is very special and precarious: it's taken thousands of years for the mosses and lichens to establish themselves and they are dependent on the health of their neighbours, so if you damage one plant, the destruction can spread to the whole lava field.
I'd like to study lava fields in depth one day...
Maybe Reykjavik University has some online courses...
So, Iceland Noir in a nutshell.
I made it there, coped with the challenges, was stoical and pleasant in the face of more than my fair share of problems, mingled and met with authors, publishers and translators, and generally had a blast.
And these guys were the cherry on the cake.
