Living with an Icelandic (Part 2)

I know there are places in Mexico where foreigners are scammed, charging the tourists more. Even further, I have heard of restaurants having special menus with higher prices for when they see that the diner is not local. However, it’s not common (I assume) to hear people saying that X or Y is a tourist trap and that they will rip you off. But in Iceland, the tourist traps are something that every well intentioned Icelandic wants you to avoid. A simple example is buying bottled water. They even sell water with caption that reads “water 100% pure, gloriously purified on the volcanic springs” or something like that. When in reality, is the same basic tap water.

I lived 24 years as a typical Chilanga (a Mexico City born), forgetting that, every summer, around July, the City becomes an ocean around six in the afternoon. That Tláloc visited us with rains that ( also due to the garbage) clogged the drains, made a traffic hell and broke down the subway. Sometimes,when I was more cautious, I would wear my rubber boots, (a fashionable pair that had squares) and I would keep a good jacket in my backpack. And just in case, I always carried an umbrella, especially after once that I got super wet while going to the University. But never in my life I had so present the f#%!¡&*# weather. They say that if you don't like the weather, wait five minutes. And it is not exaggeration. I have learned that what I knew as wind IS NOT. That the drizzle, the one we called in spanish chipi chipi, ceases to be so small when you are in less than four degrees; that umbrellas don’t work; that it is always better to walk with resistant shoes; that walking in the snow tires you and makes you sweat; that wool is my best friend; that when the sun comes up, no matter for how short time, it means summer, and that I have to sit outside to get some of it, even for a few seconds; that ice is my worst enemy; that I don't know how to walk; that I have to walk like a penguin and ... THAT I HAVE TO CHECK ALWAYS THE F#%!¡&*# WEATHER!

Icelanders love to complain, you can notice that just by reading their newspapers, where they give nothing but bad news (despite being one of the most stable places in the world). So, if you want to break the ice, once again, complaining about the weather is always a good idea. They seem to be glad that the weather is annoying you as well as it does to them, but in the meantime, they wear so few layers of clothing with such pride, as if it were up to that to maintain their citizenship (something like if you bring a jacket in minus twelve degrees, they revoke your passport). After all, they are the heirs of the Nordic community who voluntarily decided that this island was a place to settle.

Kósý is one of the words my husband uses the most. It seems to be a constant search, to find the kósý moment. To create spaces in our house, especially in the living room or the bedroom that make you feel this way, the pleasure of the homelike, the warmth and cuddly. The textures that are kósý, like a soft stuffed blanket. To this day, I don't know for sure how many things can be kósý, but I know, by experiencing it, what he means by that, and surely those are the moments when simply feeling kósý is enough.

I heard once that if you understand a joke in another language, you’ve already master it. I’ve seen movies, television series and even a series of comic skits and I have noticed that Icelandic humor is quite peculiar. It’s not simple, but it’s based on simple things, it’s not black, but it can be very dark. They play with words, but not all the time, it’s satirical, without reaching to an acid level. It is, in a nutshell ... strange. And, of course, my husband's sense of humor is like that. Sometimes I know that something can be funny for him but, frequently, when something makes me cry of laughter, it’s meh, whatever thing for him ... and vice versa. He can laugh at a silly pun, as well as a much more elaborate joke. And sometimes he can make comments that are, at least for me, hilarious, but he says them with a serious face, as if he was speaking literally. There are times where I don't understand, I just don’t get him, because we get lost in translation. But it’s the other moments, those jokes that cross through both of us, as in a Venn diagram, when we hit the nail of our so-called sense of humor, which not only make us laugh, but also remind us of how much we have learned from each other through all this years.