Yesterday mornig I had an adventure finding a breakfast shop called Grái Kötturinn (Gr-ow-ih (not like grow by ggggrrrrr and "ow!") Cu(h)tter-in, The Grey Cat) on a street called Hverfisgata. More on that later. I went because I couldn't sleep the night before because of a rash, and wanted a breakfast that wasn't bread and cheese/milk and cereal.
So I got there walking in knee deep snow and half falling over, ordered bacon and eggs with toast and potatoes (true American breakfast!). I ordered in English because there were some English speaking people there and I decided if I was going to start a conversation it would be a good segway (I never did, but I thought about it). I got a book from the many book shelves lining the dimly lit basement restaurant and started reading about an Icelandic artist living in New York (Louisa Matthiasdóttir), and one of the paintings was titles "View from Hverfisgata." Heh, cool. I was on Hverfisgata looking at a painting of the view on Hverfisgata.
So, ordering in English was also a good idea because the Icelanders sitting next to me didn't know I knew what they were saying. It's fun to listen to Icelanders make fun of Americans putting soy in coffee. Then I paid in Icelandic, and I'd like to think they got a little bit quieter.
Here's some info on Grái Kötturinn.
I went home, most of my upper body covered in a rash now and quickly went to the doctor, then once the medicine kicked in, the rash keeping me awake went away
Earlier this morning (since I forgot a few things in Reykjavík) I was talking with my sister saying I forgot a few things, she answered in Icelandic, then I answered in Icelandic, then we kept talking in Icelandic and I didn't realize it until halfway through the conversation. Woah.
That's all I've got so far. Christmas was me sick in bed for 2 days lamenting the smell of skata (rotting slate fish) and puking. Lots of fun.
Mmkay, takk fyrir að lesa og eitthvað.