December's Endless Summer, Part 1

Patsy got to the airport soon after I arrived, but just long enough after said arrival that I thought she might not have remembered that today was the day of my arrival. Slightly shaken, I spent the car ride with her winding down, wondering what it might mean for me to be here, in Iceland, after four months in India. Was I ready? Would I be able to be what I needed to? Show enough gratitude? Engage enough with my friends here while simultaneously trying to disengage with the India that I had just left behind?

We arrived at the house, and I followed Patsy through the door.

Hello?
Hello?
Hello?!
Hello!
HELLO!
Hello!!!

Oh! home.

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After crashing so hard the night before, I woke up to dusky light at 9 in the morning. The only other person home was Ivar, the budding young gallant who has taken the place of the two-year-old who left with the Thormars for colder pastures when I was 10.

Would you like some bread?
Yes please.
With cheese? Or we have patte too.
I'd love some cheese!
(young gallant presents sleepy and mussed American wanderer with a plate on which is set a piece of toast, buttered, with sliced cheese on top. The American wonders who this young man is. And how does he know where they keep the cheese slicer?)

Would you like anything to drink? Tea or juice?
I would LOVE some tea.
(mysterious young gallant makes tea)
I don't know if you like milk and sugar, so I'll just put them here on the table.
(gallant hands American a cup of tea, takes his own to his seat, and opens the paper. Did I read the paper, reflects the American, when I was 13? Do I read it NOW?)
Thank you so much Ivar!
You're welcome.

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Hanna and I decided to go to the pool. It was snowing. It was SNOWING!!!! But the pool is the place to be here in Iceland. That is, the place to be besides the bar. And as it wasn't yet evening, we decided on the pool. The pools here are warm, and endlessly so, as a result of the geothermal heating which keeps the country running and in high spirits. We showered, put on our suits, and stepped out into the frigid cold. The kind of cold made up of lots and lots of tiny ice crystals which you can't see, but which sting you like I-don't-know-what. We hopped in the jacuzzi. We sat there, chatting, shoulders deep in steamy water, fat snowflakes falling on our eyelashes, just like in the "Sound of Music". Just like that, except not so real and infinitely more magical. Is this real life?