Ice #6 Such Love

better days ________ www.coopradio.org

Iceland #6 : Such Love

The other morning the sun came to Reykjavik, so Disa roused
me from sleep and away we flew, east of the city, toward a
place called Thingvellir. It is the site of the world´s original
parliament, where in the year 874 some farmers began to gather
regularly to address and solve the problems of the day. Disa did
not choose the main road for our journey, but instead took me
over an isolated and mountainous route. During the trip we
did not see one other vehicle. She wanted to show me where
Reykjavik gets it hot spring water from, and also, I think, to
show me another part of the beauty of her homeland.

There is a subterranean danger in this breathtaking place. I
doubt that any of us would choose to live in the shadow of
active volcanoes, where regular earthquakes come rising from
the Atlantic´s floor. Yesterday, a little to the north, there
was a shaker in the 3.5 range.

The road down to Thingvellir winds along a torquoise lake
so deep and mysterious that it is home to species of fish found
nowhere else in the world. The lake was born of a volcano.
It is magnificently wide, part of a national park now. We
stopped at the park´s center to look at explanatory exhibits
about the secrets of the lake, and had an Icelandic hot dog.
The mustard they have here is to die for. Being a sunny day
and windy, too, the air at this elevation had a little too much
bite for a long walk, but the panorama was stunning.

I have been meeting Disa´s family. I told you of the acid test
her father, Gudmundur, put me through. Today was Disa´s
mother, Aagot´s, birthday and we went to Mosfellbaer to
celebrate. Aagot is 69, delicate, full of life, articulate, well-read,
intellectually conversant in English. I like her. Disa took her a
present. I bought her some roses and gave her a cd. We had
some sweets, a nip of schnapps, and I got to meet Disa´s sister,
Anna, and her family -- husband Siggi, son Gummi, and daughter
Asta. Siggi plays clarinet in the Icelandic Symphony Orchestra.
Anna is a gifted classical pianist who has traveled many countries
as a guest soloist. Gummi, short for Gudmundur, is eleven and
has already written a science fiction book; his intelligence,
for his age, is a little scary. Asta is an Icelandic teenager,
looking fashionably bohemian with dark hair and eyes, nose ring
and studded tongue, and a wide range of music likes. They live
on a farm with a stable of Icelandic ponies. So, guess where
we´re going on Saturday? Tumi was also there, son of Disa´s
oldest sister, Hjordis and brother-in-law, Steini, who are out
of town at this time. Tumi is 21, studying for university exams,
tall and strong with a good handshake.

Yesterday we went for coffee and homemade pastries at the
home of Disa´s younger brother, Sverrir, and his wife, Gudbjorg.
They have 11 year old twins, Rebecca and Sverrir-Pall, both
blond and adorable. Sverrir-Pall is older by eight minutes, as
he didn´t mind telling me. Sverrir also plays clarinet, and runs
an instrument repair shop out of his basement. Gudbjorg is a
public health nurse. Tomorrow, Rebecca and Sverrir-Paul will
perform a little soiree concert for me, on flute and piano.
Disa´s baby brother, Kiddi, is in Sri Lanka, working as part
of a peace-keeping mission. It´s a big, wonderful family.

Everywhere we go we run into people Disa knows. The other day,
we went to the east side of Reykjavik to return clean laundry
from Snussa to Ingibjork and Gardar, who loaned us the cabin.
They have a handsome, dark-haired son, Isleifur. Last night,
two of the counsellors Disa has worked with were at the blues
festival. Julia was there, too, best friend to Kiddi. I´ve come
to like meeting Disa´s friends, as they all offer big hugs and
kisses on the cheek. It´s a good way to meet, by embracing.
I got to speak a while last night in the performers lounge with
Gudmundur Petursson, the lanky ringlet-haired guitarist. He
has traveled and played with Pinetop Perkins, and appeared at
the Chicago Blues Festival. He met Son House, too, and we
enjoyed sharing stories of the music business both here in Iceland
and across the water in North America.

Last night´s headliner was Magnus Eiriksson, the "Grandpa of
Iceland blues," as Dori called him. Magnus is probably 65 or so,
white hair, a big man who plays guitar with deep feeling, sings,
blows harmonica, and has written a few hundred songs in all
styles which are well-known in Iceland. As Disa said, "We have
been listening to Maggi for forty years." Another woman told me,
"He has been making us cry for a long, long time." He came on
and hit a subtle, rolling vamp blues, with his band of bass,
piano and drums gliding with him. There was no flash about him,
but as you listened you could hear the mileage and the truth,
and how honest and generous his music is. When he sang, it
was in the voice of a man with a life so big it caught in his
throat. I am so impressed with the talent here. Magnus blew
some harp that was perfunctory, and then they moved into
a riff blues in almost a Santana-like feel, and it was in this piece
- having established the love and affection of his listeners -
that the older man dug into the fretboard and tweaked the tone
knobs to produce a solo that was almost erotic in its combined
tenderness and ferocity. The lyrics, Disa told me, were about a
man asking his wife to come back home, that he just wanted
one more time to hold her in his arms. I looked out across the
audience and, believe me, in every set of women´s eyes I could
see that, if they were the woman in the song, they would say
yes, Maggi to his plea for company... such was the love for this
blues grandfather in the Hotel Borg ballroom last night.

It is time to go down to the hotel again. Disa has gone ahead,
to ensure a seat. Andreu, the "Koko Taylor of Icelandic Blues,"
is going to do a full set this evening, and it is expected that
the house will again be packed to the brim. Can you tell that
I am a little rhapsodic? Thordis Gudmundsdottir has made me
feel so welcomed here, in her home, in her city, in the homes
of her family, in the company of her friends, in this humble yet
tenacious country where she grew up. She is such a kindness,
without pretense, and all I need do is hold her the better to
know my own purpose here in the world.

It´s raining so lightly just now, a mist. I walk through 101's
narrow winding streets by myself, twenty minutes to the hotel.
I told Disa to go on ahead without me while I finished writing
this. I suppose that I wanted to be alone a few minutes, to
collect my thoughts and feelings. Really, I´m rolling with so
many emotions, my heart so wide open, feeling as if I could
break out in song or tears or giggles at any moment. Call it
a fullness, then. I am ripe with my years and my yearnings.
Alive with colours I did not know were still in me. Such love,
oh yes, such love. What else keeps us alive?

DL