I brought 3 books to Iceland: All About Love by bell hooks, The Subversive Stitch by Rozsika Parker, and Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo. Two smart books and a fun book, I thought, planning to give myself extra credit for reading all 3 while I was here, despite having started both smart books long before leaving Montreal. Since arriving, I’ve only cracked the cover of the fun book.
I talked to an Icelandic woman who works as a kindergarten teacher. When we complained about the expensive grocery prices we’ve encountered, she told us to try dumpster diving. She explained her strategy that she uses at home in Reykjavik. Then she taught me how to knit.
Zoé and I spent the last week dressing one of the countermarch looms in the weaving studio. I have the first turn weaving on it. I’ve been wondering about the women who worked on these looms before me. Ragga told us that the looms were built on the Textile Center grounds in 1924. Many of the looms have names of past students crudely carved into them. I feel the previous weavers watching over me as I pass the shuttle back and forth between sheds. I hope that they’re not judging my selvedges.
It’s been extremely windy here for what feels like a full week. To get some respite from it, we’ve started taking the river path to the pool instead of the sidewalk. My boots got dirty and Andre showed me how to clean them with his horsehair brush.
I woke up today to a scratchy throat and stuffy nose, having finally caught the House 35 cold. I filed that away in my pile of evidence that this is in fact the real world, accompanied by: I still interrupt people when they’re talking, I always seem to be running late, I look for hummus at the grocery store. Counter evidence includes: my hair always looks good despite getting wet at the pool every day, I’ve yet to get a substantial sunburn, and that it never gets dark outside.
Overall, I’m still me.
Shan Collar