I Love Iceland Noir.

I just love it here. So much so that I’m foregoing my hiatus day to post a new blog featuring photos of Reykjavik and MIE in action on the first day of Iceland Noir, a festival of crime fiction organized by our own Yrsa, Quentin Bates, and Ragnar Jonasson.

I’ve never been to Iceland before, but I will be back. And back to Iceland Noir if they’ll have me.  The town, the people, the ambiance, the nightlife, all create a sense of what legendary Berlin or Paris must have been like in their heydays.  Or maybe it’s just as simple as what I overheard a young American telling his girlfriend in a coffee shop, “It’s a cross between Bar Harbor, Maine and old Amsterdam.”  Whatever it is, this place has all the right vibes.

So, here are some photos I took, though I never did get around to taking any of its vibrant, sophisticated (as compared to Mykonos) nightlife for I was too busy partaking to photograph.  

The festival itself is a delight, filled with interesting speakers putting on their “A game” just for the joy of being here, and a knowledgeable, appreciative audience.   What more could a writer ask for?  Don’t answer, just look at the photos.

The first thing I saw after passing through immigration.

The first thing I saw upon leaving the terminal at 7AM. 

The strong, windswept, colorful, enchanting town of Reykjavik.

Off in the distance in that last photo is a church steeple, one that offers spectacular views of Reykjavik from the town's highest ground.  I found a balance in the place...and decided to leave my mark alongside the awe-inspiring site. Most though thought I should have left the beret instead.

But what of all the MIE'rs over there?  Here they come, Annamaria, Yrsa, Zoe, Michael, Stan, and moi.

And now it's off to Day Two!

Jeff—Saturday