Iceland Noir Redux

 

Jeff--Saturday

 

Barbara and I just love it here at Iceland Noir.  It's our sixth appearance at what I consider the most intimate and relaxed mystery conference anywhere...even though this time it's operating under the threat of an imminently erupting volcano. A situation which I should add, no one in Reykjavik--local or visitor-- seems overly concerned. The dominant feeling among Iceland Noir participants is that we're all family, all in this together, whatever may come.  

 

Besides, speaking for myself, the odds are our plane will depart on Wednesday before the magma starts to flow topside. 

 

Among the big name non-Icelandic stalwarts toughing it out together are Dan Brown, Louise Penny, Neil Gaiman, Sara Blædel, Lisa Jewel, and Hillary Clinton.

 

Frankly, I'm too busy having a good time to do more than rerun my  very first post on Iceland Noir.  It features MIE in action on the first day of Iceland Noir 2014, a festival of crime fiction headed these days by Yrsa Sigurðardottir, Ragnar Jonasson, and Hattie Williams.

I shall now take us from the present to the past...featuring baby pictures of a sort (including some hairstyles long abandoned).

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 on to the next day!

 

--Jeff