Another late entry here. I apparently misunderstood that there were three gifts for me - not two. The third was in Hafnarfj?r?ur, a town about a half hour bus ride from the teeming metropolis where I live, Reykjav?k (pop. 118,488). What transpires is an adventure that underlines how great Iceland can be sometimes.
Yulia and I took the city bus from one of Iceland's two malls, on a day that started fairly nice, but blew up into a full-on blizzard by the time we were halfway to the bus stop. Yulia soldiered on stoically, like a grimly determined samurai facing an army of gaijin invaders, while I moaned and whined about how cold it was. For part of the journey I literally pushed her in a stolen shopping cart (PROTIP: shopping carts are hard to navigate in the snow) that I abandoned by the side of the road. Fortunately, we arrived at the bus stop just as it pulled up, and we were on our way to Hafnarfj?r?ur.
Hafnarfj?r?ur is my Icelandic home town. I lived there for the first couple years I lived in Iceland. It's a slow paced town, and being right on the edge of the greater capital area, those of us who live in the capital like to make jokes about how backwards and hickish everyone is (e.g. Two guys from Hafnarfj?r?ur are sitting together in a bar, talking about their day. One says: "Man I had a rough day. I was stuck in a broken elevator for two hours". The other guy says: "That's nothing. I was stuck on a broken escalator for four hours."). I hadn't visited in like 3 years, and noticed a lot had changed. It was kind of nice to visit again, or would have been if it hadn't been -17 with horizontal snow and gale force winds.
Anyway, I got to the coffeehouse in question. It's a cozy little place, with quirky, second-hand furniture. The only people there were the two employees: a guy showing a young woman how to make espresso. I approached the counter and realized I had no idea how to ask for what I was there to pick up. I didn't have any ID and didn't even know what I was there for. I worried this would lead to complications. But this is Iceland, so this is how it played out:
Me: Hi, I'm here to ... pick up something? My name is [REDACTED].
Dude: Oh, right. One moment.
Like this was the most natural thing in the world, that random strangers just pop in, say they're "here to pick up something", and expect the staff to just know what they're talking about. Dude popped into the back and then came out with an enormous box. With some difficulty, he set it down on a table. It was festooned with a little red ribbon. I opened it, and found it stuffed with balled up Icelandic newspapers. Digging inside, I found this incredible, space-age coffee press! P?lmi, the dude in question, told me the added weight to the box was a water bottle, that he put in there to "make it more of a surprise".
This is P?lmi, the dude in question.
My Secret Santa had emailed this cafe, and bought this press there. P?lmi went the extra mile of putting the thing in an oversized box, carefully stuffing it, adding extra mass to enhance the surprise, taping it shut, and topping it off with a cute ribbon. Whether he did this as per instructions from my Secret Santa or just because he was thrilled at taking part in the surprise, I was pretty impressed. P?lmi asked me if I knew how to work an Aeropress. I did not, so he happily demonstrated how one of these things is used. In two different ways.
This, my friends, is one of the best things about living in Iceland. People are easy-going, generally unstressed, and love Christmas so much they will participate in the gift giving of one total stranger to another. If you ever visit Iceland, I encourage you all to visit Pallett Kaffikompan? in Hafnarfj?r?ur. Not just because their coffee has literally won awards, but also because of P?lmi, who is a solid guy.
Upon returning home, Yulia took an immediate interest in the press, as she is wont to do with anything requiring instructions to assemble. Unlike her father, she actually reads the instructions before trying to put something together.
Yes, those are my tengu wings hanging up behind her. Not for cosplay; I mean they are my actual wings, for flight.
We had fun making imaginary coffee. Imaginary, because it was like eight in the evening at this point and I was not going to make coffee at this hour. However, it has replaced my percolator, and is all set up to go for my coffee tomorrow.
So thank you, Secret Santa, for this thoughtful and practical gift. I expect to get a lot of mileage out of this thing, as I happen to lovelovelove coffee.
Caw caw!
