After over two weeks in countries where we speak the languages - Austria (fluent German), Dutch (horribly spoken Nederlands, yet enough comprehension) and Belgium (fluent French) - it is v odd to not understand a bit of the native language, here in Iceland. Hungary does not count.
American football is on the pub TV: N.E. Patriots vs. N.O. Saints. Neither GarBear nor I care.
(Note: If my writing style seems odd, to those whom are more familiar w my sesquipadalian ways, my Baroque, verbal-flourishes, I am currently influenced, this trip anyhoo, by David Sedaris. I am reading Theft By Finding: Diaries 1977 - 2002; his natural, unpretentious, diary manner has affected Moi. (See? Moi. There is some of the old, less tired JennyPop!)
Brugghus must mean Brewhouse. I see some Dutch in Icelandic.
Sidan must mean Since. Drekkist means Drink (formal/plural/directive). Iskalt means Ice Cold. I think.
8 degrees Celsius, it turns out, is 0 degrees F. No, not F. 0 degrees C is freezing, 32 degrees F. I can't do the math right now. I'm tired.
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