Gimlé

I don’t know how it is with most people but Icelanders tend to spend their Christmas with their close family.

The problem is that “close family” in Iceland generally refers to your siblings, parents, your parents’ siblings, your parents’ siblings’ kids and grandkids, your grandparents as well as some of your grandparents’ siblings.

And their dog, if they have one.

Today we had the do that was on my mother’s side, with her siblings and all the lot that comes with them.

Good fun, a buffet, as well as the usual family gathering sort of thing, complete with the bored teenagers in the corner.

No alcohol, but apparently my family’s unusual in that regard. This is probably because my grandfather on my mother’s side (who has now passed away) was an alcoholic.

Tomorrow, we have the routine last minute Christmas shopping as well as a traditional Sunday meal at my grandmothers’ on my dad’s side.

The dinner will consist of sheeps’ heads and a large leg of lamb smoked in stuff you don’t want to hear about as well as salted.

Traditionally, then on Monday, people eat fermented ray (a kind of flat fish, I think it is also called skate) and get absolutely smashed. Probably because you have to be drunk to tolerate the taste.

Thankfully, Iceland has imported a few dining traditions from abroad so that I can get away with eating turkey on the 24th, which is the main day of celebration over here.

More later.

Baldur.
Reykjavík, Iceland.