As my fellow expats in Iceland are so painfully aware, we've been having a bit of a cold snap here on The Rock. Actually, "a bit" is an understatement. It's just fucking cold.
While it's true that no one visits or moves to Iceland for the weather (except maybe people with heat sensitivity or excessive sweating) this is just getting ridiculous. It has barely cracked 10 degrees C (50 degrees F) since one glorious week in the beginning of May. As I write this post it is a balmy 6 degrees.
The biggest problem is that the last two summers have been "unusually nice" (as many Icelanders have told me) and so by comparison, this summer is not living up to the new high expectations.
Now, I'm not one to obsess about the weather because I'm holed up in an office most days but I've since taken up a crazy hobby of training for a half-marathon in August. And you know what? Cold, rainy, windy weather ain't good for the joints and muscles. Nope. I was forced last week to buy fleece-lined "winter running tights" at an excessively inflated Icelandic price. (12000 ISK for 50 Euro tights.)
One of my old college buddies and Facebook friends recently posted a haiku she wrote about the heatwave that's steaming up Wisconsin. In response, I wrote this about our sorry excuse of a summer here:
Cold is getting old
Waking up with stiff ankle
Not my cup of tea
This probably doesn't need to be explained, but I was never a poetry major in college.
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