Iceland review - 2019, Síða 121

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Iceland Review
There are few who know the kind of place it was, or what
happened that night. But I remember a deep valley
between two grassy mountains. Their peaks rounded
and reaching up beyond the clouds. Hummingbirds flut-
tering between colourful flowers in sun-kissed fields.
Families in t-shirts emblazoned with the village of
Makastar whisked around the village in horse-drawn
carriages. Leather-clad, spike-belted toughs on
motorcycles rumbled across the square on their way to
the city beyond the mountain. Some of them whistled
at me when I went out to buy nuts or honey soap in the
market. I also bought a souvenir on the bridge, drank
ice-cold water that tasted of sulphur out of a river, and
the honey beer that the locals brewed on the hill. They
served the beer in clay jars in a tent on the square and
in side street jazz bars.
Old men played cards and told the children, who
were skipping rope, ghost stories on the square. The
women drank cognac – usually outside, but in the bars
if it was raining – and recalled the horrors of the war.
I spent a few days in this village, where the houses are
slung low and the roses tangle themselves around the
aspens, before sailing down the Tumida river.
Traveling alone, I sometimes sat by the old men after
breakfast on the hill. Took snuff and for a few coins,
learned their old card game. When it rained, I dozed
Story by
Júlía Margrét Einarsdóttir
Translation by
Larissa Kyzer
FICTION
By publishing new short stories by Icelandic authors, Iceland Review hopes to bring readers a taste of the vibrant
literary community of Iceland. While the novel has long been the dominant form of fiction among the country’s
authors, the short story has become increasingly popular. For tourists, residents of Iceland, and armchair travellers
alike, these stories can serve as entertainment as well as a bite-sized introduction to the country’s rich literature.
Illustrations by
Helga Páley Friðþjófsdóttir
S T R A W B E R R Y
M O O N