Icelandic children attend one school until age 16, another until 20; then university after. My family's girls are 3 and 8. They go to the only school in Vik, which I found out last night only has between 60 to 70 students. Katla, the 8 year old, had a school play last night that I think the entire town went to. This isn't her in the photo, but she was a smurf as well in the play.
As usual, I was sitting in the back lost in Icelandic until I heard the familiar words blasting out the speakers, "oh, you touch my tra-la-a, yeah my ding ding dong..." and lo and behold, there were teenagers on stage dancing to good ole Gunther; girls dressed in "sexy teacher" outfit, and boys with half buttoned shirts and ties tied around their heads. I was still in shock when my lady told me that this was about what they thought happened during teachers' meetings. But that wasn't all. The curtains closed for a moment, then some Icelandic was said, then it opened again and the actual headmaster of the school, dressed in old jeans and spandex sleeveless shirt, also with tie around head, joined in the dance. Oh boy.
After the post-play-dessert-feast ended, my family drove up the hill we live by, and guess what we saw...
Eyjafjallajökull, our friendly little volcano next door. Katla, the bigger one that might get triggered any day now, is even closer. Shot with 24mm, not full frame. That's where I am.
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