My 11-year-old son Flynn is obsessed with Iceland.
“I think I want to learn to speak Icelandic,” he declared to us at some point.
He now has two different Icelandic apps on his iPhone and paces around the house working on his pronunciation.
“Kveðja!” he says cheerfully by way of an Icelandic goodbye to our 5-year-old daughter Imogen as she heads off to summer camp.
Svið (singed sheep’s head)
Why Iceland? I take some responsibility, having introduced him to the Icelandic band, Sigur Rós, and taken him to one of their very dramatic concerts.
I’ve always been a bit intrigued by Iceland myself. I’m Irish, I like cold and dramatic northern landscapes and broody people who drink a bit too much and write mournful poetry and music. More
skinny girls & mayonnaise 