Tuesday night was homestay night, meaning we were split into pairs and spent time with different families for the evening. Regan and I went to a nearby cattle farm, where an huge Icelandic family lives. The smaller family that we hung out with had an Icelandic father, a Danish wife, and a Scot named Billy who has lived with them for two years working on the farm. Soon he hopes to move to New Zealand. We got to herd the cattle, aka walk behind them as they herded themselves into the barn, then watched them hook themselves up the machine and be milked.
The farm was HUGE and surrounded by mountains and a glacier. It stretches from the river (that also runs through Skalholt) to Geysir- a good four or five miles along the road. The father told us how all the farmers in Iceland get drunk every fall to go herd the sheep off the mountains where they have the summer pastures. Apparently it's the thing to do.
We rode around the farm, seeing the horses, quarries, and fields- some of which have never been plowed. He told us land is really cheap in Iceland, and that if we wanted it free then the farmer at Skalholt has an unmarried son. Just kidding, Dad.
The whole time we've been here, we've been trying to figure out whether or not Icelanders really believe in the "hidden people," or elves that supposedly live in the rocks. I turns out that they sort of do. Our farmer had a field with an unplowed patch around a hole, which he said was where some elves had a hot spring. He wasn't sure whether or not all the stories were true, so he felt safer just leaving the area alone. Better safe than sorry when it comes to these things.
We stayed until 10:30 sitting at the kitchen table talking to the farmer, his wife, and Billy the Scot, looking out the front windows at the sun shining over the horses in their pasture. Maybe I'll go visit the Skalholt farmer's son after all...
Bless Bless!
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