This is Moordor, Middle Earth, the last angry place. It's windswept, volcanic, got its own brand of mold. The social and work schedule of an Icelander is: WORK, Monday thru Friday. They generally go home at 5pm, then on Friday night, they get together, drink a fair amount of booze until about midnight, when they go out, already fairly soused, and get freaky till dawn. In the summer, they emerge from bars to the bright sunlight at all hours of the day and night. In the winter, they start when it's dark and they finish when it's dark. After a night on the town, two competing camps of Icelanders (this is a small place, remember) go to two competing sandwhich places and chow down on the greasiest most alcohol absorbing food in the world. With fries. They're home by 7. The cleaning corps come out during the day, wash down the streets of vomit before the late sleeping not quite so heavy drinking tourists wake up. Then, on Saturday, it begins anew. Is this a great country or what?
This is Moordor, Middle Earth, the last angry place. It's windswept, volcanic, got its own brand of mold. The social and work schedule of an Icelander is: WORK, Monday thru Friday. They generally go home at 5pm, then on Friday night, they get together, drink a fair amount of booze until about midnight, when they go out, already fairly soused, and get freaky till dawn. In the summer, they emerge from bars to the bright sunlight at all hours of the day and night. In the winter, they start when it's dark and they finish when it's dark. After a night on the town, two competing camps of Icelanders (this is a small place, remember) go to two competing sandwhich places and chow down on the greasiest most alcohol absorbing food in the world. With fries. They're home by 7. The cleaning corps come out during the day, wash down the streets of vomit before the late sleeping not quite so heavy drinking tourists wake up. Then, on Saturday, it begins anew. Is this a great country or what?
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