The Beauty and Grace of Icelandic Horses

Ahh yes, the Icelandic Horse. Famed for their beauty, their charm and their long-flowing majestic Fabio-esque locks. For years I’ve seen dramatic photos of Iceland’s famed horses cutting the most perfect poses. At times they’d feature wild eyes and a raw untamed beauty which seemed to practically whisper “Iceland”. Other photos feature raven colored locks blown by the wind and snow that would surely put even Jon Snow to shame. Though, one can’t muse on Jon Snow’s obsidian locks without also paying homage to the rugged feminine beauty of Ygritte, but she too faces the most flattering of challengers in the bonfire-lit-beauty of many a native Icelandic horse’s flowing ginger mane.

The only problem was…when I got to Iceland, I seemed to find their B team. Who knows, perhaps the others had all been called to the East to film the final two seasons of Game of Thrones. Or, perhaps I just caught them celebrating having survived the final battle in Season 6th. Either way…these were MY Icelandic horses. Crazy beautiful? Or just crazy. I’ll let you decide.

Icelandic Horses - Snæfellsnes Peninsula
The inbred great grandson of Mr. Ed?

Icelandic Horses - Snæfellsnes Peninsula

Someone forgot to call?

Turning 31 – Reflections on Confidence and Relationships

Over the past few years a tradition of sorts has arisen. To celebrate my birthday, I sit down, put on my thinking cap, and ramble a bit about some of the things I’ve learned over the previous year. Sometimes these are musings still being digested, other times topics I’m more thoroughly confident about. Regardless, today I celebrate turning 31 and in honor of the occasion have focused on two topics. In some ways the two are complimentary. In others ways they’re worlds apart. I hope you’ll enjoy the musings and take them for what they are – just reflections and an attempt to share the world as I see it and how I relate to it. You can see my more detailed 30th birthday post here, my musings on turning 29 here, or 28 here. This year I also stumbled upon a long-forgotten blog post written on my 23 birthday (yeah, I’ve been blogging that long) which you can view here.

Flower Patch

Social Discomfort

A couple of years ago I had a realization. As I sat with several friends, on multiple occasions, we’d arrive in a situation where they were uncomfortable. Before long, they’d get antsy and comments would start to flow. Often it was about the people present, or aspects of the venue. Perhaps the people were too young, or too naive, or acting too embarrassingly American (in several instances it was young college students on their first exchange). In other situations the beer was too warm, or the venue had failed in some utterly trivial and minor but nevertheless comment worthy way.  Visualize the hipster that ends up in a trendy club and is utterly out of place, or the posh southern socialite who ends up in a grungy dive bar. Picture the polished model who regularly is at ease and comfortable in fancy cocktail bars ending up in a grungy little bodega that only serves beer and bitters.

In these instances their comments were often somewhat embarrassing, in no small part because they’re typically made fairly loudly or at the expense of those nearby. That sense of surprise though also got me to monitor my own behavior and, sure enough, I started to discover I had the same coping mechanism. I also suspect it’s a mechanism that is particularly prevalent within academics as it’s often the easiest and safest defense mechanism for discomfort. Ultimately though, it’s also something all of us do and on a fairly regular basis. Those that are best at conquering the impulse, are those that also seem to be exceptional at integrating into foreign cultures such as the photographer who magically befriends locals or the social butterfly that drifts effortlessly from group to group.