Last night, we went to Opening Ceremonies for Iceland Gay Pride.  We awoke relatively late (1100-ish) to a rainy day in Reykjavik.  Patrick’s cold went from small to drenching the bed sheets, and so it was up to Jeff and I to do the grocery shopping for the day.  We were also charged with finding the VIP passes that we had reserved online.  During the planning phase of this trip, Jeff and Patrick decided it would be easier to purchase passes to allow us access into all of the main Pride events without having to carry cash.  Sound enough in principal.  I also knew that sending Jeff and I out together would allow us to achieve a detente from the events of yesterday.  So we grabbed our book bags and headed out into the misty weather.

Jeff and I agreed that we would grab the VIP passes first.  Patrick and Jeff had guessed that the passes would be at Barbara, based on the fact that it was the “official” club of Pride.  A quick trip into the very quiet bar revealed that, no, it was not, but we were directed to the right place: the basement of Mikli.  In hindsight, this was the second most natural location at which it could be.  After all, it had a picture of Pall Oskar wearing a shirt saying “Dirty Queer.”  So we headed into the basement, and were attended to by a wonderfully cheerful Scottish woman who had immigrated to Iceland 9 years ago.  Once she had confirmed that our names were on the list, she proceeded to hand over our Pride goodie bags.  We were also able to select a t-shirt from a couple of different styles and colors.  I grabbed a white one for Patrick and a black one for myself.  The goodie bags contained a boa and a wrist rubber wrist bracelet (think: LIVE STRONG), as well as a Pride program.  It wasn’t exactly the most extravagant bag of stuff, but it was a nice gesture.

From the basement of Mikli, Jeff wanted to go to 66 North to buy a knit hat.  I think that he wanted to wear it on a glacier tour.  So we headed over to the store.  Once we were there, I felt vindicated when Jeff also considered buying a jacket.  He has called my new Askja Light Jacket a “sweatshirt” on more than one occasion.  So we selected for him a nice blue jacket along with an orange and grey knit hat.  We also discovered that you can buy 66 North t-shirts, so I picked up one for Patrick and Jeff got one for himself.  I wanted one, but they didn’t have my size.  I hoping that when we go back they will have one in my size (so that I too can have a t-shirt that reads “Surving at 66 North” or something similar).

After 66 North, we attempted to once again locate the equivalent of Sudafed.  Icelandic pharmacies are, apparently, a little bit different then ours.  While ours are filled with tools of self-help and healing (read: pills), these pharmacies seemed mostly concerned with carrying a wide range of beauty supplies and liquid soaps.  I have to note that one of the things that strikes me about Iceland is the paucity of bar soap.  Our wonderful hosts at Apartment K provided us with a body soap called “Neutral,” to which I have the reaction of “Mildly Dislike.”  The stuff is an insipid, scentless gel with little cleaning power.  Now, I’m not against shower gels or neutrally scented products.  I’ve taken showers with chickpea flower when I was studying basic Ayurvedic remedies.  But this stuff just simply doesn’t get you clean (it doesn’t make you more dirty, either, which might be it’s intended effect).  I guess I should also note that, since we don’t have a loofah or a supply of washclothes, shower gel doesn’t work that well.  Note for next overseas trip: pack bar soap or a loofah.  Probably a loofah, since it doesn’t add to the weight limit!

When we asked at the counter for a nasal decongestant, we were given the option of buying a spray or a chest application.  Neither were what Jeff or Patrick wanted (or would want), so we left.  We then stopped in the natural food store, where I picked up some Yogi Teas that were designed to alleviate the suffering associated with illness.  The interesting thing about the store was that it was pretty much like any other health food store I’ve ever been in.  It’s good to know that, even internationally, natural healing stores look exactly the same.  (And pretty much cost the same — a woman in the queue spent something like 10,000 ISK on a selection of items that fit into a small brown bag)

Since we had far more packages than we expected and we had not yet been to the store, we headed back to the apartment.  My poor darling was in bed, still sweating out his fever.  Fortunately, he was starting to feel better, so we decided to head out to shop together, and grab some lunch.  I was in charge of selection, so we stopped in a Scandinavian restaurant, figuring that this would be the first time we would actually eat in a vaguely Icelandic eatery.  I ended up having a delicious sherry mushroom soup and a chicken sandwich with french fries (very Icelandic).  Afterward, we ended over to my favorite cafe for hot chocolate, and then started to make our way back towards Bonus.  We stopped in Dogma, because I wanted to get a “Eg tala ekki islensku” (“I don’t speak Icelandic”) t-shirt.  They also had some pretty racy t-shirts, one of which was so over the top that, although I laughed, I could never wear in the United States.  Let’s just say it involves choosing a vowel to finish a word, and the correct answer is “Nagger.”

We finally made it to the supermarket, were we stocked up on provisions.  We now have no reason to eat out for the remainder of the trip.  Well, not really, but we do have quite a bit of food.  We picked up hot dogs, an Icelandic mainstay.  We also found crunchy friend onions, which are a common topping on hot dogs.  After finishing our shopping, we headed back to apartment.  I forget what time it was, but I think we were once again pushing 1600 or so.  It might have been later.  All I remember of the intervening period was doing some reading and editing while Jeff and Patrick disco napped.  Patrick was feeling very tired, so I am glad he got the time.  I woke them up at 1845, since we needed to be at Pride by 2000.  The only hurdle to overcome was getting a taxi, but thanks to Skype, that was quickly handled.  So at 1945 we were off to the party!

We arrived at the theater.  In the few Pride events that I’ve attended, I’ve only ever gone to the pre-party (San Francisco), the parade (again, San Francisco), or the community event afterwards (San Francisco and Sacramento).  But I’ve never gone to an “opening ceremony.”  We grabbed drinks at the bar and headed into the theater.  It was festively decorated with pride flags, and was clearly set up for musical performances.  Eventually, the lights dimmed, and a man with a guitar took the stage.  He started playing, and everyone immediately recognized “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.”  A cheer rose from the crowd, as the man’s voiced floated over the applause.  He made his way through the song, slowly and beautifully, and the crowd erupted in applause.  (I realized later that this man was Bubbi Morthens, who is evidently an incredibly well-known and respected Icelandic artist)  He then began to speak in Icelandic, at which point I could only sit pack and enjoy the gentle cadence of the language, and the next two songs.

After Bubbi left the stage, a man and a woman took the stage.  They were the MCs, Viggo and Violetta.  Viggo was dressed in a white suit with flamboyant eye make-up, and Violetta was dressed in a cute white dress that looked positively “Sound of Music”-esque.  Viggo immediately launched into something in Icelandic, but Violetta quickly followed up with English (thank goodness!).  It was totally hammy and over the top.  After a brief introduction, they began a musical routine that was just INSANE!  It started off with something like, “You’ve all heard of Cinderella, who find her prince.  But that’s not my story.  I’m a FAG HAG…”  It just went off from there.  All I can say is that it included snippets from various musicals, involved Viggo taking off his clothes to reveal a leather outfit worthy of “Rocky Horror” and a double headed dildo wielded by Violetta to attempt to get Viggo to live with her “somewhere that’s green.”

After this rousing performance, the Director of Pride took the stage.  A distinguished, middle-aged man wrapped in a huge Pride boa, began in Icelandic, briefly switched to English, and then proceeded to make a speech in Icelandic.  I was almost brought to tears when he spoke in English.  Without remembering the exact wording, he began by pointing out that gay rights was a human rights issue, and that the essential question was the right of all people to dignity.  How different that is from our perspective in the United States.  In the US, gay rights is first and foremost a religious issue.  Any question of the rights of gay people to have the same rights as heterosexuals in inextricably tied to the fact that the Bible, Koran, Torah, etc. considers it a sin.  Although we propose a separation of church and state, the church as insinuated itself into the politics du jour.  In Europe–or Iceland at the very least–the issue of gay rights begins with the foundational concept that all people have a right to their dignity and part of dignity is the right to have intimate partnership in this life.

It was at this moment, listening to this man talk about gay rights as human rights, that I realized two things.  One, that I would gladly live in a place where this was true.  Second, for that very reason, I needed to be more diligent in acting in my own country for the human rights, including equality for gays and gay couples.

The show proceeded on, including a performance by the Creamgirls, a duo from Norway.  They came out in black face, and proceeded to lip synch their way through Donna Summers, Tina Turner, Grace Jones, and a hilarious skit with Whitney Houston and Macy Gray as a coked out mess.  They were, to quote Christian from Project Runway, hot tranny mess.  At the end of their performance, one of them said, “And I give up my pussy for free to all you lesbians.”  Hot.

After an intermission, we came back for Pall Oskar’s performance.  What to say about Pall Oskar?  First off, he is the cat’s meow in Iceland, a well known singer and DJ.  He had been in the business since 1993, I believe.  His music is all over the map in terms of style and genre.  And he’s very cute, in a boyishly Scandanavian way.  He was introduced by Viggo and Violetto with a great deal of hooting and hollering from the crowd.  Pall took the stage dressed in a sparkly rhinestone outfit that we later dubbed a mix between Liberace and Neil Diamond.  He immediately launched into music that was obviously well-known to the crowd.  As it was all in Icelandic, we could only, as they say, go with it.  And go with it we did.  We shouted, we clapped, we grooved in our seats and on our feet.  He performed several up tempo numbers before bringing the energy down a bit with a harpist, singing an English version of Charles Aznavour’s Comme Ils Disent (“What Makes a Man a Man?”).  The energy picked up for the end, and we danced in our seats to Eurodisco mania.

The rest of the night involved coming back to our apartment for two hot dogs a piece (with onions!), and heading back out to Barbara, the official club of Gay Pride.  Patrick and I bailed early, grabbing pizza and having some heart to heart time before crashing into bed at the earliest time yet for us (0100).  The abrupt awakening this morning will need to wait for another post.