Iceland: Hiding the Bodies (of the “murder mysteries and me” series)

MURDER IN ICELAND

Bob, Teresa and I spent a week in Iceland last summer. We fell in love with this odd and lovely island that still sees Vikings around every corner; is cold and windy and gray but NOT covered in ice; and feeds its visitors fermented shark.

Since Iceland is so picturesque AND because I have so many photos I am hoping to stretch my little essays over several days—off and on/now and then.

To begin exploring murder most northern, it seemed like a photo essay investigating the many places where victims could be cleverly concealed would be appropriate. You see we were there and, while we didn’t find any actual bludgeoned bodies or icy eyeballs we did go on a mystery writers tour which took us to various locations featured in Icelandic crime novels. I am sorry to report that what is a brilliant idea came off as earnest and uninspiring. The two well-mannered young women guiding the walk just could not manage any vicious vibes so we soon went off to have a nice Icelandic beer. I do hope that the suggestions of foul play accompanying the photos that follow will make you a little more leery of Reykjavik’s dark and shadowy corners than what our pretty tour guides could manage.

You can rest assured that Iceland does indeed support several interesting murder mystery writers so if you enjoy the deceptively cozy scenes that follow or the gloomy landscapes full of deadly potential in days to come, know that you can spend many book-hours deep within these often lethal nooks and crannies.

You can see from these Viking forebears of today's Icelanders that death and destruction were never far away.

You can see from these Viking forebears of today’s Icelanders that death and destruction were never far away.

No Viking sissies...

Aahhh! That old Viking beheading tradition.

You do eventually go mad if you're locked in long enough and start chewing on Uncle Lars' shinbone.

You do eventually go mad if you’re locked in long enough and you start chewing on Uncle Lars’ shinbone.

Ghosts are everywhere, carrying out god-knows-what dasterdly deeds.

Ghosts are everywhere, carrying out god-knows-what dasterdly deeds.

One shudders to think...

One shudders to think…

Plotting, always plotting.

Plotting, always plotting.

There is a story to tell here...maybe best not to know?

There is a story to tell here…maybe best not to know?

Fourth house from the left is where they found the third body.

Fourth house from the left is where they found the third body.

Hey, the clerk didn't know what she was selling him was going to be used to poison his girlfriend!

Hey, the clerk didn’t know what she was selling him was going to be used to poison his girlfriend!

Who knew such criminality could lurk just beneath these pretty painted surfaces?

Who knew such criminality could lurk just beneath these pretty painted surfaces?

Be very careful. You never know what evil lurks right behind you or right ahead of you...they always seem so friendly!

Be very careful. You never know what evil lurks right behind you or right ahead of you…they always seem so friendly!

Rumor has it that there is a cult-of-dried-fish; they spread butter all over their bodies and on the fish and dance around fields of dandelions lit only by the northern lights.

Rumor has it that there is a cult-of-dried-fish; they spread butter all over their bodies and on the fish and dance around fields of dandelions lit only by the northern lights.

You'll notice that by the next morning there will be freshly laid beds of the pretty yellow flower that seem to be covering...graves?

When they found her she was clad only in the lime-green and magenta plaid tights.

When they found her she was clad only in the lime-green and magenta plaid tights.

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About mneset

Writer, Traveler, Director/North Fourth Art Center

Posted on July 11, 2013, in Living LIFE and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. I would imagine that living in Iceland could make you either very happy or mad. Mad enough to murder. Personally, I would go mad about half way through an Icelandic winter.

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