I'm becoming a mad blogger, always posting entries. But when there are rainshowers in the afternoon it's ideal to seek shelter at the nearest internet café and wait there until it stops raining.

I called home yesterday and I think my Icelandic vocabulary has narrowed down to about 500 words. I couldn't for the life of me remember some words. I was, for a reason I'm not listing here, talking about my backpack and searched for the word for "the thingy... the gizmo... you know, the thing you put over your shoulders... the thingummy..." "You mean the strap?" "Yes, strap!" That's the word. And strap in Icelandic is ól. Words don't get more simple than that. But this always happens when I'm away from home for a while, when I come home it takes a few days of wrong declension and conjugation, anwering in English or switching over to English in the middle of a sentence and then I get back to normal.

Similar thing happened to me when in Tilcara, in northwest Argentina. An Argentine guy spoke to me in Spanish and asked where I was from. When I told him I was from Iceland he started speaking to me in Swedish and I understood everything he said and should have been able to answer in Danish, or at least some amateurish Scandinavian mix of languages, but I couldn't. My filing system froze and I answered in English, which didn't make any sense, the guy hardly spoke any English. Which is why he picked up Swdish pretty quickly when he lived there. This was not one of my Mensa moments.

And speaking of Mensa; a three year old kid from Leeds joined the UK branch of Mensa recently. What kind of life will it be if you join Mensa at the age of three? Goodbye to toycars and teddybears, hello to very mentally stimulating tricky toys only? I'd like to meet the kid in 30 years or so and see how he's turned out. Interesting indeed.

It has stopped raining.