Even During The Last Days Of My Stay, I Could
Read Until Half-Past Ten O'clock.
At first it appeared strange to
me to go to bed in broad daylight; but I soon accustomed myself to
it, and when eleven o'clock came, no sunlight was powerful enough to
cheat me of my sleep.
I found much pleasure in walking at night, at
past ten o'clock, not in the pale moonshine, but in the broad blaze
of the sun.
It was a much more difficult task to accustom myself to the diet.
The baker's wife was fully competent to superintend the cooking
according to the Danish and Icelandic schools of the art; but
unfortunately these modes of cookery differ widely from ours. One
thing only was good, the morning cup of coffee with cream, with
which the most accomplished gourmand could have found no fault:
since my departure from Iceland I have not found such coffee. I
could have wished for some of my dear Viennese friends to breakfast
with me. The cream was so thick, that I at first thought my hostess
had misunderstood me, and brought me curds. The butter made from
the milk of Icelandic cows and ewes did not look very inviting, and
was as white as lard, but the taste was good. The Icelanders,
however, find the taste not sufficiently "piquant," and generally
qualify it with train-oil. Altogether, train-oil plays a very
prominent part in the Icelandic kitchen; the peasant considers it a
most delicious article, and thinks nothing of devouring a quantity
of it without bread, or indeed any thing else.
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