family

Do you spend time with your family? Good. Because a man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man

The famous Don Corleone quote has never rung more true for me. Just returned from a whirlwind trip to Reykjavik, Iceland where I:

a) spent lots of quality time with my daughters and my new grandson
b) played a show at the cozy Cafe Kultura with Thorir Johansson on bass and local violin whizz, Dan Cassidy
c) attended countless family get-togethers, both on my side and my wife's side
d) ate great fish
e) marveled at the vistas of foamy seas, majestic mountains, lava covered cliffs and bubbly hot springs
f) sampled delicious icelandic hot dogs daily (oy vey!)
g) froze my butt off in the Icelandic "spring" (hehehehe)

The trip up to Iceland only takes a little over four hours from Boston but the layover in Boston (both ways) is exhausting. Upon arrival at the airport in Keflavik (about a 40 minute drive from the capital), we were greeted by my daughters, my grandson and gale force northerly winds that immediately transported us from a mild Toronto spring right back into February. The air, though, is marvelous up there, so dense you can feel it cleanse your lungs.

We arrived at my wife's friend's (Linda) house a little after 8am (4am in our heads), blearey-eyed and hungry. Managed to sleep about three hours in a cozy bedroom that Linda had prepared for us: pristine sheets and the window open just a crack to let in some of that bracing northern air. After a short rest we started our packed schedule. My wife had to visit every single member of her family (there are about 150 of them) and I wanted to spend lots of quality time with my girls, so she (wife) and I pretty much stuck to separate schedules right through the trip.

I travel to Iceland often and find it difficult to describe it adequately. Most people think of igloos and permafrost when in fact Iceland, while definitely not a warm place, has less snow and less frost than New York. It does, however, have those gale force winds pretty much all the time. Icelandic people are very hard working, very ingenious and they have managed not just to carve out a living for themselves on their bleak northern rock but to build one of the highest standards of living anywhere. The streets are full of chic chicks and elegant gents. People drive new cars and clamour after all the lates gadgets (every household I visited has a router and wireless internet, everybody has a slew of cell phones etc...)

My concert went very well, though I was sorely disappointed that no-one from the Candian Embassy deigned to attend despite their promise that they would. I would have thought it was incumbent upon them to show support for a visiting Canadian artist. Dan Cassidy, originally from Washington, D.C. and the brother of the late, great Eva Cassidy, has been living in Iceland for many years. He is a first rate violinist who feels at home in swing as well as in Irish folk music. His tone and attack are unbelievably clean and his improvisations superb. Additionally, he has perfect pitch and is a strict taskmaster when it comes to everybody in the band being in tune. Our bass player, Thorir Johansson, plays with the Iceland Symphony and has chops to spare, plus solid swing. Couldn't ask for more. The small audience (about 25 people - which completely filled the small coffee house) loved the show and I was able to sell some CD's as well. Kudos and thanks to Barbara Kristvinsson of the International House in Reykjavik who put the show together.

The trip back was uneventful, though quite exhausting. On our stopover in Boston I allowed myself a long-forgotten indulgence. We plopped ourselves down at an airport bar and ordered chicken burgers with fries and a beer. I can't remember the last time I had fries...boy, it was SO delicious! The flight from Logan to Pearson was one of the most bumpy and unpleasant rides in a long time. We flew in one of the new, small Embrear jets...the Air Canada service was indifferent (that's a compliment) and the captain didn't say a single word throughout the 1.5 hour roller coaster ride, even at moments when the plane felt like it was coming apart, creaking, heaving, pitching and tumbling through the air. At such moments, the captain's words are always comforting. Made it home and then...instead of hitting the sack I still spent an hour on the net, looking at all the pics of my grandson that my daughter had posted on his website. Only slept about three hours.

Later today the rigmarole begins anew: Hugo comes home, I resume my gig schedule and soon this trip will fade into memory. Such is life. But family....family is really the only thing there is. Nothing else counts. Adios!