as good as it gets

Three days ago Ben and I arrived in the Faroe Islands, a semi-autonomous nation of 18 islands, pop. 48,317. It is located 193 miles north of Scotland in the Atlantic Ocean, and kept from being a frozen mass by virtue of the warming Gulf Stream. I had high expectations of the natural beauty here, and I have not been disappointed. Grass-covered mountains leap out of the ocean, their surfaces textured by dark volcanic rock and waterfalls that shine in the sun. The weather changes quickly, and it is often misty. Think Lord of the Rings + Ireland + ruggedness = weight of myth, natural beauty and history. From my kitchen window I can see hardy brown sheep grazing on the hills, and from the dining room table I can see puffins perched on the ocean rocks. I cannot decide which I like best. We are here for at least a year to learn the language and decide what is next, but especially to spend time with Ben’s extended family. His cousin and uncle met us at the airport and took us to a surprise welcome party thrown by the entire clan. I did not know what was happening until a group of unknown children, who later turned out to be second-cousins, started handing me Gerbera daisies. It was a beautiful evening. If I had handpicked a family, I couldn’t have found a group of people more diverse, faithful, interesting and anxious to make us comfortable. Ben had talked with me very little about his Faroese relatives, and I was surprised at how much they reminded me of my own family. The first event of the night was a dinner where numerous Faroese specialties were presented for me to try: fried fish balls, air-dried mutton, and smoked salmon with dill sauce (one of Ben’s all-time favorite dishes). After dinner everyone bundled up and took Ben and me on a walk around the village, braving the cold rain and wind. As the guests of honor we were loaned the best coats in the group. The highlights of the walk for me were the little ones in wellies running across the green grass, and cousin Johnny keeping his daughter’s marmalade kitten warm inside his coat. The night finished with singing in both English and Faroese, dessert, coffee and warm welcomes. By the end of the celebration I was getting pretty savvy with the names of the aunts, uncles and cousins, but the young second-cousins’ names will have to come later. For the rest of the month Ben and I are staying in the lovely summer home of a distant relative, but by the first of November we will be settled in the basement apartment across the bay. Right now my head is spinning from expectations I have put on myself to learn the language, get my immigration papers processed, make friends, find useful employment and create a welcoming home on a shoestring budget. This is as good as it gets.