Most of the music-viewing kind of looked and felt like this:
Considering portraits of modestly successful Indie musicians are dull even when they're NOT taken from the back of the venue, I'll spare you those, and give you instead these photos of a rave on the moon.
Every year the Blue Lagoon hosts a dance/hangover party on Saturday - they bus you out from Reykjavik about 45 minutes to this spa facility. It's pretty much just for the tourists, but whatever.
The air was probably in the mid-30s, and the water was bath-warm but not hot. Deirdre says it's the only place you can get pregnant without having intercourse. It doesn't help that the mud at the bottom is this white, slimy silt.
Here she is, pondering immaculate conception:
Everyone was friendly...
...in a weird kind of Burning Man way, if Burning Man was high on arctic circle air and Viking beer instead of idiotic legwear.
DJ Margeir was spinning housey stuff. It was ok - coulda done with maybe a little rock or hip hop, but the only move you could do in the water, really, was to jump up and down. Jay-Z probably would've just lead to confusion.
You had to get out of the water to get beer, which seemed somewhat sadistic of the planners.
By the end you were treading on plastic cups, but I don't want to sound like a hater (as per usual). It was nice and surreal.
