The smell of coal in the air might just mean we arrived here a bit too soon. That said, had we waited a week we would not be here at all given the mess the volcano in Iceland has created. Blind luck, that was, choosing to fly a week and a half ago rather than a week ago. At first I thought someone had spilled some of what I like to call telephone pole scotch somewhere near the entryway, but then I realized it was the smell of burning coal. And as I sit here looking out the window there's smoke coming out of quite a few chimneys.
The folks in town are so warm and friendly it's more than making up for the high of 46 degrees today. Want something on the dinner menu for lunch? Let me ask the chef, no problem. Need a larger size of something from one of the shops? Came after me as I was leaving to tell me they will happily order it for me. Need to post something on the town bulletin board? Will print up and post a note on it for us for small donation to the charity box. Not a surly attitude in the bunch. Well, there was the delivery man grousing about the lack of a street sign, but he must have been from someplace else.
Am I living in fantasyland? A bit. But I did have to scrub toilets and do laundry over the weekend, so not entirely. And don't even get me started on the laundry!