When I was growing up in Iceland this was one of my favorite times of year. Starting with Bolludagur or Cream Puff Day, which was this Monday. We start the day by waking our parents and any other adults in the house, by banging on their duvet with a long stick, and counting the number of blows we could get, each blow meant another Cream Puff for us. This stick was made by us days before, out of a long piece of wood and decorated with strips of crepe paper in multitude of colors.
Sprengjdagur or Eat until you explode day, was Tuesday. That day the menu consisted Salt Kjot and Baunir, a stew made out of salted lamb, yellow peas, potatoes, turnips, and in my family Sod Kokur a big dumpling like cakes made from four and water. I, as a child, loved this meal and still do.......it is on my wish list when I go to Iceland for a visit, my Uncle Eirik always makes it for me.
Then came my all time favorite day Oskudagur or Ash Wednesday. There are new customs that have evolved over the years, however, when I was growing up, it was the day we...the girls....tried to hang a bag filled with ashes on every male we could find. Days before we made our bags out of scraps of fabric that we had been collecting all year long. The bags were a simple construction that we hand stitched then added a long string with a bent straight pin on the end. They told the story of the what fabrics had been used for each member of the family, much like a quilt would. My Mother has a cousin who was a seamstress and made all our dresses, I would collect the scraps of fabric left over. We made our bags in our Sewing Club, where we talked about who was going to get each bag and how we were going to hang it on their back. The boys we had a crush on got the most beautiful bags. Planing was important as the men made it hard for us to hang bags on them. They would wear Rain Slickers or Trench Coats that were impossible to hang a bag on, it was important to get the men in our household before they could put their coat on.
One of the most memorable Ash Wednesdays for me, was when there was a man who visited the Book Store, where my Mother was working. He was from a foreign country and was oblivious to the fact that on the back of his Wool Coat were numerous bags. He smiled on each child as they were hovering around him laughing, pointing, and slapping each other on the back, at this point the boys had joined us in the fun. No doubt he was thinking how happy and friendly the children of Iceland were. By the time he left the Book Store he must have had over thirty bags on his back. As an adult, I imagine his surprise as he took of his coat back at his hotel, to discover these colorful little bags filled with ashes. I know I would have been delighted to make such a discovery