Þórður Thómasson is the founder of the Skógar Museum. Well in his 80's, he has not let age slow him down. He's one of those people whom you can sense has an unquenchable ember of life glowing within his spirit. Here, he was playing a langspil (a two stringed instrument, one string being a drone). Later, he demonstrated how to spin Icelandic wool and horsehair by hand. What I appreciated about this museum was that things were not behind glass, and in many cases the guide or Þórður would pick up an object and demonstrate how it functioned.

While the group was meandering from one room of the next, Þórður snuck up next to me and asked, in his heavy accent, "Are you also from Denmark?" referring to another family he was speaking to earlier.

"No, the United States," I told him.

"Oh! You look Icelandic. Do you have any Icelandic in your blood?" he asked.

"Not that I know of," I admitted, somewhat disappointed. "I'm Polish; does that help?"

He looked off in the distance, as if trying hard to think of some connection to Poland. Nothing came to him, though. "What is your name?" he asked.

"Brendan. Its an Irish name," I added.

"Ah! We can trace our roots to Ireland." His eyes sparkled with satisfaction, and then he slyly slipped me a brochure about the museum, saying quietly, "Here...put this in your pocket; show it to your family."