By “misunderstanding centuries”, what I mean is misunderstanding the periods of time that a particular century refers to. For the longest time – probably a good 7 or 8 years, from the time I was 12 or 13 up until a few years ago – I thought that, for example, “13th century” referred to the years 1301-1400. It seemed like a logical assumption at the time – the 13th century starts with 1300. The 12th century starts with 1200, the 10th with 1000. Except… when you roll back the clock to the time period of 1AD to 100AD… well, oops. If “the first century” were to be 100-200AD, what would 1-100AD be? The 0th century?

In my defense¹, for a long while, I didn’t study any history earlier than the 8th century (i.e., 793AD, the first recorded Viking raid). I tended to have a pretty narrow field of vision when it came to history, and felt that “that other stuff” didn’t interest me. The more I learn about history, though, the more I find that it all interests me. I don’t recall what it was I was reading when I finally ran into my blunder.

The ultimate question, though? How in the world did I read about medieval history for years, and not pick up on the fact that when an author was writing about, say, the 12th century, that all of the dates were 11-something? I’ve no idea. For that matter, I know I read at one point or another – probably multiple times, in truth! – that the first Viking raid was at the end of the 8th century. Why did it never click? Thick skull, I suppose. Even to this day, I’ll occasionally read “in the such-and-such century”, and have to pause and think – okay, that would mean it ended with that number, not the other way around.

Oh well. My secret’s out now. At least I now know there are at least two other people who have the concept borked up. Any others want to admit to it?

1. As much of a defense as I can muster up, anyway. It’s pretty bad for someone who’s majoring in history to admit to this, isn’t it?

The city is expensive and makes many demands; I have to rent lodgings, buy necessities, and provide for many other things that I cannot specify. Therefore I beg your paternity that by the prompting of divine pity you may assist me, so that I may be able to complete what I have so well begun.

As the author of the text remarks, that has quite a modern ring to it. It’s almost a little too similar to emails college kids might send their parents these days, begging for more ramen noodles and gas money.

The book also includes a father’s response to his son:

I have recently learned that you live dissolutely, preferring play to work, and strumming your guitar while others are at their studies.

Heh. I guess some things never really change. It’s probably more likely, however, that a modern father’s response would charge the offspring with spending his or her time partying or playing Xbox rather than strumming a guitar.

When a dead whale was found like this, how were the pieces of meat and blubber stored? The Saga of Gudmund the Worthy provides some information. It mentions that after a long stand-off, a chieftain rewarded the men who had stood by him by opening his brother’s whale storage pits [hvalgrafir]. He gave each man three loads of whale meat, which they carried home with them. In such pits the meat and blubber fermented, a form of preservation. In a similar manner, Icelanders down to modern times preserve and eat rotten shark and skate fermented in their own juices, the process benefiting from the ammonia found in the urine.

Erm… yuck? So, they take rotten shark meat, and then place it in a vat so it can be preserved by its own ‘juices’, including its urine. I try to be fairly open-minded about food, and I’m usually willing to try anything once, but… rotten shark meat preserved in its own ‘juices’? No thanks.

Technorati Tags: food, iceland, icelandic

Furthermore, all of the music is totally free. You can download it as well as distribute it.

All of the music (that I’ve thus far listened to, anyway) has been totally instrumental, so if you’re looking for some new music to write / study to, here you go.