Smoky Bay

Greetings from Reykjavik, capital of Iceland!

Josh (my boyfriend) and I arrived bright and early at 7 am on Sunday morning at the Keflavik airport.  This airport, which is just southwest of the capital, receives 95% of the traffic into the country.  The other 5% flies into the Reykjavik airport, a tiny little airport that provides a constant supply of small planes overhead throughout the day as you meander the side streets.  Why might this airport distinction be important? Because we had to take a bus into the city proper, and there our adventure begins.

We had booked FlyBus tickets into Reykjavik, as is customary (according to every travel book, forum, and blog ever).  We loaded up our bags and paused to admire the sunrise coming over the mountain ridge and casting rays along the rather rugged, flat Icelandic landscape.  Apparently we paused a moment too long, because we saw the bus begin to pull out of the lot and - as we chased it in vain - drive straight to the city.  Luckily, Iceland is a small country with relatively little crime, so the SOS BAGS ON BUS message was quickly relayed to the driver and our bags were waiting for us at our drop-off point, the BSI bus station, when we arrived on the next shuttle.  Not the best start, but we continued on undeterred.

To give you a sense of what Iceland looks like, picture a snickerdoodle that sat too long in the over, becoming brown and cracked.  Then cast chunks of volcanic rock, porous and deep black, over the jagged cracks and soften the picture with muted green lichen and moss.  Add snow-covered mountains, often flat-topped and blurred by cloud cover, as a border along the horizon.  Welcome to Iceland.

Reykjavik, on the other had, has a completely different feel.  Gone are the vast expanses cut by a thread of winding pavement and that favorite European traffic pattern - the roundabout.  In its place are a series of small buildings with highly colorful roofs but, except in a few hip neighborhoods, a rather austere and minimalist design.  The entire city stretches wide and large on a map but, within about 30 minutes, Josh and I realized that this city had a case of Venice syndrome and seemingly large distances could be covered in the span of 10 minutes.

The city seemed deserted upon our arrival as we walked among the statues bordering Tjörnin (the central lake), but we quickly realized that was because it was 8 am on a Sunday morning.  We ducked into Bergsson Mathús for breakfast and enjoyed homemade jams, bread, eggs, meats, and cheeses.  Afterward, we lounged we tea and pastries (and wifi) as we waited until check-in time.  I began to read Jules Verne's Journey to the Center of the Earth, which takes place in Iceland.  Great decision.  It was a good way to start a vacation.

Once we were able to drop off our bags, we roamed the city freely.  We started at the Kolaportid Flea Market, which takes place in a giant warehouse on Saturdays and Sundays.  The flea market was a fairly quiet affair, which surprised me.  The stalls were very casually staffed and there was none of the aggressive haggling that I have come to expect.  Nobody even asked you to step into their shop.  The only stall of interest to me was one selling vintage leather jackets, but once I realized that the woman was citing prices around $200 instead of $20 for the worn item, I lost interest and became more careful about applying the exchange rate.

We whiled away the early afternoon by stopping at City Hall to see the 3D map (couldn't find it) and then stopped by the famous Baejarins Betzu Pylsur, a simple hotdog stand that has has numerous famous international guests.  We stopped to try it, got it with "everything" as was recommended, and took a bite.  

It was a so-so hot dog covered in two sauces - one mayonnaise-based and the other brown and sweet- resting on a toasted bread bun and a bed of crunchy onion bits.  I thought the onion bits were a tasty touch but was not a fan, although Josh quite enjoyed his.  Judging by the crowd there at every hour, others apparently do, too.

To round out the afternoon, we stopped by the National Photography Museum (which showcased the work of unappreciated female photographers in the current exhibit) and the National Art Gallery, where we appreciated abstract art and collage works 

before making our way to the lower level and making our own collages for display.  Sadly, we were trumped by one prolific 8-year old artist who covered almost an entire wall by himself.  His best work is shown below.

For dinner, we stopped at The Sea Baron, a seafood restaurant on the water whose menu is a freezer filled with the various seafood you can order.  We had done our research and got their specialty, the steaming bowls of lobster soup served with plates of warm French bread.  We also got a few bits of cooked whale meat to try.  Sitting at long benches with other diners, we dug into our soup (delicious) and tried whale for the first time.  It was very seasoned and salty, and more than a little chewy, but it went down fine.  I think we were both glad that we had opted for the soup instead of the full whale steaks.  That soup could probably tempt me back to Iceland.

A few bits of whale meat, to taste

Giving in to jet lag, we collapsed into bed for the evening and watched a bit of The Secret Life of Walter Mitty to fully immerse ourselves in our Iceland adventure.  Movies, books, walks in the streets - we take our adventures very seriously.

Spotted: on many of the highways, Iceland only has lighting on one side.  Maybe most people are driving one direction in the evenings?

Spotted #2: Trolls! Icelanders love 'em, believe in 'em, and have giant figures of 'em in public!