Iceland! (Even Closer to Björk!)

After a 4:30 am wake up call and a 5:00 ride to the airport through virtually deserted streets, the trip to London (Gatwick this time) was relatively easy and painless. Transferring to the international flight to Iceland, however, took some doing as the airport was busy, the security measures somewhat different than the US, and negotiating the terminal, while easier than Heathrow, was nonetheless a challenge.

After all that, we landed in Iceland near dusk. The airport is 45 kilometers from the city and getting there was pure chaos.

Our bus was packed from all the recent arrivals, perhaps 100 people or so with at least two bags each. We were transported to the central bus station of this company, Flybus, and switched to smaller coaches for transport to lodging.

Drivers simply shouted out hotel names and folks scuttled to their waiting coach presuming that they could understand what was being said. Our hotel, Thingholt (oh dear, more unique letters), rather ƥingholt, sits in the central business district on incredibly narrow brick-paved streets. Dodging traffic, pedestrians and parked cars we wove our way carefully through the cacophony that is Rejkavik and eventually found our way to our lodging.

Everything about the city, the people, the transportation system, the lodging (here is a view out our hotel room window) was quirky and unique.

Hungry after a long day we were pleasantly surprised to find a seven course 'tasting menu' at the hotel's restaurant. Better yet, the restaurant seemed to be very highly rated by its customers, at least its Tripadvisor customers. So we jumped in.

And were we glad we did.

We ate a 7 course(?) “tasting” dinner (a separate entry describes this) and were bloated so we walked the city streets surprised by the sound of studded car tires on cobblestone streets, until exhaustion set in around 10 or so. The city was still jumping, stores were open and it was a Wednesday night. Second only to the dinner, the highlight of the evening was spotting a t-shirt that queried,

“What part of 'Eyjafjnallajökull' don't you understand?"

Eyjafjnallajokull, helpfully pronounced [ˈeɪjaˌfjatlaˌjœːkʏtl̥] is the active volcano last erupting in 2010 causing diversion of air traffic to and from Europe. No one outside of the country could even begin to pronounce the name, so it was anglicized to E-528 or some such designation.

By way, in order to help you with you Icelandic language skills and cultural sensitivity, here is the correct pronunciation of this important geological feature, click here.

The next morning we piled out of bed and had a wonderful breakfast at the same restaurant with all manner of fruit, pastries, fish, yogurt, muesli. Pith loves breakfast and loved this breakfast. Again we walked it off, went shopping. We were there one day before Iceland Airwaves, an annual music festival where many stores open up their shops to bands to perform all over the city. (My three favorite band names? Muck, Caterpillermen and Hide the Kids.)

Finally (FINALLY!) I got up the nerve to ask a store clerk if she had ever met Björk. To my amazement she had! She said that she encountered her once in a swimming pool and thought that was a wonderful experience since Björk is now internationally famous. She then proceeded to tell me about another Icelandic band that she really likes called Gus Gus. (pronounced "goose, goose").

Newly emboldened I asked at a second clerk. His answer? Why yes, my mom used to babysit for Björk's son! This young man was told by his mother that he used to tease Björk's son. On this note of teasing, we bonded and he went on to tell me that Björk's son is now 27 or so, is a famous musician in his own right, and because he wishes to make it on his own, he doesn't want any part of his mother's money.

He also attempted to teach me some (very) rudimentary Icelandic, but I couldn't even make that sound at the end of the name of their volcano. He tried at least ten times and I still couldn't get it as it was a cross between a click and a hum.

I felt that Björk was right around the proverbial corner.

The sights, sounds and experiences of Reykjavik on this morning were enthralling despite the cold and damp weather. We were able to take in a fair amount of shops and sights in our brief morning sojourn, but, regrettably (or not) we didn't catch ALL that Iceland has to offer.

Seven Courses of Icelandic Tasting

The Menu

This is the reindeer carpaccio served on an iced piece of shale.  We sent this image to our friends Connie and Tim who were requesting menu items, Ms. Pith suggested the title, "Cancel Christmas".  Admittedly it felt a little weird pondering which of Santa's reindeer we were devouring. (Fixin' to Eat Vixen?)

When asked the waiter about the popularity of reindeer in Iceland, he delightfully regaled us with the yearly tradition of auctioning off a reindeer.  I imagined it to be like pardoning a turkey or a save the wildlife fundraiser.  But no.

The winner of the lottery gets to kill the reindeer and do anything he/she wants with it--eat it, sell it to restaurants, feed the homeless (imagine for a moment being homeless in Iceland--during winter.  Later it was determined that my assumption was wrong.  The lottery is to get a hunting tag for the opportunity to kill a reindeer, much like we have deer tags here in the Northwoods.

But Vixen tasted REALLY good.

This was the bread starter with butter served on a lava rock, or which they have ample.

The Icelandic version of tiramisu

Things that Jumped Out at Us

One of travelling's greatest benefits is how it opens our senses and sensibilities to new ideas and different ways of achieving desired outcomes.

Here's our list of things that accomplished that for us.

MOST places do not have salt or butter on the table.

Children snack on, of all things, apples.  Junk food is difficult to find.

Cars in Europe used to be small and now they are larger.  Cars in the US used to be large and now they are smaller.

The Edinburgh economy is very strong.  Many, many upscale cars are evident and all cars seem to be in excellent condition.  No ‘junkers’ were seen.  Anywhere.

Too much of our stuff is cheap crap from China (and elsewhere) because we want low prices.  Things over here seem to have value.  ex.  Silverware is heavy.  Toilet paper has substance to it. (tmi?)

Things are simple, effective and make sense.

Signage, rules, are at a minimum.  Wherever possible, roadway instructions are printed on the (ahem) roadway.

There are only very few cash registers.  Most attendants carry hand held card readers that can print out receipts (when requested) and/or slips of paper to sign (when required).

Wi-Fi is everywhere.  I am on the airplane as I type this.

Most buildings, while centuries old, have been adapted to today’s world.

Scotland has gone ‘all in’ on sustainable energy--solar and particularly, hydroelectric power.  Even the cabs advertise zero carbon footprint.

Remarkably well-informed and reasoned responses for why one voted for or against the recent referendum on whether or not to break from the U.K.

The Right to Roam is central to Scotland’s values.  The land owners expect their property to be respected and in return the participants expect access.

Scottish Terriers?  None to be seen.

Not very many ‘No’ signs.

Scots were animated and engaging speakers who used hands for emphasis.  Americans sound flat and disengaged by comparison.

The Scottish history is bloody and painful.

Waiters never interrupted a conversation.  Note this when dining at American restaurants.

Motown was the music at breakfast no matter the country.  Gave a peppy start to the day.

Iceland is austere and a young people’s country--lots of outdoor activities and clubs.

In some ways Iceland seems very open to most everything.  In preserving their language they are very strict, establishing a committee to decide upon new words as well as prohibiting unapproved names to children.

The language is COMPLETELY undecipherable, but everyone goes back and forth between English very easily.

Spent 24 hours in Iceland and still couldn’t quite figure out the light switches.

Music is very important in Iceland.

Iceland is (well) worth a return visit.

Our inner Björk remains.

Additional images may be seen here and here.