Reykjavík Grapevine - 10.10.2014, Blaðsíða 12

12
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 16 — 2014
THE NUMBER 1 MUSIC STORE
IN EUROPE ACCORDING TO
LONELY PLANET
SKÓLAVÖRÐUSTÍG 15, 101 REYKJAVÍK AND HARPA CONCERT HALL
Iceland | Raining on your parade
She was earnestly suggesting I change
planes and spend the day in the North
Pole to save a few dollars. I couldn’t fire
my travel agent as I am married to her.
So instead, I embarked on an exhaus-
tive research project and by exhaustive
research, I mean a Google search of the
keyword “Iceland.”
I learned that Ice-
land is not part of Ant-
arctica, but is consid-
ered part of Europe
even though Iceland is
clearly not part of Eu-
rope. I also learned that
the sun shines day and
night in Iceland and
the Aurora Borealis can
be seen every night. I
didn’t learn how it is
possible to see the Northern Lights if
there is no darkness.
My flight landed just after 4am in
total darkness—so much for the land of
midnight sun.
I began to suspect that there had been
some sort of natural disaster. Nearly ev-
ery single passenger arriving immediate-
ly began hoarding liquids. Shopping carts
full of wine, beer and liquor were every-
where. I didn’t mind transferring to a sec-
ond bus three blocks from my hotel, but I
did feel bad for the passengers who had
to move the contents of
a small tavern from one
bus to another.
My watch told me
it was nearly 10:30 in
the morning—but it
was still pitch dark.
This was the exact
opposite of what the
travel sites told me to
expect. By the time I
could check in to the
hotel, all I could think
about was taking a hot shower. Unfortu-
nately, the hot water in my room had a
pungent sulphur odour. I naturally asked
to be moved to another room but the ho-
tel was fully booked.
There was no sign of the Northern
Lights on my walk to dinner.
Dinner itself was superb. I ordered
the “Icelandic Tasting” dinner. The wait-
ress joked that the dishes included puffin,
whale and reindeer. Can you imagine? To
this day, I do not know what the sumptu-
ous dishes actually contained.
Dinner was partially marred by an
accompanying liquor called “Brennivín.”
It tasted like hooch made in a prison cell
toilet. I couldn’t understand why anyone
would willingly drink this concoction
until the bill arrived. The price of the bot-
tle of wine I ordered with dinner perhaps
explained the near riots at the airport’s
duty free shop.
It was still pitch dark when I boarded
the bus for my “Golden Circle” tour late
the next morning.
The tour was packed with the most
majestic, stunningly beautiful and one-
of-a-kind sights I have ever witnessed, in-
cluding the original Geysir, huge volcanic
calderas and icy, crystal clear waters. The
weather certainly seemed more like Ant-
arctica than Europe. If I had gone with
my original plan of taking a self-guided
tour, I would have either turned around
and headed back to safety or slid off the
road and froze to death.
Rather than heading back early, our
driver added bonus stops to our tour. I
suspect this was punishment for my hid-
ing under a table with my lamb stew in
the dining room at Gullfoss. Our driver
seemed unfazed by hazardous condi-
tions, calmly explaining Icelandic poli-
tics. Apparently pots, pans, banks and
salmon fishing are hot-button political
issues with this guy.
The “restaurant” that I was told is the
“best in Reykjavík” turned out to be little
more than a hot dog stand. I decided to
forego the exotic sauces and condiments
and ordered a simple hot dog with mus-
tard. The cashier responded by calling
me Bill Clinton. I assume this was an in-
sult, like calling me “Yankee Doodle,” or
perhaps it was just that famous Icelandic
sense of humour. The hot dog itself had
a disconcerting fresh-from-the-butcher
flavour. I’ve noticed the hamburger joints
in Reykjavík make similar mistakes, us-
ing fresh meat and tomatoes that taste
like they just came from someone’s gar-
den rather than employing the scientifi-
cally proven processing techniques that
we use in the States.
I can take credit for one off-the-beat-
en-path discovery—the Blue Lagoon is a
quintessential Iceland experience.
The steaming blue water would be a
marvel even if bathing were prohibited.
Though I felt absurd wearing a bathing
suit in a snow storm, I stayed at the Blue
Lagoon from open to close. I had planned
to buy skin treatments at the gift shop—I
had to double-check my exchange rates
twice. The mineral masks and bath salts
for sale were considerably more expen-
sive than cocaine.
My return flight had only a three hour
layover at Keflavík. Plenty of time to grab
a skyr and a Bill Clinton for the plane, but
I almost missed my flight because the
line for Brennivín took forever and the
Blue Lagoon skin care shop was on the
far side of the airport.
Accidental
Iceland
By Jeff Edwards
Photo by Gulli
The waitress joked
that the dishes in-
cluded puffin, whale
and reindeer. Can you
imagine? To this day,
I do not know what
the sumptuous dishes
actually contained.
My travel agent was clearly making a joke at my expense:
“The cheapest roundtrip ticket from New York to London
is Icelandair with a short layover in Reykjavík.”
You’ve just come in for the day. Your
clothes are strewn across the radiator.
Your anorak is hanging in the bath-
room. It’s creating a giant puddle on
the floor. Oh, and you’ve just stepped
in it with your last pair of dry socks. It’s
cold. It’s wet. It’s gray. It’s late October
in Reykjavík. You’re kicking yourself for
not choosing to visit during the sum-
mer, but as some Pollyanna told you, at
least this way you’re getting the authen-
tic Icelandic experience.
Well, you should know that it
wouldn’t have made much difference
if you had come during the summer. It
would have been a little bit warmer and
a little bit brighter, but you still would
have been pretty soggy. And if people
try to tell you otherwise, you can rest
assured that they are living in denial. In
fact, it was extra bad this year. We had
more rain in Reykjavík over the last four
months—June through September—
than we’ve ever had during that same
period since rainfall measurements be-
gan in 1920.
You’re Wet And
You’re Cold And
You’re Miserable
…Because All It Ever Does
Is Rain In This Place!
By Anna Andersen
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Rainfall June - September 1885-2014
Reykjavík