Reykjavík Grapevine - 10.10.2014, Blaðsíða 12

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 mm 550 500 450 400 350 300 250 200 150 100 50 0 1890 1900 1910 1920 1930 1940 1950 1960 1970 1980 1990 2000 2010 Rainfall June - September 1885-2014 Reykjavík
Blaðsíða 1
Blaðsíða 2
Blaðsíða 3
Blaðsíða 4
Blaðsíða 5
Blaðsíða 6
Blaðsíða 7
Blaðsíða 8
Blaðsíða 9
Blaðsíða 10
Blaðsíða 11
Blaðsíða 12
Blaðsíða 13
Blaðsíða 14
Blaðsíða 15
Blaðsíða 16
Blaðsíða 17
Blaðsíða 18
Blaðsíða 19
Blaðsíða 20
Blaðsíða 21
Blaðsíða 22
Blaðsíða 23
Blaðsíða 24
Blaðsíða 25
Blaðsíða 26
Blaðsíða 27
Blaðsíða 28
Blaðsíða 29
Blaðsíða 30
Blaðsíða 31
Blaðsíða 32
Blaðsíða 33
Blaðsíða 34
Blaðsíða 35
Blaðsíða 36
Blaðsíða 37
Blaðsíða 38
Blaðsíða 39
Blaðsíða 40
Blaðsíða 41
Blaðsíða 42
Blaðsíða 43
Blaðsíða 44
Blaðsíða 45
Blaðsíða 46
Blaðsíða 47
Blaðsíða 48
Blaðsíða 49
Blaðsíða 50
Blaðsíða 51
Blaðsíða 52
Blaðsíða 53
Blaðsíða 54
Blaðsíða 55
Blaðsíða 56
Blaðsíða 57
Blaðsíða 58
Blaðsíða 59
Blaðsíða 60
Blaðsíða 61
Blaðsíða 62
Blaðsíða 63
Blaðsíða 64
Blaðsíða 65
Blaðsíða 66
Blaðsíða 67
Blaðsíða 68
Blaðsíða 69
Blaðsíða 70
Blaðsíða 71
Blaðsíða 72

x

Reykjavík Grapevine

Beinir tenglar

Ef þú vilt tengja á þennan titil, vinsamlegast notaðu þessa tengla:

Tengja á þennan titil: Reykjavík Grapevine
https://timarit.is/publication/943

Tengja á þetta tölublað:

Tengja á þessa síðu:

Tengja á þessa grein:

Vinsamlegast ekki tengja beint á myndir eða PDF skjöl á Tímarit.is þar sem slíkar slóðir geta breyst án fyrirvara. Notið slóðirnar hér fyrir ofan til að tengja á vefinn.