Back at the old grey school, you would win and I would lose

Because of Eve's impending marriage to Jesse and their already made promise of lodging to a very important friend I made my way from Stoke Newington to the London Bridge area to begin the Central London leg of my London vacation.

First, I did some errands.

Yuck. Yuck. And Yuck.

I stood in a melting hot post office purchasing stamps, all of my luggage strapped to my back, wandered up and down the halls of a Woolworths looking for a better compartment for my passport than a deteriorating envelope and took a few trains down to the southern bank of the Thames to find my current hostel, the St. Christopher. I can't really complain about it but I also have trouble expressing the enthusiasm I felt for the hostels in Iceland.

Which is, of course, the theme of the day: I like Iceland better than I like London.

At most moments today my thoughts were along the lines of: People in Iceland are nicer. People in Iceland are better looking. Iceland is prettier. Iceland is cleaner. Iceland is safer. It is easier to figure out where the good things are in Iceland and avoid the crap. Service is more efficient in Iceland. The weather is not muggy and disgusting in Iceland. But why complain? I DO feel a fondness for London and I would much prefer to be stuck in London for the rest of my life than Reykjavik.

Wanna know something I love about London?

Sainsbury's! Oh so good-good-good! Running low on low-blood-sugar food, I took a stop at the Sainsbury's in Angel, and found myself overwhelmed by the quality and quantity of the food (and the pleasant air conditioned atmosphere.) I almost regretted that I was not staying longer in London, for had I been planning to do so, I would have had an excuse to purchase some of the delicious cookable foods I found there. Instead I bought a bottle of delicious apple-blackberry juice, a box full of sugarcubes, some Kleenex (did I mention I was coming down with a mild cold?) and some delicious red and perfectly ripe cherry tomatoes. The cherry tomatoes were consumed over the next 6 hours, each with a smile and a hum of satisfaction.
So refreshment to consume both a fruit and a vegetable, after Iceland, where meat and bread are the only foods good enough to warrant the price.

After checking in at the hostel, I had lunch at a nearby curry shop. Lamb Vindaloo! First time in so long! Just as it had often been junior year, I was the only person in the restaurant and drank glass after glass of water in order to bear the spiciness of the sauce. While I remembered correctly the deliciousness of London Indian food, I had forgotten the subsequent stomach aches that were a regular part of my life. I spent next hours trying to avoid being overly nauseated. As I get older, I may not have the same tolerance for spicy food. Lamb Madras next time, then!

I took the tube and my feet to the Natural History Museum and admired some of the current exhibits, all of which inspired me both naturally and historically. "Face to Face" featured closeups of a number of apes that had been rescued mostly around Africa from poachers. With such close shots, one realizes that yes, all chimpanzees do not look alike. Nor do all bonobos. I also saw the dinosaur bones. Which I loved only slightly less than I would have loved had I seen them when I was 8. And I would have loved the mammalian exhibit only slightly more if I didn't have to use the restroom the entire time. Who knew that the blue whale was so large or that the polar bear was so scary looking?

Now sweaty, tired, and with a runny nose I took the tube up to Leicester Square. Not because it is so unmissable of a place, but because it is one of the few places in London that I remember from my semester abroad in Fall of 2000. I walked up Charing Cross Road and Tottenham Court Road, past the bookstores, past the tourist shops, past the drag queens and past the tourists with maps. I wondered how I could have been so unwilling to spend an unnecessary pound at age 20 that I regularly made this walk.

After a few false starts I found University College London, where I had once studied history. And despite confidence that nothing had changed, I felt only a vague recognition of my surroundings. How was this possible? I stumbled upon the campus bar I used to attend. I walked through the hall where I would have lunch. Why could I only barely remember these spots?

My memory sharpened when I entered the history department. I saw the photographs of Simon Corcoran (my Greek and Roman Slavery Professor) and Catherine Hall (my British history professor) on the walls and got lost on the astoundingly confusing halls and stairways of the department and memories started to come back of running through the rain and huddling outside with Little Laura after class. I walked past Gordon Square and felt the familiar deja vu of talking to Crispy. Now it seems right, I thought!

Some sort of graduation ceremony was going on on the stairs near the Slate School. I took a few pictures.

I could not be bothered to find Jeremy Bentham's embalmed body, nor the psychology classroom I regularly attended on Wednesdays.

I found my way to Euston Station (such a big mess!) and made my way finally to the hostel.

What happened to my memories of school? They seemed mostly fond, but in actuality I think my experience there was characterized by vagueness and confusion. I never really knew exactly where most things were. I usually walked so quickly as to not notice the details of most of my surroundings. I rarely explored. And most of my classes only met once a week. I half wished that I paid closer attention. For a city like London for which I have spent so much time, I should have a much sharper memory. I half suspect that if I returned to Reykjavik in 5 years I would have almost as helpful of a memory.

I took a shower in the hostel and remembered exactly why hostels don't cost as much as hotels. While simultaneously worrying that my "big bag" would be stolen from the dormitory room, my "small bag" with my valuables was made wet by the shower. Still, it felt good to be clean, to shave and to change my clothes.

I went downstairs to the hostel bar, drank two coronas and had a ham and cheese sandwich for dinner while I read a few pages of the interminable For Whom the Bell Tolls (I don't dislike it, it just moves much too slowly for me without offering me any insights that appeal). I don't know what the rest of tonight will bring. It appears that tonight will be a quiet night, as I am yet to eye anybody in the hostel in which I have much interest in talking, but no one knows. Tomorrow I take a train to Brighton for a day of relaxation at the beach.

Verily, to this I look forward.

The Last Night of the Fair

My plans for London are mostly unambitious. I lived here for 3 months during my study abroad semester in college. Strangely, I do not recognize almost any familiar landmarks. I am fairly positive that the city has not drastically changed in the last five years, yet even while cruising down Camden Road, I recognized little besides the Sainsbury's at which I once shopped.

Eve's place is slightly out of the way, which also gives me less incentive to get on a bus, a tube and then foot for the sake of a Central London tourist attraction.

Also, I'm tired. True, I have only been on the road for about 10 days, but I am itching for a real bed, sheets and a private shower. Just one night. I think I can hold out until Spain for that, because for now, London is only moderately less expensive than Iceland.

Still, let us reflect upon the events of yesterday. And let us conclude that yesterday was a good day.

Eve, Jesse and I had a relaxed breakfast at a diner in the neighborhood. I had ham, an egg, a sausage, beans, buttered bread and a cup of coffee.

Then, Eve and I took many forms of transportation to the Notting Hill Carnaval which appeared to be celebrating Trinidadian culture. I know almost nothing about Trinidad, so the experience was highly educating.
Elaborate costumes, lots of butt shaking and an abundance of open containers. The street carnival was, I admit, a bit crowded. I'm not sure if I have ever seen more people packed into city streets. This outdid the West Hollywood Halloween Carnaval. I enjoyed the learning experience of watching the people, but also came to the conclusion that London is not so terribly friendly of a city. People in Reykjavik were much more courteous, even when drunkenly roaming the streets in the late hours of the morning. Eve asked a policeman for directions and we squeezed past and through some Trinidadians to fresh air.

We took a short trip to Camden Town, my old home in London, only to find that I had forgotten everything about it. I could not even identify for certain the Indian restaurant at which I ate several times a week. Sad. Simultaneously, I felt an overwhelming nostalgia for the place and I admit, got a touch emotional.

A bus or two to Angel for lunch/dinner at Wagamama (Japanese noodle shop that I had been actively missing ever since I left London in 2000). Never disappointing! And back to the apartment.

Pub quiz in Hackney (team name: "I hate you as a friend"). Eve and Jesse were impressive (Bertrand Russell!? Gladiolus?!) but my contributions were few and not entirely helpful. Perhaps I need to spend an even more disproportionate amount of my time on Wikipedia than I do.

I think I may be coming down with a cold.

Let's get out before we melt away/Train: Heave on to Euston

Or Paddington, rather. Long day of travelling, yesterday was. But it began well and it ended well. And that's the most important thing, isn't it? Not the journey, but the destination!

Amazingly, Sunday began without a hangover, but very tired and after very little sleep. With only a store purchased cinnamon roll and some of the Domus Hostel coffee for breakfast (despite all of the circumstances, I am still trying to save money), I was picked up by a bus and taken to the Blue Lagoon, Iceland's most popular tourist spot.. Along the way, I chatted with two Spanish girls from Barcelona who had just completed a mountain bike tour of Iceland. I was pleased to practice my Spanish. And they were very nice.

But what is the Blue Lagoon, eh? About 50 kilometers from Reykjavik, a factory heats water. The water is transported by a pipe to a large pool in the middle of a lava field. This pool is full of silca mud and foreign tourists enjoying a hot bath on a cold day. This is the Blue Lagoon. Supposedly it is healthy and relaxing. You rub white mud on your face that exfoliates.

I changed into my bathing suit, took the required pre-lagoon shower, and walked the 30 feet of freezing Reykjavik morning into the man made and faux-geothermally heated lake. As advertised, it was relaxing. The guests were mostly tourists, often British or German and I went a long time wandering around, enjoying the water until I ran again into the Spaniards. I chatted with them for another 30 minutes (first long chat I've had with strangers in a swimming pool in many, many years), and then rushed out to shower and pack up so I could make my bus to the airport.

The bus, despite the advice of the travel advisor in Reykjavik, got me to the airport with far from enough time to make my plane. After being allowed to cut in line, I sprinted through the airport and made my flight on time, although a bit sweaty. I feel asleep almost immediately.

Iceland was a great country to visit. I loved the landscape. I loved Reykjavik. I liked most of the people I met (I especially liked Eva, her boyfriend and their friends). Except for the cost, I would recommend travel there. While the weather is not exactly warm, a light jacket and scarf were sufficient for all but the windiest nights. I have travelled through much of the United States and a small amount internationally and I have never been as visually enamoured with a country.

There are ways, however, that the trip could have been easier and better:

1. Not going alone. I realized that renting a car, at least for a few days, is a necessity in Iceland. The buses are expensive and run infrequently and given the nature of travelling it is best to be able to stop where you want to stop and for however long. However, at 120 dollars a day plus gas, the price put a big dent in my travel account. With 3 friends to travel with me, the cost of the car and gas would have been relatively negligible.

2. Bringing lots of Trader Joe's food with me. While I was happy with the taste of the food I purchased in Icelandic supermarkets and gas stations (much better than gas station food in the U.S.), it was neither as cheap, as good nor as varied as food in a Trader Joe's. Given that I would be unable financially to afford much food in restaurants, it would have made sense to provide myself with a wider variety of snacks.

3. Bring a sleeping bag. I wasted at least 20 or 30 dollars paying for "linens" at the hostels. For the rest of the nights I decided to sleep without them in my clothes. This was not as comfortable as I would have liked. I didn't have to carry my "big bag" around all that much, and having a sleeping bag with me would not have been so inconvenient. It would have saved me money and I would have slept better.

4. Brought good hiking shoes with me. It is hard to fully enjoy Iceland without hiking shoes. While I did not take any of the more challening treks, nor walk for more than a few hours, it would have been nice to have the opportunity to do so with good hiking shoes. I ended up having to purchase mediocre hiking shoes in Reykjavik, just to be able to do some of the most basic outdoorsy Icelandic activities.

5. Planned for the Lannmanalaugur Trek to Thorsmork. Supposedly it rivals the Inca Trail in terms of being scenic. 3-4 days in the wilderness, sleeping in huts. I think I would have gotten a lot out of that trip, and camping for 3-4 days would have been relatively cheap. It would have been unwise with the relatively light clothing I have, without any other companions and without a sleeping bag. I hope to go to Iceland again, expressly for the purpose of completing this walk. Anyone up for a long weekend?

I think travelling alone for the rest of the trip will be perfectly fine. Because of the expense and isolation of Iceland, it think it is peculiarly suited for travel with others. However, it was relatively easy for meet people once outside of Reykjavik who were also travelling alone, and doing so made the trip much, much better.

I arrived in London at around 9 last night. I dealt with a long complicated mess of trains, tube stations, buses, and hot dog stands before arriving at Eve and Jesse's apartment in Stoke-Newington. It was a relief to see them. Eve and I talked for a few hours about my trip to Iceland (most of my stories were redundant, as she had been reading this blog), but I felt a rush merely talking to an old friend rather than strangers.

And there's no map, and a compass wouldn't help at all

After checking my email, I recalled the hot dog vendor who on Sunday informed me that I could try hákarl (an Icelandic delicacy of putrified shark meat) at a flea market held in downtown Reykjavik on the weekend. After a few false starts, I found the flea market and soon found my snack. While hákarl is notorious for being bad tasting and smelling (most of the Icelandic people I met were not fans), I felt that it was my obligation as a tourist to try something exotic and to experience something that would be impossible to find at home. I had specific memories of being horrified by the description of this dish from reading Lonely Planet Iceland back in 2000.

It wasn't bad at all. It tasted vaguely like bleu cheese with the texture of sushi, but tougher. It was chopped into cubes, which I ate with my hands in a cafe area of the market. While the taste and smell were probably dulled by the strong smell of cigarette smoke in the area (I forget that California is unusual for prohibiting cigarettes in restaurants), I enjoyed the hákarl. However, it made me hungry for something more filling, so I went across the street for yet another hot dog.

By now, I was feeling quite tired, but still ambitious enough to walk to the western end of Reykjavik in hopes of trying out a geothermal swimming pool. I wasn't terribly impressed by the looks of it when I got there, so began heading home. While walking down Laugavegur, I encountered a woman dressed as Supercow, holding a guitar with a crowd following her as she approached tourists. She began asking me questions in different languages, trying to figure out where I was from. She figured out that I was American and in my honor sang a song which I assume was titled "Los Angeles", because it mostly involved repeating the name "Los Angeles" to the same chord. In Iceland, I am always surprised as to what is obscure and what is not. I asked if she could sing a Sugarcubes song, but instead of singing one of the more popular ones, She copied their cover of "Top of the World". I am not aware of this song being on any Sugarcubes albums.

I returned back to the hostel and slept for a few hours.

I needed the sleep. Friday night had been rough on me. I am not used to people partying so hard. I have to admit that I felt a little wimpy.

I woke up hungry and decided that before I left Iceland I should have ONE real meal in a restaurant. That's right, folks. I had only ONE restaurant meal. Everything else was either a supermarket purchased snack, hot dog, sandwich from the gas station or the breakfast that Domus Guesthouse served. Unless you count the fish soup I enjoyed for lunch on Day 1. Because it was open and not terribly pricey, I dined at Solon on Lauguvegur. I have always been a fan of lamb, but with only a small amount of doubt I must say that the lamb I had for dinner last night was the best I've had. Pan fried with a delicious brown sauce, a salad (vegetables!), potatoes and brocolli. I ate the meal slowly, savoring every bite. After gazing upon Icelandic lamb roaming the countryside for a week, I could not but help be curious as to how they would taste. A bit tougher than American lamb, but much more flavorful. I was so happy. The meal cost about 30 dollars, which is fairly reasonable for an Icelandic restaurant.

It took a while to get in touch with Eva, as she and Joey were at a wedding, but after a few hours hanging out in the Guesthouse dining area, she called and offered to pick me up in five minutes. Fortunately, I was ready to go.

Saturday night was fairly similar to Friday night. We drank beer at the apartment until about 1 AM, the Icelandic folks alternating between the languages. Eva told me a bit about Icelandic law (she too, is in law school.) I spoke to Sella, one of their friends, for a while in Spanish, as she had learned to speak. It is always fun to practice. Some of Joey's friends felt that I would have had a better time travelling in the north of Iceland than the south, but I still have no regrets. I believe I was dropped off on Lauguvegur in a car along with a few others and moved from bar to bar until about 6 in the morning. My favorite was probably the Celtic Cross, an Irish pub with live music. By live music, I mean a guy playing a guitar and singing. By singing, I mean a cover of "Hit Me Baby One More Time."

As had been the night before, I did not have to purchase my own drinks, as Joey and Eva bought them for me. So nice, aren't they? I continue to be amazed that I finally met my Icelandic pen pal after so many years. I suppose that after so many years of not going to Iceland, I had grown to accept that I would never go. Walking around Reykjavik yesterday made me sad, though. I didn't want to leave. Something about the smallness and the feel of the city make me feel good and comfortable.

I got to sleep around 6:30, but this time in my hostel bed, completely exhausted. The streets were finally getting quiet again.

Mountain glacier-glacier-glacier stream

On Friday morning, Tara and I had a breakfast of gas station purchased cinnamon roll and instant oatmeal and made the relatively short trip to the Snaftafell park in Southeastern Iceland. Unlike Þorsmörk, the hiking paths were clearly marked and the scenery was arguably superior. We hiked along a fairly flat path to get as close as we could safely get to the glacier (this glacier runs off of the third largest icecap in the world -- behind Greenland and Antarctica). We then took a more challening path up the mountain to visit some waterfalls (all better than almost any waterfall I have seen in the U.S.) Iceland seems slightly less obsessed with safety than the United States, as we were able to walk right up to the edge of the waterfall and look down at the water crashing on the rocks below. As we ascended the mountain, we warmed up so that a t-shirt was sufficient to stay warm. Here, there were far more tourists than we had encountered in other spots, and the directions were straightforward. We explored a sod roof house on the way down the mountain and passed by tents of people camping along the edge.

We had lunch (cold sandwiches and coffee) before heading even farther east to see Jökulsarlon, a sight described by an Oregonian tourist as "the most impressive thing she has ever seen." While this description may have been slightly over the top, the extra 50 km were probably worth it. Here, the glacier melts into the ocean forming a soup of blue-blue water with huge blocks of ice floatings downstream into the sea.


The return trip was tiring. So tiring that I had to stop driving in the middle of a lava field and go to sleep for about 15 minutes. Supposedly it took me about 3 seconds to fall asleep. It was worth it, because afterwards I felt much better.

I dropped Tara off at the bus station in Reykjavik at around 5:45, although sad to see her go as she was a good travel partner. I dropped off my Hertz rental car, checked back into the Domus Guesthouse.

Then, I called Eva, my long-ago Icelandic pen pal with whom I had not written in about 5 years. She invited me out with her boyfriend and her friends (and I, eager to experience the famous Reykjavik nightlife with Icelanders, accepted). They picked me up at the hostel, I grabbed a hot dog for dinner and went to there place where we began drinking for the next 6 hours.

I do not remember much about last night, but I do know that we listened to a lot of Queen, laughed hard, and went to two bars in downtown Reykjavik. I know that I woke up this morning on the couch of one of Eva´s friends.

It was nice to finally meet Eva after so many years. She and her boyfriend were extremely kind to me and I enjoyed meeting their friends. Tonight is Saturday night, so perhaps Reykjavik has more nightlife to offer me. In the meantime, I have been updating from this internet cafe for the past two and a half hours and need to get myself some lunch, a shower, and maybe a nap.

Emotional Landscapes, they puzzle me

Tara and I woke up early to begin our two day journey of southern Iceland. I think we did an exceptional job.

We drove about an hour to a junction in the middle of nowhere, where we would pay about 50 dollars each to join a bus tour to þorsmörk, The Valley of Thor. While waiting for the bus to arrive, we visited a nearby waterfall. Due to the way the water had carved the rock, we were able to walk behind the waterfall and only get moderately cold and wet. We talked about immigration in the United States and Iceland while being pounded by powerful, cold wind.

The bus to þorsmörk was unlike any bus on which I have ever travelled. I was aware that the journey to this very popular hiking area was accessible only to 4WD vehicles, I did not realize that we would be crossing glacial rivers (without the aid of bridges) while the bus rocked back and forth.

The valley appears to be created by glacial runoff from a nearby icecap, of which we were able to catch a few glimpses from our hike. For the first 45 minutes, we mostly travelled upwards, watching the base camp fade from view and the flora changing from wet bushes and mushrooms to grass and moss. It was beautiful, but due to the fact that we both became quickly fatigued by the rapid ascent, we decided to loop our way down. This was much more difficult than we had planned. The man at the visitor center had informed us that we "couldn´t get lost" on the path, but we managed to find ourselves far from where we wanted to me, and nearly made an unnecessary forge across a quickly moving glacier stream before Tara convinced me to ask for directions. The landscape changes rapidly in Iceland. Sometimes barren volcanic rock, sometimes forest, and sometimes like southern California chaparall. We stopped at the base camp cafe for some hot dogs, coffee and chit chat before getting on the bus back to my car.

We drove a long way, past Vik, through barren lavafields, through a dust storm, across bridged glacial rivers to a farmhouse hostel in the middle of nowhere near the Snaftafell National Park. After being accustomed to the smallness of Reykjavik (under 200,000 people), Stikkishölmur (1300) and Vik (300), I was still shocked by the remoteness of Hvoll. Here, there was almost nothing for many kilometers, but the hostel was full of French tourists, preparing an elaborate dinner over the course of several hours. Tara and I met a very friendly American couple who was part of the French tour group who offered us some delicious soup and also a L.A. based video artist named Joan Perlman, who after a series of 50 dreams about Iceland decided to make it the long term subject of her work. Interesting. Tara and I had a few beers and a wimpy dinner (crackers and a ham sandwich) before heading off to bed. I stepped outside before going to sleep in hopes of seeing the Northern Lights (as some at the hostel in Vik had claimed to have seen the night before), but I had no such luck.

That Jökull Isn´t Funny Anymore

Jökull means "glacier", by the way.

Katrina (the girl from the hostel) and I decided to get up early explore the Snæfellsnes peninsula, before I dropped her off in Reykjavik. Our trip was a grand success, despite rewarding my Toyota Avensis with a slight scratch from volcanic rock.

We had a delicious breakfast at the bakery outside Stikkishölmur of donuts and coffee before beginning our wild adventurs along the northern coast of the peninsula. We crossed bridges, drove on both sides of the road, admired the sharply rising mountains to our left, read Icelandic sagas from my Lonely Planet, dodged dangerous rain storms and indulged in a few sing-a-longs to the radio (a cheesy Icelandic lounge version of Van Morrison´s "Moondance", "Sweet Home Alabama," "Suspicious Minds" and Lisa Loeb´s "Stay") as well as listened to some of Katrina´s CDs (Poe´s "Haunted" and a mix CD that featured my all time favorite band Nickelback.)

We climbed a mountain called Helgafell and braved extreme cold and wind to take a few pictures of the surrounding landscape.

The centerpiece of our trip was Snæfellsjökull, a glacier nestled in a volcano. As a historical note, this was the location which inspired Jules Verne´s Journey to the Centre of the Earth and was supposedly the gateway to novel´s journey. We were unable to get terribly close because my car lacked the 4WD necessary to navigate the lava fields around the crater, but we did manage to snap a few pictures, run around the lava and touch a glacier stream running down the mountain.

As we continued around the peninsula we admired some very small but pretty towns, noticed a car that had smashed itself driving off the road, and took pictures of what was by far the best rainbow I have ever seen. The rain and mist off the coastal mountain cliffs diffracted the light above lush green farmland to create a very bright, distinct and close up rainbow.

I decided to avoid the 1000 Kr. fee to use a tunnel on the way back to Reykjavik and ended up getting stuck with a 45 minute drive around a twisty fjörd. I dropped Katrina off at the Salvation Army Guesthouse in Reykjavik, made reservations for the evening and began the second half of my driving day.

After having driven almost continuously since 8 in the morning, I got on the road at approximately 4 PM and drove two and a half hours to Vik, a town of about 300 people on the southern coast of Iceland. I stopped in one of the towns on the way to briefly use the internet, and at a small barn built into a cave where I met a group of Canadians in town for the Reykjavik Marathon (like Katrina and the group I met my first day in Reykjavik).

Vik was tiny, as expected, and nestled against some steep cliffs were seagulls circled. The towns best feature was the smooth black sand beach. I took a long, romantic walk by myself before purchasing a ham and cheese sandwich at the gas station (as well as a few snacks) and checking into the town´s hostel.

Here, I met Tara, a lawyer from Washington D.C., whow would become my travel partner for the next two days. We discussed books (Interpreter of Maladies, God of Small Things) and made plans for the morning.

I took a shower, lost my towel and went to sleep late, tired and cold after writing a few postcards.

To the Lighthouse

The road trip adventure begins!

After a few extremely inconvenient false starts!

And after obscene amounts of money pass from my hands to the Icelandic economy!

I spent Tuesday morning rushing around Reykjavik, attempting to purchase hiking books at 66 Degrees North, find that my "size" is not available, renting a car at Hertz for well over 100 dollars a day plus very expensive gas, meeting Hussein Shehadeh while checking out of my hostel, driving out to suburban Reykjavik to the OTHER 66 Degrees North store to actually purchase a pair of mediocre hiking shoes that seem to sort of fit (for about 140 dollars) and then hitting the road.

Driving a car in a foreign country is a special experience, and in Iceland perhaps more so. People drive aggressively here, the roads twist and turn, the speed limit is in deceptive kilometers, police are almost nowhere to me found and road signs refer to small towns I have never heard of. My drive for the day was largely misguided, sometimes scary but often beautiful, depending on how lost I was, whether I was on dirt of paved roads and whether or not rain poured upon me.

My intention was to drive to Snæfellsjökull, a glacier on the Snæfellsnes peninsula in western Iceland, a few hundred kilometers from Reykjavik. Instead, I mistakenly ended up in northwestern Iceland in a freezing cold gas station. Fortunately, the gas station attendant GAVE me a map (as the one Hertz had donated was inadequate), for FREE! Along the way, I encounted a volcano crater that I had the pleasure to climb in my new hiking shoes. There were few other tourists exploring the volcanic summit, but those there were both significantly older and posher than I am.

I drove a few hundred kilometers through moderate rain and dirt roads to get myself to Stikkishölmar (pop. 1300 and the largest town in the Snæfellsnes peninsula). I must admit that I was concerned about my safety. I drove slowly, listening to the few Icelandic radio stations that I was able to pick up (I heard Talking Heads "Once in a Lifetime", an Icelandic version of the Red Hot Chili Peppers "Give it Away", Peter Gabriel´s "Big Time" and a song from the Arcade Fire I had never heard), repeatedly checking the map in hopes that I was close to a town where I could get gas if I needed.

Note about Icelandic maps: On maps of the United States or even individual states, the very smallest black dots usually refer to small towns of 500-1000 people. Not much to rely upon, but better than nothing. To my disappointment, I discovered that these small dots in Iceland refer to Individual Farm Houses! Imagine my frustration, believing that I was nearing some sort of civilization, to find a mere building, being thrashed by the rain as much as I.

I did eventually reach Stikkishölmar. I recently heard a story that the Foo Fighters once visited and jammed with a band of 16 year olds from the town, eventually inviting the kids to join them on stage for their Reykjavik show. The town is quite small, and somewhat quaint, but like the rest of Iceland surprisingly posh.

Outside of Reykjavik, most Icelandic towns are extremely small, yet somehow none seem to take on the redneck qualities of small American towns. The woman working the youth hostel (which I amazingly squeezed into without a reservation) was mostly indistinguishable from someone I would have met in the capital.

I wandered to the harbor and took pictures of the ships and then climbed a steep hill to the big yellow lighthouse. The wind blew so hard I was almost knocked over, but I loved the view of the town and the ocean from high above. The Arctic Ocean is cold and choppy, but when observed through heavy wind and light rain in the darkening evening of Stikkishölmar, these effects are magnified.

I viewed the strangely modern church and some sea birds, met some more Spaniards and returned to the hostel for a dinner of bloðmör (blood pudding) and sugar (I had purchased these things in Reykjavik, and the hostel manager suggested I fry them). It was quite delicious. Here, I met a girl named Katrina from Kingston, Ontario who became my travel partner for the next day.

I went for a walk by myself at night, listening to my iPod and wandered into the only restaurant that appeared open. It was not actually open, but the 18 year old bartender let me in to purchase a 10 dollar beer and chit chat with her for about half an hour. She was the first Icelandic person I met with whom I had a personal rather than professional discussion, and this was refreshing. From her, I discovered conclusively that Icelanders to NOT like Björk. Despite that fact that she is atypical for the country, I do not know why. She was sweet to talk to though and helped me practice the few Icelandic words I know.

I returned to the hostel and met my roommates, a very friendly German father and son from around Cologne. We talked politics and they educated me on German law and military service before falling asleep around 1:00 AM.

That´s what you do with no sunlight

Monday evening after the Golden Circle tour signalled the beginning of an increasingly social trend in my Icelandic vacation. I met up with Julian from the tour bus at Cafe Paris for one cheap waffle and one very expensive beer and chatted for a few hours. Notably, I learned that Blackberries from the U.S. function in Iceland. The horror!

I ended the night wandering Laukuvegur, finally ending at my apartment where I met a group of Spanish tourists, the first of many groups of Spanish tourists I would encounter. I was excited to practice my Spanish, as clumsy as it was. I ate a few sugarcubes and went to sleep in my clothes.

I´ve seen enough stray ponies and puffins to get me through ´til the end of May

The "meeting people" situation is not quite yet where I would like it to be (that is, finding someone I like who wants to travel with me for a bit) but it has greatly improved.

Yesterday afternoon, after I returned from the internet cafe, I met a group of 50 something year old Canadian couples who were in Iceland for this past weekend´s Reykjavik Marathon. Coincidentally, they were running on behalf of Team Diabetes, raising money for the Canadian Diabetes Association. After talking to one of them (Mary) for a long time about her diabetic son, the group invited me to join them at the hostel dining room table while they ate a light dinner. I was offered (and accepted) some soup although I wasn´t hungry, and a glass of white wine, although I wasn´t thirsty, but the 7 of so of us had a hearty conversation about politics, Cuba, Churchill (the town in Manitoba), marathon techniques, diabetes, and Icelandic geography. By the time we were done talking, it had become evening. Mary and Yvonne (one of them) and I went for a walk down Laukuvegur and browsed a book store. By now, I was starving and ate 2 more pylsur (Icelandic hot dogs). I made it to sleep by 10:30, but woke up several times and finally at 5 AM I gave up.

After breakfast (bread, ham, salami, cucumber, butter sandwich and skyr, an Icelandic yogurt, both super good), I caught a tour bus to the "Golden Circle", a region featuring some of Iceland´s most popular tourist features. I of course, having not so long ago travelled to Thailand, have trouble remembering to not call it the "Golden Triangle", which would be something entirely different.

I listened to Tappi Tikarass, Björk and the Fiery Furnaces to get in the mood while driving through lava fields. I would say that the lava fields reminded me of Big Island Hawaii, but because the eruption had taken place a thousand years ago, moss had grown all over the Icelandic lava.

1. We stopped first at a village famous for the hot steam that comes out of the ground and the greenhouses it houses, from which most of Iceland´s fruit production takes place. The town was mostly a tourist trap though, and I declined to purchase a postcard or a reindeer skin.

2. Next, we visited a water filled volcano crater. Because we only had 20 minutes to see it, I jogged and briskly walked around it, and took some pictures of deep down. Here, I first met a guy named Julian who asked me to take a picture of him in front of the crater.

3. A waterfall. I ran down to the bottom to test the temperature of the water. Freezing cold. Notable was the staircase that had been built to facilitate upstream salmon migration.

4. Another, much better waterfall. This was perhaps one of the most striking natural features that I had ever seen. The water was terrifying. I imagined myself in a barrel, floating down. And then stopped imagining it, because it was an unpleasant thought. I explored the area, running up and down the surrounding cliffs.

5. Ate my lunch on the bus: a liverwurst and flatbread sandwich and a coke. Delicious!

6. Geysir! The original one, after which all other spouting bursts of geothermic steam are named. Here Julian and I explored the area, saw some bright blue springs and then climbed a muddy hill to get a view of the entire area. If only I could upload pictures. We did see the geyser explode a few times and heard a German dude curse in his native langugage after failing to photograph the explosion after minutes of waiting.

7. The site of the Icelandic Parliament that ran from 900 and something until 1800. Located where the North American tectonic plate meets the European one. That is, we saw the edges of these two major plates. Huge ridges, with a lake in the middle.

Along the way, I saw few birds, but MANY Icelandic ponies. Icelandic horses are a unique breed, as they were first brought by the Vikings about a thousand years ago and have not been bred with any other horses. They are small, friendly looking, and supposedly have a fifth "gait" that other horses do not have. It is described as the "bus gait", because it feel so smooth to the rider.

I´m back in Reykjavik now, less tired than I was yesterday, and am thinking that i would like to "go out" tonight, if I can. Tomorrow, I may rent a car.

Oh, it turns out that I was wrong about the geothermal beach. I missed the spot by about 100 meters. Floyd, one of the Canadians, had gone that afternoon and said it was spectacular. Thus, I take back anything mean I said about the geothermic beach. I maintain any criticism of the beach upon which I actually walked.

Black stone beach and a black death bottle is all me and my baby´ll need

I may have started my trip too eagerly, as it is only 2PM of my first day and I am exhausted.

I also love this city.

Still, I have no illusions about it ever being appropriate for me to live here. While it is practically perfect in so many ways, it is so distinctly Icelandic that I would imagine it near difficult for a foreigner to ever feel at home here. It is homogenous in a way that I am unfamiliar. Not only is everyone here the same race (white), they are also of the same background and culture. While the town is brimming with tourists (Spanish, Italian, British, American, a few Chinese), I cannot help but feel like I am intruding in someone else´s home. I don´t mind it much, as I am only visiting, but I feel that attempting to assimilate here would be far more impossible than it is in a more heterogenous city. Furthermore, the architecture and style of the city seem mostly homogenous. No two houses are identical, and each home and garden has its own personality, I do not sense the presence of distinct neighborhoods as one would find in New York, L.A. or London. I don´t mind this, as the people nor architecture are not lacking in personality, but I find it surprising for a city of even this size.

As I noted previously, Sunday is a quiet day in Reykjavik. After I left the internet cafe this morning, I wandered down the main drag, noticing the high end shops and (recently closed) bars. The buildings are all made of stone, often covered with what appears to be gravel. Many of them are brightly colored. I don´t know why they are brightly colored, (red, blue, etc.) but somehow manage to avoid tackiness.

The weather is (to use one of my favorite expressions) "not entirely unlike" the weather in Costa Rica, but much colder. The sun will be shining, and within 5 minutes it will be raining. Not a cold, miserable rain, but a brisk, fresh rain that soon stops. Thus, the streets are always wet, and the air is always clean feeling, but I do not sense any of the dirty dampness characteristic of London.

I walked through a beautiful old cemetery, covered in moss, each grave its own garden. Names such as Gudmonson, Bjornsdottir and Magnusson are carved into medium sized stones. Most of these dead seemed to have been born between 1830 and 1930, and many lived well past the age of 80 or 90. It was in this cemetery that I got got in one of the more ferocious rain bursts. I attempted to write a postcard, but the rain made doing so impossible.

I walked around a beautiful pond, where locals and tourists fed ducks. I walked again to a huge church in the middle of town and managed to catch the Lord´s Prayer in Icelandic.

Feeling ambitious, I decided to walk the two miles south to a "geothermal beach" marked out in the Lonely Planet Reykjavik map. Two miles is much easier to SAY than to WALK. By the time I reached the beach (after having circumlocuted (is this the correct word? (No, it isn't; the correct word would have been "circumnavigated")) the domestic airport), I reached this beach, only to be very disappointed.

The "geo-" was clearly there. The beach was unpleasantly rocky. Rocky, and not particularly clean. The "thermal" part, however, was nowhere to be found. I put my hand in the water, only to find it freezing. Perhaps arctic water is typically even MORE freezing, but I doubt it. Possibly to the Icelandic the word "thermal" means "dirty, slippery seaweed covering everything." While the rocks were somewhat difficult to navigate, the seaweed growing on them made them difficult to see. Yuck. I had to walk another mile to get away and then climb a rocky, grassy hill to get back to the main path.

I walked through another cemetery, this with more recent and less moss covered stones, and another mile or two of mostly dull suburban neighborhood to get back to central Reykjavik (which I love) and ate my first pylsa or "Icelandic hot dog". For a mere 6 dollars, I got to eat a delicious snack of encased pork remains, along with a Coke to wash it down and a Snickers bar for later. After approximately 5-6 miles of walking and snacking on sugar packets and Nature Valley granola bars, it was a welcome treat.

Feeling much better, I returned to my hostel, dropped off some unnecessary items I had been carrying with me and headed out into the streets for part II of my first day here.

So far I am yet to meet any other travellers. I see them, but none seem too interested in chit chat. We´ll see what the next 24 hours bring.

I drop my anchor, this is where I'm staying

Welcome me to the most beautiful country in the world! After about a day of travelling, I have finally arrived in Reykjavik, checked into the Domus Guesthouse (for 4900 kr plus the cost of a blanket and the cost of breakfast, which should be somewhere around 100 dollars). It is definitely more than I want to pay, but to my surprise, I DO get a bed, the location is great and the breakfast is delicious.


My flights were relatively painless, although I found it difficult to sleep more than a few hours.

1. I was happily surprised on my flight to New York to be seated next to a Chinese 18 month year old and her mother, who happened to also be Chinese. The baby was fortunately very cute, and relatively harmless (although she did spill certain quantities of milk, water and mysterious chopped orange fruit on her mother).

2. The layover in NY was dull. I bought an 8$ Bud Light at the terminal bar and chatted with the guy sitting next to me after I noticed him using a Medtronic insulin pump. I was not thrilled to be talking to him, especially after he mentioned his trip to Thailand by himself, but this is also relatively early in the game and I am not yet used to spending countless hours by myself.

3. Despite not having slept Friday night, and only sleeping a few hours on the previous flight, I barely slept on the way to Reykjavik. I spoke briefly to the Glaswegian who sat two seats over, but we didn't have much in common.

When the sky began to turn light and I could sea the light cloud cover over the North Atlantic, my dread and fear subsided mostly. I remembered suddenly realizing that this is I've wanted to do for years, this is exactly what I want to do and feeling calm despite my hunger and tiredness. In almost any other situation, I would be filled with envy of someone in my current position.

I have not been disappointed by Reykjavik.

The city is quiet now because everyone is still asleep. People party hard here on the weekends, and by Sunday morning the streets are empty, except for the occasional broken bottle.

Today, I hope to get a feel for the city, get grounded, and prepare myself for a 3 day trip in the middle of the week.

Let's meet in Kristiana next summer

I'm not sure I like the name I chose for this blog.

There is no turning back now, though! My trip begins on Saturday. I shall spend a week in Iceland before landing in London. From there, I have planned little, but with my rail pass, Let's Go Guide and sparkling personality, I should have no trouble hopping through England, France, Italy, Croatia, Hungary, Czech Republic, Poland, Germany, the Netherlands and maybe even Austria.

Feel free to comment.

In a few days I'll be entirely on my own with nothing but a gigantic backpack and a Banana Republic jacket between me and the elements of the sub-Arctic!