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.
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.
posted by Jed at 5:58 PM
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