Break-ya-bank, Priceland |
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by
tasneemjd
I whimsically accepted an offer to travel with my friend to the
northern-most capital in the world and points east. The
conversation went something like this . . .
"Hey, wanna go to Australia?"
"Yeah!"
(several months pass)
"Ummmm, Australia is too far and too expensive to fly to -
how about Iceland?"
"Yeah!"
(few more week go by)
"Why don't we add Denmark too?"
"Yeah!"
And so, taking advantage of Iceland Air's offer to fly to a
European city and for no extra charge, stop over in Iceland for
three days, we took off and arrived in Reykjavik, Iceland, a.k.a.
Break-ya-bank, Priceland
Day One: The Land of Puffins, Prices, and Popp Rokk
Having flown all night, we arrived in Reykjavik, staggered our way
through customs, hit the ATM (Fun Fact: Iceland is one of the most
expensive countries in the world, second only to Japan!), and
threw our sleep-deprived bodies into the FlyBus shuttle from the
Keflavik airport to the capital. We got our first views of the
Icelandic landscape which was decidedly lunar-like with its dark
lava fields covered lightly in moss. We were dropped off in the
heart of Old Reykjavik and checked into the Salvation Army
Guesthouse which was much more pleasant than we expected. Our new
home was in a perfect location, just north of Tjörn lake (teeming
with waterfowl and children) and west of the street Bankastrćti
(teeming with shops, cafés, and tourist information centers that
employed chilly-demeanored personnel). We dropped off our luggage
in our garret room which was so tiny that you couldn't swing a
puffin in there. I could stretch my arm and leg and touch the
opposite walls. Trust me; I tried it.
Attempting to follow the walking tour suggested by a guidebook, we
ended up walking clear across Old Town and reached the bus station
at the other end of town without finding any open cafés in which
to have our breakfast/dinner. Neither locals nor tourists were to
be seen on that early Saturday morning. I would not have been
surprised to see tumbleweed-like snowballs drifting down the
street and to hear someone whistling the theme song to "The
Good, The Bad, and The Ugly". Doubling back, we found Kaffitár,
the #2 champions in the 2003 World Barista Competition. We were
surprised at how good the bagels were in Reykjavik and Kaffitár
became our favorite coffee/bagel hangout (Fun Fact #2: USD$8 for a
bagel with cheese and a swiss mocha!). We watched some ice-blond
children feeding ducks and gulls at Tjörn lake until the
chilliness and bone-tiredness hit us and we returned to our
mini-room for naps.
Refreshed, we strolled around the town until we reached the end of
the main street again which did not take very long. Apparently,
the exchange rate is one American step = five Icelandic steps. We
leaped and bounded back up the street and decided to try Icelandic
Thai food for lunch at Nudlehaus. The black noodles were topped
with what we originally suspected were raw shrimp and then figured
were canned shrimp but at any rate were gross. Score negative one
for Icelandic cuisine. We strolled around Austurvöllur park which
had an amazing exhibit of Yann Arthus-Bertrand's "Earth from
Above" photographs. Afterwards, we parked ourselves at Café
Paris for a three-hour coffee break and before we knew it, it was
9 p.m. and the sun had disappeared! It had been completely
obscured by clouds all day, but by night, it was really
"night" - no midnight sun, no insanity, nothing. We
later learned that only in July are there a couple hours of
darkness in southern Iceland. Since it was dark and surprisingly
quiet for a Saturday night, we decided to pack it in.
Day Two: Bláa Lóniđ
After a good night's sleep on comfortable beds with thick
blankets, we stacked up our beds, packed our few belongings, and
said goodbye to the weeping baby portrait hung on the
candy-colored walls of our single room to shift over to a double
room. Kaffitár did not open until 10 a.m., so we occupied
ourselves by walking along the main street, loitering by the
harbor, and counting ducks. Over breakfast, we leafed through the
local paper where several news-worthy ducks made the front page
(seven ducks on the front page and another five geese on the
second page). Bellies and minds fed, we returned to our spacious
double room to get ready for our excursion to Iceland's famous Bláa
Lóniđ, or the Blue Lagoon. The geothermal spa boasts healing
power water that is warm (38°C/100°F year-round), silky (from
the mineral salts, silica, and blue-green algae), and dreamy
(clouds of vapor surround the pool and the lava rocks beyond).
The bus picked us up at the Guesthouse and we arrived at the Blue
Lagoon about 40 minutes later. We ran from the bus through the
chilly mist to face our biggest fear: the communal shower.
Icelandic protocol requires all patrons to shower sans swimsuits
before entering the pool. All accounts thus far indicated that we
would have to join throngs of naked swimmers jostling for
positions under the shower sprays. One helpful individual
suggested we "just suck it up." Our fears were allayed
when we entered the locker room with electronic-key bracelets and
saw that there was a bathroom in which to change clothes and
several cubicles with shower curtains. Whew! The indoor pool led
to the outdoor pool where several areas were available to explore:
the silica mud dispenser stations where one can glop Iceland's #1
skin-care product on one's face to draw out impurities, the
intense waterfall that pounds one's shoulders, and the sauna that
can lull one to sleep (and/or suffocation) in an instant.
Definitely an experience to be had.
Back in Reykjavik, we walked along the coastline and clambered
over Sólfar, a metal sculpture of a Viking ship. We treated
ourselves to a meal at the relatively inexpensive Kebob Husio of
fried fish and kebabs, and then warmed up with some coffee at
Svarta Kaffiđ. We chatted amiably for hours, sipping on our
mochas and observing the clientele, when suddenly, in
mid-conversation, I gasped "We don't have any money
left!" We had spent our last bit of Icelandic kroners on our
trip to the Blue Lagoon having received false information that the
bus took credit cards. Luckily, the café took plastic so we were
saved the embarrassment of not having enough money to pay for two
coffees. On our way back home, we wandered around Yann's exhibit
again (Fun Fact #3: touring over 20 countries for more than 30
million visitors, the photography display is the world's most seen
exhibition ever!). A round of cards, a review of the next day's
itinerary, and a sound sleep all around.
Day Three: Gullfoss and Geysir
Kaffitár was hopping that early Monday morning, so we ordered our
breakfast to go and went to enjoy it in a patch of rare sunshine
on a bench at Tjörn lake. This time, not only did we count the
ducks, we fed some as well. One geezer duck came right up to us to
be fed and I think I may have contracted duckpox when I hand-fed a
half-blind duck and he mistook my fingertip for a piece of the
bagel. We made our daily trek up the main street to book a
six-hour tour with Iceland Excursions that day and returned for a
power-nap.
The tour of South Central Iceland began with ţingvellir (the ţ
is pronounced as a "th" as in "Thor's
Hammer"), the setting of the first parliamentary house
established in 930 A. D. (and by "house" I mean wide,
open fields precariously resting on a still-active rift between
the continental plates of Europe and North America) and later, the
first national park established almost 1000 years later. Close to
the beautiful, crystal-clear ţinvallavatn, Iceland's largest
lake, one can see the Öxaráfoss waterfall (Fun Fact #4: women
found guilty of crimes such as having illegitimate children were
executed by being tied up in bags and tossed into the immensely
powerful waterfall which led to Drekkingarhylur, The Drowning
Pool!). At the wishing-well spring Peningagjá, we looked
longingly at the numerous shiny coins glittering in the chasm that
mocked our empty pockets. The pure silence and beauty of the area
was palpable and it would have been easy to lose hours and hours
just admiring the scenery.
On our way to the next spot, we stopped at a farm in the
countryside for an unexpected treat of being greeted by the
handsome Icelandic horses. Friendly, soft, and gentle-natured, the
horses came right up to the road and allowed us to pet them. They
were so docile and short-statured that we were tempted to call
them "ponies," but our guide warned the group not to
call them that because that would upset the farmers who take great
pride in their purebred Equus scandinavicus.
Gullfoss (the Golden Waterfall) provided us with a great place to
take pictures of the glacial river Hvitá's long drop (11 meters
and then another 21 meters of rushing, falling water) and to snack
on granola bars (our version of lunch in Priceland). If the sun
was shining, we could have seen a rainbow, but it wasn't and we
didn't and so we moved on to see the Great Geysir. The English
word "geyser" is derived from the Icelandic word "geysir"
which means gusher and all of the world's spouting hot springs are
named after this one. The petulant Great Geysir was not in action
that hour, but the nearby geyser Strokkur (The Churn) erupts every
5-7 minutes. If you time it just right and don't get distracted by
a bit of sunshine that may suddenly appear behind you and wait for
the big, blue bubble to appear at the mouth of Strokkur, you can
catch its white column of boiling hot, sulfuric water that
furiously shoots up as high as 20-30 meters.
On the way back to Reykjavik, we stopped at the 3000 year old
explosion crater Kerió that is filled by a symmetrical green
lake. We drove through the clouds along a mountainous path and
Odin (yes, that was our guide's name) told us tales of trolls
(apparently they like blueberries and dislike sunshine), the
shortage - and shortness - of trees (classic Icelandic joke:
Q-What do you do if you are lost in an Icelandic forest? A-Stand
up!) and golfers (every town has a golf course because they are
thought to be classy even though not many Icelanders play). Upon
our return, we thought we'd try out the restaurant Pasta Basta for
dinner and figured even Iceland couldn't get pasta wrong. Result:
score negative two.
Day Four: Aloha, Iceland. Aloha, Denmark.
We had an early morning breakfast at Café Paris of smoked salmon
(although at first, the waitress brought us some lamb; presumably,
she heard "smoked lambon") which was very good and
finally scored Iceland a positive point in the culinary ratings.
Quick stops at Kaffitár for our last bit of award-winning coffee
and croissants, quick stop at Hallgrímskirkja church that was
built to resemble a jet of lava, and quick stop at our room to
pack. We confirmed that the FlyBus that was to take us to the
airport did accept credit cards (because at that point we didn't
have two kroners to rub together) and bid adieu to Iceland and
hello to Denmark. |
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