Well, somehow yesterday just rolled right into today; we found ourselves driving through a big, empty, cold grey landscape. The wet black ribbon of road disappeared over a hill, wound around another hill, up and over then curved left and shrunk to a point in the distance. Streams of light shot through here and there, there was a misty virga over the distant mountains, valleys and cliffs outlined white against the black rock, and steam was rising here and there. There seemed to be these rough-carved statues of tall, fierce people grouped here, and here... and another group there, watching over the dark grey ocean. As we drew nearer they turned into rock stacks; tall slender rocks turned up with another balanced just so on top. Because there are no trees, they stand out, guarding the road from the sea. At 8:00 the 40km road to town was practically empty.
Way off we could see the city hugging the shore ahead. We headed to the Butterfly Guesthouse, down near the waterfront. This sounds more impressive than it is, all of Reykjavik is near the waterfront. The population of Reykjavik is about 110,000 so it is not much bigger than Redding. Our guesthouse is in the "old town" section, and was built around 1928, so the actual city itself seems much newer than a lot of places we have been.
It was not hard to find our way in and park, and though we were early, we were warmly welcomed and offered coffee and biscuits. Our room, #3 is pretty large, plain, with a very small camper-like bathroom retrofitted into the corner. We look out to the colorful street, and there are heavy curtains for the windows since, it turns out, it never gets dark out. The kitchen is self serve, we have our own storage cabinet and refrigerator shelf, and the common area is really warm and cozy. It is almost like a hostel with eight rooms; two with private bath, two loft apartments, and four rooms that share two baths. (Right now, as I type this, it is the morning of the third day and I am down on the couch, making coffee. Good strong coffee, as a matter of fact. Maybe it is the fresh ground, aromatic coffee, or the hot hot sulfur-tinged water, but this is a GREAT cup!)
After dropping our luggage we set out, walking down and around the corner, into a colorful, cute, "old" neighborhood. Some houses are wood, some are made of that corrugated tin siding, thick sheets bolted together, painted bright red or blue with windows framed in white wood trim. Lots of flowers, little trash on the streets, and the street signs are typical European except they substitute yellow for white, as in the "no entry" signs, usually a red circle with white bar, here the bar is yellow. Most stores are closed (Sunday morning) restaurants are just opening, church bells are ringing from the modern looking Lutheran (!) cathedral, and so we just head off and explore along the waterfront. We find the famous Sun Voyager sculpture, and go in the newly built, glass Harpa Concert Hall which has a fantastic, light airy feel to it.
We ended up at Icelandic Fish & Chips, organic bistro, just around the corner from our guesthouse. I am not really a fan of fish & chips: too greasy and heavy for me, with those big hunks of too-much-to-eat white fish... This fish was light, crispy, thin filets of fresh-this-morning haddock, with a yogurt dipping sauce. It felt like you were eating crispy, clean, fish tasting air. So now I am a fan. The fries were rosemary garlic, all on a bed of lettuce with vinaigrette dressing. Yum! While we were eating the mist turned to rain, then heavy rain. As we walked home dodging drips from the gutters, a passing car soaked Gail.
We huddled in our room, turned on the heater (everything is heated with natural hot water here, right from the ground. The floors and roads have hot water piped beneath them, and our room has a hot water, radiant heater under the window.) and dried out. We unpacked and I sat down with a map to make a plan for the afternoon.
We drove over to South-East part of Reykjavik where four things were kind of clustered. First was the Kringlan, a three story mall. "Stay away from 'dere!" The innkeeper warned me, man to man. It was a typical mall, but the stores have different names. Mostly American pop rock playing on the radio.
We drove up to the Perlan, a glass dome on top of four or six impressive hot water tanks, on a hill above the city. The tanks are filled with natural spring water, at 175 degrees, and it is piped all through Reykjavik. The dome is four stories up, with a cafe and observation deck all around. There is a geysir right there, on the grounds, and I watched it erupt like Old Faithful.
From there we drove through a miniature "forest" of cute little trees (funny how any tree looks like a forest in a barren land) down past the University of Reykjavik, to a place I really really wanted to go: Nauthólsvik Beach. It is right on the ocean, with golden sand and shells imported from Morocco! Best of all, hot water from the Perlan is pipped down the hill to fill a large, concrete hot tub right at the edge of the beach, in the bay! Luckily for us, I decided to test the water before we changed to go in. Instead of changing into swimsuits, we changed our minds! The "hot" water was maybe a lukewarm 80 degrees, shallow, and between the cold rain and wind, well, the brave souls out there must be from near the Arctic Circle.
Oh. Wait.
Snap! That's where we are!
So, back we headed to the local hot swimming pool in our neighborhood, where we paid 550isk each to enter (about $4). We grabbed lockers, changed, showered and went swimming in a warm pool, and soaking in our choice of hot tubs, ranging in temperature from 100 to 120 degrees. Now THAT was a nice two hours in the rain. We almost fell asleep in the water, but were invigorated when we got out.
Back to the room to change, a glass of wine in the room (rooms, food, and especially wine and beer are really, really expensive here. We were tipped off to buy wine upon arrival at the airport at the tax-free, duty-free store. Sure enough, it was absolutely packed with locals, and we found out today it was a great idea, here in the land of the 2500isk glass of wine!) and we headed out at 20:00 to find a place to eat.
After walking the main downtown street, we decided to go to Tapas, where I was able to try small amounts of traditional Icelandic food at a reasonable price. Gail had a "safe" tapa of bread with hummus and tapenade, while I tried the fun stuff: Minke Whale with cranberry and malt sauce, Smoked Puffin with blueberry brennivin sauce, Lobster tails baked in garlic, Icelandic Sea-trout with pepper salsa, Pan fried Blue Ling with lobster sauce, and Grilled Icelandic Lamb samfaina. The dessert was white chocolate skyr mousse with passion fruit, and the aperitif was a shot of "the infamous Icelandic spirit, Brennivin."
Well. Let me tell you.
The whale was tasty, dark dark meat, a little gamey and less like fish, and not tough and chewy like you'd think. The puffin, those cute, colorful billed "northern flying penguins" that are all the rage in the souvenir stores, they are dee-licious! Not at all like chicken, by the way. Lobster was great, sea trout is like salmon in a tasty sauce, and the blue ling was excellent, like swordfish. The lamb was good too, not at all "sheepy" tasting.
The Brennivin I could leave, tastes like Ouzo in Greece (licorice). The dessert... uh, but I am not usually much for desserts.
We walked back to our room in the midnight sun (dull cloudy grey sun) for a last glass of wine.
I awake just once, at 3:00. Sure enough, it is light out; light enough to read in the room without turning on the lights. But I am still tired from the long day, and just think, "cool" before I fall back asleep.