At a leisurely breakfast today, while waiting for my waffle to cook, I met a guy from Germany. We started talking, and it turns out he is from the Mosel River town of Cochem, where we stayed in 2011. His best friend owns the wine cave where we had the best glass of Reisling the entire trip. In talking, we just could not get over how small the world really is. His girlfriend took a photo of us, and I am hoping to get a copy emailed when they return home.
I had the most fantastic little ginger cookies with breakfast, so I took a couple to have with my coffee later.
We packed up and enjoyed a nice long drive back to Reykjavik. It was rainy of course, but to our surprise it cleared up, the clouds lifted, and then blue sky (just patches of it, not clear blue sky) and the occasional glimpse of sun. So that we wouldn't feel too upset about the good weather, the clouds thoughtfully and quickly gathered and snuffed out the light. We grabbed a quick lunch, said goodbye to Squeak, (SADcars was a great rental company) and spent time reading at the gate, waiting for our flight.
One last note about Iceland: in our bathroom in Vik, there was a green night light. It glowed the same color green as the northern lights, like you see on the postcards.
So now I can truthfully say that yes, I have seen the northern light in Iceland.
Our flight was easy, a "hop across the pond" and we scored good seats this time: I had window, Gail the aisle, and the middle seat was empty.
We landed about 20:00, and after a long wait to get stamped through passport control we caught an airport train to Paddington Station. Get this: the lady sells us the tickets for £19 and tells us to get on at track two. OK, so we get on the train, the ticket guy walks through and we are on the wrong train, going to the right place. This train costs £36. So we have to pay (it is non-stop, not like we can get off) so this "simple" train ride from LHR to Paddington station costs us a total of £55, or about $86 total, instead of the original $30.
I am NOT happy. This is the kind if waste I am usually really good at avoiding, but it seems every trip there is some screw up. But right now, I am not pleased with the London Underground.
Track two, my ass.
When we came up out of the station we were at the corner of a busy street. Double-decker red buses rumble past, black cabs with the bright yellow TAXI lit up zoom to a stop, to wait at the curb, and we are surrounded by people speaking a multitude of languages, including a strange sort of American, but with an obvious accent.
Well, our little, walk-up guest house is in the row-house neighborhoods around Paddington. Where we are in relation to everything else we will figure out in the morning. Right now we settle into our old, smaller room and head out to dinner at a local pub. We end up eating outside, not that it is hot out, but in comparison to Iceland it us rather balmy. It is also dark now, at 20:30. The wine is good, the dinner forgettable, but it it is nice to just be sitting outside, watching life go by on a semi warm evening.