I used to think that visiting a new place was rather scary, especially when it's a country that speaks a different language. There are so many new things that it can be overwhelming. However, as we have become master travelers (:-)), we actually look forward to these new experiences now. It is always exciting!
First, I assumed that our "international" Nuvi GPS would work in Iceland since categorically Iceland is in Europe (and our GPS works for Europe). What a surprise to find that Iceland apparently is not in Europe according to Nuvi. And an even greater surprise was to discover that I needed to find Wi-Fi, plug the destination into the Maps app on my phone, let the directions download, and then leave for the ultimate destination. Until I figured all this out, I was taking screen shots of the directions, and we were going old school. Yep, actually LOOKING at street signs and using the odometer. And by the way, when the directions are in miles, and your car is in kilometers, you take the miles, multiply by 5, and divide by 3 to get the correct number of kilometers. Of course, by the time you've done this, your husband has driven another mile, and everything is a world of hurt :-)
After a nice nap, we headed out. John wanted to see the town, and of course we hoofed it from the hotel to the Fussgaenger Zone. There were funny things to see along the way, and I do not kid you when I say that my inner Asian came out. I was taking pictures of everything!
I honestly can't say what the fascination is with the city of Philadelphia, but we have now seen
Philadelphia in Torun, Poland and here in Reykjavik. Don't know why, but it's there. City of Brotherly Love, I guess.
"Holt" appears to be the word for hollow, although every time I see it, the street is on a hill. However, when it's paired with "As", it makes for a crude but very funny joke. Can you imagine living on this street?
I've only been here a day and I'm missing my kids something terrible. Not that I want to return home, but I wish they were here, enjoying all of this with us (but on their own dime, of course). When I saw this store, I had to take a picture.
Too, who would imagine that after talking to Beth this past weekend about Grammy's fascination with Chuck Norris that we would stumble across this special place? I've enlarged the picture so that you can read the hilarious quotes on the window.
Even crazier? Seeing a woman walking with a red Merle Aussie, complete with one blue eye and one brown. And more crazy? Her noticing that I was stalking her and taking photos. #creeper
Oh my goodness, there are so many shops here. Blocks and blocks of shops. And everything is in such good taste. And such expensive taste. The Icelandic wool sweaters are the souvenir of choice, but I do believe people must take them home and throw them in their cedar chests, because it will take a strong person to wear those scratchy things without three base layers underneath. And let's face it--if you already have three base layers, you don't really need the sweater. And so many coats, many of them with the coveted chest pockets.
Something I noticed here in Iceland that has absolutely nothing to do with Iceland itself is my husband's eyes here. John labels his eyes as "green", but I do believe they have been green two days of the 27 years we have been married. Hazel is probably a better choice, but today of all days, they proved to be a rich amber color. And knowing what I now know about amber and its many color variations, he definitely has all of them covered within his eye. Thanks, babe, for holding still while driving so I could take this photo :-)
Also, John's YUM! stock is obviously doing well here in Iceland.
Street signs and round abouts. Both are extremely helpful when traveling, but I do believe the Icelanders could learn a thing or two from the actual Europeans who also drive using street directions. In continental Europe and the U.K., they actually manage to fit all of the directions for the roundabout around one circle on one sign. Iceland seems to think that they need a separate sign for each direction. As John said, that's a lot of unnecessary cutting in the metal shop. :-)
The island looks like the moon. Everything is lava. On the plus side, no kid has the laborious job of mowing the lawn.
So while standing in the airport waiting to rent our car earlier in the day, John had decided that we were going to the Blue Lagoon. Seeing as it's a ten minute drive from the airport, he was hoping to buy an 8 a.m. ticket (it was 7 a.m. at that point) for the lagoon and head on over. Turns out, they were sold out until the evening. So, after our stroll downtown, we headed out to the lagoon. I had made the executive decision that we would also be eating at the restaurant there.
Turns out, Lava (the restaurant) is a great place to eat. And not surprising, you could feed a third world country with the money we paid for two entrees, a Pepsi, and a shared dessert.
Butter. Thick Creamery Butter.
Wait. Hugh Jackman aka Leopoldo will have to wait for another day....
However, I have no doubt that Leopold would have approved of any and every kind of butter we've sampled in the twelve hours we've been in Iceland. As far as I can tell, butter is a really big deal here. And I don't have a problem with that at all.
There were huge pats of "Icelandic butter" warmed and soft sitting next to the dark brown, also warm bread that we had for breakfast. Goodness, I ate until I couldn't stuff another piece in my mouth.
Then, at dinner, the butter was brought out on a lava rock, all whipped and creamy and topped with something black and delicious (turns out it's truffles). I do believe that my ratio of butter to bread might be dysfunctional.
And then, thinking that I would need to wait until the next morning for my next installment of fat on my hips, the Icelanders treated me to a piece of heaven: a butter cream dipping sauce for my steak fries. That's right, baby. Not a single bottle of Heinz in sight. Where has this country BEEN all my life?
Of course, the entree wasn't going to be outdone by some pedestrian street food. The beef tenderloin
pulled out all the stops. Seriously, that steak looked like a steak mountain on my plate. I have no problem downing eight ounces of sirloin at Texas Roadhouse once a week, but this thing was ginormous. And of course it was cooked to perfection. In other words, no sending it back to the kitchen (I'm looking at you Andy Armadillo). And I couldn't resist the carmelized onions sitting directly on top of it. Of course, since John ordered the cod, he was done in no time and was happy to finish my leftovers.
You know, experiencing all this decadence, you can imagine what I was thinking about dessert. John didn't want one (again, he might have been banking on the fact that I never finish anything on my plate), but I didn't need more than two seconds to choose the chocolate raspberry mousse. I know, I can see you licking your lips right now, imaging some gorgeous confection in a chilled bowl.
This is what came out:
And all I could say to John is that this is what Master Chef is all about. All those times we see the plates created on that show and don't have what they are serving but want it oh-so-badly? This was our moment.
And you know what? It was absolutely delicious. It was chocolate mousse, and some vanilla stuff, and raspberry and licorice. That's right, licorice. Turns out, licorice is a traditional Icelandic food. And it was hidden in the chocolate mousse. Goodness, it was so delicious.
And the best part of the meal? I didn't leave feeling sick, or stuffed, or bloated. It was a revelation, for sure.
And onto the climax of the day: the Blue Lagoon.
The Blue Lagoon is a geothermal spa located in a lava field south of Reykjavik. The water contains silica and sulphur and is supposed to be therapeutic. The temperature never changes from 98-104 degrees (C). So here we are, in freezing cold air, but sitting in nature's hot tub...except Mother Nature knows what's up because it's not so hot that you need to get out after a few minutes. Noooooo. In fact, we stayed in for an hour and a half, and only then got out because it was closing.
Too, the place provides free Silica Mud Masks. There is a bar in the water with big tubs lining the counter. You reach your hand in and scoop out however much mud you want. It's white mud, and it's supposed to go all over your face. I ended up liking it so much that after we washed off the first round, we went back for a second.
John loved the place because it was so mystical. The steam constantly comes off the water, and with the lava mountains surrounding the water, and the sky stretching its endless fingers up above, it's surreal to be there. I told John that we will definitely need to send one of our kids on their honeymoon here--it's incredibly romantic, and isolated, and amazing.
The locker room was another story, but in all honesty, I've never met a locker room that I liked. But thankfully, the place provided bottles upon bottles of conditioner for our poor Silica-ravaged hair.
I can already tell that I'm going to need to plan another trip to Iceland in the future. We will obviously just get a small sampling of the country over the next five days. But if the butter is any indication, it will be a rich, creamy, buttery sample, served on a lava rock.
Today, was an unplanned day. We arrived at the airport, and with a four hour time difference (and no sleep on the plane), I knew that we would need time to sleep. However, I figured we would spend the rest of the day just wandering around Reykjavik, getting to know the place. We ended up doing that...and MORE!
You'll notice the nice "NO SERVICE" notification on the top of the screen. So glad to be constantly reminded of that.
And I'm sure by now you've noticed this choice Icelandic language. Oh goodness, the laughs we have had, trying to pronounce anything. The best was our bill for dinner:
At least I can understand "Pepsi Max"!
And in case you're wondering about the conversion rate, just assume that everything in Iceland costs a million dollars. That way you won't feel alarmed when you realize how much it actually does cost. But for real, take any price and divide by 100 (or remove the last two digits and the decimal point). So, yes, you don't have it wrong. Our dinner cost $145.
And in case you're wondering about the conversion rate, just assume that everything in Iceland costs a million dollars. That way you won't feel alarmed when you realize how much it actually does cost. But for real, take any price and divide by 100 (or remove the last two digits and the decimal point). So, yes, you don't have it wrong. Our dinner cost $145.
After a nice nap, we headed out. John wanted to see the town, and of course we hoofed it from the hotel to the Fussgaenger Zone. There were funny things to see along the way, and I do not kid you when I say that my inner Asian came out. I was taking pictures of everything!I honestly can't say what the fascination is with the city of Philadelphia, but we have now seen
Philadelphia in Torun, Poland and here in Reykjavik. Don't know why, but it's there. City of Brotherly Love, I guess.
"Holt" appears to be the word for hollow, although every time I see it, the street is on a hill. However, when it's paired with "As", it makes for a crude but very funny joke. Can you imagine living on this street?
I've only been here a day and I'm missing my kids something terrible. Not that I want to return home, but I wish they were here, enjoying all of this with us (but on their own dime, of course). When I saw this store, I had to take a picture.Too, who would imagine that after talking to Beth this past weekend about Grammy's fascination with Chuck Norris that we would stumble across this special place? I've enlarged the picture so that you can read the hilarious quotes on the window.
Oh my goodness, there are so many shops here. Blocks and blocks of shops. And everything is in such good taste. And such expensive taste. The Icelandic wool sweaters are the souvenir of choice, but I do believe people must take them home and throw them in their cedar chests, because it will take a strong person to wear those scratchy things without three base layers underneath. And let's face it--if you already have three base layers, you don't really need the sweater. And so many coats, many of them with the coveted chest pockets.
Something I noticed here in Iceland that has absolutely nothing to do with Iceland itself is my husband's eyes here. John labels his eyes as "green", but I do believe they have been green two days of the 27 years we have been married. Hazel is probably a better choice, but today of all days, they proved to be a rich amber color. And knowing what I now know about amber and its many color variations, he definitely has all of them covered within his eye. Thanks, babe, for holding still while driving so I could take this photo :-)
Also, John's YUM! stock is obviously doing well here in Iceland.
Street signs and round abouts. Both are extremely helpful when traveling, but I do believe the Icelanders could learn a thing or two from the actual Europeans who also drive using street directions. In continental Europe and the U.K., they actually manage to fit all of the directions for the roundabout around one circle on one sign. Iceland seems to think that they need a separate sign for each direction. As John said, that's a lot of unnecessary cutting in the metal shop. :-)
The island looks like the moon. Everything is lava. On the plus side, no kid has the laborious job of mowing the lawn.
So while standing in the airport waiting to rent our car earlier in the day, John had decided that we were going to the Blue Lagoon. Seeing as it's a ten minute drive from the airport, he was hoping to buy an 8 a.m. ticket (it was 7 a.m. at that point) for the lagoon and head on over. Turns out, they were sold out until the evening. So, after our stroll downtown, we headed out to the lagoon. I had made the executive decision that we would also be eating at the restaurant there.
Turns out, Lava (the restaurant) is a great place to eat. And not surprising, you could feed a third world country with the money we paid for two entrees, a Pepsi, and a shared dessert.
Butter. Thick Creamery Butter.
Wait. Hugh Jackman aka Leopoldo will have to wait for another day....
However, I have no doubt that Leopold would have approved of any and every kind of butter we've sampled in the twelve hours we've been in Iceland. As far as I can tell, butter is a really big deal here. And I don't have a problem with that at all.
There were huge pats of "Icelandic butter" warmed and soft sitting next to the dark brown, also warm bread that we had for breakfast. Goodness, I ate until I couldn't stuff another piece in my mouth.
Then, at dinner, the butter was brought out on a lava rock, all whipped and creamy and topped with something black and delicious (turns out it's truffles). I do believe that my ratio of butter to bread might be dysfunctional.
And then, thinking that I would need to wait until the next morning for my next installment of fat on my hips, the Icelanders treated me to a piece of heaven: a butter cream dipping sauce for my steak fries. That's right, baby. Not a single bottle of Heinz in sight. Where has this country BEEN all my life?
Of course, the entree wasn't going to be outdone by some pedestrian street food. The beef tenderloin
You know, experiencing all this decadence, you can imagine what I was thinking about dessert. John didn't want one (again, he might have been banking on the fact that I never finish anything on my plate), but I didn't need more than two seconds to choose the chocolate raspberry mousse. I know, I can see you licking your lips right now, imaging some gorgeous confection in a chilled bowl.
This is what came out:
And all I could say to John is that this is what Master Chef is all about. All those times we see the plates created on that show and don't have what they are serving but want it oh-so-badly? This was our moment.
And you know what? It was absolutely delicious. It was chocolate mousse, and some vanilla stuff, and raspberry and licorice. That's right, licorice. Turns out, licorice is a traditional Icelandic food. And it was hidden in the chocolate mousse. Goodness, it was so delicious.
And the best part of the meal? I didn't leave feeling sick, or stuffed, or bloated. It was a revelation, for sure.
And onto the climax of the day: the Blue Lagoon.
The Blue Lagoon is a geothermal spa located in a lava field south of Reykjavik. The water contains silica and sulphur and is supposed to be therapeutic. The temperature never changes from 98-104 degrees (C). So here we are, in freezing cold air, but sitting in nature's hot tub...except Mother Nature knows what's up because it's not so hot that you need to get out after a few minutes. Noooooo. In fact, we stayed in for an hour and a half, and only then got out because it was closing.
Too, the place provides free Silica Mud Masks. There is a bar in the water with big tubs lining the counter. You reach your hand in and scoop out however much mud you want. It's white mud, and it's supposed to go all over your face. I ended up liking it so much that after we washed off the first round, we went back for a second.
John loved the place because it was so mystical. The steam constantly comes off the water, and with the lava mountains surrounding the water, and the sky stretching its endless fingers up above, it's surreal to be there. I told John that we will definitely need to send one of our kids on their honeymoon here--it's incredibly romantic, and isolated, and amazing.
The locker room was another story, but in all honesty, I've never met a locker room that I liked. But thankfully, the place provided bottles upon bottles of conditioner for our poor Silica-ravaged hair.
I can already tell that I'm going to need to plan another trip to Iceland in the future. We will obviously just get a small sampling of the country over the next five days. But if the butter is any indication, it will be a rich, creamy, buttery sample, served on a lava rock.
My fish meal was great, so was Mommy's leftover beef tenderloin, so was the beautiful blue lagoon, we had a great time!
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