After six, sun-filled days and five, blink-and-you-miss-them nights, Iceland is about to become a checked-off, bucket list tick in the rearview mirror of our westbound, Boeing 757. When we land, we'll extend our vacation in Canada for a bit (because we haven't had enough of bi-lingual menus and Easter-colored money) and then point the minivan toward home. With a boxful of duty-free liquor and a credit card full of charges I can't possibly remember, we'll pull into our house this evening and begin the long process of working both our dog and our livers through their respective abandonment issues.
Patty asked me this morning what my most memorable part of the trip was. I couldn't answer. In all fairness, she asked me before my first cup of coffee, so I was still struggling with basic vocalization and motor skills, but, now, fully caffeinated, I'm still struggling. Truth is, I can never really answer that question from any trip. Sure, there are always some moments more memorable than others, but I've come to realize that I like to travel for the sake of it. It must be the predominantly Viking heritage in me (sans the raping and ridiculous, horned headwear). The Germans call it "wandarlust." I guess I never had much of a choice, because thanks to my mother, I can claim that heritage too.
I like being in airports in general (Carol, you're not the only one). I like blindly renting cars in foreign languages to see if I'm going to end up with a Renault or a rickshaw (Note from this trip: a rickshaw is preferable to a diesel Suzuki Vitara). I LOVE memorizing maps of new cities and then walking every inch of that map and photographing the minutia of human existence. I like flawlessly converting between currencies most of the time and then, after a few shots of the local national libation, realizing I just paid $100 for a cheese pizza and a pat of butter. I like funky, foreign hotel toiletries, futuristic plumbing fixtures, and enough electrical current running through my 16th century B&B to accommodate a personal arc welding fetish.
Iceland was amazing. I highly recommend the trip. But then again, I would obviously highly recommend any trip.
If you do go, here are some touristy tips, starting with, most importantly, food:
Hakarl, or the poisonous fermented shark that hardcore Icelanders are known for. In a word, meh. It wasn't at all as gag reflux inducing as Youtube videos would have you believe. It smelled a lot like blue cheese, it looked a lot like chunks of tofu (which, to a carnivore like me, was its least appealing trait), it chewed like foam rubber, and the taste ranged (yes, I ate several pieces) anywhere from warm tuna to ammonia dipped fish oil capsules.
Harofiskur, the dried planks of fish that you can buy everywhere, were something I could see mindlessly eating like peanuts. If you're Italian, think razor thin, bacalan. It's like a dry, tough fish jerky that you eat with butter spread on it. It wasn't great, but it was kind of addicting. Did I mention you cover it with butter?
All other seafood we tried (lobster, tusk, cod, pickerel, unidentifiable stew chunks) was fresh and amazing!
The water. Tap. Drink it. They have the cleanest, freshest water in the world, and aside from a slight, naturally occurring sulfur smell, it was pretty damn amazing. Believe me, when you travel outside the US, clean water is not something you take for granted.
Whale. Yeah, there's controversy. I get it. But I struggle choosing breakfast cereals. How am I supposed to reconcile a social conscience with hundreds of thousands of years of apex predator genetics? Make a PETA donation and then order some. We got ours sashimi style (rare/raw), and the flavor was heavenly. I liked it so much I put a stop order on the PETA check.
Beer. Icelanders love their beer. So do springbreakers in Daytona. After about 11pm, it's the exact same crowd. Just like in the states, there's a microbrew phenomenon happening in Iceland. Just like in the states, anyone who can brew up a Bud Light, add berries and pumpkin spice and design a bitchin' logo is now a master brewer. Be an adult, order a Guinness. Every country in the world has an Irish pub. Iceland has several.
Brennivin. Icelandic schnapps. Unlike "Mad Viking Kitten Pillaging Super IPA," (see above beer comments) this is an authentic Iceland drink. It's kind of a potato vodka flavored with caraway seeds. If you mashed up a loaf of strong rye bread in ouzo, you'd pretty much have the taste. I kinda' liked it. I brought some home. But then it's alcohol, and I'm, well, me.
Scenery. Iceland is a volcanic island. If you took a picture of Hawaii and adjusted the green saturation down by about 50%, that's it. It's rugged, new, otherworldly, and dotted with colorful little farms and futuristic geothermal plants. And just because that's not weird enough, there are snow-capped volcanoes in the background and random plumes of steam coming from flat, treeless plains. A robotic, tyrannosaurus rex loping across said plain chasing a heard of the miniature horses (they actually do exist) would not be out of place. It's basically where every sci-fi movie should ever be filmed, and it's worth going just to see the weirdness. Of course I recommend the touristy geysers, waterfalls and hot springs, too, but you really need to just drive and take in the varied landscape.
Accommodations. Reykjavik is small. Everything is within walking distance. Get a hotel or B&B well off the main drag if you're a city dweller. Partying every night until 3 am is a blast. Trying to sleep in a hotel overlooking that, not so much. If we go back, we'll rent a car, drive completely around the island and stay in small towns along the way. You could probably get by with just two nights in the capital.
Price. Expensive. Everything is. My cousin Thelma told me to buy my liquor at the airport duty free before arriving. It was damn good advice, so I pass it along to you. Use your transaction free credit card for everything (and everyone in Iceland takes credit cards--from drug dealers to the lady selling hand sown sweaters from her farmhouse up in the mountains). AirBnB's are way more affordable than commercial hotels, but make sure you get one with a guaranteed transaction. Rental cars were surprisingly affordable but gas was north of $6 a gallon.
I'll dump the good camera pix when we get home and make one last post then. Until then, cheers!
