- Walk the Sæbraut on your way to Sægreifinn for seafood.
After almost
losing my bag by getting off the FlyBus at the wrong stop, the nice bus station
lady pointed out the way to Bea and Stephan's place. It was not quite 8am, pitch black, and not a soul
about. There might have been a
cat. February in Iceland is sleepy
and gray, but I find subtlety in shadowy blues just as beautiful as technicolor
sundrenched gardens. Houses are mostly
white, about two to three stories, many with small yards, and placed/spaced
uniquely so that a quality of organic sprouting up comes through. My hosts greeted me very kindly if
sleepily and offered breakfast, but the second I saw the bunk beds, I knew a
nap was in order. We all went to
sleep again until midmorning.
For my first
CouchSurfing experience, I thought Iceland seemed pretty safe. A small, peaceful, prosperous country
with the tang of adventurous forbears, I spent a while reading profiles and
zeroed in on a girl about my age.
Her apartment was centrally located, she was a teacher, and had several
positive reviews full of genuine appreciation and liking. She shared the apartment with a German
guy, whom many reviewers commented was equally as nice.
I realized
after the fact that it's easiest to visit the Blue Lagoon springs going to or
from the airport, as they're a bit outside the city. If you're interested in going, plan a visit in accordance
with your flight. Also note the
cheapest admission fee is about $50.
Bea gave me
a key to the front door and a pass for the city pools, several of which are
open outdoor thanks to geothermal heat.
First, I decided to strike out for the harbor and flea market. It was gray and sprinkling rain, but
actually pretty warm, about 40°F (4°C).
I wandered past the behemoth Hallgrímskirkja church (which is austere
and monolithic), and down a main street to a great little café, where for a
not-alarming amount of money (about $8) I enjoyed a cappuccino and real,
crispy, buttery croissant. Then,
down another main road to see—snow-covered mountains! Whoa! The
northeast view from the water is gorgeous, with a gentle curve and that
blue-blue glacier-looking water (even though this is the ocean). I took the Sæbraut
walking path round to the harbor.
The recreational trail stretches along the coast, affording views of
kayakers and whale-watching boats set against distant rock outcroppings and the
mountain-and-sea horizon.
The Kolaportið flea
really was a flea (sorry, Brooklyn Flea, but $10 kimchi tacos and $100 antique
wooden apple crates are not my idea of a flea), with new and re-sale clothes at
cheap prices (lots of knit, lots of wool, and lots of cheap imported stuff),
plus a small food section with mostly fish and bread. There were some promising postcards and sweaters, but I
didn’t bite. I continued to the
famed lobster soup place, Sægreifinn. It's small, with two long, narrow
wooden tables and short stools. My
tummy grumbled for my first real meal in a long time. A plate with warm homemade bread and generous pat of butter
were so good, and the soup very tasty.
Alone it's not a hearty meal, but the lobster soup was perfect—tender,
large chunks in a salty, creamy broth.
When some seats cleared, a nice middle-aged lady across from me struck
up conversation. She was Swiss and
had traveled all over, and planned to try the grilled fish kabobs as well.
 |
| Cute condiments |
Then I
wandered the city over: Skólavörðustígur and the main shopping streets, with
boutiques and touristy stuff, and funny little bars, colorful facades and more
stucco than the residential areas, which are primarily corrugated
tin/steel. (Stephen pointed out
corrugated steel is lightweight and strong—good since all building materials
have to be imported. The trees
that centuries ago forested the country were almost all gone by the 1800s, from
use as fuel, building material, and soil erosion.)
I wandered
by Tjörnin, "the pond," with a crowd of geese and
swans being fed. Up and down the
streets, in grocery stores to see what the selection was like, by nice
bookstores, wool outfitters. I had
my swimsuit and towel, and hiked to the eastern Laugardalslaug,
reportedly the best pool complex.
A large locker room (take your shoes off before going in), was equipped
with lockers with keys on rubber bands, to wear around the ankle, for
free. Shower with soap naked,
everybody's pretty nonchalant about it, and choose between the indoor and outdoor
pools. The indoor was lanes and a
diving pool. The outdoor was
pretty warm—but not hot as a hot tub.
Most people found a jet where the hot water was channeled in and parked
there. I did too. It felt soooo good to take a hot
shower, and you don't have to feel bad because there's plenty of space and the
water's naturally hot. Bea said
most people go to the pool several times a week, often during lunch, to
socialize and hang out in the water.
Every neighborhood has a pool, and all ages are there.
It was about
two miles from the pool to central downtown, and while not desolate, the
walking paths by the highway were a bit forlorn. Probably the wet, dead grass and basalt-y ice didn't
help. Happily, Bea greeted my
return with tea and a lap blanket.
Bea likes experimenting in the kitchen, and made a good mishmash for
dinner of veggies and seafood with cumin over rice. My contribution was a package of brownie mix I brought from
home, which was baked and entirely consumed by the three of us after dinner.
We talked travel and politics, Stephen regaling us with his favorite
jokes from The Daily Show. It was incredibly homey, the
conversation flowed, and I was so happy to not be alone in a hostel.
The next
morning, Sunday, there was quite a song of church bells, so I got up and
wandered over to hear the boys' choir and organ. I went in the Hallgrímskirkja in the middle of the sermon in
nice Icelandic tones. The sun was
coming out from the clouds and rising past the windows behind the altar. The church is very plain, modern in
design, with almost no decoration, art, or color. Discreetly cushioned pews were backed with empty hymnal
holders. After about twenty
minutes I snuck out to the bell tower.
Its height and the church’s location on the highest hill provide great
views overlooking the city, revealing colorful roofs and clusters of brightly
painted houses.
 |
| Rainbow cityscape |
It was time
for a hot dog. Back down to the
harbor, the streets were fairly quiet, but it is Sunday morning. The "best" stand, Bæjarins beztu, is always popular—about twenty people came in the time I ate my
very good dog on toasted bun with onions, ketchup, honey mustard, and
(according to Bea) remoulade, which was like mayo-relish. I thought about eating a second, but
instead walked up a road next to a very mossy, woodsy, cemetery. It was full, with little sections
fenced in and many areas without paths.
There was still some old soft snow in the shade. I also reverenced the past by visiting
The Culture House museum, viewing old manuscripts (some of the oldest copies of
Icelandic sagas) and brushed up on Icelandic literature. There was a neat room with recreated
tools and vellum and skins and the story of book binding, from scraping hides
to making ink.
The bezt hot dog in town.
That night
Bea and I chatted about traveling, and child rearing in Iceland. Apparently, fathers take about an equal
part in childcare, and in general life is more about being with family and
enjoying time together than about career.
Babies until about two years old are put outside to sleep in enclosed
strollers, with plenty of wool clothes.
Bea's uncle did this in Germany, and the neighbors called the
police. She says it's traditional,
and they sleep very well.
Bea offered
me slippers and tea, and I packed for the next leg of my trip (off to
Norway). She and Stephen were so
nice, educated, fun, and had a talent for laidback domesticity. They’re not naïve about the world, but
are positive and enjoy meeting people from all over just for the sake of
it. When I travel, I usually I
focus on the unique buildings, landscapes, and foods, but the people who live
and perpetuate the culture of the place are every bit as fascinating and the
relationship we form just as memorable.
