I don’t think I’ve ever met someone from Iceland. We’ve changed planes at Keflavik Airport a couple of times but those brief encounters with customs officials and coffee shop cashiers don’t count. I’ve never had someone say, “Iceland? I’m from Iceland, you know.”
But then again, there are only about 376,000 residents in Iceland, and of those only 324,000 are true Icelanders, the remainder being from away. Almost 50,000 Iceland citizens live outside of Iceland, mostly in Scandinavian countries. There are about 40,000 people of Icelandic descent in the United States, mostly in the Upper Midwest. They came in the late 19th century and after World War II. Canada has a bunch, too. So no wonder I’ve never met an Icelander. It’s a small country with a small population.
But here we are, about to spend two weeks and more finding out what’s up with Iceland. Someone back home asked us, “What in the world are you going to do in Iceland for two weeks. I spent four days in Reykjavik and that was plenty.”
I’m not worried though. I think Iceland has an outsized importance in the world, more of just about everything – culture, scenery, wildlife and history – per capita than just about any place I can think of. OK, maybe Antarctica is right up there, per capita wise, but hey, it’s not a country.
Our flight over took five hours and was uneventful. We had dinner at Legal Seafood at the Boston airport, planning on saying “No, thanks” to Icelandair’s offer of dinner, opting for sleep instead. That proved to be a good choice. Judy claims they offered dinner but I was fast asleep. No breakfast. I slept for four hours, Judy maybe two.
Our taxi driver (“from away” like most taxi drivers in the world) dropped us 100 meters from our hotel’s front door since it’s located on a pedestrian thoroughfare. We had to dodge a painter’s lift truck to get to reception. Most everything in downtown Reykjavik is under construction, it seems.
Our room was ready, even at the early hour of 10 AM. We got settled and started out exploring on foot.
Actually, “on foot” is an apt description of our outing. We’re about as experienced a pair of travelers you could ask for, but even old pros – emphasis on “old” – can mess up once in a while. I took a shower just before leaving home and in dressing for the trip managed to put on on new shoe and one old shoe.
Now fortunately, I always buy black shoes, ones that I can wear hiking during the day and can wear to fancy restaurants that night. Solid black every time, which explains why I ended up the way I did. And my mistake gave us a reason for our outing. We stopped in a half dozen shops before finding one that sold shoes. If you want a genuine Icelandic wool sweater, they’ve got you covered. But shoes? Not so much. I guess most tourists make it to Reykjavik with matching shoes.
Lunch was at a genuine Icelandic crepe shop, just like the one we fell in love with in Amsterdam many years ago.
So far, our contact with Icelanders has been more than positive. Friendly and helpful, every one of them.
We covered a fair amount of ground on our walk. Judy retired early and I continued on to the Hallgrimskirkja Church, which we’ll be visiting for an organ recital.
The pictures will hopefully give a feel for what the town is like. It’s hard to call Reykjavik picturesque or quaint like many Old Town sections of major cities. It feels, to me, like a working town, one that’s dynamic and one that doesn’t let the tourist trade get in the way of people living their lives. Reykjavik sports a lot of wall art on its buildings, both commissioned and graffiti-based, which is quite attractive. It has its own charm, it’s colorful, attractive, clean and neat and I’m looking forward to learning about it from our guide in the coming days.
Nap time is over, the sun is breaking through the cloud deck and I’ve found a fish joint around the corner for dinner. It must be good, judging by the cats waiting impatiently at the back door.
But wait: there’s more. Sage told us about a nearby geothermal-heated swimming pool called Sundholl. Off we went, for a pre-dinner dip. It’s a community thing – free for seniors. You shower and can enter lap pools, hot tubs and kiddie pools. It’s a big facility and seems quite popular with locals and tourists alike.
And the cats were right. The unassuming Reykjavik Fish Restaurant served up Arctic Char (a salmon relative) and a thick, spicy Icelandic fish stew called Plokkari. Really good. A geothermal soak, fish dinner and a beer and we’re about as relaxed as you can get.
We’re on our own until 11:30 AM tomorrow when the formal program begins with a walking tour of downtown.
