We found ourselves at one point in a restaurant on the docks, where we enjoyed a buffet of fresh fish of various species, including Salted Cod, Arctic Char, Arctic Wolf Fish, Salmon, and even more Cod, along with a delicious red pepper soup. It was easily our favorite meal of the trip, and my Flying Companion in particular was obsessed with the Arctic Char. The closest thing to a letdown was the Arctic Wolf Fish, whish was only “pretty good,” while everything else was amazing.
We went into a great many shops, searching for our souvenirs. Originally, we’d been set on a lopapeysa, the traditional Icelandic wool sweater, but the wool proved too scratchy for my Flying Companion, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I wear sweaters like once a year, so I instead found a beautiful green wool blanket. I use blankets pretty frequently. My Flying Companion eventually found for herself a lovely necklace, created by a local artist using small lava stones set into a silver disc and attached to a silver chain.
Also in these shops we discovered that vikings and puffins are the big thing for touristy tchotzkes, and can be found plastered on everything from thimbles to functional drinking horns, which are made from ox horn, according to the signs put up by every display we saw. These shops are fun for a while, but very similar, and if one spends too much time in them, begin to impart a bit of theme park feel.
A great way to recover from this feeling is to check out some of the cool bars, my favorite of which was The Irishman, a breathtaking bar with plush leather seats, intricately carved woodwork, friendly staff, and two Englishmen who played darts and made fun of each other in a loud and very entertaining manner. I expect my Flying Companion preferred the Lebowski Bar, a bar themed after the movie with which it shares its name. I admit it was pretty awesome, lots of rugs, multiple versions of the white russian, and on the night we went, a music quiz which we did not win.
There was also, diagonally across from our apartment, a small convenience store where we had tasty hamburgers and met a friendly young lady from the States, who’d moved to Iceland about six months ago and seemed quite happy there. And just a few paces further down that road was a place where we enjoyed many servings of the drug of choice for Iceland: ice cream.
We were told before our trip that ice cream is a big deal in Iceland, but that did not actually prepare us, so allow me to try and prepare you. Imagine if you were walking down a city street in the US, but instead of every phone you saw, there was an ice cream cone. You know how in old movies, everyone is constantly smoking? It’s like that, except it’s ice cream. Or like how everyone has their own water bottle they’re always carrying around like a baby with a bottle?
Yup. Ice cream. And let me tell you, friends and neighbors, it’s contagious. We definitely ate more ice cream than either of us does in any given three month period, and thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. Try the rhubarb.
At one point we met the friendliest man in Iceland, and his dog, Leo. Now, let me be clear: we did not meet any particularly rude people there, but generally it’s not a place for small talk. Not a lot of the fake pleasantries we’re used to from the shop employees or waitstaff, which was honestly a breath of fresh air for us both. All of the extroverted friendliness seems to be concentrated into this man, whose name we did not get. He instead treated us to some excellent tidbits, including a recommendation to ask any Canadians I meet about Kiefer Sutherland’s grandfather, his intent to take his dog for a pee, and a glimpse of his highly prized Costco card.
This gentleman managed to unseat as favorite interaction an elderly Russian woman who, upon noticing us reading a flyer for a risque comedy club, leaned in conspiratorially and whispered, “I’m interested, too” with the sly smile of a mischievous rule breaker.
There are a great many small things we discovered in Reykjavik I’ve omitted here, partially because I like to keep a few things for just myself and my fellow travellers, but also because I highly recommend people do their own exploring, and find their own things to love about the places they visit. So, in lieu of any further detail and description, I will end this episodic recounting of my travels by saying Iceland is an amazing fantasy world of a place, and well worth the visit.
But please don’t stay there, because I’m thinking of retiring there someday, and I’d prefer not to see an increase in human population when I do.
-John
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