Iceland trip, 25 March 2016

I made friends with a neighborhood cat and I'm sad to say goodbye to her this morning. Her collar has rhinestones on it and a little bell. I lure her inside again for photos and she's not very happy about it. But she pouts when I put her back outside. Cats are the same no matter where you go, I think. 

Displeased.

Still displeased. 

We fly out this evening, so there's time in the morning and early afternoon for a few more stops in Reykjavik. This is weird to me- I usually start trips early in the morning so there's never time for more stuff on my last day anywhere. We go to Laugardalslaug, the largest public pool in Reykjavik. The pool and hot tubs are geothermic water, of course, and I'm excited to try them out. Before you enter, everyone must take a fully nude shower in the open locker room. I don't mind the group nudity, but I think about how you'd never see this in America. I wish our culture were less Puritanical, less squeamish of the human body and vulnerability. Is that it? Is that why? Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe America just doesn't like showers where you have separate knobs for hot water and cold water.

Walking outside in my bikini is a shock. The air is so cold! I get into a pool as quickly as possible. It's an in-ground bowl, basically. Shallow at the edges and maybe 24 inches deep in the middle. People lay like wagon wheel spokes. We bob in and out of the water, too hot and then too cold.

After the pool, we try to get lobster from a food truck, but a lot of smaller things are closed early for the Easter weekend, food trucks included. We go back to the bakery from the day before. Kate gets me a sourdough roll, which is delicious, and I try some of Renee's cinnamon roll and it's divine. I stay in the car while they visit the Perlan. We drive to the Thufa, and earthwork near the Harpa. It's a perfectly rounded mound, a slow spiral of flagstones marking a narrow path up and around to the top. The view is fantastic, but it's so windy and cold that I stay at the top for about 5 seconds before returning to our car. 

The Thufa.

View of the bay from the Thufa.

Building artwork downtown.

It's time to drive back to Keflavik Airport. I don't like flying, but I love the thought of being home. Check-in and security is so easy, nothing like America. The Icelandic version of TSA are happy and friendly. For Easter, the airport has hidden 100 foil-wrapped chocolate eggs around the concourse. Joe finds one and I find two. They have fortunes inside of them, but I can't read mine because I don't speak Icelandic.  

Chocolate egg at the Keflavik Airport. 

Renee and I somehow end up on a different flight than the others. We all wonder how it's possible that there are two flights headed to Seattle from Iceland a mere 20 minutes apart, but both seem full so it was clearly necessary. I sit in an exit row so I can't have my bag with me. I stuff my pockets full with charger, headphones, snacks, and wallet, and fret about my bags not being with me. When we land, I'm the second person off the plane and walk as fast as I can to customs. The agent at the front of the line barks at me "What kind of passport do you have?" When I tell him it's just a passport, he gets more aggressive, asking "Is it a visa? A green card? Certificate? Permit? What do you have!" I'm tired and confused and have no idea how to answer his question. "It's just an American passport, I'm an American citizen," I stammer at him and show him. He waves me away with a gruff "Oh, okay." I think about what a terrible first impression that makes, how I feel embarrassed foreign visitors are greeted like that. 

I get outside as quickly as I can and look for Jason. My trip was great. But the welcome home hug I get from him is even better. 

Mount Rainier above the clouds, from the plane. 

Iceland trip, 24 March 2016

It's our last full day in Iceland, and we're going to pair up and come back together in different groups throughout the day. Kate, Becca, Joe and I go to a place that's been on my list from the early planning stages, thanks to Maggie's map. It's the Hólavallagarður Cemetery, which means "garden on a hill." It's also called the oldest and largest museum in Reykjavik. It's heavily wooded, a rarity in Iceland, and has species of moss found nowhere else on the island. I take too many photos of graves, and a short walk later I take too many photos of ducks.

Gazebo in Hólavallagarður.

Swans and ducks on Tjörnin pond.

Kate and I walk downtown and I vent about nothing and everything. This vacation has been really good, but also trying and frustrating by turns. It hasn't been restful. But it has been beautiful. And thoughtful. And good challenging. Kate and I are going to meet Magnus of Elfschool so Kate can advise him on design for the elf museum he wants to build. But first we stop at Lemon and get the most delicious smoothies made from Skyr yogurt. It's cold out, threatening to snow, and my smoothie tastes like pineapple. My next trip should be somewhere tropical, I think.

Magnus has cut his hair, but is as larger-than-life as I remember. He greets several people in the cafe, and I can't tell if he knows them or just says hello to most people. He snaps his fingers to get the attention of a waiter, and it makes me uncomfortable. He asks us how we are, and when we ask him how he is he laughs and says "Horny!" It's one of the few sexual remarks he makes, so I count the meeting as a win. He asks a lot of questions about what we expect in a museum, what we prefer to see, our thoughts on wax figures and recorded stories. We have to leave after 30 minutes, but he could have talked for hours. When we leave, Kate tells me she thinks I should also put on my resume that I helped consult on the museum, too.

Murals in downtown Reykjavik.

More ghost sculptures. 

Mural by one of Kate's favorite Reykjavik artists, Sara Riel.

Spot the painted mouse.

 We're meeting the group at a vegetarian restaurant for lunch. Nothing on the menu looks good to me. When Renee and Molly arrive, they say they've already eaten, and I find I'm irrationally frustrated that we met here if half of the group wasn't going to eat here. I'm cranky and ready to be home, so I keep my mouth shut because I recognize how out of proportion my feelings are. Renee, Molly, Kate and I walk around while Joe and Becca break off to do their own thing. I want a pretzel from a specific bakery, but when we get inside they're all out and I'm more frustrated. We get a table, and I end up happily eating a delicious sandwich instead. I want dessert, and have the waitress walk over to the bakery case with me so I can point at the thing I want. It's the one in the back there, like a dense chocolate cake with frosting. She looks at it and then says "You mean a brownie?" I feel silly- I didn't realize that word translated.

It starts to snow- fat, wet flakes. The wind blows it sideways into us as we walk toward the Harpa. I'm glad this weather waited until we're almost done with our vacation because it would have been a really sad start to the trip. We go to meet Joe and Becca at a bakery for bread and cheese but they're sold out when we get there.

Back at the apartment, we make our own dinners. I bought a small serving of the infamous hákarl, a particularly disgusting fermented shark meat. I told everyone back home that I'd try it while I was in Iceland and I don't want to wimp out. We have dried cod to try first. I didn't think it was bad when I had it at the flea market, but Becca spits it out. The hákarl is so pungent it comes in a sealed container inside a sealed bag. It smells fishy but worse. We each take a small piece and try it as a group. The taste and texture don't belong together; it's like a soft gummy bear made out of rotted tuna jello. It's not good, but it's not the worst thing ever, which makes me think I just didn't take a big enough piece to get the full effect. I want to go home to Jason. And also hamburgers.

Dried cod with hákarl under the cup.