Iceland, 25 September 2022

I started this blog in March 2016 to help me remember my first international trip: a visit to Iceland with some friends from grad school. Six years later and I'm back in Reykjavik with my husband, Jason, on his first international trip. I've wanted to share this place with him ever since I arrived the first time, and I'm so excited I finally get to.

The flight is delayed by an hour, but uneventful. We leave Seattle at about 4:50pm on a Saturday, and because of the time difference and 7 hour flight, we get into Keflavik Airport at about 7:00am on a Sunday. I hate flying so much: I get congested, and wickedly nauseated, and as a fat person it's hard to fit comfortably in a seat (okay, it's pretty impossible to be in coach no matter your size). The airport is pretty small, and I'm surprised by how much I remember (we turn left here and there will be a bathroom on the right, customs is up the stairs, there's a bus terminal right by the exit). Last time I was here was Easter Sunday in 2016, and I was flying back to Seattle. The airport had hidden golden eggs throughout the terminals for kids me to find, and I found two or three before I decided to leave some for others because I'm so very selfless.

It's the law that if you travel by plan you have to take this photo

We board a bus that will take us from the airport to Reykjavík while the wind tries to smother a fellow passenger with his own scarf. Reykjavík, Iceland's capital, is also the world’s most northern capital city. I don't really know where I'm going, but I know I booked in downtown, which is small enough I figure we can find our hotel no matter where the bus drops us. We get off at Stop 14 by the Harpa, and walk with another traveler up, up, up the hill several blocks to our respective hotels. He breaks the ice by saying "Nice sweater" to Jason, who is wearing the same sweater the Dude wears in The Big Lebowski. When we packed that morning, Jason had told me "I didn't have anything else in my backpack, so I packed my Big Lebowski sweater so I can wear it at the Big Lebowski bar!" and like the Grinch, my heart grew three sizes.

Hopefully our new friend Trevor (from Victoria—Canada, not Washington) got his hotel room okay, because we do not. We find the building just fine, but the attendant on duty makes a yikes face, and tells us there's a been a booking issue. Apparently they double-booked, so instead they put us in a room at their sister hotel. She confides in us that this is actually fortunate for us, because the current hotel is kinda crappy ("Very old, not very nice," she says) but this other hotel is much newer and nicer. We walk back down the hill to our new hotel, just steps from the bus stop and. They're very kind here, and let us check in early and give us free drinks for later in their bar for the inconvenience.

Heart-shaped hot cocoa (they spell it "coco") on our first morning

We drop our bags and head out to find breakfast on Laugavegur, Reyjkavik's main street. The name means "water road" or "wash road," because back when the road was being built (1880s), women would come down to that street to wash their clothes in geothermal pools. Today, Laugavegur is where the boutiques, tacky tourist shops, tattoo parlors, and restaurants are, so it's a good place to start. We find a tiny cafe in a building that looks like a house. The six tables are full, and the lone teenager behind the counter informs us "It's just me. You can wait, but it's going to take me awhile to get to you." There's an indoor swing chair that's available, so I'm happy to wait. My hot chocolate comes in a heart-shaped mug.

 

Hallgrímskirkja, the tallest church in Iceland. You can go to the top for a bird's eye view of the city, but our schedule won't work out the entire time we're in Iceland to visit.

Reykjavik has wonderful street art. Buildings and businesses have murals painted on the side, and I search for my old favorite (a woman transforming into a wolf) but it is covered by construction. Iceland is a good place to be an artist. In fact, 25% of Icelanders work in a creative job (and 1 in 10 have published a book, too, by the way). There's a host of reasons why, as this thesis lays out, but it comes down to major factors including an egalitarian society, a de-emphasis on test scores in school, an emphasis on free-play in kids (and adults, as the giant hopscotch on Laugavegur attests), and a national pride in making things by hand.

 

Day valkyrie, night valkyrie

Einstein and Tupac sharing a beer

We walk up and down the blocks, window shopping and people-watching. Shopkeepers are very unlike American cashiers, who often say hello the moment you walk in, welcome you, ask you how you are. They're polite, sure, but not fawning. I say "Hej hej" when I enter (an informal Nordic greeting) and "Takk" when I leave (Icelandic for "thanks"), and hope I'm not basically someone's dad mispronouncing "Gracias" at a Mexican restaurant.

Not sure what they're selling; no plans to find out

We go to the big flea market, but it's not nearly as good as I remember so we leave after looking at just a couple stalls. Jason's tired, so we go back to the hotel so he can take a nap. I prefer to power through jet lag, so I go back out and wander some more. I find a convenience store to get power converters for our cell phone chargers. I get another hot chocolate, this time from a bookstore cafe that apparently has a seagull problem. I drink it outside and people watch, while two musicians (a dad and son, I think) play a mix of classic American music and Icelandic songs. I hear "Ring of Fire," something in Icelandic, and a few more before I get too cold and wander back to the hotel. I've put in 15,000 steps and haven't slept in over 24 hours.

Beware of Steve

When I take this photo, four tourists on electric scooters almost crash trying to see what I’m looking at. From my perspective it looks like the stairs go nowhere, but from their perspective it looks like a weird tourist is taking a photo of nothing special.

Cats are kept as pets throughout Iceland, but they’re especially known for roaming downtown Reykjavík. They came over with the island’s first inhabitants in the ninth century, prized for both their mouse-catching abilities and their fur. Now, there are an estimated 20,000 cats in Iceland (which has a population of only about 376,000 people), and one source puts 12,000 of them in Reykjavík alone. Because geothermal heat is cheap, homes and apartments are easy to keep warm, and folks will leave a window cracked even in winter for a fresh breeze. Which means cats come and go as they please, wandering the town, catching mice and rats, and delighting tourists. With no coyotes, raccoons, or urban foxes, and low speed limits in the city, the cats don’t have much to worry about in terms of predators. Another bonus for the cats of Reykjavík: there aren’t many dogs. Of course, there are working dogs in the country, but dogs were banned in Reykjavík from 1924 all the way through 1984 in order to combat a fatal tapeworm that spread throughout the country.

The friendliest cat I met

 
For dinner, we go to Lebowski Bar, which has a funky thematic mixture of 40s pin-up, bowling, and 80s/90s American movies. Of course, the main focus is the movie The Big Lebowski, with a Big Lebowski-themed menu (the Donny is a cheeseburger, and the Walter is a bacon cheeseburger) and an extensive White Russian Menu. I specifically wanted to come to the Lebowski Bar because Jason is such a fan of the movie, but my secondary motivation is their milkshakes, which are the best I’ve ever had.

Abiding his time

After dinner, we walk over to Skólavörðustígur Street in the dark to check out the famous Rainbow Street. Originally painted for a Pride celebration, the rainbow section of Skólavörðustígur became permanent in 2019, with citizens—including Reykjavík’s mayor—helping to paint the colorful stripes. During our days in the city, we’ll see dozens of tourists lined up to take photos on the street. Walking back to our hotel for the night, we pass a group of teenagers arguing about which Mario Kart’s “Rainbow Road” level is hardest.

 
Rainbow Street at night

Extra spicy cat who tolerated Jason but did not like me

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.