Iceland, Day 2, Thursday, August 13, 2015
Once we landed and got through silly customs, we found ourselves waiting around for our luggage. To kill time, we went in the duty-free shop and bought Icelandic water in fabulous vodka-like bottles. And I stopped at the ATM to get money. It was amusing to take out 20,000. Although it was the beginning of us realizing that everything is super-expensive in Iceland. We also found a little heart-shaped charm on the floor and amused ourselves with thinking that it represented someone’s abandoned heart. Probably Sherlock’s. So then we wrote a sad AU where Sherlock and John were both abandoned pieces of luggage.
Eventually it was time to go get the car. We were met by a man whose name was Gummi and who was singularly uninterested in the international driver’s license I’d procured. “That’s nice,” he said. “Can I see your regular license?” So I gave him my license, at which point he asked me my age, like maybe the ID was fake and he wanted to check. Or maybe he was flirting with me. Who knows? It will be a mystery forever. Gummi also gave us a series of weird instructions, like be careful of little stones, sheep, and monkey men. We saw little stones and sheep but we never saw a monkey man and frankly I was disappointed.
Gummi then asked us if we were going off-roading and I laughed and said, “Of course not,” because I am the least likely person to off-road that I know. Then L got in the car and took my GPS and immediately programmed it to include unpaved roads and we basically spent 40% of our time in Iceland on unpaved roads and I hoe Gummi isn’t too disappointed I lied to him. (Frankly, he probably thought, “Aren’t these people going anywhere? More of Icelandic roads are unpaved.”)
It was still very early in the morning and nothing was open yet so our plan was basically to drive on a bunch of Icelandic unpaved roads and enjoy the scenery. This maybe sounds objectively a little sketchy but it was actually perfect. The sun was rising-ish, and the roads were basically deserted except for sheep (Iceland is a late-rising country). Our drive wound through black landscape that was littered with abandoned shipwrecks that apparently no one could be bothered to collect so instead they stuck informative plaques by them and tourists like us go by and take pictures. You couldn’t see the ocean from the “street” we were on but when we put the windows down (sealed tight against the freezing cold and sudden squalls and RELENTLESS ICELANDIC WIN), we could hear it, and at one point we all scrambled to the top of a rise and we could see it, gray and angry, the waves crashing with enough violence that the shipwrecks made sense. Every once in a while, a particularly energetic spray of whitecap into the air reminded everyone who’s boss.
Eventually we reached a lighthouse that was positioned so far in on the spit of land that I was convinced its purpose was actually to lure in all of the area’s picturesque shipwrecks. L later told me that the lighthouses at home also used to be farther from shore but our coastline is eroding. ! Rocked my world.
Spread out around the lighthouse, stretching down to the sea, was a series of stone foundations with some old footpaths. We decided this was an abandoned fishing village, because I’d heard there was one in this area and I desperately wanted to see it.
We finished our loop and it was still too early to go to the Blue Lagoon (our first stop for the day), so we found yet another unpaved road. This one led to some hot springs. Hot springs in Iceland smell like sulfur and, in their natural state, are basically at boiling temperature. So Iceland helpfully put some fences up and basically said, “Please don’t be an idiot and get yourself killed.” It was so incredibly knock-you-down windy that I got out of the car, looked at the steam wisping up from the ground for a second, took a panorama, said, “That’s nice,” and got back in the car.
We debated whether to keep driving along the unpaved roads or to get to the Blue Lagoon right as it was opening. Because it was freezing and we wanted to warm up, we decided on the Blue Lagoon, which was good, because apparently you’re supposed to make reservations at the Blue Lagoon and we hadn’t and we only got in because we were there so early.
As I maneuvered myself off the unpaved road, I was marveling at the fact that the official Icelandic speed limit on unpaved roads is 70 km/hr. I was going, like, 15. I eventually figured out how to turn on the four-wheel drive in the car, and that made the ride less bumpy, but I still didn’t go anywhere close to 70 km/hr.
I had remembered the Blue Lagoon as being awesome, and it was. It’s just so amazing to dash through frigidly unpleasant air to sink into hot water. It was, however, just so windy. It was so windy that the RELENTLESS ICELAND WIND TM literally blew the iPad out of the attendant’s hand and into the water while she was trying to take a picture of us. We had to help her find it (the water is this milky blue color, opaque, so you can’t see the bottom) and we had to feel around with our feet for the tablet. It was so windy that my hair, which I’d just had done, was immediately destroyed. It was so windy we stayed crouched down to our necks, and near the wooden boxes where the hot water was gushing out so we could get it before it cooled off any. The weather was so unpleasant that I have to admit I’m not sure if Iceland ever gets weather I would consider bearable. There wasn’t really an appreciable difference between visiting in the winter and the summer, honestly. It was green instead of white, I suppose. Theoretically there was supposed to be a lot of daylight hours but it rained almost the whole time we were there so it’s not like we saw the sun a whole lot.
We did the skin treatment with the Blue Lagoon sand, administered by a woman whose entire job was apparently to stand in hot water all day putting mud on people’s faces. Our entrance came with a free drink and L got prosecco but I was too jetlagged to trust myself to drive after a glass of prosecco so I just got water.
Eventually we got out of the Blue Lagoon because we were starving. I was so hungry I could have eaten anything. I ended up with ham and cheese on a croissant.
After eating, we decided to go into Reykjavik. It was pretty clear we needed heavier clothing than we had brought, and we also wanted to go to the Penis Museum. We left the warm confines of the Blue Lagoon and were immediately beset by the RELENTLESS ICELANDIC WIND TM. I was in a foul mood anyway because some tall person had made some comment about my height in the bathroom. As we struggled against the RELENTLESS ICELANDIC WIND TM back to the car, I dramatically announced that this was basically the equivalent of my Fury Road.
Once we got to Reykjavik and figured out where to park the car, we walked down to the shops. We started by all of us making the all-important purchase of gloves. Then we commenced to walk basically the entire length of the city of Reykjavik. Reykjavik is not a big city, but that walk is pretty lengthy when you are doing it in driving rain and RELENTLESS ICELANDIC WIND TM. Honestly, you reach a point where you’re so cold and miserable you barely notice how cold and miserable you are. But as we kept trudging forward, I just kept asking, “We’re not there yet?” because honestly, we had walked to basically the end of the city. Highlights from the walk were a wine and tea shop, which I am the demographic for, clearly, and a Dunkin’ Donuts!
Eventually, we reached the Penis Museum. Yes, you read that correctly: Iceland has a penis museum. It’s basically a split between a bunch of preserved animal penes (including human) and a bunch of things that Gareth on the UK Office would have on his desk. My two main observations are: (1) Men will look for any excuse to show off their own penis. And (2) Everything looks like a penis once you’ve been to the Penis Museum.
We perused a bunch of postcards that we’re pretty sure could only be sent to countries less Puritanical than the U.S. and then we took a deep breath and plunged back out into the storm.
It was still raining, and we decided not to go on the multi-hour pony ride we’d had booked that afternoon, because there’s wet and cold and then there’s hypothermic because you’re not dressed for the weather.
Our decision not to go horseback riding left us with a free afternoon. We spent it wandering into shops. I wanted Dunkin’ Donuts but there was literally a line out the door. We killed some time by ducking into a Christmas shop, where I bought a “surprise.” When I opened it, it was a lavender sachet and the label read “Providence, RI.” Illuminati, you guys. Illuminati.
When we got out of the Christmas shop, there was still a line at the Dunkin’ Donuts, but at least it wasn’t out the door. Although it was busy enough that there was a guy directing traffic. “Why is it so busy here?” asked S. “Bostonians,” I replied.
Here are the things that happened at the Dunkin’ Donuts:
#1 - They tried to give me two donuts when I’d ordered three.
#2 - I asked for tea with milk; they gave me black tea.
#3 - They rejected my credit card, which I’d been using without issue.
So basically it was a quintessential Dunkin’ Donuts experience, only in Iceland.
It was actually really hard getting donuts in Iceland because most of the types were filled, which I don’t like. I ended up with a lemon meringue donut, which proved to be delicious when I had it for breakfast the next morning. I also had to have a hot tea because it was just too cold for iced tea.
We decided to head to the house early because we were tired and we’d seen basically all of Reykjavik. I had to stop to get gas first, which proved confusing and at one point I ended up driving on the sidewalk. But why wouldn’t the sidewalk have a curb so you’d know your car wasn’t supposed to be there??
After the gas, I embarked on my first Long Icelandic Drive. Things I learned on Long Icelandic Drives: (1) Bad drivers are everywhere. They are a worldwide epidemic. (2) Everything you need to know about driving in Iceland you can learn from playing MarioKart. (3) Lots of cars in Iceland have broken tail lights and that is not at all alarming at night on their super-dark roads.
And now I bring you the first edition of a recurring feature:
Conversations in Iceland
Me: Does the house have a microwave?
L: I don’t know.
Me: My kitchen doesn’t have a microwave.
L: Then why do you care if this house has one?
N: Does it have a dryer for us to dry our bathing suits?
Me: Can we dry our bathing suits in the microwave?
***
S: Ginger soothes my stomach.
Me: Benedict Cumberbatch is a ginger.
S: He would also soothe my stomach.
***
Me: Wet garbage disgusts me.
***
S: The title of my memoir is “Not Riding Ponies in the Rain.”
***
Me: This car is humid because of lies.
***
Me: I never thought about it before but I guess I am kind of high-maintenance, huh?
***
Me: Can you die of carbon monoxide from your own breathing?
Eventually we reached the area of the house, so we stopped at a grocery store to buy a ton of food we would never have time to eat. When I was checking out, she asked if I wanted a bag, and I said yes without thinking, and then realized later that I’d been charged for it. Oops.
Freshly equipped with groceries, we went to the house. Only the house didn’t have an address, so we pulled into the wrong driveway first before literally piecing together where we needed to go using a series of Google Earth satellite images.
The house was down a long road that ended in a golf course on the left and our driveway on the right that I missed every single time I drove us home. The house itself was beautiful, with a modern open living area and a wall of windows looking out over some water and basically nothing else because we were in the middle of nowhere. It also had a hot tub out on the wraparound porch, which was fantastic. The first night L and I sat in it for an hour. I would say we were looking at stars but it was simultaneously too light out and too cloudy.
Anyway, we were early to the house, so we had to sit in the driveway while they cleaned it, which was a little awkward, but at least we knew we were at the right house. They let us in but said they had to get toilet paper. I thought they said this would them 15 minutes but instead they said it would take them 50, so we took 20-minute power naps. Then we made ourselves a dinner of cheese and meat and crackers. Then I realized that Bank of America had been calling me about suspicious activity on my card. I was annoyed because I had alerted them of my travel plans. When I went online to fix it, I realized that it had indeed been the Dunkin’ Donuts charge that had raised the flag. “Do they not know you at all?” marveled S. And then L and I went in the hot tub and then we all called it a night.
Eventually it was time to go get the car. We were met by a man whose name was Gummi and who was singularly uninterested in the international driver’s license I’d procured. “That’s nice,” he said. “Can I see your regular license?” So I gave him my license, at which point he asked me my age, like maybe the ID was fake and he wanted to check. Or maybe he was flirting with me. Who knows? It will be a mystery forever. Gummi also gave us a series of weird instructions, like be careful of little stones, sheep, and monkey men. We saw little stones and sheep but we never saw a monkey man and frankly I was disappointed.
Gummi then asked us if we were going off-roading and I laughed and said, “Of course not,” because I am the least likely person to off-road that I know. Then L got in the car and took my GPS and immediately programmed it to include unpaved roads and we basically spent 40% of our time in Iceland on unpaved roads and I hoe Gummi isn’t too disappointed I lied to him. (Frankly, he probably thought, “Aren’t these people going anywhere? More of Icelandic roads are unpaved.”)
It was still very early in the morning and nothing was open yet so our plan was basically to drive on a bunch of Icelandic unpaved roads and enjoy the scenery. This maybe sounds objectively a little sketchy but it was actually perfect. The sun was rising-ish, and the roads were basically deserted except for sheep (Iceland is a late-rising country). Our drive wound through black landscape that was littered with abandoned shipwrecks that apparently no one could be bothered to collect so instead they stuck informative plaques by them and tourists like us go by and take pictures. You couldn’t see the ocean from the “street” we were on but when we put the windows down (sealed tight against the freezing cold and sudden squalls and RELENTLESS ICELANDIC WIN), we could hear it, and at one point we all scrambled to the top of a rise and we could see it, gray and angry, the waves crashing with enough violence that the shipwrecks made sense. Every once in a while, a particularly energetic spray of whitecap into the air reminded everyone who’s boss.
Eventually we reached a lighthouse that was positioned so far in on the spit of land that I was convinced its purpose was actually to lure in all of the area’s picturesque shipwrecks. L later told me that the lighthouses at home also used to be farther from shore but our coastline is eroding. ! Rocked my world.
Spread out around the lighthouse, stretching down to the sea, was a series of stone foundations with some old footpaths. We decided this was an abandoned fishing village, because I’d heard there was one in this area and I desperately wanted to see it.
We finished our loop and it was still too early to go to the Blue Lagoon (our first stop for the day), so we found yet another unpaved road. This one led to some hot springs. Hot springs in Iceland smell like sulfur and, in their natural state, are basically at boiling temperature. So Iceland helpfully put some fences up and basically said, “Please don’t be an idiot and get yourself killed.” It was so incredibly knock-you-down windy that I got out of the car, looked at the steam wisping up from the ground for a second, took a panorama, said, “That’s nice,” and got back in the car.
We debated whether to keep driving along the unpaved roads or to get to the Blue Lagoon right as it was opening. Because it was freezing and we wanted to warm up, we decided on the Blue Lagoon, which was good, because apparently you’re supposed to make reservations at the Blue Lagoon and we hadn’t and we only got in because we were there so early.
As I maneuvered myself off the unpaved road, I was marveling at the fact that the official Icelandic speed limit on unpaved roads is 70 km/hr. I was going, like, 15. I eventually figured out how to turn on the four-wheel drive in the car, and that made the ride less bumpy, but I still didn’t go anywhere close to 70 km/hr.
I had remembered the Blue Lagoon as being awesome, and it was. It’s just so amazing to dash through frigidly unpleasant air to sink into hot water. It was, however, just so windy. It was so windy that the RELENTLESS ICELAND WIND TM literally blew the iPad out of the attendant’s hand and into the water while she was trying to take a picture of us. We had to help her find it (the water is this milky blue color, opaque, so you can’t see the bottom) and we had to feel around with our feet for the tablet. It was so windy that my hair, which I’d just had done, was immediately destroyed. It was so windy we stayed crouched down to our necks, and near the wooden boxes where the hot water was gushing out so we could get it before it cooled off any. The weather was so unpleasant that I have to admit I’m not sure if Iceland ever gets weather I would consider bearable. There wasn’t really an appreciable difference between visiting in the winter and the summer, honestly. It was green instead of white, I suppose. Theoretically there was supposed to be a lot of daylight hours but it rained almost the whole time we were there so it’s not like we saw the sun a whole lot.
We did the skin treatment with the Blue Lagoon sand, administered by a woman whose entire job was apparently to stand in hot water all day putting mud on people’s faces. Our entrance came with a free drink and L got prosecco but I was too jetlagged to trust myself to drive after a glass of prosecco so I just got water.
Eventually we got out of the Blue Lagoon because we were starving. I was so hungry I could have eaten anything. I ended up with ham and cheese on a croissant.
After eating, we decided to go into Reykjavik. It was pretty clear we needed heavier clothing than we had brought, and we also wanted to go to the Penis Museum. We left the warm confines of the Blue Lagoon and were immediately beset by the RELENTLESS ICELANDIC WIND TM. I was in a foul mood anyway because some tall person had made some comment about my height in the bathroom. As we struggled against the RELENTLESS ICELANDIC WIND TM back to the car, I dramatically announced that this was basically the equivalent of my Fury Road.
Once we got to Reykjavik and figured out where to park the car, we walked down to the shops. We started by all of us making the all-important purchase of gloves. Then we commenced to walk basically the entire length of the city of Reykjavik. Reykjavik is not a big city, but that walk is pretty lengthy when you are doing it in driving rain and RELENTLESS ICELANDIC WIND TM. Honestly, you reach a point where you’re so cold and miserable you barely notice how cold and miserable you are. But as we kept trudging forward, I just kept asking, “We’re not there yet?” because honestly, we had walked to basically the end of the city. Highlights from the walk were a wine and tea shop, which I am the demographic for, clearly, and a Dunkin’ Donuts!
Eventually, we reached the Penis Museum. Yes, you read that correctly: Iceland has a penis museum. It’s basically a split between a bunch of preserved animal penes (including human) and a bunch of things that Gareth on the UK Office would have on his desk. My two main observations are: (1) Men will look for any excuse to show off their own penis. And (2) Everything looks like a penis once you’ve been to the Penis Museum.
We perused a bunch of postcards that we’re pretty sure could only be sent to countries less Puritanical than the U.S. and then we took a deep breath and plunged back out into the storm.
It was still raining, and we decided not to go on the multi-hour pony ride we’d had booked that afternoon, because there’s wet and cold and then there’s hypothermic because you’re not dressed for the weather.
Our decision not to go horseback riding left us with a free afternoon. We spent it wandering into shops. I wanted Dunkin’ Donuts but there was literally a line out the door. We killed some time by ducking into a Christmas shop, where I bought a “surprise.” When I opened it, it was a lavender sachet and the label read “Providence, RI.” Illuminati, you guys. Illuminati.
When we got out of the Christmas shop, there was still a line at the Dunkin’ Donuts, but at least it wasn’t out the door. Although it was busy enough that there was a guy directing traffic. “Why is it so busy here?” asked S. “Bostonians,” I replied.
Here are the things that happened at the Dunkin’ Donuts:
#1 - They tried to give me two donuts when I’d ordered three.
#2 - I asked for tea with milk; they gave me black tea.
#3 - They rejected my credit card, which I’d been using without issue.
So basically it was a quintessential Dunkin’ Donuts experience, only in Iceland.
It was actually really hard getting donuts in Iceland because most of the types were filled, which I don’t like. I ended up with a lemon meringue donut, which proved to be delicious when I had it for breakfast the next morning. I also had to have a hot tea because it was just too cold for iced tea.
We decided to head to the house early because we were tired and we’d seen basically all of Reykjavik. I had to stop to get gas first, which proved confusing and at one point I ended up driving on the sidewalk. But why wouldn’t the sidewalk have a curb so you’d know your car wasn’t supposed to be there??
After the gas, I embarked on my first Long Icelandic Drive. Things I learned on Long Icelandic Drives: (1) Bad drivers are everywhere. They are a worldwide epidemic. (2) Everything you need to know about driving in Iceland you can learn from playing MarioKart. (3) Lots of cars in Iceland have broken tail lights and that is not at all alarming at night on their super-dark roads.
And now I bring you the first edition of a recurring feature:
Conversations in Iceland
Me: Does the house have a microwave?
L: I don’t know.
Me: My kitchen doesn’t have a microwave.
L: Then why do you care if this house has one?
N: Does it have a dryer for us to dry our bathing suits?
Me: Can we dry our bathing suits in the microwave?
***
S: Ginger soothes my stomach.
Me: Benedict Cumberbatch is a ginger.
S: He would also soothe my stomach.
***
Me: Wet garbage disgusts me.
***
S: The title of my memoir is “Not Riding Ponies in the Rain.”
***
Me: This car is humid because of lies.
***
Me: I never thought about it before but I guess I am kind of high-maintenance, huh?
***
Me: Can you die of carbon monoxide from your own breathing?
Eventually we reached the area of the house, so we stopped at a grocery store to buy a ton of food we would never have time to eat. When I was checking out, she asked if I wanted a bag, and I said yes without thinking, and then realized later that I’d been charged for it. Oops.
Freshly equipped with groceries, we went to the house. Only the house didn’t have an address, so we pulled into the wrong driveway first before literally piecing together where we needed to go using a series of Google Earth satellite images.
The house was down a long road that ended in a golf course on the left and our driveway on the right that I missed every single time I drove us home. The house itself was beautiful, with a modern open living area and a wall of windows looking out over some water and basically nothing else because we were in the middle of nowhere. It also had a hot tub out on the wraparound porch, which was fantastic. The first night L and I sat in it for an hour. I would say we were looking at stars but it was simultaneously too light out and too cloudy.
Anyway, we were early to the house, so we had to sit in the driveway while they cleaned it, which was a little awkward, but at least we knew we were at the right house. They let us in but said they had to get toilet paper. I thought they said this would them 15 minutes but instead they said it would take them 50, so we took 20-minute power naps. Then we made ourselves a dinner of cheese and meat and crackers. Then I realized that Bank of America had been calling me about suspicious activity on my card. I was annoyed because I had alerted them of my travel plans. When I went online to fix it, I realized that it had indeed been the Dunkin’ Donuts charge that had raised the flag. “Do they not know you at all?” marveled S. And then L and I went in the hot tub and then we all called it a night.