First Morning in Reykjavik
Sunday morning we are up bright and early, our heroic efforts to stay awake all through our long day of travel having resulted in a successful Icelandic time reset.
We head out to get breakfast and explore the city. We are bound for a cafe called “The Grái Kötturinn” which means “The Gray Cat.” Although it is sort of unfashionable to be into cats in the US (cf: crazy cat ladies, etc), here in Reykjavik they kind of seem to run the town. There are various cafes and boutiques that use the word in their names, stray cats wander the streets with impunity, and lots of stores sell super cute cat (excuse me, Kötturinn) themed items.
Our route to breakfast is our first effort at navigation through the city. I have a small map, and a complete inability to pronounce most of the street names. I lead us along confidently, saying things like, “We will turn right onto a street with a long name that begins with V, cross a street with a long name that begins with L, and then look for the street with the long name that begins with H!”
Kristen: Maybe you should try pronouncing the names.
Joanna: (Studies map) Vesturg(mumble mumble) Hvarsi(mumble mumble)fjord fjord.
Kristen: Someone is not trying very hard.
Above: Wandering the streets, American chain restaurant and landmark church both visible.
Along the way, we see a place that bills itself as a Fish Takeaway, and it’s window proclaims that they sell Fish, Fish Soup, Fish Stew, and Muffins.
We also see a lot of signs that are a blue circle shape, with a red circle and slash over them. We dub these signs “No Blueing!”
We find the Grai Kotturrinn, thanks to my excellent alphabetical navigational skills, and it is a place of delicious food and charming décor. There is a poster on the wall of an angry looking hairless cat, with another mysterious unpronounceable word beneath it. There is also a sculpted relief of a woman with the words “I like your hairstyle and your trousers and your manners” underneath.
As I pull out the guidebook to determine the best way to get to City Hall to see the giant topographical map of Iceland, Kristen notices that-of the three guidebooks we purchased--I have brought the Lonely Planet one. I did this because it had the most thorough information, and the best maps. But it was also written by a guy who did not seem to like Iceland all that much. Back home, we had taken to calling it “The Hater’s Guide to Iceland.” Kristen thinks bringing the book might not have been the best idea, but I think you can totally trust a hater. If they like something, then you know that it must be really good.
We find the topographical map, and our walk to the City Hall takes us past some lovely municipal ducks and swans.
Above: Giant topographical map of Iceland.
We wander the streets and find a large bookstore, where I really want to buy Icelandic Monopoly, a children’s puzzle of the Icelandic alphabet, and a book with a title full of crazy long Icelandic words with a cover that features a fence with mittens waving from all of the posts.
They also sell souvenir t-shirts, with sayings on them like, “Don’t fuck with Iceland. We may not have cash, but we’ve got ash.” One is a white shirt with a facebook status update design that says “I had sex with an elf in Iceland - 59 likes.”
We head over to Hallgrimskirkja, a giant church on a hill that is the tallest building in Reykjavik. It is also, we learn, not named after a saint, but after Iceland’s most famous devotional poet, Hallgrímur Pétursson. Outside is a statue of an even more famous Icelander, Leifur Eiriksson.
The interior of the church is soaring and full of light - not at all as grim or imposing as a lot of churches in Europe. And there is an observation level at the top. We go up and view the city from its highest point. Reykjavik doesn’t really have any skyscraper buildings, so you can really see the whole city spread out before you.
Above: Giant pipe organ inside the church.
We take pictures from behind the colored clock faces, and then from the top of the observation deck itself. I watch a guy far below us and a few streets over practicing soccer. The wind is so strong that it stings your eyes. The clocks on this church almost never display the correct time because the wind is always blowing them off track.
We take in a nearby gothic sculpture garden, grab some lunch, and wander the main shopping street of the town until it is time for our afternoon tour of the Harpa.
We head out to get breakfast and explore the city. We are bound for a cafe called “The Grái Kötturinn” which means “The Gray Cat.” Although it is sort of unfashionable to be into cats in the US (cf: crazy cat ladies, etc), here in Reykjavik they kind of seem to run the town. There are various cafes and boutiques that use the word in their names, stray cats wander the streets with impunity, and lots of stores sell super cute cat (excuse me, Kötturinn) themed items.
Our route to breakfast is our first effort at navigation through the city. I have a small map, and a complete inability to pronounce most of the street names. I lead us along confidently, saying things like, “We will turn right onto a street with a long name that begins with V, cross a street with a long name that begins with L, and then look for the street with the long name that begins with H!”
Kristen: Maybe you should try pronouncing the names.
Joanna: (Studies map) Vesturg(mumble mumble) Hvarsi(mumble mumble)fjord fjord.
Kristen: Someone is not trying very hard.
Above: Wandering the streets, American chain restaurant and landmark church both visible.
Along the way, we see a place that bills itself as a Fish Takeaway, and it’s window proclaims that they sell Fish, Fish Soup, Fish Stew, and Muffins.
We also see a lot of signs that are a blue circle shape, with a red circle and slash over them. We dub these signs “No Blueing!”
We find the Grai Kotturrinn, thanks to my excellent alphabetical navigational skills, and it is a place of delicious food and charming décor. There is a poster on the wall of an angry looking hairless cat, with another mysterious unpronounceable word beneath it. There is also a sculpted relief of a woman with the words “I like your hairstyle and your trousers and your manners” underneath.
As I pull out the guidebook to determine the best way to get to City Hall to see the giant topographical map of Iceland, Kristen notices that-of the three guidebooks we purchased--I have brought the Lonely Planet one. I did this because it had the most thorough information, and the best maps. But it was also written by a guy who did not seem to like Iceland all that much. Back home, we had taken to calling it “The Hater’s Guide to Iceland.” Kristen thinks bringing the book might not have been the best idea, but I think you can totally trust a hater. If they like something, then you know that it must be really good.
We find the topographical map, and our walk to the City Hall takes us past some lovely municipal ducks and swans.
Above: Giant topographical map of Iceland.
We wander the streets and find a large bookstore, where I really want to buy Icelandic Monopoly, a children’s puzzle of the Icelandic alphabet, and a book with a title full of crazy long Icelandic words with a cover that features a fence with mittens waving from all of the posts.
They also sell souvenir t-shirts, with sayings on them like, “Don’t fuck with Iceland. We may not have cash, but we’ve got ash.” One is a white shirt with a facebook status update design that says “I had sex with an elf in Iceland - 59 likes.”
We head over to Hallgrimskirkja, a giant church on a hill that is the tallest building in Reykjavik. It is also, we learn, not named after a saint, but after Iceland’s most famous devotional poet, Hallgrímur Pétursson. Outside is a statue of an even more famous Icelander, Leifur Eiriksson.
The interior of the church is soaring and full of light - not at all as grim or imposing as a lot of churches in Europe. And there is an observation level at the top. We go up and view the city from its highest point. Reykjavik doesn’t really have any skyscraper buildings, so you can really see the whole city spread out before you.
Above: Giant pipe organ inside the church.
We take pictures from behind the colored clock faces, and then from the top of the observation deck itself. I watch a guy far below us and a few streets over practicing soccer. The wind is so strong that it stings your eyes. The clocks on this church almost never display the correct time because the wind is always blowing them off track.
We take in a nearby gothic sculpture garden, grab some lunch, and wander the main shopping street of the town until it is time for our afternoon tour of the Harpa.