The Authenticity of Hot Pots
After dinner, we return to the House of the Spirits and I work on convincing Kristen to go to what is called a hot pot. We’ve had a bit of a chilly day in the elements, and our muscles are still sore from the lava field hike, and my understanding is that hot pots are a bit like natural hot tubs.
They are very popular in Reykjavik, as a thing that locals do. They are usually found as part of these municipal complexes that also have big geothermal swimming pools.
There is one that looks, on the map, to be a fairly short walk from our guest house. I sell Kristen on this plan by pointing out that the Haters Guide to Iceland says that most tourists miss out on this experience, which is one of the best things that Iceland has to offer.
We head bravely back out into the night, and manage to tail some youths with towels around their shoulders to the correct location.
Once inside, it does turn out to be a very authentic Icelandic experience - so authentic that none of the signs telling you what to do are in English. This leads to a bit of wandering around trying to figure things out, and encountering a lot of locals in various states of undress as we find lockers, but we manage to make it to the shower area without looking too out of place.
In Iceland, because all of the pools are heated by geothermal energy, they are so hot that most bacteria does not thrive in that environment. There is no chlorine or chemical treatment, and the water renews itself every day or few days, depending on the location.
But this means that it is customary to shower without your swimsuit on, prior to going into the pool or hot pot. The book has cautioned us that not doing so will cause huge offense.
Thus, to avoid an international incident of offense, we find ourselves in a public shower that is like the scene of every high school horror movie murder of ever. Just a bunch of shower heads along a wall, everyone showering all together, and a dispenser of blue hand soap that you are supposed to use to wash yourself.
The Icelandic locals seem quite used to this and not at all self conscious. Afterwards, we put our suits on and then have a confusion about what to do with our towels (answer, leave them in the locker room, there is nowhere to put them in the pool and hot pot area). A quick wrong turn into a utility closet - authentic lack of English signs - and we find the outdoor hot pots. It is cold outside, less than 40 degrees fahrenheit, and we first hop into the regular pool and wait for a hot pot to open up.
Within minutes, one does, and we hurry over to it and go inside. The water is so hot. A sign nearby pins it down as 40-42 Celsius 40-42 which is like 104-107 Fahrenheit. So much hotter than a regular hot tub. We have to go slowly to acclimate ourselves. We sit in it, and it’s very pleasant, but also a bit like when Bugs Bunny takes a bath in the stew pot. Other people come in while we are there, all of whom do not need time to adjust to the temperature. One of them is a kid, about twelve years old, who dunks his whole head under the water.
We only stay in the hot pot for about five minutes - not very long, but about as long as it feels like we can stand without cooking our insides. The cool weather feels great as we are getting out.
We dress in the locker room, and walk home in the chill damp still completely warm from our time in the hot pot. It was that hot, and that effective. And all of our aching muscles are cured. And we are incredibly sleepy.
Kristen is so pleased about how good it felt - especially in light of her volcano related injuries - that she even forgives me for the shower situation.
We go to bed feeling very authentic, and still completely warm.
They are very popular in Reykjavik, as a thing that locals do. They are usually found as part of these municipal complexes that also have big geothermal swimming pools.
There is one that looks, on the map, to be a fairly short walk from our guest house. I sell Kristen on this plan by pointing out that the Haters Guide to Iceland says that most tourists miss out on this experience, which is one of the best things that Iceland has to offer.
We head bravely back out into the night, and manage to tail some youths with towels around their shoulders to the correct location.
Once inside, it does turn out to be a very authentic Icelandic experience - so authentic that none of the signs telling you what to do are in English. This leads to a bit of wandering around trying to figure things out, and encountering a lot of locals in various states of undress as we find lockers, but we manage to make it to the shower area without looking too out of place.
In Iceland, because all of the pools are heated by geothermal energy, they are so hot that most bacteria does not thrive in that environment. There is no chlorine or chemical treatment, and the water renews itself every day or few days, depending on the location.
But this means that it is customary to shower without your swimsuit on, prior to going into the pool or hot pot. The book has cautioned us that not doing so will cause huge offense.
Thus, to avoid an international incident of offense, we find ourselves in a public shower that is like the scene of every high school horror movie murder of ever. Just a bunch of shower heads along a wall, everyone showering all together, and a dispenser of blue hand soap that you are supposed to use to wash yourself.
The Icelandic locals seem quite used to this and not at all self conscious. Afterwards, we put our suits on and then have a confusion about what to do with our towels (answer, leave them in the locker room, there is nowhere to put them in the pool and hot pot area). A quick wrong turn into a utility closet - authentic lack of English signs - and we find the outdoor hot pots. It is cold outside, less than 40 degrees fahrenheit, and we first hop into the regular pool and wait for a hot pot to open up.
Within minutes, one does, and we hurry over to it and go inside. The water is so hot. A sign nearby pins it down as 40-42 Celsius 40-42 which is like 104-107 Fahrenheit. So much hotter than a regular hot tub. We have to go slowly to acclimate ourselves. We sit in it, and it’s very pleasant, but also a bit like when Bugs Bunny takes a bath in the stew pot. Other people come in while we are there, all of whom do not need time to adjust to the temperature. One of them is a kid, about twelve years old, who dunks his whole head under the water.
We only stay in the hot pot for about five minutes - not very long, but about as long as it feels like we can stand without cooking our insides. The cool weather feels great as we are getting out.
We dress in the locker room, and walk home in the chill damp still completely warm from our time in the hot pot. It was that hot, and that effective. And all of our aching muscles are cured. And we are incredibly sleepy.
Kristen is so pleased about how good it felt - especially in light of her volcano related injuries - that she even forgives me for the shower situation.
We go to bed feeling very authentic, and still completely warm.