4/19/06 Iceblog final entry

The Pylsur stand

Well, I decided yesterday to take one last plunge at the public pool, the same one from last week. This time I got the procedure right; had the correct change for the bus; and protected myself from the sight of hairy anal canyons by looking at the floor and not wearing my glasses in the shower, so that everything became a merciful blur. It was one of those rare times that I was grateful for my nearsightedness.
I also discovered a new hot pot. This one was shallow and bowl shaped, so that you could lie horizontally with your head above water, and the rest of your body submerged, both on your back or chest. I conservatively estimate I was in there for about three hours.
You know, I think I´m starting to get the hang of this place. Just in time to leave.
* * *
Iceland is definitely an interesting country, and I recommend everyone try and make a trip here if they can. It really isn´t as expensive for visitors as they say; it just depends on what time of year you go, and how you spend your money. Overall I´m satisfied with the trip. I accomplished what I set out to do. Though the hotel was lacking in amenities (and quiet), the staff was very nice, and I made some new friends in two hotel attendants:
Kristina, and Emil, the latter having actually grown up in the U.S. I had some near misses that were a little frustrating---the Northern Lights, the German electronic band---but the Blue Lagoon and the Golden Circle tour by themselves were worth the price of admission.
As far as the Icelanders themselves go, they are definitely unique. Like us, they live beyond their means, and Iceland itself can be an expensive place to live. I hope they can keep it together, because they really are a unique people. If they can keep inflation down and wages up they should do all right. They´ll never be a major player in the world, economically or politically, but they don´t need to be. All they need to be is themselves.
Iceland may not be perfect, it may not be Utopia, but the most exciting aspect about the country is that it actually has the potential to be. And the island itself is extraordinary.
And now...I come home.
Next stop---Spain ´07.

John
P.S. A chilly Utopia.
P.P.S. I just realized I never registered with the U.S. consulate . . . .

4/18/06 Iceblog Entry 6--Top o' the world, ma!

Greenhouse

The volcanic crater

Gullfoss

distant glacier

geysir

tectonic plate

You all might find this amusing: the Icelanders are big consumers of...ice cream. Yes, they live in one of the coldest countries on earth, and yet they love...ice cream. Go figure.
Have I had any ice cream since I´ve been here? As the locals say, Yeeow!

It´s beautiful today here in Reykjavik on my last full day in Iceland. It´s mild and sunny. I bought another disposable camera today (my third) and plan to just take a ton of shots of the city. I also took some additional shots inside the city library to show to my co-workers, should the pictures come out (pardon my fatalism).
The reason I had to buy a third camera was because of yesterday. I went on the Golden Circle Tour, which comprises stops at a greenhouse, a volcanic crater, a medieval church, a gargantuan waterfall, the geysirs, and finally the national park, all of which have names I can´t pronounce or spell (I left the brochure back at the hotel). Up till now all of the landscape I had seen outside of Reykjavik were fields of volcanic rock---unique but desolate. The bus tour yesterday, however, drove us through farmland and along huge open vistas of vast mountains. I saw my first glacier, the largest in Iceland, but only from a distance. The landscape is overwhelming, and at the risk of sounding like a surfer dude, awesome. I finally made it into a Roger Dean Yes album cover. If the pictures don´t come out I´ll spew.
At the volcanic crater I decided to walk the circumference of the crater back to the bus. In my haste to return to the bus on time I, of course, slipped and fell in the mud. Consequently at the next stop, the church, I spent most of the time in the bathroom trying to clean the mud off the back of my pants, shirt, and coat. It was when the female tour guide came in that I realized I was in the ladies room.
At the waterfall (I believe it´s spelled Gullfoss) I managed to get down to the falls themselves. It was frigid cold, and my glasses were covered with spray from the water, but it was exhilarating. I climbed to the highest point overlooking the falls, and it was there that I got pictures of the glacier and the largest active volcano in Iceland, off in the distance. The landscape was downright Siberian. I could see for miles and miles and miles . . . .
We stopped for lunch at the Hotel Geysir, and I finally had a chance to eat some genuine Icelandic cuisine---cold smoked salmon, potato salad, fried haddock, and geysir bread, which, as its name implies, is baked in a geysir (it´s moist and tastes like gingerbread, only not as sweet). Then I went to take some shots of the geysir. He´s a tricky fellow, you have to really be quick with the camera or you´ll miss a shot. One can get within 10-20 feet of the geysir and when it goes off, it´s pretty spectacular. The water in the geysir pools was turquoise, like at the Blue Lagoon.
The national park is located on the shores of a vast lake. I was down to my last three shots, and used two of them to get pictures of the American tectonic plate for my sister the geologist. The climb up to the top of the tectonic ridge was arduous, but once you got up there the view was... well, kind of a shock, really. It seemed as though I were on the pinnacle of Everest. One could see such vast distances in all directions. Huge mountain vistas. I had one shot left, and took it, and then...started walking back to the bus. Then I stopped and said to myself, What the hell are you doing? I think I was so focused on getting the best shot I could with a disposable camera that I simply forgot to stop and enjoy the view.
Next time I come to Iceland I´ll have to rent a car and drive up there, so I won´t be on the tour bus´ schedule. It simply wasn´t enough time to take it all in. It was like the Grand Canyon and the Pacific Coast all rolled into one. I was literally on top of the world.
Then I came home and slept. Had lasagna for dinner.

John
P.S. The bus to the airport doesn´t arrive at the hotel tomorrow until 1:30, so I will try and post a final entry before I leave.

4/16/06 Iceblog Entry 5--Nightclubbing, the Second Night

Salon

German Electronic Band

Well, it´s Easter Sunday in Reykjavik and yet, surprisingly, this cyber cafe is open, so I get to tell you all about my second night of clubbing.
Tomorrow I will be touring Icelandic nature all day.
I have discovered one area of the Icelandic economy where they do practice
tipping: strip clubs.
Club Odal (the "erotic club") was pretty bereft of people. I suppose a lot of guys were feeling too guilty to go out on Easter Sunday and look at naked women. I, however, had looked at enough naked men this past week that, well, frankly speaking, I needed this. I was also curious to see how the place would be vis. a vis. an American strip club. Well, the decor was very plush and dark, and in fact, reminded me of a Victorian brothel. I have to emphasize the dimness of the lighting since it was damn hard to see anatomical details in such low lighting. It was darker than the men´s showers, I can tell you that! I had no problem seeing anatomical details in the fookin´ men´s showers! (Sorry, it´s going to take a while to get over the trauma...so much back hair....) While I was there, though, I met a very lovely young dancer from Slovakia named Kiera. She has been in Iceland just over a month, staying with a girlfriend, and trying to earn enough money to go back to Slovakia and finish her studies. She´s majoring in economics. Personally I think she could be a model, but I guess it´s just easier to take her clothes off. She was very good at it---a lot of personality and playfulness. It wasn´t just about the pole. Oh yeah, they use poles here, too.
After about 45 minutes I left, because if I had stayed any longer, I might not have had enough money to pay my hotel bill.
The next stop was Pravda. It had an older and more urbane crowd than the club I went to on Friday night whose name I can´t pronounce. There were these guys with jarhead haircuts there, hanging out and dancing with these real beautiful women. At first I thought they were more American servicemen, but it became obvious they were European. I then imagined them as the sons of Russian gangsters in Iceland on holiday. I was bored and left.
The next stop was rex, which was not much more than a lounge. Red, velvety decor with low-lit chandeliers, couches and cushions. I left there soon as well. Fortunately the only cover charge I had paid so far was at the strip club.
It was fookin´ cold outside! A gentle snow was coming down with a chilly breeze blowing in off the North Atlantic at about two hundred miles an hour.
I´ll be very happy if I don´t catch a cold.
The next place I came to was called Salon, and here I had the most fun all night that did not involve nudity. It was peak hour (2-2:30) and everyone was going nuts. I was beginning to hear some of the same tunes from the dance floor at each place. Two of the current favorites here appear to be a down-tempo cover of "I Love Rock ´N Roll" and a more up-beat tune called "Island" (pronounced iss-land) which is how the locals say the name of their country. I found out from the drunk woman on Friday night that this song was Iceland´s contribution to the Eurovision song contest. It´s a very catchy tune.
For these people, patriotism means "let´s have a party", instead of "let´s have a war."
Speaking of the American military, I made an all-too-brief acquaintance with an American servicewoman at Salon who, like everyone at the American Air Force base at Keflavik, was celebrating her redeployment back to the U.S.
She was very happy that she was going home, but I´m sure she was also equally happy not to be going to Iraq. We danced to a couple of tunes, and then she had to leave with her friends. After trying to keep up with these people on the dance floor, I was tapped out. All Icelanders love to dance.
It´s the only place where I´ve seen as many dudes as women on the dance floor. It´s not unusual to see guys dancing with each other, like women do.
I should have stayed there but I decided to split as well. However, the wind was now blowing sideways, so I ducked into the next place I could find, a small watering hole. People were going nuts, dancing to Snoop Dog. It was too crowded and smoky, so I decided to brave the elements and head back downtown to Pravda to see if things were more happening than earlier. They were no longer letting people in, and the weather wasn´t getting any better, so I decided to run to the place I was at on Friday night. A group of guys were brawling across the street, which was the first time I´d seen any signs of violence among these people; but I suppose the effects of alcohol are pretty universal.
I asked what the cover charge was, and it was only $6. I asked who was playing and she said "a German electronic band." Finally some electronic music! Of course I got in just in time to watch the end of their set. It´s been that kind of week.
After they finished I left and slogged my way back to the hotel.
Today I slept.

As far as the clubs themselves go, I feel that Orpheus in Fells Point in its heyday was every bit as good as any of the places here, with one exception---the people. It´s the Icelanders themselves that make it such an intense experience. Had it not been a holiday weekend, and so blowing and cold, it might have been even more intense.
Icelanders are fookin´ nuts.

John

4/15/06 Iceblog Entry 4--Nightclubbing, The First Night

My Dinner with Edouard

Or, How John Almost Lost His Fookin´ Glasses

Fook. That´s how the Icelanders pronounce the F word. Fook.
As an addendum to my last entry, the restaurants opened after 5 on Good Friday, and most of the clubs were open. The club I was really interested in going to, NASA, was closed, however. Maybe tonight.
The evening began with a nice laid-back meal at a local restaurant...with Edouard! The bus that was supposed to have taken him to the north wasn´t running on Good Friday, so he went to the Golden Circle instead, and left today (Saturday).
Because NASA was closed I went instead to a nearby place that came recommended by Kristina, the hotel attendant. I asked if she was coming after work and she said "No, I´m going home," so I figured I would be spending the evening alone (Edouard had to get up at 8 the next morning). I left the hotel at about a quarter till 12 and bumped into who I believe is the owner of my hotel, who said, "Come over here. Electronic music can wait.
Come see the Northern Lights." I´m thinking, what? This far south? In the city? Apparently I had just missed them, but at one point I saw a faint green glimmer. Before I leave for the clubs tonight I´ll go out at about 11:30 and, if the sky is clear, maybe I´ll be able to see something.
When I got to the club at midnight it was dead. No one there. I thought maybe everyone stayed home for the holiday. So I left and wandered around for a while, came back, and sat alone in a chair waiting for the band to start, looking like (pardon the expression) "a spare prick at a wedding."
The band was obnoxiously loud, especially for the space. The only weird thing about them was the electric organ. The singer sounded like David Coverdale. They were a disappointment.
I can see plenty of lame rock bands in Baltimore, or anywhere in America.
Maybe I was expecting too much, but I was hoping Icelandic bands would take more chances. I guess it´s only the Icelandic acts that are signed (Bjork, Mum, Sigur Ros, AMPOP) who are willing to be weird. So I went back upstairs to the ´pub area´ which consisted of a bar, lounge area, pool tables, and a tiny but very popular dance area. By now the place was starting to get very crowded, so I made my way over to a chair by the window, and became acquainted with a middle-aged and very drunk Icelandic woman. We chatted, as well as possible, about Iceland vs. America, etc. Then she spilt wine on my pants and boots.
After cleaning off in the bathroom, I wandered about some more, eventually making my way back downstairs to the club side. I was determined to stay as long as possible, since the cover charge was the equivalent of $25.
By now it occurred to me that the Icelanders party on a much more serious level than Americans. Everyone dances--men and women--and they seem like a very tight community. I telegraphed that I was foreign, basically because I wasn´t drunk out of my fookin´gourd. The Icelanders like their booze.
The whole night was like one big mosh pit. You couldn´t help but slam into people. No one cares. It´s a matter of course. The audience for the band was rowdy and raving. The whole night was like a drunken carnival ride.
These kids are among the wealthiest in the world, and they likes to par-tay.
Eventually the old drunk lady emerged and began seriously slamming to the band. Then she grabbed me around the neck, screamed something in my ear, and in my attempt to extricate myself, somehow caused my glasses to go shooting across the floor.
All I can remember about the next couple of minutes is fishing blindly about the floor of the club, pushing people´s legs aside, and yelling "Shit!
Shit!" Someone kindly offered me their cell phone to use as a flashlight, but it didn´t help. I stood up helplessly, forgetting of course the spare pair I had back at the hotel. Then a guy comes over and hands them to me.
They were in one piece. They weren´t even scratched.

At dawn (which here is around 4 AM) I wandered around the streets, which were now teeming. Downtown Reykjavik is not terribly different from Fells Point or Georgetown. The Icelanders, though, make good party. There is no doubt about that. And they all seem to know each other. A tight little country.
As I was wandering about, I encountered some American servicemen, one of whom was making an asshole out of himself. They were all being shipped back to America soon. The U.S. pulled out of its defense agreement with Iceland.
As it got brighter, I walked down to the water to get a picture of the mountains and the bay at sunrise, but with a disposable camera, it´s hard to say if it will come out. Then I went home, and surprisingly, slept like a fookin´ baby.
They is some crazy-ass Viking mutha-fookaz!

Tonight (Saturday): Club Odal, Pravda, and, maybe, NASA

John

4/14/06 Iceblog Entry 3--The Martian Hot Tub

OK, check this out. It´s Good Friday, snowy and cold, and everything is closed. Restaurants, shops. Luckily this cyber cafe is open. My hotel attendant told me that as recently as five years ago the police would go around and shut down any shops that were open surreptitiously. Very different from the U.S., where even the Resurrection don´t trump the almighty dollar. Everything will be closed on Sunday, too. I should have booked the trip a week earlier.
First, before we get to the Lagoon, a few observations:
Icelanders don´t tip.
I have actually been mistaken for an Icelander twice already---by other Icelanders. One woman asked me in Icelandic what time it was, and a carload of guys asked me in Icelandic what I can only assume were directions.
Some notes on Icelandic fashion. The young women wear high-heeled boots, jeans rolled up at the ankles, wide belts, and leather jackets with fur lining. The young men wear all sorts of things, but skinny ties are most prevalent. The jeans that men and women wear are tight, unlike the baggy-pants look in the States. The young men seem to favor heavy bangs on their foreheads parted to one side.
I have been eating a lot of hot dogs since I´ve been here. The locals call them pylsurs, and they are very big with the Icelanders, the equivalent of cheese steaks in Philly. They´re pretty good; I had one for breakfast today, because I slept through the breakfast at the hotel.

We were driven to the Blue Lagoon through more Martian landscape (they should film sci-fi movies here). The day was beautiful but cold. The Blue Lagoon spa itself is located in the middle of a field of volcanic rock roughly in the middle of nowhere. There´s construction going on there which leads me to believe they´re expanding it into a resort.
I arrived and went through the same drill as at the swimming pool: shoes off, shower first, then proceed to the lagoon. As usual, in the shower, there is always the ever-present danger of inadvertently touching another dude´s genitals.
It´s hard for me to describe the Lagoon itself. The waters are turquoise and smell vaguely of sulfur from the geothermal properties. Certain areas are warmer than others, and the steam can sometimes obscure everyone around you.
Basically you walk around in the water like a crab. Some areas are deeper than others, and the floor of the Lagoon is silica and rock, so flip-flops or rubber shoes are advisable. There are these silica mudmask stations where people can dip a spoon into the slats of a wooden crate which contains the white mud-like silica, which people then proceed to wipe all over their faces, so that they look like certain African tribes during religious ceremonies. Some who overdo it look like they´ve been in a pie fight. The masks are supposed to make your skin soft or something. It was funny watching people of different nationalities wiping this stuff all over each other.
I soaked in the water for about two hours until hunger forced me out. I showered, dressed, and went for lunch (more pylsurs--hey, at least they´re cheap). While I was there I also made the acquaintance of a young French student (a dude this time) named Edouard. Nice guy, very friendly, knew a lot about 70s European prog-rock. We talked politics and travel. Then it was back in the Lagoon.
During the afternoon shift I discovered the waterfall. Pardon my language, but that waterfall made me its bitch. I just stood there underneath and allowed that water to pound me into submission. It was like a car wash. Then it was into the steam room. Then back into the Lagoon.
I estimate conservatively that I spent cumulatively 6 hours in the water.
The whole experience was weird and wonderful.
This was also the most international crowd I´ve been with since I´ve been in Iceland. Apart from the aforementioned Frenchman, there were Asians, Germans, lots of Brits, Americans, etc. And since I keep getting asked, especially by my co-workers, yes, there were many hot chicks there, and they were either clearly too young or with guys. But I tell you this, what with the swimming pool and the Lagoon showers, I´ve seen enough naked men to last me a lifetime. I mean, come on! Will someone please teach European men about manscaping?! For the love of God, Bigfoot doesn´t have that much back hair!!
So I´m going ahead and stopping in the local strip club (they call it "erotic club") this weekend so that, you know, I can look at some naked women for a change, and hopefully obliterate the images of hairy butt cracks from my mind forever.
After I managed to extricate myself from the water (and the showers), I had a quiet dinner in the local restaurant (grilled salmon with potatoes and cooked vegetables). For dessert I had skyr with blueberries. Skyr has been a staple of the Icelandic diet for about a thousand years. It´s essentially yogurt. It was one of the single best purchases I´ve made since I´ve been here.
After I got back to Reykjavik completely exhausted I agreed to meet Edouard for drinks at a local pub (he was leaving for the northern part of the country today), and then went back to my hotel for a good night´s sleep, which at the Hotel Metropolitan amounts to 5 or 6 hours, non-consecutive, interrupted every so often by the service elevator.
Today all the restaurants are closed, so I´ll be eating lunch in Reykjavik, Iceland at Pizza Pronto.

John

4/12/06 Iceblog Entry 2--John causes his first international incident

the swimming pool

Day 2 in Iceland was all about me figuring out the Viking mass transit system.
I took the bus out to the big swimming pool/spa on the outskirts of Reykjavik (don´t even ask me how to spell or pronounce it). I forgot to make sure I had exact change and was trying to figure out how to pay so that the driver would, you know, let me off the bus at some point. When we arrived at the pool I said "Look man, here´s 500 KR. Keep the change." He waved me off.
I promised to pay him back on the return ride. He looked at me like I was mentally deranged, which I am.
The pool cashier was very nice and instructed me on how to deposit my belongings in the locker (you carry the key on a strap around your wrist or ankle). I then proceeded to the locker area, walking past many pairs of shoes. After changing into my trunks I deposited my belongings successfully into the locker and proceeded to walk out to the pool area in my shoes and socks. I found a spot to set my towel and glasses down and began taking off my shoes, like I was at a community pool here in the States. One of the lifeguards comes over to me and says "Eh--what are you doing?" (He spoke in English because of the dumb-ass tourist look on my face). "You have to, eh, take shower first, ja? And, eh, you leave shoes inside?" I replied, "Oh, I´m sorry. You see, I´m an American, and we can do whatever we want." OK, I´m kidding about that last part. I apologized and went back into the locker room and proceeded to shower naked with a bunch of naked Icelandic men.
The pools were chlorinated and heated and I did a little swimming (I am way out of shape). There were two sets of ´hot pots´: warm, and freakin´ hot. I spent most of the time in the warm ones, and it was all I could do to force myself to leave, because I had to catch the bus to Kringlan, the mall.
Oh, I forgot---I was also scolded by an elderly gentleman for tracking water into the locker area.
I do plan on going back before I leave, so I can get the procedure right.
And in case you´re wondering, here it is:
Step 1--take off your shoes.
Step 2--strip and dump everything in your locker.
Step 3--proceed to the showers with your towel and wash with soap, paying special attention to your feet, hair, and naughty bits.
Step 4--towel off, and then get your trunks from the locker.
Step 5--you may now swim.

OK, so I hop on what I thought was the correct bus to Kringlan, and it turns out the bus had just stopped at Kringlan. And, it was the same driver.
We drop off every other passenger at many, many stops, eventually leaving just myself and the two English college girls sitting behind me. The driver brings the bus to a stop in the middle of what I believe was the dock area, or in other words, a million friggin´ miles from where we needed to be. So the students and I try to communicate to the driver where we need to be and he says, "Ja. Eh, the next driver take you there."
We sit, and wait. The engine is still running so we assume someone at some point will come and take us away.
After about fifteen minutes two young musicians hop on the bus and proceed to the back. We wait.
I chat with the two college girls (they are on a school geography trip), and wait.
The sun begins to set.
Eventually another driver appears and takes us away.
Two stops later we drop off the two college girls and proceed on to what I hope is the goddamn mall. At one stop I say to the driver "Kringlan, ja?"
And he says "No, Kringlan far away." On we go.
After a half hour tour of the bus stops of Reykjavik we finally arrive at Kringlan.
It was closed. The mall closes at 7:30. At this point all I can do is chuckle and shake my head.
The building itself was still open because the movie theater was still showing movies (all American), so I wandered through the deserted mall, looking at the various shops to see if I should bother coming back. As I wander the empty halls, the sound of Paul McCartney singing "With a Little Luck" comes on the sound system. If there is a God, I believe that at that moment he was laughing his ass off at me.
I made it back to 101 Reykjavik and ate dinner at the Americana place again.
On the plus side, I´m now pretty familiar with the general Reykjavik metropolitan area.

Today was intentionally uneventful. I visited the National Museum, the city library, and did some shopping. I bought a disposable camera and have taken some pictures, which I hope will come out (the flash didn´t come on in the library, which concerns me). Tomorrow I visit the Blue Lagoon. If I make it back in one piece, I´ll tell you all about it on Friday.

John

4/11/06 Iceblog Entry 1

the cyber cafe is in the back left-hand corner

public library

my hotel room

Um....OK, this should be interesting. I´m coming to you live from a cyber cafe in downtown Reykjavik, typing this on a keyboard that is largely in Icelandic for my first blog entry. The internet in my hotel is wireless only. Oh, and I´ve had about three hours sleep in the last two days, so like I said...interesting.
I flew in with a gaggle of American high school students bound for Denmark, and the little shits wouldn´t let me sleep on the flight. Monday was spent largely in a state of jet lag stupor. My hotel room is satisfactory, though not with many amenities (nice complimentary breakfasts, though). The ride from the airport took us through a bleak landscape of volcanic rock that reminded me of the Mars Rover pictures. The city itself is beautiful, though the outskirts have that utilitarian "Eastern European" look that reminds me of Orwell. However, downtown Reykjavik definitely has that old-world European flava. The locals are predominately young and beautiful, very hip.
I ate at a nearby restaurant whose decor was Americana. I was greeted with smiling pictures of Dean Martin, Elizabeth Taylor, and for some reason, Dustin Hoffman. My first full meal in Iceland was fish n´ chips.
Today´s itinerary is shopping at the mall for a new camera (the one I brought decided to stop taking pictures), a small white noise machine for my noisy hotel room (two of the hotel attendants were mucking about noisily in one of the rooms on my floor last night at 3 in the morning....painting). I hope to get into a hot tub this evening.
If I make it to Thursday, I´m off to the Blue Lagoon. The weekend will be for clubbing.
I already miss everyone. Next year, if I make it to Barcelona as planned, I´m going to spend more money on a nicer (and hopefully quieter) hotel, book it for a week only, and see if I can snag someone to go with me.
I´ll be back tomorrow, hopefully in a more lucid frame of mind.
---John
P.S. Iceland has only three TV channels, and at least two of them show nothing but American programs subtitled in Icelandic. Last night I was watching American Idol, Jay Leno, Boston Public, and an old episode of Cheers. All day long they play nothing but pop music videos. The first thing I ever saw on Icelandic television... was Kanye West.
P.P.S. I have discovered another Iceland band that I like. They´re called AMPOP and they sound like indie pop, except that they´re interesting.
P.P.P.S. Icelandic is damn near close to Klingon. æ þ ö ð