One Last Time, This Time

I have to go home tomorrow, and I´m not happy about it. At all. I´m having an internal hissy fit, and it is exhausting and sad. My inner toddler is screaming to be released so she can let loose a string of slobbery "I don´t wannas!" Instead of yelling and flailing around I´m currently sitting alone in Selma´s apartment after having made a first attempt at packing, listening to Ásgeir´s saddest songs in Icelandic. I am in mourning.

Making returning to Minnesota even less appealing is my impending apartment move. I will get home Monday night, and have to pack up all my worldly possessions from my cozy one bedroom apartment and move on Wednesday. No, I did not start before I left on this journey. I blame Past Mallory. Present Mallory isn´t thrilled about it, and Future Mallory (the Mallory on Tuesday) is going to be really upset.

In the last three days I have been soaking up as much of Reykjavik as possible, including some of the regular rain showers. On Friday morning it was rainy again, so I took my time getting ready and then did some shopping and walking around in the afternoon. It was a good settle down somewhere and read a book sort of day. That evening, Selma, the Erins, Erin Johnson´s cousin Oli, and I went out on the town. 

Selma and Erin

Reykjavik weekends are nuts, though Fridays are generally quieter than Saturdays. We went to Tapas Bar for a great dinner at 8pm. We went all out and did the 7 course tapas special. It included: bacon wrapped shellfish, duck, salmon, prosciutto, chicken, some sort of white, salty fish, and...foal. Yes, baby horse.

Bacon wrapped shellfish, duck, prosciutto, and salmon.

Some sort of fish

Foal. I know. I´m sorry.

Dessert. Almost couldn´t enjoy it, we were so full.

Trust me, I could not have been more conflicted. But it is a thing here. And I´m all about taking part in culturally diverse opportunities when traveling. It was heartbreakingly good. For those of you reading this and gathering your pitchforks and torches, I´m very sorry. Our dinner took about three hours, and was probably one of the most interesting dining experiences I have ever had. 

After dinner, my friend Stefán was having people over at his place for a ´finish the beer in my fridge so I don´t have to move it next week´party. There was a pretty international crowd present, with representatives from Iceland, the US, Guatemala and Australia. We had a great time, and around 1am all left for the bars. I´m not normally a big bar person. I got over that several years ago. Here though, the atmosphere is so fantastically energetic. There are plenty of morons, just like anywhere else, but with a good group of friends, they can be avoided and fun can be had by all.

Beer Pong in Iceland

3:30am in Reykjavik looks like a cloudy afternoon in MN.

We bounced around to several different bars, all of which were crowded and hotter than bloody blue blazes (that´s one of my mom´s expressions). After a couple hours, most of us called it a night. I walked back to Selma´s (she had gone back earlier) around 3:45am. The bars are open until around 6am, so that was an early night.

Saturday morning Selma left very early for Fáskruðsfjörður where she will be spending a week. I woke up long enough to bid her a sleepy "adios" and then went back to sleep until about 11am. It was raining again, which by this time was annoying, but in no way surprising. Erin Johnson and I met up downtown mid afternoon. We went to Kolaportið, Reykjavik´s flea market, and bought some books in Icelandic. I got a copy of The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. Kolaportið has everything from lopapeysas (Icelandic wool sweaters) to jewelry and antiques, and rotten shark to new shoes. They are open on the weekends in a big warehouse down by the harbor, and it is definitely worth a visit. 

I didn´t buy this, but had to send a picture of Icelandic romance novels to my Smutty Book Club Girls.

Erna, gurka

Erin Jones met up with us at Kex Hostel where they were having an all day concert. A different artist every hour from noon to midnight. We got to see three different bands during our time there, including 1860, one of my favorites from Iceland. The sun even came out for a few minutes.

1860

We went for a late dinner at Asta Sol´s house around 9pm. She and her husband had prepared amazing leg of lamb with a mushroom/butter/gravy type sauce, carmelized potatoes, and veggies. Indescribably delicious. 

We got to play with her baby, Nói, who is adorable. Her older son, who is 4, was totally uninterested in us being at his house. He had Batman to watch on his iPad, so we were irrelevant. By midnight I was spent, and ready to head home. The Erins and I said good night to Asta Sol, and then after walking part way home with them, I had to say goodbye to the Erins too. They will be here about two more weeks to finish their language program before heading back to Minnesota. Lucky ducks.

Today I was pretty lucky though, because I got to go horseback riding AGAIN. I went through a company called IShestar, and it was a great ride. There were 6 of us on an advanced, 3 hour ride. We circled Helgafell, a small mountain near Hafnarfjörður. The horse I was on was making it his personal mission to be at the front of the charge whenever we were going faster than a walk. Keeping him from passing the guide was exhausting, but he was a fun challenge. He was large for an Icelandic horse, and had a real need for speed. Normally I would think that was fantastically fun, but I didn´t want to be the idiot who let her horse run wild and didn´t follow the rules. A big part of me wanted to break free from the group and gallop across the lava fields just as badly as my horse seemed to. I restrained myself, and him, and stayed with the group.

For those with delicate sensibilities, I apologize, but this is hilarious. This was on the customer review board at the stable today. No spell check, I guess. 

My fast, four legged friend.

Selfie with horse.

Got to wear my fancy new riding pants.

The sun was actually out for awhile during the last part of the ride and our return to Reykjavik via shuttle bus, so after a quick shower I went out do some more exploring of this amazing city. I felt a little giddy, and had this image float into my head....

My first destination happened to be the old cemetery on Suðargata. I´ve been told it is really beautiful, and I was not disappointed. It may seem a little strange to walk around a graveyard, but really it was very peaceful. The history of the place really spoke to me. This particular cemetery, called Hólavallagarður, began in 1838. A woman named Guðrún Oddsdóttir was the first to be buried there in that year, and consequently became the guardian of Hólavallagarður. I was determined to find her gravesite, which is marked by the largest cast iron cross in the whole cemetery. It took me awhile, as there are an estimated 30,000 people buried there.

I had forgotten to grab a jacket earlier, and it was getting chilly, but I wasn´t ready to head back home yet. My last day here, and I wanted to take it all in. I walked towards Tjörnin, the picturesque pond in the middle of town. I took a few pictures and then put my camera away to really enjoy the here and now. I was walking, thinking how much I was going to miss all of it when two girls (who were from Denmark) walked up and asked me if I lived here. I wish.

I told them I did not, but had spent quite a lot of time here. They asked a bunch of questions as we finished the walk around the pond, and I gave some recommendations of things I have enjoyed doing here in this and past visits. "If you had only one day in Reykjavik, what would you do?" one of the girls asked. How could I begin to answer that. One day could never be enough. Museums, shops, the amazing nature and colorful houses that line the streets. The stunning architecture of Harpa, the statues scattered around the city, the view from the top of Hallgrímskirkja. The beach at Nauthólsvík or shining Perlan up on its hill. There is an endless amount of wondrous things to see and do here.

I stopped for a pylsa and sparkling water at Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur, the famous hotdog stand. I had one yesterday for lunch as well, but I have to get them while the getting is good. Pylsur do not taste the same in Minnesota. Also, I know how to order and get through the whole transaction at the counter in Icelandic, so I even if I hadn´t wanted a hot dog I might have done it just for the language ego boost. 

Now here I am, reflecting on the last two amazing weeks. Several people ask me each time I come here, "Would you move here?" I have thought about this a lot. Like, a lot, a lot. My immediate reaction is to say "Yes, absolutely." The truth of it is, it would be a difficult decision to make, if the opportunity ever arose. I guess I´ll cross that bridge if I ever reach it. For now, I will be thankful for another great visit. My amazing hosts, who so kindly open their homes to me, I am forever in your debt. I sincerely hope you come to Minnesota someday soon for a nice, long visit.

Signing off, for now at least.
Mallory

A Triumphant Return and Spontaneous Road Trips

Tuesday morning I had to say bless bless (bye bye) to my family in Fáskruðsfjorður. I had such a wonderful week with them, and it was difficult to say goodbye. Bogga and Stefán Alex drove me to the airport in Egilsstaðir and waited with me there until it was time to board the plane. They are thinking about planning a trip to The US and Canada, which would include Minnesota in the next year or so, and I really hope that it happens. I would love to see them and return some of the kindness that they have shown for me here in Iceland.

I felt like an old pro boarding the little plane back to Reykjavik. This is my 3rd roundtrip journey across the country, and it is starting to feel fairly routine. This flight was only about 2/3 full, and I didn´t have anyone in the seat next to me. There were, however, four unaccompanied minors in the back of the airplane throwing a rave, or something equally obnoxiously loud.

I managed to take a cab back to Selma´s apartment speaking to the cab driver in only Icelandic, which I consider a huge victory. Whether he thought I was Icelandic or not, I do not know, but at the very least he humored me and kept talking in Icelandic during our limited conversation. Many of the people in Reykjavik instantly switch to English if they suspect for a second that Icelandic isn´t a language that you speak fluently. This is a problem for those of us that are trying to learn more of the language and want a chance to practice on unsuspecting locals. In fact, a short while later that afternoon, when I was out walking around the town and doing some shopping I had this exact experience (and not for the first time).

A picture of Reykjavik from the church tower from my 2012 trip.

Picture this: I´m dressed as trendily as I can ever manage (mediocre at best), trying to fit in in the ever stylish Reykjavik. Tourists are easily spotted here by their jeans or cargo pants, hiking boots, colorful jackets and large backpacks. I try to avoid this look within the city. I am browsing in a shop called Minja, which has some maps of Iceland I´ve been coveting for my last couple of visits to Iceland. A few other people come in the shop and then head back out, leaving me alone with the shop girl. She looks me dead in the eyes and says, well, I don´t know what she says. I stare at her like a deer in the headlights before managing to say, in Icelandic, "Forgive me, I´m only learning Icelandic."

She smiles, "Oh, you are learning Icelandic," she says in English. "I said, please tell me if you want to ask me any questions about these." She points to the random souvenirs in my hand. I look around the shop awhile longer, disappointed that I hadn´t understood her, and that she had switched to English. When I checked out though, buying the maps I´d been eyeing for so long, she switched back to Icelandic, though speaking to me slowly. I am very grateful for this. I managed to get through the rest of the interaction without any further incident.

The Erins (Jones and Johnson) walked over to Selma´s apartment that evening and I made fajitas for dinner for the four of us. It was fun to hear about the trials and tribulations of their language program the University, along with their successes. It sounds like they are learning a great deal. I am jealous of the length of time they get to be here (a solid month) and the amount of Icelandic they will get to learn.

My Snorri friend, Stefán sent me a message around 10pm that night asking if I wanted to go with him and a visiting buddy named Chris on a day trip to the Snæfellsnes peninsula the next day. Of course I did.

We spent all of Wednesday driving and exploring the south side of the peninsula. We stopped and had lunch in Hellnar. I ate another tasty bowl of fish soup and some really incredible bread at the little cafe along the rocky coastline. I think I should tour Iceland and taste all the fish soup in the country and then write a guide book about where to find the best of it. Potential bestseller.

Stefán at the cafe in Hellnar

View from our lunch table

Fish soup in Hellnar. Not to be confused with other fish soups I´ve eaten this past week.

View of the cafe from the beach.

Right outside of Hellnar was a really neat crater lake, a short walk from the road. We took a quick look at that. Totally worth the stop. This was also the sunniest point in our day.

Crater lake near Hellnar

We explored Djúpalónssandur, a black sand/rock beach, and then took a short hike over the lava fields to another little black sand beach/cove called Dritvik. A light but determined drizzle started up on our walk back, and we were pretty soggy by the time we got back to the car, where I had optimistically and foolishly left my rain jacket.

Djúpalónssandur

Djúpalónssandur

Dritvik

Lagoon at Dritvik

A short drive back the way we had come delivered us to the village of Arnarstapi, which sits just below Mt. Snæfell and the glacier, Snæfellsjökull. In Jules Verne´s novel, Journey to the Center of the Earth, this is where the characters find the entrance to the passage that leads them to, well, the center of the earth. The weather for our journey was foggy, with on and off rain, and the top of the mountain was not easily seen. When I was in this same area in 2011 for Snorri I had a glorious view of the glacier and surrounding landscapes. It was a bit more muted this time, but still lovely.

Chris on the arch. This made me feel slightly ill.

I want this house to be my house.

Arnarstapi

By this time the afternoon was pretty well spent, and it was around a two and a half hour drive back to Reykjavik. We skipped the last item on our itinerary, a hike into a weird gorge along the road that we referred to as "The Crack" all day, for the sake of time.

I was thoroughly chilled and feeling slightly car sick from being in the backseat all day so once I got back to Selma´s I donned my new lopapeysa (Bogga and Lisa bought me a lopapeysa and it is beautiful!!) and buried myself in blankets on the couch. Then Selma came home from work with ice cream for us. I found that I was suddenly warm enough to eat the ice cream. It was an Icelandic miracle. We watched old reruns of friends and played on our ipads, which was a great, cozy way to spend an evening after so many busy days and nights.

Check out my gorgeous lopapeysa.

Today, Thursday, I walked the short way to the Saga Museum. It is a neat, and slightly creepy museum, with wax models of famous, historic Icelanders. The exhibits paint a rather grim story of the history of Iceland, but an interesting one. A woman that I think was German practically glued herself to my side as I walked from exhibit to exhibit. I kept tripping over her every time I turned around. I even tried to let her get ahead of me, but I think she wanted to be best friends. I avoided eye contact and turned up the headphones I was wearing which narrated the exhibit. No time for people without a sense of personal space.

Next on my busy social calendar was a visit with my friend Gummi. We met last year at the Icelandic Camp in Gimli, Manitoba. He has been going to Canada to work at the camp for the last 6 summers. He lives here in Iceland, about a 15 minute drive from where I´m staying here in 101 Reykjavik. He picked me up and I had a wonderful visit with him and his sister Hrönn, who was also at the camp last summer. I also got to meet her baby, Ásgeir, who is the happiest, smiliest baby boy I have ever met. He then dropped me off at the Kex Hostel where I met up with the 2014 Snorri group for dinner. I got to see my old friend, Megan, who is on the program this year. It was fun to catch up with her and to chat with some of the other Snorris as well.

Ásgeir and I

Gummi and I

Megan and I, reunited in Iceland, with ice cream.

I can´t believe I only have three and a half days left on this trip. I wish I could stay for months longer. I am so lucky to get to be here at all, and yet it never seems like enough time. I´m not really one of those people that looks forward to going home and sleeping in their own bed by the end of a trip. I´d rather sleep on couches and air mattresses for an indefinite amount of time and get to stay somewhere new and wonderful than to have to go "home" at all. One of these years I´ll have to expand my travel repertoire and go see some other countries. I just love visiting the people I have met here so much, that it would be hard to sacrifice a chance to do that again to go someplace else. Here is hoping I have the good fortune to get to make that tough decision next summer.

Oh, I booked another horseback riding tour for Sunday afternoon. I just could not help myself. I´m going to need a twelve step program when I get home.