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