Priceland: the colds and the warms.

30th April



We made our way to Heathrow via the tube. It couldn’t have been easier. Once at the airport, we grabbed a tasty lunch and before we knew it, we were flying over Scotland and heading the furthest North either of us have been.


Once we had got our bags back, we headed outside to catch a 50km bus ride to Reykjavik. It was so cold that our exhalation was visible; it went right to my bones and to think that summer is nearly here.


Weirdly, the bus station in Reykjavik was in the middle of nowhere and there was only one bus company. We had no idea what was going to happen. We disembarked off the big coach only to climb onto a minibus and the driver said something in Icelandic to which Kath replied “sure, if you say so.” We were not entirely sure that he would drop us off at the right place but we vocalised no further observations until we’d seen where it was he was taking us.


Luckily for us, he was right and having checked in we ventured out into Reykjavik. It was so European, one would have been mistaken for the south of France if only it was warmer; the sun was out and everyone was sitting al-fresco enjoying a pint and having a good old chin wag by a park in the centre of town.


The fun lasted as long as the sun was out, but sadly after 90 minutes or so the sun slipped behind a huge building and the place emptied itself quite naturally. So, having read about it online we wandered back to our hotel to enjoy its own little spa in the basement. It was luxurious; almost brand new and it had a sauna, steam room and a Jacuzzi big enough for at least ten people. The steam room stank of sulphur, which only encouraged us more because we knew we were getting the geothermic stuff. It was decadent.


Even when we were getting ready for bed at around eleven the sun had not fully set and the street lights were not on, it was actually a little eerie. Our view is spectacular; it looks over a bay with snow-capped hills rising from the sea with a little settlement at the waters edge in the distance.



1st May


Iceland is cold, and bright and windy. Everyone is very friendly but also in a relative hurry not to be outside. We explore Reykjavik, the only place in the world where all the guidebooks insist you spend a majority of your time here drinking (or, as the Icelanders call it, on the “runtur.”)



2nd May


Yay, it’s scheduled tour day! Dave, our English driver and host, said he moved to Iceland in the 80s because he’s a murderer on the run and no one would think to look here. As we drove along the flat countryside (dotted with truncated mountains), we gazed in awe at all the “summer homes” that plagued the landscape. Everyone, it seemed, had a second home and with no specifically superior spot to house them they sprawl randomly across the plains. If you’re lost in an Icelandic forest, goes the saying, stand up.


Every once in a while, we’ll pass a rugged, wild-looking horse that looks like it probably speaks Icelandic. When the inaugural government came to power, one of the very first laws passed ensured the purity of the majestic horsy breed - and the law stands to this day: horses can leave, but they can’t come back. I think this makes them the horse equivalent of the Burmese.


Our first stop was a geothermal plant where some real magic is taking place. Outside, the snow was falling hard, but inside the plant continues to produce 5x more energy each year than needed. Hot water is sent straight from the ground to people’s houses!


In fact, Reykjavik may be the world’s greenest city. Hydrogen fuelled cars, which are heavily subsidized by the government, seem to have edged out the sillier looking competition (e.g. think solar panels on the roof). Drivers enjoy FREE refills at the pump. There’s only one in Iceland, but the cars can go 100km on one tank. Mercedes, we learn, has just made a car that can go 300km, so in the future car owners won’t have to rent a Hummer to drive to the airport.


On the way to the geysers, we stopped at the Kerið volcano crater, which made us feel very small. It looks exactly like an asteroid had taken its toll, and there was a beautifully blue lake shimmering far below. The wind swept us back into the car to see the geothermic valley Haukadalur.


This is home to the geyser called Geyser, which gave the rest of them their names. Grey mud boils in pots, and small hot rivers cross the landscape. Once every five minutes, one of the water holes swells a bit, drains with a sucking noise and then EXPLODES up to 70 feet in the air. George decided to watch downwind so he could get a little wet, and was completely drenched in the hot and egg-smelling water. People cheered. He said it was nice for about two seconds, then the Icelandic wind blew any heat away. We went inside to the gift shop and bought woollen headbands.


We journeyed down the road to the beautiful waterfall Gullfoss (meaning Golden Falls). Once you’ve seen Niagara Falls, though, no waterfall will ever truly be as impressive. It was turbulent and very misty, and Dave recommended we put our faces in the mist. Instead, we hiked up to the hut and ate the traditional Icelandic smoked lamb soup while watching hail drive hard into the wooden deck of the restaurant.


Last, we headed to Þingvellir National Park. Iceland is said to have been settled by Vikings in 870. By 930, the first parliamentary proceedings were taking place in Þingvellir. Icelanders are very proud of their Viking heritage, and go to great lengths to preserve it. For example, when naming a child, parents may only choose from a list of registered Icelandic names. These date back to the times where people named their babies after things they saw (or what they looked like). Dave knows people called “Stone Mask” and “Cup” and has heard of someone actually called “Ugly.”


As well as the political, the park has geological significance. Situated over two tectonic plates, rifts in the ground illustrate where the Eurasian and North American plates are drifting apart. You can stand on the two plates at once, just like people do when they take a bathroom break at a border in North America. It’s empowering.


On the way home, Dave finally told us all about what had happened recently to Iceland’s economy. It tanked. It tanked hard. Here’s the story according to Dave:



Back in the eighties, Iceland didn’t have much going on. They exported fish and woollen crafts, but overall the standard of living was more similar to Albania than America. Suddenly, however, things changed. The whole country is centred on Reykjavik, and in that small town, everyone knows each other. Most are related. Everyone owes each other a favour.



Despite its lack of natural resources, (and wintertime sunlight) Iceland had a lot of people who are good with numbers. Those people, unlike their counterparts elsewhere, did not regard the government as a potential threat to their ambitions because the Prime Minister just borrowed their lawn mower. Banks sprung up everywhere. The government allowed these banks to become much bigger than the country’s GDP - several times over.


International inter-bank lending allowed the bank’s debts to become impossible to finance. Everyone had been living like kings for the past ten years - and now the interest on their mortgages were making them dirt broke.


In 2007 the Economist ranked the krónur as the world’s most overvalued currency (and the most expensive place in the world to buy a Big Mac…) Why, though? There’s not a heck of a lot going on in Iceland. Where does all this value come from?


My favourite story describing Iceland’s economic growth in the nineties is this: two Icelandic men are relaxing (at a bar). One man turns to the other and says, “I have a cat, and it is worth Kr 2 million. The problem is, my wife is allergic.” The other man replies “What a coincidence! I have a dog worth Kr 2 million, and my wife says it sheds too much.” The men trade pets, and then set up banks and lend vast sums of money against their new assets.


Back in the real world, everyone in Europe is getting wind of the fact that maybe there’s not actually the hypothetical Kr 4 million in the banks. They all decide they wanted their money out of these shifty Icelandic banks, now. When one bank defaulted, Gordon Brown declared the whole country “terrorists” (subject to anti-terrorism laws). No man, woman or teenager can recollect this speech without cussing violently.


The krónur bottomed out. The entire government resigned in one day. Following the collapse of cronyism was anarchy. But a polite, resigned anarchy. Strongly worded letters were composed.


Now, the Icelanders have voted in a seventy-year-old woman who is the first openly gay head of government in the modern world. She looks good, too. Analysts have compared what happened to Iceland as “going to the dentist and having all your teeth pulled at once.” In other developed countries, teeth are only going one at a time.


Amid all the loss, there is hope. Russia, and the IMF, have lent billions to keep the country from bankruptcy. Car salesmen are being retrained as car mechanics. The government is trying to focus on tourism, and join the European Union (maybe).


Unfortunately, the banks may never regain their lost credential. Most people prefer to deal in cash, “black money” and even barter their services for goods. It protects individuals from the scary banks now, but even Dave admits that soon there will be no money for the government to provide social services with. We tourists are definitely picking up the slack, disillusioned in thinking that the prices hadn’t adjusted (they have!)



3rd May




On this bank holiday, we tried to explore more, but the town was completely dead. We took the elevator up the local church, which has a beautiful organ that looks like an engine. It has over 2,000 pipes. The 7th floor of the tower affords panoramic views with which to test our panoramic photo software. After, we check out the flea market. Old VHS copies of The Little Mermaid are being sold for $15. The crappiest of calculators from the sixties is on sale, but hasn’t worked in two decades. We laugh at the fax machines, and leave.



4th May




Bank Holiday Monday means that everyone is on their way home to Britain. This means we get the Blue Lagoon to ourselves! We were picked up at our hotel and traversed 40km through a landscape that could have been the backdrop to the fake moon landing. Some of the rocks had been arranged into shelters. Imagine how amazing it is that a pile of rocks stays vertical after a thousand years of earthquakes!


The Blue Lagoon Spa is often voted “the worlds best”. Certainly, the Icelanders think so. We start by taking a walk around the premises, but realize how stupidly cold we were when we could be ridiculously warm. Blue Lagoon sits next to a geothermal plant, which has done the work of boring into the Earth’s crust. The water is just below hot-tub temperature, but in some points is too hot to linger.


Great pots of white silica mud are presented for guests to cover themselves in. Boasting two steam rooms, a waterfall, a sauna and a drink service, we had to be pried away. For the decadent, there are also a variety of amazing-sounding spa services and a four star restaurant. And, did we mention? The water is Easter egg blue! The mineral water, which naturally replaces itself every 40 hours, has anti-aging properties. We were 10 and 11 when we got out. It was sooooooooooooo worth the trip to Iceland.

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