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Published: March 12th 2009
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Iceland is awesome. Anyone new to the region can’t help but be astonished by the dramatic, volatile landscape and the scenic offerings it contains. It’s a
Lord of the Rings -eque white washed desert with an array of stunning vistas. Anything from azul-blue jagged glaziers, snow capped peaks and thundering wide waterfalls high up in the silent mountains... to stark deep canyons, miles of lava fields and picturesque rivers running between the isolated fishing villages. Rising up on every horizon are natural chimneys of steam smoking up out of the geothermic land. A remarkable sight that inspired the first Norwegian settlers in the 9th century to name this island’s capital,
Reykjavik, (the Icelandic translation literally meaning ’Smoky Bay’). You really do feel like you’re getting close to the edge of the world.
... Whether or not the Sagas also describe the eggy
smell that lingers in the air I don’t know but it’s something I imagine hit them in the back of the throat in the 9th century as it did to me in the 21st!... Do not underestimate the stench of geothermically heated water. Yes, I can’t deny a hot soak after eight hours driving
in a monster 4x4 truck across the ice fields was an irresistible temptation… however there’s something peculiar about washing under water that, if you had your eyes closed, could actually be second hand loo H2o!!...
But Reykjavik, what a place! It’s surely the tiniest, least populated capital city I’ve encountered. An unusual mix of concrete buildings in its more modern areas to paper-like corrugated iron and clapboard houses with delicate lace fretwork in the city centre. The locals have painted their homes in attractive colours and proudly display various family possessions on their window sills that look out to more colourful streets or the small central square. It’s quaint. It’s precious. But it’s also like a film set. Where are all the people?... Having asked myself a similar question when driving through Houston, Texas one summer I wondered (if in this case because of the cold as opposed to the extreme heat) if they were all underground?!...
Well, it took us until 2am to find out. As we stumbled back up the hill in the early hours, we made our way up a street amusingly called (and
labelled on banners overhead in case it wasn’t obvious enough) “Main Shopping Street”. There we were alarmed to find the Icelandic youth pouring out of the paper houses and joining the flock heading into the bars. Nope. Icelanders aren’t moles. They’re bats! Totally nocturnal, they don’t even have a word for ‘good morning’. But oh how they know how to party. On our first evening we found ourselves in a rickety old bar with a fantastic live band and an audience in full fancy dress, complete with an in-house face painter. And it wasn’t even a special occasion. A totally great vibe and lots of old musical classics as well as some unfamiliar Scandinavian tunes.
Oh and the teeny weeny little hot dog stand outside in the snow is locally renound as where President Clinton once ate a hot dog from and its location couldn’t be better after a night making shapes on the dance floor!
We were sadly only in Iceland for a few days, but what fun filled days they were. Between fits of laughter and pints of Viking beer, we went and saw colossal mountain waterfalls, watched as geysers exploded out of
The Blue Mountains
Reflected in a still lake the earth’s core to high above us in five minute intervals, ate the tastiest meat soup (lamb) I can remember, gazed down into the gorge that is the actual separation between the two tectonic plates that Iceland sits above (don’t ask me to remember which ones) and floated peacefully in the magical turquoise water of the Blue Lagoon.
Wow
that was sensational by the way. I tend to be sceptical of ‘hot pools’ when you’re told as a foreign visitor to go and see one… I always envisage an overcrowded pond full of tourists and screaming babies. How wrong I was to be doubtful. The Blue Lagoon is (I’m going to use the word again) geothermically heated pool of water with minerals that give it its sapphire colour. The lagoon sits buried below a 360° view of ivory mountains and the heat from the water causes steam to rise above it like a gigantic mug of blue soup. It’s absolutely gorgeous. A silent, mysterious place that I could have floated in forever (had my fingers and toes not shrivelled up like prunes)…
I can’t however say I enjoyed the
steam Beautiful chimney
As the water is sucked back down the geyser hole, the steam is left behind and joins the thousands of other natural chimneys across the whole of Iceland room quite so much though- by 'steam room', I mean turf-covered igloo hut with a wooden interior and clouds of vapour coming through the floor boards that almost singe your toes. Where I was sitting it also smelt just like I was sat the inside bowl of a public toilet. Before a dropped a single bead of sweat I gagged and had to leave. I don’t care how marvellous it was for my skin- that kind of smell is one I have zero tolerance for.
Overall a seriously fun trip and whether it was the fresh air, the eggy showers, or that tasty meat soup... something had me in giggles for most of our journey and my muscles ached from laughter for a good few days after I got home.
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Alexandra
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Que bien!!
Hola Sara! gracias por compartir estas hermosas fotografías con nosotros, que maravilla, que viaje tan espectacular!!...no dejes de contarnos de tu vida ok?...y a donde iras ahora de viaje esta vez??? Un abrazo Alexandra y Patricio