Iceland, 2011 | |
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The tiny island nation of Iceland made headlines in 2008 when it effectively went bankrupt. You see, the Icelandic economy went from over a thousand years of nothing but fishing to five years of investment banking, and in October of 2008, back to fishing. As you can imagine, that last transition was a bit painful for Icelanders, having racked up debt equivalent to about 850% of GDP from their fleeting foray into high finance. Their only hope for restoring the economy was to boost tourism. Iceland Air came up with attractive deals that bundled their trans-Atlantic flights with a free sojourn in Reykjavik. And just when faint glimmers of hope were starting to appear, the unpronounceable Eyjafjallajoekull volcano decided to blow off a little steam in early 2010, disrupting air travel for weeks and planting great seeds of doubt in the minds of any would-be tourists. I have long wanted to visit the country ever since reading Eric Weiner's account of Iceland as a leading example of a happy nation. It turns out the country had been on my friend Honza's radar for quite some time as well, so the two of us decided to do our part to help prop up their flailing economy. After all, Iceland's global image was not good. When I told David M. I was headed to Iceland, his reaction was: “what's that? You're going to buy Iceland?” 
If short on time, or just don't feel like reading this travelog, check out these photo highlights instead. ReykjavikIt was my first time flying Iceland Air, and I must say the airline has added some fine touches to their Airbus fleet. The economy seat in front of you comes equipped with an adjustable foot rest as well as a USB port for charging mobile devices. The middle seat even has an adjustable armrest that widens to give those seated in the isle and window more room when there isn't a passenger in-between, which is probably often the case. Despite these perks, the airline has compromised on other necessities that make transatlantic flights slightly more bearable, namely, a meal and free alcohol. My flight into Reykjavik was due to land at 06:20, just before sunrise. The first thing that struck me about the landscape on approach was the utter dearth of trees. I didn't spot a single one until we reached the outer suburbs of Reykjavik, and needless to say those so-called trees were not indigenous to the island. Honza was due to arrive from D.C. around the same time, so we had agreed to meet in the arrivals area and take the Flybus together to the hotel. We found each other easily enough, but almost immediately, Honza struck me with a piece of extraordinary news. In a strange and colossal coincidence he had run into two old friends and former coworkers of ours in Washington Dulles whom we hadn't seen in years. Against astronomical odds, they were bound to Reykjavik on the exact same flight. They were in a rush to make it to a bike tour of the capital, so we didn't have time for a proper reunion, but we agreed to meet up later in the day. For some inexplicable reason, Reykjavik's international airport is not actually in Reykjavik but in Keflavik. Don't let the rhyme fool you — the two are a full 45km apart. And the only barely affordable way to make it to the capital is to buy a roundtrip bus ticket with the monopolistic Flybus, a journey that will set you back ISK 5,000. They run a rather strange relay system. The main airport bus will drop you and your bags off at a bus terminal where you then have to take a shuttle your hotel. 
Having arrived fairly early, we had a full day to explore the capital. I kind of wished Honza and I had booked a bike tour too, but it turns out the city is really not all that big to explore on foot. Every point of interest on our tourist map was within walking distance. So, after picking up a quick breakfast snack to placate our stomachs temporarily (remember Iceland Air does not feed its passengers) we headed east from our hotel to the far most point of interest -- the botanical garden. What could one expect from a botanical garden on an island with a frigid sounding name like Iceland? Well, not much, so we were very pleasantly surprised by the extent and diversity of its flora. From here our walk continued north towards the bay, or vik in Icelandic, which, of course, is what the suffix in Reykjavik refers to. Along the way we passed a multitude of houses with trampolines in the yard. We would find these accessories in the yards of houses in many townships throughout the country, which makes one wonder if trampolining is not some kind of national pastime here. Perhaps it was not the season for it, but we never actually saw anyone, be that child or adult, ever actually use it. Of course, it is also possible the trampoline is just a remnant of the buoyant times of Icelandic investment banking. 
Reykjavik is very walkable, but by the time we reached the bay, my feet were killing me. In an attempt to pack as lightly as possible, I had foolishly not brought any walking shoes, and the hiking boots I was wearing were not well suited for pavement. So, we headed up to Laugavegur Street, Reykjavik's Champs-Elysees and chief shopping district. There was no shortage of outfitters here, but the prices of shoes, just like everything else in the country, were jaw-dropping. Even with the 20% discount, the Scarpas I bought were the most expensive shoes I have ever owned. 
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Having plunked down enough money to feed a starving African village for a year, I was eager for us to find a restaurant with less exorbitant prices for lunch. We settled on a pizzeria off Laugavegur and each ordered a lobster leek pizza, two toppings one never encounters on pizza, probably for a good reason. Nevertheless, the buttery goodness satisfied our stomachs and kept the bank solvent. We had left a note for our friends at their hotel to meet us at 16:00 in front of “the big church” — Hallgrimskirkja. Situated on top of Reykjavik's tallest hill and standing 74m (244 ft) closer to Heaven than the immaculate lawn around it, Hallgrimskirkja is visible from pretty much every part of town, making it a very convenient meeting point. Our friends didn't show, but we did have some interesting encounters with other friendly and not so friendly faces. En route to the church, we were nearly stampeded by what we at first thought were circus performers on LSD or perhaps patients just escaped from the local insane asylum wearing Halloween costumes. In fact we were witnessing a good old fashioned Reykjavik treasure hunt. 
 
We eventually discovered that part of the participants' challenge was to take photos of their team at various landmarks around the capital, in all sorts of inexplicable poses. 
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Our friends didn't show, evidently because they never got our message. This little rendezvous attempt made us realize just how hard life was before the age of the cell phone. Exhausted and jet-lagged, Honza and I headed back to the Hotel Radisson, which was reasonably comfortable and well-kept. The only complaint, though really more of a complaint of all hotels in Iceland, is that the hot water stunk of sulphur. The cold water from the tap was odorless and tasted like pure spring water, but any mix of hot and cold made one wrinkle one's nose in disgust. The Golden TriangleHonza and I had booked the 7-day self-drive tour from IcelandTotal.com that entitled us to a car rental and guide book with a detailed itinerary to help us navigate this unknown land. The itinerary the company had left for us at the hotel, however, was NOT the one we had booked, which prompted a series of awkward (and expensive) calls on Honza's cell phone with IcelandTotal's emergency hotline, which happened to be monitored by some poor old lady who, like most people, seemed to enjoy sleeping in on Saturday mornings and did not appreciate being awakened to deal with disgruntled tourists. Nevertheless, what had to be done had to be done, and we managed to get her to email the hotel a copy of the correct itinerary. First on the list was picking up our rental car from Hertz, which turned out to be a tiny VW Polo sans A/C., not that that would be a problem. Anything over 69 Fahrenheit is a heat wave in Iceland, so if you get hot while driving, you just roll down your window, the old fashioned way. For those who can only afford a short visit to Iceland, three landmarks are advertised as must-see: Gullfoss, Geysir and Þingvellir, which combined define the Golden Triangle. The guide promised us all three and then some, all in one day. 
The first stop was Þingvellir. A “Þ” in Icelandic is pronounced “th”, which did not sit well with Honza. “They can call it ‘Thingvellir’ if they want, but I shall call it ‘Pingvellir,’ and that's that,” he said. Þingvellir lies 50km north east of Reykjavik and served as the site for Iceland's first parliament, formed in 930 (no, not 1930, 930!). Today it is a UNESCO world heritage site and the area around it is a national park. It is here that one can easily see the great continental rift, where the North American and European plates drift away from one another at the great geological pace of 7mm a year, slowly adding valuable real estate to the small country. 
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The continental divide is blatantly conspicuous, and it's fun to hop between North America and Europe along the convenient boardwalk. There is also a nice waterfall flowing out of the American side and into a large pool on the European side that was sadly used as a drowning tool for unfortunate adulteresses as recently as 1838. Next up was the famous and surprisingly regular geyser, creatively named: Geysir. The high frequency of eruptions was a good thing because this area was particularly cold and windy, and waiting for a show too long would not have been fun. Those tourists willing to pay a little extra could witness the eruptions overhead in the warm but noisy comforts of a helicopter. 
Not far from Geysir, along the golden triangle lies Iceland's Niagara Falls — Gullfoss. It is a massive waterfall that is oriented at an extremely awkward angle that looks plain wrong. It is about as natural as ocean waves hitting the beach at a 45 degree angle. From Gulfoss we continued south along the ring road and quickly experienced our first traffic jam on the great highway. Rush hour, you think? Accident? No, the sheep were simply coming home. A great big flock of them, guided by horse mounted farmers with no compunction for the long line of five cars behind them that were held up for a good twenty minutes. The holdup did give Honza an opportunity to walk outside, stretch his legs, and try to feed the horses, who seemed to be remarkably picky with their grasses. 
Once the jam uncorked we continued along towards Vik, where the guide had us spend the second night. Not far from Vik is another famous waterfall — Seljalandsfoss. This one was to Gulfoss like tap is to a firehose, making it much more palatable. It also featured numerous rainbows and a ledge to explore it from behind, which comes highly recommended. See below for a stitched vertical panorama. For a sense of scale, note the bridge and farmhouse in the distance. Seljalandsfoss may be way smaller than Gulfoss, but it is huge nonetheless. 
The waterfall is also very close to the Eyjafjallajokull volcano that caused insurmountable difficulties for news reporters trying to pronounce it correctly while covering the 2010 eruption. When I asked Honza: “hey, is that Eyjafjallajokull?” his response was: "I'm sorry, were you trying to clear your throat?” 
By early dusk we had arrived at Vik, checked into our hotel and had just enough time to catch the spectacular sunset over the otherworldly rock formations for which the tiny village is famous. 
 
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Part 2 » (The Rest of Iceland) | |
