A cappuccino at Mokka Café - one of the oldest coffee shops in Reykjavik, maintaining most of its 1950s decor. Of all the coffee I tried, this was my favorite cup.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Sunday was spent very much in the same way that Saturday was spent. No agenda really, just a nice walk through Reykjavik. I did, however, have one stop I needed to make. The Kolaportið market was the best place in town to taste Hákarl, which is a traditional delicacy. Yep. Fermented shark. It wasn't exactly that I wanted to do this, but every travel book and/or show I had read/seen featured someone taking a stab at it.
With a bitter ammonia after-taste, it probably is one of the worst things I've ever eaten. Gummy and rotten. I had one piece, took a break, gave it another shot and was done. The reason for the second try? I thought it might get better. Not true.
Photo taken on 3.13.11.
After the last post, I received the email below from my dad about the Aurora. His words made me smile, so I wanted to share it:
Al - Love the photos and the story. As you know, I saw it with Muz and the Captain. We were at Muz's camp in northern Minnesota in September a few years ago. September in Minnesota is like early December in Pittsburgh. No leaves, cold and a constant threat of snow. There was no running water at the cabin, so we took a sauna to sweat out the day of hunting grouse. When we exited the sauna, with only towels around our waists, we relit the cigars that had been waiting by the entrance of the sauna. (Guys in the woods always seem to have cigars, but it would have been wrong somehow to sauna with them). Heading toward the cabin, Muz pointed out what seemed to be yellow white search lights getting brighter over the horizon and said that when the Aurora started like a search light, it would generally be a good show. We stooped and noticed that the search lights had begun to appear over every edge of the Earth. They rose directly overhead and met in a Yin Yang vortex that swirled and danced, radiating blues, ambers and greens. Without saying a word to one another, we simultaneously laid our towels on the ground so we could take in the full effect.The show went on for what seemed to be an hour. In spite of being wet, nude and lying on the ground in 30 degree weather, none of us felt the cold and spent the night in front of the fire describing and re-describing what we had been lucky enough to see. I am glad you had the chance to see it. Although I agree that seeing the Aurora with someone, with a friend or a lover, is special, I believe that it is both a personal and a communal experience. Even though you saw it alone, you share the experience with the relative few who have had the pleasure. In a way, we share something just as much as if we had seen it at the same time. Welcome to the club.
Love, Dad
Kids, that email is exactly what I meant when I said "cares about the universe," whether you are a girl with a camera in a car in Iceland or a dude with a cigar out in the woods of Minnesota with his buddies. Just making the best of wherever you happen to be. Even if it is cold and windy.
Life is good and the universe is cool, right Jharv?
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
After days of freezing my butt off by the harbor, I finally caught up with Ms. Aurora Borealis about 20 miles outside of Reykjavik. You know how I knew it was going to be a successful venture that Saturday night? Not only had I seen faint wisps of green above the city, but... "We Weren't Born To Follow" came on the radio right before the drive began. What the heck are the chances? I just laughed and shook my head. I can't believe I'm going to say this, but in the past year, all good things have started with Bon Jovi.
Like all things otherworldly, photos, particularly my rookie photos, do not do this phenomenon justice. At all.
For those of you I hadn't spoken to previously about this impromptu trip to Iceland, the Aurora was the entire reason I came. While I adore New York, sometimes it can just get to be too much. Too many people, too many buildings, too much... everything.
In order to make your relationship with this city successful, you need to know when to leave. You need to know when to take some time on your own to decompress. You also need to know when to come back.
And this trip? This trip was the result of having a great day on Expedia and wanting to cross something off my bucket list.
But you know what? The funny thing about having the Aurora at the top of your bucket list is that you end up not wanting to cross it off. It is the most incredible thing that I have ever seen. It takes a lot to impress me, but I just sat there, on the ground, in 6° weather, in complete awe. I believe I was talking to myself as well. But who cares? Who was there to hear me? Sure, there was another couple who had pulled over to watch the light dance, but they were doing the same thing I was.
If I saw the Aurora everyday for the rest of my life, it would still never bore me. You would not believe how it moves, how it's there and then it's not... then you drive a mile down the road and it's there again and more brilliant than it was before. You could see an entire night of the Aurora or you could see nothing... like I had for days. The many freezing hours you don't see it are worth the few extraordinary moments that you do.
And when you see it? You could care less that you are chilled to the bone.
The next time Ms. Aurora and I come into contact? No cameras. No tripods. This is something I want to see again with someone. Someone who cares as much about the universe as I do. Someone who wants to lay on the snow-covered ground and just look at the art the sky is painting for you - not saying a word, until you get back into the car to start the chase again.
To see it with a friend, to see it with a lover, just to see it with someone who cares about what is in front of their face. To look at him, to look at the sky, to have him look at you, to look back at him and have the two most beautiful things in the universe in front of you. Now that, that would be perfection.
Photo taken on 3.12.11.
Probably the worst meal I had in Reykjavik, aside from the whale burger. The whale burger was so chewy and terrible that it doesn't even get a photo. However, there is a story that goes with it, but before I get to that, here's what's on the table at Potturinn og Pannan:
Grilled lamb (medium-rare) dressed with béarnaise sauce with orange bell peppers, carmelized onions, arugula and baked potato.
Now, allow me to precede the whale burger incident with the note that Iceland is NOT by any means a tipping culture. In my humble opinion, that means you often find lackadaisical servers unwilling to be (sometimes) pleasant or prompt. You will just sit at a table until a server decides he/she feels like coming to take your order. This drives me absolutely bananas.
So anyway, this burger came with very mushy french fries and the server forgot to bring the ketchup. These fries needed something, anything really, to redeem them. So I asked for ketchup and to my delight (10 minutes later) she brought over Heinz ketchup.
I pour some on my plate, dunk a fry, place in mouth. That was absolutely not Heinz ketchup. I mean, most Americans know the difference, but a Pittsburgh girl knows the difference by heart!
It just simply wasn't going to do. So, my french fry back-up condiment is honey.
I ask if they have honey. The waitress nods and comes back, looking a little perplexed, with a little bowl of honey, sets it curiously on the table and walks away.
When she comes back to collect the dishes, she says:
Were you eating fries with honey? (Gives me the eyebrow)
Yes
Why?
Because it's a little bit of sweet with the saltiness of the fries. (Didn't even mention the ketchup, isn't everybody proud?)
You are so awkward. So very, very awkward.
I've been called a lot of things in my time, but never awkward. Never even expected to ever be called awkward - by waitstaff, no less.
Haha, I mean, it's actually pretty comical. Can you just see my face? I didn't even say anything to her. I couldn't say anything to her. I was too shocked.
Needless to say, I'm a big fan of tipping societies. If you've done your job well, you get more, if you've done your job poorly, you get less. If you've taken 20 minutes to take an order, tried to pass off inedible ketchup for Heinz and insulted the patron, you get nothing. But don't worry, this waitress was already well compensated for her behavior in her pay check.
On a closing note: Hooooray capitalism!
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Whilst you are a guest in someone else's country, you try your best to experience life as a local.
In this episode of "Be a Local," that means standing buck naked with 15 Icelanders in the shower area before entering one of Reykjavik's coolest geothermal pools.
What makes it cool, you may ask? Not only are all these pools heated by dear old Mama Earth, but this one in particular, Sundhöllin, was built in 1937 and has remained the same since. The showers, the changing rooms and the pools themselves all original.
Not only was it difficult to get a camera into one of these joints, but I almost changed my mind about the actual swimming part for a number of reasons. First of all, the older Icelandic woman at the front desk and I had some trouble communicating. It's never a good start to a foreign activity, but it eventually was straightened out. Camera in, camera out, Alli in, Alli out - was the plan.
After I nervously shot around the pool for a while, not sure if I was breaking any rules or not, I took the camera back to the lady at the front desk and proceeded to head down to my locker in the changing room.
It is a requirement at all of these geothermal pools that you shower in open public stalls, sans bathing suit, prior to entering the pool. In terms of hygiene, I absolutely applaud this, but on a personal level, I wasn't so sure.
Now, I have no problem with nudity. The human body is beautiful, but when you are in a setting where it is publicly practiced, it no longer is like the elegant art shoot you did with one photographer in New York. It's just something that everyone does, which you'd think would make it easier. I actually found myself staring into my locker, debating whether or not a dip in a geothermal pool and hot pot was worth a nude public shower. In the end, I was there, I had paid my 450 ISK and I was going to do this.
After about ten minutes of marinating, I stripped down, grabbed my bathing suit and walked to the showers.
And guess what? I am so glad I did it. After I was in the shower, I could care less that I was bare and was pretty excited to get into the hot pot to discuss various philosophies with some Icelanders. Hey, that's what all the books told me they did... and guess what? It's true!
It also dawned on me, while in the hot pot, that I would not be able to communicate, at least with words, with a 5-year-old Icelandic child.
On that note, time to drive to Dallas!
Photo taken on 3.12.11.
Monday, March 21, 2011
After I licked every bit of rye bread ice cream out of that little bowl, I made my way back over to Hallgrímskirkja. This time not really to explore its history, but to climb to the top of the bell tower to check out Reykjavik above the icy streets and sidewalks.
Gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. Chilly, but gorgeous.
It appears that I, again, do not have to time delve into religion, as brief as it may be, so if you are indeed interested, I'm sure Google can assist. When I see you, we can discuss.
Photos taken on 3.12.11.
Before I tell you about religion in Iceland (I know you just can't wait!), let's chat about my deeeelicious lunch at Cafe Loki, located right across from Hallgrímskirkja.
Here's what's on the table:
Drink: Loki Tea - a blend of Icelandic birch, Icelandic moss and arctic thyme.
Soup: Icelandic meat soup - Lamb broth with vegetables and lamb cubes.
Bread: Rye bread with lamb paté
Dessert: Rye bread ice cream with whipped cream and caramel sauce.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Hallgrímskirkja (church of Hallgrimur) took 41 years to build. Commissioned in 1937, construction began in 1945 and was completed in 1986.
And guess what?! It's a Lutheran church! probably the fanciest Lutheran church I've ever seen.
When I have more time, I will give you a briefing on the history of religion in Iceland. Haha, it is indeed pretty brief, but quite fascinating.
Photos taken on 3.12.11.
What I've learned about traveling and taking photos of your food is that it is never advantageous to eat the cool/weird/illegal in other countries things for dinner. No, not because a night of indigestion is never pleasant, but because the ambient lighting is always terrible for photography.
Regardless, here's what's on my table at Islenski Barinn:
Far left jar: lightly seared minke whale* with rosemary, nut crumble and soy glaze atop a mound of potato purée.
Far right jar: smoked lamb tartar with melon, drizzled with lemon oil.
Top jar: smoked puffin with rye bread crumble, blueberry compote and horseradish.
After this delightful meal, I met my new German friend, Frank for a few Icelandic beers over at the Paris Cafe. Frank and I met in our hotel lobby and became quick friends from there, bonding over my many years of Business German courses in college and a shared interest in solar activity. He also was traveling solo and was in Iceland competing in an international chess tournament! How cool is that?!
After a few rounds of Egils, we wandered back to the hotel, passing girl after girl in short skirts and heels. Do these people not realize the temperature doesn't EVER breach the mid-sixties in Iceland?! That kind of a skirt is NEVER weather appropriate.
Perhaps their bloodlines have been mixed with bears somewhere along the way.
Silly girls in New York, of course, do this as well. This wear-your-summer-dress-in-the-dead-of-winter thing, weekend to weekend, should have been quickly left in the winter of your sophomore year of college. BUT in their defense, at least the sidewalks are mandatorily salted and cleared... unlike Reykjavik.
If I were a dude, I would just think that girl was too dumb for words...
Ohhhh, I get it.
*You read correctly. Whale. Iceland is still a whaling society and thus, many establishments serve whale. As a traditionally Icelandic dish, it was a must try. It was tasty, kind of a cross between yellowfin tuna and a nice cut of beef, but not something I would go to the market to purchase regularly.
I got into it a few years back with one of my dive buddies in the Philippines about shark fin soup and I'm not looking for that kind of an adverse reaction again. To this day, I've never had shark fin soup.
Photo taken on 3.11.11.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Of all the things I did in Iceland, I can confidently say that this was by far the coldest activity.
The above photos were taken at the Blue Lagoon, one of Iceland's biggest tourist attractions, as well as one of the world's most acclaimed spas. I had planned on spending most of Friday at the Blue Lagoon, having made an appointment for a 2-hour in-water algae treatment and massage. Since Thursday was filled with diving and hiking about waterfalls and geysers, I was very much looking forward to soaking in this natural geothermal hotspot, getting that massage and coating my sun-deprived face with the Blue Lagoon's famous silica mask.
My massage/treatment was at 10:30 a.m. on a cloudy morning with temperatures at about 20°. And again.... the wind...
"It's ok, the water will be hot," I thought as I disrobed and climbed into the lagoon's massage area to meet my masseuse, who I noticed was decked out in fleece from head to toe.
I was in my new dark green bikini. Quite a difference in attire.
He asked me to slide up on a 6-foot wooden planked massage table that hovered on the water to begin the salt scrub.
I just looked at him.
"It will be ok. This is the coldest part," he said.
I looked at him, as the wind kicked up enough to blow my two French-braided pigtails behind my back. So, I climbed on the table, face-down. He wet a heavy fleece blanket and laid it over me, removing a part of the blanket as he scrubbed. Same thing, face-up.
While the scrubbing felt awesome, I couldn't get over how cold I was. Yes, there was a blanket over me, but those blankets cool down, you know. And when they do, the masseuse would dip it back into the water and lay it back over me, which means the blanket had to be removed from my barely clothed, wet body. Again, I say, the wind...
Next came the algae treatment. Spreading the algae all over me, he had me wiggle into a giant plastic bag. When I was fully coated, he tied off the bag, put an inflatable pillow around my neck and and slid me onto a little raft. He then proceeded to massage my head and face, rubbing conditioner into my hair.
All of this was considerably warmer, but the best part of the treatment was when he slid the mat out from under me and placed what I can only describe as a noodle, under my knees. This, was a very cool feeling. Supported by only the inflatable neck pillow and the noodle at your knees, you (inside your plastic algae bag covered with thermal blankets) just float around the warm lagoon for about 30 minutes. I'd say it's pretty impossible not to doze off.
Post-floating, I shimmied out of my algae bag and he slid me back onto the little raft to commence what I was most looking forward to after yesterday's hiking and a subzero scuba trip - the 50-minute massage.
It wasn't the best massage of my life, but it was comical to assess what actually was happening at that very moment. Here I was, in Iceland, floating around some geothermal lagoon with a strange Icelandic man massaging my right butt-cheek and thigh. What was the rest of the world doing??
Ahhh, life is good.
When the massage ended, I was free to roam around, exploring the lagoon and its steam baths and saunas, masking my face with endless silica treatments.
Aside from freezing my tush off in the beginning, my only real complaint is that the property wasn't as photogenic as I had anticipated, but that's all ok. After having seen this place in travel magazines, on travel shows and on subway ads for years, I can now cross a visit to the Blue Lagoon off my bucket list.
Photos taken on 3.11.11.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Gullfoss, perhaps the most famous waterfall in Iceland.
It is said that Sigríður Tómasdóttir, the daughter of Tómas Tómasson who owned the waterfall in the first half of the 20th century, is to be credited with preventing private investors from building a hydroelectric plant at Gullfoss.
To prevent them from doing this, not only did Sigríður threaten to throw herself into the falls, but she walked barefoot from Gullfoss to Reykjavik in protest of this proposition. By the time she arrived in Reykjavik, the 75 miles of unpaved roads had torn up her feet.
She had made her point and thus, the plant was never built.
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