Reykjavik

Upon arrival, the first stop was retrieving a rental car. The greeter was late which caused a little anxiety. When he finally appeared he piled several arrivals into a van and off we drove toff the airport to the rental agency. Our vehicle of choice was to be a Fiat 500. Given Francis Italian heritage and my inclination to rent the smallest vehicle available, it was the perfect option.

We had to wait for our turn with staff. Next door to the car rental agency was a camper rental. Ingeniously packed into a tiny four-wheel drive vehicle was complete camping setup. Opening the rear hatch, you found a series of drawers containing a stove and all the gear you might need for rural explorations. The seats would fold down to permit rolling out the provided mattress and linens at night. When it was our

turn at the car rental, there was a brief but intense attempt to up-sell us for a larger vehicle and more comprehensive insurance. As we had no plans to venture off-roading or to the hinterlands, where were warned sandstorms would damage the vehicle, we said nope. If that was our plan, we should have gone next door in the first place.

Finally departing the airport vicinity, the first impression, the most notable thing is the color gray: light gray seas, dark gray basaltic stone, bluish but still gray sky. There are white capped gray mountains and gray concrete buildings in the distance. It is a harsh monochrome landscape just occasionally broken by scrub pines and the bright shock of yellow dandelions. The noxious weed of rolling lawns is a visual delight here. The occasional spray of dandelions has the effect of hillsides of Forsythia in early Spring bloom in the mid-atlantic states. Oh yeah, hardy folks colonized this place, you would need to be a Viking!

The second impression is that you will need a Viking interpreter. Reading the street signs, there are enough strange looking symbols that you know you won't say the word intelligibly. How does one pronounce a letter which looks like a stone hammer or a backwards P with extra serifs? Hardy folks with a lilting language. We could read the directions towards Reykjavik. The issue began when we arrived in town. All of the residents we stopped for advice spoke English but none of them had any idea where the indicated address was located. The B & B owner's advice that it was easy to find right down from the Church, turned out to be rather ineffective as there are three churches! The most notable structure being a huge towering gray granite edifice surmounting a hill. 


We made a quick sweep of the other liturgical options and opted for making broader and broader gyres around the large granite monument. Finally we spied the name of the B & B owner on a door! It was clearly their private entrance but the general entrance had to be nearby!

A few feet away was the public entrance, too discreetly marked to be visible from a car driving by. Oh well, better late than never. With great relief we found the key-code and entered an old fashioned boot room. Shelves were provided for one's outdoor shoes and slippers available for interior wear. Other shelves had an interesting assortment of books. Subjects ranged from self-help to the classics, in both English and Icelandic. Adjacent living room had more shelves filled with art and classical literature and a small study alongside was similarly lined. It was no surprise when we discovered the proprietor had been the Headmaster of a well-known British Public School. His Wife was Icelandic, Daughter of a traditional fisherman. The family had come to Iceland during his Sabbetical year and decided to stay, opening the B n B. They had thoughtfully provided us with a large cozy room on the ground floor. Just off the main living room, we had a nice view onto the street.

I immediately wanted to explore the town. It was Sunday and I was warned shops would close early. Off I wandered, getting good and lost on foot this time. Eventually having established my bearings I realized we were just a few blocks from the main streets of Reykjavik. A city of low scale buildings, many with bright gardens and creative wall decor. Managing to find a food store open I purchased some local specialties, breads and yogurt the likes of which I'd never seen and an unusual ready to heat casserole for Francis. 

The Icelandic climate is not suited to growing wheat, but rye, oats and various seeds thrived. Viking breads were similar to Scandinavian rye toasts but often made without any wheat. The crucnchy cracker like bread would be rolled and baked in circles with a hole in the center. The rings would hang suspended from cottage rafters. More unique were steamed rye loaf breads, cooked in the fumeroles and hot springs which abound due to the techtonic plates. The rye slowly caramelizes into a sweet pudding like texture. [At some point I shall try replicating the effect in a crock pot.] Skyr is a kind of yogurt, naturally non-fat, mild and sweet. Recently I have seen it in our US grocery store. On rye and skyr with a side salad, I could happily survive.

Aside from the usual tacky tourist souvenirs, Iceland is renowned for its sheep and wool. Beautiful Icelandic woolens lined the shops downtown, competing with hiking and camping gear. My souvenir would be a few balls of yarn. The stark dark grey basalt, topped by pale grey glaciers, was immediate inspiration to knit Francis a cap. Large blocks of knitted stitches giving was to smaller and smaller formations, just as the basalt mountains degrade down into the sea. The cap's apex in pale grey wool, like the angular glaciers sloping the peaks.

We spent most of our days in Reykyjavik exploring the museums, learning about the past and present cultures. The Maritime Museum was high on the hit list. This one featured fishing, with an emphasis on how fishing formed the Icelandic ethos of dedication and cooperation. For thousands of years, most of the population had been subsistence farmers and fishermen. During the Winter the farmers went to the shore to fish, during the Summer the fishermen went to the farms to labor. On both farms and fishing boats small group worked intensely and collaboratively. During the twentieth century a conflict developed between the newly independent country or Iceland a Britain over fishing rights. After a bitter turf war, Iceland prevailed controlling the fleets in its local waters. The conflict further intensified the collective identity of Icelanders as self-sufficient socialists.

Next door to the Maritime Museum was a most interesting tourist trap. Nominally, a museum of Viking History is was more a wax work of Viking atrocities. Walking through a dimly lit labyrinth, there were tableus of dramatic events in Viking history. These events were primarily on the order of: Eric the toothless seizes power from his uncle Eric the noseless by removing the rest of his uncle's head. Think of Madame Tussaud does Grand Guignol. While the waxworks were probably historically accurate, a more well rounded impression of that era was presented at an Icelandic history museum housed by the University. There the highlight, albeit also presented in low light, was an actual Viking roundhouse. The ruins found in an archaeological excavation were laid out in situ along with cutting edge computer recreations of the full facility and explanations of the use and function of recovered objects. Once again the importance of fishing, mutual support and cooperation was evident. A day at the art museum revealed not only beautiful traditional handcrafts but also interesting modern works exploring the concepts of time and land use. Photos and CAD depicted human effects and potential change. By the shoreline in downtown Reykyjavik is the fascinating and dominating Opera house, literally and figuratively it represents the Icelandic landscape. An angular wall of mirrored honeycomb effect rising up from the harbor, reflecting the rock and water,. It is conveniently accessible to all and features performances of every genre. Even in the fine arts, the cooperative influences are present.

A culture coming from a most violent past to a peaceful present. Even during the most tumultuous times the Viking met annually to work out their issues and grievances. Beginning in 930AD they met in a natural amphitheater former by the rift boundaries of two tectonic plates. The new land formed as the American and Eurasian plates move away from each other. A low marshy plain in a ravine, waters fed by warm underground streams. Called Thingviller, it is dramatic and beautiful. This was my prime incentive in going to Iceland, to stand between the plates on the newest exposed land on the earth.

We took a long drive out of Reykjavik to Thingviller, past isolated industry and villages. The road weaved past small farms with herds of shaggy sheep and equally shaggy icelandic ponies. It was not until we reached Thingviller that we realized we had been driving along the cliff edge of the American plate for miles. Looking across the sunken plateau we could see the Euroasian plate in the far distance, with a broad marsh, crossed by streams, dotted by little lakes and featuring the largest lake in Iceland, all with mossy islands surfacing through the water.

The annual meeting was called the Althing and was led by a Lawspeaker. The Lawspeaker was elected for three year terms and was expected to recite the entire cycle of law from memory over the course of his term! He presided from a natural platform called the Law Rock. While the exact spot of the Law Rock was not recorded the general location is identifiable from the terrain. From 930 to 1798, laws were made and disputes settled by consensus. During the Viking era, prior to 1300, if the dispute could not be settled peaceably, the combatants moved off to one of the little islands and duked it out, often a fight to the death. Just another example of the cooperative yet pragmatic Icelandic culture.

We had a wonderful introduction to a unique place and culture but it was soon time to get back to the US. Even our car rental return revealed Icelander's determination. We stopped at what appealed to be an public area along the shore. The day was cold, rain and sleet was falling. Looking out over the grey skies and seas, I figured out the sign on the building. It was a golf club! Looking farther out across the plain adjacent to the shore, we realized there were people out playing golf, dressed in slickers they were hauling their bags of clubs across the wet ground despite the downpour. Now that is hardy dedication! There was more to explore in Iceland. We never got as far as the extinct volcanoes or inside a glacier. A return trip is definitely required.