We decided to take a trip to Iceland. It was sort of an unexpected spontaneous trip for Christmas. We were trying to find a Christmassy place to go, and my wife was looking at places like Finland, Norway, Canada, and New York. But those places book up well in advance or are way too crowded, so we had to find an alternative plan. We didn’t really have Iceland on our bucket list of places to see, but we were watching a Hallmark movie one night where they go on a quest to Iceland to find the treasure of the Yule Lads. I casually turned to my wife and said, “What about Iceland.” And that’s how it began. I did research and found out that they had a lot of Christmas markets and holiday celebrations, so we pivoted and threw the trip together in a matter of days.
I’m really glad that it worked out, because I’ve been growing out an ace Viking beard for months now. And it would have been a huge waste if we’d gone to someplace like New York or Canada, where they don’t appreciate such displays of facial expression.
UPDATE: I’m very disappointed. The majority of men in Iceland are clean-shaven, and those that aren’t, are tourists like me. Oh well. I still feel connected to the past, even if they don’t. Plus, it’s keeping my face warm in the frigid wind.
Anyway, our trip started off with an immediate hitch. The car service that we hired to take us to the airport brought a car that was too small. We opted not to wait for them to go get a bigger car and make us late to the airport, so we had to drive ourselves. Which wouldn’t be such a big deal if we weren’t returning to a completely different airport! Oh well, go with the flow, right?
The airport check-in experience wasn’t too bad, except we weren’t able to get seats together on the plane. Oh well, go with the flow, right? Security wasn’t too bad, and we arrived with plenty of time to have a bite to eat before we boarded.
Troy and my wife sat next to a nice man that chatted to them about England and academia. While I sat next to a fascinating old woman, who told me all about her life in England (growing up in Newcastle), Canada (how beautiful Vancouver is), and the United States (residing in Dallas, but missing the cold). She was a former English teacher, well-educated and well-spoken, on her way to spend Christmas with her younger sister. She liked to cross country ski, play the piano, read, and watch movies. And we swapped stories about all kinds of things.
The second hitch we encountered was when Troy and I were going through immigration. My wife went through the EU Only line and zoomed through in two seconds. Troy and I got in a line that closed just as we got to the front. Then, we moved to another line where the woman in front of us had some sort of issue and ended up taking forever. Both of the other two lines processed ten or fifteen people in the time that it took this one woman. When we finally got to the booth, I realized that we had gotten the immigration agent from hell. He scrutinized everything about us and then told us that next time we’d need to provide written proof that we were allowed to travel, whatever that means. I had a hard time understanding him through his accent. He finally let us pass, and we realized that my wife had walked off and left us there. We had no idea where she’d gone, but she was nowhere to be found. So, we headed to baggage claim, and lo and behold there she was standing by the carousel. Which was annoying, especially considering that we almost didn’t even get cleared to be in this country!
The third hitch we encountered was arriving in Iceland only to find out that my wife’s suitcase didn’t arrive with us. We dropped off three bags at check-in, all at the same time, but hers is the only one that didn’t make it. She got emotional and started crying. She’s already decided that the whole trip is doomed. At this point, we have no idea where her bag actually is, which is stupid to me. Every bag has a tracking barcode on it. We have the other half, so I’m not sure why they can’t scan it and instantly know where the bag is. Why do they always need to “go investigate” and then get back to us?
We got our rental car and headed to Reykjavík, which was tricky because it was dark and cold and rainy. Luckily, my wife had put her winter coat in her carryon instead of her suitcase like Troy and I did. That and one change of clothes, but no underwear, so that’ll be interesting. Oh well, go with the flow, right?
The Hotel Borg is a very old, very nice hotel, if you can get to it that is. They have several streets closed off for the Christmas Market happening this weekend, so it was nigh impossible to get to where the GPS was leading us. Not to mention that the only parking is on the street, and there weren’t any spots available…anywhere in the city! After driving around unsuccessfully for 45 minutes, we finally called the hotel to get help. They directed us to a parking garage beneath city hall, but that was also full. We waited there for ten minutes for someone to leave and then proceeded to cram the car into one of the tiny little spots and unload it to walk the rest of the way. Which ended up being only about five minutes or so. Needless to say that we were exhausted when we finally got to our room.
Thanks to the ridiculous delay with the parking situation, it was almost ten o’clock when we finally checked in at the hotel, so most of the restaurants were closed, including the one in our own hotel. Luckily, the one in the hotel next door was still open, mostly because it had a bar. We settled in for a hearty meal, because by this point, we were starving. Everything on the menu was in Icelandic Krona, so we had to do the conversion to surprisingly find out that every dish cost was a small fortune, even the sides.
I decided to split a meal with Troy to reduce costs, so we got a lobster tail and tiger shrimp dish. It came with one small lobster tail and two slightly larger than regular sized shrimp. That was it…on a large plate. Luckily, we’d also gotten a side of rosemary garlic French fries, and they provided complimentary bread. My wife got a chicken dish and baby roasted potatoes. All of it was tasty, except the potatoes. And for that small pittance, we paid $65. This was to be a recurring theme in this city, but more on that later.
We headed back to the hotel for showers and then bed. It was close to one in the morning when we finally managed to crawl under the covers. Since my wife is on limited clothing, I washed her underwear in the shower and hung it up to dry. We’ll see how that turns out tomorrow.
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