After a very full Sunday--and with some members of the family still struggling with jet lag combined with what is effectively 24 hours of daylight--everyone got a late start to Monday.
Harper and Penn were booked on an Icelandic horse riding excursion, so Ned dropped them at their pick up spot on his way to the Iceland Costco to gas up our car. More on their trip later. Ned's two must-do Reykjavik museums were the
Icelandic Punk Museum (yes!) and the
Phallological Museum (much less yes). But, we swore til death do us part, so we set off together for what I decided to call (with good reason, as it turns out), the penis museum.
It was another blue sky Reykjavik day, and the city was showing off its best colors.
What does one eat before going to the penis museum? You guessed it--hot dogs! They were as good as on day one; again, it's the crispy onions.
Then, the penis museum.
The back story: a totally not-at-all creepy and super-normal Icelandic guy--who worked in a grade school--became fascinated with collecting animal penises after using a bull pizzle as a whip on a farm in South America. So, he started collecting them, and--in a gesture he acknowledges was likely designed to make fun of him--his co-workers started gifting him with even more specimens. Eventually, he had 62 animal penises and decided to start a museum.
Okay, let's stop here. 62 is certainly a cry for help when it comes to collecting animal penises, but how is that enough of ANYTHING to say, "Hey, now I can start a museum!" By this standard, I'm ready to start museums dedicated to Old Navy, fat quarters, and--given enough time on Poshmark over the next year--Rothy's.
ANYWAY ... In this museum, I learned that most male animals are jerks and nobody spellchecks anything when translating. Plus, even though there seemed to be a phallic image on my latte and the waffles were shaped like penises--both were really very good. So, there you go.
Ned's review: I learned that mythical mermen would have green penises. And the waffles were really very good.
Next stop: the Icelandic Punk Museum, which is located in a converted underground men's restroom and dedicated to Icelandic punk only.
It's run by an old (as in, our age old) Icelandic punk rocker with a lot of stories and a great love of punk. The museum consists of a series of converted and mostly cleaned bathroom stalls and urinals papered with a chronological history of the Icelandic music scene, leading up to and ending with punk.
As one might expect, there was an entire section dedicated to the Sugar Cubes--it seemed to have been the sink room. (Bjork sightings of the day!)
We talked with the proprietor about his experiences in America, his brushes with greatness (including meeting
John Lydon and Duff McKagan), and the museum. He was super-friendly and animated but a work text ended the conversation (that's me feeling a text come in on my phone but not wanting to be rude during a conversation with a punk rocker who's describing how he went to rehab more times than Duff--seriously). No waffles here, but definitely a cool museum.
After I did some quick work stuff, we decided to hike up rainbow road to the iconic Hallgrimskirkja, a soaring yet austere Lutheran cathedral that seemed to pierce the blue sky.
The interior of the cathedral was spare and almost completely without decoration. The only stained glass we found was on the doors, and even then, it was simple, evoking a warm natural element otherwise absent from the interior.
The real draw of the cathedral are the views of Reykjavik from its bell tower. Of course, we walked out into the tower just as the bells were tolling 6 pm, almost deafening us and bringing great amusement to the family already up there as we ran back into the stairwell to escape the lovely but incredibly loud bells.
The views were worth it!
The kids texted us as we were leaving the tower, and we agreed to meet up at Shalimar, a Pakistani/Indian place, for dinner.
As we walked back to the city center, we found a sculpture garden behind a partially open gate and slipped inside. The very intense, Nordic sculptures--many evoking Norse mythology--are by Icelandic artist Einar Jonsson, who paid for the castings himself. The museum, which we didn't visit, looks like a cross between a mythological fort and castle, and there's some thought that Jonsson designed it himself. Fun story, he offered all of his works to the Icelandic people if they'd build this museum, and it took them five years to say, "um, okay."
The tone of the garden fits the neighborhood, which is known as the Neighborhood of the Gods, with streets named after all your favorite Thor characters!
On our walk to Shalimar, we found more colorful Reykjavik houses--and some puffins!
When we caught up with Harper and Penn and asked about the Icelandic horse riding adventure, we got many humorous stories about the other folks on the tour and the news that Harper was apparently severely allergic to the horses but just kept with the ride anyway. She had come home with shortness of breath, puffy eyes, and lots of sneezing. Smart girl that she is, she downed some Benadryl. By dinner, though, she was dazed, sleepy, and very eager to get something in her stomach. The verdict: the horses were cool yet deadly and the scenery was gorgeous--and Penn forgot his sunglasses (again). Some snaps:
Dinner was delicious with a very leisurely pace of service that we've come to think of as very Icelandic--our order was taken about 20 minutes after we were seated and two of the entrees were out about 15 minutes before the other two. Must be the glaciers.
By the end of dinner, Harper was about to fall into a Benadryl coma, so we started the walk home, past more street art, stopping for some yummy ice cream takeaway.
Ned decided to try out the Icelandic cocktail scene; Harper passed out; Penn took a pre-2:30 am Celtics-Heat game disco nap; and I worked on the blog, fueled by French press and Emily in Paris.
Around midnight, as the sky grew darker (yet not dark) with the coming rain, the streetlights came on--a first for our stay!
Good night, Reykjavik--may all your odd museums come with yummy waffles and my all your wonderful ponies be allergy-free!
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