Blue sky cool

 So, several months ago, when it dawned on me that our flight was landing at 6:30 am Iceland time, which is 2:30 am at home, I had the foresight (likely because elves) to add the night before we arrived to our super lovely AirBnB. This decision initially seemed foolish when we landed because we were hopped up on travel adrenaline. Then seemed very, very wise, when we crashed--hard--and slept for several hours.

When we pulled ourselves out of our duvet-cossetted slumbers before noon, glancing out our bank of living room windows we found a very bright and blue sky Reykjavik awaiting us.

Three of us set out in search of food, while one of us was still dreaming. And, as 24 hour access Americans, we were surprised to find that most restaurants in Iceland are not open for lunch (even when their websites might suggest otherwise, ahem). Sidebar: this pattern would hold true throughout this trip--places would be closed kind of randomly, which made me wonder if this is an Iceland thing, an impact of the great resignation. Second Sidebar--Icelanders also have random foot traffic patterns, on the street, in grocery stores, on staircases, everywhere, folks just kind of walk wherever they want regardless of the flow of traffic or who's in their way. Likely because of elves.

Anyway, after failing to find a restaurant that was both open and served clearly gf foods. Ned and I hit up a yummy bakery and then we walked to the Extra mart just four minutes down our street. And, demonstrated the love of culture that makes American the envy of the world, we immediately found the fun new flavors and names of snack foods! Henceforth, I shall be replacing the word "dipped" in my vocabulary with "enrobed."

On the way back, we found a cute little flower shop and--now wide awake--noticed the cool art at our building's door.

After waking the sleeping giant (that would be Penn), we strolled down sunny streets to downtown Reykjavik to meet up with our afternoon tour guide. Seriously, look at these skies! Our place is on Hverfisgata, which runs just parallel to the main shopping street.

On our walk, we found this place on our street--which delighted and confused us. 

It's got the name of Ned's hometown and the colors of the U. So, what's up? So very much! Read this description--really, read it. Feel the Icelandish of it. Miami Bar is a club in a building that was never a bar but that pretends to be an unfashionable 1980s bar from Miami that has been renovated and is once again a hip spot but whose staff still dress like Sonny Crockett and can direct you to a secret cellar ping pong club inspired by the Memphis movement. You know, the design aesthetic founded in the early 80s by Ettore Sottsass, but now in ping pong form. That, ladies and gentlemen, is Reykjavik in a nutshell. You can try, but you will never, ever be this effortfullessly cool.  

While the Hverfisgata was quiet (it's nickname is the "shadow neighborhood"), the crowds started to thicken when we got nearer to the central district. Friday marked the start of Iceland's summer, and the weather was cooperating. 

We had signed up for a tour with a Viking, which--as a veteran of multiple tours with a pirate--I fully expected to be a guy dressed like a Viking. Instead, he was a lovely, distinguished gentleman born and raised in Iceland who shared a more historical (than folklorical) approach to the tour. One thing that we were all surprised by: how young a country Iceland is. It didn't gain independence until 1944! Prior to that, it had been controlled by Norway and then Denmark (and briefly during WWII by England). So it's own political structure is new and seems modeled after most former monarchies: a president who's really more of a sovereign head of government with no real powers, and a prime minister who is the operational head of the government. They are very, very proud that their independence was won without bloodshed but with pen and paper. 

These pillars represent parts of the Viking longship that discovered Iceland. We learned that, unlike most countries, Iceland does not have an indigenous people (even the few Inuit who might have been on the island at some point were immigrants from Greenland), so the Vikings are the "original" Icelanders, some of whom brought enslaved Irish with them to work the land. At present, over 80% of those living in the country are Icelandic by birth and trace their lineage to Nordic or Gaelic roots. And, our guide told us that the majority of foreign nationals (15%) come from Poland to work in the fish processing plants. 

 

Now, in true cool-Iceland fashion, the Viking pillars anchor a square surrounded by brightly colored buildings that seems to be used primarily as a skatepark. One of them is the oldest building in Reykjavik (on right). Apparently most of what rests between this building and the sea is "newer"--it's natural landfill from the building of the city, which extended the shoreline.

We wandered through narrow streets with colorful, mix-matched houses, all served by volcano-sourced geothermal heat--which even keeps some of the streets cleared of snow in the long winter. Our guide told us that more than half of Icelanders believe in elves (which is apparently true), so we figured, why not?! And, as Harper pointed out, almost all the rocks looked just like the trolls in Frozen, which might be confusing cause and effect, but whatever. When in Iceland ... elves!

Our guide shared the crazy story that, although surrounded by water, it took Icelanders a long time to figure out how to bring in lots-o-fish (primarily cod). So, the ocean just a few miles off shore was filled with trawlers from every other country, while its own citizens tried to be farmers. They then had to fight to regain the rights to their waters, with the biggest bully being Great Britain (see, Hamilton). Finally, they won the right, and now fishing is their number one economic sector, followed by cheap geothermal power and the industries it brings (see, aluminum and NY's North Country), and tourism (see, us).

Here is a harbor statue that, after hearing the fishing story, I've nicknamed, "Wait, There are Fish Out There?"

The harbor is now home to multimillion-dollar apartments (including a $3M one owned by David Beckham). I noted that because our understanding of real estate value has been destroyed by living in NoVA, the price seemed kind of low for a waterside apartment.

Just down from this statue is the Harpa, a concert hall built into the water that is its own work of art. Shimmering in the sun from thousands of angled panes of mirrored glass inside and out, it sits like a sharply pointed, weighty yet fragile block of ice floating on the sea.

Throughout the tour, we came across public art and statues. The facade of the Reykjavik art museum is itself a wonderfully graphic representation of its purpose. As is the statue of the unknown bureaucrat (I feel seen!).

At the end of Laugavegur  is this tribute to the strength of Icelandic women, who kept all things running while their men struggled to understand how to get that fishing thing right. It references the history of women climbing the hill road to get warm water and then carry it all the way back down. Would the water turn cold, you wonder. Hella, no! The geothermal water is so incredibly hot that to-this-day tourists are warned to watch out when running taps and showers. Trust me--this water and the pipes that carry it are HOT!

And, of course, there's the street art that one expects in every big city--like murals and a dog riding a scooter.

We turned the corner on a lovely Reykjavik lake, which is used for town celebrations, toward Parliament.

 

This smallish, rather plain building (which wouldn't look out of place in Old Town Alexandria as  converted loft apartments) was the site of massive riots during the financial meltdown the country experienced in 2008. While they seem fairly chill, the Icelandic people brought out the firepots and firebrands to topple the government, and there was great concern that the country's precarious financial situation would mean it needed to revert to being a Danish colony. Following the imprisonment of the bankers and the installation of a new government, being Icelandish, they marked the occasion with an art piece showing the division that split the country, symbolized by a fire pot cleaving the stone. (Elf not included.)

With that, our tour was over. We thanked our guide, watched some young women play a drinking game in the park that seemed to combine Red Rover with a shoe toss, and went off in search of food. 

We began at Reykjavik's famous hot dog stand: Baejarins Betzu Pylsur (the dog's fine, but the secret is the crispy onions!).

It's been surprisingly hard to find good gluten free food for Harper in Reykjavik. Our AirBnB host noted that Iceland is behind most countries in this. But, we did find a decent Vietnamese place for dinner and then saw a cute creperie across the street with actual GF offerings!

It just happened to be on the rainbow road, so we grabbed some shots.

Let me stress that we took these photos around 10 pm. The sun rises around 4 here and sets about 11:30, and--given how disrupted our sleep patterns are--we know that it never actually gets dark. I woke up at 2:45 this morning dead certain it was midmorning because of how bright it was. Guess that just means more hours to fill!

And before I end day one: sadly, this was our only Bjork sighting of our amazing first day: