iceland tales - intermission: vah-deo!

while i write about the Worst Tour EVAH, please enjoy this jaunty tourism video from the folks at "inspired by iceland":

iceland tales - intermission: hot dog! we have a weiner!

iceland's most famous restaurant is a hot dog stand.

it's called, in english, "the hot dog stand."

and it was a five-minute walk from my studio.

as such, i ate there whenever i needed (or wanted) a quick, cheap and easy-to-eat-while-standing-outside meal. once i'd sampled its wares, i also took other visiting friends there and everyone enjoyed it.

the place, which is a teeny, tiny red-and-white metal shack near the waterfront, usually staffed by one or two attendants, serves one thing and one thing only: hot dogs. no fries. no bags of chips. nothing else, just their signature weiners. or, in icelandic, pylsurs.

rumour has it the dogs are made from a combo of beef and lamb, which contributes to their tastiness, but i have no idea if that's true. and i'm sure "lamb" and "beef" are looooosely stretched terms for what's actually inside the casings: we all know hot dogs are made from eyelids and earlobes, not prime cuts of meat.

at the hot dog stand, you can get your hot dog with your choice of five toppings (which they apply for you): mustard, ketchup, mayo, fried onions and/or raw onions. you can also buy one size of fountain drink. no ice. total for a dog and a drink: 470 ISK (about $4).

there's one picnic bench next to the shack, with little rounded racks into which you stand your dog while you fidget with your camera or sip your beverage. otherwise, it's standing room only… and, boy, are there tons of people standing.

no matter what time of day i passed by or stopped, there was a line. sometimes, a really long one. tourists, to be sure, but plenty of locals, as well. to me, that's the measure of quality: if folks who live there enjoy eating there, it's not just a tourist trap geared at ripping you off in the name of novelty.

not sure how many dogs i ate over the course of my visit, but it was the site of my last meal in reykjavik before i left for the airport.

iceland tales: touring the golden circle

first thing in the morning on my second day in reykjavik, i got up early, ate a hearty breakfast, suited up in about a half-dozen layers, grabbed my cameras and headed outside to wait for the pick-up for my first tour: the golden circle. the weather was cold but crisp and clear, and i was psyched.

the golden circle is the tour that just about everyone who visits iceland takes. it hits a good number of natural wonders -- thingvellir national park, gullfoss waterfall, the geysers -- and every single tour company in the country offers guided visits there. since i figured i'd be spending the weekend *in* the city (for the wedding, culture night and hanging out with fellow wedding guests who'd be arriving later in the week), i booked my "let's explore the great outdoors!" tours for the start of my visit. because, if i was going all the way over to iceland, i wanted to be sure i would behold breathtaking nature!

as i stood near the stoop of the guesthouse, i was joined by two other couples, who were staying in two of the other studios. one couple were older, maybe in their 60s, and from vancouver; the other were two NYC lady gays in their late-40s. they, too, had all come outside to wait for pick-up for tours. coincidentally, we were all using the same tour company, but my quartet of neighbours were all headed to the south coast that day.

what's interesting about the mornings in reykjavik is the traffic. the streets fill with one touring van after another, from myriad tour companies, all out gathering up guests for the day. reykjavik excursions, iceland excursions, iceland guided tours, gateway to iceland, iceland horizons, and so on and so on. in fact, there are so many of them (and they all look so much alike) that you're actually instructed to make sure you get on the right one with the right company.

all the companies require that guests be waiting outside their hotels/guesthouses/wherever between 8:30 and 9am for pick-up… so, for that half hour, all over the city, tiny clusters of people stand on sidewalks to be collected by small vans. or big buses.

when our "gateway to iceland" van pulled up, the jovial, white-haired, bearded driver hopped out with a clipboard, looked at all of us and said, "okay, let's make this really easy. which one of you is going to the golden circle today?"

i shot my hand up in the air.

"great. you sit up front with me!"

i hopped in and rode shotgun as we criss-crossed the city, filling empty seats as we went. i learned that our driver, who spoke with barely a hint of an accent, was actually the owner of the company and, because i was sitting up front, he and i chatted about the city as we drove. "you're getting the city tour for free!" he said, smiling.

then, our van stopped at a rendezvous point where we each divided into different vans based on our tour destination. i bid adieu to the group from the guesthouse and got into a larger van, where i snagged the Best Seat Ever -- a single seat right behind the sliding side door, so i had TONS of leg room and a great big window through which to view the landscape as we traveled.

once all was said and done and we'd picked up everyone for the golden circle (14 of us in all, with two toddlers whose presence made me worry our long drive might be filled with tears and wailing), our guide -- a plucky older woman named ragna -- slipped on her radio mic, introduced herself and we headed off for a day filled with history, stories and beautiful scenery.

our first stop -- thingvellir national park -- was, for me, probably the least exciting destination of the day… but i say that speaking relatively, since it was still absolutely breathtaking and made for some great photo ops.

we stepped out of the van, which was parked amid a sea of other touring vans and buses, and ragna led us to a big topographical map of the area. she explained what stuff was, and where, and how the area had been used for iceland's first parliament centuries ago. she encouraged us to try to stick together as a group (so no one would get lost or left behind), cautioned us about wandering off the marked paths (since the ground underneath our feet could be unstable and we might find ourselves unknowingly stepping into a sinkhole) and then led us to a viewing platform overlooking the entire park.

she pointed to a small church way in the distance and said that would be our rendezvous point for a pick-up in about 40 minutes. she made sure we all saw the path that would lead us to the van, and then sent us on our way to explore.

as i wandered, i tried to absorb as much of what was around me as possible. sure, there were a lot of tourists, but they would occasionally bottleneck at certain points… leaving the rest of the park wide open. there were times that i distinctly felt the vastness of the land, and looked around to realize i was the only person in a given spot. i improvised tri-pods and used the timer on my camera to snap a few self-portraits, and i was so glad i'd decided to bring YB's canon rebel along, as well. the photos don't do justice to the splendor of the country, but a nicer camera did help.

once the group reassembled at the meeting spot, we loaded into the van and drove to a café /gift store on the outskirts of the park. this would be our first coffee/pee break. there had been pay toilets at the main thingvellir entrance, but ragna took us to a place where we could pee for free.

sort of.

the deal at this café is: if you buy something at the café or gift shop, the toilets are free. if you don't, they request a 100 ISK (about 80¢) fee. thing is, it's all on the honour system -- there's no attendant collecting the washroom money, nor locked doors that will only open once you've paid. there's essentially a collection box outside the main doors of the men's and women's restrooms, with a note encouraging payment.

plenty of folks went in and out without paying, but i dropped in the required fee. i figured it was the right thing to do, a very affordable price for very clean facilities and a way of putting forth some good energy.

next, we drove about 45 minutes to gullfoss waterfall, THE major waterfall in iceland and, again, the one everyone visits. this was exciting.

first of all, getting around the waterfall area -- up and down the paths to the falls -- gave my teva hiking boots a great workout. the paths were rocks or gravel, with grassy viewing areas along the way, so i was glad i had good footwear to take me where i wanted to go. i saw some other tourists -- who, perhaps, had envisioned more of a built-up, concrete-centric, niagara falls-esque park -- in dress shoes and flip flops (!) and wondered how they fared on the climb back up to civilization.

anyway…

the falls were gorgeous and there was mist everywhere. i don't think i've ever wiped my camera lens as much as i did in the 40 or so minutes i walked around the raging waters. i took a lot of pictures but, again, they can't quite fully capture what it was like to be there, hearing the roar of the falls and feeling the cool mist. i also wished it had been sunnier; the grey skies dulled what might have otherwise been really phenomenal photos.

i walked down to the area immediately around the falls and was amazed at the complete lack of security! there were no giant fences or walls or signs warning of impending doom, as one might find in niagara falls, just a narrow rope at knee-level. on the other side of that rope: gullfoss waterfall and the potential to very easily plummet to your death. the viewing area down at falls level was basically just an outcropping of rocks, which made for some fun climbing and some spectacular vantage points, but i couldn't help but notice how easy it would be to slip on the rocks and fall in. or, you know, get pushed in. so, save for a couple of self-portraits as close to the rapids as i dared, i kind of kept a safe distance. i really didn't want to be a headline or a statistic all in the name of a great shot.

up near the main entrance to the park area was the big restaurant/gift shop set-up where, we'd been told, we could buy a bowl of iceland's most famous lamb soup. now, i had zero interest in eating lamb, but the soup smelled great and i was tempted to buy a bowl and just eat the vegetables and broth… until i saw that a bowl cost the equivalent of about $12!

erm, no thanks. i opted to sit down in the huge, rustic dining room and eat the power bar i'd packed. as i looked around at my fellow visitors, i actually recognized a couple of people from my flight. yeah, iceland is SMALL… i would also keep seeing people from my flight around reykjavik as the week went on.

once we were all fed, we hopped back into the van for the trip to the geyser park. i got to know some of the folks on our tour -- there was an older couple from the UK, who were very friendly, and a mom and her young daughter from atlanta, who were just as excited as i was at the prospect of petting icelandic horses (which ragna had mentioned as a possibility earlier in the day).

the geyser park was okay but, once you've waited and watched strokkur spew steam into the air (which happens once every three to seven minutes), there isn't a whole lot else to see. we were warned not to reach over the roped paths to put our hands in seemingly innocuous waters -- the average water temperature was about 80 - 100ºC (176 - 212ºF) -- so it was just some meandering along dirt paths from one bubbling hole in the earth to the next. that said, there was one dual pool that was very cool -- fed from the same subterranean chamber, one half of the pool was milky blue and the other was crystal clear.

as we drove out of the geyser park, ragna scanned the roadside fields for horses and stopped when she found a clearing where we could all stand. there were a few horses in the distance, but they didn't seem particularly interested in us.

"just whistle and they'll come over," ragna advised.

so, we all started whistling and clicking and clucking… but nothing happened.

then ragna came over to the fence, whistled once and, presto!, one of the horses lifted its head and began walking over. as soon as it did, a few of its friends followed suit. shortly, we were nose-to-nose with the gentle, fuzzy, beautiful animals, petting them and feeding them big handfuls of grass. everyone took photos and enjoyed this bonus stop (which, it turns out, is actually a common "bonus stop" for many of the tour companies).

our ride back towards reykjavik included two more such stops at craters -- one was at a freaky red-rock cavern-like spot, and the other was at kerio, a 3000-year-old crater best known for being the site of floating björk concert.

at the red-rock crater, our eyes went all screwy due to the colour of our surroundings. as such, rocks that appeared to be bright blue (when i snapped their picture) were revealed to be grey when i looked at the photo later on. as we drove into that crater, ragna told us all to close our eyes and to keep them closed until she instructed us to open them. i closed mine, and wondered why she'd wanted it so -- i feared that she was perhaps driving on some kind perilous road that would have had us all freaking out if we'd seen it.

nope. she just wanted to surprise us with all that mars-like red rock... which, btw, was also porous and, as a result, weighed nothing!

kerio was also impressive. it's huge and deep, and my teva hikers came in handy once again when i trekked through grassy fields to the spot where ragna said i'd be able to get the best photo (she was right, and it was worth the extra walk!).

as we drove back into town, a few members of our tour group napped. it had been a long and tiring day, but one filled with so much awesome stuff to see, and they were clearly pooped. a few (like me) had only arrived the day before, so jet lag was still an issue. nonetheless, ragna kept right on telling the rest of us stories about the area, the landscape, icelandic history and anything else anyone asked about. by the time we were back in reykjavik, i felt like i'd had a thorough iceland primer in the span of one eight-hour journey.

when she dropped me off near my guesthouse, i thanked ragna for a truly excellent day out. i'd had a terrific time, met some nice people and saw things that, a year ago, i never would have dreamed i'd be seeing. throughout the day, i was repeatedly struck by the significance of what was happening -- what it meant for me to be there and what everything felt like. how moved i often was by what i was seeing and experiencing, simply because i was there, seeing and experiencing it. it was one "holy crap, i can't believe this is real" moment after another, in the best possible way and i finished the day feeling great.

too bad the next day's tour would prove to be the antithesis of this one...

iceland tales: reunited… and it feels so good…

as i walked along the quaint streets towards the quaint church along the banks of the quaint pond in the middle of quaint-overload reykjavik, two* thoughts kept running around in my head:

“OMG! I AM IN ICELAND!”

and

“OMG! I AM GOING TO SEE ERICANDDAN!”

(*occasionally with an “OMG! this place is quaint!” chaser.)

it had been three years since we’d last been in the same city together, embarking on joyful misadventures and engaging in posing-related shenanigans. three years! even though they’d moved across america last spring and were now happily ensconced in brookyln instead of los angeles, our dramatically improved proximity to one another did little to enhance the frequency of our visits.

and, really, a lot can happen in three years. people can change. lives can change. there was a part of me that wondered, for a fleeting moment, whether we’d have as much fun now, in iceland in 2011 and amid a flurry of wedding prep, as we did then, in toronto in 2008 and amid a whirlwind of film festivalling. sure, we’d stayed in touch via email and facebook and blogs and the occasional epic phone call… but what if this would turn out to be… different? what if, for whatever reason, the magic we shared on our previous visits would somehow be missing or have changed? i quickly blamed my incessant, interior voice of unreason for those worries, and figured they were simply an annoying and irrational by-product of my trip-induced stress and fatigue.

because, seriously?, i love ericanddan and they love me, and we always, ALWAYS have a blast together. i swatted away the mosquito-like doubt and sat down in the afternoon sun on the front steps of the lutheran free church, took a deep breath of crisp icelandic air and felt really lucky to be there.

as soon as i looked up the street and saw ericanddan walking towards me, my heart did a little flip and i had the urge to immediately leap to my feet and break into a clichéd, movie-reunion sprint… but refrained. though, we did all do a momentary, fake-slo-mo-through-the-meadow run to each other. we hugged long and hard, and then collectively took a moment to absorb the fact that we were in iceland.

together.

for their WEDDING.

OMG!

instantly, three years evaporated and we picked up right where we’d left off. i couldn’t believe (well, yes, i can) how happy i felt to see them – i actually have almost no memory of what we said to each other in those first 10 or 15 minutes because it felt like we were all so excited that the words just kept flying rapidfire out of our mouths as though we only had an hour together and needed to say everything all at once. or, at least, that’s the way i think it was. it’s kind of a giddy blur, to be honest.

i do know they gave me my “welcome to our wedding” gift bag – for those curious about its contents, it contained a disposable camera, lots of funny wedding-related literature, monogrammed M&Ms, some pieces of icelandic candy (if anyone is craving chocolate-coated salted black licorice, reykjavik has you covered!), a bar of volcanic-ash soap and a city map.

the fellas had some wedding-centric errands that needed running, so i decided to tag along – the plan being that we’d sit down to eat afterward and just hang out for a while. we stopped at a waffle van (!), where the guys picked up waffles-to-go. i foolishly declined, thinking i’d be spoiling my impending dinner, but i’m not exaggerating when i say that i regret skipping a waffle TO THIS DAY because that waffle van was nowhere to be found for the remainder of my time in reykjavik, save for its geographically unfortunate cameo appearance on the opposite side of the runner-filled road during the marathon several days later.

anyway…

we walked to the boys’ hotel at the other end of town – thankfully, we’re all seasoned walkers, weren’t fazed by the 3.5km trek and could easily maintain a brisk pace! – and to the large thermal pool/recreation center where they’d be hosting a day-after-we’re-hitched afternoon of warm-water frolicking for anyone who wanted to attend (more on that in a subsequent blog entry).

at the hotel, there were gift bags to be completed and sorted, and a fascinating exercise in passive-aggressive event management on the part of the weirdly flustered hotel staff. suffice it to say, their exchanges with the grooms were repeated variations on the following subtext:

ericanddan: here are the gift bags you said you’d keep at reception for our guests!

hotel staffer of choice: yeeeee-ah, we’d rather not keep all those gift bags at reception, though…

standing in the hotel offices, surrounded by 40-or-so blue paper bags stuffed with goodies, i could feel the tension levels rising as requests were made (by the reception staff) to have the bags grouped according to party, then sorted into “guests of the hotel” vs. “interlopers who’ll just be stopping by to get their swag so we don’t really care about them,” then sorted by arrival date, then organized in alphabetical order.

seriously.

eventually, we simply brought a bunch of bags back up to ericanddan’s room and then headed out for food. by this point, i think we were all ready to chew off our own arms. or, worse, chow down on some chocolate-covered salted licorice. (yep. i ate some of it, i was that hungry.)

as we walked back into town, everything felt right with the world. i couldn’t believe that i’d ever considered, even for a millesecond, not coming. what could i have been thinking?! we wandered and chatted and laughed, and i was so very very very glad to be there.

we eventually stopped at a wood-oven pizza joint, settled into our tables and gossiped about the wedding, the attendees, the plans and all points in between. we ate and drank, took a few photos and then all agreed that we were beat. ericanddan were headed back to the thermal pool for an evening soak, and i was headed back to my studio for a hot shower and, i hoped, some sleep. we hugged each other goodnight and then parted ways. i wouldn’t see them again until the rehearsal dinner two nights later… when, unbeknownst to me at the time, my life would change.

as well, it turned out that this first night together was just the beginning of five days filled with exactly the kind of misadventures and shenanigans i’d come to love and expect with ericanddan. (stay tuned for: lady gaga, getting naked, anticlimactic light shows and eating delicious hot dogs.)

as i made my way back to the guesthouse, my heart was full. not only did i feel relaxed and at home and happy, but my reunion with my dear, goofy, lovable, faraway-and-now-near friends could not have been more perfect. (well, maybe if there had been cake.) in the dusk-like light, i also felt like i’d just scored a coup, having carved out some rare private time with two very popular friends who’d soon be inundated with arriving guests and demands on their schedules.

for those few hours, it was just the three of us, hanging out.

later that night, sitting on my bed and reflecting on the day, i thought about the fact that there are only a tiny handful of people on the planet for whom i would get on a plane and fly, alone, 4100km to a country i’ve never before visited.

and how, for ericanddan, i will always buy a ticket.

with that, i clicked off the lights, put my head on my pillow and hoped for a sound, restful sleep because, in the morning, it would be time to put on the outdoor gear and go explore the country’s natural wonders…

iceland tales - intermission: teva tales!

apologies for leaving the tales hanging briefly, but i've spent the past two days working on an article about the muppets (in addition to working full-time at the magazines), so i haven't had time to sit and ruminate further about iceland. i will tomorrow, though!

in the meantime…

on the rocky path down to gullfoss waterfall

if you recall, before i left for iceland, i had some boot-buying angst when i bought and regretted one pair and then happily found the pair i didn't even know i wanted.

i'm sure many of you have been on the edge of your seat ever since, wondering how the boots fared and whether they gave me blisters and if i'd worn them to do all the things i thought i would do while wearing them... right?

let me just say… these boots were AMAZING.

beyond perfect.

after only a couple of days of mild breaking-in (i.e., wearing them around the carpeted office) before i departed for iceland, they performed like champs! they fit right away and  in all the right places. they were snug and pliable and well-padded, with comfy soles and great arch support. they were waterproof, kept me dry and warm, and were light as a feather. this was all very handy since i wore them to the airport on the evening i left toronto and basically didn't take them off for seven days straight.

i'd lace them up around 8:30 each morning, spend the day out and about, and then kick them off around 9:30pm (or later -- on culture night, those puppies were on me until midnight)… and i never had any pain or discomfort or even tired feet, let alone blisters or buyer's remorse.

those tevas took me to waterfalls and beaches, over rocky terrain and along dirt paths. i wore them in the city and in the country, and felt grateful every single day that i'd decided to buy them.

they get an A+ from me, and i'm excited to see where they take me next.

iceland tales: home away from home

the bus ride from keflavik airport to reykjavik is a bit like driving across the surface of the moon. it's all lava fields and rocks, and makes for an eerily desolate landscape.

well, except for the big taco bell/KFC franchise you pass almost immediately after leaving the airport grounds. i'm pretty sure i heard a sad-trumpet "wah-waaaaah" in my head when i saw it.

the bus was full and i sat down next to a guy from minneapolis. i know this because we chatted all the way into town (which took around 40 minutes). he was going to be in iceland for a week and wasn't sure what he was going to do, sightseeing-wise. "i don't really like nature," he said. when i asked what made him choose iceland as a destination, then, he sort of shrugged and said, "i dunno. it's just somewhere i've always been curious to see." fair 'nuff. i told him about culture night, and wished him luck finding other, non-nature-y stuff to do. (he was also eager to try putrified shark. i wished him well with that, too.) as we talked, i thought about how much more pleasant my plane trip would have been had i had someone this chatty and friendly seated next to me.

anyway...

once we arrived at the bus terminal -- where everyone is split into smaller groups to board smaller shuttles that take everyone to their designated hotels -- i bid him adieu, grabbed my bag from the luggage bay and got onto my mini-bus.

the drive through the reykjavik streets was fascinating. i felt a bit like a four year old, mentally oohing and ahhing at all the pretty houses and cobblestone streets and inherent different-ness (it's a word) of it all. and, all the while, i kept checking my watch.

gunnar, the owner of the guesthouse where i'd be staying, had told me in an email (before i left) that he had to leave for a tour at 9am and that, if i arrived after his departure, he'd leave my keys in a keybox along with instructions on where to go and what to do and how to let myself in. but i wanted to meet him, and i didn't want to have to find my way around. what if the keys didn't work? where would i put my stuff? his tour wouldn't be back until 8pm, and i had no cell phone, so how would i reach him?

thankfully, the bus dropped me off at 8:35am, i walked up to the door, rang the appropriate buzzer and heard a male voice say, "welcome!"

much to my relief and delight, gunnar was there (his tour had been cancelled) and he was wonderful. totally warm and welcoming, with twinkly eyes and an easy laugh. because it was so early in the morning, and there was a guest in the studio i'd be renting (who'd be leaving a few hours later), my place wasn't yet ready for me. so, instead, gunnar led me up a winding staircase to a third-floor flat in the adjacent house and said i could hang out (and leave my stuff) there until such time as i could move into my studio. perfect!

the place was old but clean and fully outfitted with IKEA accessories. in hindsight, i regret not taking out my camera and snapping some photos, since the ambiance and environment were completely different than that of the studio in which i'd be staying. this place was all old-world originality.

there was a big bedroom with two (spotless) twin beds, with duvets and linens stacked on a small writing desk. gunnar said i was welcome to use the beds to sleep, if i needed. there was also a private bathroom with a shower, and a spacious kitchen with coffee, tea and a table and chairs. a large and lovely window was next to the table, overlooking the street.

gunnar gave me a key, so i could come and go and lock my things, and then said he was headed home (one floor down) for a much-needed nap. he'd been up until 3am that morning, waiting for a set of guests.

once he left, i felt a little lost. i wasn't sure what to do with myself. it was barely 9am, and nothing was open yet (in reykjavik, most stores open at 10). though i was really tired, i was also feeling wired and trying for a nap didn't seem realistic. i decided i needed breakfast, so i ate the two slices of pound cake i'd packed for the flight but hadn't eaten. i sat at the kitchen table and watched the world outside. those "what will this be like?" questions started to surface again but, as i sat there, the sleep monster also began to wrap its arms around my shoulders. by the time i was done with the cake, i was drowsy. so, i kicked off my hiking boots, put some linens on one of the beds, pulled down the blinds and had a dozy nap for about an hour.

when i awoke, i decided to explore the neighbourhood. i felt pretty sure my stuff would be safe, so i lightened my knapsack load a little and went for a walk. before i'd left toronto, i'd printed out a slew of maps of the area and had marked down all the important locations: grocery store, library, the guesthouse. the library was open by that time, so i went in and emailed home to let everyone know i'd arrived okay.

then i wandered. i sort of went in concentric circles (on purpose), gradually working my way out farther and farther from the guesthouse. it was great way to familiarize myself with the surrounding streets and the general vicinity and, the more i walked, the more relaxed i felt. i did that for a little more than an hour, then returned to the guesthouse's holding flat to pee… and take another nap.

gunnar returned to fetch me just after 1pm. he took my bag, led me back downstairs and around the back. he showed me how to open the door (and unlock the somewhat-tricky lock) to the main guesthouse area. then he opened the door to my studio and ushered me in.

it was ADORABLE!

first, and most importantly, it was immaculately clean. like, Vickie Clean™. every inch of that place was sparkling. there were two narrow twin beds pushed together to make a (small) "king," and the entire space -- just like the holding flat -- was decked out in IKEA furniture and accessories… right down to the cutlery. there were two nightstands, a clock radio, a small TV (that didn't actually work), a table and two chairs in front of the large window overlooking the street, and the cutest, most perfect kitchenette ever. it was fully equipped with everything i could possibly need -- a microwave, toaster, coffee maker, two-burner stovetop and a bar fridge with freezer. there was coffee, tea, sugar, salt, pepper and cooking oil, along with a box of cocoa puffs left over from a previous guest.

i loved it.

gunnar whipped out a big city map and unfolded it on the table, then proceeded to mark off points of interest for me. as he did so, he would explain bits of trivia about whatever place he was circling, and he gave me rough estimates of walking times (because i asked). when i asked when i should pay him, he sort of laughed and waved me off. "are you leaving tomorrow?" he asked.

"well, no."

"then you can pay me later, don't worry!"

we hugged goodbye -- i asked him if he was a hugger, and he said yes -- and then i exhaled. after a few minutes poking around the apartment and, of course, checking for bed bugs (not surprisingly, there weren't any), i headed to the grocery store to pick up breakfast fixins. reykjavik is a very expensive city, so i wanted to have food on hand so that i could eat at least one meal a day at home… and so that i'd have snacks to take along on the day trips or to eat in the evenings after i got back.

the two main grocery stores were about a 10-minute walk away. both were very small (by north american standards) but had what i needed. i bought two tubs of skyr (one blueberry, one strawberry), some tropical fruit juice, a bag of four frozen bagels, a carton of milk, bananas (which they grow in greenhouses), some caramel/chocolate cookies and a box of kellogg's tropical muesli… which was DELICIOUS and is not available on this side of the ocean. by the time i left the grocery store and began walking back to the guesthouse, i was feeling very settled. as i unpacked my groceries, i was happy.

and, when i put on my scarf, grabbed my camera, locked my door and headed out towards the lutheran free church to reunite with ericanddan for the first time in three years… i was excited.

iceland tales - intermission: four fast facts

* everyone born in iceland is automatically lutheran unless otherwise declared by the birth parents.

* there are no last names in iceland. it's a patronymic system, so sons and daughters take their father's first name + "sson" (for the boys) or "sdóttir" (for the girls). and all first names have to get the okay from the icelandic naming committee.

* the cold water that comes out of the tap is glacier water. it's clean and delicious and very, very, very cold.

* the hot water that comes out of the tap is geothemally heated water. it smells like sulphur and is SCALDINGLY, first-degree-burn-y hot.

FYI: photo blog updated

... now with shots from iceland!

iceland tales: getting there

by the time i left for the airport on august 15th, i was feeling a little less anxious but still kind of frazzled, as though i'd somehow missed some kind of crucial travel detail that would result in me being denied boarding in toronto or tackled by icelandic security upon deplaning in reykjavik.

as the car i'd booked inched along the highway, i realized what it was.

see, my belt -- the one i usually wear and the one i'd fully planned on wearing on this trip -- always sets off the metal detectors at the airport, so i inevitably take it off (as a way of speeding the process and avoiding the beeping alarm) before ever heading through security. this time, though, i'd thought to myself, "why not just pack your belt in your knapsack while you're still at home and just put it on after security instead of putting it on, taking it off and putting it on again?"

a solid plan, to be sure, and one that would have bordered on flawless had i not forgotten to actually pack said belt into my knapsack before locking my apartment door and leaving.

the belt was right where i left it when i'd first had the idea: hanging on the back of my bedroom door.

after a few seconds of "omigodwillmypantsstayupwhileitravel?" anxiety, i rationalized that one of my first orders of business in reykjavik would simply be buying a belt and, if that didn't pan out, i still had the thin, dressy belt i'd be wearing to the wedding to get me through. i'd definitely packed it in my duffel bag, so i knew i had a however-flimsy emergency back-up on deck.

despite nasty rush-hour traffic, i arrived at the airport nice and early. my e-ticket for icelandair said check-in would begin at 7pm; i arrived at 6:03pm and there was already a line, with ticket agents already processing customers. within 15 minutes, i'd checked my bag, been given my boarding pass and found myself with nearly two hours to kill at terminal 3.

i'd already eaten an early dinner while still at home, so i wasn't hungry. since i'd be sitting for five hours on my flight, i opted to just wander for a while. the walk wasn't terribly scintillating, what with my limited options, so i eventually sat down in the waiting area at an empty gate and pondered my impending journey.

what would my rental studio be like? would i get there in time to meet the owner, or would i be left to fend for myself in his absence? what should i buy for breakfast? would i be hungry when i landed? who'd be sitting next to me on the flight?

then, gradually, bigger questions: what would this trip be like? who might i meet? where would i travel? what new things could i experience and, more importantly, would i allow myself to experience them or would i revert to old patterns?

the more i thought about, quite literally, flying into the great unknown, the more i tried to focus on being in the moment and just letting life happen as it happens instead of trying to predict how it would unfold or, worse, trying to somehow wrangle control of it. and, slowly, it worked.

i took some photos of bernard, called my mom and trix to chat, then peed one more time before heading to my gate to board.

i booked an aisle seat in the last row of the plane and, as i approached, saw a tall, sporty, blonde girl standing next to it with her bag where i was supposed to sit my bum. she said (with an icelandic accent), "is this your seat?"

i said yes, and she said, "would you mind switching with me? i have a bad leg." she pointed to her seat -- a middle seat on the opposite side, one row up.

uh, no. for starters, her leg seemed fine when she was walking around the airport earlier, and i'd specifically booked an aisle seat so i wouldn't have to sit between two other people. i did applaud her effort to get out of having to stick to her crappy seat, though. never hurts to ask, i guess, and maybe someone else would have actually agreed.

"sorry," i said. "but i booked an aisle seat because i'm tall and i like the extra room to stretch my legs."

"oh, of course," she said, and easily took her seat.

i sat down in mine. there were two guys sitting in the other two seats beside me. one, near the window, looked about 18, blonde and nordic, and had been carrying a guitar in the waiting lounge. the other, right next to me and middle-aged, looked sour. i would learn, as the flight progressed, that he was just as sour as he appeared, that he had zero interest in talking to me and that he had little regard for my personal space. he kept elbowing me as he tossed and turned while trying to sleep, he hogged the armrest and would frequently shove his stuff towards me on the floor when looking for his ipod, his calendar or this weird little book of what looked like bible verses in calendar form.

the flight attendants were all older (relatively speaking, when it comes to flight attendants) and sort of… broad. like, east-german-swim-team broad. these were no shrinking violets and, though they weren't exceptionally friendly and they all smelled very strongly of perfumes i did not find appealing, they were pleasant enough.

in-flight entertainment was eclectic, to say the least, and fairly extensive. they even had the pilot episode of Sons of Anarchy on offer, and i momentarily contemplated watching it again just so i could say i flew to iceland with gemma teller morrow. but i did not. i started watching No Strings Attached, the sex comedy with ashton kutcher and natalie portman, but turned it off about 20 minutes in and opted for music instead. it was an overnight flight -- departing toronto at 9:10pm and arriving in iceland at 6:25am -- but i couldn't sleep. at all.

by the time we landed, i was tired but eager to get to my guesthouse. there was still so much i was filing under "unknown" that i wanted to move at least some of it into "known" territory so i could deal with it and proceed.

the customs/immigration portion of my arrival at keflavik (fun fact: pronounced "KEB-la-veek") was insanely quick and inconsequential: i stood in a line for about four seconds, handed my passport to a guy in a booth, watched as he glanced at it and then stamped it and then handed it back… and that was it. after collecting my bag (which was already riding on the carousel), i followed other passengers down a hallway marked "customs -->" and figured, "ah. here's where we'll be stuck for a while."

but i walked through the doors and was stunned to find myself… outside. not outside the building, but outside into the area where you wait to take the bus into town. no customs, just brochure racks and plenty of other travelers.

huh.

i located the ticket booth i needed and lined up. as i stood there, i noticed someone who looked familiar walking past. at first, i couldn't place him, and then i realized, "hey, that's t-po's boyfriend… which must mean t-po is also nearby somewhere." t-po is best pals with dan, of ericanddan and, even though we'd never met before, i'd heard stories of their exploits and seen photos of her on facebook.

within a second, i spotted her and she spotted me. i did one of those, "hey… i know you!" gestures and she said, "vickie!!"

then she came over and gave me a big hug. and, instantly, all my anxiety disappeared. it was as  though all i needed was a friendly face and something somewhat "familiar," and my body and brain went, "oh, everything's gonna be just fine. unclench, you git."

we chatted briefly, i met her fella and then we parted ways.

they were headed to the blue lagoon, i was going directly to my studio apartment.

and, with that, the adventures were underway and i unknowingly began headed towards change...

iceland tales: prologue

over the years, there have been a small handful of moments where i can honestly say i felt the trajectory of my life change. some of those moments were slight and subtle, some more dramatic and most, if not all, of them surprises.

many months ago, after hemming and hawing and dragging my feet about whether to go to iceland, i had one such moment. it happened mere seconds after i swallowed hard, officially booked my ticket and found myself with a confirmed flight for a journey across the ocean in august.

i can't remember if i wrote about it at the time (i probably did), so i apologize if i'm repeating myself, but it was this weird feeling - way down deep in the core of my being - that, in deciding to go and in buying my ticket, i had somehow just reshuffled my cosmic deck and changed the way my life would unfold and the direction it would take. 

it felt as though i'd created tiny ripples that were moving through the universe, and that my tree of life had suddenly just sprouted an entirely new branch that wouldn't have manifested otherwise.

yet, even though i felt like i had set something in motion, i had no idea how it might affect me or when it would happen or what it would look like or what it might mean. just that something, somewhere, somehow was immediately, irreversibly different, and that i'd shifted my future.

i was right.

once in reykjavik, i had another such moment. it was immediate and profound and nearly knocked me over. in a heartbeat, i realized just how far those spring ripples had traveled and how important it had been for me to say "yes" to opportunity.

more later.

before i begin with my icelandic tales, let me just say...

... it's really gross when you return to your desk at the office after a week away to discover that the lunkheaded boy who was using it in your absence left a big mess behind.

there were short, dark hairs everywhere, as though he'd shaken out his hair brush.

hair.

HAIR.

and spilled-coffee stains.

and smelly garbage in my recycling bin.

and my notepad was missing.

and my best pen had mysteriously dried up completely.

WTF?

so, my first 15 minutes back at work yesterday were spent cleaning and decontaminating after pigpen.

lots and lots of stjories

i'm home!

the trip was amazing. soul-nourishing. life-changing in a number of ways.

and i'm feeling a little overwhelmed (in a good way) by it all.

i have so much writing to do about my adventures -- the wedding, the places i went, the things i saw, the people i met and, of course, feelings -- but i'm still decompressing and processing it all.

there's enough material for umpteen blog entries and i'll be writing a slew of 'em.

please stand by...

4100+ km, onwards to the arctic circle

i leave for reykjavik in just over an hour.

in less than 12 hours, i will be in iceland.

o.

m.

g.

my stomach is doing somersaults.

(not necessarily in a good way.)

i probably won't be updating the blog while i'm away,

so stories will have to wait until i return.

packing

* i love packing cubes. they come in all different sizes, and you can cram huge amounts of stuff into their comparatively tiny spaces.

* i finished 2/3 of my packing yesterday. i finally decided on a wedding outfit, and one for the rehearsal dinner. i packed my thermals (yay!) and warm socks and mittens.

* the current weather forecast for this week in reykjavik is cloudy with showers every day, with a high temperature (so far) no greater than 56ºF. ask me how happy i am. VERY!

* the above information also means that, tomorrow morning, i will be unpacking and repacking some of what i packed yesterday.

* tomorrow, i will also pack my knapsack, camera gear and everything else.

* i've booked my car, confirmed all my arrival details with the proprietor of the studio apartment i'll be renting, printed out tons of maps and am, at present, organizing all my paperwork in the order i'll need it.

* on tuesday afternoon, outside the reykjavik lutheran free church (the white church with the green roof), i have a date to meet up with ericanddan and see them for the first time in three years. :-)

misery loves company... and so does anxiety!

months ago, my therapist and i discussed the phenomenon of free-floating anxiety, and how being anxious (or sad or worried or stressed) about one thing can act like a magnet and draw in anxious energy about all sorts of other things unrelated to whatever was causing the anxiety in the first place.

it then feeds on itself and becomes bigger and bigger and bigger, and gets stronger and stronger and stronger, drawing in more and more anxious thoughts. the more anxiety you feel, the more anxiety you feel.

this happens to me frequently. i'll be anxious about Thing A and, before i know it, my mind has spun into eight thousand directions and i feel scared and worried about Things B through Z.

it happened just before i started work at the office. i was nervous about how it would go and, the more i thought about it and wondered about it and imagined scenarios and tried to predict how it would all go, the more nervous i felt. soon, i was feeling weepy and anxious... not about the job, but about all kinds of other things. i was suddenly worried about my mom, and kyle, and my apartment, and myself. i would suddenly be hit with waves of teary gulping, seemingly out of nowhere and at the most obscure of provocations -- a commercial, a news story, a movie trailer.

talking about this with my therapist and acknowledging the long-engrained patterns i've developed has been helpful. i'm now at least able to recognize when it's happening, which helps slow that vortex. i can step back a bit and say, "okay. what's this really about? is this your free-floating anxiety making you think about every sad and terrible thing that could happen in your life? yep. now, knock it off."

of course, knocking it off is easier said than done and, for me, it's not so much about successfully shutting it off completely but, for starters, learning how to turn down the volume a bit.

i mention all this because i found myself in just such a free-floating-anxiety tornado today, spawned by my pre-travel anxiety. i was feeling all panicky and worried and sad, and it culminated as i was preparing my contact/flight/travel info for YB and my parents. i was composing an email with all my pertinent trip information so they'd know where i am and how to reach me in the event of an emergency, and so that someone would know where i would be on the days when i've booked out-of-town tours.

as i did this, i realized that i'm 40 years old and my emergency-contact people are still my parents. (and trix.) i started down the rabbit hole of "they're all i've got, there's no one else who cares where i am or whether i fall into a fjord, what happens when they're not here anymore?, who's going to care where i am or whether i fall into fjord?, who'd need my contact info?, no one..."

i was a good ways into that dark hold before i managed to catch hold of a root and stop myself from going deeper. the feelings faded, and i busied myself packing my bag and, later, doing some cleaning. so, it's passed for now, and i feel better. it's actually kind of fascinating to observe the cycle as it's happening, and to see how easily i can give myself over to that all-consuming fear.

thankfully, i know a lot of this anxiety is a result of my lack of sleep and fatigue (combined with the stress of travel), and i know it'll fade as the days pass. i do kind of wish my therapist wasn't on summer break right now, though. it's been quite a month since last i saw her.

gettin' close... and other stuff

i leave for iceland in less than four days. four days from right now, i'll already be en route.

tomorrow, i have a slew of things to do. first, i have to finish my review of The Help. then, i have a press screening to attend. then, i'll be returning lil red (it just didn't work out between us, i'm afraid). then it's off to the bank to get traveler's cheques and extra cash.

then i have to pay some bills, get some travel-sized hair product, try on various outfits to finalize what i'll be wearing to the wedding, book the car that will take me to the airport, find out if my mom has a spare pocket-sized rain poncho (the kind that tucks itself into a teensy pouch), buy an extra compact-flash card for YB's camera (i have a 1G and a 2G, but wonder if i'll go photo crazy and need more than that)... and several other things i think i'm forgetting at the moment.

then, on saturday, a full apartment clean and packing. if it turns out my duffel bag winds up to heavy to carry, i'll have to pick up my suitcase from my parents' house and use that. but i'd rather not -- much easier to go with the duffel.

i haven't been sleeping nearly enough lately, so my head feels a bit like a lava lamp. i can feel myself getting increasingly stressed about my impending trip and i'm doing my best to try to keep calm and to focus on all the stuff that will go right instead of everything that could go wrong. as anyone who's ever read this blog knows: i find change very challenging, and this trip is ALL about change.

in other news...

* we had a fire drill at work today. that meant we had a half-hour break at 10am, when the thousands of employees poured out of the compound and went for an extended coffee run.

* my art director friend left a pile of australian chocolate treats and a "bon voyage" card on my desk this morning, which i thought was very sweet.

* i hit the biggest home run yet at the office this afternoon -- i caught a very tiny, but HUGELY important, discrepancy in a coupon code... and everyone from my editor to the clients were thrilled that i spotted it (no one else had) before anything went to print.

* the psycho down the hall was, not surprisingly, belligerent and difficult when the super went knocking on her door yesterday to see if she knew what had happened in the hallway. the psycho claimed she'd just returned from british columbia and had no idea who dumped stuff in the hall. (sure. we believe you.)

* it's fantastically cool in toronto tonight. i'm actually wearing socks and long sleeves!

the psycho down the hall's latest stunt

this morning, when i left for work, i noticed a white powder running all along the baseboards of the hallway on my floor. it looked like it might be detergent, and it ran the length of the hall. i thought maybe the carpets were going to be cleaned, and i was in a rush to get to the office, so i figured i'd call the super if the stuff was still there when i got home.

and it was.

so i called.

she came upstairs about five minutes later and knocked on my door.

i opened it, and she was standing there with a dumbstruck look on her face.

"this is sugar," she said in disbelief.

she said she touched it, and that it had the consistency of sugar or salt. there were sections of it that had obviously had water poured or sprinkled over them, because the sugar in those spots had solidified into clumps firmly embedded into the carpet fibres.

and some were sticky because (probably due to the humidity) they hadn't fully dried.

she and i stood in the hallway, looking at the mess and trying to figure out how to clean it up. the sugar still in powder form would be easy to vacuum, but what about those clumps? i tried picking one off but it was stuck on securely. when i said aloud, "who would do something like this?" (knowing full well that it was the psycho who did it), the super motioned towards the psycho's door.

she went back downstairs to have dinner, and i took out a mini broom i have in a bid to get the sugar away from the exterior walls of my apartment and out from in front of my door. some of it came away fine, but a lot of it will be there until it's steam cleaned.

when i went downstairs to let the super know what i'd done (lest she think the psycho had come out to hide evidence), she told me that the psycho is late on her rent and had been given notice yesterday that her rent was due. so maybe that set her off.

either way, the super is PISSED. and so am i.

but i'm also scared, and i don't like that. i don't like not feeling secure in my own home (let's not forget that this is the same psycho who tried to set fire to the building two months ago). i don't like worrying about whether i'm safe, or whether something awful is going to happen to me or my apartment, or whether the psycho is really going to snap one day and take us all out with a shotgun or a flamethrower or heaven knows what.

for now, for the record, some photos of her handiwork:

nice, huh?

i'm considering emailing the photos to the property management office with a subject line like "vandalism in the building." i know the super will contact them tomorrow, but they need to SEE what the psycho did.

thanks, mercury

this weekend was an exercise in poor retail decisions and enormous amounts of effort and angst expended to right those shopping wrongs. it was, for the most part, a mess, and i woke up this morning stressed and tired and frustrated. there were second thoughts and hemming and hawing and regrets.

later, at the office, i was lamenting all this to my art director friend when it suddenly hit me.

"wait... is it possible that mercury could be in retrograde right now??????"

we googled.

AND IT IS.

through to nearly the end of the month.

worst of all, on my way to the subway this morning, i was hit with the deeply horrifying realization that i did not take a single photo yesterday.

not a one.

nothing.

i quickly pulled out my camera to doublecheck, hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe, i was wrong and i actually had taken a shot -- of anything! -- on sunday. but i hadn't.

amid all the pre-trip stress and shopping mayhem, i had, for the first time since january 1st, not taken a photograph.

and my photo-a-day blog would, therefore, suddenly have a big, gaping black hole of nothing.

i'd broken my streak. and i'm not exaggerating when i say i nearly started to cry. i was crushed. keeping up the photo-a-day run was the ONE thing i'd managed to do successfully every single day for more than 200 days... and i ruined it.

i felt a wave of failure wash over me. it might sound silly or melodramatic, but keeping that blog properly was something of which i'd been very proud and, in many ways, represented a turning tide for me. it was consistent, and steady, and creative. so, missing a day is, for me, huge.

and it sucks.

and mercury is in retrograde.

and it figures.

update: if the shoes fit

i'm taking the keen hikers back tomorrow. i just can't justify keeping them for the price i paid, considering i'm very much "settling" where they're concerned.

plus, today, i stumbled upon these:

they're temple peak hikers from my old friends at teva. i have long loved tevas, and their flip-flops are all i wear all summer long. i used to own their sandals, and i have a pair of their water shoes, which are great. nevermind that the two founders of keen used to work for... that's right... teva. (which is probably why i love their shoes, too.)

this morning, as mom and i trucked around on a shopping outing, i saw these boots for the first time. i was intrigued. i picked one up. it felt light. i liked the funky, retro-ish style, and the fact that they don't look like running shoes.

i pulled a box from the shelf, opened it to size up the boots... and tried them on.

they fit. really well. and they were SO comfy. and SO light! 100% waterproof. spider rubber. 

did i mention they feel like they weigh nothing?

but... they were slightly above my budget. and i didn't want another scenario where i buy a pair of shoes, take 'em home and immediately realize i made a mistake. so i decided to sleep on it.

which is what i will do.

but i'm very very tempted to go and get me a pair tomorrow as soon as the keens are back at the store where i bought them, and my credit card has its money back.

and, in other news, lil red is charging as i type this.

buyer's remorse

sometimes, when i make a purchase, i regret it even before i've left the store. this happened again yesterday.

i've been looking for keen hiking boots for months. but they're hard to find in toronto and, when one does find them, they're usually waaaay overpriced. boots that are $120 in the states are, inexplicably, $170 here. and, with one exception, i've never paid more than $100 for a pair of keens. (and, on that one exceptional occasion, they came to, i think, $106.)

so it was that, yesterday morning, i bought a pair of keen targhee II mids. men's. i'd wanted targhee II mids since i began my quest, but had been disappointed by the poor colour selection available in stores. namely: everything was a variation on poo brown. not surprisingly, when i stumbled upon a pair that wasn't poo brown yesterday, i temporarily got carried away.

i wanted a pair that looked like this:

or this:

or, in my dreams, this:

i could see myself hiking over rugged terrain, walking in forests and exploring all over iceland in any of the above boots. they're gorgeous! but i'd never seen any of those pretty colour combinations in person.

so, yesterday, i got these:

cue: disappointed-trombone slide.

at first, i was dazzled by the neon orange trim. it blinded me to the fact that these boots are DARK. the official colour is listed as "dark shadow," but it might as well be "black."

yes, they're functional and fine but, for a gal with size 10 feet, they look a bit like dark, enormous, leaden weights stuck on the ends of my scrawny legs. and they were not cheap. they were well over $100. it pained me to pay for them, but i rationalized that i need these boots now, and that i can't afford to wait for the possibility that jazzier colours will arrive.

but i think i'm going to return them tomorrow. i don't know that i can justify their cost, considering i don't love them. if i'm going to shell out that much cash, i want it to be for something i can't wait to wear, not something i wear because i couldn't find anything else.