Chez nous, a Paris

Saturday was a long day, a travel day. Our four-hour flight from Reykjavik to Paris was smooth and uneventful, and we were met at the airport by a driver arranged through our apartment rental company. We rented a one-bedroom flat in the 5th arrondissement on the Left Bank. We were immediately charmed by it: wide-plank hardwood floors, five floor-to-ceiling windows in the corner living room, 5th (4th in France) story views of the neighborhood. The kitchen is complete with a washer/dryer combo and an oven/microwave combo, so French.

Matt had no trouble getting comfortable in our Paris flat.

We settled right into the flat and decided to stay in for the evening, but we needed food. So I ventured out and inadvertantly stumbled on the rue Mouffetard street market...a narrow cobblestone street lined with every sort of vendor: frommagerie, boulangerie, charcuterie, chocolatier. I came home laden with fresh (still warm) baguettes, brie, camembert, chevre, poulet roti, jambon serrano, fresh eggs, raspberries and figs. It may have been one of the best dinners I've had.

So many cafes, how to choose?

The coolest warmest darkest light place on earth

Being a bitter, jaded 34-year-old, it’s not often (if ever) that I find myself sincerely saying the words, “This is one of the coolest places I have ever been in the world.” I was sitting in the Blue Lagoon, in the cerulean glowing white waters. They were a perfect 37 to 39 degrees celcius. The weather was nasty...cold, gray, driving winds, harsh icy rain. But it made the environment of the lagoon so much better by contrast. The wind swirled the mist around the lagoon and the surrounding lava landscape, visibility was no more than 10 feet in front of your. Matt got a Viking beer from the lagoon bar, and I gave myself a facial with the silica mineral mud from the bottom of the lagoon. I stood under the waterfall, offering “hydraulic massage.” You had to be careful to avoid the steam vents, the sudden blast of near-boiling water could be a bit of a shock. The silica and minerals coated the sides of the lava pool creating a smooth, white layer and natural benches to lounge on.

Upon entering the Blue Lagoon Clinic, we were given blue wristbands with a chip in them. You wore this wristband and used it for everything from locking your locker to buying a beer in the lagoon. The entire spa was clean, modern, and austere. No trappings of Great Wolf Lodge or anything else an American-style spa or water park would try to shove down your throat and force you to be cheerful. My only regret is I wasn’t able to take any photos of us in the lagoon, because the wind and driving salty mists would not have been kind to my camera or lens.

We lounged and floated and circled the lagoon for a couple of hours, and finally had to drag ourselves and our pruny fingers out of the waters and head back to our hotel for dinner. We were spending the night at the Northern Lights Inn, the only hotel near the Blue Lagoon. It also had the advantage of being halfway between Reykjavik and the airport, making an easier early-morning transfer to Keflavik for our flight to Paris. The hotel was great, except for when Matt opened the window in the middle of the night and invited the sulphur smell into our room. 

Most unusual view from a hotel room

But they offered free transfers to and from the lagoon, as well as a free breakfast and ride to the airport in the morning. We ate in the hotel restaurant, looking out over the lava fields at the geothermal power plant and the surrounding mists and fog. It was definitely the most other-wordly place I have ever been, made even more surreal when “White Christmas” cycled through the restaurant muzak. Unforgettable. 

Tolting, finally

Riding a horse in Iceland has long been on my List of Important Things to Do, and today I finally got to do it. For those of you who didn’t grow up as horsey-obsessed girls who studied and memorized every detail of everything horse, Icelandic horses are a small, hardy breed of horse. They are notable for having five gaits instead the usual four horse gaits. The fifth gait is called a tolt, and it incredibly smooth yet fast. It must have been perfect for carrying early Viking settlers and later sheep farmers and herders long distances across the rocky, lava-covered terrain of Iceland. Icelanders are incredibly proud of their horses. And according to me, the best way to see any countryside is on horseback. Hiking, schmiking. Horseback is where it’s at.

The horse farm, Laxnes, picked us up from our hotel in the morning. At the farm, we were outfitted in bright orange rain gear (a la Deadliest Catch), helmets, and boots. 


I seemed to be the only one with any significant horsey experience, and I was assigned to a sweet dark brown mare name Liperta (“twinkle toes.”) Matt got a big gentle bay, Trolli (“giant.”) Finally, it was time to go. Liperta and I fell right into line behind the lead guide, and for the next couple of hours I was completely happy, there was nowhere else I wanted to be. I didn’t even mind the freezing driving rain or the sheets of wind that came out of nowhere. We crossed streams and cantered up hills and took a rest break so guides could smoke and the horses could graze. I tried really really hard to ignore the other tourists, like the squealing Canadian girl (“My horse won’t listen to me! He won’t stop!”) We’re all trying not to listen to you, dear. And the stuck-up English woman who kept crowding me, although Liperta solved that by aiming a swift kick towards her horse. I could have ridden all day but too soon it was time to head back. 

We had planned to take a walk in the afternoon to the Perlan, but a nap fit in better to my day. We wandered into the streets of Reykjavik as the night life was just starting up, and it a different city.

Iceland Day 1

Yesterday (and the day before?!) were very a long day(s).  It was made even more surreal by the fact that every time we turned on the TV, from before we left Seattle on Tuesday afternoon until we finally went to bed on Wednesday night, there was a miner in Chile being pulled out of the mine. Lather rinse repeat.

Blurry Iceland morning, on the bus from Keflavik to Reykjavik

The flight here from Seattle was smooth an uneventful, the engines on the 757 even worked (much to Matt's surprise) and we had the exit row, so my legs were happy and stretched out and comfortable. We landed at Keflavik at 0645 then caught the Flybus, Reykjavik Excursion's airport transfer coach bus. The airport is 50 kilometers from Reykjavik so aside from renting a car it's your only option. I had booked our tickets online, and I'm glad I did, because the bus was packed. Just when you think you've escaped Seattle, you land in Reykjavik during Iceland Airwaves music festival and find yourself in a sea of skinny-jeaned flannel-shirted hipsters. Ah well. Let's just say the minibus to the hostel was even more packed and we were not on it.

Our hotel, Hotel Centrum. An example of the corrugated aluminium seen everywhere.

Our room at our hotel, Hotel Reykjavik Centrum, was the first stop on the bus once we hit the city, and we were able to check in early. I love the hotel, it's centrally located right near the square in the "old town" and it's modern and clean and comfortable. I can't say it's quiet since Icelanders enjoy quite a night life, and our room was over the restaurant, but thanks to the wonders of ear plugs I don't even mind. 

After a breakfast buffet we had a brief nap, then walked around the town center to orient ourselves and enjoy our first pyksur, Icelandic hotdog. Icelanders are really fond of their hotdogs, and I know you'll ask why, to which I must respond, "Why not?" 

We did not partake of the ice cream at the same food stand, although I'm sure it was good too, there was something about the name that put me off. I know you nurses get me. 


To our great delight, it turns out that on Wednesdays the museums in Iceland are free! We went to the National Museum on the University of Iceland campus and then to the Culture House. The Culture House had a really great photography exhibit, photos of everyday Icelanders.


Dinner was at the Fish Market, right next door to our hotel. Matt did a shot of the national beverage, Brennevin, which he declared, 'Well, it didn't taste like licorice, which is always bonus." He also tried the minke whale sashimi, which to me was a weird combination of beef and tuna. All in all, it was a whale of a good time. Oh come on, you had to know I'd throw that in there.


We tried really really hard to be champs and stay up till at least 9:00pm to be able to sleep through the night and wake up truly Icelandic-time, but I don't think either of us saw 8:34 pm. And there were still miners coming out of the ground. 

Packing our bags...

I'm dusting off this old travel blog which has sadly been dormant since our last big adventure to the United Kingdom. We've a few local trips and adventures since then, long weekends to Vancouver BC, the Oregon coast, and Victoria BC, which I should have documented and blogged here but you'll have to satisfy your need for vicarious armchair travel here and here and here instead.

Last spring I said, "Let's go to Paris in the fall," and Matt said, "Ok." Then I did a bit of poking about on the interwebs and said, "Hey, if we fly on Icelandair we can add a stopover in Reykjavik for a couple of nights plus break up the long flight that way," and Matt said, "Oh! There were Vikings in Iceland. Ok." I'm paraphrasing of course, that's the gist of it, how idea for this trip was born. We'll fly to Reykjavik, and spend three nights there exploring the city, riding Icelandic horses across lava fields, and relaxing in the Blue Lagoon with a Brennivin. Then we'll go on the Paris, where we have an apartment in le quartier latin waiting for us. It will be our home base for strolling along le Champs Elysee, museum hopping, and sipping le vin rouge in sidewalk cafes for eight nights. Then it's back home to Seattle, to a plethora of home improvement projects and the battle of puppy house-training awaits us.