Re-gales in Reykjavik

Since I have only just been acquainted with Reykjavik, and the first meeting was under a compressed time frame and under the influence of sleep deprivation, it's perhaps a bit premature to publish my view of it.  However, since my opinion is already very favourable, I'm sure it won't mind too much...

Reykjavik is so small that it seems it shouldn't really be a capital city - the town centre is composed pretty much of just one main street and a high street.  But its quirky charm won me over; Reykjvavik can be whatever it wants to be, it's so lovely.  With peculiar bookshops and cafés nestled at nearly every corner, the only thing unwelcoming about the city was the 40 mph wind buffeting us around all day.  I arrived at the hostel around half 7 in the morning, and as soon as I got out of the van I was very glad I had brought a big poof of a jacket rather than opting for a more streamlined pile of layers - the wind here is seriously cold.  But, always the trooper, I persevered and spent the day walking around the city with three of the other interns.  Because none of us are able to pronounce the road names yet, never mind understand what they mean, once we familiarised ourselves with the area directions were then given using landmarks.  The two-headed lamb proved handy for this task.

Here's looking at ewe, kids...

There's still much to see on subsequent visits, but we were able to soak up Laugavegur (the main road in the city; the name means "Wash Road" because back in the day women would travel it with their washing to take to the hot springs), Hallgrímskirkja ("Church of Hallgrímur", Icelandic poet and clergyman; also the largest church in Iceland and a pretty cool structure, especially at night), and the Perlan ("The Pearl", home of the Saga museum and ridiculously strong winds on the observation deck).

Hallgrímskirkja. Yer man is Leif Eriksson, a thank you present from the US for having discovered them.

So far the best things for me were the oddities.  We stumbled upon this bookshop - we think it was a bookshop, though none of the books were priced - that was some sort of nostalgic shrine to a well-read communist childhood.  Besides the teetering piles of literally thousands  of books, there were old dolls perched here and there on top of book clusters, and quite a few faded framed portraits of Stalin.  If it was a personal collection then the owner didn't seem to mind us there; he remained behind his desk, hidden from view by a few towers of yellowed paperbacks, reading away.

Walking around the streets at night, the shop windows were all done up nicely as well.  Many are still decked out for Christmas as the festive season doesn't officially end here until the sixth of January, which is the twelfth night and the departure of the Yule Lads.  

We finished up the night in a pub called the "Dubliner" listening to an Icelandic man singing Beatles and Neil Young covers (yes, it was an Irish-themed pub, but the only reason we went there was for the live music), and I got to sample the local drink.  It's called Brennivín, or "Fire Wine", and it was introduced just after the Prohibition was lifted here in 1935.  I had heard warnings about the stuff - its nickname is svarti dauði or "Black Death"- and the snickers coming from the barstaff when I ordered it indicated that I was showing myself to be a very big tourist indeed, but I actually really liked the taste: a bit clovey and quite nice mixed with coke.  

Another pleasant surprise I had was with regard to the daylight.  At the moment Iceland gets around four hours of daylight, so I was expecting a lot of bleak trudging around in the darkness.  However, dawn and dusk both last about an hour each, which extends the amount light significantly; furthermore, they've both been breaktaking so far.  Imagine a particularly beautiful sunrise or sunset, now extend that by around three or four times the duration.  Not so bad after all, eh?  

Tomorrow we head to Sólheimar; check back in for the update on that!

More photos can be seen here.