Smoke On The Water

On our fourth day in Iceland, we finally decided to spend the day in Reykjavik and explore the capital a bit. It's the only city in Iceland -- the only place with a population over 100,000 -- but it's by no means a particularly large place. Still, with 120,000 residents, it encompasses over a third of Iceland's 318,000 peoples.

Its downtown can almost be described as idyllic, full of small restaurants, cafes, and shops, plus an occasional bar or two. Reykjavik's name translates roughly into Bay of Smoke, taken from the steam its founders saw rising from the many geothermal pools in the area. And indeed, the city has several geothermal spas still dotted throughout its neighborhoods (much cheaper than the tourist-ridden Blue Lagoon, but presumably a little more basic and focused in its amenities). Much of the city is in fact powered by geothermal waters and hydroelectricity, making it one of the greenest cities in the world.

On weekend nights, once most tourists have retreated back to their hotels and midnight has come and gone, the locals begin to flood the streets as cafes turn into bars and bars turn into clubs. Lines spill out of numerous establishments and though the crowd gets a bit Eurotrashy for my tastes, it's hard to argue against the sudden liveliness that overtakes the normally quiet (relative to New York or Los Angeles, anyway) city.

The food is on the fairly expensive side, but is not without its own unique character and qualities. Lamb is a common dish, and usually done well. Seafood is also unsurprisingly abundant, and, as such, it is equally convenient to find both good and bad kinds of it (Fiskfélagið, or FishCompany, is especially good). One thing that remains consistent, though, is the quality of the bread and water. I don't know if I was reading too much into my meals, but it seemed no matter how good or bad of a restaurant I ate at, the bread (and we're talking the complimentary stuff here, nothing fancy) and tap water were great. The obvious conclusion would be that good water = tastes great = makes great flour for baking bread. I can accept the first half of that equation, but I swear there's something more in the baking, too, that's doing strange and wondrous things for their crusts.

Anyway.

We spent the day meandering about from place to place, with only occasional destinations in mind. We started with breakfast.

This statue of Leifr Eiricsson stands in front of Hallgrímskirkja Cathedral, the tallest building in Iceland, and was actually a gift from the United States back in 1930. Look at us, all generous-like.

All you need for a park is some trees, some benches, and a sheep cutout-thing.

Cold lens + warm coffeeshop = natural radial blur!

Specially sourced beans from two farms in Colombia, one owned by Luis, and the other by Maria (whose names you might be able to make out on these bags).

Kris actually freaked out a bit when we chanced across the place (Kaffismiðja) because we'd been looking for it a few days earlier and hadn't been able to find it. She had to blog journal about it.

Any place with a record collection that includes Miles is good with me.

Lot of American tastes abound in the city.

Among other things, Reykjavik is known for its pylsurs, or hot dogs. It's a standard dog sitting atop a bed of diced raw and crunchy fried onions, topped with a mustard gravy and another ketchup-esque sauce. I would've taken a picture but it was raining and frankly, I was hungry. Great as a snack or meal, midday or middle of the night. The distinctive red stands dot the city, and this one had tacked a picture of Bill Clinton stopping by on the wall inside.

Mountains across the bay.

This also happened.

Permanent souvenirs! Don't tell my mom, if you see her before I do.

Then we picked up a rental car for a planned drive the next day. Since we had it, we figured we'd drive out again to try to find the Northern Lights. Here Roy does his best Ryan Gosling impression.

You already know how the hunt turned out. Still, there's something to be said for the search.