Ice, Ice, Baby

Iceland seems to be at the top of everyone’s travel list recently, so when I heard Rødhåd, one of my favorite djs was scheduled for Sónar Reykjavik, I figured it was as good of time as any to cross the land of fire and ice off my list.

Iceland is actually super convenient from New York City. The flight is only about 4-1/2 hours, and Icelandair offers plenty of redeyes at great prices. Pro-tip: they also offer great prices to continental Europe with a stopover in Reykjavik.

The best part about a redeye to Reykjavik is booking a trip to the Blue Lagoon the morning you land. We had plenty of time to clear customs, stock up on duty-free wine, get cash, grab a bite and board a bus directly to the lagoon. We checked our suitcases, and were able to enjoy the spa without worrying about any of our belongings. The hot lagoon was perfect for relaxing, stretching out and working out any tension from trying to sleep like a sardine in a can on the previous night’s flight.

  

It started snowing while we were there, which was beautiful against the volcanic rocks and steam from the lagoon. Admission to the lagoon includes use of silica and algae face masks made from the naturally occurring minerals in the lagoon. I’m not really into beauty products, but when in Rome… I was pleasantly surprised to find they actually cleared up a bit of irritation I’d gotten on the flight.

After a few hours enjoying the lagoon, and the glasses of champagne included in our package, it was time for lunch, which we conveniently enjoyed in our bathrobes. I had been excited to experience the food in Iceland, and it did not disappoint. We had artic char, lamb, blue ling (a local fish), and for dessert, more artic char. Seriously. They served it lightly torched, with horseradish and roe, and it was so good I had to order a second.

 

 

There are buses to Reykjavik every 15 minutes in the afternoon. You just tell the driver which hotel to drop you off at, and get off when they announce your stop. That is, assuming you a.) are awake, b.) can remember the name of the hotel you asked for, and c.) can understand the driver’s heavy accent. Turns out, we failed at all three of those, and ended up having to cab from the main bus terminal in town. Good way to get a quick (albeit fairly pricey) tour of the city, though.

 

Reykjavik is easy to navigate, with one main street running parallel to the water that basically makes up “downtown”. It’s about a 15-minute walk from one end to the other, so even though our airbnb was located out of the central downtown area, it was quick to get to all the bars, restaurants, and Harpa, the music hall that housed Sónar.  Just up from the main street, looming over downtown is Hallgrímskirkja, a massive, tall church. They host tours of the tower, which would provide amazing views of the city, but during the winter they are only open until 4:45pm.

 

We made it to Reykjavik for day 2 of the 3 day Sónar festival. The venue, a giant, futuristic glass building with various colored lights reflecting off it over the harbor provided the perfect ambiance for an electronic music festival.

Unfortunately, with the aforementioned nap, dinner, and general exploring of the city, we made it just in time to catch the last few notes of Floating Points. General exhaustion from poor sleep on the flight that morning started to kick in, and we couldn’t make it to 1am to see any of Squarepusher’s set. Jetlag is a real thing, kids.

In all honesty, we really wanted to rest up for the main event: Rødhåd! The following night, we made sure to arrive at Harpa with plenty of time to secure a prime location for his set, and danced our faces off. I also managed to sneak out for a few minutes to catch a bit of !!! and Boys Noize. Though I’ve been following Boys Noize for a few years now, I was still surprised how large the crowd was to see him – probably 3-4 times as big as the crowd for Rødhåd.

On our way downtown we passed the The Icelandic Phallological Museum, which yes, is exactly what it sounds like. Wait, actually, I’m not sure what exactly that sounds like, but it is, indeed…a museum of penises.

  

And by that I mean the male members of various species, in formaldehyde, on display. It touts itself as the world’s only museum of its kind, and I can’t say I’ve traveled enough to argue about this.

  

For a museum that has a very good sense of humor about itself (the gift shop sells stuffed animals with enlarged penises), it was actually pretty interesting, because who hasn’t wondered what the penis of the world’s largest animal looks like?

I guess it only makes sense that a country that semi-mockingly puts penises on display would also be the most feminist country in the world. I’d heard that pornography had been banned in the country, and even the street art was noticeably feminist. We checked out a “coyote club”, which is basically a watered down strip club, as strip clubs are also illegal there. The club had about a dozen women, decked out in tight dresses and high heels, and a handful of bro-y American tourists. The couple women we talked to were from Italy, and seemed to be (quite) a bit older than girls in American clubs. Instead of offering dances, they asked to be bought drinks. None of them were actually attractive or interesting enough to keep us from moving on quickly.

As I mentioned, I was eager to try all the local delicacies, and was able to get horse, puffin, whale, and the best French onion soup ever at 3 Frakkar, a cozy spot a few blocks off the main street.

 

  

By the location and the number of ice patches we slipped over on the way there, we were hoping for a local gem, but the amount of English overheard at other tables indicated otherwise (the rave reviews on TripAdvisor probably should have tipped us off). Still, the food and service were great, and the ambiance was warm enough to make us momentarily forget the weather outside.

Another standout restaurant was Laekjarbrekka, which is right on the main drag, and frequently referred to as a tourist trap in its Google reviews. It was here that I was lucky enough to try Hakarl, which you may know as the worst thing Anthony Bourdain has ever eaten, or, fermented shark. If you don’t know what fermented means, it means rotten. As in, the shark is buried for 6 – 12 weeks, then hung to dry for up to 5 months, rotten. It is served in an airtight container because the smell is so pungent, and the taste, though perhaps not as dramatic as Mr. Bourdain claimed, certainly did not warrant a second bite.

However, the rest of the meal more than made up for the stinky start, particularly the pork neck, and skyr we had for dessert. The food was actually so good we went back the next day for a second meal. Even now, I would go back to Iceland just for that meal.

    

The most interesting restaurant we tried was Public House.  They served international street food with an Icelandic Twist and had a mixology based drink menu.  This was also the only place I was able to find reindeer, as most places told me it was out of season.  Apparently it is more of a fall / early winter meat.  They served the carpaccio with a little too much sauce, but it was clearly a very tasty meat.

 

Nightlife in Reykjavik is unusual. Unlike New York City where nobody eats at home, eating and drinking out is very expensive in Reykjavik. Happy hours are popular, then everybody disappears. We were told they go home to eat and drink more where it is cheaper, only to emerge around midnight to flood the bars and the surrounding streets. On Saturday night, most bars had unbelievably long lines at 2 in the morning (in the snow!). We were able to make our way into a couple, including Kaldi Bar, a small two-room bar no bigger than my New York City living room. The bartenders were quick, and they had my drink of choice in Iceland: Reyka Vodka. I generally associate vodka with the terrible mixed drinks you end up with at table service in overpriced clubs, but Reyka is so smooth I drank it straight, on the rocks. While there we chatted up locals who were all eager to tell us about Iceland and its history, and to invite us over for a meal. Every Icelander we met was super friendly and welcoming, something very unusual to us coming from New York.

We also visited Lebowski Bar, an American themed bar named after the movie.

Appropriately, they have an entire White Russian menu and a make-shift dance floor in the back, and played American classic rock. And what night out is complete without a late night drunk meal? There is a hot dog stand on the main drag which serves traditional Icelandic hot dogs: teeny hot dogs smothered in fried onions, skyr mayonnaise, mustard and ketchup. I believe these are only edible after many, many Reykas. A little way down, in the park at the end of the main street is a stand that serves far superior dogs, and even have an option to add bacon to your hot dog. Everyone knows bacon makes everything better.

The stand had a tip cup out in support of Leo:

I doubt very much that any of the proceeds went to Leo.

Our stay in Reykajavik was topped off with dinner at Perlan, the giant revolving restaurant above the city’s hot water storage tanks. It allowed a great view of the city and the food was delicious.

  

They misheard our order for an appetizer, and were so gracious and quick to fix the error. We were some of the last people in the restaurant and they humored our orders for more dessert, more drinks, and requests for photos. They even reminded us to check out the faux geyser in the basement on the way out.

 

The next morning (afternoon?) we rented a car and headed out of Reykjavik. We followed the gps navigation through the city, out into the highlands. Word to the wise: if you’re going to drive through Iceland, bring a navigator who can do better pronouncing street names than “lagabablahblah”, because when you’re speeding down an icy road, the last thing you want to be doing is trying to squint at street signs saying “is that it?!” as speed cameras flash in your eyes. Yes, there are speed enforcement cameras, all around the highways. If you’re driving, and you have a rental agency issued gps, the weird alarm that goes off periodically is trying to alert you to an upcoming camera. It took at least 5 camera flashes for me to figure this out (I’m still waiting for my tickets to show up in my mail).

Once we got out of the city, the roads were significantly less populated, and the ice and snow stretched as far as we could see.

 

 

Our first stop was Geysir.

 

The very first geyser documented in Europe, Geysir is actually no longer active, but the neighboring Strokkur (I can’t decide if that’s intentional Icelandic humor) erupts about every 10 minutes.

 

  

A short drive away is Gullfoss, a huge waterfall fed by Iceland’s second largest glacier. It’s one of the most popular tourist attractions in Iceland, but for good reason: it’s absolutely stunning. By the time we made it there the sun was setting, and the walkways were freezing over. Because we were there in February, much of the river and the surrounding areas were frozen over and covered in snow. I was really bummed the pathways closer to the falls had been closed off for the season. It’d be interesting to see what it looks like in the spring or summer.

 

 

The sun started to set and we made the hour trek to our hotel. I was a little worried as the shortest path included smaller roads and I didn’t know if they’d be properly plowed. I live in New York City – I’m not used to driving, let alone driving on snowy mountain roads. Turns out, I didn’t have anything to worry about. The scenery was beautiful and we were able to see horses at a few farms before it got really dark.

  

 

We’d picked our hotel for the night because they offered a wake up service if the Northern Lights appeared, and we were able to get a room with a private hot tub outside, which we imagined would be perfect for viewing the lights. It had been cloudy all day, but started to clear around dinner time and we were excited for the possibility of seeing them. We got into the tub and waited…and waited…and waited. 2 hours and a spilt glass of rose champagne later (shhh…sorry, hotel) we gave up and called it a night. Utter devastation.  At least there was pie.

I was so devastated I spent the entire drive back to the airport trying to find another waterfall, another geyser, anything that could make up for missing the Northern Lights.

I was even less successful in that endeavor, but we did manage to get to the airport in time to request an exit row, and stock up on duty-free Bailey’s, which I then learned you’re not actually supposed to drink on your flight. Two bottles of Bailey’s (sorry, but not sorry, Icelandair), many smuggled cups of ice, and a viewing of True Lies later, we were home, already plotting our return trip to see the Northern Lights.