An Icelandic Adventure (I)

We've travelled to Bristol airport on several occasions and it seems to be that Ms Satnav chooses a different route for us to navigate each time. Or possibly Bristol and its environs are like Hogwarts with its moving staircases. 

One route takes us into a toll area. Not a stop and pay at the booth toll, but a 'payline online before you travel' toll, which is fine if you know it's there, less good if it catches you unawares. But this time we were ready and we told Ms Satnav to avoid toll roads. Unfortunately it didn't register with her and we found ourselves scrabbling to change directions just as I'm approaching a roundabout. Daughter pressed all the right buttons and we sailed past must-be-avoided road and carried on until Ms Satnav said, "Turn right in 100 yards."

"Seriously? are you sure? That looks awfully narrow."

She was sure. So I did.

It was west Wales all over again. 

A one-car-wide lane with grass growing down the middle. 

But it got us there without tolls and with the wonderful benefit of watching a beautiful pheasant stroll across in front of us. Yes, it had time to stroll; it wasn't the sort of lane you could do more than 15 mph, at the most. And it really was the most glorious colours.

So, to get to my Icelandic tale proper. Daughter and I travelled on Thursday and returned yesterday, Sunday. We were travelling with Easyjet and Daughter had booked us in with just one small bag each, which was fine apart from the fact we had to wear half our clothes to travel in to save space. Imagine, if you will, squeezing into an airplane seat wearing thermal leggings and vest, a polo neck jumper, a big woolly jumper, jeans and furry boots. Not to mention my specially-bought 'keeps you super warm' coat. (You'll see photos of it later.)

But the flight was good, on time, smooth, and even arriving a little early in Iceland.

From there Daughter had arranged transport for us with the hotel. Looking forward to seeing a man holding up her name in the arrivals lounge she was a little disappointed to be greeted by every name but hers. 

Gradually all the other transporters' passengers arrived and left, leaving us standing there wondering how long we'd have to wait. Eventually Daughter phoned the hotel and was told the driver had been sick for the last two days but they'd get on to him. She and I looked at each other and at the bus booking desk. Daughter called the hotel back, told them not to worry as we'd go on the bus. The idea of travelling in a confined space with a not-very-well driver did not appeal.

But after that, everything went wonderfully, and even those hiccups - lane detour and sick driver - were all part of the adventure. 

On the drive to Reykjavik the bus driver explained that, because the days were so dark in January and February, householders and the council tended to keep their Christmas lights up for longer.

An idea worth copying I think. Though probably expensive for councils do it. Much of Iceland's power is geothermal and cheap.

Iceland is on the same time as us in the winter. They don't change their clocks so in the summer they're one hour behind the UK. So it was already dark when we arrived at the Hotel Centrum.

If you recall I mentioned that the hotel housed the oldest bones found in Iceland. True but to see them you had to pay to go into the Settlement Museum next door, and we chose not to include that in our short stay so didn't see those old bones.

All that remained on Thursday evening was for us to find a restaurant and eat. Daughter's vegetarian and if you just do a quick search of Reykjavik restaurants you would be forgiven for thinking it was all whale, puffin, and lamb. However, while only about 6% of Iceland's population is vegetarian or vegan, Iceland is the number 1 vegetarian friendly country in Europe based on number of vegetarian restaurants per million of the population.

Our first foray into Icelandic veganism was a trip to Mama Reykjavik, a community style café come community centre. A folksy new agey feel, and a warm welcome.

Okay, our choice of food wasn't the most Icelandic but it was delicious and in generous portions. We both chose Mama's curry, made with chickpea, potato, coconut milk, and spices. With garlic wood-fired naan to share. I also couldn't resist a glass of beetroot, pear, and lemon juice.

It was so good we went back again on Saturday night - but more of that later.

I think we have to go to Sainsburys now as the pantry is bare.