Iceland Day 2, Part 1: Arrival at Keflavik airport, Rekyjavik exploration

6:45 am.  It’s pitch black outside as we touch down in Iceland.  The plane flight took us up and around in a northeasterly curve, flying first into deep twilight, and then full-on night.

Customs is a fast and groggy affair.  We fight our way outside, leaning against icy rain droplets and blistering wind to the bus pickup area.  It’s a 40 minute drive and still dark outside, so we close our eyes and rest.

Between a bus transfer point for other riders, and stops at different hotels, it’s almost 9 am by the time we’re at the Hilton Reykjavik Nordica.  The sky has gradually grown lighter, giving way to spartan, businesslike buildings and a flat landscape.  The combination evokes thoughts of the American Midwest, were it to be combined with Scandinavian-inspired architecture and a generous helping of umlauts and other diacritics.

The hotel lobby is an impressive thing, boasting a statement-making spiral staircase, huge lobby with oversized couches and chairs, bar with a lounge, and a good-sized restaurant as well.  We check in and are able to upgrade Audrey’s room to make her a little more comfortable with the broken leg and crutches.  Everyone is feeling hungry, tired, and grumpy, so we grab some surprisingly good food from the breakfast buffet, set up our cellphones with the SIM cards purchased aboard the flight, and turn in for a nap. 

What was supposed to be a one-hour nap becomes two, thanks to blackout curtains and the white noise of blustery, whistling wind outside our window.  Jason and I finally haul ourselves out of bed and freshen up.  No sign of John and Audrey – they’re still sleeping off the jetlag – so we set out around 2 pm to walk to the Reykjavik city center.  The cold wind and prickle of raindrops wakes us up.  While the weather isn’t the snow, ice, and below-freezing temperatures we expected, it isn’t unfamiliar; we are from Seattle, after all.

The area around the Hilton is fairly uninteresting and businesslike, but after about 15 minutes of walking, the sparse and serious buildings near the hotel transition into the outskirts of the city proper, giving way to convenience stores, vintage secondhand shops, bookstores, cafes, and, yes, even the Phallological museum.  The closer we get to the city center, the more colorful the buildings become.  We pass several interesting design shops, stocking anything from neon candlestick holders, woolen blankets, and reshapeable Japanese paper vases, to traditional English blue china and other household tzotchkes. 

A TripAdvisor decal in a coffee shop window catches my eye – Te & Kaffi.  It’s got a cute and narrow interior, a whole bevy of tasty looking baked goods, and an illustrated menu on the wall depicting the coffee-to-milk ratios of various popular drinks - latte vs. breve vs. cappucino.  I go for my old standby, a vanilla latte; Jason, always game for chocolate, opts for a Swiss “mokka”, which comes with a luxurious cap of whipped cream and cocoa powder.  

Sadly, the decaf coffee isn’t freshly ground but comes from a canister, so I switch to regular at the last moment and hope for the best.  We’re in luck; the drinks are absolutely  delicious, and, as an added bonus, my fears about coffee jitters end up being unfounded.

Just up the street and around the corner from the coffee shop, we peer down an alleyway and find it opens up into a graffiti-filled back alley-turned-playground.  

A peeling, yellow rocking horse on a spring careens dangerously to one side, beady black eye peering disinterested out and over the brightly colored walls.

Some kids are crawling around on the buildings and exploring as we snap photos, discussing whether or not they should explore inside one of the ominous-looking open doorways up on the second floor (they don’t, and neither do we.)

Tucked inside a doorway, a grimy, once-white Ikea bookcase declares: "Free stuff most".  Various oddments perch inside the shelves.

We continue walking past more design shops and through to the Old Harbour, passing the library/photography museum, Kolaportið flea market, catch a glimpse of the impressive Harpa Concert Hall up the street, and walk by Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur, an historic hot dog stand known for having some of the best hot dogs in Reykjavik, Iceland, and, by some, in the world.

But no hot dogs for now – saving that treat for when our friends are with us.  Peering at our map, we find a cluster of buildings closer to the harbor and Saegreiffin, or “The Sea Baron”, which is known for its delicious "lobstersoup".  It arrives steaming hot in mugs, accompanied by a basket chock full of sourdough bread and rich, yellow Icelandic butter.  (As in Ireland, "grass-fed" when it comes to dairy and meat isn't a buzzword; it's simply the way things are.  And if you aren’t a believer, you’ll almost assuredly be one after trying some for yourself.)

At the bottom of the mugs, sweet and tender lobster (which, here, is a bit of a cross between a large shrimp and a small lobster), plus a few chunks of carrot and celery.  This is not gourmet lobster bisque – it’s simpler, lighter, more brothy; something you could see a fisherman coming back to at the end of a long day.  The mood is perfectly set by the quirky nautical décor.  

We settle in to people-watch for a while, beginning to absorb that we are, really and truly, now in Iceland.