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.
