Monday, 12 January 2015

We come to the land of ice and snow....

After a whirlwind visit to Reykavik, I can honestly say that, based on first impressions and bearing in mind we have only just scratched the surface of what the country has to offer, it seems to be a very interesting and civilised place. Unfortunately, with the flight times at euther end of our stay being as they were, we only had two days to do things which left us pretty much confined to the capital (apart from a couple of trips, more of which later). A few points from those two days...

- The centre of the capital is intimate in size: we walked pretty much everywhere and the shopping district rubs shoulders with the administrative and cultural centres which, in turn, lay hard up against private houses. There is not the same separation that one finds in larger capitals where there are districts separate the different functions within the city. Imagine walking out of Harrods in London and finding next door to it a modest two or three bedroom house. The beautifully geometric and (at night) spectacularly-lit concert hall is right next door to the working port stocked with oily fishing vessels. It is a strange mix and one that seems to seems to indicate the 'grounded' nature of the country. They have no army or navy, their police, like ours, carry no weapons and their prime minister lives in a house on a main thoroughfare that anyone can walk up to and has no guards posted outside. In fact, the house was the city's first jail. Many will say that we too should house our PM in a jail...

- There was snow on the roads and fresh falls happened throughout our time there. There were no shops that failed to open because people couldn't get to work and services kept running normally. This was not achieved through gritting, chains on car tyres or snow ploughs. Instead, cars had winter tyres fitted - essentially, tyres with a deeper, grippier tread. Using these, people drove at reasonable speeds (no speeding but neither was there any crawling at 5 miles an hour) and I saw no accidents or even any cars skidding or being in any way out of control. Of course, they probably have ploughs and gritters as backup when the weather gets really bad, but the contrast couldn't be greater: in the UK, the country grinds to a halt as soon as the first smowflake hits the ground.

- The snow itself, however, is rather different. I know you are probably thinking that "snow is snow is snow", right? Well, there has to be a reason why the Innuit have many words for snow - it obviously comes in different 'types' and the type on display in Reykavik I can only describe as 'dry'. When Elaine picked a handful of snow up with the (leter admitted) purpose of snowballing me, she found that it could not be compacted into a ball. As she released her hands from shaping the weapon, the snow just fell apart almost into separate flakes once more! I could only think the difference is that, in the UK, there is a greater degree of 'wetness' to the snow and it is this that 'welds' the snow into a ball when moulded. Lacking that moisture, the ball would not coalesce and I was therefore saved from having cold drips down the back of my neck! The fact that the snow had this property also affected walking...

- The pavements, though not usually gritted or cleared, remained pretty safe as the snow seemed much harder to melt together into lethal ice fields. I am not saying there were no slips at all: although I did not see what happened, at least three tourists we encountered in the course of the break (unfortunate word) had suffered from some slipping trauma. As a fairly recent recipient of an ankle break from a slippy surface, the amount of snow on 'public surfaces' caused my heart to sink when I first saw it (hell, the steps down from the plane were coated in snow when we arrived!). Maybe, because of that, I was ultra cautious, however, I felt safer on their streets than I do on the slides that we end up with here whenever we get snow. Amazingly, E stayed on her feet throughout also!

- Eggy showers. Hot water in the hotel came from geothermal sources and is piped straight into the hotels (and, I believe, private houses) for use in showers and heating etc. Perfectly good hot water but with a slightly disconcerting sulphurous smell. The first shower I had was almost stopped in order for a complaint to be made to the management before I remembered the reason for the smell. Being green sometimes involves a small sacrifice. Or noseplugs. Cold water was lovely, straight from the tap. Volcanic filtered and soft as an angel's kiss (as the Icelandic Tourist Board might say). Bottled water sales are probably pretty slow in Iceland.

- The Northern Lights - although involving a drive out of the city for an hour; standing in a lay-by and a field for an hour and a half (temperature was -6 or -7) only to see nothing; be driving home when the sky clears and there they are, albeit indistinctly; rejoining the coach only to be told "They're back and much better!", getting off once again - were, eventually, a magnificent and eerie sight. A strange green band of light from sky to horizon, moving and changing over time: sometimes a frail, pale green but at other times, intense and almost flourescent in places. It was was really quite magical to be ankle-deep in snow watching a celestial light show of epic prpoportions play out on the night sky.

- The whale watching trip we are counting as 'unfinished business': one potential whale (OK, a fin) seen at some distance means that we need to return to try again. The display by the harbour porpoises almost made up for lack of the larger cetaceans, but - hey! - that's nature as opposed to Disney: things don't happen in line with a rigid timetable. The whale watch company, very fairly, gave us all a raincheck valid for two years. We will be taking them up on their kind offer.

- I tried two new types of fish: tusk and arctic char. It turns out, I was less adventurous than I thought - tusk is a fish of the cod family (although much more plentiful than cod) and char is a fish of the salmon family. What I ended up tasting, therefore, was essentially cod and salmon. Oh well - at least they were beautifully fresh and cooked to perfection.

Overall, a good taster. We have resolved to return for a summer trip (OK, no Northern Lights then, but better whale chances) and to try to see more of the island, maybe by hiring a car. Definitely, a place you should go to!

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