How to Increase Your Understanding of Setting When You Travel, Part 3
When we drove into Reykjavik late on Friday night, we entered a new phase of our trip. Outside the city, the dramatic landscapes felt expansive; however, walking through the narrow European streets of Iceland’s capital seemed smaller, cozier, and introspective. I’d also encounter some synchronicity.
After we picked up the key to our AirB&B at the bus station and hauled our luggage up the stairs and into our flat, Jeff, Jeff, and I ventured out into the night to find a bar. We ended up at Dillon Whiskey Bar, where we sampled Brennivín, Iceland’s signature liquor made from fermented potato mash and flavored with caraway seeds. It’s a schnapps, basically. For our second round, we drank Viking Lager and stood near the window. Peering through the glass, I saw a stationery shop across the street, closed for the night, and watched a couple greet a group of people they knew and have a conversation. Turning my attention back to the bar, I noticed the DJ, an older woman with long gray hair who sat on a tall podium. She flipped through a CD case and perused the contents with a magnifying glass. On the wall behind her hung a picture of a younger her with Robert Plant. She played an eclectic mix of music that was heavier on selections from the sixties with songs from other decades thrown in the mix. Patrons would approach her with drinks and pay homage, bowing to her and kissing her hand or cheek. When the DJ played “Big Mouth Strikes Again” by The Smiths, the patrons packed the dance floor. I was impressed that the crowd seemed to be mostly people in the forty-sixty range, with a few folks in their thirties. Many seemed familiar with one another, so I wondered if they met here every Friday night. It was already past midnight. Moreover, I was impressed that they seemed to know the words to all the songs the DJ spun, be The Beatles, Bob Dylan, or The Smiths.
Most Icelandic beds are minimalist, with a sheet and down duvet. It might appear to be light for a country so far north, but the down duvets kept us especially warm. We ate a quick breakfast and loaded Jeff and Kim’s bags in the car on our way to the Blue Lagoon, a geothermal spa between Reykjavik and the airport in Keflavik. As romantic as the Blue Lagoon sounds, it’s humanmade and utilizes runoff from the nearby Svartsengi geothermal power station. The water
After a short nap, we ventured out into Reykjavik. I loved the small houses painted in bright colors. We stopped into a small coffee shop. Kim and Jeff recommended called Babalu and enjoyed a chai tea, brownie, latte, and chocolate chip cookie. I observed a younger man with an older man with British accents order a coffee, tea, and apple crumb with powdered sugar. The younger man seemed to be accompanying his grandfather on this trip to document his memories. It was one of many overheard conversations that acted as story prompts in my imagination.
We meandered down the street, ducking into souvenir shops and a photographer’s store filled with prints of his whimsical work. As we moved further down the avenue, we soon realized we were on Rainbow Street. The bricks painted in strips of primary colors support diversity. As I was taking photos, a small child escaped from his father and made bongo feet toward me at the bottom of the hill. For some reason, this he really amused me.
Jeff searched for a small jar of Icelandic honey, as we had seen in the gift shop at Gulfoss, Iceland’s equivalent of Niagra Falls, for his dad. I rarely buy souvenirs. No one I know needs another magnet or t-shirt. I considered purchasing an Icelandic wool sweater. I realized that with Atlanta’s mild winters, though, I’d be lucky to wear it once or twice a year for the unexpected cold snap. Jeff wanted pizza, so we dined in an Italian restaurant. The wood fire pizzas were delicious. Our server didn’t have an Icelandic accent. We asked if. he was originally from Iceland; It turned out he was born in Alabama and had dual citizenship thanks to an American mother and Icelandic father. We went back to the AirB&B to nap before heading to experience more of Reykjavik’s nightlife.
After midnight, we walked a few blocks to Kiki, Reykjavik’s sole gay bar. He had seen it in one of the Nordic Nights vlogs. I had read that bars are mixed in Iceland because they’re so accepting of the LGBT community. We entered Kiki and went upstairs to the bar and dance floor. Everyone was well-dressed with stylish haircuts. Except for the woman sucking a man’s face and entwining both arms and one leg around him like some vampiric octopus, it was hard to say who was gay or straight. It didn’t matter because we came to dance. The DJ was definitely in a nineties flashback mood because Destiny’s Child followed the Backstreet Boys, which were followed by the Spice Girls and Britney Spears. It was fun to move and work up a sweat, but the DJ soon began playing Ibiza anthems of the naughties, which an old club friend used to as euro trash muzak. We took a break and watched people a while before the DJ revisited late-eighties Italo house (“Ride on Time” by Black Box) and early-nineties Belgium rave (“Get Ready for This” by 2 Unlimited). We were about to leave when I heard the familiar opening guitar of “Venus” by Bananarama. Everybody packed the floor. It was a bit of a second act for me because when I had played the music video at my MTV 80s Video Dance Party a week earlier, our porch swing broke away from the supports in the ceiling and crashed to the porch. What can I say? Sara, Keren, and Siobhan can still bring down the house.
On Sunday, we thought we’d grab a coffee and a pastry on the walk to the National Museum of Iceland. Unfortunately, our path took us through a mostly residential neighborhood, so we ended up eating breakfast at the N1 gas station. Still, the way the morning autumn light filtered through the treetops onto the streets and buildings provoked my imagination as to what it would be like to wake up every morning and walk out of one of these houses or buildings.
We bought a 48-hour City Pass at the museum. I enjoyed the National Museum. We learned about Pike Ward, an English fish merchant with a fondness for Iceland at the turn of the nineteenth century, who helped improve the quality of life for many Icelandic fishermen. We also learned about Iceland’s history. The Vikings settled, and volcanos erupted. Iceland established the oldest surviving parliament before agreeing to rule by first Norway and then Denmark. Paganism was replaced by Catholicism, which was replaced by Lutheranism and a few beheadings. A convent and monasteries came and went. Sheep, wool, and fishing grew as industries. Iceland regained its independence after World War II, and then Björk wore the infamous swan dress at the seventy-third Academy Awards, and that pretty much sums up the history of Iceland.
We stopped into The Settlement Exhibition of Iceland, which was included in our City Pass ticket. I doubt I would have suggested we go inside otherwise; however, it proved to be an informative, interactive exhibit. It’s built around the remains of an early longhouse that had been discovered at a construction site years before.
We stopped in the hotel next door for a relaxing late lunch of fish and chips as part of a two-for-the-price-of-one promotion. It proved to be a smart choice because it was one of the best meals during our trip. The fish wasn’t too greasy. The chips had more flavor than the other fries we tasted in Iceland. I tried a blackberry cider that tasted much better than I anticipated.
We made our way down to Tjörnin Pond and snapped photos of the swans and ducks. After seeing swans so often in Iceland, Björk’s swan dress made more sense. Before, I just figured it was an off-the-wall-creative decision that seemed so Björk, but I now understood the decision to be so much a part of who she is.
As we passed the flea market on our way back to our AirB&B, the DJ from the Dillon Whiskey Bar passed us. I did a double-take and caught her attention. We held eye contact for a moment. Even with her bags of groceries, she seemed like a white witch who stepped out of a Tolkien novel. What were the odds we would run into her again? Even though Reykjavik can feel like a big capital city, it’s still a small town.
We stopped in more shops. I bought a knit hat and Polartec gloves at the 66°North store. I thought it was just a trendy brand and a reason to hire pouty-lipped models for their marketing campaigns. As it turns out, 66°North was established in 1926 and manufactured gear to keep fishermen warm. I was thankful to finally find a knit hat that doesn’t ride up on my head and keeps my head covered. The gloves are sleek but warm and will come in handy hiking during the colder months here at home.
On the way back to the AirB&B, we visited Hallgrímskirkja, the largest church in Iceland, and among the tallest buildings in the country. This beautiful Lutheran church was designed by architect Guðjón Samúelsson in 1937 to reassemble the trap-rocks, mountains, and glaciers of Iceland. I must say it’s one of the most beautiful churches I’ve ever seen. To stand outside of it and hear the bells ring gave me goosebumps. The symmetry inside the church is just as gorgeous. Jeff and I sat in a pew and took in the wonder of afternoon sun filtering through the windows while listening to the distinctive pipe organ. What would it be like, I wondered, to live in Reykjavik and worship in this church …
In front of Hallgrímskirkja is a statue of Leif Erikson, which was a gift from the United States in 1930 to honor the millennial anniversary of Iceland’s parliament in 930 AD.
For dinner, we ended up back at Babalu for grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. We sat upstairs in armchairs around a little table. The window beside us was open. I noticed most homes in Iceland generally keep a window slightly open. As we were waiting for our food, we scrolled through our photos on our iPhones. In the background, I finally heard my first Björk song in Iceland—”Human Behavior” from 1993. Babalu is one of the moments I keep returning to when I think of our trip. We enjoyed the eclectic decor, and it was such a cozy space with the scent of various spices wafting from the kitchen downstairs to the upstairs where we were sitting. The chilly night seemed to wrap around the building and cradle us at that moment.
Another favorite memory of Reykjavik is being able to walk almost everywhere. Moreover, I enjoyed feeling safe walking the streets at night. Staying in an AirB&B created a feeling that we lived in Iceland.
On our last full day in Reykjavik, we walked down to the harbor to visit the Whales of Iceland exhibit. I’ve been fascinated by whales since I was a small child and saw Walt Disney’s Pinocchio and Newtka, the killer whale at Seven Seas Marine Life Park in Arlington, Texas. Jeff had been keen on whale watching; however, we thought it would take up too much time. Whales of Iceland seemed like a good compromise. The exhibit wasn’t included in our City Pass; however, we did receive a thirty-percent discount. In a nutshell, Whales of Iceland is an interactive exhibit of mostly life-size versions of cetaceans with an audio tour. It wasn’t expensive, and we enjoyed it. The exhibition takes about half an hour to go through, and there’s an hourlong documentary about how noise pollution in the ocean hurts whales. I knew a lot about whales already, but I still learned quite a bit at the exhibit. Plus, seeing the replicas hanging above me in the museum gave me a sense of the scale of these majestic creatures.
Jeff and I ducked into the grocery store next to Whales of Iceland for a quick snack. We ran into our docent from the exhibit. Originally from Philadelphia or Pittsburgh, he told us how he had married an Icelander and moved to Iceland when his husband found work studying skeletal remains in Reykjavik.
We visited the Reykjavik Museum of Photography next. I’ve always loved photography but have deepened my interest after buying a new camera. The museum is included in the City Pass ticket and worth a visit. It’s not large, so we were able to finish in less than an hour. I enjoyed the variety of work, which included a video. It definitely has a European feel. Many pieces inspired and stoked my imagination. They also have a library of photography magazines and resources I could have spent the rest of the day pursuing. Much of their collection is available to view online.
2Fs wanted to visit Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur, a famous hot dog stand he had seen in one of the Nordic Delights vlogs. Although I like the addition of crisp fried onions, I’m not a fan of the remoulade and sweet mustard. With so many condiments, by the time I finished my hot dog, my napkin looked like it had been used to clean up a crime scene. While Jeff finished his second hot dog, I watched two middle-aged identical twin sisters eat hot dogs and share one drink. I wondered who they were and about their backstory.
Jeff and been keen to visit the National Gallery of Iceland over the three different art museums. I expected it would be filled with portraits of lots of famous Icelanders, but it included a lot of contemporary work in various mediums. While Jeff was in the restroom, I noticed a print of a piece called “Enjoying the Midnight Sun (Detail)” at the entrance of the gift shop. The color captured my attention because orange has inspired me ever since art school. It was another print of a piece about swans by this artist that intrigued me even more. The docent who checked our city passes said the artist’s temporary exhibit ended the day before, but we would still see it upstairs if we didn’t mind walking around the staff packing its up.
Fortunately for us, most of Who Are Your People? by Hulda Hâkon was still on display. I was surprised to find that “Enjoying the Midnight Sun (Detail)” was not a painting and, in fact, a three-dimensional piece with hand-made figures inset in the tiny windows of the wooden building. No picture can give a true sense of what it’s like to see a piece of art up close. Something about Hâkon’s work resonated with me. Perhaps it’s the whimsical, playful nature of her art, or maybe it’s the philosophical musings included in some pieces. All of her men and women seemed to have walked out of Manhattan during the early sixties. As I walked around the gallery, I observed and listened to the staff carefully wrapping some of the pieces that had already taken down. One of them spoke with a middle-aged woman in a sweater, skirt, and boots. It didn’t seem like a cold day to me, so it seemed unusual to see an Icelander in a sweater.
I wandered into a second gallery and discovered even more work by Hâkon. The more of her work I viewed, the more it stoked my own creative ideas and urges. After seeing a self-portrait of the artist from 1985, I wondered if she still wore her hair the same way. {She had been twenty-eight at the time.) Wouldn’t it be cool, I thought, if I could meet her and ask her about her work? I laughed to myself regarding such an outlandish random thought and gazed around the gallery and tried to decide if one piece was my favorite. A moment later, the women in a sweater from the other gallery walked up to me and introduced herself. “Hello, I’m Hulda Hâkon.” Even though I had only discovered this artist a half an hour before, her art had established a connection with my own creative core deep inside me. It was all I could do not to scream like a teenage Beatles fan in the sixties. Somehow, I held it together and told her what an honor it was to meet her and see her work in person.
Jeff walked up, and she was gracious enough to spend a few minutes answering our questions about her work and take a selfie with us. Moreover, she seemed so humble, with no ego. Hulda told us it was strange to talk about herself and her work; however, the temporary exhibit had forced her to grow in this area. We thanked Hulda for her time, and she wandered back into the other gallery. Jeff and I just beamed at each other. Downstairs in the gift shop, Jeff bought a print of one of her swan pieces, and I bought a book about Hulda. I carried it around the rest of the afternoon like a precious artifact because it provided a physical connection to such a special experience.
We had some extra time before our elves and troll tour, so Jeff and I went in search of Alþingi, the Icelandic parliament building. We walked by it several times before we identified it. Ironically, had we just waited for our tour, our guide ended our time together in front of the building.
Our tour guide was a bespectacled woman in her early twenties whose named translated into English as “snow fairy.” Snædes showed us several different histories sites and shared various folk tales. She gave us instructions on how to create Icelandic zombies, which are more like Haitian zombies than those in the Walking Dead. They all seemed to revolve ripping off poor widows in church and were much too much work, in my opinion. My favorite part of the tour was when Snædes shows us a large rock in a small park behind some houses. The stone is an elf house, which is a doorway to another dimension where the hidden people live. The rock had initially been in another part of the city and needed to be moved, but try as the construction crew might, equipment failure and other misfortune occurred again and again until an elf whisperer was called in from the north to negotiate with the elves inside. After working out an arrangement with the hidden people, the rock was finally easily moved to its new location. Who doesn’t love a culture that requires an elf whisperer as an occupation?
At this point, the sun dropping toward the horizon, so we hoofed it back over to the harbor to get a picture of the Sun Voyager sculpture by Jón Gunnar Árnason, which was created to mark the two hundredth anniversary of the founding of Reykjavik. We picked an excellent time to see it because the setting sun lit this minimalist sculpture beautifully. Even if I had known nothing about Iceland and its history, I would have gleaned a great deal about the country and its people from viewing Sun Voyager.
After a quick stop at the AirB&B, we headed to another part of town to visit Hlemmur Mathöll. Kim and Jeff had raved about the hamburgers. 2Fs and I weren’t as impressed.
Since we had not explored this part of the city, we wandered down the street. We saw similar souvenir shops as we had seen throughout the city, but we also came across other businesses that gave an idea of day-to-day life for Icelanders. I peered through the window of an upscale restaurant and wondered if the young couple obviously in love and deep in conversation were Icelanders or tourists. What are their names? How did they meet?
On our way home, we passed Valdi’s, a famous ice cream shop our British/Irish snorkeling guide had mentioned. I tasted a gray, licorice ice cream that was good but opted for a dark chocolate flavor for my cone. Jeff got something berrylicious.
As much as I enjoyed my visit to Iceland and would like to live there, I felt complete with my experience when it was time to leave the next morning. I felt incredibly present and grateful for the opportunity to travel and experience another culture and its people, so I had no regrets about leaving and going back to the life that allowed me to visit Iceland in the first place. Moreover, my memory was filled with so many sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and textures, I felt ready to take these experiences into my writing and other creative work.
After boarding the bus to the airport, we drove through Reykjavik, picking up other passengers, and I reflected on how different it is to live in a city compared to the small towns we had visited along the southern coast and western peninsula. I noted how the characters I had created in my mind while gazing at lava fields, volcanoes, and glaciers changed when I arrived in the city and started imagining where they would go and what they would do in Reykjavik. I thought about the older man and younger man in the coffee shop and the identical twins eating hot dogs. The distinctive taste of sweet mustard, remoulade, and crispy fried onions came back to me. I decided my characters drove into Reykjavik for a hot dog and to pay homage to the DJ at Dillon Whiskey Bar. Say hello to the white witch for me, y’all!