The land of the ice and snow

19 December 2016

The day began with a foggy early morning journey to Heathrow and a late airside breakfast. For once we weren’t heading for the sun, but flying north into the unknown. Our cases were bulging with thick jumpers and thermals and, despite Commando’s insistence that I wouldn’t need them, I had my trusty Yaktrax in my hand luggage. It seemed to me the clue was in the name. Iceland was sure to be icy wasn’t it?

By the time we landed, the light was already beginning to fade but, as far as we could see through the window of the coach, there was no ice or snow, although it had been bitterly cold in the open air outside the airport. After almost an hour we arrived at a bus station to be transferred onto smaller buses. Now we wound our way through narrow streets, the houses lit up for Christmas, gardens festooned with twinkling lights. ONe of the drop off points was a small square the centre of which had been turned into an ice rink. The smells from a hot dog stall and several restaurants reminded us we hadn’t eaten since the airport. Our hotel was the last stop on a journey that felt never endeding.

Finally at our destination we soon discovered nothing happens fast in Iceland. Like the coach journey, check in was interminably slow but, eventually, we were heading for our room. There were a few minutes of frustration when we couldn’t seem to make the keycard work, followed by laughter as we realised the door, unlike every other door in every other hotel, opened outwards instead of inwards.

The room was warm thanks to Iceland’s volcanoes, which provide geothermal heating and hot water for almost all the buildings in the country. A much needed trip to the loo soon revealed the downside to this. The water from the hot taps was scalding hot and had a definite whiff of sulphur about it. Still, I imagine this is a small price to pay for free heat and hot water. In contrast, the water from the cold tap was icy cold and, according to everything I’d read, the cleanest in the world. The country may have the reputation for being one of the most expensive places to visit but, for once, bottled water was one thing we would not need to buy.

After a quick check of Google Maps using the hotel wifi, we were outside in the frigid air again. Wrapped in so many clothes we could hardly move and, with my Yaktrax in my pocket just in case, we headed where Google told us the food was. By now our stomachs were grumbling audibly, even through all the layers of jumpers and coats.

After about a mile of walking through unfamiliar streets with frequent stops to check the map and make sure we were on the right track, we came to the square we’d passed in the coach. This, we later discovered, was Ingólfstorg, and we were in the centre of Reykjavik. Now we were spoilt for choice and there was a bit of wandering up and down looking at the menu boards outside the restaurants. Our final choice owed more the the cold and the first flakes of snow falling than the food on offer.

The Geysir Bistro turned out to be a good choice, if rather more expensive than we’d expected. Maybe we’d stumbled onto one of the more costly restaurants in Reykjavik but we were too hungry to worry about it. Despite a few reservations about eating Rudolph and ruining everyone’s Christmas, we chose reindeer burger. Let’s face it, you can’t get much more authentically Icelandic than that. With Icelandic cheese, some kind of pickled apple, cranberry pickle and garlic mayo, it was delicious.

If eating reindeer burger wasn’t exotic enough, desert was almost theatrical. As usual I chose chocolate, chocolate filled with  berries, ice cream and hot caramel to be exact. Quite what I was expecting I couldn’t say but what I got was a globe of shining chocolate and a small jug of hot caramel sauce. Just as I was wondering where the fruit and ice cream were, the waitress poured the sauce over the chocolate. Slowly it melted, a little like an egg hatching, to reveal ice cream and winter berries hidden inside. Sickly sweet but the perfect end to our meal.

By the time we got back outside the only snowflakes were the lights hanging from the lampposts. The snow had stopped. This might have been disappointing if there hadn’t been a satisfyingly crunchy layer still on the ground. So much for not needing my Yaktrax! The long day ended with a slow walk back to our hotel.  As a start to our Icelandic adventure it had been a good one.

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