Such a bittersweet feeling on that last day of vacation, you know?
It's a big travel day, and thoughts naturally return to the thoughts you were having on your last big travel day – the day you got there. Ten days ago, we made our first drive across the barren landscape from the airport to Reykjavik, having no clue what to expect, no idea what was ahead of us. And today we made that same drive from Reykjavik back to the airport. Knowing.
We left you last at Hótel Hellnar on Snæfellsnes Peninsula which, now that all is said and done, was one of the big highlights of the trip. The cliffs and the rock formations were unforgettable, and so was our time at the hotel. The next morning we had a delicious breakfast in the dining room overlooking the ocean. The sky was much friendlier than it had been the day before – bright blue with a warm sun. We took advantage of it by spending a leisurely morning on the deck.
We bumped into a man and woman and Thayer said hi to them as if we were already acquainted. They looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place them in memory until Thayer reminded me that the woman approached me a few stops ago—at Gauksmýri Lodge in Hvammstangi—to tell me I had forgotten my jacket in the dining room. Now, in Hellnar, they were soaking up the sun on the deck, too, so we spent a couple of hours chatting with Natacha and Paul from Belgium about our trips (they were on their honeymoon), marriage, Belgian and American politics, languages, and anything else that popped up. We exchanged welcomes to Seattle and Belgium and intentions to keep in touch.
After check-out, we drove up a mountain road and frolicked about on Snæfellsjökull – or “Snow Mountain Glacier” – then continued the drive back to the mainland and down to square 1: Reykjavik. We checked in with Apartment K again and stayed in a different flat, yet equally awesome in décor. An egg-shaped toilet, a stone-walled bathroom, and a ceramic bird statue centerpiece were among the unique features. They really go all out with the adornments, which make it such a fun and interesting place to stay. I plan to write a very satisfactory review on Trip Advisor.
We had nommilicious sandwiches upstairs at Prikið, its old windows overlooking downtown, and then met up with Thayer's old college friend, Shauna for drinks at a bar called Boston, where she seemed to know probably 7 or 8 people who came in throughout the evening. “It's Reykjavik,” she said in explanation. Shauna has lived in Iceland for about two years. She came one summer, fell in love with the place (not hard to do), and did everything she could to come back. This is no easy feat. To apply for residency, you must first find a job and prove that you are the one most qualified individual for the position – out-qualifying all the applicants in the entire European Union. She found a loophole in the system, though, which was to create a business and then apply for license to hire herself. Totes brills. The system doesn't have that loophole anymore, so she skated by that one with some amazing luck. She, true to fairytale form, has met her Icelandic love in a man named Arnar Somethingsson, and they are getting married in a few weeks. Love in the Ice Lands!
At 1am we went back to Apt K, suited up in our eyemasks, and slept the sleep of world-weary travelers. This morning we enjoyed a fantastic breakfast and coffee and, of course, my Swiss Mocha on the patio at Tivoli and wrote out all our postcards in the sunshine. Then it was off to Keflavik and off the ground.
It feels good to be heading home. Vacation life is awesome but hard to maintain, and I miss my kitties. But I must say that I feel like I'm leaving with unfinished business in Iceland. I feel full, yet not quite satisfied. I think that means we'll go back again someday, so knowing that will have to do for now.
Before we left Seattle, we got a lot of confused looks and questions of, “Iceland? Really?” The answer is: Iceland, really. Because it's both firmly settled and virtually untouched. Because it's both monochromatically brown and fantastically colorful. Because it's covered in both the highest cliffs and the flattest plains you've ever seen. Because it's like the edge of the earth, or the middle of the moon, or just the most impossibly beautiful fantasy world you could dream up.
Showing posts with label Hellnar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hellnar. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Monday, May 31, 2010
Iceland Update: The West Fjörds
“Sometimes there's so much beauty, I feel like I can't take it.” - American Beauty
The West Fjörds. I... ::sigh::... nope. Nothing. The words – there are no words for the West Fjörds. I wish I could write about what it looked like and do it justice. How the bright blue water and gray-pink striated cliffs in the foreground stood against the snow-white and grey striped “Snæfellstrond” mountain chain in the background. At sunset. All of this at sunset. Miles and miles, driving in and out of each fjörd, seeing this spectacle from sea level, then from cliff level as the road wound up and down and around. The sight made me weepy then and it's almost making me weepy now just thinking about it.
We were told by a friend of a friend to hit the West Fjörds because it was “the most beautiful place she'd ever seen.” As we made our trip around the island, we encountered no travelers who had come from or were going there. We knew it was going to be a bit of a job, and a long one, getting through it. The road, as I said last update, is sometimes paved and sometimes dirt, but the real thing of it is the length of the drive. There is no direct way to get from point A to point B. You can't just drive from the northeast to the southwest, for example. You have to drive across the entire north to the west and then down to the south. But it's not that simple, either. Have a look at a map of the West Fjörds, if you will. See how the edge of the land goes in-out-in-out-in-out-in-out-etc-etc-etc? The road – the only traversable road – follows the coast. Thus, the shortest distance between two points is not a straight line, but an unbelievably long meandering one.
The more we realized that no one else, it seemed, was making the West Fjörds a part of their trip, the more we wondered if we'd be wasting our time there. If it would be beautiful as the rest of Iceland has been beautiful, but with no new sights to see. The same beauty we'd been seeing all along. I mean, what more could there be, right? We were not prepared.
It is THAT BEAUTIFUL. It's like, just when you think you've seen as much beauty as can possibly exist, the gods throw this in your face like “BAM! You thought that was it? GET A LOAD OF THE WEST FJ ÖRDS.”
In addition to the gorgeosity, our West Fjörds trip became something of an adventure, too, as we weren't sure if we were going to have a bed that night. It took us ages to get to Dýrafjörður, where there were two guesthouse possibilities, both of which had been open since mid May, according to our brochure. And yet there was no one to be found at either one of them. One of them—Hótel Núpur—was unlocked, and we roamed the entire former-schoolhouse in search of someone to give us a room, but to no avail. Still, it was awesome because in one of the hallways hung large framed class pictures dating back to 1953. It was fascinating looking at the styles and names like Guðrún Ólafsdóttir and Halldór Bjarnason.
While searching the area, we met two girls from Hong Kong who were staying at Hótel Núpur. They invited us back with them to see if we could find someone to help. They were there with a photography group on some kind of working trip. Among others, there was a girl from England and a guy from Boston, and I think their trip leader was Russian, maybe. I have no idea how this trip came to be, but they were there to take pictures and also to do work on the hotel. They were staying in the gymnasium and invited us to stay with them, and we wouldn't have thought twice about it but we had no blanket or pillows or anything, so we thanked them for their attempts to help and scurried on our way.
Hayl: All we can do is hope we get to the next place by midnight and hope they have a room for us.
Thayer: Midnight?! It can't take us five hours to get there!
Hayl: Can't it?
It was a long, long, long, long, loooong, long time before the next guesthouse, Hótel Látrabjarg. And when we got arrived, there was no one there, either. But to be fair, it was 10pm. It may have felt like midday to us because of the sunlight, but to the natives it was not midday. While searching around, Thayer found the cook in the backyard doing some gardening. Because why wouldn't the cook be gardening? He didn't speak much English, but he knew what we were after, so he called the host and the host came over and gave us a room. It was a happy ending. Man, was it.
Today was stress-free. We had a lengthy drive, but a beautiful one, from Látrabjarg, back inland, and then back out again on the Snæfellsnes Peninsula. Along the way we stopped at the bird cliffs where, as you might imagine, there were many birds. We saw a puffin, too, which satisfied one of Thayer's goals. We also did a bit of frolicking at the westernmost part of Iceland and therefor the westernmost part of Europe, at Bjargtangar.
Oh, and in one of the small towns, we stopped at an Icelandic handicrafts store and I bought another Lopi sweater – this one is short-sleeved and has SHEEP as the pattern around the neck! I die every time I think about how adorable it is. After I did giddy jumpyclaps over it, I discovered that the woman sitting there knitting was the one who made it. She didn't speak English, but her daughter translated, and she was very happy I loved the sweater so much. It's not often you get to meet the maker of the stuff you buy. Then the two of them helped us plot our route to Hellnar, but not before several minutes of language barrier over the pronunciation of "Hellnar." Over and over, we said it, the repetition met only with their confused stares. Finally, we pointed to our map. "Oh, Hkbmfnvoslvd!" they may as well have said, for how much the Icelandic pronunciation sounds like "Hellnar."
Hótel Hellnar, at the tip of Snæfellsnes Peninsula, was warm and welcoming when we arrived, and our room is very sweet with a view of the ocean. The stormy weather is making the water quite angry and it is enchanting to watch. We had a delicious dinner—which rocked our world because we've been living on Clif bars for about a day and a half—of cheesy cauliflower soup with bread and smjör, the Icelandic word for butter. I'm sure you can guess how many times we try to work "smjör" into our conversation. Following the soup was cod in marinara for Thayer and bacon-wrapped chicken breast in mushroom sauce for me. And then came the Panna Cotta. Panna Cotta is a dream come true - like Baileys pudding with chocolate sauce and whipped cream. Bliss.
After dinner it was about 9:30 pm, so of course we went sight seeing. At the water's edge, there was a naturally-formed rock arch, snaking out from the cliffs like one of those Chinese dragons. The waves would come in and crash through the arch and the holes. The clifftops are shockingly green on top of slick wet black. The waves were so dramatic, exploding off the cliffs like fireworks. We stood in the rain and cold and watched, mesmerized.
Now we are snug in our bed and ready for sleep. Eyemasks, ready, go.
A couple of quotes to leave you with.
*
Hayl: Iceland, you can be really difficult sometimes, you know?
*
[lambs skipping along the road]
Thayer: Get away from the road, you damned skippies!
Hayl: [loses it, laughing hysterically]
Thayer: Oh dear, it's that point of the night, is it?
*
Hayl: Nice fjarm.
Thayer: Nice bjirds.
Hayl: Nice shjirt.
Thayer: Look, there's a ljamb!
Hayl: Hi, ljamb!
Thayer: Whoa, that sheep is shjorn.
The West Fjörds. I... ::sigh::... nope. Nothing. The words – there are no words for the West Fjörds. I wish I could write about what it looked like and do it justice. How the bright blue water and gray-pink striated cliffs in the foreground stood against the snow-white and grey striped “Snæfellstrond” mountain chain in the background. At sunset. All of this at sunset. Miles and miles, driving in and out of each fjörd, seeing this spectacle from sea level, then from cliff level as the road wound up and down and around. The sight made me weepy then and it's almost making me weepy now just thinking about it.
We were told by a friend of a friend to hit the West Fjörds because it was “the most beautiful place she'd ever seen.” As we made our trip around the island, we encountered no travelers who had come from or were going there. We knew it was going to be a bit of a job, and a long one, getting through it. The road, as I said last update, is sometimes paved and sometimes dirt, but the real thing of it is the length of the drive. There is no direct way to get from point A to point B. You can't just drive from the northeast to the southwest, for example. You have to drive across the entire north to the west and then down to the south. But it's not that simple, either. Have a look at a map of the West Fjörds, if you will. See how the edge of the land goes in-out-in-out-in-out-in-out-etc-etc-etc? The road – the only traversable road – follows the coast. Thus, the shortest distance between two points is not a straight line, but an unbelievably long meandering one.
The more we realized that no one else, it seemed, was making the West Fjörds a part of their trip, the more we wondered if we'd be wasting our time there. If it would be beautiful as the rest of Iceland has been beautiful, but with no new sights to see. The same beauty we'd been seeing all along. I mean, what more could there be, right? We were not prepared.
It is THAT BEAUTIFUL. It's like, just when you think you've seen as much beauty as can possibly exist, the gods throw this in your face like “BAM! You thought that was it? GET A LOAD OF THE WEST FJ ÖRDS.”
In addition to the gorgeosity, our West Fjörds trip became something of an adventure, too, as we weren't sure if we were going to have a bed that night. It took us ages to get to Dýrafjörður, where there were two guesthouse possibilities, both of which had been open since mid May, according to our brochure. And yet there was no one to be found at either one of them. One of them—Hótel Núpur—was unlocked, and we roamed the entire former-schoolhouse in search of someone to give us a room, but to no avail. Still, it was awesome because in one of the hallways hung large framed class pictures dating back to 1953. It was fascinating looking at the styles and names like Guðrún Ólafsdóttir and Halldór Bjarnason.
While searching the area, we met two girls from Hong Kong who were staying at Hótel Núpur. They invited us back with them to see if we could find someone to help. They were there with a photography group on some kind of working trip. Among others, there was a girl from England and a guy from Boston, and I think their trip leader was Russian, maybe. I have no idea how this trip came to be, but they were there to take pictures and also to do work on the hotel. They were staying in the gymnasium and invited us to stay with them, and we wouldn't have thought twice about it but we had no blanket or pillows or anything, so we thanked them for their attempts to help and scurried on our way.
Hayl: All we can do is hope we get to the next place by midnight and hope they have a room for us.
Thayer: Midnight?! It can't take us five hours to get there!
Hayl: Can't it?
It was a long, long, long, long, loooong, long time before the next guesthouse, Hótel Látrabjarg. And when we got arrived, there was no one there, either. But to be fair, it was 10pm. It may have felt like midday to us because of the sunlight, but to the natives it was not midday. While searching around, Thayer found the cook in the backyard doing some gardening. Because why wouldn't the cook be gardening? He didn't speak much English, but he knew what we were after, so he called the host and the host came over and gave us a room. It was a happy ending. Man, was it.
Today was stress-free. We had a lengthy drive, but a beautiful one, from Látrabjarg, back inland, and then back out again on the Snæfellsnes Peninsula. Along the way we stopped at the bird cliffs where, as you might imagine, there were many birds. We saw a puffin, too, which satisfied one of Thayer's goals. We also did a bit of frolicking at the westernmost part of Iceland and therefor the westernmost part of Europe, at Bjargtangar.
Oh, and in one of the small towns, we stopped at an Icelandic handicrafts store and I bought another Lopi sweater – this one is short-sleeved and has SHEEP as the pattern around the neck! I die every time I think about how adorable it is. After I did giddy jumpyclaps over it, I discovered that the woman sitting there knitting was the one who made it. She didn't speak English, but her daughter translated, and she was very happy I loved the sweater so much. It's not often you get to meet the maker of the stuff you buy. Then the two of them helped us plot our route to Hellnar, but not before several minutes of language barrier over the pronunciation of "Hellnar." Over and over, we said it, the repetition met only with their confused stares. Finally, we pointed to our map. "Oh, Hkbmfnvoslvd!" they may as well have said, for how much the Icelandic pronunciation sounds like "Hellnar."
Hótel Hellnar, at the tip of Snæfellsnes Peninsula, was warm and welcoming when we arrived, and our room is very sweet with a view of the ocean. The stormy weather is making the water quite angry and it is enchanting to watch. We had a delicious dinner—which rocked our world because we've been living on Clif bars for about a day and a half—of cheesy cauliflower soup with bread and smjör, the Icelandic word for butter. I'm sure you can guess how many times we try to work "smjör" into our conversation. Following the soup was cod in marinara for Thayer and bacon-wrapped chicken breast in mushroom sauce for me. And then came the Panna Cotta. Panna Cotta is a dream come true - like Baileys pudding with chocolate sauce and whipped cream. Bliss.
After dinner it was about 9:30 pm, so of course we went sight seeing. At the water's edge, there was a naturally-formed rock arch, snaking out from the cliffs like one of those Chinese dragons. The waves would come in and crash through the arch and the holes. The clifftops are shockingly green on top of slick wet black. The waves were so dramatic, exploding off the cliffs like fireworks. We stood in the rain and cold and watched, mesmerized.
Now we are snug in our bed and ready for sleep. Eyemasks, ready, go.
A couple of quotes to leave you with.
*
Hayl: Iceland, you can be really difficult sometimes, you know?
*
[lambs skipping along the road]
Thayer: Get away from the road, you damned skippies!
Hayl: [loses it, laughing hysterically]
Thayer: Oh dear, it's that point of the night, is it?
*
Hayl: Nice fjarm.
Thayer: Nice bjirds.
Hayl: Nice shjirt.
Thayer: Look, there's a ljamb!
Hayl: Hi, ljamb!
Thayer: Whoa, that sheep is shjorn.
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