BootsnAll Travel Network



Lagoon Me

On Day 3 (Sept. 7) I left Reykjavik on a bus tour around what’s called the Golden Circle.  We visited the Pingvellir national park, site of the first meeting of the very first parliament in the year 930 (just beside the Eurasia-America faultline), the breathtaking Gulfoss waterfall and the geyser after which all other geysers are named, “Geyser.”  That night I hit the lively streets, ran into a guy who was on the tour (an anchorman from Sioux City, Iowa), joined his “pub crawl” already in progress, and withdrew from the “crawl” and walked back to my B&B, upright.

On my last full day in Iceland (Day 4), I walked around town and had a hot dog at a little stand claiming to serve the best hot dogs in the universe.  President Clinton once stopped here and stated the food lives up to its reputation.  That particular statement was true.

Later, I took a bus in the rain to the Blue Lagoon, a large milky-turquoise outdoor thermal pool encircled by dark lava rock that has been transformed into a therapeutic day spa.  The water is reputed to improve the skin and have healing properties.  One guidebook says the Blue Lagoon is to Reykjavik what the Eiffel Tower is to France.  I have to disagree with the good people of Lonely Planet on this one.  For my taste the spa was too slick and commercialized to symbolize the natural grandeur of the country.  Upon entry, a row of glowing female staff members check you in, their skin like buttah, the apparent reward of clocking many hours in the lagoon.  They wore shiny silver-blue polyester athletic outfits, like something out of a sci fi movie.  I followed their directions to the lagoon–I would have jumped into a volcano if they had so ordered.  Once in the lagoon, I waded slowly through the chest-high water (knee-high for you, Kerry) to the small vats along the perimenter containing white, cottage-cheesish exfoliating gook, which I dutifully smeared on my face.  As I waded through the thick steam, I nodded to other white-faced guests as they silently drifted by, like apparitions in purgatory.  Few dared to speak, I think out of fear that if we did the fembots would shoot us with ray guns.  After a sauna, I went to the cafeteria and ate some skyr, a dessert similar to yogurt only thicker, the consistency of toothpaste or spackling.  Looking substantially more beautiful by now, I then waited outside in the frigid cold for the bus back to Reykjavik.

Here are some shots of the city.  Earlier attempts to upload them failed because at the internet cafe I needed the authorization of The Administrator, who turned out to be a pimply-faced teenager.  He declined my request.  I suggested he visit the Blue Lagoon.

 SSCN0155.JPGSSCN0016.JPGSSCN0020.JPGSSCN0019.JPGSSCN0051.JPG

Above, from left to right:  (1) Reykjavik from above.  (2) The iconoclastic church, Hallgrimskirkja, with a statute of Leif Ericcson in the foreground.  (3) A contemporary viking boat statute at the harbor’s edge.  (4) The house where Ronald Reagan and Mikhail Gorbachev held their summit meeting in 1986.  (5) My first encounter with an Icelandic blonde.

SSCN0157.JPG   SSCN0052.JPG   SSCN0116.JPG   SSCN0122.JPG

Above, left to right:  (1) Standing between the Eurasian and American tectonic plates.  (2) The Iceland flag marking the first parliament site.  (3) Gullfoss.  (4) Me at Gullfoss. 

Finally, here’s a girl with classic Icelandic features.  SSCN0136.JPG

 I’m actually not in Iceland as I write this.  I’m now in Sweden.  My flight yesterday (Day 5) to Oslo, Norway was cancelled, and everyone on that flight was placed on a plane heading to Stockholm.  We were to wait for a connecting flight to Oslo, but I decided to stay.  I’m stayng in a 150-room hostel and have yet to wander through town.  Bless.

NOTE:  I’ve experienced technical difficulties re: photo posting.  Sometimes the photos described above are visible and sometimes they’re not.  As a consolation, here are a few additional photos from Iceland that seem to always be visible:  the spunky bartender, a sign revealing the advertising industry’s exploitation of puffins, yours truly, the Blue Lagoon, the mayor of Reykjavik.

SSCN0156.JPGSSCN0034.JPGSSCN0154.JPGSSCN0158.JPGSSCN0137.JPG



Tags: , , ,

-1 responses to “Lagoon Me”

  1. lauren halligan says:

    Spencer:

    You had me laughing hysterically. You need to publish these journals. Thanks for taking me on this ride, and letting me live vciariously. Looking forward to the next chapter.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *