Caution: Sudden Gunfire

Monday, 28 September 2015

Our time in London had come to an end, it and was now time to go about our cross-country journey. We trained back to Gatwick to retrieve our rental car, which would later become the bane of my existence. After taking fifteen minutes to figure out the GPS, and another ten minutes determining where the hell first gear was, we set off into the west towards the most romanticized, expensive pile of rocks one could ever experience: AKA Stonehenge. Shockingly enough, we made it in one piece, but with my stress levels practically off the charts due to my gear shift being on the left, and me unable to shift into first fluidly without freaking out. Don't let my prior sarcasm fool you, Stonehenge was impressive, although perhaps it was a bit over-hyped. I suppose that's to be expected of, well, rocks. But I learned a lot that day about it, and how there's way more to Stonehenge than just the myserious stones everyone is familiar with. It's part of a much larger expanse of archaeological unearthings such as Woodhenge, the Barrows, the Avenue, and more--things I had never known about.

After Stonehenge, we worked our way further west towards Bath. We weaved through tiny, stressful, town roads should definitely only fit one car but were expected to fit two. We passed the sign for "Toll Gate Tea House," something I later recognized as hanging in the front of the ice cream shop where we both work, and driving through spaces with signs that read "Tank Crossing," "Sudden Gunfire," and "Caution: Unexploded Bombs." 

Upon arrival in Bath, we were going to actually go into the spa, however, due to Bath's silly layout and our inability to actually navigate the city, we only found ourselves at the museum. I'm not complaining, even though I was lugging my towel around the whole time, learning about the history of the Roman Baths was really incredible, and I was actually really fascinated with the colors of the baths: the contrast of the deep green water with the creamy ivory of old marble. 

Because we are adventurous (read: crazy), after departing Bath, we had the long journey to the east coast for our next stop: Dover. After lots of driving, and lots of replays on my Kaleo CD (side note: the car only had a CD player, and I only had the one CD I purchased in Iceland...you get the gist), we arrived at Dover at just about 11pm. We parked right in front of our hostel, to be met with three people asking at three different times we were checking in. Now, it's important to note that this hostel may or may not be tied for the sketchiest place we stayed...at least, at that hour where we could only see the unfinished bedroom we were sleeping in (peeling paint, dead flowers, no ceiling) and not the rest of the hostel. But we, especially I--given that I had been driving all day, were too tired to care and I was out as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Tuesday, 29 September 2015

Our alarms went off  at just about 5:45am. "Why so early?" may be the question you dear readers (if any of you still exist) are asking yourselves. Well, that is a good question and the answer is simple. The white cliffs of Dover face the east, and so it seemed appropriate to see these marvels at sunrise! Because the GPS didn't really know what "Take me to the White Cliffs of Dover" meant, we used Google to start towards our destination. Although, as we rapidly found out, neither did Google. At first, we drove through the little town roads, racing the impending sunrise. We soon turned onto gravel roads, and then after one sudden left turn down what Google told us would take us to our destination, we found ourselves buried in shrubbery that closed in around us like a death grip. Exchanging looks that said "Nope," I threw that poor little Vauxhall into reverse. It was then we noticed the sign, parallel with our exit road, that read "No vehicular access." Thanks for the help Google. 

We drove until we found a road along the coast, which we followed until we had an incredible vantage point of the white cliffs we were searching for. We parked and walked along this coastal road, taking pictures in awe as we watched the sun rise.

As we walked more along the road, we discovered a gate and path near where the cows are laying in the photo above. We followed this path down many stairs until we found were we actually wanted to be, what was known as St. Margaret's Bay. Here we waited until the sun rose higher, taking photos, laughing, and trudging through the beach thick with pebbles and rocks until we were more weary and the vibrant color had faded from the sky. We climbed up the many stairs from whence we came, before returning to our hostel to sleep for a few more hours before we would be kicked out. For the record, the song "Cliffs of Dover" doesn't remind me of Dover. 

St. Margaret's Bay at Sunrise

After sleeping, showering, and deciding on a place to eat for breakfast, we settled into for a brunch at a cute little cafe in Dover. Each of us ordered an English breakfast and ate until we simply couldn't anymore, thoroughly enjoying the beans, fried toast, mushrooms, and eggs. 

We didn't really have any other plans for the rest of the day, so we took it easy as we drove from Dover to Stratford-Upon-Avon, birthplace of Shakespeare. We stopped in Oxford in an attempt to see the school. We saw the school, but not the old part....but hey, we can still say we saw it! ;) Upon arrival in Stratford, the tiny roads were as stressful, if not more stressful, than the ones before and I decided we were going to eat at the hostel instead of driving out to find someplace else. 

The hostel, which was a chain, was in a beautiful setting. It was set in gorgeous wooded area, and the inside was immaculate and inviting. In our room, we met a lovely Australian girl (who I awkwardly first identified as English) on her year abroad who became our companion for the evening. She told us she was going to see a play at the local theater--a spinoff of sorts of one of Shakespeare's plays. One look from Cerisa told me that we were going to a play that night too. While I'm not much of a theater fan, I couldn't refuse. When in Rome, right? Cerisa picked Henry V, and we told Ellie we would be more than happy to give her a ride with us.

After battling a bunch of German schoolchildren for food from the hostel like it was the Hunger Games, which took too long and  I would describe as a rather mundane hamburger, we set off for the theater. It took us a long time to find parking. After circling Stratford for a good 20 minutes or so, we found a car park and raced to the theater. Ellie went to her show, and we to our seats a few rows back from stage right. While I didn't understand hardly a word of what was happening in the play, it is cool that I can say I have seen a Shakespeare in Shakespeare's hometown. Also, the stage was super cool. A smoky, glass stage that could be lit underneath. Looked like lava! (Also, upon exiting the play, I looked up and saw a giant wall print. "Is that David Tennant?" It was!) We three girls returned back to the hostel, giggling as I got lost (even with the GPS) and settling in for the evening.

Wednesday,30 September 2015

Unfortunately, we didn't get to connect with Ellie on social media to keep up with her journey (like we had been and have been doing with our friends from Iceland). We were out the door before 8am. We had a journey to Cardiff, Wales to make and a tour at 10:30! 

Cardiff was an easy drive, hitting only a little traffic on the M5. I rather enjoyed crossing the bridge over the Bristol Channel, inhaling the scent of the ocean. After some searching, we found a car park and headed in the direction of our destination: the Doctor Who Experience (told you it'd be back).

Really excited and ready to get our nerd on, we entered the building and were greeted with props and paraphernalia from the show. We were handed thick necklaces as we entered the tour, and a tour guide dressed in a deep red robe guided us inside. I could already tell this was gonna be fun, and boy was I not disappointed. Our guide became an enthusiastic actress, taking us through what was essentially a playful, interactive episode with (what I assume) is whoever the current Doctor is. In our case, Peter Capaldi. Sure, it was campy walking through misty woods full of weeping angels, or "dusty" rooms with rusty Daleks, but we went through it with such childish glee that it didn't matter. The museum was equally as cool, with original and replica props, costumes, sets, and more to be oogled at by fans. 

The set of the 9th Doctor's (Christopher Eccleston) TARDIS console and interior

After we exited the gift shop (carrying a lot of memorabilia with us), we deposited our souvenirs into the car before continuing on through Cardiff. We walked around the bay, where we could see the Water Tower "secret entrance" to Torchwood (another BBC show--an anagram of Doctor Who), and the Millenium Center, a dominating building on the bay in the color of warm copper. The inscription on the front, a quote by Welsh poet Gwyneth Lewis, written in both Welsh and English: "Creu Gwir Fel Gwydr O Ffwrnais Awen/In These Stones Horizon Sing" 

Cardiff Bay

We spent the rest of the afternoon travelling by sightseeing bus about Cardiff, with a quick stops at Cardiff Castle (which had a giant rugby ball "smashed" through the castle wall to advertise the World Cup) for a delicious lunch of fish and chips. Actually, we went on the tour twice, but we were just using it as a shuttle to our car park, and an opportunity for a quick nap!

Reaching the end of our tour, it was time to find our hostel. We drove through Cardiff to another car park closer to our lodgings. As I was pulling the ticket out of the dispense and the arm lifted to let me in, I misjudged the distance between me (on the right) and the passenger side (left) and with a short cry from Cerisa and an awful sounding crunch, I clobbered the car on a gate.

I was certainly freaking out, but it looked a lot worse than it actually was: some paint scuffs from the yellow gate and a relatively small dent in the wheel well. Some disheveled homeless guy with a thick Welsh accent tried to tell us that for "300 quid he could fix that up real quick like new," (what's a quid?) but I figured that for a few obvious reasons, it was best to just leave it be. We'd get the car washed later, and deal with the damage at the rental company. I was stressed out, but not overly concerned. Taking a deep breath, I shoved my belongings into a backpack and we went in search of our hostel.

By this time, we'd seen a few different kinds of hostels: the lively, friendly, inclusive (personal favorite) Kex Hostel in Iceland; the rather distanced, although very helpful Astor Victoria in London; the grungy attic room (which could very well have been haunted) in Dover; to the pristine YHA at Stratford...but none of them prepared us for the 18 person room in Cardiff. Nobody spoke to us (which wasn't any different than London), but in the others we actually had private bathrooms or stalls. It was two showers and two toilets that opened into a hall, without any private space to change. Not to mention, the showers only gave you water by way of a button that you had to push, that provided you with ten seconds (if that) of water of unchangeable temperature. So that was fun, and after a rather awkward shower we explored the area a little more as we searched for dinner.

Our hostel was on a rather active street with some nightlife and restaurants, and right around the corner from the Millennium Stadium (different than the aforementioned Center) which was preparing for the England v. Wales rugby match the next day (so there were lots of vendors setting up or already selling fan gear). There were at least three strip clubs, and we wondered how that worked here in the UK. Do they were arcade-style fanny packs as G-Strings? I digress. We ate at the Prince of Wales, each ordering an order of mash and dragon sausage (made of pork, chili, and leek), which was the most delicious sausage I quite possibly have ever had!

Tired from my early rise, lack of sleep the night before, and head cold, we hit the hay.

Thursday, 1 October 2015

Sleeping in a bit, we had a lackadaisical start to the day. Our destination for the day was Winchester and the beautiful cathedral that had its residence in that town. Initially, the plan was to be there to hear the choir sing Evensong (which you can listen to as you read this section), but Google once again showed its true colors when we needed it to find parking. Google Maps took us down a "two-way" street (one of those made for one, but supposed to fit two) which ended in a one way street (coming the wrong direction) and a pedestrian walk. After some form of a 11 point turn, avoiding the woman behind me (who seemed to have done the same thing I did), and the FedEx truck coming at me, laughing, from the one-way, I managed to turn around and come back the way I came. Thanks, Google! Eventually we found parking in a (stress-inducing) car park beneath a shopping center...however, we wouldn't be able to stay until Evensong because the garage closed before the service started, and finding parking again would only result in giving me an aneurysm. 

We had high tea before our tour of the cathedral, enjoying our scones and tea out in the sunshine. When the time for our tour game, we took our seats on chairs in the nave and waited. Our tour guide was a jolly elderly man, a professor I inferred, who was more than happy to answer my questions about everything from the kind of paint used on the frescoes, to who the makers of the stained glass were, and more. We went over our allotted time, but the guide didn't care, and neither did I. As an art historian, I enjoyed every detail he offered. I found the story of the reassembling and collaging of the stained glass of the great west window intriguing, But in particular the story of how a diver rescued the cathedral in the early 1900s was most interesting.

The story, according to the Cathedral website goes as follows:

In the early 1900s, large cracks began to appear in the Cathedral’s massive walls and vaulted (arched) ceilings. Some were wide enough for owls to roost in. Chunks of stone were falling to the ground.

Winchester lies in a valley of the River Itchen, and the Cathedral sits on peaty soil with a high underlying water table. You can still see a distinct lean in some walls at its east end.

The architect brought in to advise, Thomas Jackson, decided it was time for action. He would deal with the problem of subsidence once and for all by underpinning the building’s medieval south and east walls with modern new foundations.

Jackson planned to dig narrow trenches underneath the walls of the building and fill them with concrete. These would need to reach 4 metres (13 feet) below the water table to be effective.

At first, it seemed Jackson’s plan would prove unworkable. As fast as the workmen dug, water flooded into their trenches. Even a steam pump couldn’t hold it back long enough.

It seemed nothing could be done to stop total collapse. Then the project’s engineer, Francis Fox, had a brilliant idea. If the water couldn’t be held back, why not use a deep-sea diver to do the work?

So William Walker, an experienced diver working at Portsmouth dockyard, was called in. From 1906, Walker laboured under water below the Cathedral for six hours a day at depths up to 6 metres (20 ft). He worked in total darkness, using his bare hands to feel his way through the cloudy, muddy water.

His huge, heavy diving suit took a long time to put on. So when he stopped for lunch, he’d just take off his helmet. He also sometimes smoked his pipe, which he thought would kill off any germs.

It took him six years to excavate the flooded trenches and fill them with bags of concrete. When he’d finished, all the groundwater could be pumped out and the subsiding walls safely underpinned by bricklayers

By 1911, the team of 150 workmen of which he was part had packed the foundations with an estimated 25,000 bags of concrete, 115,000 concrete blocks, and 900,000 bricks.

--

I thought this story was by far the most impressive fact I'd learned about the cathedral, and perhaps I may have even found this incredible feat more impressive than the architectural and stained glass itself!

The Great West Window

Sad to be missing Evensong, but ready for the next leg of our journey, we meandered through shops on Winchester's streets before hitting the road towards our hostel a half hour away in New Forest.

Our hostel in New Forest, one of the YHA chain hostels, was in a very peculiar location...we parked in a parking lot of a cricket pitch, and followed a path for fifteen minutes through the woods until we found it. We ate at the hostel, attempted to write some about our trip, and retired to our rooms. The only other person we saw besides the hostel attendant, was our roommate. She was a Czech girl who didn't say anything to us until I came back from the shower, making the three of us laugh with the story of how I fell (again!) and hit my boob in the bathroom. She was very pleasant once she spoke to us, and told us how she was working in Winchester, if my memory serves. But our interactions were few, and we went to sleep...excited for what the next day would bring.

Friday, 2 October 2015

This was one of the days I was most excited for. We were driving to Bournemouth! Why Bournemouth? Well, my friends Tom and Sammy live there, and we were going to meet them. The night before we told Tom where we were going to meet, and sure enough that is where we found him. Greeting him with big hugs and a rather amusing remark:

"You sound different in person, Elissa."

"That's because I'm getting over a cold, Tom! You're taller in person than you are on the screen!"

Tom, temporarily sans girlfriend, gave us the tour of his college/beach town. It was as beautiful and as stereotypical as I had imagined. The promenade was lined with a gradient of to-be-rented beach huts. There were gondolas to shuttle tourists up the cliffs, and a trolley to take them horizontally along the beach. There was an arcade, as every beach town does (where we played a couple competitive rounds of Mario Kart), surfers riding the waves, and a giant zipline reaching out to the end of the pier. 

Bournemouth

We were escorted along the beach, and then up into the main part of the city where we got to see the parks, shops, candy shops (every beach town has one), and gift shops. Eventually, we met up with Sammy and we enjoyed a round of mini golf (because every beach town has one). After the round of golf (who had 18 holes with spectacularly mundane names) we grabbed some food at a local pub before going down to the aquarium (not every beach town has one). 

A round of mini golf

Laughter abound, we chased sea turtles and sharks through the underwater tunnels, cooed over penguins (and a duck who wanted to be a penguin), and looked in awe at the jellyfish until we had seen it all. Tom and Sammy then told us they would meet us at their flat (as they had to bike/bus back), so Cerisa and I took the opportunity to take some photos of the beach, and get our feet wet while they went home. 

A little under an hour later we were welcomed warmly into their flat, where we were treated to listening to Tom's beautiful piano playing. When Sammy arrived, we then had a few more rounds of Mario Kart (with her this time!), and then put on a movie to watch while the two of them cooked us a delicious feast of stir fry. After the movie, we laughed until we cried playing politically incorrect card games and simply enjoying the company of friends.

When the night had come to its end, we checked into our hotel (yes, hotel) in Bournemouth anxiously awaiting the next days activities .

Friday, 3 October 2015

Our last full day in England was sure to bring some memories, and boy did it not disappoint. After a quick breakfast at the hotel, we picked Tom and Sammy up and started driving southwest towards Durdle Door, a natural limestone arch on the Jurassic coast. One again we found ourselves laughing gleefully, like old friends, as we drove through more areas that warned of "Sudden Gunfire" and "Tanks Crossing." 

Even at once point Tom tried to tell a joke: "What's big, white, and can't climb trees?"

We didn't even get to hear the punchline for another few hours, because my (self-admitted) clever, quick-witted, deadpan response of "Me" made us forget to ask about the real thing because we were laughing too hard. (Spoiler alert: It's a refrigerator). 

Eventually we arrived  at Durdle Door and Man of War. The weather was overcast and foggy, but the view was breathtaking. The water was crystal clear, colored with vibrant blues and greens. The cliffs were chalky and white, dusting anybody who brushed against them. We walked along the beach, comprised of small round stones that swallowed you to your ankles when you walked on them. Tom, Sammy, and Cerisa climbed into the caves in the chalk cliffs while I took pictures. We settled out by the arch, relaxing. We watched kayaks paddle through the calm, and listened to the splashes of brave jumpers leaping off the arch. When I went into the water, it was frigid and I sank up to my shins in stones, but even in the fog I knew I was in paradise. I was with dear friends in a beautiful place. I could stay there forever, and it would be burned into my memory for all time. 

Overlooking Man of War

Overlooking Durdle Door

Dropping Tom and Sammy back home was the most bittersweet part of our trip. We exchanged hugs, said goodbyes, and wiped tears from our eyes (or at least I was). It's so incredible to meet friends whom you have only known from a distance, and yet you don't know the next time you'll see them again (#BASIcelandcon2016). I knew as we drove away in the direction of London that our time with Tom and Sammy was one of the best days ever, and certainly one of the best days of the trip. 

And the trip home to our airport hotel went smoothly and we went home stress-free....at least that's what I wish I could say. But oh no, did the best day ever end in disaster. 

We wanted to give the car a wash to clean off some of the yellow paint and chalk dust from Durdle Door before we returned it to the rental company the next day, so our trusty friend Google took us to a car wash somewhere in Bournemouth. I did as instructed, inched forward into the track until told to stop, and put my car in neutral. But before I knew it, we were moving through the wash at a speed that allowed me just enough time to think "oh, we're going quite fast" before we came out from the brushes and and I had to slam on my brakes so not to hit the car ahead of me. 

The track had stopped, and we were just shy of panicking. We were trapped in a car, in a car wash, in a foreign country, and I already knew that the outcome was going to suck. The car ahead of us pulledd away, leaving us stranded on the track. The wash attendants finally appeared at my side, just as confused as I was. They had to figure out how to get us out. They wanted me to back out, so with a  look of uncertainty that I am sure was splayed across my face, I threw it into reverse and started trying to rock the car over the rollers that held my car in place on the track. I could hear the painful scraping of the wheels against the track over the voices of the attendants shouting "Give it more gas!" I went over one roller before they told me to stop. Backwards wasn't working. I was caught in the wash's brushes. They were pulling and pressing on the sides and hood of my car. The two men pried the brushes off and told me to try going forward. With a nervous eye roll and the same painful expression as the wheels scraped, I eventually drove over however many remaining rollers until I was outside.

Shaking, stressed, and about to cry, I stepped out of the car to admire the car wash's handiwork. While my wheel well dent was cleaner, the same side was scraped, the wheels were awful, and there was a dent (bend?) in the hood of the car under where the windshield wiper was. Oh boy, how was I going to explain this one?

For the next hour or so, I was on the phone with the rental company and filling out paperwork and answering questions. Do I know whose fault it was? Am I allowed to blame machinery? What was the weather like? I was in a car wash, does it matter? Did you have a passenger? Yeah, we were were at a car wash. Were you talking? Yeah, in the cash wash. Were my headlights on? I was in a car wash. (I hope my exasperation and stress levels are clear).

When all the paperwork was filed and done, we got back in the car (yes, drivable, as the rental company had asked), fighting tears and just ready to go home. Our vacation was done, and I just needed to feel the comfort of my own bed. 

As we were driving back to London in the dark, the events of the car wash behind us, we saw the most majestic meteor in front of us. It was large, bright, and green. Regardless of what I believe, I knew that shooting star was a sign that the worst was over, and that I would have a safe trip home. It was so beautiful, I actually got tears in my eyes. 

There's no real need to discuss the return trip home the next day, but I left knowing I had an extremely memorable experience...the good, the bad, and everything in between. I had learned a lot about myself, including the fact that I knew I wasn't going to step food (or tire) inside a car wash for a very long time. Even a couple of months after the fact, I continued to blame myself for the events in the car wash, but it wasn't until my friend Paul told me a similar thing had happened to his father, that I began to realize that it really wasn't my fault. 

My two weeks away taught me more about Icelandic culture, but actually not so much about English. But I had an amazing time seeing the gorgeous parts of the country, hanging with my friends, and bonding with my froommate (friend/roommate). This trip will provide with laughs and memories for a lifetime. If you are still reading, thank you for sticking with me all this time. Below, find more photos from our adventures, and now onto the next one.

Until next time,

Elissa

The Rugby ad at Cardiff Castle

Entrance to the Doctor Who Experience

The Water Tower (Torchwood Secret entrance)

Doctor Who Experience

Lineup of original costumes of the Doctors

LDN

Hello readers (if any of you still exist),

I'd like to preface my London thoughts with the following: Lily Allen once sang about London being all nice on the outside, but under the surface "you can see it's all lies."

As a London native, I'm sure she's right. But I think what she says goes for almost every city, especially a large one. That being said, I'm happy I got to see that marvelous outside.

Thursday 24 September 2015

Blessed with beautiful weather, we were excited to begin our day with a walk to Westminster Abbey. The city was abuzz with life and chatter about the Rugby World Cup. Coincidentally, we almost literally ran into the Romanian team on our way to Westminster, but that's besides the point. Westerminster, opened 1090 AD, delighted the art historian in me. Unfortunately, due to silly rules, I don't have any photos, and if only my words could describe the awe-inspiring craftsmanship of the beauty within those walls. Our audio guides told us much about the history of the Abbey, but some things that really stood out to me were Poet's Corner, and the fact that Mary Queen of Scot's rival Elizabeth was buried exactly opposite to her. I also find it important to state that I don't have many spiritual moments, but laying my eyes upon the beauty and history of Westminster, even in my pain and exhaustion, had me in tears for nearly every moment of my few hours being inside the Abbey.

From Westminster we walked/limped under Parliament and Big Ben. The guilding on the bell tower shines more brightly than any photo I've seen could ever convey. We knew our next stop was the boat tour, and so we boarded the hop-on-hop-off boat with our destination of Greenwich. Once in Greenwich, we explored fun & interactive Maritime Museum, the Chapel and the Painted Hall of the Royal University campus a bit, and I jokingly made comments about how the main courtyard(?) looked much better than it did when Thor visited in Thor: The Dark World. We limped up the large hill to the Royal Observatory to see the large telescope and Meridian Line, and a very spectacular view of the London Skyline, but sadly we missed entrance to the museum by fifteen minutes. But, we found a small garden instead, where we sat for a while, enjoying the tranquility and resting our ankles.

View from the Royal Observatory, overlooking London and Greenwich University

Because we missed the last boat back to London, we grabbed a pint of cider and some food at a pub in Greenwich, and decided we'd try the Tube back to the hostel. We hobbled about Greenwich along the water watching the sunset, before we hopped on the Overground line to Canary Wharf, where we got another gorgeous view of the sunset, and then figured out we had to take the Jubilee Line to Green Park, where we would catch the Victoria Line to our station in Pimlico. We entered the station, and Cerisa saw that a train was waiting and she, just a few steps ahead of me, got on...right as the doors closed. I will never forget the look on her face as the train pulled out of the station. Thankfully, because we had previously established our route and the next train was only two minutes away, we met up at Green Park and had a good laugh about being too eager to get on the Tube. Back in Pimlico, we stopped at the store to grab me a nightly bag of ice for my foot and knee, climbing five flights of stairs, before falling asleep.

The River Thames at sunset, from Greenwich

Friday, 25 September 2015

On Friday we hopped the Tube to Tower Bridge and London Tower. London Tower was full of a lot of interesting artifacts, replicas, stories, and enthusiastic actors portraying Anne Boleyn, George Boleyn, and miscellaneous other members of the kingdom. While the two of us marveled over the beauty of the crown jewels amidst jokes of me marrying Price Harry,and at the macabre torture instruments, the tower is infamous for, I found the most interesting parts of London Tower to be the sad and mysterious tale of the missing princes in the Bloody Tower. For those who aren't aware of the story, The Bloody Tower gets its name from the theory that two Princes, Edward V of England and Richard of Richard of Shrewsberry, the sons of Edward IV, were lodged in the tower after the death of their father by their uncle, Richard of Gloucester. Supposedly, this was in preparation for Edward's coronation. Instead, the boys disappeared and Richard (of Gloucester) took the throne. While all evidence is merely circumstantial, in 1694 a Tower work crew dug up a box containing two smaller skeletons believed to be the bodies of the two princes. While widely accepted, but not proven, that these two bodies are those of Edward V and young Richard, King Charles II had the two bodies buried in Westminster Abbey. 

After spending a few hours at the Tower,  we walked over to Tower Bridge, meandering through the exhibits, and making an uneasy Cerisa, who is afraid of heights, even more uneasy when I leaped onto the glass floor overlooking the Thames and the road at about 137 feet. But together we walked the glass floor, on both sides, and took some pretty cool selfies.

After Tower Bridge we explored the complexity of the HMS Belfast to kill some time so we could see the drawbridge open on Tower Bridge. We were so invested in what we were learning on Belfast, we almost missed the bridge opening...so close, in fact, that we only caught a glimpse of it as we were running down the sides of the boat to get to the bow so we could see it! Overall, though, the Belfast is an impressive war machine and was fun to explore--even with the "Warning: Asbestos!" signs everywhere!

We got some dinner at this outdoor/Tropical themed place just outside the Belfast called the London Riviera (well known for its chips, and they were the best I've had so far on this trip!) before hopping the Underground to Buckingham Palace. We arrived at the Palace at last light, just enough to see the guards outside starting to slip into shadow. Instead of harassing the guardsmen, we took a seat on the stairs of the sculpture out front and watched the moon rise over the London Eye (or Coca-Cola Eye, as it is technically) before heading back to the store for my nightly bag of ice, and then up to sleep. 

The sunset in over Victoria Memorial and the Eye near Buckingham Palace

Saturday, 26 September 2015

The 26th was rather casual in schedule, although crazy in nature. We spent the vast majority of the time running up charges on our Oyster card. As per the suggestion of a few people, we went to Camden Market...however, it was not the Camden Lock Market so....we saw a lot of street vendors, but not the artsy craft market that I was (not really?) expecting. We did get some cheap sweatshirts and some great Brazilian food lunch before heading in the direction of our next brief stop: the last Police Box in London. 

For those of you who don't know, or even for those of you who do, Cerisa and I are pretty big Doctor Who fans, and The Doctor's spaceship is an old 50s style police phone box. While it's not the famous TARDIS, it is the last remaining one in the city that resembles what is in the show, so we had to go out to see it and take a few pictures. We'll come back to Doctor Who later on.

We returned to London proper for our next stop: Platform 9 ¾ from Harry Potter! There was nothing extraordinary about Kings Cross station (although St. Pancras Station was gorgeous). We waited in line to take pictures with the fake cart and owl embedded in the 9 ¾ wall. What was actually really nice is they allowed you to take your own photos and they took the professional ones (of course we bought some). After spending some time in the gift shop, we went to walk along the Thames and see the inside of Shakespeare's Globe Theater. However, the latter didn't happen--they were mid-show so we had no luck. Instead, we acted like idiots and found an access ramp to touch the Thames, taking ridiculous pictures while doing so. After getting our hands dirty and cracking jokes about how the Thames tasted better than English tea, we carried on to what was known as the London Bridge Experience. The LBE was a combination of history, horror, and interaction, and it was a blast. After that, we were going to go on the Eye, but the line was too long, my feet hurt too much, and we were really hungry. So instead, we watched the sun set over Parliment, before finding food, getting ice for my knee, and going back to the hostel. 

Sunset over the Thames and Parliment, from next to the Eye

Sunday, September 27th 2015

Honestly, not whole lot to report about that day. It was museum day, so we first hit 221B Baker Street (The Sherlock Holmes Museum for the uncultured), followed by the Science Museum and then the Natural History Museum. The Sherlock Holmes museum was cool...it was tiny on the inside, set up as it was described in Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's novels, with Sherlock's, Dr. Watson's, and Ms. Hudson's room appropriately decorated--with pipes, bullet holes, medical books, and trinkets. Another one of the floors was dedicated to fan letters and uncanny life-size wax figurines of characters from the Holmes universe, such as Irene Adler and the arch nemesis himself, Jim Moriarty. 

Part of the Holmes home

At the Science Museum, there was a super cool exhibit called Cosmonauts which told Russia's side of the space race...and surprisingly the Natural History Museum felt kinda empty. Seemed like there was a lot missing from the museum. 

Perhaps the most exciting thing about that day was the night we spent on a Jack the Ripper tour. We had a really enthusiastic tour guide (who actually KNEW that New York was more than just the city, because he had lived in the Catskills for some time!). My favorite fact was that they had covered up all of the original crime scenes, except for one, in an attempt to shy the public away from the heinous crimes committed. Despite my aching feet, hurting knee, and overall fatigue, it was a really great end to an amazing time in London.

Until next time,
Elissa

Jack the Ripper Street Art

London Police Box

Tower Bridge, from the HMS Belfast

Tower of London

Extraordinary orientation in the chapel

HMS Belfast (I love the camouflage!)

Iceland: The Last, England: The First

Hello readers,

Oh boy has it been a few busy days. As I stated in my last entry (or at least, I think I stated) at the time of posting, our final day in Iceland had not yet come to an end.

22 September 2015

It began like the others: cloudy, rainy, and with a bit of that Icelandic chill. Our tour for the day, the volcano hike, wasn't scheduled until two that afternoon so we took the morning to sleep in a little later than usual, tackle Hallgrímskirkja's tower during the day, wander the streets, and of course, hit the Phallological Museum.

All of those were done with ease. While the church is easy to spot, finding the museum is more difficult. This time, after spending a long time looking for it last year, I knew just where to look. The same thing went for the pyslur (Icelandic hot dogs) stand I remembered, and so we even treated ourselves to one of those even though it wasn't quite noon yet.

We returned to the hostel to rest up and dry up before our tour. I received a rather disheartening email, that stated our volcano hike tour had been cancelled due to the weather. Although disappointed because it certainly had been one of the tours we were most excited for, Cerisa and I looked at each other and said, "We'll do it next time.

We spent the rest of the day catching up on our journals and blogs, laughing about the night before with the boys. Every time one of us said one of their names, they'd poke their head through the door and say hello. And thus, plans for going out later that night were made.

Our roommate of a few days, Micah, joined us at some point, and then we decided to all go out to dinner. We laughed through the rain to downtown Reykjavík to a bar and restaurant known as the, yes, Icelandic Bar. This was our destination because they were known to serve a bunch of Icelandic delicacies and traditional food. It was here that her friend Scott (a friendly Canadian) accompanied us.

Micah had told us horror stories about the infamous fermented shark dish at this restaurant...it is as it sounds. Six pieces of shark that had been left to ferment in a jar, served with a shot of brennivin (aka the "black death"). Micah told us of gagging, puking, and being only able to down one piece... I saw this as a challenge and must-eat, so with a When-In-Rome attitude, Cerisa and I stuck a toothpick into that shark and chewed on it. While my dear friend spit hers out, I actually found it just tasted like fish and wasn't as awful as they had exclaimed. In fact, I actually ate two pieces and would probably have eaten more had my tablemates not told the server to remove the delicacy from the table. For my main course, I decided to have a reindeer burger. Gamey and tasting much like venison, I wasn't too impressed (as I don't like venison) but it was anything but bad. It was quite delicious and cooked well, with a nice helping of crispy waffle fries on the side.

After dinner, the four of us (Scott, Micah, Cerisa, and myself) met up with the Dans (the Englishmen from the night before) and headed to a bar called Skuli just off the city center downtown. Cerisa and I  (and Micah, too, as we had found out) had a shuttle to catch just before 3am for our flight (which Micah was on, hence the shuttle pickup for her as well), so we decided to just stay up all night instead of catching a wink of sleep. We hung out at Skuli for a couple hours, picking up two other friends of Micah's from the City of Brotherly love before heading to the next bar, an American retro-themed bar called the Lebowski bar, where we met Patryk and a new girl he brought along from the Netherlands named Susannah. We sat in the back of the Lebowski bar until we decided it was time to hit one more bar. Not much to be said about this bar, other than the fact that it was the last one we visited, and another person from our hostel joined us. Last call was earlier than I imagined, and we were kicked out of the bar at 1am or so, so after being kicked out we all linked arms and walked.

As we walked arm in arm, the devastatingly charming Dans started singing some song at the top of their lungs, which attracted some drunk Irishmen (redundant again). One of them came up behind Cerisa, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on her shoulder. She was okay with it, intoxicated herself, and laughing along with him, until he literally picked her up and started trying to carry her away. She managed to keep the Irishman at bay until we reached the hostel. The point where I stepped in was where he repeatedly tried to get her upstairs into his room.

"She can't go with you," I said, "we have a plane to catch."

"I'll only be a minute," he slurred.

Taking her arm I smugly replied, "Well, if you only take a minute, you're not worth her time." And with that I pulled her away.

It remains one of the wittiest things I have ever said to this day.

Wednesday, 23 September 2015

Our night with our new friends ended with us seated around a table in the hostel lounge, laughing loudly and belligerently, with the Dan we dubbed "Quiet Dan" laying down on the table drinking cheap Amaretto from a flask, which wasn't doing a whole lot for his consciousness. The hour or so we had before the shuttle pickup flew by, and when the time came for us to depart, it was met with sad hugs for friendships passing in the night. In my exhaustion, I also twisted my ankle lugging my luggage down the stairs but I was so tired at the time I didn't care.

The shuttle ride to the airport was dark and without sleep. Micah for some strange reason, despite her being on our flight, was not allowed on our shuttle so we didn't see her until we were at the gate...but that may have been because I passed out at a table in the airport food court until it was close to the time of departure. Supposedly, the food court had been kicking people out unless they had purchased something, but they left me undisturbed. Thanks, strangers!

I can't recall the flight to England, but that may have been because I put my headphones in so I could hopefully catch more shut eye while listening to my new Kaleo CD (Kaleo is an Icelandic artist I had stumbled across a few weeks earlier and whose music was only available in Iceland, so lucky for me I was going to Iceland, and knew where to look in Reykjavik for just such a thing!) And I did. I woke up just before the captain announced our descent into Gatwick.

We waited for Micah as we disembarked the airplane, and I turned on my phone (which I had set up so I could text and use data while in the UK), telling my parents of my safe arrival in England and to vaguely text my friend Tom the number of days until our visit with him (which was 9 at the time, if I recall).  Together, the three of us bought train tickets to Victoria station, near to me and Cerisa's hostel. Micah was going to see if she could stay in our hostel. Due to the influx of visitors in London because of the Rugby World Cup, the hostel sadly did not have a spare bed for her that night.

After climbing five flights of stairs to our room (and me, again in my exhaustion, tripped and fell at the top and hit my knee), we took a short nap before we went out to find dinner.

Our venture to find dinner post-nap was mostly that...a venture. We wandered (or more accurately, I limped due to my ankle) around London near our hotel until we found a place just across the Thames. The venue was nice; it was right on the water, had a beautiful view of some of the famous sights downriver, and wasn't terribly expensive. I got to try grilled halloumi, a cheese I had never had before. It was quite delicious. On our way back to the hostel, naturally in my clumsiness and exhaustion and dim lighting I tripped on an uneven slab of stone and smashed my knee, my bad knee, pretty viciously. I knew as soon as I stood up that I had done some damage. I wasn't bleeding, but my knee was suddenly very swollen and I was concerned about it filling with fluid like the last time I had hit it.

Laughing it off, we set off to find me an ice pack. Luckily, there was a small convenient store just down the street from the hostel. They didn't have an ice pack, but they did have a bag of ice, and so I sat in the hostel room with a bag of ice draped over my swollen and purple knee, and my swollen ankle.

I suppose I'll make a new entry for my full days in London. Stay tuned!

Until next time,

Elissa

L-R: [Blurry] Susannah, Patryk, Quiet Dan, Cerisa, Myself, Scott, Micah, Loud Dan, and no idea--she just randomly joined the photo

Iceland Round 2: The Mountain Is A Lie

Hello readers (if any of you still exist),

Happy planes

Sorry in advance. I don't have a ton of pictures to include in my journal, just what has essentially been uploaded to Facebook....As always, click on the photos to see them larger. Anyway, what a fun couple of days it has been. On Friday the 18th Cerisa and I began our journey with 2.5 hour drive to Boston (courtesy of our dear friend Jimmy), so we could depart from Logan International. We flew WOW Airlines, a budget Icelandic airline (with very happy planes) that obviously provides you the discounted rates, but without the amenities (like provided drinks, meals, etc.) The flight attendants were pleasant, the seats were normal and about as roomy as any other airline. Overall, I'd recommend them and I'd fly with them again.

We landed in Reykjavik at 4:50am. We collected our luggage relatively quickly and were on the shuttles to take us to the hostel probably by 5:30. We were certainly exhausted, but didn't sleep on the bus. I actually didn't catch much sleep on the plane (more like a doze) and didn't sleep on the shuttle, so after we got to the hostel (since weren't allowed to check in until 2pm), I chilled out on the couch and took a half hour snooze before our tour at 9am.

At 8:30 our shuttle for the first tour of our trip, the whale watch, picked us up. I won't go into much detail about that part really...the tour guide wasn't nearly as good as the one I had last year. It was rainy and cold, so the vistas of the mountains, even the ones right out front of the hostel, were nonexistent, and the waves were large and rocked the boat in a pretty significant manner if we were being hit by them on the long side of the boat. I guess it got choppy enough that they had to cancel the second tour of the day at 2pm. While we did not see any minke whales (like Peanut!), we did, however, see some beautiful atlantic white-side dolfins leaping, breaching, playing, and bow-riding. I'm glad we saw some amazing marine life on Cerisa's first whale watch!

For lunch we proceeded to eat at the same place I went last time for the kebabs and lobster soup (the place that sold the minke whale steaks), known as the Sea Baron (or Sægreifinn in Icelandic). I was just as satisfied with my food, and Cerisa (who has avoided seafood under the lifelong assumption that she does not like seafood) tried my soup and was rather impressed by the fact that she did not hate it...dare I say, she possibly even liked it.

After our lunch we headed on over to the Whales of Iceland museum. This museum included life-size (what looked to be) paper mache models of the whales suspended majestically from the ceiling. This delighted me, of course, as an avid whale lover. But my whale experience has always been seeing them in the water bits at a time, or full-body models as small figurines...to see them life-size was amazing. You simply cannot grasp how enormous and graceful a Humpback whale looks, or how big killer whale looks, or how large the jaws of a Sperm whale are until you stick your face in them and pose for a photo. It made me feel very small and fueled my wonder for these beautiful animals. After we saw the whales, we sat in the museum cafe falling asleep in front of a cup of coffee killing time before our next tour at 3...the dim blue light was not helping us stay awake in our 29 hours (with at least 6 more to go) without sleep.

However, that day was not all good. There was a miscommunication between me and the tour clerk at the morning tour and I thought our tour had started at three, so that was when we showed up to the pickup spot. Our tour did start at three, but pickup was at 2:15. So sadly, we missed the tour where we go to Silfra and snorkel in the glacial waters...It is all good though, we were able to get in a power nap and shower before heading out to find dinner.

We found this restaurant called Hressó Hressingarskálinn. The atmosphere was nice, the food was delicious, and we enjoyed ourselves. It took us at least 2 hours in the restaurant, which was a nice reminder that we Americans are so used to being in a rush with our food that sometimes it's okay to sit back and relax for a while. After dinner and a quick stop at the supermarket, we proceeded directly to bed and were out like lamps as soon as we hit the pillow. 36 hours awake sure does a number on you.

20 September 2015

We were up bright and early (well, just early...couldn't so much say it was bright because it was mostly raining) for our tour of Iceland's south shore. The rain didn't let up for the entire day, except for the one beautiful double rainbow we had as we were waiting for our shuttle to arrive.

Our first stop was the ‎Mýdalskjökll‬ ‪glacier‬, not too far from where the Eyjafjallajökull volcano erupted in 2010. We walked the path that led us to a wonderful vantage point (seen below). But we had so much fun ignoring the sign that said "Do not proceed past this point. Unstable terrain and chance of calving." After all, we got to touch the glacier! But let me tell you, words cannot describe the beauty of this scene. The contrast between the blue-white of the glacier and the brown-green of the mountain was breathtaking. Add the mist and the fog, and you've got one moody scene.

Mýdalskjökll‬ ‪glacier

That same mood could be applied to any other one of the majestic landscapes we saw: the massive waves thundering against the eroded rock towers of Reynifsjara Hálsanefshellir; the fantastical black sand beaches of Vík, or the enormous, misting Skógafoss and Seljalandsfoss

Skógafoss

Seljalandsfoss, in which you can walk behind the falls

In between the two waterfalls, we had the opportunity to stop for a little bit at the Icelandic Folk Museum, a museum that cataloged life for the Icelandic farm folk throughout time. You step inside, and you see all of these artifacts suspended on the wall. They look ages old, made from driftwood and bone, ornate and fragile. 

But as the guide starts speaking, it amazes you because some of it may not actually be that old. The South Shore was isolated from the capital at least until the 1920s, when the first bridges were being built connecting the south with the rest of the island. We learned that people in that area lived essentially in the stone ages until well into the 20th century (around WWII). When the British and the Americans invaded to stop Germany from invading, the first airstrip was built in Iceland. As you're driving the Icelandic countryside, you will notice it is very flat and barren in many areas, and there's not a lot of foliage other than some grass and mosses. Trees are a rarity, and therefore wood is a precious resource. Many houses and household items (like bowls) were made from driftwood (most often from countries like Norway, Sweden, Denmark, and the UK). Because wood was so rare, and these farmers didn't have heat they would have to burn manure, which as you can imagine doesn't smell great and creates a lot of smoke. Because of this, the houses didn't have heat and the way they kept warm was layer upon layer of wool, and sleeping 2-3 people to a bed, where you had had to sleep sitting up because they weren't long enough to lay down in. Also because metal was such a precious resource, utensils were made out of cow bones. Cow bones get soft when heated and therefore can be molded into spoons. The irony here, however, is that in order to eat that traditional hot Icelandic meat stew, you would need a spoon...soup is hot, spoon gets soft in heat...you get the picture

There were other interesting facts about the south Icelandic folk beyond the scarcity of resources. Despite the harsh stone-age conditions, learning to read and write was mandatory. Even in the winters, you were guaranteed a teacher for at least one month per winter to help you learn. Additionally, due to being so isolated and trying to translate everything, the Icelandic language has changed very little over the course of its long history. In fact, it has changed so little that those who know the language can easily translate ancient documents written in the language. Also interestingly enough, many people still believe in the pagan tales of trolls (hiding in the mountains and turned to stone at the touch of sunlight), hidden folk, elves, fairies, and much more. 

The story of the hidden people, or Huldufólk is quite interesting and comes from a couple of legends. The following story I have seen a few times in different places, written or oral, throughout my trip:

Once upon a time, God Almighty came to visit Adam and Eve. They received him with joy, and showed him everything they had in the house. They also brought their children to him, to show him, and these He found promising and full of hope. 

Then He asked Eve whether she had no other children than these whom she now showed him. 

She said "None." 

But it so happened that she had not finished washing them all, and, being ashamed to let God see them dirty, had hidden the unwashed ones. This God knew well, and said therefore to her, "What man hides from God, God will hide from man." 

These unwashed children became forthwith invisible, and took up their abode in mounds, and hills, and rocks. From these are the elves descended, but we men from those of Eve's children whom she had openly and frankly shown to God. And it is only by the will and desire of the elves themselves that men can ever see them.

You can read the second legend here.

Hallgrímskirkja

We ended our South Shore trip soaked to the bone from the rain, but we returned to the hostel full of knowledge and sights of new places. After a warm shower (I gave the communal shower a shot, which was nerve-wracking for me), we headed out to find dinner. We wound up at this place called Kol right on the main street leading up to Hallgrímskirkja, which is so stunning at night I might add.  Kol was dimly lit and had a lovely ambiance, with freshly baked dark bread and homemade butter to snack on while we waited for our food. While neither one of us were overly impressed with our meals, we did enjoy them. I had a seafood soup (with shrimp, scallops, and what appeared to be caviar of some sort) with some tuna finger snacks, and Cerisa had a ox brisket risotto. We treated ourselves to a selection of the restaurant's dessert sampler containing a passion fruit cheese cake, traditional skyr with berries, hazelnut parfait, and homemade sorbet, but after waiting for 45 minutes, the waitress told us that the dessert was on the house! We definitely enjoyed the desserts more that they were not only delicious, but free!

Still exhausted from our jet lag and having a really early tour (6:30am pickup) the next morning, we were going to go straight to bed once we got back to the hostel. However, as we were preparing for bed, our roommate came in and exclaimed "Northern lights!" So, in an excited rush, we went outside in front of the hostel and waited. Lo and behold, there they were: a ribbon of pale green flashing and pulsing as it ribboned across the sky, brighter and brighter as the night went on. It was incredible, although nothing like I'd seen in pictures..but that's because pictures are long-exposure and absorb more of the light over time than we are seeing. I almost had tears in my eyes at the sight though. Incredible doesn't sum it up. Oh, how I wish I had my tripod, but I made due and am quite satisfied with how my photos turned out.

Aurora borealis over Reykjavik

21 September 2015

We woke up bright and early for our next tour: the Golden Circle. When we got on the shuttle, the sun wasn't even up yet. But they day proved to be sunny and clear and perfect for The Golden Circle. The Golden Circle is Iceland's most popular tour, but likely because of the hour, our tour only had 8 people. The older couple sitting in front of us was from Western Massachusetts, and happened to have a daughter who not only lived in Albany, but also went to The College of Saint Rose like us. Small world!

Our tour guide, a strawberry blond fellow named Bergur, was great, especially with such a small group. He was very pleasant and informational. He asked us about ourselves, talked to us about all of the different places we were visiting, and even took us to a spot which isn't on the tour (no, really).

Our first stop was Friðheimar, a greenhouse that grows produce such as tomatoes and cucumbers all year round. Inside was as you'd expect, warm  and smelled a bit like dirt, but there were thousands of tomato plants almost ready to sprout their fruit. After we learned a bit about the growing process, we sat down for a delicious breakfast of fresh homemade tomato soup, bloody marys (with a fresh slice of cucumber!), and fresh bread.

Then we continued on to our ad hoc stop, a place known as Faxi (or Vatnsleysufoss) , a beautiful scenic point overlooking the countryside. We were only here for five minutes, as opposed to the 45 or so minutes we spent at the other locations on the tour, so I only had a few moments to snap a couple of photos.

Faxi/Vatnsleysufoss

Our third stop (second official) was at Gullfoss, or Golden Falls, and the White River. These giant thundering falls, although smaller, were comparable in beauty to that of Niagara Falls or the falls at Lechworth State Park. They were so totally stunning, throwing mist everywhere. If the sun were higher, I think we could have seen them with rainbows, as they are famous for.

Gullfoss cascading into the White River

Our penultimate stop was Geysir, Strokkuu, and the hot springs. Geysir is where the word "Geyser" gets its name. Geysir erupts once every 4-8 months, while Strokkur is the reliably active, although unpredictable force of nature. Every 5 minutes or so, Strokkur will throw boiling water up into the air, whether ten feet or 80 feet (as we got to witness), only once every few minutes, or three times in a row (as we also got to witness). This was my first geyser, so I was very impressed.

Our final stop was at þingvellir National Park, where I snorkeled last year but didn't get to see much beyond the water. To refresh: þingvellir is where the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates are pulling apart and the land is raised or lowered depending on how the plates are moving on either side. Boy, was it beautiful. The jagged rifts of the land pulling apart at the seams (because of the tectonic plates), the sunshine with the rain in the distance, the majesty of the mountains, the tiny church and houses below, the glistening water, and the pale rainbow lingering in the distance. It was the epitome of what Iceland is. It is fantastical, magical, and it is so easy to see why I fell in love with it. It's practically a fantasy a world. 

þingvellir from the Eurasian side

þingvellir from the North American side

After Golden Circle we headed out for what we knew would be a short trip to Blue Lagoon. Our bus left at 5, and we needed to get on the 7:15 bus back to Reykjavík so we could get the 10pm Northern Lights Tour (There was no 8:15 bus, and the 9:15 bus would get us back too late). We enjoyed our short time in the pool and hurried out to catch the bus back. Out in the the parking lot at 7:05, there were two buses waiting in the lot, one without a driver, and one with a sign saying "Keflavik Airport" with people with luggage getting on. We even heard the driver say said they were going to the airport, so we didn't get on. We should have. That bus apparently went to wear we needed to be. Frustrated, we walked in circles for a few moments wondering what to do, but along came a taxi. Expensive (although not as expensive as we dreaded) we had a way back. The driver was very kind. He turned on the WiFi (yes, folks, everything and everyone and everywhere has WiFi in Iceland), put on music he (hoped) we liked and knew, and made conversation with us. It was funny when he put on "Uptown Funk" (you know the one) and seemed surprised that we knew the song. I proceeded to ask him if he knew what a "a fresh jar of Skippy meant." He admitted he had no idea, and laughed when I told him it was a jar of peanut butter. Overall, it was a lovely ride, especially with the sun setting over the mountains on my left. 

We got back in time for our Northern Lights tour, and while waiting outside the hostel we made the acquaintance of a few handsome Englishmen (by the names of Dan, Dan, Will, and Marty), and an equally handsome Californian by the name of Patryk. While after the shuttle dropped us at the bus station we lost Will and Marty, Dan2, Patrick, Cerisa, and myself stayed together and had a blast on the Northern Lights tour. While we only got to see one (pretty impressive) display of dancing lights, we did get to see quite the amazing night sky and had many laughs. We got back to the hostel around 2am, and I fell asleep practically as soon as my head hit the pillow. 

22 September 2015

Because my day isn't over yet, I'll try to leave my eyes open to write a summary tomorrow on the plane of my adventures (or non adventures) of my final day in Iceland...we'll see. :)

--

Miscellaneous observations:

• Aforementioned WiFi everywhere
• There might be less emphasis on hygiene in restaurants. One place we visited clearly did not wipe down tables and they had no problem with business (line was out the door), and the people in the hostel seem to handle food with their bare hands (clean, surely, but all the same an interesting observation)
• Why do American bathroom stalls have gaps between the door and the other side of the latch? Nowhere in Europe seems to have that. 
• Icelandic people genuinely care whether or not you are having a good time, you are enjoying yourself or your food, etc. 
• Typically, European cars are very small...In Iceland, I'd say that perhaps the ratio of SUVs person is more than in the US. I theorize that this is because of the highlands and the rugged terrain, and of course, the winters. 
• Businesses, including supermarkets, close at strange hours, although this may in fact also be a general European thing. I may have noticed this in Denmark, but cannot recall. 
• Day 4, still haven't seen a police officer. 
• This was not something I would have noticed last time, but the abundance of written (and even spoken) Danish is prevalent. Also, how Icelandic is so similar yet so different from Danish. 
• Last time I spoke of how contemporary and modern the design and architecture was here. Also how everyone is "recently" speaking of tourism to Iceland, but after my tour on Sunday, I realized that may (in regards to the design at least) be because of how recently industrialized and modern Iceland is comparatively to the rest of the modern world. Like I said, it really have a hold in the international tourist industry probably until the late half of the 20th century, 

I think that is all my thoughts for now....

Until next time,

Elissa

PS: Some of you may be wondering why the mountain is a lie. Well that is because the large mountain that is right outside of the hostel, known as Esjan I believe, has not been visible due to the density of fog, mist, and rain, for three of the four days we have been in this country.