The Follies of Iceland

Ever since my first 24 hours spent in and around Reykjavik on my way to Helsinki back in late May, I've been looking forward to returning to Iceland to explore more of the strange and beautiful country. Unfortunately, due to illness, and a decided lack of preparation on my part, what transpired over the 10 days that I had in the country wound up feeling a lot more like a "practice run" than a proper exploration.

For starters, the mystery illness.... while I did manage to get my voice mostly back just a few hours before our arrival in Seydisfjordur, the sore throat persisted through the rest of my stay, flaring up on occasion to the point where I could barely stand to eat or drink anything. This made sleep difficult, especially when camping, and severely dulled my desire to go out and drink with the locals (my favorite travel pastime) even when there did actually happen to be a bar around. It also meant that I was scratching any and all forms of hiking or trekking off of my to-do list, for fear I should wind up exhausted, ill, cold, and alone in the absolute middle of nowhere. This was a particular shame, because there were many multi-day treks through the desolate highlands available that looked like great fun, had I the energy to tackle them.

Problem number two was transportation. When I sold the bike and realized I was NOT going to be cycling in Iceland, I figured I would most likely hitchhike my way around it back to Reykjavik.  Contrary to the fears instilled in us as Americans, hitchhiking is actually incredibly common in Iceland, and incredibly safe. It also seemed like a great way to meet new people along the way.  Unfortunately, it can also be a bit difficult, depending on where in the country you find yourself.  In the more popular tourist areas around Reykjavik and the Golden Circle, you've got an endless supply of cars going past you pretty much all the time.  In the east, where I was starting my trip, there are stretches of road where you might not see a car for an hour or more.  As I was still on shaky ground health-wise, I did NOT relish the idea of standing on the side of the road in the rain for possibly hours on end waiting for a ride, and so I decided to use the busses.

Busses in Iceland are mainly tourist traps.  In fact, the bulk of Iceland's economy is geared toward charging tourists exorbitant amounts of money for everything. Not that I blame them for this. On the contrary, I think its admirable how they've turned their economy around using their own natural resources (while also preserving and protecting them).  But as a tourist, it can get frustrating at times.  There's one national bus system in Iceland, with prices that are actually pretty reasonable. Trouble is, it's hardly what I would call "extensive". It was definitely NOT going to get me from Seydisfjordur to Reykjavik.  To fill in the (large) gaps left by this system, I had to use the "tourist" busses.  Though cleverly disguised as "regular" busses through the use of route numbers and printed bus schedules, these are, in actuality, all run by one of several Icelandic tour companies, and so charge a bloody FORTUNE to get you from point A to B.  This led to me spending more money than I would have liked on this segment of the trip, and (with the exception of one bus that brought me from Akureyri to Geysir through the highlands) left me pretty much a slave to the ring road, which while convenient, doesn't deliver the awe-inspiring scenery of the desolate highlands in the middle of the country.

About halfway through my time there, I realized that I had done Iceland all wrong, and already began to formulate a plan to come back at some point in the future and do it right! Firstly, I would NOT go alone.  Being that the country is so desolate (the population of the entire country is 350,000...that's HALF the population of the city of Seattle) it's not as easy to make friends as it was in other places I'd visited. Plus, if I wanted to do a multi-day trek without paying a huge fee to be a part of an organized tour group, I'd certainly want at least one trekking buddy with me.  Furthermore, it only makes financial sense to rent a car if you're traveling as a group, and I had also decided that a car rental is a MUST in order to have the freedom to explore the really cool, off the beaten track places. Friends. Rental Car. Good Health. The Iceland essentials.

Despite the foibles, I did still manage to have a good time in Iceland. It's just so damned beautiful, how could I not?  I also ticked a good number of things off the to-do list:

Ride Icelandic Horse: Check!

Watch a Geysir Explode: Check!

 

Badass Waterfalls: Check!

Camp by a Massive Lake Swarming with Midges: Check!

Ride a Bus in a Cloud: Check!
(This is literally the view out the busses front window..no editing... Driver didn't even slow down... like a boss!)

 

I even managed to hitchhike from Geysir to Selfoss and, I think, broke some kind of world record in doing so.  Two rides acquired to get from A to B, and a whopping total of 3 minutes spent standing on the side of the road to get them! If I'd realized it was just that easy, I'd have done more of it!

 

And so I left Iceland, having hit my expiration date in the Shengen Visa Zone, making my escape to the beauty that is Ireland. A visit to a walk-in clinic in Dublin upon my arrival revealed strep throat to be the most likely culprit behind the mystery illness (weirdly, this is the first time in my life I can remember ever having strep throat) and already, after a good night's sleep and the first few doses of my new antibiotic, I'm feeling a bit better.  The final leg of this adventure is in full swing. Time to get my Irish on!

 

Yo-Ho-Ho and a Packet of Strepsils

I don't know what kind of schizophrenic virus has taken over my body in the last week, but the hits just keep on coming! The fever from hell that hit me back at Elsinore castle broke nearly as quickly as it had come on, after half a night of alternating between severe chills, and severe sweats. Thankfully, this left me in good enough condition to make my train to Aarhus the following day. In fact, by the time I got to Aarhus, all that seemed to be left of it was a bit of a scratchy throat. I was feeling pretty optimistic that the worst was over...but not SO optimistic that I thought wandering the streets in the pouring rain was a good idea. So I gave myself a rest day at the hotel to recuperate and watch some weird Danish TV.

Then it was on to Skagen, a lovely little beach town that reminded me a bit of Bainbridge Island, though sadly the sun wasn't cooperating with me here, either. At least there wasn't any actual rain.

Downtown Skagen

From Skagen, the next stop was Hirtshals, the port town from which I was to catch my boat to Iceland. The sun made one final appearance and so I was able to soak up some rays on what I was pretty sure would be my last day of proper "summer" on this trip.

But the mystery virus wasn't quite done with me yet....My scratchy throat was beginning to flare up again as I rolled into town, and after a VERY late night up chatting/drinking with new friends I made at the hostel (two of whom were going to be on the boat with me), I woke up this morning completely unable to speak above a whisper. Fantastic!

Feeling once again less than stellar, and in the name of trying NOT to infect everyone else on the boat, I shelled out for an upgrade to my own cabin instead of the berth I had booked in a room of six.  Not cheap, but probably the best investment I've made so far on this trip. At least I have a place to suffer in peace.

And so I find myself now on the high seas...the Norwegian Sea, to be specific, on my first ever cruise. While it surely pales in comparison to a major cruise liner, there's plenty to do on board to keep me occupied for the next 47 hours. Probably won't be making any new friends, though...unless I find someone who's really good at charades!

Something is Rotten in Denmark

Int. A Hall in Elsinore Castle

Literally, I wrote that sentence while standing in a hall in Kronborg Castle in the town of Helsingør, AKA Elsinore.  The rest of it, I'm writing back at my hotel. There absolutely is something rotten in Denmark today, but unfortunately that thing is me. Despite a valiant effort by both of us to prevent this from happening, the little virus that could, which put a damper on the majority of my friend's time in Europe seems to have jumped ship from her to me at some point.  Headachy, dizzy, throat on fire, a bit nauseated and most likely a bit feverish. Not fun! Thankfully, I had the presence of mind to stop into the pharmacy in Sweden (where I went to spend one last night after my friend left for NYC) this morning before returning to Denmark. My symptoms weren't bad enough at that point that I was sure I was getting sick, but I thought "better safe than sorry"! If there's one thing we learned in Copenhagen, its that Denmark has a weird aversion to cold medicines that actually work. Sweden, hopefully, does a bit better on that front!

Anyway, after an incredibly trying morning spent wandering the streets aimlessly in search of a not-so-very-well-signposted tourist information bureau (the bane of my existence, my POS Motorola cell phone, despite being fully charged overnight, decided to shut off just before I was able to get directions to, or even the address of my hotel! Thought for sure it was a goner this time, but after an hour plugged in at the hotel, it just as mysteriously came back to life.) I made it to my hotel, and realized that I was most definitely sick! But I came to Helsingør to see Hamlet's castle, damnit, and so I mustered up just enough energy to get on the bus out there, stumble around the halls and dungeon casemates, and bus back to my hotel, where I have been ensconced in bed ever since!

Every part of me wishes I could stay here another night, but I've already booked my train to Århus for tomorrow afternoon. Thankfully, I am staying there for two nights, so hopefully I'll have enough time to rest and kick the worst of this cold before I have to get on a boat and sail two days to freezing cold Iceland! But for now, "I die, Horatio"....

The Traveler vs. The Tourist

I realize I've neglected this blog for the better part of two weeks now, but there's a very good reason for that...I've not had the time!  The last 16 days have seen me in Stavanger, driving and hiking through the fjords, back in Stavanger again, then to Oslo, Stockholm, Gothenburg (or more correctly the "suburb" of Alingsas), and finally Copenhagen. If there's one thing all of this madcap touristing has made abundantly clear to me, it's that there is a very definite difference between a "traveler" and a "tourist", and while I am an excellent traveler, I am a terrible tourist! I much prefer wandering aimlessly through the streets of a new city only stopping to take the occasional photo of a building or a park that moves me, or to settle into an interesting watering hole and mingle with the locals than I do dashing from tourist trap to tourist trap, taking endless amounts of photos and checking things off a "to-do" list. I just don't have that kind of energy! But when time is short and the list of things to see is long, sometimes, it's gotta be done.  It would take me ages to properly describe everything that I got up to in the last couple weeks, and as we've established, I'm a bit lazy...So instead, I give you the highlight reel:

Stavanger: I walked into a bar to get a beer. Started chatting with the bar owner. Next thing I know, he's introducing me to all the regulars around the bar, and offering up his flat in Gamle Stavanger for me to stay in the following week when I return to town, while he and his roommate are away in Croatia. Between that unbelievable display of hospitality, my very gracious couch surfing hosts, another couch surfer who showed me around the food festival, and another of the bartenders at Bar Bache who made a delicious lasagna dinner for us on my last night in town, I really felt like I made myself at home here. The people in this town go a long way toward battling the "unfriendly Norwegian" stereotype, and I've definitely found my "Cheers" in Bar Bache  (I've even got a bet with one of the regulars about the upcoming presidential elections...When a democrat takes the White House, I will be returning to collect!)

 

Gamle Stavanger. My favorite neighborhood.

The color street.

The Fjords:  In a continuing lesson on how certain English words don't have the same meaning to Norwegians as they do to the rest of the world, I give you "hiking".  In America, going for a hike generally means walking along a fairly well-groomed and not-too-terribly-steep path located somewhere in a natural setting.  In Norway, hiking means scrambling your way up this:

Or this:

Or this:

Depending on where you want to hike, it also means wading through snow...even in the middle of July.  I very quickly realized that I am far too much of a chicken to tackle most of these "hikes" by myself.  I did find some slightly-less-terrifying alternatives, though, and a whole lot of awesome waterfalls. To Kjerag and Trolltunga: I shall return...with reinforcements!

So...

Many...

Waterfalls!

Oslo: There's not a lot of love among Norwegians for their capital city...at least not among most of the Norwegians I met along the way. When asked about Oslo, mostly I was met with a shrug of the shoulders and an unenthusiastic "Meh".  This left me a bit sad to be leaving my favorite city of Stavanger to head east, but it would have been silly to have spent a month and a half in Norway without seeing the capital city.  I found Oslo to be a perfectly lovely place, with everything you'd want in a major European city...except with an outrageously high price tag. I had long since adjusted to the fact that everything in Norway was more expensive to me than what I was used to at home, but Oslo takes this to a whole other level. How anyone manages to make ends meet here is beyond me! I was glad I only had a day and a half before it was off to Stockholm.

The Opera House

Downtown

Vigelandspark

Stockholm:  Holy s%*& is this place huge and beautiful! Everywhere you look there's another massive and stunning building and none of my photos do it any justice at all (mostly because my crap cell phone decided to turn the whole screen black whenever I went to take a photo, so I was mostly shooting blind...thanks, Motorola!)   I had two days to see as much of it as possible and so I invested in the Stockholm card, which led to two days spent dashing from museum to museum and from buses to trolleys to trains to boats. Exactly the kind of touristing that I am not generally a big fan of. I did manage to find a chain of Boston sports bars, though, and even had time to pop into a local pub and make friends with a bunch of the regulars (ahhh, that's more like it!)  Definitely a city I could see coming back to explore more properly in the future.

Some pretty buildings

More cool buildings

Yup, this is a thing

Gothenburg/Alingsas:  One of my favorite parts of the whole trip, mainly because it was a chance to meet a branch of my family I hadn't ever met before! Turns out I've had a 2nd cousin living in Sweden for the last 22 years, and turns out she's freakin' awesome! After a week spent running around like a crazed tourist, it was lovely to spend a couple relaxing days boating with her family, talking about relatives, and making a new best friend in their dog, Diva! I even got a whirlwind tour of Gothenburg on the way to the train.

Diva the boat dog

Shellfish

Boat Life

And so this brings us to Copenhagen, where I find myself currently. A good friend of mine from NYC (who I met 10 years ago in Paris!) flew in to meet me here and we've spent the past few days wandering the city, doing more shopping than I personally have probably done all year, and being mesmerized by the strange electronic billboard outside the window of the Air B'n'B flat we're staying in, that spews forth a never-ending array of fascinating nonsense like this:

It's a great city, with a great energy, and an absolutely inexplicable dedication to (nay, obsession with) tapas style restaurants. Seriously, if you want to have a non-fancy, unpretentious dinner that consists of one decent-sized main entree per person, you're kind of out of luck in this city. If you're a foodie, on the other hand, this is your paradise...just be prepared for the hefty price tag that accompanies it!

A Copenhagen canal

Girls night out

Arrrrr.....

Yup...

Whew! Typing all of that was almost as exhausting as living it, in the best possible way.  Off now to enjoy one last girls night on the town in Copenhagen before my current travel companion takes off for home and I head up to "Elsinore" castle to get my Shakespeare on.

How (Not) To Pick Up A Norwegian

In the vast majority of Europe, just being female seems to be enough to attract the undying attention of nearly every male in a 10 mile radius. While this might initially make for a nice little ego boost in those of us who are raised to feel that we have to compete for attention in our own home countries, (I was once followed three blocks from the pharmacy in Paris where I had gone to buy medicine to fight off the head cold from hell. No makeup, hair a mess, dressed in sweats, and spreading the plauge...Really? This is attractive to you?) the novelty generally wears off pretty quickly. In Norway, a country packed to the gills with tall, broad shouldered, blue eyed Vikings who I wouldn't necessarily mind following me three blocks in any given direction, I have had no such luck. Maybe it's down to the fact that there are so many conventionally attractive men here that they don't feel the need to be as...outgoing...as some of their Southern European counterparts...or maybe it's just down to the bizarre set of "dating" rituals they seem to have come up with around here that I still can't quite wrap my head around. 

"Dating" was never a high priority for me on this trip, but I am single and I am alive, so I kind of can't help but notice the abundance of men here who are in line with my type...and by "type" I basically just mean tall. Plus, the majority of my couch surf hosts have been single women so the topic of dating does tend to come up in conversation a lot. What I've taken away from these conversations is that dating in Norway is a convoluted and confusing two-way-street of secret codes...and I'm no Alan Turing. These are some of the things I've heard from local women since I've been here:

-If a Norwegian guy likes you, he'll just stare at you from across the bar. If you like him too, stare back. Game on....

-Its perfectly acceptable, and in most cases required, for a woman to approach a guy in a bar and give him her number, or invite him to join her. Score one for 'girl power'. 

-If a Norwegian guy does actually approach you, and says what sounds like "har du en pris?", he is not, in fact, asking if you have a price- the literal translation of that sentence- He's asking if you have chewing tobacco, which is weirdly popular here. Best not to ask if he's calling you a hooker. (This one I learned on my own) **Edit: I've since been told that Snus, as they call it, is NOT chewing tobacco. It's similar, but stronger and pre-divided in individual little "tea bags" that eliminate the need for spitting**

-"Your place or mine?" (or the Norwegian equivalent thereof) is a perfectly acceptable opening line at a bar, often met with an actual answer, rather than a drink in the face. Here they shoot first and ask questions later. 

-Out hiking a mountain? Wear a green headband. This signals you're single and looking to mingle. Red means "back off I'm taken". Seriously, this is a thing...

In short, if you're a woman who likes to be pursued a little bit by the opposite sex, Norway is not your country. The work goes both ways here, for better or worse. Factor in the language barrier (nearly everyone here speaks English, but some can be shy in doing so, and my Norwegian is elementary at best) and its next to impossible to break the ice with anyone. Needless to say, the good old American female standby "sit at the bar until someone comes to talk to you" does NOT fly here. I know. I've tried it on multiple occasions. At best you get a sideways glance, as if to say "what's wrong with that one?" Generally you're just ignored...that is, until the booze starts flowing. 

Alcohol is the game-changer in the Norwegian flirting scene (I suppose it is in most places, but not as markedly as it is here, I think) By 1 or 2am- remember, they don't even go to the bar before midnight- all of those reserved, skeptical sideways glances give way to a drunken free-for-all of pickup lines and inappropriate gestures. The codes go out the window and its straight down to business. If you're in the market for a quick hookup and not particularly choosy about it, this is your Valhalla.  

I've never much cared for drunken advances, and generally don't have the motivation to sit at a bar alone until 2am anyway, so this doesn't really help me any. But now I'm in Stavanger, and there's a food festival that's taken over the bulk of downtown that promises to lower the inebriation threshold from 2am to a much more manageable 8 or 9pm. Maybe I'll actually stand a chance of catching someone in the sweet spot between quietly skeptical and uselessly drunk.  If not, I've at least bought myself a green headband ;)

Still Living in the Moment (Part 2)

One of the more difficult parts of solo travel, for me, comes when I find myself in a proper city.  Being constantly surrounded by people tends to make me both more self conscious and more acutely aware of being alone. Nothing is as simple as it would be were I with another person. Want to go out to eat? It can take me hours sometimes to settle on a place with just the right level of patronage, so I can blend in to a bit of a crowd without being overwhelmed by it.  The same strategy applies to bars, but the selection process becomes even more meticulous once alcohol becomes a factor. I also tend to drink beer instead of my usual whisky so as to be sure I possess the mental faculties to find my way home at the end of the evening. My stomach has been less than thrilled with this particular strategy of late. Needless to say it helps a lot to have a little bit of company when getting acclimated to city life.  Thankfully, I managed to secure a couch surf in Trondheim, and it was one I was particularly looking forward to as, from her profile, I had a very good feeling that my host and I might have a fair bit in common.

As it turned out I was very right! Some of the best parts of the couchsurfing experience for me, in addition to having the advice of a local to guide my exploration of a new city, are the conversations that happen between host and guest, which oftentimes reinforce the notion that there is so much to the human experience, even across societal and cultural borders that is universal. Topics that might be swept under the rug, or just plain ignored on your own home turf are suddenly fair game in a new setting, and they're infused with a new sense of curiosity and a different perspective.  As two single, childless women in our 30's, my host and I had plenty of mutual experience to bond over as she took me on an introductory walking tour around town, and later to one of her favorite bars, situated in a neighborhood called Bakklandet which, were I to relocate to Trondheim and in possession of an unlimited supply of cash, would be my neighborhood of choice in which to live. 

I also did a good bit of wandering aimlessly through town on my own while she was at work, which is one of my favorite ways to get a feel for a new city. It was, as has come to be the Norwegian standard, a beautiful place, and a unique moment in its own right, different from the others that have come before.

Trondheim also marked the beginning of a week and a half long stretch of hopping from city to city, giving the tent a break, and breaking out the "fancy wardrobe" (read: clothes WITHOUT holes in them...) Which brings us back to the mountaintop above Bergen. I've been on my own here, having been unable to find a couch surf host who was not away on vacation, and as a result seem to have gotten a little overly contemplative, which was not my intent in starting this blog (it seems a bit arrogant to assume that the general public should be interested in the inner workings of my mind moreso than, say, the time I misunderstood the Norwegian guy who was trying to chat me up at the bar and asked him if he was asking me if I was a hooker...he was not. More on this later.) Sometimes, though, you just need to take a step back -or a cable car up a mountain- and let the bigger picture come into view. And what a pretty picture it is...

Living in the Moment...Part 1

EXT. MOUNTAINTOP ABOVE BERGEN, NORWAY - DAY

I've ascended by cable car to the top of Mount Ulriken, the highest peak surrounding the city of Bergen to bring a little perspective to this latest blog.

It's been just over a week since my last post.  I've been meaning for days to sit down and write a new update, but seem to have hit a bit of a writer's block. Not to say nothing of any interest has happened over the last week...it certainly has. But whereas some stories just have a tendency to write themselves, others happen in such a random and haphazard sort of way that they're hard to capture in one consistent blog post...so lets call this Part 1!

For starters, the sun came out! The day I left Sandnessjøen, the sky was clear, the sun was shining, and it was a proper 70 degrees Fahrenheit.  It felt like a miracle.  When I got to the campground in Mosjøen, it was more of the same. Everyone was out basking in the glory of summer and the sheer joy of it all, I think, went to our collective heads.  And so the International Coalition of Campground Singles was formed.  It went like this: A man traveling solo from Southwest Norway struck up a conversation with his tent neighbor, a solo cyclist from Italy (whose English was shaky at best).  The Italian invited a Swiss woman, also traveling solo, to join them over dinner and wine. A pair of single Norwegian women, traveling with their respective kids (and an awesome dog!) introduced themselves into the mix and the party was relocated to the space outside their tent, which happened to be next door to my own.  I was invited to join the fray sometime around midnight, and sure enough, the wine did not stop flowing until 5am.

 It's incidents like this that make solo travel such a fascinating experience.  Much as I have been known to enjoy the pleasure of my own company, and expert as I have become in conversing with myself (sometimes out loud) over the past month and a half, even the most socially inept among us can't survive without a bit of human interaction every now and again.  When you're in a foreign country on your own and you are more than a little bit socially challenged, this forces you to step outside your comfort zone on a pretty regular basis.  Last night in Bergen I went out to a bar all by myself.  In Los Angeles, I was known to need to down a shot or two of whisky at home just to get myself out to a bar, even if I was meeting a friend there.  I've injected myself into conversations here that I probably would have avoided had I overheard them at home.  I've even been the one to strike up a conversation with other solo travelers along the way, and for all of it I've been met with nothing but friendly enthusiasm and genuine interest.  It's a nice reminder that, on the whole, people aren't really as complicated or difficult as I can sometimes imagine them to be.


At the campground in Mosjøen, a random bunch of travelers from four different countries came together for a night to drink, laugh, trade stories, and enjoy the fantastic summer weather.  That's it. We were living in the moment, completely unencumbered by judgement or expectation or, in my case, anxiety, because it didn't matter.  In 24 hours time we would be once more scattered into the wind, on our own.  Except that we weren't exactly, as none of us (save the Italian cyclist, who was the most inebriated of all of us, ironically) had the wherewithal to actually leave the next day after all that wine!  Fortunately, I had another day to kill before I had to be at my couch surf in Trondheim.  What's more, the Norwegian gentleman who founded our little coalition happened to be driving through Trondheim on his way home, and was generous enough to offer me a ride.  Once again, the Norwegians are killing it in the hospitality department.


As we left Mosjøen, the rain came back (Norway giveth, and Norway taketh away).  One by one, the coalition disbanded and after five hours in the car, which flew by thanks to some great conversation (and some lessons in Norwegian pronunciation: if you're reading this, I have finally figured out how to properly say "Bodø"!) the last two remaining members said our goodbyes in Trondheim. The moment was over, and it was time to move on to the next one...to be continued...