Vacation on ice

Day 1 in Iceland...

Get your duty on!

Land in Reykjavik around 7 a.m. local on Wednesday. Go though almost non-existent customs check after marveling at the natives' obsession with duty free shop. There are shopping carts at the ready as soon as one leaves the jetway, and apparently booze, among other things, is much more reasonably priced in there than in the outside world. They stock up.

So I find my way to airbus that heads to main bus terminal. "Paint it Black" is on the radio on the bus. The bus driver thinks he knows the tune. Based on his whistling, he does not. Or maybe he can only whistle one or two notes and no more, as crazy at that sounds.

From there, I'm told to cab it to my hosts' abode. I get a cab, point to the address on my phone, he nods. I ask him how far away it is? He shrugs, as he has no idea what I'm saying. I say "near or far?" (watch this: http://www.myspace.com/video/alan/eating-muppets/9120989).

He goes to speak, revealing he can't. Not only did I find a cabbie who doesn't understand English, I got one who can't speak it -- or anything else -- thanks to a tracheotomy.  Oye. So I say, "how much?" He goes to write the amount on his rear windshield with his finger, though the lack of dirt or fog makes it difficult to read. But I get it, get in and get there.

Incidentally, there are lots of roundabounds here. Round-a-bound.

Host is very nice. She and her man are expecting. Too bad they got me. Anyway, very nice/private room, separate bathroom, sink, mini-fridge, wifi password -- all in all, good start for airbnb.com. Seeing as how I still feel like crap and am working on only 2 hours of sleep from the plane -- and am hopped up on cold meds -- I decide to take a nap before hitting the town.

This is around 8:30 a.m. Fast forward about 10 hours ...

Oops. There goes Day 1.

Actually, I do get myself up and out, just to get a hang of the bus system and look around. Oh, and Al, the supermarket and bus station rocketed the count to 4. Actually 4 1/4 -- one lady had a little kid (was going to count as half, but couldn't pin down his full ethnicity, so went with a quarter).  Next day at different bus station the count would shoot up to 5 1/4 -- therefore, the over.

Oh, Lila -- sucks that I have a cold. But the Tigger tissues were key! Same for lip balm in this 2-4 degree weather (I've converted to Celsius).

Part of the "Al" count.

Anyway, I get on the bus, take it to one end of the line, then to the other, just looking for anything that seems downtown-ish. Not seeing it. Reaches other end, stops, shuts down. But only stranded for six minutes until bus starts up again and goes back and forth on the No. 13 route -- which I now know remarkably well. This actually prepared me for the following day, when I tried to do at least a little exploring. Of course, I still felt like hell and didn't get going until afternoon, but after hacking up a lung last night, I actually am starting to feel a bit better.

Part of it must be the readily available Coke Zero here. Yes, I've given in. Actually, my host -- seeing that I have bottled water -- tells me it's not necessary, as Iceland has very good tap water. Later, as I'm turning hot water on, I notice that it smells ... well ... horrid. I do some internet research. Seems the naturally heated hot water is full of sulfur (thanks, volcanoes?), hence the smell. Not harmful amounts -- and the smell goes away shortly after showering in it -- but still stinky. However, the hot and cold water are from different sources, so the cold water is sulfur (and ostensibly smell) free. So says the internet. But they come from the same pipe/faucet in same sink. I suppose letting it run a bit to wash out sulfur remnants before filling up on clean and cold agua is the way to go, but I swear I can still smell it.

Coke Zero, on the other hand, smells just fine.

Next up... rainy day, big church, a man named Lief, lamenting the Westernization of Reykjavik's fast food options,  and settling for MAX in a laundromat. Can't wait, eh?