Where was I? What am I doing here?

Admiral Stockdale moment over...

View from church tower on overcast day.

Day 2 in Iceland -- a bit more productive than Day 1. Felt moderately better but still mostly like crap, so slept in and took it easy.  Been told that "the pond" is a great/lively area to check out. So I hop on a bus and head over there.

It's lively. If you are a duck. Nothing against ducks. But they (and some other splashy bird-type things) account for almost all of the visible living creatures around this pond at this particular moment. So I stay on the bus, ride around, end up somewhere random. Take another bus back, finally manage to find city center-type area.

(And to think, I once owned a map store ... granted, this was 30 years ago -- and my region of expertise was New England -- but still ...)

Anyway, cool area. Shopping, cafes (which I keep typo-ing as "cages" -- that would be Amsterdam), bars and restaurants. Actually, no cages, but chained-up stuffed Polar Bears. Several. I read that Iceland once was overrun with polar bears (why did I cap polar bears the first time? Respect, yo!) and the citizens suffered repeated maulings, so these chainings were a symbolic representation of Icelanders' ability to overcome the polar persecution.

I read that. In my notes for this blog. Oh, and autocorrect kept changing "maulings" to "mailings" -- which I suppose might work if the populace here had been terrified by polar bear propaganda via post.

Incidentally, are the Icelanders moving to Brooklyn?

OK, touristy stuff. There's a big church atop a hill. I went there. The church has a tower. I climbed it (well, took the lift most of way up). It has a nice view of Reykjavik. I viewed it. Interesting how this city really isn't urban at all -- which isn't that uncommon for many European cities. I guess I had half-expected to see a bunch of old, ornate, stone-y buildings. Not so much. More neighborhood-y, with some cottage-like architecture and fun colors, and some very run-of-the-mill structures and schemes. But the streets and this hood are groovy and quaint.

Church. Leif. Me. Irrespectively.

Oh, the church. In front of it is a statue of Leif Ericson, given to the Icelandic folk by your very own United States of America mid last century. And don't you forget it! Señor Ericson is widely regarded as being the first European to "discover" North America (not including Greenland -- but really, who cares about Greenland? Incidentally, Iceland considers itself to be part of Europe, but it actually sits on the intersection -- well, divergence, really -- of the European and North American tectonic plates. More on that tomorrow ...), which begs the question, why do we celebrate Columbus Day? How damn fun would a Viking day be?! Way beyond Talk Like A Pirate Day, so says me.

So the statue. It's in front of the church. There's another one in St. Paul, Minn., apparently. A statue of Leif, not a church. Actually, I'm reasonably certain there also are churches in St. Paul. But that's neither here nor there. Unlike the statue, which is both here and there.

(Cold meds ...)

After church I wander the city center and grab a bite in the Laundromat. It's a cafe. It's kinda groovy. Some '50s era photos, wooden benches, lots of books around the bar for a hipster coffeehouse feel (but not nearly as pretentious), 13 different servers attending to your culinary needs on some sort of rotating basis.

They have wifi. I ask for password. Woman says, "I love you. I love you. I love you." See? The world hearts Americans! OK, she was telling me the password. But maybe there was double meaning.

Remind me to mention the howling horse in my room. Actually, I might just leave it at that.

So I finish my mozzarella sandwich (not quite ready for local fare) and my Pepsi Max (I felt guilty, but Coke Zero is well represented, so one can't hurt, right? Right?), chat with some English folk on holiday and hit the streets. Some Norwegian guy comes up to me and asks if I speak English. Yep! He then asks where the pools are. I say I have no idea. After discovering I'm from the States, he gets all fired up about Taco Bell. Why is there a Taco Bell here? He comes all the way here from Toronto (where he lives now) and there's Taco Bell? "Nothing is sacred," I say. Except maybe for some churches in St. Paul.

He backs away awkwardly and I continue on my merry way.

Still slowed by sickness, I call it a night, as an early wake-up call awaits for some nature crap tour thingy. And I get to bed by midnight. And wake up at 2:30. And don't get back to sleep until 6. Craaaaaaaap.

Oh, and that pic above is floating out there with no text wrapping because apple products apparently don't believe in scrolling.

I'm hungry.