With jet lag nipping at our heels, we make “staying up until 9:00 PM” our goal.
That’s easy to do when we’re engaged, so, after an afternoon shower, we leave our great little apartment and walk five blocks or so to the center of town. It’s late in the afternoon, but the streets are bustling with locals and tourists alike, making good use of the cloudy but rainless day. Every now and then, the sun peeks through the low-hanging clouds, and everything — the trees, the storefronts, the statues, the people — flares with color … and then, when the clouds slide back over the sun, the world around us goes back to being black and white.
Despite the occasional mist and gusty wind from the sea, being outside is comfortable. What’s more, given the local flavor of the place, the walk is engaging. There are no McDonald’s restaurants here (they packed up during the recession); instead, almost every eatery and storefront is owned and operated by locals. As a result, the merchandise is more interesting: hand-knitted caps in bright colors and odd shapes, polished stone jewelry from the Nine Worlds boutique and gallery, clever t-shirts from a local design shop (“Weary of religion? Try SCIENCE!”)
Prices for handmade, local wares are high, though not as outrageously high as they were in Scandinavia. Food prices, though, can be astonishing, especially in joints that target tourists with “a taste of Reykjavik” menus. One shiny and deserted cafeteria, promising “all you can eat whale and puffin,” offers what the owners considered a bargain: fifty bucks a head. We passed, using TripAdvisor.com to track down Nudluskalin, a gay-owned noodle bar serving up local takes on Asian noodle dishes.
Clyde ordered a deep, steaming bowl of tod yum gai, packed with veggies and egg noodles and swimming in rich coconut broth. I went with the equivalent of pad thai: Singapore noodles, crushed peanuts, shredded carrots, cilantro, in a lime-scented broth. Both dishes were hearty and delicious … and our entire meal (topped off with cold, fresh lime water) cost us just nine bucks a person.
We do plan to hit up one of the local joints for an Icelandic food sampler later in the week, but we’ll go to Tapas, where we can get a well-reviewed six-course dinner in a pleasant space for what our friends in the cafeteria were charging.
I’ve no idea what I’ll do today. Ride horses? Maybe. Rent a car? Maybe. Shop more? Certainly? Eat a puffin? Maybe so, if the price is right.
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