After breakfast at Prikid (where my “American pancakes” came with a half-pound side of bacon), we walked through town to the waterfront. There, we chanced upon several hundred high school kids streaming toward a building that looked a bit like Swiss cheese made from recycled Coke bottles.
The angular edifice is the Harpa, the city’s new concert hall. We mixed in with the crowd, wandered around the light-filled interior, and ultimately followed the flow of people into the central auditorium. Just as we started through the doors, a concerned woman in her mid-fifties appeared, asking us questions in Icelandic.
We made our eyes as big and round as they could be. “Is there a concert?”
“It is for high school children only,” our new friend explained. “A practice session for students.”
“We’re very old students,” our friend J. said.
This seemed to tickle our new friend, who told us to stay put before disappearing into some nearby offices. (I briefly wondered if she were going to call the police.) Seconds later, she reappeared with a dark-haired young man with owlish glasses and skin-tight black jeans. “This is a practice concert,” he explained. “Rachmaninoff. The pianist is quite famous here in Iceland: Vikingur Oalfsson. He’s playing the Third Piano Concerto with our symphony orchestra. Would you like to hear?”
And yes, we did want to hear it — so, seconds later, we found ourselves sitting front and center with six hundred Icelandic teenagers, enjoying a concert that, next week, Reykjavik locals will be paying $65.00 a head to hear.
It’s hard to top that kind of morning, but after shopping along Laugavegur Street, we found ourselves back at the Hallgrimmskirkj, taking the elevator to the tippy-top of the imposing bell tower for stunning, sun-drenched views of the city.
And from there, we crossed the street to Cafe Loki, where I enjoyed my first taste of “trout tarte,” which was a bit like a fish salad sandwich dressed up as a slice of cake. (The rye bread was the cake, with fish salad icing.) It was tastier than you might imagine, especially when paired with the cafe’s speciality: rye bread ice cream topped with sweet cream and marmalade.
And then, back here, to the house, to tell you all about it. Tonight, we’re thinking of going to Tapas, for a special dinner featuring puffin and whale. Stick around, okay?
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