Copenhagen Airport

As I said in the last post, I got no sleep. Around 4:25, I picked up my stuff and walked from Gulla’s to the long-distance bus station, maybe 10 minutes’ walk away. It was easy to then just jump onto the first airport service and drop into a fairly deep slumber.

I awoke as we approached Keflavík Aiport, disembarked and checked in. Thankfully, everything went like clockwork and I boarded my flight dot on time.

And fell asleep.

Copenhagen airport was fine, but the traveller information could have been more helpful around the train ticket office. Thankfully, between the information provided me by Linda and the very helpful woman at Tourist Information, I got the right ticket.

Copenhagen City Hall

The airport is three zones from the city, so instinct says you need to buy a 3-zone “clipper” ticket if you want to save cash. Well, save more – get a 2-zone. And clip it twice before you get on the train. This is even cheaper and perfectly above board. You don’t have to hop out on the way and clip it at another platform, as long as you take two notches out of it before you board.

When I asked the Tourist Information lady what the exchange rate she was, she actually aologied as it was “only” 8 Danish Crowns to the pound. The usual rate is nearer 11 or 12. Hardly her fault! Mind, it did make things quite pricey.

I’d intended to store my luggage at the train station in the city and go wandering, but at £5 a locker I decided I could do with the exercise and set off with my pack on my back. I’d picked up a map of the city with a self-guided tour on it and decided to make my way around based on that.

Niels Bohr

I did stop briefly at the Tourist Information to find out where the central library was, though. They offer free wi-fi and I had my laptop with me, so it was useful to know. And also where the nearest KFC was for lunch. I have a tradition to maintain!

The KFC was just off the city hall square. There are a load of fast food restaurants in Copenhagen, but they’re not a cheap way to eat. My regular sized meal (they don’t do large) was around two pounds more than I’d expect to pay for it in the UK. When I eventually got it as they didn’t accept Visa so I had to go off ATM-hunting.

In fairness, that was only due to them not having a newer swipe machine. Most everywhere else I went happily took my Nationwide card. Almost. But that’s tomorrow’s post.

After munching, I walked a little further up the road past some shops, and the old University with it’s collection of busts outside. I only took a photograph of Niels Bohr as I’m a physics geek.

Around the same area are the Round Tower and Cathedral. It’s a pleasant area, but watch out for cyclists! It’s easy not to hear them as you step out to cross the road.

City Hall Square

I was flagging so I looked for the library. The main entrance is on Krystalgade, and nobody queried a bedraggled beardie with a backpack locating a desk and sitting down to use the wi-fi. Nice library, too, with many books in English. I found that everyone I spoke to in Copenhagen spoke superb English. This is ideal when you’re only in a place for a day or so as it’s barely long enough to pick up any of the local lingo.

After a couple of hours (really, I was just too tired to plod around), it was time to meet Andy for a couple of drinks and a chat in a bar. We hooked up at the City Hall and he directed me to a pub nearby with one of the most attractive barmaids I’d ever seen.

Courtesy of the loopholed anti-smoking regulations, the area near the bar was heavy with filth while the place we were sat only got the occasional whiff. The rules are that any are larger than 40m² must be non-smoking. So pubs put up partitions so that they had areas smaller. And also argued that spacetaken up by tables, chairs, bar tops and the like didn’t count towards the surface area. And the government let them so virtually every bar allows smoking. Great.

While I was waiting for my first beer, a Danish woman in her 40′s started chatting to me. I apologised for my lack of Danish and she went on in perfect English about how she liked my beard, but how I should shape it and thin it out a little. I told you their English was good.

Danish beer

We (Andy and I, not the beard-lady) chatted for a couple of hours before I got a text from Diego who I’d made a loose arrangement to meet, but couldn’t find where he was. He joined us outside the City Hall and we walked closer to the station to a bar called Jernbanecafeen. This was completely smoky, but I was promised I’d see “real” Copenhageners here, as opposed to the trendy lot, businessmen, tourists and the like.

It’s certainly a place with character, covered in railway memorabilia. They also do their own beer,7 Ekspressen, which can only be purchased on the premises. There we chatted (and watched people snogging) until Linda arrived. The original plan was to go straight to hers, but she relented after I offered to buy her a drink and a chance to meet a couple more Couchsurfers.

We had a great chat there until late on when we had to head off to catch the train. One word of warning – there’s a 100 Crown minimum purchase on card at the bar here, but they’ll happily let you put your Visa or whatever behind the bar and run up a tab.

Back at Linda’s, I spent a good couple of hours scanning and tidying her laptop for her. It seems to be a common way for me to pay “rent” to my hosts! I think I finally collapsed on the spare mattress around 4am. I really should sleep more, but I’m having too much fun!

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Iceland to Denmark

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Just a quickie. I will update with full details of the last 2 days in Iceland when I get the chance, but I’m currently safely ensconced in the Copenhagen Central Library using their free wi-fi. I’m off to meet a fellow couchsurfer in 30 minutes, and my host at 9:30 tonight.

I think I will sleep well. Rather than getting 2-3 hours’ sleep last night, I instead opted to stay awake until my coach left for the airport. As such, I’ve had something along the lines of 3 hours of “snooze”-level rest so I’m a bit pooped…

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Bless Reykjavik, Ísland… hej København, Danmark

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Inside the Hallgrímskirkja

There wasn’t a whole lot left of the capital for me to see, so I had a bit of a lie in (I needed it!) and met Elfa to see the last few things. We walked up to the church which this time was open. It’s very plain inside compared to just about any other church I’ve ever been in. Apparently this is typically Icelandic and I like it. Too many churches are filled with ornaments and decor that must have cost a fortune. It all screams “our religion is richer than yours!” whcih somehow doesn’t seem appropriate.

In contrast, the interior of the Hallgrímskirkja looks like the workers have just finished plastering it. There are rows of seats, an altar at one end and an organ at the other. They’re about the only things that lend colour to it. The ceiling’s magnificent, though – it reminds me of a similar design in one of the churches I visited in Liége.

As you face the main door of the church from outside, look left and you’ll see the house of a famous artist, Einar Jónsson (now deceased). Elfa wanted to show me that, but it’s closed in January and February. The sculpture garden attached to it, however, is open all year round. Access is through a gate on the next street down towards the town.

Now I’m not one for art. Never have been. I read comics and think the pictures in there are good, for crying out loud. I’ve been to Paris and couldn’t be bothered going to see the Louvre. In fairness, one or two of the enormous paintings in the art gallery in Nancy did catch my eye, mainly for the detail.

But the sculptures in this garden… wow. There’s something about them I like and I think – again – it’s attention to detail and the thought that’s gone into them. Whereas a lot of the sculptures I saw in places like Rome are detail-heavy on one side, these ones were definitely designed to be walked around. In fact, some seem to almost change as you circle them.

The cold, wet weather really suited them as well. All the sculptures are made from metal (I believe they’re bronze casts of plaster originals) and the little crags on them hold rainwater very well. I’m sure they’d look very different in warm sunshine.

Back down in town, we headed for the coastline and saw the modern “Viking ship” that was erected recently. It’s a metal framework and apparently a bit of a love/hate thing with the locals. Elfa is one of those who’s not impressed! I think it looks good – again, the misty weather suit it and I don’t think it would look anywhere near as good on a sunny day.

I should have noted the titles...

A short walk away is a Thai restaurant (Krua Thai) which we settled on for lunch. Staffed by Thais, the menu is varied, prices reasonable and service fast. Oh, and the food was good! We chatted for a while and then meandered through the streets to a little café which Elfa hadn’t been in for years. Apparently hanging around in cafés is something the younger generation do. A lot. It’s just what you do. Which I suppose beats standing around on street corners.

We talked for quite a while in there, killing time until Elfa had to go to work, and I found out a fair bit more about Iceland’s culture. With the population being so small, everyone is related to everyone else fairly closely – usually no more than 9 people link any person to any other.

Large families were common until fairly recently. Elfa’s father was one of nine if I recall correctly. Thing is, Iceland – until recently and now no more – was never really a rich country. Work was hard to come by and families are expensive to raise. As such, children were often “farmed off” to couples with no children – kind of like an adoption scheme. The children were effectively raised by the couple they lived with, in exchange for which they helped with whatever that couple needed – farmwork, looking after them if they were elderly and so forth.

Elfa’s father was one of these children and the couple he ended up with offered to take him on full-time and raise him, put him through school and so forth. It’s just something we’d not have in the UK. Too many lawyers getting involved and so forth. Oh, and the fact that generally the kind of people we have who have nine children don’t care what happens to them as long as the child support cheque comes in.

It really does give the image of a close-knit community and explains why so many people know so many people. That and the 300,000 population, half of which live in and around Reykjavik.

Half past four arrived and Elfa needed to get ready for work, so we strolled out and into the slightly more pleasant evening. She toddled off and I walked out of town a little way to find Gulla’s house. She was to be my host for the evening as she is slightly closer to the bus station than Roberto and Tamara.

After some walking up and down trying to spot house numbers in the dark, I made my way into her cosy little flat. While I checked my email and made friends with the cat, Gulla Took a quick trip to the American embassy to join a small protest against the situation in Gaza. Well, there’s no Israeli embassy in Reykjavik!

Modern sculpture of a Viking boat

I got talking to her son, Gunnar, who’s thinking about selling up and moving to Denmark. His flat is costing him more than it did when he bought it due to how Icelandic mortages work. Essentially, you pay off your monthly amount and then the bank adds on another sum based on inflation. This, currently, is a larger amount then he (and a lot of other people) are paying off. Not good. So economically, it’s cheaper to walk off and let the bank take your home, claim bankruptcy and start again. Obviously not good for banks who are now being saddled with properties they can’t sell.

A little later I made a brief trip over to R&T’s to pick up all my stuff – they’d been out at the gym when I parted company with Elfa – and had another great chat with them. Fantastic hosts!

The evening was relaxed as Gulla and I sat on our respective laptops, talking to people abroad while taking the occasional break to chat to each other. I munched my way through all the snack food I’d picked up that I didn’t want to carry from country to country.

My original intention had been to grab a couple of hours’ sleep before my coach at 4:40am. Instead I sat up online. Whoops. But that bit really falls into tomorrow’s post.

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Rest of Reykjavik

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The Pearl

The weather was particularly unsavoury this morning. As I left the apartment, the wind threatened to remove my cap for me and – not wanting any Indiana Jones-like near-escapes grabbing it from in front of an approaching truck – I gave up and took it off. Definitely the windiest and coldest I’d been since I arrived.

I’d not risen as early as I’d hoped, but had spent a good hour or so chatting to Roberto. My main target for the day was the Perla, or Pearl, located on a hill just on the outskirts of the city centre. Its primary function is as a set of water tanks, holding hot water which has been extracted from the springs underground. This water is used to help in electricity generation and also for the central heating of just about everyone in Reykjavik.

Rather than leave this as an eyesore, someone decided to build a glass dome on the top with a walkway around it. On the ground floor, there’s also an (expensive) museum of Reyjavikian history. The dome on top houses a moderately expensive restaurant, and buying an evening meal there is the only way up to the top floors.

I had a walk around the lower tier and took a few photos of the fog-shrouded city below. Atmospheric, but I’m sure the view would be even better in the summer. It still surprises me that when I see “smoke” rising, it’s not the embers of a campfire but steam escaping from some underground vent or other.

Inside the Pearl

As I left the Perla, the lovely Elfa picked me up and we drove to the nearby graveyard. It sounds strange, but I like graveyards. They tell you a lot about a place – the society, the people, the history, the culture.

Iceland‘s are no different. The closest graveyard is quite big and well laid-out. It’s moderately well-tended, but the grave “stones” vary from carved horror-movie style to simple wooden crosses with a brass plate tacked on. Invariably, these have rotted and are propped up somehow.

One thing that struck me was the use of LED lights everywhere. Not in a huge Christmas-tree fashion, but within small fake candles or stuck inside semi-opaque white crosses. Apparently it is tradition to keep the dead company, or at least to provide them light. In past times, this was done by lighting an old-fashioned candle or oil lamp which required tending from day to day. In these modern times, a fake flickery electrical light counts as the same job but with less maintenance.

Up at the church itself there is a monument to dead seamen which is quite nice to look at. Wave-shaped plaques with their names carved on lead up towards a lighthouse on a plinth – with a working flashing light. It sounds cheesy, but it’s done well and it’s a fitting monument.

Our next stop was an older cemetery nearer the town which was a lot more traditional. Well, fewer LEDs anyway. It was a nice, varied cemetery with relatively new and very old graves mixed together. A rigid layout, but no rhyme or reason to the actual monuments on the plot. A lovely semi-archaic feel to it. My favourites had to be the solid blocks of rock – they looked naturally shaped – with names carved into them.

LEDs in a cemetery

As well as the look of the place I got a lot of information about the way Iceland “works” from my ever-informative guide. We all know how people from Scandinavia have names ending in “son” or “sen”. In fact, a lot of common English surnames come from this tradition – “Johnson” is an obvious example: “John’s son”.

Where our historic paths divert, however, is in the way tradition changed. In the UK (and most of Europe), when a couple marry the woman takes her husband’s surname. OK, so in today’s society this is slightly less common. But on the whole, this is how things work.

In Iceland, people’s surnames still “change” from our point of view. If John has two children, then they could be Michael Johnson and Elaine Johnsdaughter. If Elaine marries, she will still – by Icelandic custom – be Elaine Johnsdaughter (or Johnsdóttir if I have the spelling right). She won’t take her husband’s name.

One interesting thing I found out was that only recently has it been possible to legally change your surname in Iceland to [mother's-name]son/dóttir. By default at birth, your surname is based on your father’s forename (I assume, unless perhaps the mother decides otherwise) but you can change it easily later in life.

This caused problems for someone else I know, but I’ll get to that in a later post!

I am Viking, hear me roar!

Our next stop, a short walk away was the National Museum. A note for the tourist – this is free on Wednesdays. It’s also well worth a visit with a great history of this small but vitally important nation. I don’t know what the usual charge is, but personally I’m not a fan of charging at all for museums. History and education should be free, but that’s a platform for another time (and blog).

It’s not a bad place. The history is arranged well and there are some good hands-on exhibits (the picture will prove this!). It focuses around the religious history, but I think this makes up a huge part of Iceland’s history. As a small island in the middle of the sea, it’s obviously been of huge importance to several nations. It seems it had one of the single most bloodshed-less religious changes in the history of the world. One king told them to change church… and they did. No riots, no overthrowing, no nothing.

Iceland’s a strange country – and I like strange.

Elfa had work in the evening, so she headed there and I walked back to the flat. Roberto had recommended a small shop that did burgers so I walked up there and had a decent little meal while I wrote out postcards. I then strolled down to the “best hot dog place in Reykjavk” to meet Tumi and we wandered off to a nearby bar to watch Man U get embarrassed by Derby.

Gulla joined us partway through, as did an unwanted guest who spent about 5 minutes railing about how the English shouldn’t have killed Mary Queen of Scots until the bar staff convinced him to bugger off. As the game ended, Elfa texted to say she was in another local bar so I walked up there to be greated by another small group of Couchsurfers. The count was 50/50 – 3 Icelanders, a Brit, a Turk and a Dane.

We drank until past midnight and then headed our respective ways. An enjoyable if mildly expensive evening. Well, cheap if you’re from London.

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Perla and beer

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Reykjavik video

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Reykjavik

After a good sleep on a comfy couch, I was up at the crack of dark (9am) to a breakfast of Icelandic yoghurt. I sat and chatted to Ricardo for a while before he had to leave for a job interview.

My only aim for the day was to have a KFC for lunch. Apart from that I decided to start off randomly and see where I ended up. So off I walked, heading to the coastline and following it for an hour or so. It was misty and cold. There was rain. But the air was fresh and as the cloud gradually moved, the views were fantastic and very atmospheric.

I found a little enclave of houses on the coast, one of which had some bizarre sculptures in the back garden. Later on, Ricardo told me it’s owned by an artist or a film-maker or something. It’s nice that you can just walk around the sculptures without anyone complaining.

Strange statues

A little further up, a rock and granite walkway leads partway across a causeway in the direction of the small island of Viðey, which apparently is “historic”. I could see what looked like a house and a church on it, but little else. There is a ferry which runs there, but I wasn’t up for the trip out assuming the ferry even runs in winter.

I headed back inland and passed the hostel on my way to the park. There I found an old washing area where women took the laundry over a hundred years ago. It’s now covered by a steel grate, but the hot water beneath releases clouds of steam and it’s very warm around it. There’s a display nearby with information on the old “laundry”, mainly in Icelandic but with a little summary in English at the bottom of each panel.

Icelandic coastline

From there I headed towards the botanical gardens. This fairly small, but very nicely laid out… and somewhat barren at this time of year, understandably. A lot of birds still wander around and swim in the artificial ponds. They’re fairly tame, too, allowing you to get quite close to them before they turn and amble off.

Within fifteen minutes of annoying the birds, I was eating one as I located the KFC on the edge of a retail park. It’s right by McDonalds. And Subway. And Domino Pizzas. Not the best Zinger burger ever, but I had to have it to keep up the tradition. I wonder if they have KFC in Copenhagen?

There is a mall nearby (by my standards – 15 minutes’ walk) so I took a stroll over there, intending to visit the Pearl and one of the graveyards on my way back into the centre of the city. However, while I was browsing in a book store I got a text from Elfa asking if I was free for a walk around at 15:00. I checked my watch – I had twenty minutes to make it back to town. I did it in 25.

Bizarre Icelandic building

She and a friend walked me down the main street and around a few of the parliament and government buildings. Icelanders seem to like their government as much as I like mine. Mind you, with a collapsed economy you can kind of see why. Of course, all politicians are pretty much cut from the same cloth so it’s no surprise that everyone dislikes them.

Inevitably, we ended up on a coffee shop. I have the Vietnamese Jasmine tea – very nice. Unfortunately, Elfa works evenings so we had to part ways at 17:00. I think I’ll catch her tomorrow, though, and there was talk of a car possibly being involved. I was very much informed she would not be driving me to the volcanic craters in the middle of the island though!

Ricardo and Tamara were back off the the gym, so I hiked up to the pool again and enjoyed an hour soaking and swimming around. I checked out two of the hot tubs this time – 42 and 44 degrees C. Pretty burny, but nice. The steam room was good as well. The facilities were far less busy than the previous night. I think this could have something to do with it being the 13th night after Christmas, when the festivities officially end and Iceland uses it as an excuse for parades, bonfires and fireworks.

Map of Iceland

Sadly, these all take place in the provinces and little areas outside of the city centre so I didn’t get to see anything other than a fair smattering of sparklies in the sky. Ipicked up a pizza on the way home (1100 ISK for a 9″ and a Coke) which wasn’t too bad – and aparently very cheap according to my hosts. Ouch.

Well, we’ll see what tomorrow brings. Hopefully I can get hold of Elfa. I am meeting Tumi to watch the football in the evening, possibly with Gunnar as well, and I’m likely moving “home” to Gulla’s!

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Getting plenty of exercise

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Leif Ericson and I

The country that forgot to pay the bill for the daylight they use. Hence why it’s dark pretty much all the time at the moment. Brightness peaks around midday, and even then it’s equivalent to roughly 15:30 in the UK at present.

I got to bed at the hostel around 4am. I woke up a few times in the night as I often do in a strange bed and the sky hadn’t changed. By 10:00 it was still as dark as it had been when I first hit the sack.  The very first hint of daylight didn’t strike my retinas till almost 10:30. It’s the opposite of Finland back in June where it just didn’t get dark. Obviously, Iceland is similar in the summer.

Surprisingly, it’s also warm. According to the woman at reception in the hostel Iceland is currently the warmest place in Europe. It’s certainly warmer than back in the UK at present!

I’d made the mistake of leaving my Lonely Planet at home, so I spent a little time online trying to locate my hosts for the evening, Ricardo and Tamara. I managed to get hold of them and also received an email from a Finnish chap called Thomas. While I couldn’t hook up with my hosts until later in the day, Thomas was free to walk around the city right away and it was his last day in Reykjavik. I arranged to meet him at midday on the main street (Laugavegur), gathered my belongings and walked into the city centre.

It’s about a 30 minute walk (my speed) from the hostel and the large swimming pool into the heart of Reykjavik. I got to the BONUS store dot on midday and Thomas followed along shortly. We then basically just wandered aimlessly taking the odd photo.

Hotel Pron

For brunch, I chowed down on a hotdog, the common snack food over here. There’s a little shack near the waterfront that sells “the best hotdogs in Reykjavik” and from which Bill Clinton picked up a “one with everything” when he was in town many years ago. It wasn’t bad.

We walked past the lake, a couple of museums (many are closed on Monday during winter), some interesting buildings and up to the large Hallgrimskirkja (Hallgrim’s Church) on the hill. The statue of Leif Ericson was thankfully visible as the church wasn’t! Like a few of the monuments I’ve wanted to see on my travels, it was cocooned in scaffolding while work was being carried out on it. It was also shut, which surprised Thomas as it’s still being used during the refurbishment. I’ll try again later in the week.

After plodding around with a rucksack and a laptop bag for 3 hours, I started eyeing up the bars and coffee shops. Thomas agreed that we should get out of the rain, and we found a little one just of the main street. There I enjoyed a huge pastry and a nice cup of peppermint tea. It wasn’t vastly expensive – 555 ISK – around what I’d expect to pay in a similar place back home.

Soon enough, 4pm rolled around and I waved goodbye to Thomas (thanks for your company!) and walked around the corner to meet Ricardo and Tamara. They’re a lovely young couple, Ricardo from Mexico and Tamara from Ecuador. They moved to Iceland a few months ago and actually got settled while Couchsurfing with someone who is to be my host later in the week.

I dropped all my stuff in their flat and we walked around to Bonus where I picked up a few supplies. Some “lakkrís” sweets (guess what that translates to in English), some rice cake things with chocolate on, malt “beer” (non-alcoholic- imagine cold Horlics in a can. Sort of) and Skyr – a type of yoghurt for breakfast. All Icelandic produce and specialities. Back at the flat, Ricardo insisted I smell some of the fermented shark meat he had in the fridge in a tiny little pot.

Best. URL. Ever.

The first whiff is like tuna. Then you get your nose right in and it smells like a slipper that a cat has peed in – very strong ammonia. Ew! If you’re going to have a food you’re famous for, Iceland, pick something that smells better!

It turns out my hosts are members of a gym right next door to the hostel, so we headed up there after we’d sat talking for ages. I walked and R & T got the bus as they were going to the gym before the pool where I’d meet them, and I needed to pop back into the hostel anyway. I’d left my towel (again), but thankfully retrieved it.

Pools are a big thing in Iceland. They’re generally all naturally heated from geothermal sources underground and the water’s not treated in any way. Hence they’re really strict about hygiene, with huge signs telling you to wash before going in and so forth. All good. This pool is the largest in Iceland and used for sporting events, as well as leisure. As luck would have it, R&T had a free pass so I gratefully received that and arranged to meet them in the water after their gym session.

Random statue

It’s a great place to unwind after work and it was fairly busy. There are several outdoor pools as well as the 25m one, along with 4 “hot pots” of varying temperatures and a steam bath. I think the entry fee’s only around $3 anyway, which is a bargain. I had a nice relaxing swim, lazed in one of the hot pools and chatted to Ricardo in a hot-pot for a while before we decided to call it a night.

Again, I walked back while they caught the bus. A chance to take a few pictures and stretch my legs. I ate a lot over the holidays and I need to work off some poundage!

Back at the flat we had hotdogs again, and I cracked open one of the bottles of whisky I’d picked up at the airport. Well, two bottles of Famous Grouse for £20? Bargain!

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• Iceland by the numbers

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And so, this is Iceland

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Coat of arms of Iceland

Or 39 if you’re including the UK. At least I think so. I hope I’m not losing count. I should make it to 42 by summer!

The short flight from Glasgow to Keflavik was uneventful and smooth, and when I landed I thought we’d gone round in a circle. It was dark and raining – although Iceland‘s currently warmer than Scotland!

It’s currently 3am and I’ve spent a good three hours catching up on my email so I’ll be quite brief. Keflavik Airport seems nice and is all polished and smart. I’ll try to get some pics of the outside when I return on Friday as it’s a nice building. The tourist info was open even though I got through customs at around 11pm. I do feel sorry for the people who lugged bottles of vodka all the way from Glasgow only to drop one on the floor of the luggage collection area. Oops.

I got the Flybus direct to the HI Hostel, but was overcharged. The airport website states that the Flybus will take you direct to various hotels (including the youth hostel) for free. This is not the case. After arriving at the hostel, I checked the prices on the posters here against what I’ve been charged and also had a look at  Reykjavik Excursions’ website (the company that run the bus).

Prices are:

One way airport to Reykjavik central bus station (or other way): 1500 ISK

Return ticket purchased in advance: 2700 ISK

One way to/from one of the hotels/hostel : 2000 ISK

Return to hotels/hostel: 3700 ISK

Now, I wanted to go to the hostel but till be returning from the main bus station. I explained this to the girl selling the tickets, asking if there was a return ticket that was cheaper. Because I was going to the hostel she sold me a 3700 ISK return… which is more expensive than buying two singles for the two separate stops (2000 + 1500 = 2500).

In addition, had I known there was an extra charge – which I was never told and the airport website says it’s free – I’d not have paid it. Instead I’d have hopped off at the BSI station and walked it. It’s only about 20 minutes on foot. Overall, I’ve been overcharges 700 ISK which is roughly £4 at current exchange rates. OK, not a fortune, but it’s the principle. I may try to find their office and complain tomorrow.

Enough whinging. The hostel here is lovely and the staff very warm and welcoming – full review on the Accommodation Guide. I’ve only seen my room in the dark so far, as I ditched my stuff before taking a quick walk to get some (expensive) munchies and then setting up to get online.

And here I’ve been sat for three hours. Oops.

Time for bed and hopefully I’ll know where I’m meeting my hosts for the next two nights in the morning.

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Iceland – Country 38

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Well, with their economy going up the fritz (the Icelandic Krona dropped to about half it’s value against the pound last week) and almost everyone I know who’s been there declaring it a wonderful place it made sense to take advantage. Especially with it formerly being one of the most expensive places to visit.

The flight was a bargain £77 from Glasgow (direct), the hostel I’m looking at is a fiver a night and I can get a cheap flight to Copenhagen from there for the weekend before returning to Chamonix at company expense to do another couple of weeks’ paid graft before I zip off to Bangkok for another eye operation.

I think the best plan will be to book as much as I can in advance. The Krona will do nothing but (I hope, for Iceland’s sake) recover between now and January, so paying now will save me money in the long run.

Post from: Goodbye UK, Hello World! - why not pop by and read some more?

Mosh’s going to Iceland

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