Reykjavik (still Iceland)!

THEN we drove to Reykjavik and ditched the rental car. We visited the Arbaer Folk Museum, a bunch of old buildings interpreted for various periods in Icelandic history. We got a tour from an Icelandic teenager* who was charmingly dry and pragmatic in what I suspect might be a classic Icelandic style. She described how Iceland decided to go ahead and adopt Christianity with the caveats that they would continue to eat horsemeat and to abandon babies to die if there were too many mouths to feed,** and she described infanticide as "carrying out" babies. When we all stared at her uncomprehendingly, she said "Maybe you don't do that in your countries."

We ticked off some other Reykavik tourist things - Hallgrímskirkja, Harpa, waterfront, Einar Jónsson sculpture garden, compact little town center full of murals and boxes-that-are-buildings. Also, note the civil servant going to work at City Hall. Cook and I, as fellow municipal employees, immediately identified.

We also, while in Reykjavik, took the opportunity to swim at a public geothermal pool, which is apparently what all Icelanders do as part of regular life. You take a super-thorough shower and then soak in a series of very hot pools with a bunch of other people. It's very calming, and I could totally get used to it. We then got ice cream at a place recommended to us by another Icelandic teenager - it turned out to be an enormous cup of soft-serve icecream with candy blended in, like a Blizzard. We chose a variety of candy to mix in to our three enormous cups, including what the teenage server told me was very popular - salt licorice bits mixed with some kind of sprinkles. She may have been pulling my leg, because it was revolting.

What else? We went to the National Museum of Iceland and learned more about Iceland's bleak history. (Iceland is probably why I thought about mortality so much - this is a culture based on short, hard lives in vast landscapes.) Also, there was a dress-up opportunity.

And that was that for Iceland. It was spectacular, and I can't wait to go back to visit Duchess on her horse farm.

*Everybody dealing with tourists in Iceland is under the age of 22. It's eerie, like Logan's Run. 

**This seems to actually be true.