Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Day Two - Thursday

I had a hard time sleeping last night. The reason was related to what I'd mentioned about the night life: no one really comes out until 11:30 PM or midnight, and the bars stay open until 4 AM. The bars are so expensive, moreover, that people find it slightly more economical to buy a few bottles at a liquor store and drink them at home, getting drunk before going out and then partying the night away. The sunset hasn't even completed by the time people are coming out so it's still light as they start filing the streets, boisterous and jolly, their cries echoing off the buildings and going straight through our sealed apartment window. We remedied this problem by playing quiet music, sleeping in our noise-reduction headphones, or taking an Ambien.

When we first checked into the apartment, there was a shelf of four remote controls: TV, DVD player, radio, and something that looked like a cable box with a small credit card sticking out of it. The credit card-looking thing had a beautiful woman's face on it. I assume this was some kind of authentication key for a cable box, I dunno, it was never explained to me and I never experimented with it. Didn't want to incur huge surprise fees for watching some crap movie by accident. On the windowsill another stereo had its own remote control--the stereo under the TV was completely impenetrable to me, while the window stereo was facile and intuitive. We listened to some local stations, kept it on one that seemed to be the local Icelandic top 40 or something. There were two very angry songs about women, one of which was an anti-clever recitation of misogynist t-shirt slogans, the other just being some very black metal whining about a relationship gone sour. Good music came from it, too, like this very perky English woman who sounded a lot like Regina Spektor but with a stronger British accent, singing about how "jam on toast" makes her "very very happy" and she knows that some guy was checking out her bum. Being that the DJ was Icelandic, I never discerned who the artist was nor the title of the song. Does anyone reading this know? I'd love to find it again.

Anyway, Rebecca and I woke up, fixed skyr and muesli for breakfast (freakin' delicious! I can't believe I've never had muesli before), showered and dressed, and waited out front for the tour bus to collect us. Another couple down the block also stood outside but we never said hello or bonded. In fact, they just walked to the other side of the street when the street cleaning crew came by, blasting the sidewalks and cobblestone with gouts of water. I think they do that daily, and it's what keeps Reykjavik looking (and smelling) so nice (in direct contrast to homeless-urine-saturated Minneapolis). Eventually a large white shuttle bus did come for us, all four of us boarded, and we were driven across town to another bus station where we boarded a much larger tour bus, and then headed eastward to start the Golden Circle Tour...

(to be cont.)

3 comments:

khlari said...

You are aware we are all just perky and bizarre in England...it's in our natures.....that's nothing unusual....We think Bjork is quite normal, for example.....

Christian said...

I didn't realize. Is that a defense mechanism against the weather? That would certainly explain Bjork (but so would eating paint chips).

Marina said...

Kate Nash, Merry Happy!