Dark and white. That’s how I’m going to remember Iceland.
Cloud hung over Reykjavík all week; we had only occasional glimpses of the stars or the moon. Yet the cloud was a continual grey abyss. The moon, shone brightly, just as it does through my skylight at home in the middle of the night when I’m trying to sleep, but this was half nine in the morning. We shared the breakfast table with a tea light.
One moment, the air would be clear. The next instant a storm would saturate the sky drowning everything in white snow. The mountains across the bay disappeared to such an extent that when I told the Father there were mountains across the water he assured me that I was wrong, he said the only thing out there was the cold North Atlantic and in the far distance, Greenland.
As the snow cleared I was proved right. Yet I only knew this because I’d seen the phenomenon a few days earlier when the Midget and I had fought our was back along the coastal path home, unable to determine what was path and what was road.
Except where the geniuses had placed under-floor heating beneath the pavements. This might seem excessive, but hot water in Iceland is magic. Electricity and heating are super cheap because of the magic the scientists and engineers generate out of the powerful tear of the tectonic plates (2cm per year). In Iceland, electricity bills are at a flat rate, so Icelanders keep their twinkle lights on all day and all winter.
The Midget delighted in having super-hot showers for as long as she liked, guilt free.
Showers aren’t the only way to enjoy all this amazing hot water. Swimming pools in Iceland are in their high twenties (Celsius), but this is nothing compared to a 40 degree thermal bath.
Have you ever been to Iceland, if so, what did you think?