Just a brief update for now. Monday was spent shaking off what was perhaps the most uncomfortable plane ride of my life – back row, which means no seat-reclining possible, but the people in front of us felt free to back-dive into our laps, a crime which should be punishable by flaying, in my opinion.
But hey! We’re here! Reykjavik is welcoming, almost entirely English-speaking, and bright with sun. Alan, the night owl, stayed up to watch it set while I pulled my sleep mask down and tried to adjust my body clock. (Didn’t work.) I was up at 7 am and set out for the pool. The one near us is closed for renovation, so I ended up at the next-nearest one, which is? Heaven. HEAVEN, I TELL YOU. I tried to swim a few laps (in the 50-meter outdoor lap pool) but the water was so warm I yielded to its siren call to relax, stop trying so hard, just accept this amniotic bath in the spirt it’s offered, and got into one of the hot pots. Then got into another hot pot. Then tried another until, Goldilocks-like, I found the one that was juuuust riiiight. (There are at least six or eight. I lost count.)
And decided that, if Donald Trump is elected, this is where I’ll be living. Liquidate my 401K, buy a season pass and just poach myself until the nation comes to its senses.
I didn’t take a picture; I carried only my towel into the pool area. Tomorrow, I’ll snap a few. For now, there’s just this, a snap from last night as we wandered home. This was around 11 p.m.; sunset was still 50 minutes away and it never really got dark afterward. Sunrise was around 3 a.m.
Carry on, and I’ll check in later.