After a flight enlivened by bone-rattling turbulence and a madwoman making a scene in the plane, my first glimpse of Iceland was, appropriately, the bright glacier of Snaefellsjökell (see previous entry), followed by a rapid descent into Keflavik. From the airport, it was a hour´s bus ride across chaotic black lava fields to Reykjavik.
Walking the streets of the little capital gave me a strong first impression. Some things here look European, but the overwhelming resemblance is to the towns of Eastern Canada. You could easily mistake a block of downtown Reykjavik for St. John´s, Newfoundland, or perhaps Halifax. The people even seem to walk the same way, and have the same looks on their faces.
I have already had a most enjoyable encounter with Sigurdur Jón Ólafsson and Inga Guðbjartsdóttir, who gave me a comprehensive overview of the city´s neighbourhoods. This was the first of what I suspect will turn out to be many delightful and informative conversations.
At the moment, I am jet-lagged, my body demanding sleep. But tomorrow, I will beging serious exploring on foot.
The title is a direct quote from Inga.
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