TRAVEL DIARYI: 31.07.04 II: 01.08.04 III: 02.08.04 IV: 03.08.04 V: 04.08.04 VI: 05.08.04 VII: 06.08.04
07:10 Contrary to popular belief, I have slept excellently this night, but now that it is morning, the atmosphere is just as busy as yesterday, and when I realize this, I feel tired enough. The streets are still completely barren when I look from our window, not a soul about. Looking at the clock, there is too little time to prepare for the day, (you should consider me a woman as far as preparing for things go) but I force myself up. Dragging downstairs, mummified, I try to gnaw some breakfast as fast as I can (and only managing to get my stomach completely messed up in the process). We quickly dash upstairs, grab our backpacks with Risto and rush downstairs (while he remarks about remembering the room key once again) to wait for today’s bus. Finally, a bus arrives almost an hour late. Dad, being the most impatient (and already standing outside, waiting for something to happen), gets us on it by showing his ticket to the driver, only to later notice that we’re on the wrong bus, and our papers have been marked for yesterday’s trip - the wrong one! Luckily everything unravels: Iceland Excursions have a moving travel office bus sitting at a local gas station where they drop everyone off and cram them in the right vehicles. We find ours rather easily and the problem is solved. We are on the right train to Nevada.
10:00 It seems every tourist bus driving down road 1 is set to stop in Hveragerði’s “Garden of Eden”, the most idiotic tourist trap attempting to rid tourists of their money in Iceland. A pathetic attempt, really, however it did serve as a certain kind of haven for me, as my tummy was about to explode. Thank god for WC establishments. The guide on today’s bus also awarded me with some more knowledge regarding the emptiness of the town: I knew it was a local holiday, but the guide additionally told us it was the holiday when everyone leaves town. Everyone. The city’s gotta pack a punch tomorrow, it has got to. Sweet.
11:40 We stop at a medium-size waterfall called Hjälparfoss. Mommy drops a full film roll in a heap of rocks, effectively ridding the world of my photos taken with a normal camera this far. Noshowup. The fall’s excellent though.
12:30 A stop at a godforsaken motel built of green containers, called Hálendismiþstöþ Hrauneyjar. You leave your shoes in the entrance hall and everything seems shared. There are even real towels in the bathroom (talk about washing). This place is literally in the middle of nowhere, very eerie.
13:30 We stop to take some photos as the bus progresses to climb over the green hills and mountains. It's such a shiver and a shake with the bus bouncing around and about wildly on the piss-poor road, and there are several cars coming at us and the bus has to slow down or stop practically once every minute. The views are fantastic once we stop, however, and signals to us that we will be reaching Landmannalaugar soon. The bus driver scares us all (except for moi, who is having bizarre fun looking at other people’s faces) by almost backing off into a gorge – the road really is not that wide, so it is of course natural to slide off the cliff and kill some hapless tourists. Ha.
It begins raining again while we are shooting photos, and as the last crazy bugger climbing up to every damn mountain at every damn stop gets back in the bus, we head onwards through these gloomy views. As we get over to a wacky camping site in a valley at Landmannalaugar, Risto instantly realizes this place is not meant for kids, and subsequently our travel guide announces that we will spend two hours there. I found my masochistic side easily and enjoyed a long walk through rock (stone), sheep and the beautiful views in the rain. It was a long two hours, but well worth it. Suggested for people who want to suffer or torture their children amidst beautiful views. It's funny that it rained the whole time. The thing I was largely disappointed by was the fact that there were really no natives bathing in the warm spring that bubbles at the camping site. I had read earlier that Icelanders never wear swimming suits to the pool (as it’s not required). Well, since... ...um... yea, everyone was a bloody tourist. I wonder why digital camera batteries run out the moment you would actually need them? Very annoying. I managed to steal some photos with empty batteries, nevertheless.
15:40 Newsflash #1: I’m wet.
It’s funny how easily you can actually make out the somewhat poorly pronounced English the travel guide is speaking. The only downside to Icelandic guides is that they actually pronounce names of attractions and towns as they should be pronounced, thus rendering them impossible for the Finnish ear. I have to look things up in the map and in my books and brochures all the time just to make sense of things… It’s getting pretty late when we arrive at Klöpp. We stay, as usual, for a cup or two of coffee and then slowly retreat upstairs, tired. I forgot to tell you we’re situated on the third floor (there’s six, I think) in rooms 304 and 303. Living together in a hotel room with Risto can sometimes be very, very interesting, if you ever wanted to try I would suggest a gas mask and a cattle prod... but he is rather good company, nevertheless. I'm glad to be on a trip with him. I could just fall asleep on the floor, but we go dine in Indókina again - and I would never have anything against eating in a restaurant. It proves to be one of the most excellent restaurants in the city, and my Wan Tai Squid is perhaps the spiciest thing I’ve ever eaten – and that’s a lot said! Rocks my tongue to the bitter end. Everyone else enjoys a good meal as well, except for father perhaps, who had his stomach all upside down and doesn’t really enjoy Chinese-Taiwanese food either (at all? I’m surprised he liked the stuff even a little.) After a stroll to the nearby grocery store, 10-11, to pick up some items for tomorrow, we stumble upstairs. 21:15 As we open the tv, "The Man Show" is on Popp Tíví. Boy does this one rock your manly socks. This program is built on gyrating hips, lingerie, beer and trampolines. Gyrating hips in lingerie on trampolines. This reminds me largely of Japanese exploitation tv, but it’s actually an American show hosted by Jimmy Kimmel and Adam Carolla. Odd stuff. |
