Now that the whirlwind has ended, and we are back home, I can finally settle down and digest the adventures that we were lucky enough to have.  England and Scotland (and Iceland) were so much more than we could have wanted or expected and there just really isn’t anything to say except –  YAY!!!!!

From Reykjavik, to Oxford, to Stratford to Bath. From Salisbury to London to Edinburgh and back.  Every place carried some weighted depth that altered us in experience.  More than anything I found that I was back in my head again, like I was this summer as we traveled by car across the United States, digging into my own stream of consciousness and knowing I need to be creative and to write and to explore the world.  I felt that way when I started this blog, and as we hurdled ourselves across the English countryside (on the WRONG side of the road), I was back there, in my head, feeling really excited.

Travel it seems is a unifier in these stories. Travel shakes me up, shakes us all up and I think, as much as it scares me, that I need much more.

But let’s pause and reflect on where we went on this adventure, this small three weeks in Europe.

Iceland

A land of quiet, and not especially friendly people, who love children and Elves.

Oh, Iceland.  You are so elusive and exotic in all your volcanic rock, chubby horses, lack of sun and mountains of snow.

We scheduled a 9-hour layover at the beginning of our trip with the hopes that we could escape the airport and see a little of this far nothern country.  This also served the purpose of waking us up by force our first day in Europe, so that our clocks could reset.

The truth is that all you can see in winter is a little of Iceland as the sun is only up for just over 3 hours at the winter solstice.  So, in the pitch black of night, which was actually 9a.m. in the morning (the pictures here), we took a bus to Reykjavik in search of breakfast.

I’d noticed our flight attendants on the trip over from Seattle (all looking a bit femmbot’ish with blond hair, square shoulders and nearly identical jawlines), weren’t exactly warm and fuzzy to us.  They were however, gushing over my youngest, literally bending at her whim.  Now, I think she is gorgeous, but this was a bit much.  As it turns out, it wasn’t just them and it wasn’t just our daughter. Children in Iceland seem a treasured thing.  Not a soul we encountered smiled at my husband or I (not one), but every one of them took time to greet our kids.  Fascinating.  Strange, but fascinating.

Elves as well seem to take top priority for Icelandic society, not that I can disagree, and they are literally everywhere.  It was Christmas time and so the elves were especially frisky, dancing in video projection across public buildings, climbing the walls of the airplane cabin as stickers. Amazing. When you live in a land where the sun just won’t shine for several months of the year, dancing elves are pretty much a necessity I think.

We marched about in the dark in Reykjavik until we found what seemed the only breakfast place. It was, sadly, called “Laundromat” and was attempting to serve American style diner breakfasts.  This wasn’t our goal, but it was the best we could do.  The coffee was hot, the eggs were yellow and it worked.

A quick stop at the Icelandic Knitting Association’s shop for some wool and then we were back by bus to the highlight of the day 9during daylight), swimming at the thermal pools (The Blue Lagoon).

Just pretend with me here that you too are swimming in a pale blue green natural pool, the bottom of which is covered in volcanic rock that has been coated in a thick hard white silica, creating soft bumps and curves to slide your feet over.  The volcanicaly heated water is warm like a bath in most of the pool (and the outside temperature is like an icy knife), but then, closer to the vents it gushes hot, burning your skin if you get too close. Japanese tourists abound, as do locals, and curious foreigners from every walk of life. Everyone traveling through Iceland had stopped at the pools that day, by my count.

After an hour or so of soaking we braved the short run for our towels and then went to vigorously fight the silica out of hair in the locker rooms.  Actually, my daughters hair was stiff with silica for the next week, but who cares, it was all for fun.  Back in our parkas we headed to the bus and back to the airport for another non-friendly ride to England.

There is so much more to explore here, I know, but for now our little stop in this land of opposing personalities is enough to tide me over. Next time we’ll try for summer, and a little more light. Maybe then the locals will talk to us? Maybe.