EPILOGUE: Coming Home

It's still amazing how the changes in latitude affect the days. The alarm went off at 0400 but it looked more like 0800. It would figure that our last morning in Iceland was sunny, bright and beautiful. I decided to head down to the 10-11 for some breakfasty-type snacks and some much-needed caffeine. I finally got Liz the “Shrek Nuggets” she had so desired from a couple of nights before. “Shrek Nuggets” were actually a bag of bite-sized cinnamon rolls with a cross-promotional ad for the fourth Shrek movie, so she combined the two. We got our shuttle bus and caught the coach out to Keflavík. An important note is that, while in the airport, we stopped at Duty-Free and picked up a bottle of Brennivín for Liz's dad. More on that later.

We decided that IcelandAir sucks. It just seemed to be a genuine lack of caring, customer service, efficiency, and professionalism, so we were only too happy to disembark in Heathrow. Anyone who complains about security in the US should take at least one trip through London at some point in their lives. While it's FAR more invasive, it's INFINITELY more efficient and was almost pleasant compared to what we would later face at Dulles. After we checked in and checked our bags, we got in the line for the x-ray and I came to a horrifying realization: I still had the pint bottle of Brennivín in my backpack! Clearly, that would exceed the 3oz. limitation at the security checkpoint and we'd lose the bottle, so I panicked. We approached the security person and explained our situation and produced our duty-free receipt for the item and he graciously let us through after examining that the bottle had not been opened. There was the third “oops” of the trip and caused a near rumble between Liz and myself. Clearly, we needed to get home.

The flight from Heathrow to Dulles was pretty uneventful—just excruciatingly long, but delivered us home, which was all that mattered!

Day 13: Exploring Reykjavík

Wiped out is only a weak preamble to how we both feel right now. We had some exploring to do, though, so we were going to do it. I was up before the alarm again; knowing how early we'll have to get up tomorrow, we decided to keep getting up early. I showered in “the fart chamber” and shaved. We took our time getting ready since there was no real plan or schedule. After breakfast, we headed up to Laugavegur to actually see it with some of the shops open. It wasn't as thrilling as we might have thought, but there was some neat stuff to peruse. We walked down Laugavegur and then up the other shopping street, Skólavörðustígur (SKO-la-vuur-thoos-tee-goor), which led directly to Hallgrímskirkja (Hall-greems-kirk-ya), the massive cathedral at the center of town. What a striking building! As impressive as it is on the skyline, it is very clean and bright on the inside. You'd think that a cathedral such as this would be dark, solemn, and tinted with stained glass, but not so here. The crystal baptismal font and the pipe organ were the most impressive parts of this mighty church.

After that, we walked back to Laugavegur and found the vegetarian restaurant, Á næstu grösum (OW NICE-to GREW-sume), who had a very interesting buffet. It would all have been excellent if the chickpea salad hadn't been ruined with cilantro! PLEH! Tastes like soap. It was quite fulfilling nonetheless and gave us a second wind. We continued on to the city center and caught the bus back up the hill with Perlan our objective. We caught the 18 bus to The Pearl and it was marvelous. How cool to take hot water tanks and make an attraction out of it. A beautiful 360° panorama of the city that didn't cost 500 ISK each, like at Hallgrímskirkja. We got some of our best landscape photos yet up there, and I finally got my last hat for the collection.

I hadn't mentioned here, but I've collected a hat from each of the five countries we've visited. It started at Kauppatori in Helsinki, when I needed to shade my frying melon from the midday sun, and it became a fixation. I got two national baseball caps (Finland, Sweden), a bucket hat from Denmark, a tuque in Norway, and for Iceland, a baseball cap that says, “ég tala ekki íslensku,” or, “I don't speak Icelandic.” I thought it was amusing since that's the one language of the five that I bothered to learn anything about!

It was now about 1545, so we got the bus back to town and went back down Laugavegur (monotonous, eh?) in search of comfort food and an early dinner. Santa Maria! Some mighty good Mexican food. By this point, walking had given way to trudging, so as we walked down Hverfisgata (KVER-fis-gotta), the main through-street, we caught the bus and went ONE stop, to save us from walking that little stretch. We stopped at the front desk to arrange our Flybus pickup at 0435 tomorrow, so you can see our desire for an early bed. We got back to the room and started packing. I checked email and how fitting that our wedding photos would get posted today—the last real day of our Honeymoon. Pern and Karen did a fantastic job.

Since tomorrow will likely be all travel and not that interesting, I'll skip day 14 and write a summary tomorrow or Wednesday, if I have the energy. Signing off at 1928.

Day 12: Bathing on the Moon

*NOTE: It was at this point in the trip that Liz got sick of journal writing, so it's all Scott from here on out...

A later start today, a day that was meant to be relaxing. I was up before the alarm and decided to get a shower before the trip. The shower was a special experience. Because the hot water is geothermally heated and flows to Reykjavík at 81°C, they add a touch of a naturally-occurring sulfur compound to the water to prevent pipe corrosion. Imagine washing yourself with a stink bomb. We affectionately referred to our shower stall henceforth as “the fart chamber.” Fortunately, the smell doesn't linger on the skin, so that was a big plus. I woke Liz and we headed downstairs for breakfast and our 0930 pickup for Bláa lónið (BLAU-ah LO-nith), the Blue Lagoon.

It was 0945 when the bus picked us up and took us to the coach. Blue Lagoon is about halfway between Reykjavík and Keflavík Airport, so it's a popular spot for stopovers. It also means that it's about a 30-minute ride by coach. The Reykjanes peninsula is one of those wastelands that conjures thoughts of what the Moon would look like if it had an atmosphere. I know I've said all of this before, but it's one of those things to which I'd find it hard to grow accustomed.

The lagoon itself is an accident; what was initially thought to be an ecological disaster is now one of the most profitable businesses in Iceland. The nearby power plant was one of the first large plants in Iceland and, instead of feeding waste water back into the boreholes as the new plants do, they simply dumped it out onto the plains. When it was discovered that the water and the minerals contained therein were good for the skin, it was hailed as serendipity and the Blue Lagoon was born.

The resort-spa is a very cool system. You get an RFID-tagged bracelet that allows you to enter the facility, lock your locker, and charge refreshments at the swim-up bar. Once inside, we discovered that, due to strict hygiene laws, we were required to fully shower with soap and without clothing prior to as well as after bathing. Fortunately, they did have some showers with privacy stalls for we prudish Americans. We met outside the lockers and exited the building, greeted by about 55°F ambient temperature and a piercing drizzle on our now mostly-exposed skin. Quite fortunately, the Lagoon is naturally heated to around 104°F (possibly a fair bit higher in some spots, it seemed), so it was perfect. I think Liz described the mineral-rich water best, calling it, “skim milk with a drop of blue food coloring added.” It was most pleasant, and just what we needed.

People watching doesn't disappoint at the Lagoon either: there were some choices of swimwear that ranged from tragic to ill-conceived to requiring a strong concentration of eye bleach. What is it with German men and Speedos? Others of the young ladies present might have done well to have tested their garments for translucency before entering the pool. Note: I didn't want to look, but I couldn't avert my eyes in time!

We soaked and swam and explored all areas of the very large pool. We smeared the silica mud on our faces, having opted out of that tradition with wedding cake a couple of weeks ago. I even gave Liz a piggy-back ride! After we had fully pruned, we got out and rested a while before returning to the pool for our massages at 1300. Leave it to me to get the surly, silent masseuse out of the bunch. Her name was Ilsa and she seemed to think I was some kind of bongo drum. It wasn't a completely unpleasant experience, although it was fairly light on the actual massage part. One of the coolest parts of the massage, aside from the fact that you're partially submerged through the whole thing, was that after a while, they would pull you off of the submerged table and allow you to float on a foam mattress while continuing the massage fully underwater.

After an hour of that, we were severely pruned, so we opted to change back to street clothes and hit the Lava restaurant there at the facility. This was our first true miss of the whole trip. To say the buffet was lacking would be extremely kind; in fact, it was rather grotesque. Saved by the bell, however, as we now realized it was nearing 1500 and the buses ran on the 15s back to Reykjavík. We hustled out, briefly boarded the wrong bus, then got right and back to town. Since we got dropped at the central bus station instead of the hotel, Liz had the genius idea of procuring one-day bus passes for tomorrow.

We came back to the hotel to rest a bit and figure out what to do next. It's becoming clear that, although we're still enjoying ourselves, it's time to go home. After thirteen straight days of being on-the-go, it's tough to get moving again once at rest. We decided on simple and close for dinner, not wanting to repeat the failure of lunch. Two blocks up on Laugavegur, there was a wood-fired pizza place with a strong menu, so we hit it. A brilliant veggie pizza later, I was feeling refreshed. We decided at that point to finally take advantage of the 10-11 store under the hotel and made a crap raid. Ice cream, Pringles, skyr, strange candies and odd beverages—kickass! Skyr is a very interesting product: it's like triple-thick yogurt with a much more custard-like texture, but it's amazing stuff. Mine seemed to be peach-raspberry flavor and it was delicious. Although it's still kind of early in the evening, I wanted to get this done. We downloaded a Patton Oswalt stand-up special and we're going to watch before bed. Yeah, we miss TV too.

Day 11: Golden Circle

Oh, the early. Another night, another new bed, another climate not under control. I didn't sleep quite as badly as in the YOTEL! but it wasn't fantastic. We had to start at 0645 so we could get breakfast before our 0800 pickup, and they REALLY meant it: I suspect there were other buses, but we left the parking lot of the Fosshotel Barón at 0802! We stopped at a couple of other hotels along the way, completely filling the shuttle. Now, I've gotten used to being surrounded by non-English speakers by now, but I wasn't expecting almost half of the group to be German. It seems that, on Saturdays, the tour is given in English and German; Liz was digging it. All through the day, she was filling me in on little insights that the guide had left out of the English version of the tour.

The drive out of town was a good length, and we got to see more of Iceland’s strange and wild vastness. The clouds were heavy and low, so we couldn’t see the tops of the mountains, and there was a lot of fog in many places, combined with steam in other places from various geothermal vents, which give everything an overall other-worldly feeling. Somehow, given the otherworldly look of the terrain, it seemed fitting and wasn’t much of a hindrance to our day.

First stop was Nesjavellir (NES-ya-vet-leer), which I found odd, yet cool. It felt like climbing the Smokies to get there, though; the mountains here are serious. We learned that the stations like this pump heated water from boreholes, use it to heat fresh water, turn a steam turbine to generate electricity, and then pump it back into the ground to start the cycle over again. Efficient and eco-friendly; it generates no waste. The weather was somewhat bleak, misty, and dank, but it barely dampened the majesty of this place in its stark desolation. 58% of Iceland is desert wasteland and a further 11% is glacier. Oh, and the geothermal vents, boreholes, and steam smell strongly of sulfur—go figure!

After the power plant we headed to Þingvellir, the site of the original Icelandic parliament from 930 AD. Along the road, we had some spectacular views of Þingvallavatn, an enormous spring water lake. The site of Þingvellir was a little strange, since there’s no actual building to mark the spot (except a random church), but the area itself was incredible – a deep gorge with a wide path down the center making a slow descent to a wide open plain with a serpentine stream full of the clearest blue-green water I’d ever seen.

Walking through the gorge at Þingvellir was indescribable—we would later discover that this trench was actually the Mid-Atlantic Ridge. Sheer cliffs on either side of us stretched 150 feet over our heads, and here we were in the middle, feeling as if the Earth could swallow you whole at any moment. It was possibly my favorite part of the tour. The other thing that struck me here, as it did whilst flying in, was the color of the water. It resembled the fake blue water you often see here in mini-golf courses, but this was for real.

As we walked back to the coach, it started to mist and then genuinely rain, but it eased up as we left the area, and we were soon riding further across the strange wilderness to our next destination: Gullfoss. The golden waterfall was indeed impressive, as the river turned a corner, crashing down one small waterfall and then a larger one into an insanely deep gorge. We were allowed to walk down on the rocks right next to the waterfall, which was an awesome experience, although a little nerve-wracking since I’m about as coordinated as a three-legged giraffe on roller skates. I managed not to break my neck or fall over the waterfall, and only gave Scott a minor panic attack when he thought the route I was taking to climb down some rocks was pointing me straight into the falls.

The milky-white water seemed to have carved the ground with a sharp, flat chisel with an almost mechanical precision—the gorge walls were steep, deep and straight. Gullfoss isn't exactly on par with Niagara in terms of scale, but the combination of the landscape and this feature's effect was awe-inspiring and well worth the chill. We walked back up to the viewing area and then up a “small hill” to the cafe (pictures will describe why this is funny). Lunch was soup and it really perked us back up. While in the cafe/shop, I bought Liz a silver runic necklace that has the bindrune “ást” (OUST), which is Icelandic for “love”. I really think it made her day and it made mine to see her smile, despite the dampness.

After lunch, we headed to the Geysir area, so named for the original hot spring which gave us all the word “geyser.” Turns out the Geysir spring itself doesn’t erupt anymore, but the one next to it does every 5-7 minutes and we got to watch it spout at least three times during our little stop. The field of hot springs was a new type of terrain, all red rock and white silica, shallow pools carved by the hot water. There was steam rising up everywhere, and a small creek where the water flowed down after the geyser erupted. We managed to get some great video and photos of the area and the eruption itself, and were back on the bus headed out again before too long.

Our last official stop was the first bishopric in Iceland, a site called Skálholt. Our guide gave us a little history of the Church in Iceland, which was utterly amazing since Christianity became official here (by decision of the parliament) in 1000 AD. After the Reformation, the entire nation was officially Lutheran, but was given a freedom of religion clause in their constitution after gaining independence from Denmark. The current Skálholtsdomkirkja was built in 1956, but was noteworthy for having stained glass windows, which is rare in Iceland. The church was lovely, but by this point in the afternoon, we were growing weary of the tour and ready to get back to Reykjavík.

Condensing some of the other features of the trip, we saw Hveragærði (KVER-ah-gair-thee), containing more hot springs and greenhouses typical of the Icelandic countryside and Selfoss (SETL-foss), the largest town (pop: ~5000) on the south coast and home to one of the newest geothermal plants where we took an odd detour through the neighborhoods to see the fenced off foundation of a house that had one day sprung a geyser in the living room and had to be abandoned. The sun which had finally come out when we reached Geysir stayed mostly with us during the drive back, so we got to see even more of the landscape than before, and continued to be amazed by it all.

Tonight, we figured we'd hit Laugavegur (LOY-ga-vey-yur), the main shopping strip, and walk until we found something. We must just be drawn to Italian food. The restaurant was called Rossopomodoro, or some such, and the food was great. I had ravioli ai funghi Porcini in a cream sauce—very savory and enjoyable. I had a pizza with about every kind of cheese on it – mozzarella, ricotta, buffalo mozzarella, camembert, and gorgonzola.

On the way back, we were going to attempt to go to the waterfront to take some pictures, but the wind was chilly and we're tired. By the way, if we thought sunset on the boat was odd, it's just now after 2200, but the sky would suggest 1900 at the latest. This is EXACTLY why we brought the sleep masks. The odd thing is: here, where they're probably needed the most, there are no blackout curtains! Blue Lagoon tomorrow and we've earned it. I just hope the place doesn’t totally reek of sulfur the way the other hot water springs today have!

Day 10: Oslo to Reykjavík

No offense to the other cities we've visited so far, but this is the one we'd been waiting for. Iceland is where we'd always planned to go. I got up before the alarm and took a shower. Liz got up and we sauntered quite casually to breakfast, then back upstairs to pack. I really did enjoy Oslo: it was like the best parts of the other three cities rolled into one, even if none of them matched up to the others individually. The goal was to be out of the hotel by 1100, but we were ready just after 1000. We figured that we might as well head out and make the airport less stressful. Thanks to a stroke of luck at the tram stop and the wonderful Flytoget express train, we were at Gardemoen by 1100. It was, therefore, a pity that check-in didn't open until 1200. After check-in, it was through security and to the gate. Ordinarily, I'd leave minutia like security out of this journal, but since I realized I had left my watch at the checkpoint, I thought it relevant. My second big “oops” of the trip but, as with the first, all ended well and I got my watch back.

The airport itself was very modern and airy, reasonably well laid out and manageable. With all the time on our hands, we hit a tourist shop and picked up some souvenirs, and had a pair of baguette sandwiches from a restaurant near our gate. Waiting at the gate was pleasant at first, but grew tiresome quickly as more and more people showed up and started forming a queue for absolutely no reason. Said queue was, naturally, a large mass of people between where we were sitting and the nearest bathroom, which I, naturally, had to visit more than once. Boarding for the flight was delayed over 30 minutes, which had us departing 30 minutes late and arriving about 20 minutes late.

The flight was pleasant enough, as I spent most of it reading and Scott watched Sherlock Holmes (not as bad as I'd expected, per Scott). We didn’t get to see much of the landscape as we were descending because there was low cloud cover, but what we did see was impressive. After our arrival and long walk through the airport, we were picked up by our taxi driver and given a bag of utterly useless tourist info put together by the Nordic Visitor people. I can’t stress how nice it was to simply climb in the back of a taxi and mindlessly be shuttled to the hotel – I wish we’d had that in each city, not just those we arrived in by plane.

A couple of things leapt out at me about Iceland straight away: the parts of the landscape that aren't rocks seem to be covered in lupines and the water in the bay near Reykjavík is a color I have never seen before—it's a dark jewel teal where the sun hits it and it's magnificent.The landscape was barren, rocky, shaded with green from peat and moss, and almost completely desolate. Near the airport there were lupines EVERYWHERE and it was simply gorgeous, albeit totally uninhabited. Truthfully, I think I liked the fact that it was uninhabited – I kept imagining walking out across the strange landscape, wind blowing in my hair, taking shelter under rocky outcroppings and writing poetry and painting.

I guess we had forgotten that the airport is about 40 minutes outside Reykjavík, but it gave us a chance to see the “suburbs” of Iceland. The drive was other-worldly. If this had been the only part of Iceland I had seen, I'd have thought the island unfit for human habitation. It's completely alien with rocks, moss, and lichen everywhere and the odd patch of grass or pool dotting the scene. It may be the closest I ever get to walking on the Moon. It's as if the whole horizon is under construction. It was stirring and depressing, both awe- and woe-inspiring, and, on the whole, everything I'd hoped for.

Getting closer to civilization, all the little houses clinging to the harsh landscape looked so painfully beautiful, and the growing sprawl of the city in front of us seemed less and less appealing. Part of me wanted nothing more than to be in our hotel, where another part of me wanted to continue on that lonely road through the huge open wilderness for hours. I’m very glad we’re doing the Golden Circle tour tomorrow so we can see more of the natural beauty of this place. Civilization reared its head here and there and, finally, Reykjavík loomed ahead. Through low clouds and mist, it really did offset the wastes through which we had passed. We passed Perlan and not far from the massive cathedral, Hallgrímskirkja, and arrived at the hotel. For the first time in many years, we got an actual KEY to our room, not a card.

The Fosshótel Baron is kind of part of this weird juxtaposition – the front half of the hotel is shiny and new, all Scan style and aluminum siding, whereas the rear of the hotel looks like some long hall or lodge, and has rooms with whitewashed antique furniture and steeply slanted ceilings. Our room is one of these “historical rooms,” complete with an exposed wooden beams, one of which is vertical and clearly weight-bearing, judging by the long cracks along its grain. The only windows in the room are skylights in the severely angled ceiling directly over our heads as we lie in bed. The highest point of the ceiling is by the door, where there is an ornate chandelier for no apparent reason.

After settling a bit and catching up with the world, we started thinking about dinner. Being two hours behind the peninsula from whence we came, our stomachs were now screaming for food. Liz found a place about a block and a half away that served Balkan (Bulgarian, to be specific) food. Sure, let's go have an adventure! It was quite tasty and they had extensive veggie options. I had something called Sirene, which was a vegetable stew of some nature with goat cheese and an egg poached within it. I had zucchini which had been cut into thick slices, sandwiched with salty goat cheese, and fried. It was served with a yogurt-dill sauce and was indescribably tasty. The desserts were also good – a kind of chocolatey torte/cake with a baklava-ish quality, and a flan-like custard with burnt caramel sauce.

Because of the depressed economy here, it may have been our cheapest meal yet: at around 4500 ISK, that's about $36, including two desserts. Interestingly, on our way to dinner, we discovered that, direcly beneath our room, there is a 24-hour convenience store/supermarket. This could prove extremely handy later.

After dinner we walked back down the main shopping street to our hotel. The shops were all closed, but they looked interesting and I’m looking forward to exploring them. I’m excited to be in Iceland, but also somewhat homesick after 11 days away, and hopefully that the next few days will keep us busy enough to avoid being sucked into homesickness. Tomorrow should be very interesting since it’s a guided tour of the Golden Circle which is scheduled to take 8.5 hours and leaves at 8am. Luckily with the time difference, it’s 9pm here but feels like 11pm to us, so getting up at 7am tomorrow should feel like 9am and not be completely unbearable.

Day 9: Scott’s Birthday in Oslo

I got up, took a quick shower, and awakened my bride for breakfast. Like everything else in Hotel Bristol, breakfast was just that much classier; oh, it was all the same stuff, but it had style. In addition to the usual breakfast fare, they also had a chef present doing fried eggs and fruit smoothies to order. I think this has been my favorite hotel so far. We finished up our breakfast, loaded our pockets and bags, and headed out for the tram. Our destinations today were Akershus Fortress, Rådhusplassen, and the ship museums on Bygdøy peninsula.

It was another painfully beautiful day – crystal clear blue skies and about 70°F with a light breeze. We caught the tram down to the central station, picked up a second tram, then headed into Akershus Fortress. Really loving all the public transportation in these cities, especially the trams. Akershus is a medieval fortification that has been modified and expanded over the last ::mumble::hundred years, and was truly a magnificent sight. It’s still a living castle, with a working military base, and extensive reconstruction and renovation going on all over the place. We picked up the brochure for the walking tour and followed the stops around the outer walls of the fortress, making our way in to take the tour of the castle interior. Picked up the audio guide ‘cause it was free, which really enriched the experience, as we learned about the history of the castle and the various rooms on display. The British accent of the guide didn’t hurt, either! The weather was just too gorgeous to be believed, and I couldn’t get over the bright blue sky and lush green trees everywhere. Looking down and around at the views of the city from the fortress walls was amazing.

Akershus may be one of the coolest places we've yet been. Whereas most of the palaces we've seen have been gaudy, Baroque mini-Versailles clones, Akershus started life as a simple military fortification to which a castle was later added. This is not to say, however, that it did not have its adornments: Danish King Christian IV felt that his Norwegian realm needed some continental style and added many Baroque and Rococo touches to the castle. Comparatively, though, it was still very simple and martial in many ways. The fortress surrounding the castle was indeed imposing: the outer walls were 3m thick, 8m high, and other measurements as well (I really couldn't resist that). The problem with Akershus was that, after nine days of walking, the steep cobblestone paths, steps, and other obstacles were taking a serious toll on our already weary bodies. We got some fantastic pictures, though, of one of the oldest parts of Oslo (known until 1925 as Christiania...boy, that King Christian IV was a modest guy, huh?) backstopped by the very modern Oslo Sentrum. Even more starkly than in Helsinki, Oslo fuses Old Europe (via Denmark) with ultra-modern design. For a good example of this, I took a picture from our hotel window of the Oslo Tinghus (Court House), which is shining steel and glass, in the midst of the stuccoed walls of the old hotels and offices nearby; it's like a sore thumb, but a very shiny new one.

After Akershus, we climbed down to the harbor square in front of the Rådhus, the striking design of which has grown on me steadily since we got here. We had lunch at a restaurant near the docks, then Scott called home to say hello to his parents on his birthday, and I think he made them very happy. I hope he’s had a good birthday; I’ve tried to make things feel special for him without overplaying the fact that it’s his birthday, or thereby underplaying the fact that we’re on our honeymoon. After the phone call, we caught the ferry boat over to the tip of the Bygdøy peninsula.

In Rådhusplassen, we found a nice little dockside cafe. I was intrigued by the prawn salad, but I had, thus far, been resolute in my decision to only eat fish and not shellfish, so I ordered the fish burger. I was, therefore, very surprised to find that one of the toppings for the fish burger was prawn salad! In my short tenure as a pescetarian, I've been aware that shrimp is ubiquitous on seafood menus and I was fairly sure that, at some point, I would have to make that one exception to my shellfish restriction, though I hadn't expected it so soon. I went ahead and ate it, and I rather enjoyed it, in fact. These shrimp would not be the last in my immediate future. After lunch, I gave Mom a call for my birthday, since it was now a reasonable hour back home. It has been very tough to wrap my head around it being my birthday, but I never have liked to dwell on it and would rather keep myself busy.

Our first stop on Bygdøy was the Viking Ship Museum, which was beyond impressive – a collection of three Viking ships (used for VIP burials) dating from between 800 and 940 AD found amazingly preserved in the 1880s. The first ship on view in the hall was the most stunning, with ornately carved bows at both ends. The second ship was far more stout and sturdy, less ornate but no less beautiful. The third ship was more or less in ruins, but had the best preserved burial chamber. The artifacts found with the three ships were stunning, and I got some really great detail shots of the carvings on some of the pieces. The level of preservation of the wood was just phenomenal – something to do with the “blue clay” in which they were buried. The parallels between these Viking artifacts and the Anglo-Saxon finds at Sutton Hoo were less than subtle, both of which have obvious similarities to Celtic designs, and it's easy to see how connected the world was, even a thousand years ago. It was at this point, switching back and forth to "digital macro," to capture the ornate detail still visible on much of the wood, that the camera battery began to die, which left us terrified to use it beyond one or two quick snapshots for the rest of the day.

After leaving the ships, we debated on how we would get to the other museums on the peninsula and ultimately decided on the known route: back down the hill to the ferry and a short hop to Bygdøynes, where Fram and Kon-Tiki are kept. Fram came first, and it is noted as being the wooden ship to have traveled farther north and south than any other in history on its Arctic and Antarctic expeditions. It was nearly as large and impressive as the Vasa in Stockholm, albeit more modern, but it had one chief difference in the museum: you could actually BOARD the Fram! It was fascinating to see what is clearly a late 19^th century ship rigged for extended exposure to polar temperatures. It had all of the classic Victorian comforts, but with many pelts covering the floors of the crew cabins. You would have to be a hardy voyager indeed to take a cruise on this boat.

Time was running short on the museums' open hours, so we sped through the Fram museum and crossed the street to the Kon-Tiki Museum. The ships themselves -- Kon-Tiki, Ra and Ra II -- were less interesting than the man behind them. Thor Heyerdahl was an adventurer, seemingly unafraid of anything, but unlike, say Richard Branson, he was on a much higher mission. The experiments themselves were sociological, venturing to prove that Polynesians were possibly as skilled seafarers as the Vikings, and he set out to prove that their reed and papyrus crafts were capable of reaching all points in the Pacific, even as far as South America. His experiments were largely successful, but he discovered something along the way that became much more of a focus—environmental activism. Heyerdahl was the first to note that refuse and spilled oil did have an impact on even something as vast as the Pacific Ocean, and became a great champion of the environmental movement in the 70s and 80s. Walking through the museum of his works, only one word that came to mind: humbling.

The best part of the adventure, though, was Bygdøy itself, which was full of meandering little streets packed with beautiful houses. We overheard a woman on the ferry over there saying that a lot of people live there and commute to downtown Oslo via the ferries. We took the bus back so we could get a sense of how far we had travelled, and saw just how close the bucolic escape was from the city center – there was an official royal farm on the way into town!

Back in town, we strolled up from Karl Johan’s gate to the hotel where I took a short nap while Scott uploaded pictures and researched a restaurant for dinner. He settled on a chain restaurant pizza joint, which proved to be quite tasty, although it was unpleasantly warm in the restaurant itself and we couldn’t wait to get out! Peppes Pizza is a chain that started in Norway and is branching out internationally, and it had some very interesting-sounding pizzas and toppings. I had a pizza that had curry and garlic-marinated shrimp with green peppers, leeks and lime. This place would challenge the mighty California Pizza Kitchen if they had American locations; I still can't believe I ate the entire 12” pie! We stuffed ourselves too much for dessert, which was kind of a shame since it was his birthday and all, but it’s all good. Back at the hotel I got a shower while he checked us in for our flight to Iceland tomorrow, and we’re now sitting with the window open listening to the bustle of a busy city for what will probably be the last time on our trip – although Reykjavík is a capital city, it’s probably going to be pretty quiet compared to where we’ve already been!

Tomorrow, we fly to Iceland, our final stop. Here, we can turn off our brains (and feet) since most of our time there is prearranged and transport is provided. I'm REALLY looking forward to the Blue Lagoon Spa and that leg massage now!

Day 8: Beautiful Day for Oslo

It was kind of a rough trip out of Copenhagen: the water really moved us about, but we both survived and slept fairly well. Woke up early to get to the breakfast buffet ahead of the crowds (at least, that had been the plan) and watch the views along Oslofjord. The breakfast buffet was a major Charlie; I'm almost certain that we brought the entire island nation of Japan with us to Norway. The food was as unremarkable as dinner the night before, but the view from the ship was anything but. As the time passed and the boat sailed on, I was getting a little antsy, so I left Liz a bit early and went up on deck to get some pictures of the towns and islets as they rolled by.

Eventually, Liz caught up to me and we promptly ran the battery out on the camera. Silly me, I thought we had gone easy on it the day before and it didn't need an overnight charge (an unfortunate omen of things to come). Since it had been my fault, I dashed back below decks to plug the charger in, but that pretty much spelled the end of photography for the approach to Oslo. There were spectacular views of blue-black glassy water and green piney hills, chock full of little houses, many on smaller islands only reachable by boats. Although it was definitely reminiscent of maritime Canada, it was still unlike anything I’d ever seen before. The morning was sunny and gorgeous, and we kept running back and forth across the ship’s upper deck to catch the sights from each side.

The approach was insane. Although the Crown of Scandinavia was not as big as the Silja Serenade, it was still a very large ship and Oslo Fjord is not large. Some of the turns and narrow passages were a little hair-raising, but these pilots are professionals and it was a magnificent dance to get through. When we docked and disembarked, there was allegedly a bus waiting to take us from the ship to Oslo's Central Station, but neither of us could find said bus, so we followed the crowd and walked. Seven blocks of a gentle-but-steady uphill walk later, we found the station, the tourist information office, got our Oslo Passes and boarded the tram for the hotel.

It was just now after 1100 and we figured that we were facing a morning much like Day 3 in Stockholm: drop your shit off at the desk and find something to do until you can check in. Having already expended a fair amount of energy just getting to the train station, this was NOT an appealing prospect, but we're soldiers and we'll do what we must. Someone does take pity on the weary traveler, though, because our room was ready for us and we could check in immediately. Hallelujah! Our room is probably the best of the trip so far: it has the feeling of being in someone's home rather than a hotel. We're on the sixth and top floor, right next to Josephine Baker's Suite, with beautiful windows that open and look out on the Domkirke and the rest of the inner city.

Arrival in Oslo had been a bit chaotic, and the bright sun was H-O-T as we schlepped our bags all the way from the boat terminal to the central station. We ended up taking a mid-day nap, as we’d been awake since 6am and the walk from the bus terminal had nearly killed me (and Scott as a bystander to my general frustration with bumpy sidewalks and rolling luggage), then went out to explore the city after lunch near the hotel.

Not wanting to stray too far into Oslo, we found a place on the next block called Malik's which, given its hours, must be major drunk food, not unlike Mario's back home (NOTE: In the hand-written version of this journal, I noted here how poor my penmanship had gotten and suspected that maybe I was drunk already!). I had a falafel plate with fries; I've never seen falafel made into a burger before, but it was delicious and I demolished the plate.

We followed our plan to a tee, riding the tram through the town after lunch and realizing just how far we had walked with our heavy suitcases this morning. We really have put in some miles on our feet for this trip, but we kind of expected it. From Jernbanetorget, we walked over the pedestrian bridge to the gleaming white Operahuset, which is literally built into the harbor. Inspired by the look of an iceberg, the building was brand new, made of sparkling white marble and glass, with incredible sloping angles going right down to the water. The design of the building was such that people could climb up the strange angles and actually walk on top of the Opera, an adventure I left for Scott while I sat on the makeshift shore looking at the water.

With Liz's feet hurting, I made the climb alone, but I'm very glad that I did, although it did make me wish I'd brought my sunglasses. The marble from which it is made is impossibly white and quite painful to the naked eye. On a beautiful day such as this one, though, looking out over the water and mountains and city provided yet another of those “wow, this is cool” moments. It's hard to tell in the pictures, but I did sneak a zoomed in photo of Liz sitting on the “beach” slope awaiting my descent. The interior of the Opera was just as gorgeous, with light wood forming a sound-diffusing wall between the foyer and the performance area, which made the area eerily quiet, despite its height and scale. After resting for a bit in the Opera House, we crossed back to Jernbanetorget and got back on the tram.

We rode through the charming neighborhood of Frogner to the Vigeland Sculpture Park, which was utterly astounding. Something like 80 acres of lush trees, pristine lawns, sandy paths, ponds and streams, shady glades of tall trees, and hundreds of sculptures. A kind of arcade of bronze figures led to a plaza with a huge fountain. From the fountain, a series of terraced small gardens led up to the peak, where a giant monolith of bodies stood atop amazing views in all directions. The sculptor, Gustav Vigeland, was inspired by the human form, and the sculptures throughout the park depict the nude body in all stages, ages, and contortions. The statues immediately surrounding the monolith were carved in granite, and contained so much humanity despite minimal embellishment. The curves of the arms and shoulders were simply correct, rather than agonizingly detailed like Renaissance sculptures, and laying a hand on the granite felt like touching a real person. I probably took two hundred photographs in the garden, and could happily have stayed there all day, snapping away and touching smooth biceps and cool stone faces. Then some morons approached the wrought iron gate (basically stained glass without the glass) and the girl posed as if touching the stylized penis of the figure while her boyfriend snickered and took the picture…sigh.

Now very weary, we headed back to Sentrum in search of dinner. I suggested we head up Karl Johan's Gate, which seems to be Oslo's version of Strøget, but not quite so...well, København. I'd searched through the immensely helpful city guide in our hotel room and found a place that claimed to have Mexican food (which we'd been craving intensely) called 3 Brødre just off Karl Johan's Gate. After some souvenir shopping and browsing through an amazing store called DesignTorget, we managed to find 3 Brødre, but were shocked to find that it was a piano bar? Sneaky, sneaky they are in Oslo: they hid the Tex-Mex Lounge in the basement! The food was good, but it's not quite Los Toltecos. I had a grilled vegetable burrito and it was rather good and contained no broccoli. A funny moment occurred (I'm still laughing as I write this) when the odd country music being piped into the restaurant played Merle Haggard's “You Don't Have To Call Me Darlin',” which Dan has had us practicing for a change-up. I absolutely lost it when he got to the verse that we use, which starts, “I was drunk the day my mom got outta prison.” You can imagine where it would go from there!

After dinner, we were thoroughly exhausted, so we strolled past Stortinget (the open-air market, which was closing for the evening) and back to the hotel for the nightly ritual of uploading the day's pictures to the laptop and writing in our journals. Tomorrow is Scott’s birthday, and I can’t wait to explore Akershus castle and the ship museums on Bygdøy.