Iceland, Day 4: Le Cercle d'Or

CLICK ON THE PHOTOS TO ENLARGE THEM

Thursday was "Golden Circle Day." Every tourist to Iceland worth his or her salt takes this tour. It pretty much hits the high points within a 2.5-hour drive east of Reykjavík. We took the Reykjavík Excursions tour. However, what we didn't know was that Thursday was the one day a week that tours were available in French.

If you're A, it just meant that after every English explanation there would be a lot of French-sounding noise. If you're me, it meant that after every English explanation there would be a corresponding French explanation that you would do your best not to listen to, but would fail to accomplish. So I more or less heard every explanation/description/overview twice. In the words of our tour guide, "Think about that..."

Once we cleared Reykjavík and got about 45 minutes out of town, we hit a town called Hveragerði. While the town itself had greenhouses and a little bit of industry, it was pretty much just a tourist trap for unsuspecting bus people.

The garden spot that is Hveragerði...

What was surprising to me, though, was that the paparazzi were waiting for A, who was not amused.


Once we cleared Hveragerði, we made a quick pit stop at a crater called Kerið that was formed 6,500 years ago. Once we left Kerið, we got to hear about Iceland's social structure. One of the things the guide said was that 80% of the women in Iceland were employed full-time, which contributed to the downfall of many marriages. Who knew?

Yep, that's a crater...

Our first real stop was at Gullfoss, Iceland's most famous waterfall. The wind was strong, the rain was coming down, and the path was incredibly icy. Good times. That being said, though, it was a pretty impressive place, and despite the elements it was beautiful.

This is the path to the falls. Note the raindrops on the lens...

Gullfoss

After a whole 30 minutes at Gullfoss, most of which was spent navigating the path, we traveled on to Geysir (pronounced GAY-zeer). Geysir was the original spouting hot spring—all the others around the world are named after it. Before we visited the geysers, though, it was time for lunch. We were given a choice of either the buffet with traditional Icelandic delights, or what our guide called "fast food." We opted for the buffet, because we could get fast food at home. We should have gone for the fast food, because the buffet was terrible. As it turned out, what the guide called "fast food" was actually just a cafeteria, and would likely have been a hell of a lot better than what we ended up getting. Live and learn, I guess, but it was annoying.

We ventured up the path to the geysers, where it was unlikely that we would see Geysir itself erupting, as it only happenS 10-15 times a year. Happily, though, there's a backup called Strokkur (the Churn), which spouts up to 35m every 5 minutes. The signage surrounding the geyser field is virtually nonexistent, and it's up to you to figure out whether you're going to get soaked by Strokkur as you work your way to it. The whole complex smells of sulfur, but I suppose when there's steam coming ominously out of the ground it's fitting that it is reminiscent of Hell.

The Earth letting off some steam


Strokkur erupting

The obligatory racist statue in the gift shop

From Geysir we went to Þingvellir (pronounced THING-vet-lir). We saw where the American and Eurasian tectonic plates are moving away from each other, currently at a rate of two inches a year. The weather got really bad when we were there, so we got maybe 20 minutes to poke around, which is a shame. If it were nicer, it would have been cool to really explore the place, as it looked as if it could be extremely beautiful. Sadly we didn't get to see the Lögberg where the Alþing convened over 1,000 years ago. However, when I couldn't feel my fingers or my face, it was time to retreat to the bus. I will come back some day in the summer to see the rest of Þingvellir...

Þingvellir—"...like cracks on top of a cake..."

After we returned to the hotel, we decided to partake in the local shopping, because the mall was actually open late (that is, until 2100). We grabbed a cab to Kringlan (although some signs said Kringla—I never did find out why the discrepancy) while our coats dried in the hotel room. After checking out the stores (and buying a few more t-shirts, because after so much weather-related shirt changing I was running out), we opted for dinner at Café Bleu, the most upscale restaurant in the food court. As we were sitting there, a woman bumped into my chair. She then excused herself in a torrent of Icelandic, never once presuming to use English with me. This was not a normal experience with the natives, because ordinarily they could tell I was American from 1.6 km off. However, I was wearing my handy (and extremely warm) Norwegian sweater that A got me for Christmas a few years ago. It enhances anyone's Scandinavian quotient, and obviously worked for me this once. Also, we didn't really see many tourists in the mall, so the woman probably wasn't expecting any.

After a quick trip to Ben and Jerry's (see, Iceland's not completely uncivilized), it was back to the hotel to plan our next day.