Good omens

Well, the interview's done. She showed remarkable patience in spelling embarrassingly many of her answers and even translating a couple of my wacky extra questions to Icelandic, thus extending the list of things I can say in the language these days pretty much to: yes, no, I, hot chocolate, numbers from five to nine (one to four have to be declined), to be or not to be, sunny is a nice weather for ducks, how to disappear completely and to set yourself in fire.

I think I actually need to figure out "... and never be found" to be even bit more of a show off.

My visitors seem to be travelling under some truly favourable stars, since Iceland has been gracing us for the past two days with the most perfect weather. It's been barely freezing definately cloudless almost all the time. Instead of a "spot the sunshine" -game we've actually been resorting to "spot the sole cloud".

Yesterday evening was dedicated to visiting the Blue Lagoon which is kind of an industrial accident turned into a tourist trap. I make the premise sound a wee bit sour, but I couldn't help being very very enchanted by the place. Should you have never been there, take a look at this photo from a little pond next to the entrance to actual spa facilities. It gives you an idea. In addition to the water being something like what we in Finnish tend to call "bird's milk" the views were just spectacular, if you could ignore the power plant in the background, of course. We were one of the last guests to leave, so we got to watch the day turn into a night in the lagoon. If possible, it was even more beautiful in the evening lighting. Several couples seemed to agree, making out more or less discreetly in the water.

One of the Blue Lagoon's fun effects was that my beard was afterwards very stiff. I probably could've used it as a substitute steel brush and employed myself in the paint removing industry. The womenfolk complained that their hair was tying itself on dreadlocks, but they looked way too relaxed and happy for those complaints to be taken seriously. I had it in my hair as well, and I totally looked like an anime character this morning. I wouldn't give full credits to that bird milk water though, since I often do. Like I've been saying, I don't have bad hair days, I just have different hair days.

After a well slept night we embarked on a Golden Circle tour. Like I wrote earlier, I had been a terrible Iceland habitat, and hadn't really seen any of the landscape outside the city yet. It was as much discovery for me as it was for my guests. The weather was very generous for us to show everything in its full glory. The landscapes are just out of this world. Since I come from the land of ubiquitous flatness and view-blocking forests it is just such a different experience to see the rocky, harshly chiseled cliffs and plains roll in constantly different bur always unearthy shapes and forms. The texture and color of the landscape is ever changing, from mossy green to burnt orange to completely dark gray and barren. And since that apparently isn't enough, everything is here and there sprinkled with curiously colorful houses, weird steam-producing contraptions, rivers that seem too quirky to ever flow straight and beautiful horses.

The whole country seems so special that it seems like an understatement towards it to call some specific places "must see sights." It also makes me wonder how thoroughly you get used to the things you grow up with. You just unconsciously start to take for granted something that someone else conciders the most enchanting thing they have ever seen. I know that the tourists visiting Finland look at everything completely with a completely different glee than I do, and many Icelanders don't seem to get all the enthusiasm we outsiders feel towards their landscape.

Yet sights we saw. The first stop occurred next to an information plate at Þingvallavatn which sort of caught us by surprise, nobody was paying attention to the right side of road when someone went "hey guys..."

The most marvellous part of Þingvellir I saw was the visitor centre. I say this with a little sadness in my soul, but it was also pretty much the only part I saw. Here I saw some indications that dad would've loved to go wherever I would've gone, but the stepside of the family didn't seem very adventurous. There seemed to be a fundamental difference in thinking about travelling between us. They didn't want to take the effort of walking down there because they didn't really know what they would've found there. I would've wanted to go exactly for the same reason. I realized that I'm not the tourist on this trip, so I just better suck it up and come back some other time, since I'll be able to. No arguments involved, but I felt a little bad for being so close and not actually seeing anything besides this view.

The geysir was up next, and what a jolly site it was! The first amusing thing was running into a couple of fellow Finnish exchange students also doing the same daytrip with their parents. The second were the chocolate muffins. The third were geysirs, when we finally got back outside. Dad has been to Yellowstone and the Old Faithful before so the phenomenon wasn't new for him, but the rest of us were caught admiring. This one also seemed a lot more active, going off every few minutes instead of every 46, if he recalls correctly. I've often spoken how one of my favourite feelings is this childlike amazement and wondering, when for example you aren't aware of how something works. I still occasionally get this when going to Heureka for example. Yes, I do love the place and its relatives, but I can now confirm that it's even greater when you get it in the nature instead of with something that was man made.

The last planned stop was at Gullfoss. The wind was very strong and apparently again demotivating for a part of our expedition, and they didn't want to descend to actually see more than an overview of the waterfall. This time I couldn't not go, so I sent them to wait at the café while I rolled downwards on the icy but surprisingly unslippery path. And as you might imagine, it was worth it. I was too busy being impressed and watching the thing slowly unfold to me to feel bad for the others. One thought that makes me feel especially warm is that even though it looked fantastic today, next time I'll visit it will probably be in a completely different weather and it will not look the same. The famous philosophical phrase about one not being able to step into the same stream twice seems truly in effect in here.

When we started heading back towards the City we could watch Geysir go off a couple of times more, but this time from a distance and in the car. We were around Hveragerði when the sunset was starting to be at its most perfect and since the road 1 emulates a true serpentine path just after, we were able to look down to the town which was being colored all over with pink and gold. Sadly no pictures from this.

What more can be said? I had tremendous time and Flickr is loaded with new stuff. I finally got around to see any of the things I came here for, and even if it took long, I can't be angry at myself about it any longer. And tomorrow, I hope, Snæfellsnes.