Reykjavík excursions

We have a proverb in Finnish which says "hyvin suunniteltu on puoliksi tehty" or "well planned is half done." Let me tell you, that's a mighty fine phrase. Surprisingly truthful.

The shenanigans began around 16.40 yesterday when I noticed I had gotten a letter from Pósturinn. The most I figured out of it was that I had received a package for which I need to pay tolls and taxes, and I need to fetch it from a post office quite a far away. I tracked it down, found a bus line from the route planner and thought that well, I'll give it a go. I also checked that the post office in question should be open until 18.00, and I wouldn't have troubles getting there. It was Friday anyway, so if I didn't go now, I'd have to wait over the weekend. It's not like I can get locked up anywhere or anything, right?

I rushed to Hlemmur just in time for the bus, which was not a full-sized one but a smaller service line type of thingy. The driver was Polish, and after taking the passengers in he chatted a storm with some of his fellow countrymen who were standing at the door. Nonetheless, we departed in time, and after that the driver dug up his phone and called someone. While I couldn't hear what he was talking about, of even figure out the language used, or even really care all that much in the middle of my city admiring, the whole bus could hear when he was finishing the call. Imagine full four minutes of the exaggerated cartoony suck-your-lips kissing sound and way too sugary bai bai's. All this from a bald, middle-aged Polish guy who's seemingly paying more attention to the phone than the bus he's supposed to drive and you are in.

The few passengers were trying not to chuckle too much, but it was all in good spirit and mood, everybody was smiling. Then there was two young looking Icelanders, a boy and a girl probably not even in high school age, holding hands. The girl was at least one head taller than the boy, and they were slightly blushing, smiling and exchanging slightly embarrassed, quick looks with each other. So cute!

I got off the bus where I was supposed to, but I was presented with a new challenge. I saw Pósturinn offices in two different directions, and trusting my instinct, headed towards the more "office" looking one down the road, instead of going up for the more industrial looking district. When I got to the door, I must've been slightly distracted by a cute Icelandic lady in a long, fluffy skirt who just came out, and I waltzed in without giving it too many thoughts, the door was open anyway. There was another set of sliding doors on the other side of the entrance, but to my surprise, they didn't open, even though I was there well before six. I wondered about it for a moment, and after that I noticed a vastly impressive array of security system on the wall. Several different panels for imputting keycodes or keycards. I thought that this probably isn't an office for visitors after all, and turned back.

The outer doors didn't open either.

So there I was, in the hallway of an Icelandic post management building, trapped between the glassy doors. I was quite dumbfounded, but after awhile started to look for a way out. I didn't bother to worry too much, since I doubted that the lady I saw would be the last person to exit that building today. I was looking at the security panels, but didn't dare to touch anything since they didn't seem to contain a clear "open those doors" button. I also saw the occasional person wandering about the other side of the lobby, but there was one more door between me and them, so they probably couldn't hear me knock.

Just as I was about to call the security service phone number I found from one of the panels, someone came out. I greeted him with an embarrassed smile and told him that I couldn't find my way out. Instead of entering some kind of a keycode he reached to the side of the outer doors and pressed a little button. Great. Getting out didn't require any kind of magic or inside information, but I hadn't noticed the small button over there, I just concentrated on the other wall. We laughed it off, and I had some dignity left in me and asked where I was supposed to go with the letter I had, and he pointed out that I indeed needed to go to the industrial looking area instead.

I promptly thanked him, noticed that I hadn't wasted more than 15 minutes of my life being ensnared, and thought that I still can get to the other office before 18.00 even without rushing too much. I did, found the main office and the toll department, only to find out that while the actual post services were indeed still open, the toll office had closed at 15.30. I took a closer look at the Pósturinn letter, and in clear Icelandic it mentioned the different opening hours for the toll office indeed. I would've been too late anyway.

During my stay in here, I've never felt so tourist as I did after all that. I was in a surprisingly good spirit though, just thinking about the old wisdom of "well planned is half done" and smiling at my combination of poor overall planning of the needless-in-any-case trip and the slightly bad luck and extremely good timing that got me locked up in an Icelandic Post building.

That was my afternoon. How was yours?