Wandering Blogger

travel advice from someone doing it

Posts Tagged ‘Reykjavik’

What travelers hope to find on the Wandering Blogger

Posted by migrantblogger on September 19, 2008

I’ve picked up the habit of posting the most popular search terms used to find my other blog, Migrant Blogger, and I think I’ll do it here. Wandering Blogger is finally picking up some momentum! Well, since launching, the most popular search term appears to consist of variations on “Cafe Mozart closed,” often including “Manhattan” or “New York” in the query. Yes, the restaurant did close, much to my chagrin (but not my father’s). The place lost its lease, which is why it shut down (to answer one search engine-based question).

For those of you looking for absinthe in Naples, FL, your SOL– at least if you’re looking for real absinthe. You can’t get it anywhere in the United States. But, if Naples, FL is on your mind, you might want to check out the Ritz-Carlton Golf Resort. I spent a weekend there and loved it. Learn more at TraderDaily.com or TripAdvisor. Gare du Nord, a train station in Paris, Albert Maes, and foreign street signs are popular as well.

Also, someone was looking for “Blue Lagoon Spa fucking.” I get it. The Blue Lagoon Spa is a great destination not far from Reykjavik, Iceland. I assume they frown upon sex in the lagoon, but I guess it’s worth a shot.

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Answers to Your Search Term Questions

Posted by migrantblogger on August 19, 2008

I take a look at the search terms used to find the Wandering Blogger. It helps give me a sense of what interests you. Looking at yesterday’s and today’s activity, it looks like a few of my readers are looking for answers. Just in case you didn’t find them before, I’ll make them explicit now.

Today, someone wanted to learn about the “JetBlue Customer Commitment Team”. Interesting. If there is such a group, I’m pretty sure they’re just as ineffective as everyone else at JetBlue. This airline seems committed to stranding people in airports, and that’s about it. So, if you have a choice between JetBlue and any other airline, take the latter.

Speaking of JetBlue, it appears to be my most popular search term. Readers have hunted for the following:

  • JetBlue diverted
  • JetBlue Newark delays 2008
  • JetBlue flight cancellations August 17

Some of those were pretty specific. I guess someone else got screwed by JetBlue …

One reader wants to know how long it takes to get from Reykjavik to the Blue Lagoon resort in Iceland. It’s about 45 minutes by bus, though you can probably get there a bit faster if you rent a car. I absolutely loved my trip to Blue Lagoon, so check out my blog entry on it.

For the reader who wants to know what to pack for a trip to Nice, France in August: it gets hot. I’d go with shorts and short-sleeved shirts. Yes, you’ll stand out as an American, but live with it. They’d have figured it out from the cowboy hat anyway. Definitely pack a bathing suit, but keep in mind that the beaches are different in southern France. Instead of having sand, they have smoth stones. They won’t hurt your feet, but it makes building castles a tad more difficult.

A few stragglers:

Internext Hollywood 2008 was probably for someone looking for pictures of hotties rather than coverage of my amazing panel on the adult economy. One would-be traveler is interested in the “Grand Spa at Tabacon,” and another has an interest in North Korea’s 2009 Mass Games. Well, he should know that Arirang will not be held next year, so it’s 2008 or 2012. Act now.

Of course, if you ever run out of travel ideas, you can always check out my column at TraderDaily.com >>

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I love hot dogs

Posted by migrantblogger on August 17, 2008

They may be foreign; they may be domestic. Either way, I am a big fan of the food nature could never have produced on its own. You’ve seen me eat a hot dog in Reykjavik, Iceland, and you’ve heard my thoughts on dogs served in Massachusetts and New York. Well, I have finally added a new delight to the list.

I stopped by a dog shop in Montreal, yesterday. I have to say, it wasn’t bad. From what I understand, this was the best Montreal had to offer.

The verdict? Montreal offers a good dog, certainly far above average. But, it does have a way to go before it can compete with Swamscott, MA’s Popo’s or the crazy shop in Reykjavik.

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Deprived of my aisle seat

Posted by migrantblogger on August 17, 2008

Airlines can’t even be nice without screwing up. My wife prefers window seats; I like the aisle. So, if we decide to sit next to each other, one of us suffers—which is the only way to describe a middle seat on an international flight. Generally, we try to sit in the same row, with my wife at the window, me at the aisle and possibly a stranger between us.

Retrospectively, it seems IcelandAir does not approve of this arrangement. When we tried to choose our seats in advance, the airline’s website automatically “upgraded” my aisle seat to a middle seat next to Laura. IcelandAir supports the preservation of the family and does not want to split couples. But, if we reserved seats in separate rows, the computer got the hint. So, one of us was to sit in row 18, the other in 19.

When we checked in at the IcelandAir desk in Helsinki, my wife and I confirmed our seats, telling the clerk that we were quite happy with what we had. I looked forward to a four-hour flight from Helsinki to Reykjavik with room for my legs. Of course, airlines are a cure for happiness, and my luck took a southward turn.

At the gate, the clerk printed slips of paper for my wife and me when scanning our boarding passes. Having noticed that we weren’t sitting together, the computer reshuffled the plane. My wife and I were moved to row 7, much further forward than rows 18 and 19. But, I knew immediately what this meant. I was relegated to a middle seat. I would lose my legroom.

The fucking Nordic oaf sitting in front of me felt the urge to recline, despite sitting in an exit row and having plenty of space in front of him. I responded by driving my knee into his back and shifting it frequently, causing him to look over his shoulder often … though failing to change his behavior. Meanwhile, the arrangement worked out for my wife. Laura still had a window, and there was no seat in front of her; she could stretch out her legs.

Of the many ways an airline could screw up, this is by far the most creative.

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Shots of Suommenlinna

Posted by migrantblogger on August 17, 2008

Just a heads up, TripAdvisor has finally approved my review of the CenterHotels Arnarhvoll in Reykjavik. Check it out >>

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The Blue Lagoon: Pure Relaxation

Posted by migrantblogger on August 17, 2008

I normally don’t like to relax. Seriously, it’s not my thing. Whether I’m writing, smoking, walking, reading or yelling at a civil servant, I always have to be doing something. Often, I like having a few irons in the fire, for example, yelling at a civil servant while pacing and smoking my pipe. That’s a cool mental image that I offer to you free of charge.

The Blue Lagoon, more than an hour outside Reykjavik, doesn’t provide civil servants, smoking dens or anger triggers. The sole purpose of this destination is to help you unwind. So, I wasn’t sure how I’d handle it. I’ve only been truly relaxed once in my life– October 1999. I was on a beach in Carmel, CA for a few hours while out west on business. For some reason, that particular spot on that day did it. But, my life was so packed with stress at that time, that I had the need to truly relax.

I’m in a better place now, so I didn’t expect Iceland’s Blue Lagoon to work wonders, but I figured it would be a nice break from the norm. It was. Laura and I were there for several hours, and I was not looking at my watch the whole time.

The Blue Lagoon is a tourist spot, and one look at it explains why. The geothermal pool is a deep blue, and it is surrounded by moss-dotted volcanic rock. Hell, just to look at it would have been worth the hour-long bus ride at the hands of one of the world’s worst drivers (I’m talking about Icelanders in general, now). But, why sniff when you can taste, right? I hopped in.

The water is packed with all kinds of minerals. Having studied philosophy in college, I really could give a shit about geological minutiae; I’m not into details. But, I do understand that the minerals in the lagoon are supposed to be good for your skin. It felt nice, so I agree with the experts.

The black volcanic rock sand at the bottom of the lagoon was wild– to see and touch. The water is so blue tat you can’t see the bottom. I learned about the sand only because I grabbed a fistful. I was just curious; I wanted to know what was under my feet.

Further out in the lagoon, the texture of the bottom became different, slimy. Instead of volcanic sand, it’s some kind of silica mud. This same mud is offered in buckets around the lagoon. You’re supposed to smear it on your face and wait five to 10 minutes. I guess people are more likely to smear bucket mud on their faces than bottom mud. I chose bucket mud– twice. After a while, it tingles, even burns a little.

The water is advertised to be warm. I guess this is true, but “warm” varies. Remember, it’s around 55 degrees above the water. Some spots are mild, others hot and still others are pipin’. I like my water scalding. There were a few pockets that worked, but they would shift after a while.

It’s a strange feeling to be hot until you stand. Above the water, the air was chilly. Repeated blasts of wind added intensity to the cold and made small waves in the lagoon. It rained a little, and the gusts mixed rain with water picked up from the surface to shove in my face. But, from the neck down, it was perfect. I learned to walk in something of a squat. Thus, I could move around the lagoon without getting cold … until it occurred to me to swim. To make the common sense breach worse, I used to be a competitive swimmer. I worked as a lifeguard in high school and college. So, why would it occur to me to move around in water by swimming? Duh …

As the Blue Lagoon became crowded, I saw the funniest scene in Iceland. Hundreds of people were navigating the waters with only their heads above water. Bodiless heads seemed to float around as if powered by will alone. It was absolutely hilarious.

I was one of those heads.

Leaving the water was a problem. consider the situation. You’re enjoying the warm embrace of the Blue Lagoon. You watch someone stand. Then, he climbs the stars at a run and darts straight to the door. The first time I left the water, I was one of these morons. It sucked. The second time, though, I found a better approach. Inside the door is a small thermal pool. It has a door to the outdoor water, so you can enter and exit the building through the water. It isn’t as warm as the water outside, but it allows a smoother transition.

Posted in Reykjavik | Tagged: , , , , | 1 Comment »

More Pictures of Reykjavik

Posted by migrantblogger on August 17, 2008

This is the oldest house in Reykjavik.

Iceland’s parliament– the asshole at the lower left took forever photographing individual flowers, and I couldn’t get a shot without him in it. I called him a prick, and he didn’t respond. So, now he gets to be humiliated on a global scale. From all eight of my readers, “Screw you!”

Reykjavik’s answer to Philips Andover.

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Who Has the Best Hotdog? Reykjavik Not So Bad

Posted by migrantblogger on August 17, 2008

I never thought I’d write about this outside the United States. Aside from my hitch in South Korea in 1997-8, I’ve never thought about hot dogs outside my native land– not even in Canada! Yet, I stood in a short line (considered long by local standards) for the best hot dog in Reykjavik. I was assured that it’s the best in the country. But, in a nation of 300,000 inhabitants, that’s hardly a major score. With my first day in Iceland behind me, it’s time to play “taste test” from memory.

I don’t know what the name of the place is, but I hope the attached photo somehow contains it. Fortunately, the people who work there do speak English, so I didn’t have to raise my voice (which somehow makes non-English speakers fluent … it’s an American thing). I ordered two hot dogs with mustard and crossed my fingers.

I was not pleased with what I saw. I was given two boiled hot dogs (or steamed, whatever) in untoasted, unbuttered hot dog rolls. The rolls would not normally be a problem, but the dogs have to be pretty amazing if you’re not going to dress it up like that. With boiled hot dogs, you’re not likely to get the best taste. So, the combination of unadorned role and boiled dog had me concerned. But, I kept an open mind.

My first bite surprised me. The hot dog itself was good. I’d put it ahead of the average dirty-water stand in Manhattan, but it does not keep pace with the likes of Gray’s Papaya. The hot dog tasted like the many Oscar Mayer’s I had eaten as a kid.

The mustard? That was a different story. Amazing. It is hard to describe what exactly decorated my dog, but I assure you, I entered a new dog dining dimension. Somehow, there was a slight taste of cheese, and it had to come from the mustard. Specifically, it tasted like the cheese that one would find artificially squeezed into an Oscar Mayer cheesedog. Well, it was like that but tasted much better. The entire dynamic worked. I checked the middle of the hot dog, and it was not infused with cheese. Clearly, it wasn’t coming out of the roll. So, the mustard had to be responsible. Wherever the hell it came from, I was pretty happy. I may return to this spot before I leave Iceland.

While this hotdog was a pleasant surprise and could be the best in the country, it does not compare to the expertly prepared hotdogs I have eaten elsewhere. Popo’s of Swamscott, MA remains the best I’ve ever had– without any serious competition from the rest of the world. After Popo’s, I’d give a nod to Gray’s Papaya (on W 72nd St). I have fond memories of the pushcart that used to park in front of the Gaslight restaurant in Portsmouth, NH, but I don’t know if it even exists any longer. Also, “Ajumma’s Slaw Dogs”– at least, that’s what we called it– was great on many a beer-stained night when I was stationed in Korea. But, that was a decade ago, and I was loaded (likewise in Portsmouth). So, I really have no idea how good they were.

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Keep Your Cool: Reykjavik Real Estate Poised to Plummet

Posted by migrantblogger on August 17, 2008

In Reykjavik’s oldest neighborhood, our tour guide pointed to a house and announced the selling price. For approximately US$1 million, he said, an one of us could own the three-story, single-family structure. By Reykjavik standards, it was quite large– likewise from the point of view of a New Yorker. “Wait a while, though,” he half-joked, “prices are coming down.” The tour guide returned to this theme throughout the tour, and apparently, it is no laughing matter. Iceland’s capital city is on the brink of a real estate bust, and there appears to be no resolution in sight.

[I would include my tour guide's name, but I could barely understand it, given the local accent. So, he remains anonymous. But, I do recommend his tours, http://www.goecco.com.]

After the collapse of the subprime mortgage market in 2007, the notion of declining home values became quite real in the United States. Mortgages appear to be the underlying cause in the Icelandic real estate market, as well. In Reykjavik, it seems, there is no such thing as cheap money. The interest rate on the loan itself is not frightening. Right now, mortgage rates in Iceland are hovering around 7 percent. Unfortunately, Icelanders are also saddled with the bill for inflation, which my guide says is currently 12.3 percent.

Put simply, “your buying a house with a credit card,” according to my man-on-the-ground. Mortgage rate plus inflation brings the borrower’s interest rate quite close to 20 percent.

While interest rates at such high levels should stabilize housing prices, it seems that “new wealth” has been fueling home appreciation in Reykjavik. Is it outside money, like the Europeans and Arabs quickly blamed by New Yorkers for their own skyrocketing home prices? According to the guide, Icelanders have no scapegoats but themselves.

Unlike New Yorkers, though, Icelanders actually do expect to see prices decline substantially. My guide claims that the national bank has predicted a 30 percent drop in prices, though his forecast is closer to 50 percent. He saw the same dynamic in Copenhagen Denmark in 1988 and says that home prices plummeted by 70 percent.

The moral of the story for those of us outside Iceland is clear. Wait for the bargains! Skip the Hamptons, and pick up a vacation home in Reykjavik. Just wait a few years before writing the check. If possible, pay cash.

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Magical midgets make mayhem!

Posted by migrantblogger on August 17, 2008

According to Icelandic legend, this country is crawling with elves, dwarves and other fantastic creatures. What does this mean? Midgets wield magical powers in every corner of this middle-of-nowhere country. I have not seen any yet, but I’ll keep you posted.

I went on a walking tour of Central Reykjavik today. The tour guide– who also does the elves and dwarves walking tour– showed us a very special rock (see photo). Apparently, dwarves and such live in, under and around this rock. I was excited, as I thought I could check one item off on my scavenger hunt list (CJ knows what I’m talking about). But, no such luck.

So, here’s a midget-less rock.

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