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Saturday, October 5, 2019

Iceland Part I: Touchdown



We landed at the Keflavik airport tired and wired, ready to start this Icelandic adventure but lulled into an irritated malaise after a two hour wait for customs. Three very full flights had arrived within minutes of each other, clogging the tiny airport with a mob of tourists anxiously holding their passports open to the proper page. Two stoic and humorless customs agents were stamping as fast as they could.

Once outside the airport the cold wind slapped us into the realization we were now just below the Arctic Circle. The sun was low and very bright, something our bloodshot eyes weren't ready for since they were still under the impression it was 3am PST. After a little sleepless confusion, we found the Flybus (that had been sitting in front of us all along) and climbed aboard.

We had rented a 4x4 VW van from Cozy Campers for our two week adventure almost a year ago. After an extensive internet search, we decided they offered the vehicle closest to our needs: bedding, stove, cookware and utensils, heater and fridge, all packed in an all-wheel drive van with higher clearance for rough road driving. All this at an exorbitant Icelandic price that was right in line with all the other exorbitant Icelandic van rental places. What set them apart from the others was their offer to transport us from the airport to their shop, and also get us back to Reykjavik once we were finished with our trip. It was nice not to have to worry about arranging transportation after an all-night flight to a foreign country.

Now where is that bus? Oh yeah, we're sitting in it...



The bus trundled down the Reykjanes Peninsula on Highway 41, heading for the Reykjavik BSI (bus terminal). From there we were to catch a Hreyfill Taxi to the Cozy Camper headquarters a few kilometers away. Despite being a major tourist destination, Iceland's international airport is not located in its biggest city. Keflavik is an hour from Reykjavik, and virtually everyone needs to get to Reykjavik to start their vacation. Thus the bus ride with lots of company.


It was a pretty drive in the morning sun, views of small harbors, distant farmhouses and acres and acres of lava scrolled by as we stared out the windows. We were struck by how much this countryside looked like the lava fields of the Big Island of Hawaii. We passed an Ikea as we headed into the city, looking so familiar it seemed out of place. The bus arrived at the station and dropped us off with a bunch of other bleary-eyed passengers. We stood in the cold wind in the parking lot and looked around. The first thing that struck us was that Reykjavik, although the country's largest city, didn't seem that big. The main bus terminal is not much bigger than a small train station in the US or Europe. The second thing that occurred to us was we needed to pee, and we weren't sure just how long it would take to get to Cozy Campers.

We entered the terminal and found a row of seats with other confused passengers milling around. There was a bathroom in the corner, blocked by an automated gate. We had been warned by the guide books about this, but it still took us by surprise: in many places in Iceland you have to pay to play, so to speak. Luckily, there was a card reader to accept our (roughly) $1 each. We had stopped at an ATM for Icelandic Krona (ISK) before leaving the airport, but didn't have any change to feed the machine yet.

Feeling lighter and a bit more relaxed, we stepped out the door to the area devoted to shuttle buses and taxis. Here, we had our first lesson in the complexities of the ancient Icelandic dialect. We asked a shuttle bus driver if he could direct us to the Hreyfill taxis.

"Hray-Fill?" he looked at us like we were speaking some sort of inscrutable language. "I have never heard of this company."

I showed him the printout from Cozy Campers, where it clearly stated "Hreyfill".

"Oh!" Frayvitchl! Why didn't you say so? There's one right over there."

A shiny black Subaru was idling at the curb. In the front window, a Frayvitchl sign was glowing on the dash, only it was spelled "Hreyfill". The older gentleman got out and helped us load our luggage in the back.

"Where do you wish to go?"

"Cozy Campers please." We weren't even going to attempt the street name, so we handed him the printout with the address. "They said if we used your company they would pay for the ride."

"I hope they do." he mumbled under his breath. Mark and I exchanged looks, then shrugged. They were going to have to work it out, we were too tired to care.


(In the next post, we pick up the camper and are introduced to the fine art of food shopping in Iceland)

1 comment:

  1. Cool (not meant as a pun) vacation. Looking forward to the next installment. Have seen Iceland several times on International House Hunters. Nice place.

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