Skógafoss, Seljalandsfoss, and Hvolsvöllur (Iceland)

The next stops on our parade of Iceland’s ever beautiful waterfalls were Skógafoss and Seljalandsfoss, both ~ 60 m high. Skógafoss is a sheer drop off onto a flat volcanic bed framed perfectly in an idealized version of a rainbow. The extra fluffy sheep grazing in the surrounding paddocks didn’t seem to take much notice of it though. Seljalandsfoss cascades over a wide ledge in a curtain you can actually walk behind. When the wind picks up, the resulting spray makes for a pretty chilly shock.

After a long day, we relaxed at a farmstay in the tiny village of Hvolsvöllur. A couple of sheepdogs ran up eagerly to check us out. Shaggy Icelandic horses (a special breed with a couple of gaits different from normal horses) munched contentedly in the pasture. The sheds were covered with turf, and a propeller plane rested in a nearby field. Clouds moving in made our chances of seeing the northern lights unlikely, but the owner was friendly and chatty. He was enthusiastic over the local pizzeria and what must've seemed an exotic delicacy to him - jalapeño poppers! His recommendation was spot on... although Rich had reached his limit for daring for the day and stubbornly opted out of any combination with bananas as a pizza topping.

Sólheimajökull (Iceland)

We were deeply disappointed when our heli-hike onto Franz Josef got aborted at the last minute due to developing poor conditions in New Zealand. So when I started looking into glacier hikes in Iceland, with its notoriously unpredictable weather, the foremost question I had for the tour operator was: what's the cancellation policy? The reaction I got was at first a little perplexed, and then slightly amused. She assured me that the trip is a go, like 98% of the time, summer or winter. At which point I realized I had just underestimated the Icelanders' ability to deal with... the ice.

About 2.5 hours south and east of Reykjavík lies Sólheimajökull. It is one of the glacier tongues of the larger ice cap covering the volcano Katla. Truly, one wonders if George R.R. Martin was thinking of Iceland when he came up with the phrase "A Song of Fire and Ice" ...and they do film Game of Thrones in the country. The landscape was full of postcard-like beauty. Underneath blue skies, the dark moraine deposited by the retreating glacier contrasted with the green, moss-covered ridges of the valley. The view was reflected perfectly in the still clarity of the lagoon formed from the melt waters.

We donned a very unflattering ensemble of safety gear - nothing like a climbing harness on top of snow pants to really make one's bottom look huge - to get onto the ice. It was my first time in crampons, and after a brief tutorial and a little practice, I was surprised at how secure the spiky additions to my boots made me feel on the treacherous ground. Maybe I should be wearing them all the time in the mountains! ...even if the wide stance and deliberate, lurching steps you adopt recall a knight in armor or a cowboy in spurs. We covered quite a bit of ground and altitude in them.

On top of the ice, the science of the place made it fascinating besides beautiful. Fairy light snowflakes compacted over hundreds and thousands of years to form the ice below us, the air forced out by the compression creating the strange blue ice color. Black volcanic cones and little peaks appear at intervals on the ice layer. These "witch hats" were created by a hole or depression with a tiny stone or fragment in the bottom. Over centuries, the little blockage diverted the flow of melt waters around it until nothing but compacted ash below it is left in a roughly conical shape. There was also evidence of man-made experiments on the ice. A couple of skeletal structures were set up as markers on the ice, where researchers could survey and measure the movement and conditions of the glacier. Sólheimajökull is retreating so rapidly (gee, thanks, global warming, you shouldn't have!) that you can actually watch it in time-lapse photography in the critically-acclaimed documentary Chasing Ice.

Another aspect of geology contributed to the sense of adventure on the hike. On this island where nature regularly trounces man, just as we were getting comfortable on the ice, we were reminded of our proximity to Eyjafjallajökull. Maybe that name rings a bell? (Probably not because Icelandic words are a jumble in your head and a gargle in your mouth.) Eyja was that volcano that erupted in 2010 whose devastation increased when the ash clouds got into the atmosphere and halted most of the air traffic to/from Europe for several weeks. On Sólheimajökull, it's the volcano next door. And Katla, on whose ice cap we were linked, is an even bigger volcano. Which historically erupts a few years after Eyja. On an order of several magnitudes greater. And one of the most likely routes of flash flooding (from the eruption liquefying the ice cap above it) was the glacier we were standing on! So... do you feel lucky, punk?

If that didn't give us enough of a thrill, we also took the opportunity to try out ice climbing. I still really love the idea of climbing, although in practice (indoors, on rock, in canyons, etc.), I am terrible at it. They showed us how to plant our feet (widely, with a hard kick to set the crampon into the ice) and how to use our ice axes (squared up, swinging for an existing depression or ledge to plant it). While my attempt was straight out of one of those "You're Doing It Wrong" articles, and my aching shoulders - bad technique - forced me to quit half the way up, I am married to a monkey. Rich was the first man up to the top! I was consoled by my successful, smooth rappel/abseil down. It's only taken me 4 or 5 times to get that trick. Woohoo!

Hveragerði, Skáholt, Geysir, Þingvellir, and Gullfoss (Iceland)

The grand tourist must-do in Iceland is the Golden Circle, hitting up the country's top three in a day or less. You can do it on your own, but after the last couple of self-drive holidays, we realized we enjoy looking at the scenery more than worrying about directions, the next gas station, breaking down on the side of the road, etc. Plus any guidebook or website will tell you it's suicide to drive out into the countryside in the winter (and yes, mid-October is winter in Iceland) with anything less than a Super Jeep, a monster truck version of 4 wheel-drive. So we joined the masses on the migration, but thankfully, in a smaller group than the crowded coach bus packages.

Our first stop was an extra, Hveragerði (sounds not unlike "hurdy gurdy"), one of the hottest geothermal sites in Iceland. The small town has capitalized on the energy, using it to build greenhouses and supplying the country with much needed fresh produce. There are the downsides, too. The guide told us about a family who awoke to find a new hot spring emerge from their living room floor, and the tiny shopping mall has a sad exhibit about the damage caused by the last severe earthquake.

Vatnsleysufoss (aka Faxi) and Skálholt were more extras. The former was our first view of one of the magnificent waterfalls Iceland seems to have in abundance, and the latter was an important religious center/church for hundreds of years and site of the first official school. I was more intrigued by the curious constructions on the side of the waterfall (fish steps to help salmon swimming upstream!) and under the church (patterns of carefully lain turf in the tunnel!).

The Haukadalur valley is home to active hot springs, including Geysir, as in the original source of the word geyser. While it's no longer active, the nearby Strokkur, erupting every 5 minutes or so with a peak height of 40 m (~ 131 ft), gives viewers the satisfying money shot they're looking for.

Our visit to the Bosphorus in Turkey let us take a ferry between continents (Europe and Asia), and our trip to Þingvellir National Park in Iceland ("Þ" is pronounced "th") allowed us to do the land version. The ridge between the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates presents interesting views with stark rock cliffs and seams of crystal clear water running though green plains. The location has great historical significance in Iceland as well, being the site of parliament for 800 years, and is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Our final stop and crown jewel in the Golden Circle was Gullfoss. Two tiers of the mighty Hvítá River plummet into what appears to be a crack in the earth. Walking further up the trail (named for Sigríður Tómasdóttir, who campaigned against using the waterfall for hydroelectricity) reveals the curious perpendicular crevice, a field of strange ice crystals forming on the opposite edge, and the thundering waters rushing out into canyon below. We've seen a fair few waterfalls in our travels, and this one gets best in show for eliciting that primal feeling, "BEHOLD! THE AWESOME POWER OF NATURE!" 

Keflavík and Reykjavík (Iceland)

Iceland has had an appeal for some time. Maybe it was passing up on the ridiculous deal Icelandair was doing in college ($300 roundtrip flight + tickets to the Airwaves Music Festival). Maybe it was the PBS show where a traveling Scandinavian chef cooks a gourmet meal in the equivalent of a geothermal puddle. Maybe it was the breathtaking landscapes depicted in a mountain biking magazine. It looked a bit like New Zealand and used to be owned by Denmark - both places we adored. So we headed off to the land of Björk, Sigur Rós, and Of Monsters and Men...

The airport in Keflavík is still quite a ways from the capital Reykjavík. A popular option for coming or going is a stopover at the famous Blue Lagoon. A geothermal power plant was erected in 1976, and shortly thereafter, people found that bathing in the surrounding pools of waste water had healing powers. Something like 70% of all visitors to Iceland come to luxuriate in the 37 - 39C (98 - 102 F) lagoon. Luckily, we arrived just as it opened and could enjoy the setting in an almost eerie quiet for the first hour. The contrast of the black lava fields, milky blue water, and mists of rising steam make for an otherworldly sight. There is a cave-like sauna with condensation dripping off the volcanic rock ceiling and a Turkish-style steam bath. You can scoop out the silica mud for do-it-yourself facials from wooden crates around the lagoon, or should your tastes run towards the professional, one of the pools is cordoned off for massages and other spa treatments. The whole experience, though costly even by Icelandic standards, has got to be the best way to unwind from an overnight flight in economy and get over your jet lag!  

Final Thoughts on Barcelona, Part II (Spain)

I like lists so without further ado...

Things we do not miss about Barcelona:

- High cost of living + low (and unstable) wages. Most people in major cities feel this pinch, but “El Crisis” surely puts this into a whole other category. In consulting, contracts that were ending were not getting renewed, and at the university, every couple months seemed to bring further pay cuts or more layoffs. Money was pretty tight for our tiny, sixth floor walk-up apartment, not to mention the obligatory surcharges we got for being suspicious foreigners. Try also wrapping your head around numbers like 25% overall unemployment in Spain and over 50% for younger folks. Most of the lucky  survive either with as many flatmates as they can find or staying much longer with their parents - a cultural norm turned absolute necessity. We suspected this culture of strong family ties (as well as the social support structure) was the main reason you didn't see as much anarchy in the streets you'd expect anywhere else with those kinds of stats.

- Difficulty level of just doing things. Bureaucracy always sucks. Trying to get any business or anything official done requires multiple trips, multiple offices, and multiple copies… and Spaniards/Catalans fiercely guard photocopier/printer usage. Only brought 1 copy? Even if there is a copier right on the desk of the clerk speaking to you, you will need to: leave the line, possibly even exit the building, find a print shop around the corner, pay for extra copies, and join the queue you've been waiting in all morning at the end with a new number... and most of the government offices/banks close for lunch and will not reopen again.

-Alienation. A common complaint for expats. Catalans have a reputation for being a little closed. When someone still referred to her colleague Señor so-and-so after working together everyday for 40 years,  you realize learning Catalan is only one of the barriers to face socially. It was our own fault, too. Many expats get around the isolation by clinging to others of their home country, but we didn't move to Barcelona to stay in all-Brit or all-American enclaves and so avoided them assiduously. The city's got a fantastic nightlife, too, so doubtless, we could have made more friends had not our hard partying, late night clubbing days been behind us. Lastly, people don't often invite others into their homes either so it can be tough socializing on a strict budget.


Things we miss about Barcelona:

- The city. I personally think it's the most beautiful city in Europe, possibly the world. We've always been drawn to bright colors, mosaics, and wrought ironwork, and Catalan Modernisme brings these elements together in intricate detail and with the finest craftsmanship. These architectural gems are sprinkled all over so that walking around Barcelona feels like visiting an open air art gallery. Should these man-made creations not stir or inspire you, the city is book-ended by the sea and mountains. Even though we're always a little too ADD for sun-bathing, our regular strolls along the beach and port (25 minute walk from our door) were weekend favorites. The pleasant alternative was hiking in Parc de Collserola, where a scant 15 minutes on the commuter train would bring you to the trail head on the mountain.

- The neighborhood. Even though Barcelona is a big city, you feel like you live in a little village within it. We lived in the barrio of Sant Pere, or as Rich first described the narrow streets and old buildings, "like in The Bourne Identity." We got to know the people in our neighborhood - our bread guys, the super nice vet, the pet store lady, the bodega man, all the dog owners in the park, the man from the theatre, etc. - at least in a friendly nodding and chitchat way.

- The weather. Barcelona is almost always sunny with something like 300 days/year. The perfect blue skies made hanging the laundry out to dry off our balcony my favorite chore. While it can get unbearable in the summers, the temperature can also be mild in the winters. We sat drinking coffees outside one day in February in t-shirts. Beware though that too much of this makes one's sense of bad weather get grossly out of whack. Any day it rains in the city (usually about two weeks total in the spring) is the equivalent of a blizzard hitting the Midwest. Classes get cancelled, traffic gets ridiculous, and people come into work late, or not at all.

- The food. There is the obvious. Michelin stars have been awarded to quite a few Catalan chefs, and while we never got into the world's best restaurant El Bulli, we had the best meal of our lives at Cinc Sentits. But even beyond that, we miss even the basics. What Spain may lack in variety, they make up for in freshness and quality of ingredients. A pair of tea-drinkers really miss the excellent and cheap coffee. Ah, the perfection of the cortado (1 shot of espresso: 1 warm milk) mid-morning or after a meal! Then there is the unifying lament of every European moving to the U.S.- the bread. For less than a euro, we picked up our crusty barra natural (like a baguette but wider) newly baked everyday. Even the cheap cheese for our sandwiches was fancy - the generic store brand was still a mild blend of cow, sheep, and goat's milk. In the U.S., everyone's big on eating local or with the seasons. As a concept, this might seem strange in Spain since it's just how people have always eaten. My favorite seasons were  clementine/satsuma (I had to stop a 4/day habit because my stomach acids were churning), strawberry, fig, wild mushroom, chestnut, and jamón (ok, the last one isn't quite but most people buy one around the holidays). It helps that the country grows much of the produce for the rest of Europe. Still, it never ceased to amaze me how much more affordable fruits and vegetables are there. I could go into the greengrocer and come out with a stuffed shopping bag for less than 5 euros! For one thing, within the stores, produce appears to be graded (and priced) at different levels, ranging from the cosmetically perfect apple Americans have come to expect down to sad-looking apple that got a little beat up in transit but is still edible inside and probably half the price. But I digress. Oh, the seafood! the butchers! the 3 course menu del días that are 10 euros! the sausages! the cava! I could go on and on...


All in all, while there are a few other things we don't miss about our lives in Barcelona, there are many more we are nostalgic for. It was a great and rewarding experience to live there and absolutely the best decision for us. Though we're calling this post "Final Thoughts...," we can hope that we haven't seen the last of Barcelona.