Iceland #10 - Day 1: Playing Tour Guide on the Reykjanes Peninsula

My tenth trip to Iceland was slightly different from my usual trips - I was actually going with other people! Having seen endless of my photos of the place, my friends Scott and Bryon were keen to visit, so I managed to organise a trip combining three days with them (and my hubby Murray) doing the usual tourist stuff - and a bit more - before I headed off east to do photography stuff on my own. Being tour guide put a little pressure on me, and I desperately wanted everything to go well, a lot of which was dependent on the weather. The forecast was good, as was the outlook for the northern lights, but I know better than to trust either...

We flew in late on a Wednesday night. I managed to see some northern lights from my spot in the middle of the plane, but the boys sat behind and the light from the wing made it harder to see. I sat next to a lovely couple and gave them some recommendations for their trip. We stayed at the airport hotel, meaning that a trip to the Blue Lagoon the following day was easy. We had a couple of Icelandic beers in our room before a relatively early night.

First stop the next day was a tour around the Reykjanes Peninsula - unfortunately I'd booked tickets to the Blue Lagoon too late to get morning tickets, and had booked for 1pm, so decided on a drive around the Peninsula to kill some time (and there's some nice scenery to see). The weather was glorious as I picked up the rental car (a Suzuki Vitara again) from Procar and set off towards Garður to show the boys the cool lighthouses. The light was wonderful intermittently, as the sun came out and disappeared again. As soon as we set off Murray checked out the car's music equipment and we ascertained that there was nowhere for me to plug in my iPod. I felt panicky and couldn't imagine another Icelandic road-trip without my own music. After having had one such trip, desperately searching for music that wasn't Katy Perry or Adele (sorry, I just don't like her!), or crackly Icelandic talking on Bygljan, I knew I couldn't bear another. After visiting the lighthouses I stopped back at the car-hire place, explained that I couldn't possibly survive a week on my own without my own music and they gladly swapped the car for another Vitara (a later model and the same type as the previous one I'd hired from them, with a reversing camera and most importantly a USB port for my iPod). I'd be able to sing along (and cry) to David Bowie songs on my own after all.

Panic out of the way, we headed along the road towards Reykjavík, turning off south after a while towards Kleifarvatn. The tarmac road ran out and the slightly-potholed gravelled surface soon became snowy as we headed uphill towards the lake. The sun was intense, reflecting on the snow and ice making visibility a little challenging from time to time (actually I couldn't see a thing!) - especially when approaching a blindhæd (blind rise). We arrived at an overlook above the lake, which was completely frozen, and got out to take a few photos. Iceland looked lovely: the sun was shining, it wasn't that cold and there was no wind. The boys were impressed; it was going well.

We continued on and I pulled in at Seltún, which I'd visited a few years earlier on a miserably grey day and hadn't been massively impressed with. It was the same as I'd remembered, but looked better with a bit of snow and sunshine, which was becoming more hazy as the morning went on. Pools bubbled away and steam hissed or seeped out of yellow and orange crusty, sulphurous vents.

Time was ticking on and so we headed on south and drove west along the coast for a while along an empty stretch of road, before heading north again at Grindavík. The Blue Lagoon (Bláa lónið) was a short drive outside the town, along a road winding through the lava field. The steam from the plant was hidden by a large hill, but eventually it loomed into view, together with the cranes above the lagoon, as they're building a new hotel there. The car-park was packed, as expected, and we walked along a lava-sided pathway before arriving at the entrance, where we joined the end of a massive queue. It moved pretty quickly and we were soon at the counter, getting a wristband that acted as a locker key and tab for any expenditure while we were there (eg. drinks at the bar). We went off to our separate changing rooms, figured out how to use the lockers, showered (I'd read that you had to shower nude before entering the lagoon, but there's not exactly anyone there making you do so, and they do have private shower cubicles for the shy), and then headed out in the freezing cold air before plunging into the steamy water. As instructed I'd lathered my hair with conditioner and had it up in a clip - apparently if it touches the water and isn't conditioned it ends up like straw; my hair is already pretty straw-like, so I didn't need it to get any worse.

The lagoon was pretty packed, but not horribly so. I'd visited on my first trip to Iceland back in October 2002 with a friend and we'd more-or-less had the place almost to ourselves (there weren't many off-season visitors to Iceland back in 2002, unlike today...). We'd visited on a cold, wet, stormy night, but I remembered how lovely it was once you were in, as it was today.

We waded through the warm green water (it wasn't blue without sun, which was now hidden behind overcast clouds), steam blowing across the surface, and headed to the face mask bar. Occasionally we would walk through a hot patch and someone would make a joke about it being where someone had just peed. Nice! An English guy was working there, advising us on how long to leave the white cleansing mask on for (10 minutes); the hard white sludge was kept in buckets and you could apply it liberally. We then waded across to the drinks bar, on the other side of the lagoon, and got our first drink (included in the €55 package) - I had a miniature bottle of Prosecco, the boys had pints of Gull lager. It was a strange experience, to be standing in lovely warm water, holding plastic glasses of booze, faces covered with a white mask of sulphurous mud (or whatever it is). I don't think there had been an outdoor bar the previous time I'd visited.

We wandered around a bit, washed off the first mask, then returned to get the green moisturising mask (this was kept behind the counter and you were only given a small amount). Once it was ready to wash off, 15 minutes later, we went into the steam room for a short while. I always get really bored in steam rooms or saunas and only lasted about 5 minutes, heading back into the warm water with Bryon. The others eventually came out and we headed back to the bar. As I was driving later I then had a delicious blueberry Skyr smoothie; the boys had another weak beer. We then headed away from the crowds, under one of the bridges (there was a security guard in hi-viz jacket on the top of each bridge) to an area with almost no-one. It actually felt quite peaceful and remote. Our fingers all resembled alien beings by now - wrinkled beyond recognition.

Eventually we headed inside to shower (rinsing out the conditioner to find my hair hadn't been ruined, thankfully), and got dressed (I went into the wrong changing-room and couldn't get my bearings - had to go upstairs to find my locker). We then sat and had a sandwich in the café at the side of the lagoon (indoors) and relaxed for a while. We took our cameras outside to capture a few shots of the place. I bumped into the couple from the plane - it's a small tourist circuit, obviously. Then we headed off towards Álftanes, where Sigrún and Johannes were expecting us for coffee and waffles at 5pm. It hadn't been a cheap way to spend an afternoon, but we all thoroughly enjoyed our visit - you can't really visit Iceland without going there.

We arrived in Álftanes a little early, and Sigrún was busy in the kitchen glazing a banana cake and finishing off the waffle mixture. She'd put on a massive spread for us, and it was great for the boys to see inside an Icelandic family home (especially one with such delicious treats and coffee on offer!). Murray and I unpacked the goodies we'd ordered on Amazon at half the price they would've paid for the same things in Iceland, and I picked up their tripod, Aeropress and massive mug, which I'd also borrowed on the previous trip. I was very exctied to meet a new addition to their family - an absolutely adorable 4-month-old grey stripey kitten, Jökull (which means glacier). I'm not sure I've ever been so smitten by a cat or kitten before. He was so affectionate and beautiful and won everyone's hearts by curling up in an open drawer of tea-towels. Their daughter was clearly also smitten too.

Once we were totally stuffed we headed off into the centre of Reykjavík, where I'd booked us a 2-bed apartment near the centre of the town. We stopped off for me to do my "weekly shop" for my trip after they had gone, at a nearby Hagkaup store. We arrived easily, but then got caught in the one-way system - if you've ever driven in central Reykjavík you'll know that this isn't an easy predicament to find yourself in. We'd found the apartment but couldn't find anywhere to park, so wanted to just drive round the block to get back to the front of the building. This was easier said than done, and it took us about ten minutes to get back there. In the end, we got back and then had to drive round to another street behind the house that we'd passed at least twice, where we were able to park off-road in a private parking space and unload the car. The Ambassade Apartments were in an old traditional Icelandic building, and had recently been converted into apartments, and were stunning. The man who managed the property was extremely friendly and showed us around the well-equipped and beautifully decorated place. The only downside was that there was a shelving unit holding the TV and some glasses that had a couple of sharp corners protruding - it was only a matter of time before one of us bashed into them...

Sigrún had recommended (and booked) a restaurant for us in the city centre (Grillmarkaðurinn) and we had a couple of drinks at home before heading down there (in spite of the apartment appearing to have everything, we couldn't find any water glasses - despite each of us looking through every single cupboard (and the dishwasher, the oven, the microwave, etc.) three times each! - beer was drunk out of wine glasses, which were easy to find). The restaurant was an excellent recommendation - both a very cool space and delicious food. Between us we ordered a couple of meat platters, a fish platter and Scott ordered the langoustine tails, which quite frankly were one of the most delicious things any of us had ever eaten! The food was washed down by a couple of Borg beers (I was in heaven).

After dinner we headed to the Micro Bar, one of the three recommended craft beer bars. We met a rather drunk young Scottish lad called Jimmy who was on holiday with his parents and was rather smitten with Murray's mysterious accent. I tried a couple of delicious porters and stouts which were on tap (my favourite tipple at the moment), before we headed to the Skuli bar, which had opened recently, with rave reviews. It was a Thursday night and it closed at 11pm, just as we arrived, so we continued on the Mikkeller bar, a great little spot spread over the top floor of an old building above a pizza restaurant. They were open a while and we tried a couple more Icelandic beers there before heading home. We had a little nightcap before going to bed, with my suggestion of Jägermeister and milk not going down too well (if you didn't know what it was I think it would have been quite nice). Just before going to sleep I went out of the room to look for a phone charger and was the one to take a big tumble after catching my foot against the protruding corner. Usually I fall over or bash into an iceberg on these trips which results in a bruise or two, but this time I had a small gash on my arm and two large bruises on my knees to show for it - an identified and very annoying drunken injury.

Click here for blog from Day 2: Tour Guide around the Golden Circle

A Weekend in Bruges

Five years ago my husband and I first went to Belgium together on the Eurostar for a long weekend. Our first destination was the extremely quaint town of Bruges. A year later I won a trip to Ghent, and since then our trips to Belgium became something of a tradition, visiting Antwerp and Brussels too - our appreciation of Belgium's beer scene might have had something to do with it.... We didn't make it over there last summer for various reasons, but when I saw an offer for cheap train tickets in January I grabbed the chance to return. We decided to start over again, revisiting Bruges just before Easter.


Unlike on our first trip, on a beautiful hot sunny weekend in June 2010, the weather was disappointingly mixed. We were lucky to get fine weather upon our arrival and for the rest of the first day (thankfully I'd booked an early train so we had enough time to enjoy it), but Saturday was grey and later drizzly and on Sunday it pissed down with rain all day.

The walk from the station to our B&B took us along some canals - I'd forgotten just quite how cute the place is! The canals were swarming with tourists crammed in little boats.

After checking in at our beautiful B&B (Huis Willaeys) we had a disappointing lunch in a lovely spot alongside a canal round the corner, sitting in the sun with blankets over our legs. We had the first of many Belgian beers - mine a horribly strong but delicious one at 11 percent (the strength not displayed on the menu!). I took advantage of the fast-moving clouds in the sky by taking a few long exposure shots using the Tiffen 10-stop Apex filter as we waited for them to get my order right (third time lucky).

One of the highlights on the previous trip had been renting bikes and cycling along the canals past Damme and up to the coast; I was keen to do part of that journey again, so after lunch we headed into town to find the bike rental place on the far side of the Markt square. I hadn't been on a bike for a few years and felt a little nervous cycling along the cobbled roads towards the canal that led to Damme, but soon got back in the swing of it (and sobered up).

In no time we had crossed the nasty junction of roads and canals and were cycling under avenues of tall leafless trees along the canal. It was surprisingly quiet, with just a few serious cyclists passing us, going about 5 times the speed; presumably the energetic tourists would flock there the following day.

I wanted to recreate a photo I'd taken on a point-and-shoot camera on the previous trip, of the trees converging in the distance and reflected perfectly in the canal, taken from a bridge just past Damme. I found the same spot, but the water wasn't very reflective and without leaves the trees didn't look very exciting - I wasn't going to get a shot with the same oomph this time!

In the other direction was a pretty curved stretch of the canal. A few ducks and grebes paddled around.

We cycled back towards Damme and I pulled off to the side of the track when I reached a short mirror-like stretch of water, with the crooked trees reflected below. I'd been carrying my mini tripod, so put it to use at the edge of the canal with the wide-angle lens. The trees are taller than they look, so I tried to include a car speeding past to give a sense of scale.

When we reached Damme we stopped at a café at the side of the canal to enjoy a beer, served with a small bowl of cubed cheese. When the people next to us ordered a sugar pancake we had to do the same - it was delicious!

We'd only rented the bikes for 4 hours, so eventually had to head back, sensible given that I wouldn't have been able to cycle after more than one strong Belgian beer! I stopped a few times to capture the pretty windmill and a few more shots of the lines of trees disappearing into the distance.

We got back to the big junction and cycled back the same way along the canal into town past beautiful stepped-roof houses and bridges that were illuminated by the last throes of the afternoon sun.

We dropped off the bikes and headed for the De Garre bar, hidden down a tiny alleyway between Markt and Burg squares. We missed it on the first attempt, but found it on the map on my iPhone - the entrance to the alleyway is extremely narrow.

Feeling a little exhausted after our early start we didn't manage to try many different beers. After one beer at De Garre we wandered around trying to find a place to eat, but everywhere seemed to be booked. We eventually found an okay restaurant with one of two of the main dishes good and the other disappointing. We tried the white asparagus that was in season to start, washed down with a raspberry lambic beer. We headed back home as I was falling asleep at the table, but after a short rest I forced myself to get a second wind and we went back out for a couple more beers at De Kelk, one of the recommended beer bars, just down the road from the B&B.

We woke up in the morning to pale grey overcast skies and a light drizzle - the view of Bruges from our window wasn't quite as lovely. After a delicious breakfast (with the best home-made raspberry jam ever!) in the cavernous kitchen we headed out along the canals towards the Markt square. I stopped to photograph a couple of people taking selfies with selfie sticks - a practice I find utterly ridiculous! Even without the stick people look ludicrous taking selfies.

We joined the long queue to go up the Belfort tower, where I was hoping for some good views across the city's rooftops. The queue took over half an hour, as they limit it to 70 people inside at any one time, which is definitely a good thing. We finally paid our €8 and trudged up the narrow staircases, stopping from time to time for people coming down to squeeze by, thankful for the rest. There were a few rooms on the way up, so the ascent was broken up into more manageable chunks. At the top it was crowded and extremely windy, and I was very disappointed to see that since our previous visit they'd put up even more netting, so it was very difficult to get a decent shot with a proper lens without a blurred black line of wire in the way. I attempted to get a few shots, and managed one or two with the camera held high above my head and the lens pointed downwards to get a higher view. I guess the extra netting was there to prevent people throwing things off, but they could've made the gaps just a little larger and more photographer-friendly. I certainly wouldn't recommend any photographers paying the €8 to go up there; there must be better rooftops in the city with unencumbered views.

When we got down from the tower we walked out along the canal we'd cycled along the previous day, towards the "ring" canal that encircles the city. The sun came out for a brief moment, but otherwise it was grey. We walked along the banks of the main canal past a few windmills.

We meandered along the cobbled streets back into town and began a bit of a Belgian beer bar crawl. On our way we stopped for waffles at one of the places in town and sheltered in the De Garre alleyway to eat them as it had started to rain slightly.

We then headed to Cambrinus, a popular beer bar and restaurant with an impressive beer selection which had been fully booked the previous evening. We tried a couple of new beers, but had to leave after two as the table was reserved for diners. We were charged for an extra beer each, which fortunately we noticed, but felt a little suspicious that it might have been done on purpose; the service had been erratic and the man didn't seem too surprised at the mistake on the bill.

Next stop was De Garre again, which was very full, so we sat at a table shared with two women, one from England and one from New Zealand. They talked incessantly and loudly but made no attempt to engage with us and the Kiwi's voice was grating after about five seconds, so we headed out after one beer. Our next bar was T' Brugs Beertje where we enjoyed a couple more delicious and not too strong beers (I was careful to avoid ordering anything as strong as the first one I'd had). We chatted briefly to a local man and his daughter who sat at the bar - Eric and Kim; she had a little undershot llasa apso dog on her lap. We also chatted to a friendly American couple on the table next to us who were touring the low countries.

We headed off just before 7.30pm as we'd made a reservation at a restaurant we'd visited on our previous visit, Den Huzaar, located on the other side of the main square. As we left the edge of my coat knocked an empty bottle and it smashed onto the floor - the effect of the beers was perhaps mounting up. We sat in the window and watched the world go by and had an okay meal, but it was slightly dominated by a pushy English girl talking very loudly to her newish, colleague boyfriend on the next table (we weren't having much luck with our neighbours). We were also charged for bottled water that never came (they didn't have tap water) - I was still on the ball enough to notice.

Next we tried another of the bars recommended by the Rate Beers website - Le Trappiste - but the only place we found to sit was next to a table of very drunk English people including an English woman who was even louder than either of the others we'd been forced to listen to earlier. I couldn't bear to have to listen to someone else's loud conversation, so we moved on without getting a drink and went to nearby Comptoir des Arts, another lower-ground-floor cavernous bar - but this time with a friendly and efficient bar-maid, lovely ambiance and no loud people nearby! After a couple of drinks there we headed home, at which point I realised that I was missing my small handbag, in which I kept my purse and had also placed my zoom lens in earlier. My day-pack with the camera itself and other lenses came back safely with me, but the other certainly didn't. We racked our brains trying to think when we'd last seen me with it, and decided it must've been at T' Brugs Beertje.  In my embarrassment about smashing the bottle I must've tried to leave quickly and not checked my seat to make sure I had everything, which I usually do. I looked up the number online and called them up and was relieved to hear that the little blue bag was there safely behind the bar. We headed back there, got reunited with the bag (nothing missing!) and took the opportunity to have one last beer (hubby had two and slipped the barman a nice little tip in exchange for the safe-keeping of my bag). If I'd only realised that it was missing the following morning it might've messed up our return journey home as the bar only opened at 4pm and our train was at 6pm, from Brussels...

We woke up late after our rather eventful and beery late night to heavy rain outside. Annoyingly we had to pay for the B&B in cash - which we hadn't been told earlier - so after breakfast I had to go out in the pouring rain to the nearest ATM that was in Markt square, a good 8 minutes walk away, (and incur another cash withdrawal fee). My jeans were pretty soaked by the time I got back, and we then headed back out in the rain towards the station, deciding that we'd sit out the rain somewhere in Brussels rather than doing any more sightseeing. The rain continued to pour and pour.

As the train pulled into Ghent hundreds of people boarded, on their way to an anti-austerity rally in Brussels. We got up to leave when we pulled in to Brussels Midi station, but no-one else was moving, and then realised that the train went on to Brussels Central station, so we got back on, saving us a twenty-minute walk in the rain. Fortunately I recognised one of the galerie arcades near the station, and knew that the lovely Mort Subite brasserie was at the far end of it, so we headed there.

On the table next to us was a party of nine Welshmen on a stag weekend. We chatted to a few of them and tried to introduce them to the gueuze beer but not surprisingly it was not to everyone's taste, so they ended up with the raspberry flavoured one instead. Some tales were told and songs in welsh were sung.

They eventually moved on, and we stopped for one last beer at the Hilton Hotel bar near the Central station as we needed to use their loo, before getting the train back to Midi station for our Eurostar home.

It was a real shame about the rain - in good weather Bruges really is delightful, but traipsing around the cobbled streets in the rain is just no fun. Maybe we'll stick to summer next time for our return trip to Ghent, which is next on the list to revisit. It was probably my favourite of the four, and a lot cheaper than Bruges (whose prices were definitely a good deal higher than 5 years earlier). Or maybe we'll try a new city, like Leuven.