Reykjaik Rocks...

The airport seemed to be full of young people, adventurous young people with tons of outdoor gear and some serious hiking boots, and I felt a little old and out of place, until I reminded myself that my own luggage comprised serious riding boots, and my hat, and new chaps, gloves, thermals and waterproofs. 

I had also come to Iceland for an adventure.

The trip to Reykjavik was fun. You buy a ticket for the FlyBus from the booth near the exits and then wander out to the bus where a burly chap loads the luggage and a nice lady driver enquires where you are going. And then you set off, driving into the sunset, over lava fields, with tantalising glimpses of the seashore and little house lit up with Christmas lights, and snowy mountains in the distance, until you reach the city.

The driver will then tell those staying at city-centre guesthouses to get off and transfer to a minibus for the remainder of the journey, so it's all out with your luggage and into the minibus whose driver has a wicked sense of humour and calls each passenger he drops off his 'favourite new friend'. I was the last favourite new friend to be deposited at my guest house which would, in the past, have made me nervy and sitting on the edge of my seat, but I was in Iceland and I was taking things as they came.

The Sunna guesthouse is spotlessly clean and located right near the church whose spire towers over Reykjavik, which is excellent for a person such as me who has no sense of direction and can easily get lost in a large room. It's also an eco-guesthouse, committed to cutting down on waste and not over-using resources. My room was on the ground floor which, with that church nearby and a busy, busy road outside was noisy and that would, a few days ago, have had me scuttling to reception to ask to move somewhere quieter but, hey, Iceland, chill-out, no problem. I had earplugs.

And so to find somewhere to eat.

There's a place nearby called the Loki Cafe; in the evenings the upstairs is where you go for authentic Icelandic food, It's really friendly, perfect for a single diner who is prone to being shy.

The menu is limited, which makes choosing your meal simpler and a bit more interesting because you can;t chicken-out and stick to the familiar. Even so, I think. I was a tad cautious because I chose the fish and potato gratin.

I declined to try the shark fermented in urine. Yes, seriously, the Icelanders eat this, or so they assured me, I watched a Japanese guy try one mouthful, it did not seem to have been a happy experience.

And then desert, a pancake filled with skyr and topped with a caramel sauce and cream.

I kind of got the feeling I'd be eating a lot of fish during the trip.
That suits me but I had to smile at the sign on the wall, it would have made my non-fish-loving ex-husband's heart sink.

And so back to my guesthouse to prepare for bed.
I know that Icelanders like to rock and roll that the city comes alive at around midnight, that out there there would be some serious partying going on, but I'd had enough excitement for one day. It was time for a cup of herbal tea and bed.

So earplugs in and lights out and time to sleep.