Wednesday, May 13, 2009

On the bus ride to our hotel, I tried in vain to sleep as Wynene snapped away out of the large window to our right. The landscape was flat and barren the entire way and the sky was overcast. 

Once we arrived and dropped our bags in our room at Hotel Loftleider, we wandered downstairs to sample the breakfast buffet despite our pure exhaustion. I looked forward to some foreign fare and was not disappointed. Along with the some of the staple buffet foods we would expect at home (toast, rolls, wedges of fruit, and containers dispensing a variety of cereals) we also came across little dishes of pickled herring, dips and sauces of questionable origin, and our personal fave: cottage cheese from a tube. Why Wynene and I didn't ever take a camera downstairs for the first four breakfasts we experienced there to get a photo of one of the most amusing things we saw in Iceland, I cannot explain. 

A large tube sat on a small plate, its cap removed and some chunky white cottage cheese just stealing its way out of the opening from the last person who squeezed it. I never ever thought presentation would affect my appetite. But the fact that this huge tube resembled a foot cream to me yet dispensed something edible was more than I could stomach. It was comical of course, especially since everyone was appearing to abide by the rules of conduct that insist you squeeze from the bottom.  And I sort of pride myself about not being particularly squeamish, especially concerning food, but there was no way I could eat that. And I really like cottage cheese. I just wasn't feeling adventurous or interested in experiencing it for its novelty. I was simply repulsed. I have to say though that it was very amusing to come down to breakfast a couple days later to find that someone had squeezed the tube from the middle. Just ain't right.

After breakfast we rode the elevator back up to the fourth floor and crashed, the two of us probably snoozing for about three hours. We awoke, far more refreshed than previously, and decided that we would walk to downtown Reykjavik. Now, it was bitterly cold the entire time we spent in Iceland (yes, Wy, bitterly) and the walk was about a half hour, but when we finally reached it, one of the first things we did was step into a quaint little cafe with an American barista who, about two years ago, moved to Iceland from California! 

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