Whale of a Tale, Part II

It wasn’t so hard to get myself out of bed on Monday as there are only about six hours of darkness this time of year, (of that six, only about 2 are really dark). I got up, ate breakfast at the hostel, and boarded a bus with Semi for the “Golden Circle” tour. The Golden Circle refers to the most visited areas of Iceland that journey into the center of the country, which was still mostly frozen around the time of the year that I traveled through the country.

On the bus, we were forced to digest the anecdotes of the world’s worst tour guide. I don’t remember her name, but it was something in the same category as Hulga in regards to its aesthetic. Whats-her-name was a very large Icelandic woman with a propensity to get disinterested in her own sentences, only to finish them moments later. The problem was that the end of the sentence was never as interesting as you’d hope it would be. She’d come on the microphone and say things like, “Iceland has many…

…HORSES.” Sometimes she wouldn’t even say anything. Perhaps it was when she would turn on the microphone and just breath heavily that haunted me the most. Either way, I could hardly stay awake with the commentary.

Additionally, as the tour was driven by profit, the bus would stop at only the expensive and uninteresting places to eat and the most touristy places with the tackiest of gift shops. One of which was a greenhouse with overpriced Icelandic wool called “the Garden of Eden.” I have to be honest, I know I hadn’t been too far out of the city, but I was already starting to wonder if I would regret coming to Iceland. This just felt like a watered down Williamsburg tour and I had paid good money for this trip.

The soulless Garden of Eden

Then, we went to our first real destination, Gulfoss. Gulfoss, literally “Golden Falls,” is the most enormous, and beautiful waterfall in Iceland. Because there is so much energy that is given off as a result of waterfalls, many aluminum plants have been brought to Iceland in hope of harnessing this raw power. Luckily, Gulfoss is protected by the government and no one will allow the companies to touch it. At least one country has the insight to protect its natural areas.

Gulfoss

Following Gulfoss was Geysir, the area of the most active and accessible geysers in the country. Some of them would go off almost every ten minutes. The water was over 100° C. What would happen is that the steam would build up and, as steam has more mass than water, a burst of steam and water would spray from the ground to release pressure. Pretty cool stuff.

Geysir, this is where the word geyser actually comes from

The last two stops, Keriđ crater and Thingvellir national park were also nice. The cause of the gigantic crater is still unknown, although there are many theories. The park was were the first parliament of Iceland was formed, some 1000 years ago.

Keriđ crater, (note the people in the upper right gives perspective of how massive the crater is)


Thingvellir national park

On our way back to Reykjavik, I sparked up a conversation with a couple from Brooklyn behind me. They were Jeremy and Nadia Lachance, young and hip travelers with a knack for photography. Unified for our hatred of the tour, we exchanged e-mail addresses for the off chance that we might be able to rent a car and drive into the countryside.

When we came back to the city, Semi and I walked around Reykjavik a bit before heading back to the hostel. We saw a lot of the city and bought some food before calling it a night.

Hallgrimskirkaja Church in Reykjavik

Whale of a Tale, Part I

Rotted shark meat, surly horses, and a kooky photographer. My journey through Iceland was quite an epic adventure.

I suppose I’ve wanted to go to Iceland since I was a real youngster. Around the time that Sigur Ros’ album “( )” was being advertised for realse, I developed a small obsession with Icelandic culture.

Since I’ve been living in France, I had spoken of going somewhere with a lot of snow—be it in the Alps or even farther North. I also considered fulfilling my long dream of going to Iceland, but had really accepted it as impossible due to finances and the fact that I knew I would never be able to get my friends make that kind of a financial commitment.

However, when Spring Break was nearing, I decided to check Plane tickets on a whim. I’ve done this several times for different flights and I’ve found great rates on round trip tickets to other places. I checked for a random schedule of April 13 through the 21, figuring that 8 days would give me plenty of time in Iceland. The tickets I found were really cheap! As fate would have it, if I tried to adjust my travel plans by one day on either end of my vacation, the rate more than doubled.

My predicament was that I could not invite anyone to join me as my vacation was two weeks, and all my friends only had a single week of vacation. As I could only get good rates for my first week, I just bought to tickets and made a prayer that I made a good decision to fly to Iceland on my own.

I immediately began to prepare my trip there. Looking online for stuff to see, learning about the country and it’s culture, I discovered that many people had recommended just going there and making up your trip as you go along. I’m usually not so whimsical, but I decided that it might be better going there and letting myself get into trouble this way. Turned out to be one of the best decisions of my life.

I flew IcelandAir, the Icelandic airline that anyone can justify flying. The company is one of the only air companies that designs their jets to try to reduce exhaust and they also offer you an option when you purchase your ticket to plant a certain number of trees depending on the number of miles you have traveled. I usually hate flying, but I found it kind of endearing when I heard the safety instructions read to me in Icelandic.

Arriving in Iceland was pretty remarkable. The first thing you see off the coast of Iceland is a snow-covered desert of volcanic rock. We flew over beautiful cliffs and wacky formations and would only see signs of human life sparingly. When we landed at the airport in Keflavik, I noticed that there were only 18 gates—all in a straight line. It was a very small, charming airport.

I took the flybus, a cheap shuttle service that drove me directly to my hostel in Reykjavik, (The capital city whose name literally means “Smoky Bay,” a name coined by a Viking who witnessed the steam from the natural geysers and volcanoes on the coast). I started talking to the girl in front of me, who I had noticed at the airport in Paris. Her name was Semi, and she was an art student in Paris and she was here to do her final project in Photography. She, too, was going to the hostel and I also learned that she had found the same cheap tickets I did because her arrival and departure from Iceland to Paris was also the same as mine. Small world.

We checked into the hostel, (who had an extremely friendly and beautiful Dutch staff working for them), and put our stuff down. Semi and I met up in the common room to discuss our week. We scheduled a tour together for the next day and decided we would kind of take things as they come for the rest of the week.

We went to the local super market to grab some grub, ate a small dinner in one of the Hostel’s kitchens, and then we went for a walk. Now, it should be said that Iceland is the safest country in the world. Additionally, there are only 300,000 residents, and roughly 75% of that number lives in Reykjavik. So, we went walking around a really artsy city half the size of Cleveland. We walked over to the coast to watch what was left of the Northern lights in the distance. It was quite cold, even with all my gear on, so we decided to get back to the hostel and get some sleep. I was fortunate enough to have the room to myself the first night, so I got a good night’s sleep in preparation for the tour the next day.


Reykjavik coast at night

Weight loss

The hilarious result of my working out and dieting in France.

Enjoy:

"Mais non! C'est Jean Phillipe Mercier!"

I'm trying to find my way around the Catholic University because I have my first class in Genesis/Exodus. I find the staircase marked "i", which is where the room is located. An old woman was entering the staircase and asked me if this was the was where the class was. I said, "yes, are you the professor?" (in French of course) and she turned to me and said, "But no! The professor is Jean-Phillipe Mercier!" She made sure she really pronounced this guys name. It's like I didn't know who Sarkozy was or something... I took two steps back. Apparently I offended her by not knowing who this guy was.

On my way up to the classroom, I tried to think of who this guy was... some suave-looking Theologian who dresses himself in the finest French clothing and can recite Baudelaire without flinching. I walked into the room, which was about the size of an Auditorium, and it was almost full already and the class didn't start for another ten minutes. They were also notably very, very old. However, I just tried to find one of the last available seats so I didn't have to stand.

Finally, the doors opened. I waited for a red carpet, but it never came. In trotted a short man, who I couldn't really see over the heads of the sea of people in front of me. He crossed behind the desk, and I could barely see what looked like a camel's hump going up and down. Finally, he stood onto the podium, revealing his true form. Jean Phillipe Mercier was a 70-year-old version of Danny Deveto with liver spots and below his nasty french comb-over rested coke-bottle sized classes that enlarged his eyes and made him look like a frog. I saw everyone in the class sit up. This was their idol. This was their McJagger.

Froggie hands out the course syllabus and we go over it briefly before he jumps directly into the course. He starts directly with Genesis, and the first thing I notice is how animated he is. He pauses at the end of every sentence like a punchline. And surely enough--his audience laughs.

When speaking about the Garden of Eden, he became a little bit vulgar. "So, God lets Adam hang out in his junk yard. 'Yeah, man, you can mess with anything you'd like, just watch out for the electric fence.' Adam says okay but one day, he has a little too much pressed cider and Adam goes and pisses on the electric fence. What an asshole!" Everyone in the class roars at this. The nuns are looking up doughy-eyed, as if they're hair hoppers from the fifties staring at the Fonz , and the priests and seminarians seem to be taking notes (on how to be cool).

When he turns to write Hebrew on the board, I swear I saw one of the nuns throw her delicates to the front of the room. This man was clearly a fan-favorite amongst the clergy of Lyon. His intelligence and wit made everyone melt around him. I bet there wasn't one woman in that room who wouldn't have given up her vows for seven minutes in Jean Phillipe Mercier's heaven, if you know what I mean...

We begin with the genealogy, you know... Abraham and Sarah and all their children and their children's children. I'm reminded why I've put off my Genesis studies until now. Jean Phillipe Mercier, however, is making huge jokes about how many years pass from generation:

"That means when Sarah finally has a kid, she's about 700 years old. That must have been some very, very nasty sex. I don't imagine that their neighbors enjoyed it either! Imagine the smells emanating from that apartment! Merde!"

The class moves along at the same pace until the end. We're all quite exhausted by this guys energy and he has worked up a sweat not unlike the artists Meatloaf. And when the class finally finishes, I pack up my books to go talk to the professor (because I'm a foreign student, and I want to introduce myself to him so that he'll have sympathy on my situation). But, I'm halted by a line of people (apparently waiting for an autograph after that performance).

I didn't have time for this. It's time for "The Bible and Violence" class. This conversation will have to wait 'til next time.

And until next time, you'll have to enjoy that brilliantly crafted story of Jean Phillipe Mercier.

The End

Family, Initiation of Movie Sunday, New Semester... in 20 seconds

So the internet has been more a luxury than an actual feature of living with a host family lately. For that reason, I haven’t been able to blog. Also, since my host my mom needs the office, here are the highlights in twenty seconds.

Over Christmas, my family came and visited. It was a lot of fun! We were in Paris for a while, seeing Art Museums and the Eiffel Tower and such. Then, we came back to Lyon were I got sick. However, it was still a fun trip and I’m happy that my parents are planning another trip, probably to Italy, for an upcoming summer.

Since then, my friends and I have initiated what is known as movie Sunday. As there is rarely anything else to do on a Sunday, my friends and I got to the movie theatre and indulge ourselves with English-speaking movies. There has been far too much French lately and this provides ourselves with a little comfort. Hooray.

I finally got my classes set for next semester this past Thursday. Yep, the French do wait til the last minute because the new semester starts Monday. I’m taking three philosophy and three theology classes: all in French. And here’s the kicker—four day weekend every weekend! Monday and Friday, no classes. I’m not the only one, too. Amy and Amanda will also have that schedule, which will provide the three of us with time to travel every week.

Yes, you can take this time to be jealous.

In other news, my friend Kate got a job at a bar, so we’ve been hanging out there a lot. Mostly drinking coffee because she works during the day.

I will probably post pictures, etc. Soon. There was a giant breakfast party at my friend Wayland’s place and I’ve also cut my hair. So look for more… soon?