Happy 2016
Even though there's officially another month of winter left on the calendar [you know, the one we all use that doesn't reflect climate change?] I can already say that this has not been the predicted repeat of Winter 2014/15, at least here on Cape Cod. I know that someone will likely point out that we were away during the biggest snow event of the season, and I'm probably the only person you'll ever know who would admit to being in Paris and feeling resentful about missing it. But that aside, the brushes with wintry weather may be quite memorable to those who were actually holding down the Fort Hill fort [thank you again, Ginny!], but they pale in comparison to last year's relentless storms. While one can still find a pile of dirty snow in a parking lot, if you cared to look hard enough, there haven't been all that many days that the lawn was covered in white. And, speaking of the lawn, if March doesn't provide the big finish of our missing winter, it could be time to get out the mower soon. There are already snowdrops, crocuses and daffodils in bloom, with several other brave varieties poking their heads through the chilly earth, ready for a cue to go TA DA!.
But, I digress. A Carpe Diem trip?
Back in 2012, I wrote the three-part Innkeepers Go On Holiday to chronicle the first trip we took since opening our Crosswinds B&B on Cape Cod. After hosting tourists from all over the world, we took some time to enjoy stepping into their shoes for a change, especially in countries with different languages and customs, to see things from the other side. On our 2016 Winter trip, from which we just returned, we've just visited four countries in three weeks, which was more epic than the last trip for a number of reasons. Not least of all was getting to visit a new place, Iceland, and to revisit London, Amsterdam and Paris, for another chance to see things we missed the first time. [There are always more things to see.]
Another bonus was that our son, Doug, who had already been traveling for two weeks and was planning to visit us on Cape Cod before returning home, consented to meeting us at the airport in Boston to continue on with the trip we’d planned, instead. As long as he could visit someplace new that he hadn’t been to before, he was game. Horrible parents that we are, we did “drag” him back to London for a second time, but sweetened the deal with tickets to “Book of Mormon”, which we’d all been wanting to see.
Though we wouldn’t meet Una
until later that night, we immediately met two of the main reasons we chose her
place – her cats, Keli and Bukolla.
We knew we would be starved for feline contact during the trip, so “Two
Cats and an Apartment” immediately caught our attention on Airbnb's Reykjavik listings. They were just the greeting we had hoped
for and after a good look around and reading Una’s welcome notes, we crashed on
the inviting, comfortable beds for a good three hours, trying to reset our
internal clocks. By this time, we
were ready to take a walk around the lovely neighborhood, find something to call dinner and
turn in early, with kitties purring Icelandic lullabies near our toes.
Stay tuned for Part II - Reykjavik and The Golden Circle
Okay, here's a teaser:
But, I digress. A Carpe Diem trip?
Back in 2012, I wrote the three-part Innkeepers Go On Holiday to chronicle the first trip we took since opening our Crosswinds B&B on Cape Cod. After hosting tourists from all over the world, we took some time to enjoy stepping into their shoes for a change, especially in countries with different languages and customs, to see things from the other side. On our 2016 Winter trip, from which we just returned, we've just visited four countries in three weeks, which was more epic than the last trip for a number of reasons. Not least of all was getting to visit a new place, Iceland, and to revisit London, Amsterdam and Paris, for another chance to see things we missed the first time. [There are always more things to see.]
Another bonus was that our son, Doug, who had already been traveling for two weeks and was planning to visit us on Cape Cod before returning home, consented to meeting us at the airport in Boston to continue on with the trip we’d planned, instead. As long as he could visit someplace new that he hadn’t been to before, he was game. Horrible parents that we are, we did “drag” him back to London for a second time, but sweetened the deal with tickets to “Book of Mormon”, which we’d all been wanting to see.
Now, I’ve always been a
"nervous flyer", and I know I'm not alone in that. In fact, our wonderful
primary care doctor admitted to me, as she prescribed something for acute
flying anxiety, that her dream has always been to go to Hawaii, but she hasn't yet
conquered her own fear of flying over the ocean. Not only were the SIX flights that this trip entailed upping
the challenge for me to epic proportions, we were just getting through a very
scary and challenging year health-wise, and my mettle was still catching up with
my nerve when Ron explained how important it was for him to “seize the day”
with this trip. There were some
concessions that were made, such as our first time ever paying extra to fly first class to
help reduce my stress. And, when Ron
found a great price to Europe on Icelandair, traveling through Reykjavik, a
place I’d always wanted to visit, I lobbied for a few days stopover. After that, I gave him carte blanche to
plan the trip of his dreams.
That’s a bit like putting a kid in charge of a candy store and shortly
thereafter, London, Amsterdam and Paris quickly appeared on a three-week
itinerary, with specific reasons for all of them. He would have happily kept planning, had our son not needed to get
back to work by a specific date.
Not that I’d ever trade the
adventure, but three weeks is a long time to be away from the
home we love and our cats, and it will probably take another three weeks to get un-jet
lagged, catch up and have our cats stop following us every time we go into
another room. But, the up-side is always the memories, pictures and lessons we learn when seeing life from the other side. So, carpe diem.
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| Goodbye, Boston Courtesy of Ron's iPhone in the window seat. |
DAY 1 - Departure
All of our trips start with
a drive to Barnstable to the Park-and-Ride, where we can leave our car and
catch a Plymouth and Brockton bus to Logan Airport in Boston. This not only saves on big airport
parking fees, it also saves us from battling Boston traffic. The bags were finally packed, making
last minute substitutions as we guessed at what we’d really need for
three weeks and we were relaxing over coffee with our friend Ray, who had dropped by for last minute instructions on keeping the cats company while we were gone. [The same thing you always do while we're here, Ray. Turn on the t.v., pick a movie and take a nap on the couch.] I
casually asked, “what exact time do we
need to leave?” Checking his
watch, Ron leapt into action and roared, “TEN
MINUTES AGO!” Thus started our
mad dash to Barnstable to find a parking spot [at the very end of the lot, of
course], buy tickets, and collapse gasping in our bus seats just before
departure.
The day progressed more
smoothly as our bus pulled up to the airport terminal door just as we received a
text from Doug that his plane from San Francisco had just landed and he’d meet
us at our flight check-in. Getting through security
was pretty much as expected-xrays, shoes off, patted down, luggage search. It was strangely just as comforting as
it was annoying, at least to me.
We
were then all about to be rewarded with another benefit of flying first class –
the special Saga waiting lounge.
This is a beautifully appointed, peaceful haven for travelers as they
wait for their flights to be called.
When one has to check in two hours early for an international flight,
it’s a pretty delightful place to be.
With comfy couches conveniently placed near charging stations for
laptops and phones, and a complimentary gourmet buffet, in case you might be
feeling a bit peckish before takeoff, I could have spent the whole day there
rather than get on that first plane. I emailed
my sister-in-law in San Diego that “I
could get used to this!” Maybe I could just stay in that lounge for three weeks...As
it turned out, just having the magic “fear-of-flying” pills as my safety net
was enough, and I never actually had to take one. Score one for this wimpy traveler!
Upon boarding the plane, the
special treatment continued. We found our seats, so roomy that I could actually cross and uncross my legs without performing advanced yoga moves, and buckled up for the first leg of our trip
to the magical island of Iceland.
The inside of the cabin was softly lit with the changing colors of
greens and purples of the aurora borealis that Iceland is known for. They probably had that in the economy class, too, but I pretended they were just for us. If you know the answer to that, don't tell me. We hadn’t even taken off before we were
being offered complimentary drinks, noise reducing headphones and a packet of
comfort items such as eye masks, ear plugs, lip balm, a toothbrush and
toothpaste, hand cream, even socks.
And, no sooner than we were leveling out high above New England,
steaming towels appeared on silver tongs so that we could freshen up before
dinner. Now, I was wishing that I
hadn’t had seconds on the tortellini in the lounge. It’s been a
long time since I could praise airline food, but I obviously haven’t been in
the right seats to receive it.
Everything was delicious, which answers the question of whether edible airline food is actually possible to make, and I settled back sated with happy taste
buds, my ears tickled by occasional announcements in the Icelandic language,
the fake aurora borealis light show and the travel movie I chose to watch about
things to visit in Iceland. It
wasn’t long before I drifted off, feeling proud of myself for facing down this
very common fear of flying, and grateful for a husband who patiently encourages
me.
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| Courtesy of Doug's iPhone from across the aisle. [Note our fake aurora borealis lighting!] |
KEFLAVIK, ICELAND
When one leaves their time
zone and gains five hours, arriving into a new world sleep-deprived is a big
adjustment. Thankfully, most
Icelanders are taught English as a second language at an early age. They are also incredibly polite,
friendly and helpful, and know that their language is difficult for most to
crack. The closest I’ve heard to
it is Danish, but I was able to grasp the all-important word for thank you [takk].
Ron had decided to arrange for a four-wheel drive car rental so we could tour The Golden Circle on our own
schedule, so the first task was to figure out how to connect with this
car. A very laid back person at an
information booth assured us that we’d be picked up by a representative of the
SIXT car rental company, and we would know him immediately because he would be
very orange. We didn’t wait long,
and indeed, the whole company was definitely counting on the color orange to be
noticed, except for the cars.
Luckily, the reps know the right questions to ask unsuspecting tourists
before they set out into the wilds, and with their helpful advice, we tweaked the insurance and mileage
before putting Doug behind the wheel to head towards our Airbnb host in
downtown Reykjavik. With this first short introduction to Iceland and its people, we learned that there is virtually no crime. As for worrying about anyone stealing their cars, the attendant shrugged and said, 'where are they going to go?"
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| The fuel is diesel and it's expensive, approximately $6.50/gallon. |
Iceland’s airport is in a
little town called Keflavik, about 45 minutes from Reykjavik, and as we set out, we were about to discover three things. First, they love highway
rotaries as much as we do in New England. Second, Doug was delighted to find out that our ride for the next few days had a heated steering wheel; it's the little things. And, as the sky was just beginning to show a hint of light, we were surprised to learn that on this island near the Arctic Circle, they also have a morning
rush hour. Ultimately, as we
crawled towards our destination, strangers in a strange land, we found that there had been an accident that
had slowed things down, just like at home.
As I always try to warn our
B&B guests, GPS’s are great for getting you almost there, but as so
often happens, gets you to the right street, but leaves you on your own to find
the right entrance. They also aren’t
much help with reading street signs in Icelandic. This resulted in another instance of the local people going
out of their way to be helpful. A
young woman driving past us noticed our looks of confusion as we stared at all
the houses, then put her car in reverse, and asked if we needed help. We had our Airbnb host’s phone number,
so she called and got the instructions to guide us to the right spot. We remembered that our host, Una, would be at
school and that we should let ourselves in to the unlocked apartment. Finding a spot close by to park, we hoisted our suitcases through the few inches of snow, up the stairs to our Icelandic home-away-from home for the next three nights.
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| It's here somewhere... |
Stay tuned for Part II - Reykjavik and The Golden Circle
Okay, here's a teaser:
 |
| THERE ARE A LOT OF THESE BEAUTIFUL, ICELANDIC SWEATERS! And, if you have a lot of money, and aren't allergic to wool, you can bring one home. |
