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Þingvellir, Hrafnagjá and Almannagjá
Jun. 12th, 2007 08:13 pmAt the beginning of last month I had the good fortune to spend eight days in Iceland, with about five of those days on the ground doing whatever I wanted. Whatever I wanted turned out to be quite a bit, to the point that my bank account is crying for mercy. Every time I look its way I think I hear my wallet weeping.
And me, silly girl that I am came completely unprepared, I blame part of this on the fact that I tumbled off a commercial flight from Munich, Germany crammed myself onto a bus and went home for a grand total of five hours. Just five. I didn't even bother changing out of my uniform, except for the knee high navy blue stockings and the ugly navy blue heels that make me feel like the 80's have come back to devour me alive. I had a few hours of quality time with my slippers, changed out the luggage and then and the heavens opened and the rain poured down and it was off to JFK... again. You know you're loaded down and looking pathetic when people help you onto the bus and then strike up a conversation with you - this does not happen in New York! It breaks the cardinal rule of how to interact with people in NYC and yet there seems to be something about my uniform that says "Talk to me!" Argh. The fact that I resembled a drowned rat probably wasn't working in my favor either: my umbrella, as it happens, is seeing Germany without me.
( umbrella-less I was not be daunted in my quest to reach the country of Iceland )
And me, silly girl that I am came completely unprepared, I blame part of this on the fact that I tumbled off a commercial flight from Munich, Germany crammed myself onto a bus and went home for a grand total of five hours. Just five. I didn't even bother changing out of my uniform, except for the knee high navy blue stockings and the ugly navy blue heels that make me feel like the 80's have come back to devour me alive. I had a few hours of quality time with my slippers, changed out the luggage and then and the heavens opened and the rain poured down and it was off to JFK... again. You know you're loaded down and looking pathetic when people help you onto the bus and then strike up a conversation with you - this does not happen in New York! It breaks the cardinal rule of how to interact with people in NYC and yet there seems to be something about my uniform that says "Talk to me!" Argh. The fact that I resembled a drowned rat probably wasn't working in my favor either: my umbrella, as it happens, is seeing Germany without me.
( umbrella-less I was not be daunted in my quest to reach the country of Iceland )
