Iceland: "It's like Taranaki all over again!"

After taking 6 hours to get to Gatwick and then getting a relatively good night's sleep at the hotel, we set off again, this time to the airport proper. Check in was possibly the easiest I've ever dealt with - the advantage here of taking cabin baggage only. Early morning tiredness and grouchy mood seriously helped by the little baggage labels which proudly proclaim "YOU SHALL PASS" in happy letters. Aww.

A leisurely stop at Costa for breakfast (mmm, bacon buns) and then a massively uneventful flight to Keflavik Airport. The view was gorgeous on the descent, but unfortunately I have no photos.

Only downside of the nice view was that I could quite clearly see the army of snowploughs trundling merrily around the runway. I imagine it goes something like this: plough runway, plane lands, plough runway again. Repeatedly. All day.

By this time it was about 2 in the afternoon. It near enough took us less time to get from London to Keflavik than it did to get from Grimsby to London. Why is that? WHY, UK? Why?

Ahem. Moving on.

Quick airport lunch and then a shuttle to Reykjavik proper which is about 45 minutes' drive away. It started snowing while we were waiting on the bus. It did not stop.

I fell asleep on the bus and by the time I woke up again it was properly dark and we were almost into Reykjavik. Considering it's not that big a city (200,000+ people), it spreads a bloody long way. Passing through the outskirts I started imagining the nice comfy hotel waiting for us. Suffice to say said hotel was actually almost another hour away.

Reykjavik is pretty at night. I have no photos of this. Bugger it.

The hotel was also rather nice. Having spent three weeks hostelling round New Zealand, this was a nice change. You know, no low-lying bunk-beds out to give you concussion, no queue for the bathroom... Mmm.

Anyways, the receptionist was also super awesome and pointed us in the direction of a Thai place down the road to grab some tea. So we wrapped up, by now realising just how cold it is in Iceland, and trudged off down the road in search of food.

I should point out here that the Icelanders don't seem to have discovered the concept of gritting pavements. Or roads for that matter. It's a good job we took walking boots.

The Thai place was a little take away with a tiny little bar to sit if you wanted to eat in. Despite initial appearances it was actually really rather good (and massively filling) and lulled me at least into a false sense of security regarding Icelandic prices.

Nicely full of spring rolls and noodles, we turned to brave the cold again. Which was fine - layer upon layer of clothes was keeping that out. We weren't so prepared for the sudden onslaught of the ice rain which hit us part way back to the hotel. I can but presume I was a bit delirious with tiredness by this point because I just kept giggling and telling Gemma it was like Taranaki all over again and I'd have to tell my sister when we got back. I'm not sure she heard me - too wrapped up in her scarf and whatnot. See this post 'yur regarding the adventure at Taranaki. Bloody storm, following me around the world. Gah.

Any vague plans we'd had to do a little exploration round Reykjavik went on hold and after the planned trip to see the Northern Lights got cancelled because of that damn storm we ended up spending the evening channel hopping.

Great, aside from the fact that the only English-language channels in the hotel room were news channels and Cartoon Network. I introduced Gemma to the Powerpuff Girls. It was glorious.