The Old British Bat Rant

And now, probably for my pleasure alone, I will recount the story of the old British bat. I wasn't even going to talk about her, but I decided that in 5 years when I am nostalgically rereading old blog posts, I will think this is hilarious.

This lady in her 50s or 60s, June, is from somewhere in England. She loves Iceland and her husband, possibly in that order. The day she arrived (two days after I did), she decided the room was too hot. She turned the heat off. Afraid of being cold during the night, I turned it back on after she had left. By the time she came back, she couldn't do anything about it (a man was sleeping in the bed in front of the nob). 

Tonight, I came back to the hostel, and she told me that she turned the heat off again. I voiced my concern that I thought the room might be too cold without any heat. She assured me that I would be fine and explained that she gets warm. I mentioned that she had more covers than I did. Apparently, that was a wrong move on my part. Actually, she couldn't understand why I left home without a sleeping bag. 1. I don't own one. 2. I didn't think I would need one. I had read that in Scandinavia, you are expected to bring your own sheets, but I never read that you had to bring your own blanket too. 3. I have traveled to 40-something countries and have never had to provide my own blanket, and have only had to provide sheets once or twice.

She reiterated that I'd be fine. I'm not so sure. I am currently sitting in the breakfast room (right outside the room she had been airing out for an hour). The breakfast room is freezing - cold enough that my undershirt, long sleeve, pullover fleece, and fleece jacket aren't quite enough.

I have the last laugh though. My flight is at 7:35 in the morning. I'm waking her up around 4:30. 

Hah.

UPDATE: In fact, the four nights I spent in Reykjavik were the only nights I was not provided with a blanket. The woman's assertion that I should have brought a sleeping bag really did not make any sense.

Also, I did wake her up.

Hah.

Iceland Adventure, Part 1

Perhaps I should get back to chronicling my adventures. All of my two fans will be excited.

I've been traveling in Europe for a bit over a month now. G and I were traveling together until he finally had to go home to go back to work. In fact, today is his first day at work in a month. Good luck, G.

I, on the other hand, have about two weeks left of my trip. I decided to stay a bit extra in Europe because I wanted to see Scandinavia. G doesn't like cold places, so he had no problem with me going out on my own to discover Iceland, Norway, and Sweden.

Which leads us to here and now. Here is Reykjavik, Iceland. Now is Monday, October 7th.

I arrived in Reykjavik on Saturday in the afternoon. I already had my bus into the city booked, so all I had to do was find it and get on (which was not that hard since the airport is fairly small).

I was dropped off at the BSI bus station and walked the rest of the way to the hostel. Of the five beds in the room, I got the worst. The other beds consist of a mattress with a bottom sheet and pillow case. My bed consisted of box springs and a 2-inch thick foam mattress. No bottom sheet. No pillow case. This "mattress" doesn't even fit properly on the bed; it's 4 or 5 inches short in both directions. And this is where I'm supposed to sleep. For 4 nights. I kid you not.

That afternoon, I put on more layers. Because 4 wasn't enough. I walked towards the giant church, Hallgrímskirkja, then down into the city center. I didn't make it that far before hunger got the best of me, and I turned my attention to finding food.

I couldn't find the cheaper Bonus supermarket (whose mascot is a very porky porker reminiscent of a piggy bank), so I settled for a store advertising its status as a 24 hour store. I made some excellent purchases: ramen noodles, American-style popcorn, and a very expensive cheesy croissant. It turns out that the expensive cheesy croissant had a slice of ham baked in. Not cool, Iceland - hiding meat inside a pastry and then naming it some outlandish Icelandic name that probably translates to "croissant with ham inside" but means nothing to a very hungry vegetarian with a penchant for croissants.

I did not purchase the $5 croissantwich in vain, however. The next day, I sat in the sun by the lake behind city hall and fed it to some greedy swans and ducks. I hope they appreciated the little something extra.