Iceland

This really is a uniquely fascinating country and I'm glad we got to explore it in an in-depth fashion today. And we didn't even have to leave Reykjavik to do it.

But first, the obvious: happy summer solstice! (And happy anniversary to my younger girl and her love, and to my good friend in Florida and her love!) 

My choice of dates for Iceland was not accidental. I wanted to be here for summer solstice because, well, it's cool to put yourself this far north on the longest day of the year. This moment in the planet's movement has always held a good dose of wonder for me. I love long hours of daylight! So here we are, reveling in the beauty of the earth's orbit. Scientific, but magical nonetheless.

 

We wake up to window washing. This is certainly in the hotel's favor: the rooms are full of windows and they are close to the sea and to bird activity. Clean windows we shall have. More interestingly, we watch the guy do his task with the longest washing stick I have ever seen. We are on the fourth floor. He has no trouble reaching us there.

Breakfast: again, the hotel is well organized to handle a sizeable crowd. And the foods are good. The girl is thrilled that they have hash browns. Give her a potato in some form and she is happy. (Too, she likes their smoked salmon and croissant. I'm up for some deeply seeded bread which I imagine to be Nordic.)

Next, I booked us a visit to Perlan. This place is hard to explain: perched on a hill, a significant walk away from the hotel (we take a taxi to it), it is a very modern museum that tries to give you a feel for Iceland's wonders -- both in the sky and on the ground. They call it a natural history museum, but it is not at all a typical natural history place, or at least not like I've ever seen. I wasn't sure what to expect. Snowdrop was skeptical (you had to walk through parts of it with a group). We entered.

Surprisingly, it was not crowded. Reykjavik is packed right now. Of course it is. How could you resist it on this day, in this season! But most visitors actually do not stay in the city for long. (I think this is part of the problem at the hotels: people don't much care about their overnight. They move on to do tours, take cruises; in other words, they leave pretty quickly.) And clearly most do not make the trip up to Perlan. What a shame.

We walk through the more traditional museum exhibits, though they're done with flare, and the space is so beautiful that you almost forget to look at what's displayed. Still, we do not read all that's there. Not sure why. Perhaps there's just too much. 

Moreover, I took almost no photos. Again, not sure why. Though I did snap one of this significant animal -- the Arctic fox -- Iceland's only native mammal.

 

 

 

Snowdrop loved this next display. Puffins are one reason why she wanted to come to Iceland. We haven't seen any, but we have a couple of days to go!

 

 

And I learned something interesting here -- with the help of the museum rep who answered some troubling questions for me:

 

 

Polar bears are not native to Iceland, but they have been spotted in a number of places. They come here afloat on an ice brick. What happens to them? Well, a concerted effort is made to catch them once spotted, and to take them back to their native Greenland. But the effort often fails and the guide tells me that they then have to be euthanized. Why? Because they stay by the shore, where most of the country's population lives and they pose a real danger to communities and to local wildlife. 

Now come the three segments that proved to be a whopping highlight for Snowdrop and therefore for me as well. First, there was a movie -- just 7 minutes long -- that showed the eruption of Eyjafjallajökull (I cannot pronounce this!) in 2010. This volcano had a slow lava spill and so people could actually get pretty close to the eruption. Too, it's near Reykjavik -- again, easy access. The videos were nothing short of spectacular. The girl was wide-eyed throughout.

The second segment was a surprise. The museum is testing a new exhibit and as our small group was first in the museum today, we were asked if we wanted a pre-show of sorts (it's not yet open to the public). Of course we did!

They took us to a room with a wide screen below, in front and above. They warned us that some viewers may get dizzy. We would be going inside the eruption of the volcano. We were told that if we got lightheaded, or nervous or claustrophobic we should close our eyes. (Yep, several times I closed my eyes!) None of these shows permitted photos let alone videos, but here is Snowdrop, waiting for it to begin.

 

 

It was unbelievable! Obviously filmed by drones, the film engulfed you with its bursts of flame, its lava flow, its sheer seismic force! We all burst into applause at the end. 

Finally, there was the ice cave. Recently opened, it is made out of ice and snow, transported from the glaciers and mountains of this country. It was a cold experience!

 

 

 

 

 

One more display -- of glacier debris...

 

 

 ... and we're done.

Upstairs, there is a gift shop, an ice cream shop, and a viewing platform, allowing us to look out on Reykjavik. We partook of all three! 

 

 

The girl wrote postcards to her friends and her brother and then it was time to go back. 

I was delighted that she opted for walking to the hotel -- a mere 45 minutes and downhill all the way. It was raining, but I had an umbrella (which she refused, claiming she liked getting wet). I want to reach my daily walking goal -- she tells me. Well me too! 

And the walk, especially at the beginning, is absolutely gorgeous. The lupines that we saw out the window speeding from the airport, are right there by the path, flanked by golden buttercups and birch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(And back in town again)

 

 

 (all the way down, to that splendid concert hall -- and their gift shop)

 

 Back at the hotel, we hit a wall of different desires. The manager called and told me he had a room ready for us -- one that actually matched the website description. No useless corridor and weird arrangements. An actual sitting area as promised. I said -- let's do it, I'll pack us up. Snowdrop hates room changes. We'd had one out of necessity in Copenhagen. It was a "here we go again" moment for her, just as she had found her comfortable spot. She begged to stay with what we had. I thought about it, but in the end, I couldn't just let it go. I was paying so much, for something that should have cost so little. 

It took a whole lunch of fish and chips to convince her that this was the right thing to do.

 

 

The young man who helped us with luggage was from the Ukraine. He'd left just as the war started. His family is stuck there. Listening to him talk about this made you really feel incredibly sad. He had no one but his cousin here. He could not even think about his grandparents left behind -- it brought him too much grief. 

He is not the first immigrant we met here. The salesclerk from Latvia, the taxi driver from an Arabic nation. The young man who delivered us some flowers, here from Portugal. The waitress from Greece. They must feel so far away from home in this very cold and uniquely isolated country. And yet they come, because they must.

(in our new space -- perhaps smaller, but so much more functional and as promised, with a place to sit)

 

 

We eat dinner at the Messinn. Another fish place. This one prepares individual pans of fish (many local varieties!), with added sauces, veggies and boiled potatoes. Here's my Arctic char:

 

 

 

And here's Snowdrop doing one of her favorite kill-times: creating characters on my iPhone. But I do tear her away from it by describing the Tana French mystery that I am reading. We come up with possible solutions. I ask her to read the ending when we get back and tell me if we are on the right track. Gaga! I'm a child! I love talking about this, but I don't enjoy reading about murders! I smile and tell her -- you know, kids your age do like Sherlock Holmes. (Do they? This is a guess...) She asks -- do you know if Holms dies at the end? Ha! I have to look it up. And the answer makes us laugh! (He is killed off in the final story in the series, but readers were so outraged by this ending that Sir AC Doyle resurrected him again, claiming that he had faked his death.)

 

 

Evening comes. Well, not really. Or only if you go by the clock. Like on New Year's Eve, there is the temptation to stay up, to see what it's like then. It's supposed to stop raining, but it will be cloudy. But, for that moment of wakefulness, we would pay the price, with tiredness tomorrow. And we're to have an early day. (In fact, I'm not quite sure when I'll be able to blog. I don't see a window for it!) 

I convince her to go to sleep. Maybe you stayed up? Played music? Had a lovely long evening with your beloveds? I hope so.

with so much love... 

from hot to cold

So warm in Paris! So not warm in Reykjavik. 

Let me take you back to last night: it was one of those beautiful evenings in the city. The heat dissipates with the setting sun. Parisians (and visitors) just cannot get enough of this moment of pure idleness, outside, with friends, maybe even alone. (I'm seeing many more solo diners -- often older women. This is totally new. For decades I've been the one and only person in a dining room without a companion.) The sun sets around 10 p.m. I look outside our window and listen to the gentle hum of happiness.

(Paris, at 10:15p.m.)

Is it a wonder that we should stay up this late? We do a little better: lights out for Snowdrop at 11! 

And the morning is sunny and everyone says -- this is going to be a hot one!

Not for us.

We eat breakfast, perfect for the second day in a row. We've settled into our croissant routine. Today's waiter is charming and politely not intrusive. Another wonderful morning at the Baume.

We have a little time before we have to leave and so I propose a walk to the Luxembourg Gardens. Snowdrop loves these gardens almost as much as I do! Possibly under my influence, or maybe just because this space is so very wonderful.

(school kids)

 

We do a loop...

... then go back to the hotel, pick up our suitcases and head for the airport. The girl is tired and asks if maybe we could do a taxi. We're dressed for Reykjavik and the train is going to be crowded and possibly without air conditioning. And the walk to it is uphill and the cab cost isn't hugely in excess of two train tickets. Frankly, I am relieved to cab it.

Until we hit the traffic in Paris. Actually the traffic along the entire route. I keep watching the clock. Did I underestimate the needed time?  

I haven't taken off from Terminal 1 of CDG airport since I was here with my own little girls. Being now a dedicated Air France/Delta/KLM traveler, I'm always leaving out of the newer, bigger terminal 2. But today, I have no regrets in bypassing the main hub. The traffic there is so backed up that you'll need at least 30 minutes at the airport just to crawl to the entrance. That would make it a 2 hour journey from our hotel. Incredibly taxing! (For us, it was already a 1 hour 15 minute trip. Snowdrop fell asleep. I worried.)

We are lucky once at the airport. No lines anywhere. We are at the gate just a few minutes before they open the doors for boarding. 

The flight, on IcelandicAir, is more or less on time. And three hours later, we are back in Reykjavik. At the airport. Where it's raining.

We cab it to town in the gold chariot that should be transporting us, given the rates of cabs here. At least the driver is a speed demon (85 mph, on Reykjavik roads??) so we get to the hotel in good time. In 45 minutes. Past fields of lupines.

 

I switched hotels on us. I got a last minute deal on the Reykjavik Edition, which has a fabulous location, even though I could not justify the price of a good view, so we look out on... a building.

I'm not sure the switch was a good idea. The Edition is huge -- some 250 rooms. It's impersonal and the room is not as described on the internet, a fact that I point out to them very quickly, netting me a 20% discount. This is the trip of discounts for hotel mistakes! I'll take it! 

Being 2 hours behind continental Europe time is confusing. Though Snowdrop does not complain, I'm sure she is both hungry and tired. 

We have a dinner booking at the Seafood Grill for 7 pm. Which is 9 pm Parisian time. And yet, it will not ever grow dark tonight, nor the next night, nor the one after. 

(walk to to the restaurant) 

 

At the Grill, she orders the catch of the day -- Icelandic wolf fish. She finds it absolutely yummy! And the fries! If I eat the kale, can I have another order of fries? 

 

 

 

 We walk back to our room energized. And much to my amusement, we find the room had been rearranged in our absence, to be more inline with the description on the website. I know this sounds terribly fussy, but it was a question of seating: I picked a room that had a place for us to read during the day. And after dinner we did just that -- on the newly installed couch. How they found a spare couch is beyond me, considering that the hotel is completely full!

And on nearly the longest day of the year, we retire way before the partial sunset. To our credit, "sunset," such as it is,  comes after midnight here: at 12:04. If I thought I'd stay up to see it, I was wrong.

with so much love... 

sunshine and sunshine

Let's just say we are stuck on an 11:15 bedtime. Somehow I cannot move us to an earlier lights out. And yes, I have to admit it, I do not try very hard. 

We wake up late of course -- and this is fine too. You do not eat your croissant before 9 here unless you have an early appointment or a flight to catch. This time we do a better breakfast routine. Just croissants! And yogurt for me. (We have cherries and strawberries leftover in the room.)

Once again I give Snowdrop some options. She tells me that what she would really like is a walk to the Eiffel Tower. That's a good hour from our hotel, but she insists she is really up for a long walk. I like that -- the walk is familiar and lovely, even if it is a hot hot day. We always pick the shady side of the street.

(it should not surprise me how affectionate people here are in public, and yet it always does)

(gaga, someone's watering this plant from above!)

Passing the Rue Cler market rouses her appetite a little.

Can we get a baguette for a snack?

Luck would have it that we would be, right at that moment, passing a bakery that got first prize a few years back in the baguette competition of Paris. (Yes, they have baguette competitions. And croissant competitions, and countless other food and drink competitions.)

So, the Eiffel Tower, with baguette. Rare is the trip where Snowdrop doesn't do this pilgrimage to the symbol of Paris.

Here's a weird thing: in the spaces to the south of the Tower (meaning the green fields that are soon to be "improved"), it's pretty empty this morning. We find a small group of tables by a refreshment stand, buy some water, and sit in glorious shade, and watch school children go by. Not much else going on. It's lovely!

(in pairs, holding hands is obligatory)

Snowdrop is quite into clothes shopping at Petit Bateau, which has simple casual stuff for kids and adults alike. Since everything is 50% off, I'm not opposed to returning to a nearby branch of it. 

 

(eager) 

 

 

I live to regret this decision: yesterday she begged for a rain coat. (I don't have one! I always have to borrow mommy's!) We got one. In size 10. Which fits her just fine, even though she is a tall girl. But in this Petit Bateau, she finds a size 12. "I like a bigger one so much more!" Well okay, but to exchange it, I'd have to bring the other one here -- which is a 45 minute walk -- today, as we are leaving tomorrow. She looks with longing at the coat. "That's fine. I like the small one okay..." Wouldn't you do what I did -- leave the girl to watch her tablet in the late afternoon and make your way back to do the exchange? Of course you would!

Okay, lunch time. At Cafe Varenne. If she has her Eiffel Tower routine, I have my Cafe Varenne routine. I come here every time I am in Paris. Today we arrive on the early side of the lunch period and so we score a good table.

Do you want pasta? Beans? No, fish and fries! She is on a roll.

A trip to the caramel candy store (there are three people in my family who love these sweets and she is one of those three)...

Then to the Department Store (mistake number two: this girl who increasingly looks, talks, acts like a teenager, who loves texting her friend and trying on perfumes at the perfume counter, is absolutely crazy about toys still).

And now home. Gaga, you keep calling the hotel "home!" I do, don't I...

In the evening we eat at a new for us place -- Brasserie Lipp. The restaurant is actually old (open for business since 1880), well known, and very traditional, very French traditional. 

 

 

I chose it because I thought we would maybe stray into something other than fish and fries... Ha!

Snowdrop does start with a dish that is new for her -- razor clams. Which she loves. It's followed by a beautiful fillet of sea bass. Which she double loves. I opt for the Cod Brandade. I haven't had it since Ed and I spent summer weeks in Sorede. (A Brandade is a salted cod and potato mash and it originated in the southern region of Languedoc.) Honestly, I liked her dish better. Snowdrop tried mine and said -- it's good! But I'll stick with mine. Wise girl.

 

 

On the walk home, we pass over subway vents; she loves the burst of air, especially since she always wears shorts under a dress or skirt!

 

 

 

At the hotel, I request my bottle of bubbly wine, which they stored for me in their refrigerator. Yesterday, we passed a wine store and on an impulse, I asked about their non-alcoholic wines. They had quite a wide selection. This is France. Their wines a superb! I bought a bottle of white in the style of champagne. 0 %. I opened it in the evening. Sipping wine had been a lovely routine in my past. Why not rekindle those moments with a glass of this one! My expectations were high. I popped the cork, saw the bubbles, poured a glass. Ummm... no. To me it tasted like a somewhat dry fizzy apple juice. Nevertheless, it wasn't cheap so I wasn't going to waste it. 

The desk clerks were curious about it. Was it good -- they asked. I told them my opinion and invited them to try it. After listening to me rant about it, their expectations were low. And perhaps for that reason, they liked it! I told them they could have the rest. I think it will be funny if they pour themselves glasses at the desk -- the guests will (mistakenly) think -- typical French. Always with a glass of wine at the side!

 

I'm not even trying for an early night tonight. I have to pack. We want to read. We'll sleep in tomorrow and nap during the plane ride to Reykjavik. 

With so much love... 

 

sunshine and art

You do not need good weather in Paris. Sure, monsoon-like rains, in the style of the downpour I experienced here back in October are a bit hard on you if you want to walk from one end of the city to the other (especially when the metro floods and traffic is stalled), but showers, clouds -- these don't foul up your Parisian experience. Rain doesn't take away from the beauty of the city. 

Nevertheless, sunshine here is delightful. Looking out our windows in the morning, listening to the street washing outside (these days trucks provide water and the workers spray the streets and sidewalks with blasts from a hose), taking in the sparkle and shine of all in front of you -- that's just plain magic.

But here's the rub: this spell of sunshine comes to us with warm weather. No, let me rephrase that -- hot weather. Today we'll reach 87F, tomorrow 90F (that's 31C and 33C). If you walk the sunny side of the street, it's even toastier. So we treat this day as a summer broiler, but with the ambiance of a spring day -- meaning the kids are still in school (Parisian kids don't start summer vacation until July 5th), no one is off for their month-long escape yet. In other words, the streets are full of Parisians. At least in the non-touristy blocks.

The day starts with breakfast. This was a bit of a mess and so no good photo emerged from it. Our idea was to have some protein, some cereal (she wanted to try their chocolate one, I opted for muesli), and a small croissant each. The salmon portion and the cereal portions turned out to be huge, and a basket of breads showed up over and beyond the two croissants. Somehow a cup of hot chocolate appeared as well. Not wanting to waste stuff, I pushed Snowdrop to eat more. She did that, while the waiter engaged me in a discussion of his future study plans. Turns out he had applied to and got accepted at the University of Wisconsin, but was denied a visa. (He is not French, but from a country that is not favored by our current administration.) Understandably he is frustrated. Equally understandably, I can do nothing about this but empathize. If he was looking for reassurance from me, he didn't get it. What can I say except, on repeat, "I'm so sorry, hang in there."

And now we are off for our day in Paris. In the morning, we walk. 

In the afternoon, we go to the Louvre. This is Snowdrop's idea. She'd asked me if she could finally see the Mona Lisa. That was an "oh dear" moment for me. As a few of you may have seen, I never go to the Louvre Museum. I mean, yes, I've been to it. As a young adult. And I swear I took my daughters to it, though they claim otherwise. There are many many reasons for me to avoid it. I don't love art from the 16 - 18th centuries, which is the period most represented at the Louvre. (Of course, earlier sculptures and art objects also abound). I don't love it especially in large doses. If the Louvre had ten rooms, I'd go. But the museum has over 400 rooms with some 35 000 pieces of art on display (and another 465 000 stashed away). It has 9 miles of corridors. It's just too much.

And I don't see the point of going to see the Mona Lisa. Wiki says this about it: The Mona Lisa) has been described as "the best known, the most visited, the most written about, the most sung about, [and] the most parodied work of art in the world." Reason enough not to rush to see it again. If ever. The crowds are said to be beyond the pale. I'm sure most people who come to the Louvre have as their goal a snapshot of themselves by the Mona Lisa. The Louvre has started to cap the number of visitors admitted each day at 30 000. I would bet that 29 000 of them want to see this most famous painting.

But, the girl has a point. She has been to Paris now nearly every year of her life (I am that fond of this city) and I have never once suggested a trip to the Louvre. Time to let her have a peek.

Here's the issue though: I do not feel confident in leading her through it. What do I show her? How do I take on the task of allowing her to see the wonders of a place that just overwhelms me? Time to hire a guide. I can't stomach a group tour, so I hire Elli for a couple of hours. She lives in Paris and holds a PhD in art history. She knows the Louvre like the back of her hand. And I am hoping she is good with kids who take exactly one minute to study any particular piece of art (if that).

All this is reserved for the afternoon. Where to in the morning? I ask Snowdrop: to the left, along the river, or to the right, toward Notre Dame? She chooses left, and eventually we cross the river to the Jardin de Tuileries, and as long as we are there, can she maybe go on the merry-go-round? I'm fine with that. And I'm amused with myself because when I traveled with my own kids, I rarely gave them so much time to play. We did mostly serious stuff! Now, I see that my balance was off. Snowdrop laughs at this: she tells me grandmothers tend to realize the value of play! Certainly this one does! 

And speaking of play, on the way to the river, we pass the ice cream shop that Primrose and Juniper loved so much. Snowdrop wants to try their flower cone. She is hooked and delighted that this particular shop recently opened a branch in Chicago!

 

 

 

 (me too!)

 

 

Tuileries Gardens are... hot! And a bit dusty. Clearly Paris has had a dry spell. (It also is re-introducing the Olympic balloon for the summer. It's going up on June 21st and coming down on September 4th.) 

 

 

But the merry-go-round is lovely and the ticket seller, here for twenty six years, is as always, sweet and generous with extra rides.

Afterwards, the playground.

And a walk back to the hotel. But just for a few minutes! We need to grab a "lunch." How about crepes at the Breizh Cafe? She begs for a chocolate one. This is turning out to be a... chocolate day! (I order one with honey and lemon, so I'm no better.)

And then we high-tail it over the river again... 

 

 

... to the Louvre, where we meet up with Elli. 

 

 

Elli is wonderful. Truly wonderful.  She takes us to places that are quiet yet special. Many of the canvases have elements of Greek Mythology and Snowdrop surely can relate to those stories (she went through a Greek mythology  phase.)

 

(Did you know that the Louvre actually has a room of Impressionists? With almost nobody there because, well, few know about it?)

 

 

 

But, too, we want to see the three big ticket items: Winged Victory, the Mona Lisa, and Venus. 

The crowds for these and especially the Mona Lisa, are insane. Elli tells us this is a recent thing. Why did they grow so much? -- I ask her. She says -- people limit themselves to what they read on the internet. And of course Beyonce and the Da Vinci Code didn't help.

(We glanced at the painting from the side, away from the shoulder to shoulder onlookers, with just the guard moving the crowds along with his stern voice. )

 

 

 

 

 

 (Snowdrop, doing an impossible imitation of the impossible Venus pose)

 

Equally remarkable are the old walls of the fortress that once enclosed Paris. You can find these below the Louvre Palace.

I'm hoping Snowdrop will remember all the details and curiosities that Elli shared with us. Such a terrific visit! But, after two hours, Snowdrop is spent.

We walk out through what very much reminds you of an airport -- shop after shop of expensive items (even macarons!), and of cheap fast food (McDonald's??). And now we are out in the bright sunshine of Paris.

 (the Louvre -- or at least a portion of it)

 

She begs for a cab ride home. I stall her. "Let's cross the bridge first!" Okay... Can we get a cab now? We're near a bus stop -- let's do that. Okay... can we take this bus? No, it's not the right one.  I'd love a taxi! I need to get some money from the ATM first. Okay... are there any on this block? (I take her along streets where I know there aren't any.) Listen, how about if we stop at the Petit Bateau clothes store. You can sit while I look, okay? 

Snowdrop is energized by this idea. The girl never goes clothes shopping back home so it is an exciting activity. 

We almost make it back to the hotel, but not quite. We need a bathroom break! No problem: we stop at Les Editeurs -- yesterday's dinner place. I tell her -- I'll get a Peroni zero beer (which is the one non-alcoholic beverage you can find everywhere in Europe) while you find the toilette. Can I have something too? 

She settles for a chocolate molten cake because, well, it's just such a chocolate day. (I do also pick up some Belgian strawberries and French cherries from a grocer. I feel the need for her to up her fruit  and veggie consumption. I'm that kind of a grandma.)

In the evening we go to Seulement Sea. Her choice once again. All seafood. Oysters, white fish, fries for her, dessert.

And once again it's late. Last night, we did turn out the lights by 11:15. Tonight I'm aiming for 11! Small steps!

with so much love...