As I mentioned, I have been in Iceland (again, please don’t break into my house and steal my stuff). I am in Paris now, but took copious notes on Reykjavik and can tell you everything you need to know about the culture (you’re welcome).
Reykjavik is the most adorable city of all time. It looks as if Ikea came to visit and vomited up a town. Everyone speaks English, except the one weird cab driver who looks exactly like Barney Rubble from the Flintstones and didn’t understand a lick of what we were saying. Also, shop keepers are super nice to tourists ’cause we are the only ones who will buy their itchy wool sweaters and viking hats with plastic horns.
You can have Kentucky Fried Chicken, Taco Bell, Rice Krispies, and Doritos, but you can not have a Big Mac. McDonald’s used to operate out of Iceland, but there was a big uproar over cooking french fries in whale blubber so Ronald took his cheese burgers and left the country. You will also not see policemen, playgrounds, non-fat milk, or dogs over thirty pounds. These things probably exist but are kept hidden on a Viking war ship somewhere in the Atlantic.
Ninety-three percent of homes in Iceland are heated with geothermal energy. I was given this statistic by a taxi driver. I have no reason to believe he would lie, but then again, if I were a taxi driver I would make up crap all day long.
Basically, there is so much volcanic activity that all you need to do for energy is drill down a ways, capture some steam, use the steam to heat water and then pump it through pipes in your house. It works incredibly well. So well that when it is 15 degrees outside, it is 132 degrees inside. You have to wear a parka, boots, hat, mittens, and four layers of long underwear to go to the market, but once you get to the market you have to undress and buy your groceries in panties and a bra.
We saw lots of Christmas decorations while we were there. Apparently, Icelanders love to celebrate the holiday. In a country with only four hours of daylight during the winter months, strands of twinkly lights are a must. They love Santa, and family gatherings were they get to eat whale and sheep testicles (a delicacy I did not try), but they don’t care so much about Jesus. Again, my information comes from taxi drivers, but one driver told me even the Christians think going to church every Sunday is too big a committment.
I have to go now ’cause I am in freakin’ PARIS! My rule is that I must eat four croissants a day, and I am about due for my third.
stories for my mom 