Day 1.5 Iceland

Everything is better after a nap. I got about four hours on the plane, and another four in the room topped me right off. Then it was time for my favorite spot and a necessary stop. My favorite spot is the Handknitters’ Association where you can buy lovely, hand knit (in Iceland) Icelandic sweaters, gloves, hats, and more. You can also buy little felted wool Christmas ornaments and other souvenirs. But best of all you can buy Icelandic wool from Einband (lace weight) to Plötulopi (untwisted pencil roving usually knitted 2-3 strands together for a lofty, warm garment.

On today’s visit I got lots of Einband for my friend Ariane, and one roll of Plötulopi for me. I want to check the gauge and color for my project before going nuts(er). Then it was time to gird my loins and figure out the local bus system so I could get to Elko (an electronics superstore) and buy an electrical converter and adapters. Yup. I was packed two days before I came here. I had a comprehensive list of the items I needed to bring. But then I second (and third) guessed myself and repacked into a couple of different bags to see which one fit the best. In the process I managed to leave behind all the adapters and the converter—and who knows what else.

But the good news is that I was able to download the bus app, figure it out, find a route, get to the bus stop, and buy a ticket in the app. I went to Elko, rigged up some pieces that meet my needs, and caught the bus back to the old part of town where I am staying. For most people, everything I just described would probably be common place and no big deal, but it was a revelation to me. My last travel alone in Europe was in 1987. In the eastern bloc and the Soviet Union. Before the wall fell. There were no cell phones, laptops, iPads—zip, zilch, nada. Everything came from Let’s Go Europe, paper maps, route maps at the bus stops, and most of all—foreign currency. The first thing you did on arrival in any country was to change dollars to the local currency—francs, pounds, zlotys, lira, you name it. Depending on where you were, you either changed in a bank or official money exchange, or in an elevator, guesthouse, restaurant or bar. In the Eastern European countries hard currency was king, and trading with the locals gave both you and them a fantastic rate.

Traveling now? I barely have money—much less a need to change it. Apple Pay rules, and the only downside to depending so heavily on tech is that when your battery dies, you are hosed. When I finally got the bus stop, purchased my ticket on-line, and was waiting for the bus, my phone was at 1%. The bus took 20 minutes longer to get there than it should have, and all the time my phone stayed at 1%. Finally the bus arrived and my phone lived long enough to give me my destination stop before it died. I bought my charging things and the kind staff at the store charged my phone up a bit for me before sending me on my way.

When I got off the bus and started to walk to my lodging I came across a venue called BrewDog. It was appreciably busy with locals so I figured it was good and reasonable. It was reasonable and amaaaaaazing! Wednesday is all-you-can-eat buffalo cauliflower night, and it was like no cauliflower—nor like any buffalo sauce—I had ever had. Topped it off with a Valkyrie Vandetta (sic) sour cherry beer with hints of hazelnut and whiskey, and waddled home replete.

Now I recharge  all my devices, and check my schedule for tomorrow before going to bed. I’m still tired and tomorrow is the first day riding.

Day 1 in Iceland

 When we were here last in May, I bounced off the plane full of energy, vim, and vigor. This morning I arrived 6:30 am, went smoothly through customs, and didn’t have to have anything shoved up my noes—huzzah! The bus took me from the airport to a stop practically across the street form the guesthouse where I am staying, and—with the luck of the Irish—I was able to check right in instead of waiting till 3:00 pm. Also quite luckily they were still serving breakfast, and I dropped my duffle off in my room and headed down to partake. 

As I sit here replete, I ask myself, « Where is my vim? Where is my vigor? Did I leave them on the plane? » I took the tried and true jet lag preventative (2 Dramamine, 2 melatonin, and a lorazepam), and I did sleep the whole flight, but I’m still quite woozy and sleepy. Maybe wine would have been better than lorazepam…Luckily I don’t have anything scheduled for the day except to get rested up for tomorrow’s first all day on a horse—oh, and to buy some more wool (plötulopi in the vernacular).Never can have enough Icelandic wool.

But for now, off to bed! 

Vegan cafe

Back in Austin for a week, doing things with the daughter. Today as I waited for her to get her hair cut, I popped in to a little coffee place down the block. The pastries looked divine, and I ordered a tuna salad croissant (for some inexplicable reason) and a decaf iced latte. I was asked my choice of milk for the latte and I went right to "whole". But they don't have cow's milk. I had the choice of soy, almond, oat, coconut, hemp, or rice. The person behind the counter helpfully suggested oat and I said "Sure!"

So now I'm sitting waiting for my order and I see a sign that says Everything is Vegan here. I am now both trepidatious and curious about what my "tuna salad" is going to look/taste like...

After eating...

It was delicious. It was chickpeas. It tasted like tuna if you don't actually eat tuna. There are lots things on their menu like "chicken salad", and "sausage kolaches", "ham and cheese croissant" "taco meat something-or-rather (I was so stuck on the words "taco meat" that I stuttered to a stop there and missed the bread type). Not sure _why_. Are they targeting non-vegans to show how like meat their non-meat (and non-dairy) items are? I would think it would be a turn-off for the vegans that eat here being constantly reminded of things they choose not to eat. Or is the assumption that vegans secretly crave meat? I am truly curious, so I go ask the owner.

The answer is simple--and I should have thought of it. Most vegans aren't vegan from birth. They know the flavor profile of ham. They know the difference between "taco meat" and ground beef. They make their own vegan "ham" at the restaurant, and the owner said that they would have no idea how to describe the flavor as other than "ham". It's not to convert people, it's not to trick people (which I absolutely NEVER thought), it's all about description. Apparently on the menu (as opposed to the small card in the pastry case which I saw) it says "chickpea tuna croissant". Were it me, I think I would call it "Chickpea of the Sea salad"--but maybe that's showing my age and millennials wouldn't get it.

Oat milk, however, is something I can totally get behind. It is really yummy and turned my decaf latte from standard to sublime. The haircut went well too!