Happy New Year. In which I put my feet up.

A quick but most sincere New Year's wish for you, dear reader.

Let us continue our search for the best in 2018...

the best in others,

the best in ourselves,

and the best bargained memorabilia to enrich us all, every one.

Here is one last item fleamarketed at Kolaportið from a native Icelander, a talented craftswoman who proudly weaves her talent in bold and colorful cozy creations.

Walt Whitman once wrote, "the press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections" and I have often meandered the majesty of this world with those words in mind and those hopes in tow.

It is my resting winter tootsies, however, wrapped in their colorful Icelandic wool booties, that I hope are currently spreading comforting warmth far beyond my own home.

Afoot and light-hearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me leading wherever I choose.

Henceforth I ask not good-fortune, I myself am good-fortune,
Henceforth I whimper no more, postpone no more, need nothing,
Done with indoor complaints, libraries, querulous criticisms,
Strong and content I travel the open road.

The earth, that is sufficient,
I do not want the constellations any nearer,
I know they are very well where they are,
I know they suffice for those who belong to them.

(Still here I carry my old delicious burdens,
I carry them, men and women, I carry them with me wherever I go,
I swear it is impossible for me to get rid of them,
I am fill’d with them, and I will fill them in return.)

For the continuation of Whitman's "Song of the Open Road", visit the Poetry Foundation site.

poetryfoundation.org/poems/48859/song-of-the-open-road

Iceland, episode 7. In which we fish and chip.

I wanted to wrap up our visit to Iceland by tying up a few loose ends and linking you to a few recommendations.

First, I want to highly recommend our wonderful inn, the Reykjavik Residence Suites and the amazing Port 9 restaurant that provided our nourishing foodie breakfast every morning.

My only warning is to remind you (unlike the website) that there is no elevator, so you are on your own with whatever-sized luggage you have chosen for your adventure.

Yes, that was the preamble

to a cautionary tale.

I took that first luggage-laden step with a little too much gusto and not enough spring and you could hear my knee pop down to the harbor. My ambulatory expeditions were unfortunately characterized by a sophisticated (some might say "sexy") little limp throughout our entire stay.

rrsuites.is

The second image I call "View from (near) the Top."

It occurred to me that I hadn't shared any of our views from the observation decks atop Hallgrímskirkja Church. Mari climbed the extra two flights to the exterior observation deck for this colorful view of Reykjavik while I remained on the 12th floor videotaping from the observation area open to those of us with clumsily popping knees.

And now for a drumroll...

the best fish & chips ever...

Icelandic Fish & Chips!

My previous favorite was at Brighton's Bankers Fish Restaurant (London, episode 12) which is now a very close second. (If you recall, however, the cod and haddock at Bankers is sourced in Iceland.)

Located near the harbor, the bright, colorful, and very clean bistro was most welcoming and most welcome after our full final day. Maybe it was the organic spelt batter that put this one over the top, but the jalapeño dipping sauce didn't hurt, either.

While doing my due diligence online I let out a little whoop-whoop when I discovered that there is now a location in midtown Manhattan. It's now on my list!

Check out the site for the temptalicious full menu.
fishandchips.is

Mari and I were treated to several beautifully bright days during our Icelandic stay and our final full (fleamarket Sunday) day was one of the best.

We enjoyed a visit to the Reykjavik City Museum's Settlement Exhibition following a quick lunch of fleamarketed lamb hot dogs. The engaging and thoughtful exhibit lays out Iceland's history on the very site of its earliest settlement.


Visit the museum site to learn more and to plan your visit.
borgarsogusafn.is/en/the-settlement-exhibition

After enjoying the educational tour (exiting through the gift shop, of course, where a colorfully tempting cookbook of local cuisine and a volume of Icelandic poetry joined my souvenir satchel), Mari and I joined a very spirited fray on Bankastræti Street in full celebration of the summer weather, street water slide included. It was, after all, at least 60 degrees!

These last two marvels are bright and beautiful Sunday afternoon harbor views. We couldn't have asked for a better natural summer spectacle to conclude our visit.

Finally, where would I be without this parting shot? Thanks, again, to my traveling companion for riding shotgun so spectacularly.

I'll be back to begin a new adventure with you in 2018.
I think I'll begin with the fleamarket that has topped our list for many years.

Whether you are traveling near or far, by plane or by car,

enjoy the many gifts (and regifts) the holidays have to offer.

Iceland, episode 6. In which nature abounds.

I love this photo.

As ever, there's a story and there are many reasons for my simple but sincere declaration of love, but you already know all that.

This was at one of the first scheduled stops during our Saturday tour, at Seljalandsfoss Waterfall.

Our guide told Mari to stretch out her arms then snapped this souvenir photo while I was recording footage for my iMovie and trying to avoid the precarious clash of electronics and mobile mist.

Seljalandsfoss is a popular tourist stop and for good reason. I've said this previously, but popular tourist sites are popular for good reason, but they are also crowded for the same reason. You need to understand that you can always carve out a little corner for yourself so you can have your own moment.

When I see Mari's broad smile and infectious excitement in this photo I easily erase the hundred or so other tourists surrounding us that morning.

If I look carefully, I can see a line of tourists walking behind the falls in the nebulous mist at left, but that's their moment.

As we traveled the Ring Road that scenically circumnavigates Iceland's circumference, Mari and I saw pretty much what we had expected: a lot of everything.

Iceland's varied and variegated landscapes merged together during our ten-hour tour in dazzlingly lush greens, saturated blues, and eye-popping pops of wildflower color.

Our frequent stops for impromptu photo shoots never disappointed.

This is both of us (thanks, Sergei!) a safe distance from the splash zone of Skogafoss waterfall, our next stop. This majestic beauty is the result of two glaciers butting heads a safe distance away.

If you are touring on your own, you'll want to make a delicious stop at the incredible cafe at the Hotel Skogafoss. Incredible for the spectacular view of the falls and for its hearty local cuisine. If you successfully climbed (and descended) the 370 steps up to the top of the falls, then you deserve a hearty bowl of the meat soup or beautifully grilled Arctic char. Even if you admired the view from the splash zone as Mari and I did, you still deserve a lunch break.

One of my favorite stops on the tour was at the Dyrhólaey lighthouse, sitting above the previously pictured black sand beach. Having always loved lighthouses, I was thrilled to discover that this unusually modern beauty was celebrating 90 years of service.

In my younger (and less physically vulnerable years) I had climbed the 228 steps to the top of Atlantic City's Absecon Lighthouse for some amazing views, but the red-capped Dyrhólaey is unfortunately not open for climbs.

Mari caught this little guy roosting (meditating?) quietly nearby with her camera (or whatever it is that puffins do quietly when alone in the grass).

Reynisfjara, a second black sand beach with its amazing natural backdrop of columns and stacks of natural basalt that have for centuries inspired many an Icelandic troll myth, inspired us for some memorable photos as we reached the end of our southward journey.

Although my collector's gaze wouldn't be in full attack mode until the following day at Kolaportið, I did manage to secure an addition to one of my oldest and dearest collections that tropical (at least by Icelandic standards) early summer afternoon.

I have been collecting beach sand since my earliest summer family visits to Jersey and Portuguese shores and the mysterious glisten of Reynisfjara black sand was a welcome addition to a waiting bottle at home.

The sand bottles are currently on winter hiatus and will be out on display again next summer.

Remind me to give them a blog moment.

 

This final photo is the view towards the beach from Vik's Reyniskirkja Church (above). It was the last stop on our colorfully comprehensive coastal tour. While our tour was by no means comprehensive of all the natural wonders Iceland has to offer, it was a journey replete with a beautiful bouquet of an eclectically fertile landscape.

I look forward to sharing some final photos and stories from our short, but very memorable trip to Iceland next time.

Iceland, episode 5. In which we explore and browse.

Lest you think all Mari and I did in the exotic land of Naddodd, Ingolfur Arnarson, and Leifur Eiríksson was knick-knack shop at the flea, do laundry, and eat burgers, I wanted to share another favorite photo. Mari and I spent a fantastically full Saturday touring the South Coast with an expert guide who filled in a lot of history and local information between locations.

When our airport shuttle bus left Keflavik International and began the 30-mile trip to Reykjavik, we began seeing acres and beautiful acres of these remind-me-of-Texas-bluebonnets wildflowers. We later learned from Sergei that these purple wildflowers were called nootka or lupine. When we sighted this abundantly lush field of nootka waving us over for a private photo shoot during our Saturday tour, we asked Sergei to pull over.

The fact that you can also see the brilliant white glimmer of an icy waterfall with volcano and glacier also in the distance will alert you to the fact that the Icelandic landscape is alive and ancient yet constantly changing.

Over the hundreds of miles we traveled in the capable hands of our Russian transplant tour guide that Saturday, we were treated to a lush and colorful kaleidoscope that no single photo could possibly capture, but our striking floral selfie comes pretty darn close.

Once again (Paris, episode 10), I successfully relied on the Viator site to search for and book an international tour.

Although we were initially wary of a private tour and of spending the entire day in the hands of a stranger, our confidence in TripAdvisor's reliable listings and the glowingly positive (all 5-star) reviews for Sergei's (owner of Top Iceland Tours) knowledge and friendly customer service, gave us the confidence to take a chance.

For more details on our tour and to book your own personal tour, visit the site.

viator.com/tours/Reykjavik/South-Coast-of-Iceland-Private-Day-Tour-from-Reykjavik-by-Jeep/d905-19155P2

Before I get too far along in my prismatic memory landscape, let me return to our Kolaportið fleamarket adventure one final (maybe) time. Among the local craftsmen displaying their creative talents was the proprietor of this booth where Mari and I were awed by the commemorated spiritual beauty of these delicately carved walrus tusks. (I should have known better, but) I asked the talented artisan and very convivial vendor the cost of the grinning figure at left (I especially love the charming Chiclet smile), desperately wanting to add the folkloric figure to a bubblewrap pouch and ultimately my own eclectic souvenir collection at home.

Even without currency exchange translations, there were still too many zeroes for my budget.

With the promise of a return visit and a hearty shake of the hand, I was on my way to browse the rest of the market.

May Chiclet Warrior stand stoutheartedly until my return!

Another souvenir item I was unfortunately unable to knock off my list was an Icelandic dictionary.

A creature and collector of habit, I cannot get away from my love for language (nor for books) even when traveling. You may have noticed quite a few used books on display (or simply stacked and inviting precarious perusal) throughout my souvenir market photos. While I would typically enjoy browsing (or unstacking and re-stacking Jenga-style in this case) for a bargain, I was sticker-shocked to find most used books going for $25-50. 

That's 5,000 króna!

(or a dozen Nutella donuts)

Among the select souvenirs we are currently enjoying are a few remaining sticks of "Midnight Sun" scented incense I plan on reordering from the Hidden People Iceland website. Be sure to stop at the colorful and wonderfully-scented booth to view and learn about all the natural and artisan-crafted products on display (even the packaging and wrap is beautiful).

hidden.is

If you do have a few hours on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon and want to meet some wonderful locals (from parts near and far), if you are still looking for the perfect souvenir for yourself and relatively inexpensive gifts and treats for friends and relatives, or if you are in need of a place to warm up and perhaps walk off your Friday night burger or fish fry, then you will want to ink Kolaportið fleamarket onto your itinerary.

The fleamarket building is steps from colorful Reykjavik Harbour and surrounded by enough shops, restaurants, and pubs to keep you fueled and frolicked all day.

More on our fabulous (non-fermented) fish fry next time.

Iceland, episode 4. In which I speak in tongues.

This charmingly colorful little guy was among the first items liberated from the overflowingly eclectic mix of souvenirs, collectibles, and ephemera on display at Reykjavik's weekend fleamarket.

Now, I know what you are thinking. 

Why the heck would you shlep yourself and your American-sized luggage all the way to Iceland to buy a tiny little Barcelos rooster candle holder that is obviously not from Iceland?

There's a story.

Among the many talented, lively, and friendly vendors Mari and I had the pleasure of interacting with that Sunday morning, I was pleasantly surprised to find a Portuguese transplant with a definitively diverse collection of used household items for sale. It's just the type of booth I love discovering and diving into and this barely three-inch tall souvenir rooster, colorfully emblazoned with the traditional hearts, flowers, and bright blue base was first to meet my collector's gaze shortly after the market opened at 11:00 AM.

But there's more to the story of this very traditional very symbolic souvenir of my family's homeland (as you suspected there would be)...

As I picked up this miniature version of my own full-size Barcelos (authoritatively perched atop a rooster display cabinet in our kitchen 4,000 miles away), the charming booth proprietor started to inform me that it was a traditional souvenir from Portugal. The huge smile already on my face grew ever larger as I detected her familiar accent and then cut her off by proudly proclaiming, "Eu sou portugues." I was emocionado to call upon my mother tongue as I embarked on a colorful exchange with my new friend, a Portuguese native who had emigrated to Iceland long ago and was a regular weekend vendor of bric-a-brac (my favorite hyphenated fleamarket find in any language) at Kolaportið. I discovered that my compatriot was originally from Aveiro, a colorful and ancient city of canals along the coast of Northern Portugal with which I was most familiar from childhood family visits.

After our exchange (which included the exchange of Icelandic króna for the new miniature addition to my coleção de galos), Mari and I were wished a pleasant and safe journey and I was encouraged to take my wife to visit my family's homeland.

I know. It's on my list.

I'm not embarrassed to admit that a visit to Reykjavik's Kolaportið fleamarket was near the top of our travel wish list as soon as I discovered during my obsessive travel planning that there was indeed a fleamarket. We also arranged our summer itinerary to include a weekend stay because, as you know, we are serious about fleamarketing.

One of the first photos I snapped that Sunday morning is the one above, just inside the market entrance. As you enter the market and pass the first room of stalls and shops on the right, you will find yourself in the large main area of the building with fleamarket stalls on your right and the entrance to the food market at left. More out of curiosity than a need to stock up on fermented shark or spectacularly speckled puffin eggs, this foodie foraged the food market first to soak up some very colorful local flavor (and snap these first few photos).

The flea turned out to be the best location to purchase locally-harvested lava salt which was in abundance at street souvenir shops in a wide range of flavors and prices. An intensely savory and naturally smoky bottle of black "volcanic" sea salt made its way into my ever-expanding salt collection which is threatening to take over an entire kitchen drawer.

My mini Barcelos now stands perched atop a wall cabinet with its previously posted (London, episode 9) distant cousin, but he was not the only addition to a favorite collection that day.

Mister Hani also stands about three inches high and is a gently glazed ceramic rooster in a traditional Icelandic design.

Purchased from a local vendor's discount table for all of 100 króna (about a dollar), Hani made the bubble-wrapped transatlantic voyage to South Texas with his fleamarketed Barcelos brother and a third colorful sibling plucked from a St. Petersburg souvenir shop early in our summer adventure.

The rooster brothers are patiently awaiting their own blog moment, so maybe I'll scramble up a kitchen photo shoot soon.

Mari and I had another lovely lively language exchange a few days prior to fleamarket Sunday at Reykjavik's Hard Rock Cafe of all places. As you know from our Vienna visit, Mari and I enjoy treating ourselves to a taste of "home" when we are lucky enough to find a Hard Rock when traveling abroad.

I especially enjoy sampling the "Local Legendary" burger to get a taste of local flavors and inspiration. My last was the Vienna legendary topped with ham schnitzel, but I had previously passed on the not-so-tempting haggis-topped local in Edinburgh. Expecting some kind of surf and turf combo or smoked fish component to my Friday evening burger, I was instead treated to a sundry sampling of toppings on my organic beef burger including smoked bacon marmalade, pickled onion, roasted wild mushrooms, and Béarnaise sauce.

Hvað?!

Perhaps the seemingly motley mix was a reflection of the growing eclectic nature of the local melting pot population itself. As we were greeted by our spirited young waitress that busy evening, Mari and I detected an accent and I responded to her request for our drink order in my best Spanish (with my charming Portuguese accent, of course). A beautiful smile came over our waitress as she relaxed her hurried Friday night frenzy a bit. We asked her where she was originally from and she responded with a very enthusiastic, "Sevilla!"

From there, our evening became much more than simply having a burger at the Hard Rock. We conversed with our very attentive and friendly waitress in Spanish throughout the evening in the middle of downtown Reykjavik surrounded by tables of local friends who had gathered to celebrate the end of a busy work week and by a diverse mix of out-of-towners, tourists like us who were enjoying familiarly danceable classics, affectionate fellowship, and the local Béarnaise.

We set our sights on more local sites next time.