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.

Iceland, episode 3. In which we tumble dry.

Mari and I arrived in Iceland this past June full of expectant excitement, anxious anticipation, and a pair of American-sized suitcases loaded with worn (and re-worn) favorite clothing.

It was the 10th day of our twenty day adventure, so if you recall my travel laundry algebra equation, you realize that my five shirts, having each been worn twice, were due for a launder (as were a few other items of which we need not speak).

Fortunately, there was a plan and that plan included a short walk from our B&B (more on the relaxing Reykjavik Residence Suites next time) to The Laundromat Cafe, a fun and colorful pub with a basement lounge and laundry room.

Mari and I enjoyed a leisurely first evening in Iceland getting our laundry done while sampling some local food (and beverage), lively music, and friendly atmosphere.

Should you find yourself in need of sustenance (and clean underwear) while in Reykjavik, check out The Laundromat Cafe.

Visit the equally fun and colorful site to browse the menu before your visit.

thelaundromatcafe.com/en/home

At top is one of the first photos we snapped the following morning during a refreshing walk along the bay of the Greenland Sea. The Sun Voyager sculpture is a popular local landmark erected in 1990 to celebrate Reykjavik's 200th birthday. Even on a cloudy morning, the stainless steel sculpture managed to reflect the northern clime's natural light along with the promise of a new day and a new adventure. I highly recommend a walk along the bay to start your day or to enjoy the setting sun.

Before I get a little too far along in my reminiscences, I thought I might interrupt for a quick word of warning about something I don't usually mention in these romanticized posts except to occasionally hint at with cleverly concealed $ymbology.

Don't say I didn't warn you... Reykjavik has been the most expensive location we've ever encountered in our travels, especially for dining out. Even casual dining and snacks were surprisingly expensive despite the consistent warnings I had read during my trip planning. An example? Mari and I treated ourselves to a Nutella donut at Dunkin' Donuts during one of our outings because, well...

Did I mention Nutella?!

Nutella icing!

Nutella filling!

Four dollars later and we weren't disappointed. That's four dollars per donut, coffee not included.

A standard entree at The Laundromat Cafe (cheeseburger special with fries for Mari, meatballs with mash for me) averaged thirty dollars per person (beverage not included).

You need to eat, of course, just be prepared for króna sticker shock.

Mari and I have learned during our travels to enjoy locally-sourced fresh and prepared foods available at local markets, too. Sainsbury's in London and Føtex in Copenhagen are familiar foodie favorites. One of the many reasons we enjoy staying at B&Bs is to take advantage of kitchen access when possible.

Enjoying local cuisine, shopping with the locals, and finding creative ways to stay on our trip budget are all essentially enjoyable elements of the adventure!

After that refreshing morning walk along the bay, Mari and I spent our first full day wandering the very walkable, very colorful, very tourist-friendly Skólavörðustígur Avenue leading up to the previously pictured Hallgrimskirkja Church.

Here we are posing with a couple of friendly locals.

Local artisans have a wide variety of crafts on display in the colorful shops and restored houses along Skólavörðustígur. There is a correspondingly wide variety of prices as well, but something for everyone's budget and taste. Several souvenir items and gifts found their way into Mari's market tote including a colorful map of Iceland emblazoned on a linen tea towel.

Have I mentioned my

tea towel collection?

Prior to our visit, I had wondered what souvenir items I would find in our exotic new travel locale, but you will find just about anything you can possibly collect in the touristy shops in downtown Reykjavik.

Local items that we especially enjoyed browsing included pottery, jewelry, and wool sweaters. Living in the tropics of deep South Texas keeps us from savoring souvenir sweaters when traveling, so Mari and I kept our souvenir shopping to a minimum browse on that first day. Besides, we were eagerly anticipating Sunday's fleamarket.

Above is a sampling of the many photos I enjoyed snapping during our Sunday morning visit to the indoor fleamarket. We found a wide range of new and used items as well as a colorful assortment of local delicacies and a talented trove of artisans and friendly vendors.

New additions to my rooster collection next time, including a Barcelos rooster fleamarketed from a lovely Portuguese émigré.

Iceland, episode 2. In which we break the ice.

The summer of 1981 changed my world view (and entertainment life) forever. While my 1970s childhood was richly colored with amazing novels (with eternal thanks to the librarians at The Warner Public Library and to Sister Immaculata at St. Teresa's School), my annual viewings of The Wizard of Oz remained black and white, even after Dorothy's whirlwind arrival in Oz. It was finally in the fall of '81 (unfortunately, a few months after that glorious Royal Wedding) when my dad found a deal great enough to invite our gigantor color TV console (stylishly encased in a wood-laminated MDF cabinet) into my world.

Did I mention that it was color?!

Cue the angel chorus!

Not only did we find room for that massive hub of the entertainment world in our cozy cocoon of a (paneled, of course) basement, Pai decided the new TV deserved the best treatment and decided to replace the weathered roof antenna with a streamlined cable TV cable. Back in the heyday of cable television, before original programming and streaming and on-demand services, you would enjoy a handful of box office "hits" every month and you would continue to enjoy them over and over until the following month where you could enjoy them again on a less frequent basis as the new month's hits took over prime time. It was during the fall of 1981 that I acquainted and reacquainted myself with what would eventually become three of my favorite films: 9 to 5 (the sassiest comic trio EVER), Xanadu (the best musical EVER), and Somewhere in Time (the most romantic movie EVER).

My superlatives are based on a minimum of 30 viewings so they are absolutely official.

The first opportunity I had to combine my love for travel with my love for film was a scenic drive sophomore year in college up through Michigan to Mackinac Island. I had recently discovered that Mackinac Island's very own Grand Hotel was the setting for Somewhere in Time's fictitious Grand Hotel, where Christopher Reeve would travel back in time to re-fall in love with Jane Seymour and where I absolutely had to step foot after witnessing their on-screen time-travel seduction countless (minimum of 30 viewings remember) times.

That Fall Break and my 10th anniversary Mackinac weekend with Mari are whole other stories, however, and definitely not the story behind this favorite travel photo.

The story behind our June 2017 photo shoot on the southern coast of Iceland with a Russian tour guide is not quite as complicated, but there was a movie involved, a recent favorite.

At first, I was a bit baffled by the impending release of 2013's Secret Life of Walter Mitty remake, mostly because Ben Stiller's work has always been hit-or-miss with me and I really loved the 1947 original with a hilariously winning and magical performance by Danny Kaye. Turns out both films are remarkable reinterpretations and extensions of James Thurber's (very) short story with Stiller's film a welcome surprise that quickly became a personal favorite, very personal. I think it was already during our walk back to the theater parking lot that Mari and I both agreed we needed to visit Iceland, a beautifully featured filming locale in Stiller's very thoughtful, mature, and personal dramedy.

It is when Stiller's existential exploration hits Icelandic shores that my trip planning instincts kicked into high gear and a new travel list took form. Logistically, for anyone out there with an Iceland travel itch, you will want to take advantage of IcelandAir's no (extra) cost stopover program for travel between the US (and Canada) and 37 European destinations. Traveling round trip to Iceland from most US locations was ridiculously cost-prohibitive, so we decided to append one of my famous extended layovers to a European summer adventure that landed us in Copenhagen after a Baltic cruise (more on that wonderful city and amazing fleamarkets another blog series, I promise).

While we put Iceland on our travel radar at the end of 2013, it seems a few (million?) other travelers did as well. While doing my due diligence as travel guru, I found several tour companies offering Walter Mitty tours replete with visits to the scenic locations from Stiller's film. Even The Price is Right started giving away trips to Reykjavik about once a month!

Kudos to Iceland's Board of Tourism!

We found plenty of signs during our five days in Reykjavik of the recent tourist (and construction) boom. While we knew not to expect amazing Aurora Borealis displays in early summer, the abundance of competing construction cranes was not exactly a welcome replacement, just a sign of progress, I suppose.

Kudos to Iceland's Board of Tourism?

Now, what kind of host would I be if I didn't tease you with a fleamarket photo?
Tales (and photos) from the Kolaportið fleamarket next time.

Iceland, episode 1. In which zeal consumes me.

Mari and I have driven past Sutherland Springs countless times on drives to Austin and Dallas by way of an alternate route we affectionately call "the short cut" although the interstate-avoiding scenic detour actually adds six miles to our journey. Over the years we have discovered along the route a favorite minimarket that sells locally made habanero pickles as well as a local grocery that sells six-packs of saccharine-sweet Tab in its classically-groovy memory-inducing cans. We always look forward to our leisurely short cut drives during the holidays to visit family and friends.

The First Baptist Church is just ten miles west of our detoured leisurely path. The tragic events of last Sunday left me at a complete loss. Prayers felt inadequate.

The above photo is my best snap of Hallgrímskirkja Lutheran Church, Iceland's largest and tallest church. It was hard to miss less than a half mile from our Reykjavik inn, but also difficult to capture in just one simple photo. What was even harder to miss, however, was its simple beauty. Although just barely 30 years old, the Church of Iceland was under construction for over 40 years. The majestic house of worship rises nearly 25 stories as its clean graceful stone lines explore the skies and command you to look towards the heavens.

On a cloudy early summer day, Mari and I wandered the observation decks in search of the perfect photographable view. I am always in search of a perfect view, however imperfect my own vantage point may be.

As I sifted through recent travel photos of our exciting trip to uncharted (for us) territory, wonderful memories and samplings of souvenir stories began germinating in my brain. Then, as I thought about posting another italicized call for love and concern for one another, it just felt empty like so many empty promises. Instead, I offer you a photographic springboard for your own moment of reflection.

Although I do often share travel, foodie, and fleamarketing recommendations within these hypertextuals, Mari and I are inevitably drawn to houses of worship during our travels. We admire their architecture and their history. I admire their story. I admire the challenges often faced not just in their physical creation, but the challenges also faced by fellow faithful simply celebrating their religious beliefs publicly.

I admire.

I admire those who embrace faith in times of struggle, for it is just so damn easy to have faith in times of peace.

I admire those who forgive freely, for I struggle to be merciful with those I have selfishly judged unworthy.

I admire the faithful departed who created living monuments worldwide, beautiful places for reflection and worship that allow diverse peoples to commune together.

Like my search for the perfect view, perfect fleamarket, or perfect meatloaf,

my own exploration of faith continues without end...

Christ Church Cathedral, Dublin

St. Louis Cathedral, New Orleans

Mission Concepción, San Antonio, Texas

Church on Spilled Blood, St. Petersburg

Temppeliaukio Kirkko, Helsinki

St. Paul's Cathedral, London

Basilica of the Sacred Heart, Notre Dame, Indiana

Hagia Sophia, Istanbul

local family chapel, Mykonos

Amalfi Cathedral, Italy

St. Peter's Basilica, Vatican City

Santa Maria de Montserrat, Catalonia, Spain

Templo Expiatorio de la Sagrada Familia, Barcelona

Cathédrale Saint-Sauveur, Aix-en-Provence, France

St. Stephen's Cathedral, Vienna

Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris

London, episode 20. In which London tis in my memory lock'd.

I begin this final installment of my sentimental London journey with a visit to a location brand new to us although it has been open since 1980. There is always something new to discover in an ever-expanding city like London and a visit to Covent Garden this past June was in order (and on our itinerary). We have a vibrant young couple from Dubai to thank for capturing our souvenir photograph at the florally festive market entrance.

Covent Garden is a centrally located shopping center offering visitors a great place to meet, shop, eat, and enjoy regularly scheduled crafts and antiques markets.

Unfortunately for this pair of road-weary fleamarket travelers, we were unable to plan a layover that coincided with the regularly scheduled Monday antiques market day, but Mari and I enjoyed an afternoon admiring the handiwork of local crafters in the Apple Market. The jewelry, artwork, photography, and crafts were evidence of the enthusiastic creativity of the people of London.

We did time our midweek visit, however, to coincide with Londoners' favorite midday pastime and were thrilled to come across the Whittard of Chelsea Tea Bar on the lower level of the market building.

A seemingly endless variety of beautifully fragrant and neatly displayed teas greets you as you wind your way through the cafe to your cozy table.


There's simply something about afternoon tea that makes my day. It's not just the scones, sandwiches, and (in my case) carrot cake, either.


Ask Mari and she'll be the first to tell you I make a mean cucumber sandwich (my secret is jalapeno cream cheese) and tender raisin scone (thanks again to Tea Time), but I think it's the warmth of the tea and the perfume it spreads throughout your entire body as you savor each sip that is the lasting and restorative appeal of tea.


You can't rush tea. And you can't use a mug, either. You don't need to have a collection of tea accoutrement or a cabinet in which to display such recollected fleamarketed finds, but making the time to savor a seemingly simple sip of herbaceously fragrant tea is one of life's great pleasures.

The occasional
slice of carrot cake
don't hurt, either.

Explore the fastidiously well-organized site to plan your own visit and to sign up for an informative newsletter.
coventgarden.london


While our most recent London layover also failed to coincide with the bustling Saturday antiques marketplace on Portobello Road, we found quite a bustle midweek as well. Aside from sidewalk and street vendors, there are many old and new shops along Portobello Road whose exterior quaint coziness belies the actual depth of collectible density barely browsable inside.

It is practically impossible to turn around without knocking something over, so be on the alert!

A final London souvenir and tea collectible found its way into the remaining space in my backpack.

I think we probably have enough forks at home to feed the neighborhood, but my collector's gaze was immediately drawn to this beautifully displayed set of Sheffield dessert forks. Truth is I would have bought them if they hadn't been stamped and if they hadn't been displayed in the satin-lined box. Like our miniature "Michigan spoons" purchased a few years ago at a bucolic yard sale, our "tea forks" have become a fast favorite. The slightly wider tine on the left edge is perfect for breaking the surface of a frosted tea time treat and securing said delicate bite while it travels its sacrificial journey to my waiting palate.

Mari and I marked another first off our London travel list with a visit to the historic and legendary Selfridges department store. The original location on Oxford Street rivals any major department store not only with its size, but with its impressively intricate architecture. Whether you are a fan of the PBS series about the origins of this revolutionary century-old institution and the colorful American entrepreneur behind the name or just want to spend some time browsing in the beautiful Beaux-Arts buiding, Selfridges is a must.

I was especially thrilled to find a book department upstairs that was well-stocked with new and familiar titles as well as local favorites. I was also happy to spend time in the stationery department where I found a nice variety of pens to browse. Books and pens?! Thank you, Mr. Selfridge! The food hall on the lower level was also an inviting place for a pair of foodie travelers in need of some shopping sustenance and to plan our souvenir shopping strategy.

If you visit the site, you will not only find information to plan your own shopping visit, but you will be able to shop from the comfort of your cozy armchair as well.
selfridges.com/US/en

The final day of our London layover was also spent exploring another location new to us and one which appropriately closes my London blog series which began, if you recall, with reminisced memories of 1981's royal wedding and my sentimental attachment to Lady Diana Spencer who became not only a princess, but a leader and role model for countless admirers the world over.

Subsequent visits to London yielded a visit to the historic site of the 20-year-old's royal wedding to Prince Charles at St. Paul's Cathedral and also to Westminster Abbey where the Princess of Wales was buried just 16 years later. With our most recent visit in June, however, Mari and I celebrated a beautiful early summer afternoon walking through Hyde Park to visit the Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Fountain. Open now for over ten years, the memorial fittingly embraces the welcoming and nurturing spirit of a woman I have long admired.

The freely flowing fountain invites relaxation and reflection. On our weekday visit, we found families enjoying the summer sun while children and adults alike waded through the curved fountain paths winding their way along a cleverly designed oval path.

Often, checking off a location on a travel list or sticking a pin in our travel map comes with great pleasure and even pride, but sometimes a simple act of remembrance can bring with it even more longing and inspire future travels. Savoring Shakespeare's sage wisdom from the conclusion of The Tempest, I chose not to burden my remembrances, but was happy to conclude this summer's travels with a bright and sunny afternoon of quiet reflection at this very peaceful site in the midst of a busy world capital.
royalparks.org.uk/parks/hyde-park/things-to-see-and-do/memorials,-fountains-and-statues/diana-memorial-fountain

I'd like to extend my moment of reflection to give thanks to my always adventurous and ever-supportive travel companion. I love this photo of Mari wading the gentle waters of the memorial fountain. I love her smile and the way the gently cool waters have left their mark on her jeans. The photo (and the stories behind it) are gentle reminders of why I love to travel.

We're spreading the love, exchanging cameras, and fleamarketing in Reykjavik next time.