From my Christmas 2007 visit to Reykjavik, Iceland.The shuttle picked me up from Hotel Borg at 15.30, and loaded me into a chartered bus with a few other people at the Reykjavik Excursions station near the massive Perlan. It's a 45 minute drive to the Bláa Lónið -- better known simply as "The Blue Lagoon." (Not the dreadful 1980 film starring Brooke Shields and Christopher Atkins, mind you.)
It was a fascinating trip. I watched the barren snow-flocked landscape hurtle by, all black volcanic rock covered with ice and snow. Large volcanoes lurked on the horizen, shaped like Stepford tits, plumes of steam pouring like smoke from unseen fissures in the crust of the Earth. Timeless. One can easily imagine NASA practising the moon landing in this terrain (which they did). Chances are good that Aldrin and Armstrong were vaguely disappointed by the Moon after taking in this landscape. Ha ha, I kid - but not too much. It's fascinating to watch as it drifts past, and it gets your mind and imagination racing, visualizing the explosive power of exploding rock and magma as it violently pushes upward and out, creating this alien world of volcanoes, geysirs, fissures, and steam. The Sun said its bless and winked out, leaving behind a pastiche of purple clouds. It was night, and the bus turned off the major highway 1 onto a weavey winter road. Ice crackled underneath the tires. The engine rumbled like an old man and my seat vibrated ever so slightly. I thought Bjork would be nice, and I plugged her into my ears. "It's so quiet ... shh, shh ..."
It was a fascinating trip. I watched the barren snow-flocked landscape hurtle by, all black volcanic rock covered with ice and snow. Large volcanoes lurked on the horizen, shaped like Stepford tits, plumes of steam pouring like smoke from unseen fissures in the crust of the Earth. Timeless. One can easily imagine NASA practising the moon landing in this terrain (which they did). Chances are good that Aldrin and Armstrong were vaguely disappointed by the Moon after taking in this landscape. Ha ha, I kid - but not too much. It's fascinating to watch as it drifts past, and it gets your mind and imagination racing, visualizing the explosive power of exploding rock and magma as it violently pushes upward and out, creating this alien world of volcanoes, geysirs, fissures, and steam. The Sun said its bless and winked out, leaving behind a pastiche of purple clouds. It was night, and the bus turned off the major highway 1 onto a weavey winter road. Ice crackled underneath the tires. The engine rumbled like an old man and my seat vibrated ever so slightly. I thought Bjork would be nice, and I plugged her into my ears. "It's so quiet ... shh, shh ..."
We arrived. I walked through the FREEZING COLD (it was 23 degrees with a blustery wind - felt like 5) past hulking lava boulders to the entrance. You can rent a towel and a bathing suit, and you get a nifty bracelet with a computer chip embedded in to lock and unlock your locker (and also purchase beverages at the little cafe next to the lagoon). Change, shower, and enter the indoor introduction to the water. And then ...
... Speechless. I just ... it's so ... I ... I have never in my life experienced anything like it. Ever. There were no words or thoughts with valid meaning in my brain except a single, sustained whisper that echoed back and forth for minutes. Wowwowwowwowwowwowwow My mind returned to a somewhat normal level of reasoning, and I went out into the hot water to explore the place.
It's rather large, and on average is about three to four feet deep. The water, true to its name, is a bright milky blue in color, from the thick soup of minerals and algae that leach in from the porous lava. 70% ocean water and 30% fresh water from glacial ice, it has a distinct salty tinge should any of it get into your mouth. On average, the temperature hovers between 100 and 110 degrees, though every now and then a mildly cold or a wince-inducing boiling current will brush up against your body. Your skin feels slick and healthy as it absorbs the ingredients, and steam filters from the surface, making everything around you transform into dark silhouettes from time to time. I found that I liked to walk on my hands, the mud and black gritty lava sand squooshing between my fingers as I pulled myself through the water. There was not a single cloud in the sky, and the moon looked as if somebody had rubbed it vigourously with sandpaper. Bordered on all sides by lime-encrusted black rock that somehow still managed to maintain a solid dusting of their Christmas snow. Passed the mud pots and pulled out a semi-frozen lump of silica mud and clay with little flecks of rock inside and smeared it on my face like a warrior of old. It was freezing, but my skin was thanking me as it tingled. Out past those pots was the most interesting feature of the Lagoon - the steam vent!
Rising out of the centre at a height of about three feet, it burbled, spat and sputtered boiling-hot water from its peak, each little drop leaving a wake of steam behind it as it hit the rock and became one with the lagoon. Being in its close proximity was quite a bit hotter than the rest. Sometimes it was a little too hot, but I was willing to suffer momentarily. It made an interesting sound - I likened it to little brittle marbles of sugar being flayed alive by a dying vacuum cleaner. I relaxed my body in the water, surrounded by nature and the weird and somewhat ominous lights of the industrial power plant that provides Reykjavik with all its power (steam, it's the way to go!). People from all over the world drifted about here and there, and a bright spotlight turned back and forth over the scene, turning everybody into black silhouettes. The monumental amount of steam from the vent (I'm talking monumental in every sense of the word) changed directions every now and then and would sometimes pass over you, coming like a freight train. Everything would become white, and that, I imagine, is what being inside of a cloud is like. I floated on my back and pushed off into the centre of the waters. I stared up at the sky. And - just like that - pfoosh, pfoosh, two little shooting stars rocketed through the sky. Hmm. Maybe I was on the Moon.
Made it home, hugging myself slightly on the bus. Come to think of it, do you know how I feel right now? You know that sort of dreamy, sigh-y, lackadaisical feeling you get after earth-shatteringly awesome sex, and you're just laying about, maybe smoking a cigarette or drinking a coupe de champagne? Just an overwhelming sense of well-being? That's how I feel. Maybe I just had sex with Iceland! Maybe ...
... Speechless. I just ... it's so ... I ... I have never in my life experienced anything like it. Ever. There were no words or thoughts with valid meaning in my brain except a single, sustained whisper that echoed back and forth for minutes. Wowwowwowwowwowwowwow My mind returned to a somewhat normal level of reasoning, and I went out into the hot water to explore the place.
It's rather large, and on average is about three to four feet deep. The water, true to its name, is a bright milky blue in color, from the thick soup of minerals and algae that leach in from the porous lava. 70% ocean water and 30% fresh water from glacial ice, it has a distinct salty tinge should any of it get into your mouth. On average, the temperature hovers between 100 and 110 degrees, though every now and then a mildly cold or a wince-inducing boiling current will brush up against your body. Your skin feels slick and healthy as it absorbs the ingredients, and steam filters from the surface, making everything around you transform into dark silhouettes from time to time. I found that I liked to walk on my hands, the mud and black gritty lava sand squooshing between my fingers as I pulled myself through the water. There was not a single cloud in the sky, and the moon looked as if somebody had rubbed it vigourously with sandpaper. Bordered on all sides by lime-encrusted black rock that somehow still managed to maintain a solid dusting of their Christmas snow. Passed the mud pots and pulled out a semi-frozen lump of silica mud and clay with little flecks of rock inside and smeared it on my face like a warrior of old. It was freezing, but my skin was thanking me as it tingled. Out past those pots was the most interesting feature of the Lagoon - the steam vent!
Rising out of the centre at a height of about three feet, it burbled, spat and sputtered boiling-hot water from its peak, each little drop leaving a wake of steam behind it as it hit the rock and became one with the lagoon. Being in its close proximity was quite a bit hotter than the rest. Sometimes it was a little too hot, but I was willing to suffer momentarily. It made an interesting sound - I likened it to little brittle marbles of sugar being flayed alive by a dying vacuum cleaner. I relaxed my body in the water, surrounded by nature and the weird and somewhat ominous lights of the industrial power plant that provides Reykjavik with all its power (steam, it's the way to go!). People from all over the world drifted about here and there, and a bright spotlight turned back and forth over the scene, turning everybody into black silhouettes. The monumental amount of steam from the vent (I'm talking monumental in every sense of the word) changed directions every now and then and would sometimes pass over you, coming like a freight train. Everything would become white, and that, I imagine, is what being inside of a cloud is like. I floated on my back and pushed off into the centre of the waters. I stared up at the sky. And - just like that - pfoosh, pfoosh, two little shooting stars rocketed through the sky. Hmm. Maybe I was on the Moon.
Made it home, hugging myself slightly on the bus. Come to think of it, do you know how I feel right now? You know that sort of dreamy, sigh-y, lackadaisical feeling you get after earth-shatteringly awesome sex, and you're just laying about, maybe smoking a cigarette or drinking a coupe de champagne? Just an overwhelming sense of well-being? That's how I feel. Maybe I just had sex with Iceland! Maybe ...
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