Snúður

There’s a thing someone told me once that appears to be true of midwesterners- specifically Minnesotans.  As someone with a lot of Minnesotan kinfolk (and someone who lived there until age seven), I think it makes total sense.  When it’s time to wrap things up and head back home (you do this while you are seated), you announce your intention by slapping your own thighs with your hands and saying, “Whelp.”  

That’s where we are- time for *slap* Whelp.  Time to head back home.  

We’re coming to you live from the Foss Hotel in Reykjavík, having arrived here in town just after lunchtime.  Cas and I bade farewell to Kiddi and his very kind and good niece, as well as the rest of our tour group.  We all got our room keys here at this very large hotel and disappeared into the relative anonymity of a big hotel in a capital city.  There are seven people sleeping under this roof tonight who have been part of every day of our lives for two weeks.  I don’t often write about my fellow travelers, because none of them signed on to a trip to be my fodder, but this group was pretty great.  It’s always a roll of the dice when you join with a tour group, but I really liked this bunch.  I also really liked that the group was this small.  Change approved.  Small groups are part of our future search criteria.  

Today started in the Shæfellsnes Peninsula, and today was the day that we learned more about Snúður.  Apparently, Snúður is a pastry that looks like a Danish or a hole-less frosted doughnut.  Yesterday, Kiddi found a bakery that served a lovely Snúður, then proceeded to make a zillion references to his Snúður.  It sounded like a terrific bit of innuendo.  Never touch another man’s Snúður!  Hey, are you looking at my Snúður?  Today, we dropped by another bakery, and he did his best to convince us all that we should each enjoy a bit of Snúður.  I decided against ordering one- I didn’t want to be accused of anything bordering on bad Snúður behavior.  

Another feature of our day today was a visit to a black sand beach.  It was definitely not your typical summer beach moment.  We were wearing warm shirts, a fleece middle layer and rain jackets.  We had our rain pants over our regular pants, and we had our hiking boots on.  We walked out to an observation point and then back to the waiting vehicle.  Too cold.  We’re all kinds of spoiled on good Icelandic weather.  Also, we have seen plenty of beaches on this trip, and we wanted to be warm.  

That took us all to what our guide called The Black Church.  Funny thing…  When you are talking to a Texan and you say Black Church, this is not what we think of:

Regardless, it’s very pretty and kind of strange.  There may be more churches in Iceland than waterfalls (though more study is needed), but they are routinely painted in white, cream or occasionally red.  Not black. We didn’t spend a lot of time at Búðakirkja- I think the whole group is spoiled on the good weather, and this bit of more typical Icelandic weather brought us down today.  

But that was pretty much it.  We stopped by a bakery and heard a few well placed Snúður jokes, then we wheeled back to Reykjavík.  Kitti dropped us all at the hotel, and Cas and I went about the business of finding a great option for dinner.  We actually got the last reservation at the spot where he loved the fish stew on the food walk two weeks ago.  Man, it’s been a minute since we got here.  We headed that way this evening and celebrated that, as of today, we have been married 9 years and 11 months.  One month from today, we have our official tenth wedding anniversary.  What a great celebration this trip has been.  I have jammed all the dirty clothes I can fit into my luggage and will be ready to head to the airport tomorrow when it’s time to go.  Then, it’s back across Santa’s backyard and into the US Pacific Northwest, and on to Dallas.  Whew.  

Time for one more sleep behind the blackout curtains.  Time for a toothbrush and a little shuteye, last night in Reykjavík style.  Good night, friends!  Check out our photos: tinyurl.com/DunlapIceland