Good morning! If I knew the Icelandic morning greeting I would type it here, but I am too lazy and short on free Wifi time to bother googling it. I write this from the Reykjavik international airport, after a six-hour flight from Minneapolis. I should begin this post by stating that I had had delusions on grandeur regarding my absent "packing post," so I'll just include a couple of pictures of that here. Maybe I'll be more detailed later on, but there was no time to photograph and document everything.
 |
| Layer-ers: dresses, cardigans, blouses, and camisoles |
I actually fit everything into two bags, which is quite an accomplishment for me. Most of the space was taken up by my quasi-Euro wardrobe, which I have more or less put together with thrift-store finds and a few tried-and-true accessories. The only brand-new item I packed was a pair of new sandals (Thank you, Tracy!).
 |
| More tops, a long skirt, scarf, sarong, zippered tote bag, and two pairs of versatile & comfortable shoes |
My last few days in the United States were mostly consumed with last-minute preparations for this trip; in retrospect, I realize that some of these should have been taken care of long before I got around to them. Tanning, for instance. Italy is going to be hot, and I realized that I would benefit from a base tan, especially since I've had almost no sun exposure lately because of the grey and nasty weather. On the day before my trip, (yesterday? Two days ago?) I decided to tan in a maximum strength bed for 12 minutes. I also repeated this process about 10 hours before I got on the plane... Okay. A word of advice: don't be like me. Within a few hours of my first tan, I could feel the burn all over my stomach and back, but I still went back to the tanning booth the day of my flight. Long story short, you know that girl, reeking of aloe and vinegar sitting next to you on the plane? Guilty as charged.
My initial flight to Brussels has a layover in Iceland (hence this post) and I am already struck with affection for this beautiful little country. I'll be spending a week here before I return to the United States, but just being in the airport is a thrill to me. I had actually hoped to do a foreign exchange program in Iceland after high school, but my plans fell through when my potential scholarship funds crashed alongside the Icelandic economy. It all worked out, though. I went to college instead of going abroad; four years later I have a degree and the time is *finally* right for traveling.
 |
| Trekking backpack and carry-on (which had to be checked due to weight) |
Oh yeah. It occurs to me that I have not explicitly stated why I'm flying to Brussels, and what I'm doing before I begin teaching. Since my brother Anthony is currently backpacking around Europe, I purposely booked my flights so I could meet him in the window of time before he returns home and before I start teaching. For this reason and due to money, I will be flying into Brussels, hopping on a train to Paris, and spending a few hours there before we fly to Rome the next morning. (Admittedly, this is a really roundabout way of getting to Italy, but believe me when I say that this saved me a significant monetary amount on airfare). We'll be staying two nights in Rome, one in Florence, and one in Venice before heading over to Slovenia/Croatia where we'll be hanging out with relatives. Our final destination together is Budapest, Hungary where I will begin my orientation and Anthony will fly home.
Speaking of flights, my flight to Reykjavik was the most comfortable and smooth that I've had thus far. For anyone who hasn't flown with Icelandair, it is so charming. First off, everyone on the flight was given a sweet Icelandic water bottle, a pillow with a bilingual translation of an Icelandic lullaby, and a blanket with the message "Miss our hot springs? Warm yourself with this instead" embroidered on it. I couldn't sleep much on the flight, but that had nothing to do with discomfort and everything to do with emotional anticipation and the fact that every seat was equipped with complimentary movies, music, and shows. It also included a real-time progress report/map on the flight. Between bawling my eyes out during
The Time Traveler's Wife and cracking up at
Office Space, I took some aerial shots from the window.
 |
| Greenland |
After touching down in Iceland and waiting to get my passport stamp, I was going insane with anticipation. I purposely got in line for a booth on the far right because I wanted the cute guy to stamp my passport; he welcomed me to Europe in his Icelandic accent, and here I am now, waiting to depart for the rest of my European journey.
 |
| Stamped and official, courtesy of the gorgeous Icelander |
Even though it's morning in Iceland, it's night in Minnesota. Despite my ignorance to the morning greeting, I do know how to say "good night" in Icelandic, thanks to a sign printed on my headrest of the plane:
Good night is "goða nott" in Icelandic.
It has a soft and cuddly sound.
 |
| Bring on the adventure |
How can one not fall in love with a country with that kind of charm? Anyway, I will end this post now. Until next time, goða nott!
No comments:
Post a Comment