Cataloging my April ’17 trip to Iceland. Learning how to spell “cataloging.”

(I know I’m super late on both of those.)

Welcome to Reykjavík!

Learn the language:
Amma = Grandma
Ut = Out
Jokul = Glacier
Foss = Suffix for waterfalls 

Here I am driving like a real amma because our rental car was a stick-shift Suzuki Swift we named Taylor. Luckily, James is a great teacher and an even more patient boyfriend. More patient than the school bus that passed me up, at least.

Some quirky things, like a faucet that washes and dries your hands, Icelandic art, and a rare Icelandic Vietnamese restaurant. The rest are photos of Seljalandsfoss, which is a foss literally off of the main highway. It’s an average sight for Icelanders, but pure grandeur to us Californians, who typically summit hikes for these views.

The Blue Lagoon

We went to the Blue Lagoon on my 26th birthday, and ended up doing all of my favorite things:

DCIM100GOPROfloating…

DCIM100GOPRO… applying face masks…

DCIM100GOPRO… and proving that I’m the biggest GoT fan for being the only Lagooner to identify David Bradley!

 DCIM100GOPRO  DCIM100GOPRODCIM100GOPRO DCIM100GOPRODCIM100GOPRO DCIM100GOPRODCIM100GOPRO DCIM100GOPRO

♥ ♥ ♥

Captured: Me wearing a fur hat from the opera house, pondering how pickled and weird the fish breakfast would be, and collecting black sand.
Not captured: Us sneaking 9 vials of organic material from Iceland to America without declaring it through customs.

Captured: James looking dashing atop another everyday, astonishing Icelandic hill.
Not captured: Ice-winds slapping us in the face, likely for the crimes we’ve committed.

I conclude this post with a stream of consciousness:
I’m no good at taking pictures on trips (or ever), because I tend to rely on the ol’ eyeballs and hippocampus duo. That being said, I would love to photograph more. That’s why I need a camera, or a phone that didn’t belong to dinosaurs for starters. I’d also like to have cute pictures of myself on my travels, like my friends and Instagram girls have. But it requires so much vanity to have someone quit their life to take the perfect photo of you, wait for you to assess it, retake it, reassess, repeat, and oh, it just sounds like a horrible way for you to admit that your social media post is worth more than their compounding time. Do Instagram girls feel this way? Do they really go to Thailand to practice Warrior III, or to look back listlessly down some alleyway? I didn’t do those things in Iceland. I mostly cracked up watching James eat the best bread and salt-butter of his life, tried to comprehend his upbringing as he listened to “Don’t Dream It’s Over” for the first time in a Big Lebowski-themed bar, cracked up again every night as we yelled “lights ut!” in our best Icelandic, and again on one of those nights when we ate convenience store food in bed before we’d retire in the dark and agree to be boyfriend and girlfriend.

Iceland: the best views, people, and salt-butter.

It could just be us,
Liza

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