Friday 23 July 1999
This is the last day of our trip and we all agree that this is devoted to sightseeing. We have decided to explore “Reykjavík” by day as well as by night. Hagen is really keen on visiting some museums and is as usual very well informed about what to see. I guess he studies tourist brochures secretly, but his suggestions are good and after breakfast we find the museum that we have passed several times the last days.
Only a few streets from the campsite we find the “Ásmundur Sveinsson Museum” that almost looks like a giant igloo. The artist is one of Iceland’s most well known sculptors and he designed the museum himself. Here we find silence and room. We are asked to take off our coats and set out to explore the place. The sculptures are very stylish, down-to-earth and beautiful. They describe life from the local craftsman to mother earth. Some are more powerful in their expression and others especially the wooden works opens a lively discussion among us – “the sailors” as we name ourselves.
After some hours we continue to the city center by bus as it is raining again. We walk the streets, visit shops and try out woolen sweaters, mittens and feel the softness of the plaids. It is hard to decide what to buy and judge if it’s a bargain. When did I look at wool in Denmark? Not recently so we decide to look further before buying.
The next plan is to visit a volcano show that plays several times a day in a small cinema. The queue to that event goes out to the cozy patio and the cinema looks like it’s built in somebody’s home. While we are standing in line, Børge can hear that the guy in front is studying in Århus, which is the city Børge and I are living in. Børge asks the guy if he is from Århus, and when he turns around I recognize him instantly from the running club and have a nice chat with him and his wife about the small world of ours and the small city of “Reykjavík” in particular. We aren’t here to wait in line so we decide to skip the show.
We split two by two. Børge and Martin walk by the pedestrian street while Hagen and I investigate if the Art Museum is open. Unfortunately it turns out not to be. We pass by a wedding and look quietly into the church before we continue along the lake to the very special designed city hall. It’s located halfway out in the lake with a long wooden footbridge where one can’t avoid enjoying all the duck and human couples that are romanticizing. It is a real path of love that leads directly into the city hall where a 4-5 square meter large three-dimensional model of Iceland appears in front of us. That’s impressive.
ere we can see all ravines, mountain passes, cities and glaciers and senses the proportions. It’s funny to find the places we have been on the island. Hagen and I agree that this is something one shouldn’t miss so off we go to the café on the pedestrian street to fetch Martin and Børge before the city hall closes for the day. That was a wise move as the two other “sailors” also found the 3D map striking.
We walk back to the campsite by foot and have a chat with some young Danish scouts who really are having a good time. Seems like it’s party time tonight and we feel in the mood as well. Actually our plan was to say goodbye to the city tomorrow, but as we have to departure very early from Keflavík airport, we find it wise to party tonight and the desire for dancing is very present. Back at the campsite we take a shower and “doll ourselves up” and repeats the walk along the waterfront from yesterday’s evening.
The sun is not in the mood today, but in return we got company by the German girls and a Danish journalist with his American girlfriend. We “Sailors” (Martin, Børge, Hagen and I) would actually like to go by ourselves this last evening, but anyway our company turn out to be really pleasant.
By recommendation we are told that the place to be is a small pub in three floors with a dance hall on top. All 12-14 of us finds a large table and gets a beer. The mood could be higher and as time flies and beers are we get drunk a bit, we examine that more and more people arrive to the constantly livelier third floor.
Hagen and I decide on moving the party to the top floor and as the music isn’t really our style we mostly stand and recognize the selection of nice objects. Suddenly the DJ seizes the wrong pile of records and things change. Now U2, Simple Minds and George Michael conquer the dance floor together with us and the pulse is beating and sweat is running. We feel no restraint and our circle fill up a large part of the dance floor where new friends meet. Germans, Swedes and Icelandic are included and the night turns to day. On the pedestrian street one sense the smallness of the city. It looks like Sunday mornings after party in a provincial town like my town back in Denmark.