Rein or shine, a dinner you’ll deerly love
After exfoliating a layer or five off my face at the Horn, the Iceland wind had found its way into my hollow stomach, so we headed to Kaffi Hornið, reputedly the better of Höfn’s… Continue reading
Category Archive: traveling
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Ice gets up early
I’m not a morning person. “Grab hold of your attitude” I admonish myself, and try to remember the satisfaction of looking at the clock after a productive day and finding it’s only 11:00.… Continue reading
The angel’s a jerk, the dog is proud, and the plane landed backwards. Time to go.
I’m no stranger to the jet-lagged delirium of a trans-oceanic red-eye flight. I dropped a class in college because the professor’s preposterously long, slow, erudite sentences were verbal valium. And I’ve seen The… Continue reading
Iceland has ponies. Laughing ponies.
Iceland is aptly named, sure, but I’d hate to give the impression that it only has frozen water. It’s also got ponies. Ponies who like frozen water. Ponies who pose, oh so pretty.… Continue reading
Now that’s just far too pretty. This is Jökulsarlon.
“Did you make it to Jökulsárlón?” asked my friend Jessica, when she heard I was in Iceland. The name didn’t ring any bells. “Don’t get on the plane without seeing it – really!” This… Continue reading
Hornafjordur. It won’t notice when it kills you.
Someone lived here. That’s the thing that boggled my mind, as I leaned into the wind, peering at the fuzzy shapes of dunes through the mesh of my cheap hooded shirt pulled across… Continue reading
Words didn’t happen in Iceland, but photos did
Iceland, for me, was a vacation from traveling. I had few cultural experiences there (one that threatened projectile vomit), met few Icelanders (guys in a bar explained how to avoid dating one’s cousin… Continue reading
I don’t believe you, but I love you anyway
They tell me this is one planet. All the same one. But I’m not sure I believe them. Because I remember walking down a backstreet in San Salvador, where children stopped their… Continue reading
Juan the Priest
He made the pupusa girl smile. Her mother laughed, and I probably blushed. Their reactions were the most common, smiles and laughter, and I saw them again and again on face after face… Continue reading
Joaquin Media Barba
The buses all had places to go, and gas to burn to get there. The expressionless faces of passengers (some things are universal) turned towards me through rattling window panes as I waited… Continue reading
