Travel

While whispers of elves, threats of eating shark meat preserved in human urine, and requests to say hello to Björk preceded my trip to Iceland, there was also a sense of beguiling magic that added to my anticipation when I visited the island country in late October.

My adventure began in Reykjavík, the country’s capitol. Clean and pristine, its primary thoroughfare, Laugavegur, is the city’s main artery. Off this drag is where all things vibrate: restaurants, bars, shops, art galleries and hotels. Many of these businesses become makeshift venues for the Iceland Airwaves Festival, which takes place annually on the third weekend in October.

Next to the brisk wind chill, one fact about Iceland, and about Reykjavík in particular, strikes quickly: this place is expensive. The U.S. dollar’s weakness aside, almost everything is imported to the country, so nothing comes cheaply. Beers are $10, and a casual meal without cocktails starts at around $30. Exploring Reykjavík in the daytime, however, can be an affordable endeavor. You can walk around and window-shop, discover graffiti-strewn buildings, take in a chilly stroll by the ocean, and people-watch it seems readily apparent that the city is overflowing with a hotness factor, both among the Icelandic locals and the international visitors.

While Reykjavík is invigorating in the daytime, its heartbeat is palpable during its long nights. The city’s residents know how to party, and during Iceland Airwaves, free food and drink are available nightly. We decided to hit the Icelandair Takeoff party, where the theme was taken to a campy but charming extreme. The deafening sounds of airplane engines piped through speakers as we entered, and once inside, we “checked in” and received bagage claim wristbands before walking through "security," where a goofy wand-wielding “security guard” tapped me on the bottom for good measure. Flight attendants served screw-top wine and meals encased in plastic. We sampled a pilsner-styled brew called Viking, along with medicinal-tasting menthol, caraway and salt vodkas—icky. Stick with the beer.

Reykjavík is also a good place to meet artists and friendly locals—all of whom speak English, by the way—and share recommendations for a good time. I met Haukur S. Magnusson from the hardcore band Reykjavík! and asked him to point us toward a nosh spot away from the live show mayhem. He suggested an eclectic new restaurant/bar called Boston that offers traditional Icelandic fare. I ordered Plokkfiskur m/þrumara og smjöri, which is a fl avorful fish stew served with rye bread and butter. It has a thick and hearty cream-of-wheat texture, and is composed of seafood, potatoes, mystery vegetables and assorted spices. As Magnusson explained, the dish is a weekly staple at households across the island—a catch-all meal that’s analogous to how Westerners might prepare stew using leftovers and everyday pantry items. Add a glass of wine and my bill was around $37.50. Needless to say, this was my first and final sit-down meal of the trip.

My remaining bites were spent eating crappy six-bucks-a-slice pizza, and embarking on late-night jaunts to a most excellent hot dog stand called Baejarins Beztu Pylsur, where lamb hot dogs are served with crisped, sautéed onions, tangy mustard and a sweet remoulade. For less than four dollars, this becomes a frequented spot for some of our most interesting (albeit drunken) conversations, as well as a lot of last-minute cajoling for the seemingly prevalent late-night tryst. There must be something in the water, or maybe like the rest of the world, in the booze.

Before slinking off for a rendezvous, there are many haunts to hit. It’s imperative to visit the NASA nightclub, which has booked such well-known acts as GusGus and Brazilian Girls, and the Reykjavík Art Museum, which keeps its galleries open to art lovers while the bands play. My favorite venue is Iðnó, with its homey, lounge-like front parlor—a cozy, intimate place to watch live music—but really, there’s plenty to enjoy if you just follow your ears. Iceland appears to have an obsession with dance, trance and electro DJ styles, but you can encounter music ranging from soul to hip-hop to hard-core. While more than half of the 200 acts booked during Iceland Airwaves are Icelandic, there are plenty of internationally renowned groups to catch.

Once the bands finish their sets, the after-party circuit begins. The underlying purpose seems to be threefold: party ’til dawn, drink strange liquor, and pursue the omnipresent hook-up. (Did I mention how hot everyone is?) One can’t escape a wee-hours crawl without sampling some Brennivín—the grimace-inducing “Original Icelandic Schnapps” is more a bitter than a liqueur, so it packs a lot in its 75-proof punch. Satisfied at achieving one after-party goal, I headed for bed—alone, thank you very much— to rest up for my countryside excursion.

Those in the know recommended the Golden Circle bus tour as a can’t-miss attraction. The tour route traverses Geysir (from which the name Geyser originates), Gullfoss (the country’s largest waterfall), and the beautiful vantage point of Þingvellir, where the Icelandic parliament Alþingi was established in 930, and where America and Europe’s tectonic plates are still slowly separating. Tours run at about $110 per person—a little steep for me, so I coerced a few people who didn’t have late-night flings (and a few who did), and rented a car for $100 so we could travel at our own leisure. Of course, choosing this route means knowing how to drive a stick-shift on top of that, neither the maps nor the highways are very well marked, but you can do a lot worse than getting lost.

There’s a stark, desolate beauty to the Icelandic countryside: strange rock formations resemble angular sculptures, and the landscape, mostly devoid of any green lushness save for some weird scattered moss, recalls the surface of the moon, except for the jets of steam that rise up from the earth at random.

Speaking of steam, no stay in Iceland is complete without plunging into the Blue Lagoon. Aptly named, the water is an otherworldly aquamarine color, and the natural hot spring cures hangovers. I’m also convinced that Reykjavík tap water contains some magical potion to keep headaches at bay. During Iceland Airwaves’ annual Blue Lagoon Hangover Party, buses take partygoers from most of the hotels international DJs pump out the grooves while attendees attempt water-dancing and navigate hot spots around the lagoon. There’s also a sauna and serve-yourself mud station. I donned some mud and sank into the bliss, wishing I had more time in Iceland. Although the only elves I found were by way of graffiti, the mystical quality of the place is enchanting, indeed.

Travel notes
		Frugal Traveler Tips . Pack a flask and purchase alcohol at Keflavík Airport’s duty-free shop. The legality might be questionable, but locals and visitors alike share nips from flasks throughout the night. Besides, it’s a nice way to get to know your fellow travelers— and there’s a lot of getting-to-know-you going on in Reykjavík. . Rise early to indulge in the free breakfast offered at most Reykjavík hotels, and pilfer a snack for lunch. . Plan your visit to coincide with Iceland Airwaves (www.icelandairwaves.com), which takes place in late October during the more affordable off-season travel time. A festival pass (around $130 if bought in advance) grants priority access to nearly a week’s worth of shows—an affordable way to soak in Reykjavík’s stellar nightlife. Icelandair also offers packages with discounted flight, hotel and festival passes included (www.icelandair.com).