I left Thorshovn around 11:30 a.m. this morning in what I thought would be a small plane, but it seated around twelve people including the fourteen year old who I had met earlier in the week. I met him when on a tour with Cathleen, a neighbor near the Jorvik Hotel, when we stopped and met his mother, a niece, a brother and a laughing baby.
He was a great tour guide in the air, except at times when it was too difficult to hear him. One time I did understand when he pointed down through the window of the plane, to the edge of the water and said not too long ago a polar bear happened to have been lost and ended up there; it was rescued and returned to its homeland, I think is what he said.
We left the north part of Iceland, the Arctic Circle, where it has been cold, even though it had warmed up a bit the last two days, however, landing at the Akureyi airport, the extreme weather differences were noticed immediately. We were in wool sweaters and coats, and the folks at Akureyi were in short sleeves and shorts. My wool sweater became a burden, instead of the life saver and good investment it was prior to our leave.
That’s not all, everything was green.
Then those of us who went on to Reykjavik got on a bigger plane with stewardesses dressed traditionally, who were very pretty Icelandic young ladies. They offered drinks and a small piece of chocolate.
It took only forty-five minutes to Reykjavik over two separate mountain ranges that still had snow on the tops.
I am now in the Capital-Inn, a hostel at the edge of the city where I’ll be until June 11. I have already met four exchange students from Northeastern University in Boston, studying at Reykjavik University.
Then there’s a group of wild young men who have already warned me they are loud. I met the ring leader when he came out of his room looking for tape for his pink plastic girl friend. She was loosing air, and needed to get patched.
I offered my scotch tape and was invited into their den, where they were primed for a night out. It’s a four day stag party, that the English lad pronounced, “stig potty.” I had to ask him over and over what he said. “I’m speaking English to you lady.”
“Okay, but you’re not saying it right, and I gave him the American version. They said the four days in Iceland is in celebration of the groom who is getting married in September.
“Aren’t you starting out a little early?” I asked.
“Oh, will have another one in September.”
“Okay then, I’m going to mention that on my blog and I want your names.”
When I got settled into my room, I received an email from my flight instructor Arngim Jacobsen, who told me he will be in the cockpit on Atlantic Airways, when I fly to his homeland, the Faroe Islands in ten days.