Sea legs

(photo by Cheryl-Anne Millsap)


When the TravelZoo fare alert landed in my inbox, I was working. I had deadlines to meet. I didn't have time to do any wishful thinking. But the Icelandair sale was so good I stopped what I was doing and within minutes had booked the trip.
So I would have to write another story to pay for it. So what? It was just too good to pass up.

The package included a three-hour whale-watching tour. Whale-watching excursions don't guarantee a sighting but the chances are excellent that in spring or fall that the weather - and the sea - will be unsettled.

On the morning of my trip we started out on glassy seas under partly cloudy skies. But an hour into the loop, the winds rose suddenly and the seas began to roll. What followed was epic. People all over the boat turned green and threw up. Entire families were huddled on the decks or below, clutching sick-bags and retching. The boat was tossing so hard I had to wrap my arm around a pipe and hold on tight. I zipped my coat around me and made sure I could keep my eyes on the place where the overcast sky fell into the icy ocean.

By the time the trip ended its three-hour run, I was one of the few left standing.
This was a total surprise. I've never spent much time on rough water and I always harbored a secret suspicion that I would be the first to fall when the boat started rocking. Who knew?

Of course, there were no whales. They were safe below the surface. Only silly humans would come out to play on such a day.

But, now I know. I know something we all learn sooner or later: when things get rough sometimes all you can do is keep your eye on the horizon. Sometimes, all you can do is hold on, focus on the place where the sky meets the edge of the world and ride it out.

Delta Blues in the Land of the Midnight Sun

I haven't had this much musical fun in another city since the jazz band in Budapest found out I can sing St James Infirmary.
American music is big all over the world. But uniquely American music is a passion for some in other countries. Particularly Jazz and the blues.

While I was staying at the Hilton Nordica, just out of the main city area, the hotel was hosting Bluesfelag Reykjavikur. The Reykjavik Bluesfest.

Each night the hotel bar filled with the sound of the blues - done with an Icelandic twist. Men dresses as Jake and Elwood walked around in shades and fedoras. Long vintage Cadillacs were parked out front, some decorated with American flags. They advertised than an actual Mississippi Blues singer Marquis Knox would be appearing. I watched the Lame Dudes rock out to the Reykjavik Boogie. (Video on YouTube.)

Of all the things I expected to see, the annual Reykjavik tradition of celebrating an oh-so-American musical style was totally unexpected.

And that kind of lagniappe is exactly what keeps me flying.

Sea Baron lobster soup. Perfect.

Tonight, after a tip from another tourist who'd read about it in the New York Times, I made my way down to the Sea Baron. The little shack on the harbor is the place for authentic Iceland lobster soup.

The place is tiny, with seating for no more than 20, if everyone gets very friendly. The choices are slim. Lobster soup or whale and fish kebabs.

I ordered the soup, pulled one of the small barrels with cushioned tops that serve as stools, and sat down at one of the three long single-plank tables.

In a minute my food was delivered. One bowl of soup. One basket of bread and butter. One ubiquitous Egil's Gull beer.

It will go down on my list as one of my favorite meals. Nothing fancy. Just delicious food served simply.