Reykjavík seems like a really fun city, but with the ring road ahead of us we didn’t have much time to explore it: just 24 hours, including sleep. And wouldn't you know it, our day there was cold and rainy so the urge to cocoon indoors was extra strong, but we fought it like champions. Plus, no food in the Airbnb gave us that extra motivation to get out and explore.
So off we went, jet lag and midnight sun working in our favor, and saw a playful city that doesn’t seem to take itself too seriously.
We poked our heads into a church, ate a decent but scandalously priced dinner, and watched a few minutes of Iceland’s World Cup game. They lost, but cheerfully, with lots of Viking claps and painted faces reddened with cold and beer. These are hardy people--you have to be, to live here. What's one World Cup defeat compared to an Icelandic winter? Or an Icelandic summer, for that matter?