Travel Series Part 1: Viking Strippers

I'm pretty sure Sean and I are on an international terrorist watch list as of last night. In the span of an hour we managed to book 4 flights to 3 different countries within the next 2 months (now THAT is some math I can handle). By the last transaction, our credit cards started weeping. One of them jumped right off the table and into the freezer where it plans to hide until Spring. But these things simply had to be done. Sean's Graduation in Ireland, going home for the holidays, a 3 day weekend in Amsterdam...okay, so technically the weekend in Amsterdam didn't have to be done but when the flight is only an hour long how can you resist? Back in Boston, it'd take me an hour just to remember where I parked my car the night before.

If you checked out my travel page, you realize how sadly lacking it is. I never blogged about my trips to Ireland, Italy, or Iceland (apparently I only like to visit countries that start with the letter I?), which is a shame because I have roughly 3298304835901298 pictures from those trips. I want to be sure to share the details of my past excursions before I embark on my new ones. Currently, I'm on a 3 hour break between classes at school. I am holed up in the library surrounded by art students who are all 5 years younger and infinitely hipper than I'll ever be. Also, the reality of the upcoming assignments I have just smacked me in the face today. hard. they left a handprint.

So what better time to escape into my past trips than now? Grab your passports and join me in Iceland...the land of moss covered moon rocks, reindeer burgers, and my arch nemesis: the Volcano that ruined my life. (that's a little dramatic but seriously, it sucked)

Our trip to Iceland was really just an 8 hour layover between Boston and London. A pitstop on the way to our new life.


I like to call this photo: I had a quarterlife crisis and now I sleep on airport benches like a homeless person. Alternative title: Mom and Dad, I need 20 bucks.

Overnight flights are never fun, particularly when accompanied by crying babies and a stewardess who uses my elbows for target practice with the drink cart, but Sean and I were so excited when we left the airport and started to see the sights of Iceland. (To be honest, I was on a secret mission to find Ekyjlykdlsfdvkdfjang and give it a piece of my mind. You don't scare me Volcano. So what if you spew liquid hot magma, I've got an amazing cocktail gown I never got to wear. and it's YOUR fault. Don't mess with me)





Iceland reminds me of the Moon, but green. We decided to spend our layover taking in the very best Iceland had to offer, by soaking in the Blue Lagoon hot springs.






A-mazingggggg. It was cold and rainy that day but it didn't matter. The hot springs are just that: hot. very very hot. Certain parts of the lagoon were around 104 degrees. There are bins of mud lining the edges of the lagoon for people to use. The combination of the mud and the steam from the water is supposed to be one of the best facials you can get. It was ironic that they sell tiny bottles of mud for like $75 back home, but here it was available by the bucketload.






The best part? The lagoon had a swim up bar! A swim up bar in a natural hot spring in the middle of Iceland?! It was like Sean and I were extras in a Kanye West sci-fi rap video.




yep. definitely like that. We are such hardcore gangsters. (sorry, gangstahs. yo.) But not as hardcore as this guy



Ladies, I'm pretty sure he's single. Try not to fight over him please.

All this lounging around in the hot springs, drinking bubbly, acting like Jay-Z and Beyonce left us famished for lunch





Reindeer burger or Mink Whale Wasabi anyone? Ehhhhhh. I stuck with champagne and Pringles...the lunch of champions. Europeans love their Pringles. They are sold everywhere, even in bars. Seems so strange to me, I hadn't eaten a Pringle since like 1999 before this trip. But you know what they say: Once you Pop, you just can't Stop!

After a shower and a few more Pringles, it was time to head back for the final leg of our journey to London. At the airport we ran into a couple our age that had the same layover and we asked them how they spent their time. They talked about how bored they were, how they wish they could've showered and how ugly downtown Reykjavik was. It took every ounce of my willpower and kindness not to shout out: ha! ha! Suckers!!!! we just had the BEST, most relaxing day ever!!!!!



But I figured getting punched in the face by cranky travelers probably wouldn't be the right start to my new life.

Final verdict: Would I go back to Iceland for a vacation? No. I would do another layover and spend the day at the spa, but I have no desire to spend several days there. It's like Vegas. I'd never save up money and spend a week in Vegas, but if I had to go there I'd make the most of it.

So in my professional opinion, Iceland is like Vegas, but with Vikings and Whale blubber instead of strippers and STDs. It's true. Conde Nast Traveler just wrote the same thing.

Sidebar: I tried googling "Vikings vs Strippers" to see if any good images would come up that I could use. I got no Vikings, but A LOT of strippers. Then I remembered I'm at school in the library...so now, not only am I the old American lady, but I'm the old American lady who is looking a pornographic images at school. Creep.

and on THAT note, I am slinking back to my flat to look up Viking Strippers in privacy. I'll let you know what I find.

Coming soon.... Travel Series Part 2: I ate Shrek's best friend.

Followed by.... Travel Series Part 3: Guinness is next to Godliness