Steam heat, shark meat and schnapps

                                            

What a difference a day makes. Yesterday was clear, sunny and cold, but no wind. It was an absoutely stunning day, and clear enough at night to see a long beam of light in the sky- the Imagine Peace Tower installed on a nearby island by Yoko Ono. She lights it  every year starting on Oct. 9, John Lennon's birth date, until Dec. 8, the date he died.

Icelanders are experts in staying warm. Steaming, outdoor geothermal pools are all over Reykjavik. I regret we won't have time to get to the one that's about a 20-minute walk from our guesthouse, but we went instead to the Blue Lagoon, above, a big spa in the middle of the lava fields, about a 40 minute drive from town. The waters come from the runoff of a huge geothermal plant, and are heated to an average temp of 99 degrees. We stayed in for about

two hours, swimming around and finding spots where the water felt like a very hot bath, and others where it was cooler. All the water, even what comes out of the tap and showers in people's homes, has a slight sulfer smell, a bit like rotten eggs, but it's something they apparently get used to. Above are the lava fields - miles and miles of them- and a volcano. There are at least 10 major volcanos in Iceland, and many smaller ones. The one that erupted in April has settled down, so no more dangers of flight disruptions.

Runar, the owner of our guesthouse, introduced us to the proper way to sample fermented shark meat, a local delicacy that has a bad smell, but a good taste. To get the full effect, it's essential to wash it down with Black Death or Brennivin, a clear alcoholic drink similar to schnapps. Runar gave us each a piece of shark about the size of a sugar cube, then told us to close our mouth, chew it, and not open our mouth until it was gone. It worked. No bad taste. The next step is to chug a glass of the schnapps, brush your teeth, and go to bed.

Locals love to spend Sundays relaxing and enjoying the city. A lake, called the "pond,'' next to city hall is frozen over this time of the year. Walking across it looks risky to us, but they apparently know what they're doing. We spotted a few people pushing strollers from one end to the other.

Everyone's favorite way to stay warm is to duck into a cafe for waffles and coffee. This mother and her daughter were splitting one slathered with whipped cream and strawberry jam.

"It's our favorite thing when we want something to do that's warm and cozy,'' she told us. "We walk around town and come here.'' 

We spent our last evening warm and cozy at the Iceland Opera. Edda, the owner of our guesthouse, works in the marketing department. The opera was Rigoletto in Italian with Icelandic subtitles, not a big help to us needless to say, but fun to hear and watch. It was all set in modern day, with a Russian mafia type playing the Duke.

The forecast for today is 25 degrees, with a chance of  snow. I think we'll try to squeeze in one more hot chocolate before we leave!

More photos at http://www.iceland2010.puciello.com

Hello from chilly, cozy, crazy Iceland

                                                
The Christmas season kicks off in early November in Iceland. Colored lights already brighten shop windows, and shelves are stocked with decorations and gifts such as these cute little boiled wool Santas.


"It's the time of the year when darkness sets in '' a waitress told us. "The lights help everything seem brighter.''


Hello from Reykjavik where the temperature is 28, and the wind chill factor is around 9. We can hear the wind howling outside our bedroom window, but we're cozy and warm inside Guesthouse Eric the Red.


Until the collapse of its banking system two years ago, Iceland was one of the most expensive countries in the world. For visitors like us, it went from being over-the-top expensive to just expensive, but the country has an almost unlimited source of hot water heat and electricity generated by geothermal energy circulating beneath its volcanos. With fishing in decline, and banking kaput, some feel Iceland's economic future lies in becoming the powerhouse of Europe.


"As they say in Iceland,'' Edda, our host, told us as she cranked up the registers in our room, "the only thing cheap is the heat.''

                                                 Reykjavick around 1 p.m.


It was almost dark when we arrived from Paris at 5 p.m. Iceland is in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, at the edge of the Arctic Circle, so there's only about eight hours of daylight this time of year. The trade-off is 24 hours of daylight for a few days in summer. It's been clear and sunny, great for picture-taking, but high wind gusts have literally blown me down the street a couple of times.


Edda and her partner, Runar, run a very homey and wecolming 12-room guest house in a big home built in the 1930s. It's across the street from the Hallgrimskirkja church, a Lutheran church with a steeple that looks something like a rocket ship. Our room is around $85 a night, with private bathroom and a big breakfast designed to "last all day,'' important in this kind of weather.  Laid out on the buffet table were  cerials, homemade breads, cheeses, meats, smoked lamb, salmon and trout; tomatos; fruit; milk; coffee and tea.

                                                  Edda and Runar

                                            
Edda, 57, spent a year in Seattle has a high school exchange student, and still maintains lots of ties. Friends of some of her Seattle friends happened to be visiting in Reykjavik, so Edda and Runar invited us all to dinner.

                                                Runar and homemade bread


They fixed Icelandic trout, a pinkish fish similar in texture and taste to salmon; a big salad with mango and avacado (imported); boiled potatoes and a dessert of homemade ice cream made by whipping, then freezing cream, egg yokes, vanilla, brown sugar and chocolate. It's been fun getting to know them and learn about a bit about life in Iceland.


Runar is a carpenter who used to repair televisions for a living. He recalls a time when there was no on TV on Thursdays and the entire month of July when the workers at the station took vacation. Iceland's a small country, afer all, just 300,000 people in a country the size of England, population 50 mlllion.


Until the economic downturn, there was full employment. A shortage of workers to fill jobs meant that many worked two jobs and/or long hours. Now, the unemployment rate is about 7 percent, and for the first time in her life, Edda said, she's in a position that feels strange for an Icelander: She knows that if she quit or lost her job, she wouldn't necessarily be able to find a new one, or at least one that she wanted. Still, she says she feels there were a lot of positive effects of the downturn. People have more free time too spend with family. They're more creative. She is taking classes to become a tour guide. A book called "Bliss'' cites Icelanders as some of the happiest people on earth. They do seem content.

                                         Geothermal power plant, 9:30 a.m.


We spent our first day on an eight-hour "Golden Circle'' van tour of three natural wonders, all close to Reykjavik. Our guide, David Wellsbury of Iceland Horizon, picked us up around 9 a.m., and drove us though lava fields into snow-covered mountains, first to this geothermal plant, then onto a field of steaming geysers.

                                    
The sun rose around 9:45 a.m. We walked around as long as we could, but the wind was blowing hard, so we took a quick stroll around, and tried to catch the steam plumes rising.

                                                

 We stopped at a volcano (There are at least 10 major ones and many smaller ones), a half-frozen waterfall, and then at Thingvellir National Park where the earth split as the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates shifted apart.

Tom stands, trying not to look like he's freezing, as he puts one foot in two continents.

The Icelanders started out as Catholics under the Norse (explorers from Norway were the first settlers). Later, they were ruled by the Danes who forced them to become Lutherans. The Icelandic Lutheran Church is the state church, and there is no separation between church and state. Above is the Hallgrimskirkja Church near   our guesthouse. It's 240-feet high. We road the elevator to the top for views all over the city. The statue in front is the explorer Leif Eriksson, whom some credit with "discovering'' North America about 600 years before Christopher Columbus. Leif was the son of Eric, for whom our guesthouse is named. Eric too was an explorer. He sailed from iceland and discovered Greenland.

Starbucks not. Icelanders know how to do cozy, and they love their independent cafes. The Cafe Mokka, above,  is the oldest in Reykjavick. We stopped here for killer hot chocolate with whipped cream. There are no Starbucks in Iceland, and McDonald's recently closed its restaurant in Reykjavk due to lack of business. I'm typing this now at a little upstairs cafe called Babalu decorated with pink flamingos, Flintstone knick-knacks and comfy sofas. One couple just grabbed a monopoly game from the shelf. Another woman is sitting in the corner knitting. Two young couples sitting across from us are discussing going home and making a chocolate cake. Judy Garland is singing "Somewhere Over the Rainbow.'' More happy Icelanders.

                                           Downtown Reykjavik


Downtown Reykjavik looks like a small-town Lego village. Houses and buildings are square and sturdy, mostly either stucco or sheathed with colorful corrugated metal to protect against the weather. It takes only about an hour to walk around the town, with time out to stop in a few museums, art galleries and shops. Buying most anything is prohibitive. Icelandic wool sweaters sell for hundreds of dollars. The Value Added Tax on most goods and services is 24 percent, but all prices, including restaurant prices, include taxes, and there's a firm no-tipping policy. The social services safety net is still pretty good for locals, but the average income tax rate is 38 percent, and even with that, the government is starting to cut back on health care, retirement services etc. Alcohol is especially expensive (beer didn't become legal until 1989). Reykjavik has an international reputation as a party town, but from the looks of the crowd at the cafe where we're blogging, the economy may have taken things down a notch.

This young woman was dressed for a Saturday night on the town. She said that she and her friends go out once a month. They call it "Saturday night dress up.'' They start around  9-10 p.m. at a cafe such as the Babalu, then move on to a bar (for those who are 20 or older), or a private party. She and her friends planned to "go dancing until 6 a.m."  I asked about her shoes. She said she designed them herself. Now that's creative!

                                                 Shark meat shop


Fish is by far the best thing to eat. Iceland imports almost everything, except fish, beef and lamb. Everyone raves about the hot dogs, especially those from a special stand which Bill Clinton patronized. Recently, farmers have begun to grow vegetables in geothermal-powered greenhouses. We had an excellent (but expensive) meal our first night of salmon over Asian noddles and grilled vegetables. The shop above is in a flea market held weekends on the waterfront. The speciality is dried shark called hakarl, prepared by burying it in the ground for six months to remove the toxins. It's supposed to have an especially nasty taste. We'll see. Runar makes his own, and wants us to sample his which he says must be eaten with Brennivin, or "Black Death,'' a clear alcolhol made from fermented potato pulp, and flavored with caraway seeds.

One of the our most interesting meals was at a small seafood restaurant called Saegreifinn. Kjartan, 71, above, is the owner. His specialty is lobster soup. Whale-meat kabobs and sea cucumber soup were also on the menu when we dropped in Saturday afternoon. We decided to share both the lobster and sea cucumber (which Kjartan said is supposed to "work like Viagra.'' Unfortunately for Tom, I ate all the sea cucumbers before I passed the bowl to him.

Reykjavik's recently-elected mayor is a professional comedian. People seem to like him. He ran as a member of the "Best Party,'' and urged people to vote for him because he wasn't a member of the worst party. His platform included requiring all the town swimming pools to provide free towels, the thinking being that they could then legally qualify as "spas,'' and perhaps attract tourists as well as locals.


These smiling green lights were no doubt in place long before the new mayor came into office. Iceland, with all its economic problems, is far from paradise. But, no question, the Icelanders I've met do seem like happy people.

Paris meets Africa in St. Denis

We took advantage of an interesting program called "Paris Greeters'' to make arrangements to meet up with a local man, Michel Moisan, below, for a three-hour walk around a historical neighborhood called St. Denis in East Paris, about 40 minutes by metro away from the city center. The neighborhood is known for its Gothic-style basilica, named after St.Denis, the first bishop of Paris. Legend has it that he was beheaded, then instead of dying, walked all the way to St. Denis from Montmartre, head in his hands, before he reached St. Denis and died.  The basilica stands on the remains of a 4th century church where he was buried. Most of the kings and queens of France were buried here as well.

                                              Michel Moisan


The neighborhood today has a village feel with a big pedestrianized main square. It's  heavily populated with Africans from French-colonized countries such as the French West Indies, Algeria, Morocco, etc. Vendors at a market held three times a week - one of the biggest in Europe- sell all sorts of exotic foods and vegetables popular in Africa. Many of the women come dressed in colorful native clothing with matching head coverings and dresses.

 We found the man below at a littlle restaurant behind the market stalls called Royanume de l'Orientale (Kingdome of Oriental Women). He was grilling flatbread for sandwiches. Inside, a woman was making crepes which she filled with a delicious and slightly spicey veggie combo.

 The basilica looks a lot like Notre Dame Cathedral, and in fact, because it was built before Notre Dame, is considered the birthplace of Gothic architecture, a design style that defines most of the churches around France.

The tombs themselves were plundered during the revolution, so all that remains of the kings and queens today are some bones, and marble statues. Among the most bizarre momentos is the shriveled up heart of the 10-year-old heir to the French throne, Louis XVII. It was encased in a glass jar and installed in the church in 2004 near the graves of his parents, Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI after a DNA test confirmed the match 200 years after his death.

Notice the animals at the feet of these statues. I'll be curious to research the explanation once I get home. Michel didn't know the significance, but we guessed it had something to do with luck or protection.


Meeting Michel was a treat.  He's 59, has lived in the neighborhood since the late 1980s,  and is one of those who will be affected once France raises its retirement age from 60 to 62. He was laid off his job with a pharmaceutical company last year when, in his words, he became "too old and too expensive.'' He got a three-year unemployment settlement which would have lasted him until retirement. Now he faces a "gap year'' with no income. I asked him if he marched in the protest demonstrations. His answer was "of course.''


Now that he's not working, he has time to volunteer as a guide for Paris Greeters. It's a great program. All you have to do is go to their web site and make a request for whatever day you will be in Paris and would like to have a local show you a favorite neighborhood. The walks are free, and last about 2-3 hours.


We also were able to squeeze in coffee with our friend Michele Rumeau whom I got to know years ago when she ran a B&B in her apartment in Paris. Michele has since moved to a farm in Normandy, but keeps a small apartment in Paris (not a B&B anymore) where she stays two orr three days while she takes a class and watches her two grandchildren.

                                     Michele and me at Cafe Contrescarpe


Michele is a retired Latin and Greek teacher who went on to do many things in her "retirement'' including going back to school to study art history, leading historical tours around Paris which she designed herself, working for her community newspaper and studying modern Greek. She retired at 49 after a friend told her of an obscure law written after World War II that allowed women who had at least three children and no husband to retire with a pension in order free up jobs for men.


The rain finally stopped, so we took advantage of beautiful weather on our last day in Paris, to walk all the way from the top of the Champs-Elysees back our hotel, eight miles total, with stops along the way to see the Monet exhibit at the Grand Palais, a lunch of fish soup at a cafe in the Jardin des Tuileries, a walk along the Rue de Rivoli and the Louvre buildings at sunset, then finally past the booksellers along the Seine river and through the little streets of the Latin Quarter. The weather can be unpredictable in November, but when it's sunny, cold and clear, there's nothing more beautiful walking through Paris on a late winter afternoon.


Dinner was at an Indian/ Sri Lankan restaurant in business since 1989 on the Rue Descartes, another recommendation by our British friend, "Mr. Ken.'' The owner, Selva, offers an excellent and filling 8-euro special before 8 p.m. The name of the restaurant is Ellora, and it's going on my list for good value in Paris.

                                            Selva and Mr. Ken


We leave for Reykjavik in the morning where it's cold (in the 20s and 30s), but sunny, so we feel lucky. Certainly better than rain. It feels as if we're going the opposite end of the world - totally different climate, culture, language, people, economy, environment etc., just 2.5 hours away.

Chez Jim

   Jim Haynes is an American living in Paris who has been hosting dinners in his Paris apartment every Sunday night for more than 35 years. Anyone can come. He asks that you call or e-mail ahead, then he sends you directions and details. It's a buffet affair, usually prepared by a friend or or friends, and everyone eats standing up, balancing plates on railings or in their hands. The "bar'' is on the porch - wine in boxes, beer, juices and soft drinks. Jim spends most of the evening sitting on a stool in the kitchen, greeting and introducing everyone. We went Sunday night when about 60 others showed up - people from all over the world who happened to be in Paris and decided to come to Jim's for Sunday dinner.

                                           Jim Haynes and me


The food, as usual, was fantastic, an all-Indian menu with oranges and ice cream for dessert. Dinner starts at 8 p.m. and begins like a big party, with Jim making introductions, and strangers striking up conversations, mostly in English. I met a woman from Macedonia, a man from Scotland, and several people from the U.S. including a woman who lives in Portland half the year, and cooks for Jim once a month.

Jim's kitchen is the size of a closet. His whole downstairs is only three rooms,  but everything is very organized. We came in to find two huge pots of rice on the stove and several Indian dishes warming in the oven.  He plans for 100, and eats the leftovers all week. He started these dinners long ago just to socialize and get people socializing. He's a retired university professor and loves to write and travel. Now with most everyone making a 20-25 euro donation, they've become a source of income as well. Jim usually goes to India in November, but he skipped the trip this year to stay in Paris. Lucky for us!

 I've been to Paris at almost every time of the year- January, February, November, March...and have only run into bad weather twice . Once was in February when it was snowy and windy. The other time was this week. It's been rainy and windy and cold! People are throwing upturned umbrellas in the garbage cans. I felt sorry for Tom and his sister and our brother-in-law who had to stand outside in line for an hour to get into the Eiffel Tower (while I sat in a cafe reading the Herarld Trib).

                                                 Galerie Vivienne


It was a perfect day to explore the coverage passages. These were built as the first  "indoor shopping malls'' in the late 1800s to promote commerce away from the streets covered with dirt, mud and water. Just a few remain today. Above is the Galerie Vivienne, behind the Palais Royal near the Louvre. To get out of the rain, we went first to the indoor shops near the entrance to the Louvre, then walked under the arcades at the Palais Royal and into a few of the passages, The Galerie Vivienne is elegant, but  my favotes are the Passage Panoramas and Passage Jouffroy with little ethnic cafes and restaurants one-of-a-kind shops specializing in canes and walking sticks; hats; chocolates; books and antiques.


We ended the day at dinner at our new favorite restaurant, the La Maison De Verlaine, where we met up with Nancy Penrose, a friend from Seattle who was here on a one-night Air France layover between flights from Seattle to Lebanon. We ran into the same British guy in the neighborhood who recommended the restaurant to us our first night. We chatted for a while, and then went in to get a table. After we were seated, the waiter  brought us a round of drinks which he said were compliments of "Mr. Ken,'' our British friend.The food was excellent. The price was right. The company delightful. A perfect end to a rainy day.

Bonjour from Paris

Strikes and protests make the news, but the French really do know how to live. Notice the woman above in a coat and a scarf buying her cheese at a street market in the Alesia neighborhood. November is one of my favorite months to visit Paris, and that's where Tom and I are, to be followed by four nights in Reykjavik, Iceland.

Like last fall's trip to Madrid and Morocco, this odd combo of destinations started with a cheap air fare, $650 round-trip from Seattle to Paris on Iceland Air which started flying non-stop between Seattle and Reykjavik last year. It offers free stopovers, so we'll be taking advantage of that on the way back with a four-night stay before returning to Seattle. 

Iceland isn't really all that cold, just as Greenland is not all that green (Long story, but our guesthouse is named after Erick the Red, the father of Lief Erickson. Erick discovered Greenland while exploring off the coast of Iceland. He named it Greenland to entire people from Iceland to settle there). That said, Iceland is chilly this time of year, mainly due to the wind, and it looks like they've had some snow already. We had a short layover at the airport on the way to Paris. The Iceland Air flight is nice because it's just seven hours to Reykjavik from Seattle, then another two to Paris. If Air France is the air equivalent of staying at the Ritz, then I guess you could say Iceland Air is like a refurbished Motel 6. It's all very efficient, but pretty bare bones. Mimimal announcements, and a charge for everything (but not checked bags) from headsets to meals and snacks. They came around once with water, soft drinks etc. and that was it. We at a late lunch at the airport before we left, and packed some food for breakfast, so we were fine. One advantage is that we had already been through EU immigration (in Reykavick) when we arrived in Paris, avoiding some pretty long lines at De Gaulle.

Back to Paris: We've rented a little studio apartment through Vacation Rental By Owner for about 80 euro ($110) per night. 

It's on the Left Bank, near the Pantheon. We're meeting up with Tom's sister, Bea, and her husband, Warren, for a few days while we're here. It's their first trip to Paris, so we're excited to show them around.  Dinner thier first night here will be at the home of Jim Haynes, the American ex-pat I wrote about a few years back. Jim hosts huge, stand-up gatherings in his tiny flat every Sunday night for anyone who happens to be around, and e-mails or calls ahead to invite themselves. 

It's been pouring rain since we got here, but who cares? We packed umbrellas and we're having a blast. The euro,however,is not in our favor. We' re having a bad case of sticker-shock (think $6 everytime you sit down in one of those cozy,sidewalk cafes for coffee or a beer). But Paris is all about eating, right? So we're on the hunt to economize, and enjoy the local scene. Not very hard, really. 

We met this guy while strolling through the Maubert Market. He's Maurad from Lebanon, and he uses this grill (like a Mexican comal) to grill flatbread coated with thyme. He adds feta cheese and tomato, then folds it in a triangle and wraps it in a paper cone. We bought one each for $4 a piece, then took them to a cafe across the street where we bought a coffee and tea for about the same price. One of the best tips I ever received from a Parisian friend was that it's perfectly acceptable to buy food from a nearby bakery or street vendor, and bring it to a cafe to eat. So long as you buy coffee, tea or a drink, no problem. The table is yours for however long you want.

                                  

 Tom was skeptical at first about bringing our own food  to a cafe, but as you can see, he caught on quickly. Of course, we've had some good "real'' meals. Among the best, this little restaurant we stumbled on thanks to a recommendation by a British guy in our Parisian neighborhood.

This is Maison De Verlaine,39 Rue Descartes in the 5th, near rue Mouffetard. It's named after Paul Verlaine, a French poet who lived here, but Americans might be more impressed knowing that it was Hemmingway's first apartment in Paris. The interior is decorated floor to ceiling with old photos, guitars and exposed brick, and the 15 euro menu (about $21) including tax and tip, was excellent value. We ordered a salad of smoked herring and warm potatos, followed by lamb chops with green beans and a cheese course (for me) for dessert, and some sort of gooey chocolate thing for Tom.  

 

McDonald's has gone upscale all over Europe. This one serves a pretty good cappuccino for $1.75, with free wi-fi, and tables with a view. It's three-story affair near Metro Republique and the Canal St. Martin. We sat here and watched a small protest march. Had no idea what they were protesting, but police outnumbered the protesters three to one and blocked off the intersection for an hour or so.

 We walked along the canal in the rain, and spotted this tour boat going through one of the locks. It's a newly-hip area with lots of bars, boutiques etc. and a very good bookshop, Artazart, specializing in photography and design books.

                                    Nighttime along the Seine River