My rental car company never mentioned on the email that they were off-site, so I waste an hour getting on a shuttle that drives around the airport dropping people off at Alamo and Hertz, only to be dropped off back at terminal. Fortunately the company is quick to respond, end up sending me a couple of high-schoolers in a van another hour later. The errand boys can barely drive a stick, and struggle even to get out of the parking lot. I get dropped off at some Honda dealership, their "temporary location.” The main man seems to know what he's doing, but the pale-faced understudy of his cannot turn on the mobile wifi that I'm about to rent.
Phloe, the powerful creature who lent her talent to do my first album cover, has been gramming like a champ from all over the globe including this volcanic island I stand upon. I give her my itinerary, she hits me with the list to make my 16hr layover the best it could be. I just need to stick to it. So I start on Golden Circle in my little Peugeot.
The things you see on this drive is beyond description. Pingvellir, Geysir, Gullfoss…all of which just BEGS at least some skill level of photography which I do not possess. One shot that still killls me that I didn’t get to capture, on a hopeless attempt to describe, is of this massive green meadow with silver streams and small ponds with these tall mountains standing behind like goddamn Olympus, with massive cotton-like clouds just dancing around these dieties. #canteven It’s my double rainbow moment, and then the intense shower starts to fall upon us and, what do you know, a fucking rainbow. All the way. WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.
So just to compensate, I hit the bar at the KEF terminal and find a shot of Brennivín with a side of shark meat, hákarl. Topher has informed me of its"particular fermentation process" and I have to say, I wouldn’t have tried it any earlier than when I’m just about to board on a plane. Wiki says it "contains a large amount of ammonia and has a strong smell, similar to many cleaning products.” Also says "Those new to it may gag involuntarily on the first attempt." Honest to Thor, though, shit is refreshing. Especially with Brennivin which almost neutralizes the stinging aroma of shark piss. I'm craving for another, but you usually don’t get the second because, as the barkeep says "you shouldn't eat too much of it. It's basically a poison." Great, I insist. The barkeep is taken aback, gives me another around for the price of a double and says "You're the first one I've ever served that actually enjoys this." Well, maybe you hadn’t met a boy from Toyama, shrimp-shell-eating unshaven son of a refugee.