We just polished off a delicious, and shockingly inexpensive five-course tasting menu at some highbrow establishment housed at the Radisson. My belly is gurgling sweet thank yous for the salt cod, lamb loin and wonderful homemade bread with thick, creamy brown butter. Have I failed to mention by now how truly soul-pleasing the bread is here? So fragile and crusty, so soft and comforting on the inside. I think I'm in love.
The Merchant Marines have anchored themselves in Reykjavik, so Rose and I have spent much of today avoiding the roaming pockets of overexcited, beefy boys in viking hats with the fake blond hair attached. We made the mistake of telling one of them we were from Jersey, not knowing that he and his shipmates were from Long Island. A raucous, and embarrassingly public East Coast reunion erupted, Rose and I being unwilling participants of course. We're trying to blend in here guys! Having wised up, we knew to pretend we were Icelandic the next time our paths crossed with other rowdy seamen. Just nod your head, give a condescending smirk and walk away. We are Ice Princesses now!
When I was in Greece in 1973 I pretended to not speak English in order to fend off aggressive American boys. My friend and I pretended to be German. She actually spoke German and I kept saying "Ja, ja"
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