PROLOGUE

A good friend gave me a Bon Voyage card that read, “Live Life With No Excuses. Travel With No Regret.” Indeed!  Also, if you can get an answer to “Hvar-ersnyrtingin?” you’ve got it made in Iceland. However, before I fill you in about my adventures in that unique and beautiful European country (Yes, Iceland is in Europe— 800km to Scotland and 950km to Norway) I first want to regale you with what trip preparations look like in these Covid days.

Two weeks before my trip, I was exposed to Covid by a friendly, unmasked neighbor who was diagnosed after greeting me. Five days later, I tested Negative, and vowed to eat in my apartment and avoid well-meaning friends. Then, the next day I was notified that our streets were to be resurfaced, and we would have to move our cars out of the carports if we didn’t want our tires imbedded in cement. Of course, the date for all of this activity was flexible, so I had to give my car key to someone. It was beyond me how the folks in charge could schedule a resurfacing in the Monsoon rainy season, but before I tried to reason this out, another problem arose.

My hair-cutting lady called to let me know that she was stuck in Utah because she had missed her plane on the way back to Tucson from Cancun. The date of my departure was imminent. However the haircut date had to be changed. I hoped she would return in time because my hair was starting to look more like Ringo’s than Paul’s.

Packing was difficult because I knew the weather would be cool. Crossing the Arctic Circle was a tip-off. The operational words involved “layer your clothes.” This was no small feat going from 105 degree heat to the 50 degree summer weather of Iceland. Consequently, I stuffed as much as I could into an oversized purse made from parachute material. I was prepared for any occasion—and a small carry-on bag—fearing the loss of my suitcase.

OK! Ready Set Go! But wait! First I was taking two flights to Washington, DC to spend a day with my son, Josh and daughter-in-law Barbara before the three of us would fly to Reykjavik.
Now it was time to start worrying!

What if I get stuck in the elevator on my way down from my apartment to the lobby?
Will my limo driver get me to the airport on time. Is a 4:30 am pick-up early enough?
Will my plane be cancelled?
Will my Dallas connection connect?
Will my suitcase arrive to Washington, DC with me?
Will the three of us pass the ship’s required Covid Test at the Dulles Airport?
Will the driver be at the Iceland Airport in the morning to take us to the Borg Hotel?

By now, I had nothing left to worry about except ‘Hvar-ersnyrtingin. Luckily, almost everyone in Iceland speaks English, so finding a toilet would be easy.

More to follow…Arriving in Reykjavik.

Esther Blumenfeld