Reykjavik Roving Redux

One thing that does take a while to get used to in Iceland is the climate. While normally I’m a sucker for a good rainy day, it does induce some last-minute itinerary changes that can be frustrating. So when I get emailed from the car rental warning about incoming storms with metric-system values of wind speed and temperatures, I decided to err towards caution and spend the day indoors. My first stop was the Harpa Music Hall seen briefly yesterday. This building was truly a multinational effort: a Russian composer and his Icelandic singer wife were asked to lead the campaign to secure funding from various European firms as well as contract with American and Chinese construction companies along with a Dutch architect utilizing Austrian electricians. Ultimately, the plans had been reduced from a single-purpose music hall to a conferencing center side-piece to justify the cost. The name “Harpa” was chosen for its instrumental (the harp, obviously) and mythological ties – the term being a reference to spring and new life (something the project reflected several times over).

The chamber music hall boasted an impressive setup of sound-altering wooden inserts cut in various sloping patterns in a perimeter about a meter from the actual walls.Curtains of dampening felt could be raised or lowered depending on necessity, but the real spectacle was the undulating light patterns which gave the space its nickname “the Northern Lights.”

Next on the tour was the expansive main hall named after the volcano Heldburg. The acoustics were accounted for prior to any other construction which resulted in an antechamber designed to reverberate sound at specific intervals; apparently operas could echo for up to ten seconds with the right apertures into the auditorium. The red and black scheme evoked the imagery of Iceland’s volcanic landscape, and the material in the seats were designed with the same sound absorption of the human body – meaning there was no need to fine tune the quality depending on the attendance.

Sufficiently cultured, I decided to wander downtown during a break in the rain. Iceland is supposedly famous for hot dogs, so I tried the house special; I won’t lie – it’s not for everyone (hot dogs shouldn’t crunch), but I enjoyed it all the same. Reykjavik’s best flea market offered deals on clothing, antique music, jewelry, videos, military memorabilia, books and an entire wing for foods. As adventurous as my stomach is, I did not try the fermented cheese shark.

As much as I try to avoid the typical sights in a new country, the Hallgrim Cathedral is truly iconic to Iceland and I figured I still had time before my dinner reservation. The sheer scale doesn’t do justice in a photograph, but I suddenly recalled why these structures were so integral to these societies. It would take years (if not decades) to complete construction, and all the while industry kept people employed and connected to the community.

One food recommendation that I kept seeing was a restaurant simply called “The Fish Company.” Friends, do not sleep on this place. I’m not one to boast a supreme palate but this was the greatest fish I’ve ever tasted: haddock, cod, plaice. The atmosphere was also on point with low lighting and stone wallsreminiscent of a castle (but like, not medieval. They should’ve sent a poet).

On a whim, a local bar named Fredrickssen’s seemed an apt place to get a nightcap before heading out. The tap selection was amazing, and I got to chat with an Australian couple about their experiences and upcoming destinations on a month-long holiday. Sadly, the Viking history comedy show I planned to see at the Harpa was cancelled so I called it a night with one last shot against the sea.