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Day One:
Icelandic Ponies
Norse Attack
Blue Lagoon

Day Two:
Black Sand Beach
Sea Kayaking
Whitewater Rafting

Day Three:
Clubbing Again

Day Four:
Back Home



Guitar Islancío

Top: The Chalet at Skidakalínn

Right: The host greets us with a rollicking tune

Left: Inga sings

We hopped back on the ancient bus. A short ride back to the farm, and we were out of the bulky waterproof suits. Hot "kaffi" and Icelandic pastries awaited us before the ride back to Reykjavík. Following the same route that we had traced on the way North, we listened as Joe and Dave Dalton traded gibbersih Icelandic lore over the CB, making fun of Inga's earnest folk tales. Many of the riders dozed in the late afternoon sun. Richard and I enjoyed the relative quiet in our Jeep until arriving back at the hotel around 7PM. I was saddened to later discover that I had left my bird skull in the Jeep.

In our rooms, we changed out of our day tripping clothes and into comfortable casual wear for the dinner at Skidaskalínn. Back with Sven on our now familiar tour bus, we drove back out of Reykjavík up to the former ski chalet for a beautiful dinner.

Greeted by the proprietor of the establishment playing an accordion, we were offered hot appetizers and champagne. He ushered us into a large upstairs banquet hall, where a jazz trio was playing familiar standards.

The trio, we found out, was Guitar Islancío, two guitar players and a contrabass player. Their music was excellent and Inga told us that they were to be awarded the Reykjavík Artist of the Year honor later that evening, in an informal audience with the mayor of Reykjavík, Ingibjörg Gísladottir.

Our dinner was delicious. We were seated at long tables dressed with white tablecloths and candles. The elegant setting was relaxing and offered an opportunity to talk with members of the trip we had not yet gotten the chance to know. Karyn and I sat near Natalie and Dave Dalton, a couple from Ohio. Natalie worked with Empower Media Marketing; Dave with Procter and Gamble. We had an engaging conversation about the advertising business and our respective careers.

After dinner, Inga and our host sang a few traditional Icelandic folksongs. Inga explained that she had been a singer in her early years, and demonstrated a great voice, accompanying herself on guitar. We left the restaurant in great spirits. Joe and Dave left the restaurant with at least a case of beer for the half hour ride home, and led the bus in a rousing parody of an Icelandic folksong, which he named the "Sushi Song". This song turned out to be pretty popular during the remainder of the trip, and engendered numerous requests for Joe to heave forth with it at the most inopportune moments.



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