The Portland Not-Exactly-Express: Catching Up - Part Two

Coming in a 3AM, staying up late drinking, and being a lazy bastard in general meant that I slept pretty late the next morning. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing since I was going to have to stay up until 3AM to catch my train out of SLC and start heading home. The only downside was that once again I wasn't getting a start until close to 2PM, and with sunset coming around 5PM there weren't a whole lot of daylight hours to burn. But there was food to be had, and I wasn't going to let a little thing like the sun disappearing ruin my day. The first meal of the day was going to be an SLC institution, The Red Iguana. The Red Iguana is home to some pretty good Mexican food in general, but they are legendary for their mole sauces. I got a table after a short wait, ordered up a sampling of their various sauces and tested them all out. Except for their verde sauce, which really didn't have much flavor at all, they were all good. Although the pumkin seed based sauce, and the chocolatey negro sauce were good, I opted for their spicy and flavorful amarilla sauce and a bottomless glass of ice cold horchata (a sweet rice milk with cinnamon and vanilla). Although I could definitely pick up on the spice of the sample, I was pleasantly surprised by the amount of fire the full dish had. What came to the table was a plate of stewed pork swimming in a pool of their amarilla mole that I scooped into steamed flour tortillas. By the time I was full and thoroughly satisfied I had a healthy brow of sweat forming and was glad for the cool glass of horchata.

The Portland Not-Exactly-Express: Pictures Of The Rest Of It

The Portland Not-Exactly-Express: Catching Up - Part One

The last few days haven't left me much time to write up anything. Between catching up on sleep and trying to squeeze as much as I could in, and..well...having a little too much to drink, writing these posts were low on my priorities. Plenty has gone on in the last couple days so I'm going to break it up so they're easier to digest. On a side note I've lost track and lost count of the "Day #" so I'm just not going to bother.

I stepped off the train after being on the outskirts of SLC for what seemed like an hour. It never seemed to get any closer and then we were there. The reported snow hadn't materialized beyond a dusting earlier and a stray flake here and there. It also wasn't really a mile to the hotel. It was quite cold at 3am, but it had been more biting in Devils Lake so i figured I would be fine. Safely in my room I crashed until noon and then hit the town. Tradition has it that my first stop is a food stop so I headed for a small patisserie cafe called Les Madeline's that was rumored to have a front runner for the world's best kouing aman. The only problem was that I had no idea what that was. They were sold out when I arrived but she told me they were making more and they'd be ready in an hour. I wasn't sure if i would make it back by, and I still needed to do some Google Maps research to figure out where to go so i grabbed a couple spring rolls they offered and killed some time. Holy shit was it worth it. I'm not sure I can say it was the best thing I've ever had, it was most definitely the best baked good I've ever had. The kouing aman is a fist sized, buttery, cinnamony pastry that is folded in on itself to make a faceted bun that is crunchy and flaky on the outside and soft and bready on the inside. Fresh out of the oven it is a magical experience, but even the next day after its been rattling around town and sitting in a box on the table its phenomenal. Although Les Madeleine's does deliver, I could see the chance of having one oven fresh be worth a trip to SLC alone. I was going to have to try very hard to find something to do to top it.

The Portland Not-Exactly-Express: Some More Pictures

The Portland Not-Exactly-Express: Portland Pictures

The Portland Not-Exactly-Express: Day 11/12 - I Killed A Night In Reno Just To Watch It Die...

Sacramento was nice, but I honestly wasn't upset that I was leaving. Although the house where the hostel is located was a great house their beds sucked. The room had a creaky metal bunk bed and flimsy mattress that looked like they bought them from the same place as the jail just down the road. I woke up early and only marginally rested, packed up, and checked out. I grabbed a decent breakfast of chorizo (the Mexican kind, not the high-end Portuguese stuff I had in Portland) and eggs at a taqueria a few blocks down the road and then made my way to the train station, not a Union Station this time, and was shortly on my way to Reno. This was one of the few legs of the trip where I would actually be passing through the scenic areas during the day, and it was only a short 5 hour trip. As an added bonus, two volunteers from the railroad museum traveled along the Sacramento to Reno leg and provided commentary about the history of the railroad quiches proved to be pretty interesting. It may be the holiday season, or maybe a coincidence, but people seemed far more talkative and pleasant on this train as opposed to the others. The scenery, commentary, and conversation made for a very short ride. Before I knew it I was standing outside the Reno train station, also not Union Station, trying to figure out where I was.

The Portland Not-Exactly-Express: Day 9/10 - Caveat Amtrak

The last couple days have been a bit of a slow but hectic period. I woke up early Saturday to try and get out and see a few more things in Portland before I had to head back to the train station, which as you could probably guess is called Union Station, and head on to Sacramento. There were only two places I absolutely wanted to squeeze in: the Japanese Garden in the far western part of Portland, and a museum/store full of the kind of oddities that I made the focus of my Truth or Consequences roadtrip called the Peculiarium. Things didn't quite work out as planned, not only did the Peculiarium have later than anticipated winter hours, when those hours came around they flat out didn't open. Before I realized they were going to be a no show I decided to kill time in the general area of the museum until they opened. I wandered around several shops in the calm, peaceful neighborhood nearby. It was full of brunch restaurants, coffee shops, boutiques, and a couple brewpubs. I started off by getting some good coffee and a great crepe at a cozy place called Vivace. The crepe was drizzled with lemon juice, dusted with powdered sugar, and stuffed with fresh strawberries and ended up tasting like strawberry lemonade. I walked around some more and then hit a passable, though not great, brewpub called The Old Lompoc. The opening time for the museum came, but they weren't open. I killed another 15 or 20 minutes and they still weren't showing any signs of life. Between the Peculiarium just not opening and the fact that the time I had wasted meant I couldn't spend any reasonable time at the Japanese garden meant I accomplished neither of my goals. Disappointed, I headed back to the guesthouse, grabbed my stuff, and sadly left the fantastic city of Portland for Sacramento.

The Portland Not-Exactly-Express: Day 8 - Portlandia

One of the things I was happy to find out about the timing of my trip was that I would be in Portland for their Saturday Market (it's also open on Sunday, and the entire week before Christmas and then closes for 2 months). It's not really a farmers market, or a flea market, or an art fair, or one of Portland's pods but a combination of all of those. It's a place where you can buy original paintings, exotic soaps, handmade musical instruments, gourmet popcorn, fresh produce, and a wide variety of ethnic foods. Knowing in advance that the market gets incredibly busy as the afternoon rolls on and long lines can form at some of the more popular food carts I decided to get an early start and hit the market as soon as it opened. Early is a bit relative as the market doesn't open until 10, so I was surprised when the place was pretty empty for the first half hour or so, especially since it was another sunny and mild day. It seems that Portland is a sleepy town on the weekends. The good thing was that it gave me a nice head start on the food. A few of the food carts that were at the market I had seen and tried the day before so I skipped them and looked for new culinary adventures. I tried some mostly mediocre food from a Polish and a BBQ cart that aren't really worth mentioning. In fact the food choices seemed a bit underwhelming until I hit Doña Lola's where I had a fantastic pork and cheese pupusa. A pupusa is a thick corn tortilla-like flatbread that in my case was stuffed with pork and cheese that is cooked into it. It came with fresh pico de gallo, cabbage salad, and some kind of "tomatoes sauce." It alone was worth the trip to the market, but there was much more left to see.

The Portland Not-Exactly-Express: Day 6/7 - What Day Is It?

Thirty fucking hours. I'm sorry but there's no other way to accurately qualify the feeling of getting off a train after having been stuck on there for...wait for it...thirty fucking hours. The only thing that makes it easier is knowing that some people got on in Chicago and had been on there for over two days. And even that is only a marginal bit of consolation. However, after the explicitly said period of time I did step off the train and into Portland and things instantly got better. It was cool but not cold, clear and in the mid 40's. It felt like a cleaner city, compared to Chicago's somewhat dingy feel. The roads even seemed to make sense so that I didn't get lost on my way to the guesthouse where I'm staying - another find using my phone's internet connection while on the train. I even managed to pick a place that is not only clean, comfortable, and reasonably priced but is also convenient located to the downtown area and the free-zone of Portland's public transportation. That's right; Portland's network or trolleys and trams has an extensive free area in the heart of the downtown area...that I have yet to take advantage of. I knew about the free-zone before hand, I just didn't realize how close the guesthouse was to the stops.

The Portland Not-Exactly-Express: Day 5 - Idle Hands

This is a case where the journey is far more interesting than the destination. There just isn't a whole lot going on in Devils Lake. There's even less to do since I don't have a vehicle. But I'm getting ahead of myself, that's the destination and there's not a whole lot to say about that. The train ride started out pretty mundane once we pulled out of the station, it wasn't until dinner that it got interesting. I hadn't had an actual meal on the train yet save for a ham sandwich between DC and Chicago, so I made a reservation in the dining car. The dining car has several 4-person booths where everyone is seated communally, so my table was me and 3 complete strangers. One of them was a guy that I had seen getting on the train and was behind him in the lounge car to get something to drink. He is the type who is perpetually unhappy. When the waitress tried to seat him with people he didn't know he got upset, insisting that he didn't know these people and that he wasn't gay so he wasn't having dinner with a bunch of strange guys. The waitress actually managed to calm him down and we all sat down and looked over the menu. Less than a minute of grumbling later the guy jumps up, says "Fuck this shit," and walks out of the dining car. This didn't seem like it was going to be a very good dinner, but it quickly got better. That's when Cedric Red Feather broke the tension by telling a joke about a bear sniping his ass with a constantly complaining rabbit.

The Portland Not-Exactly-Express: Some Pictures

The Portland Not-Exactly-Express: Day 4 - Pancake Happiness

So another day is done, and I'm on another train to another town. I leave Chicago behind a bit disappointed because the few things I managed to get accomplished were mostly a let down. A fair amount of blame falls on me though; mostly due to poor time management. I didn't realize how little time I had for sightseeing today until I got ready to head out, which was only about 4 hours (not including the hour I allowed for getting back to the train station. Although there wasn't much chance of me doing things otherwise considering how tired I was, I do regret not taking advantage of my time yesterday. I'll actually have more time during my layover in Chicago on the way back, so I may be able to redeem myself. As it is, I only made it to two places before having to head out.

The Portland Not-Exactly-Express: Day 3 - Delayed Laziness

It's amazing how doing absolutely nothing f
or 19 hours can absolutely wipe you out. When I finished writing up day 2's entry we had left on time, and later on in the night we were actually 30 minutes ahead of schedule and had to wait around at one station to give people a fair chance to make their train. The train was no where close to full so I had the row to myself and I tried to take advantage of the extra room. As a result of the bonus leg room I got pretty comfortable and managed to get several rather sporadic hours of sleep. When I finally gave up trying to sleep just before sunrise I was expecting to only have 2 or 3 more hours left only to find out we had somehow ended up a little over 2 hours behind, turning a 16-ish hour trip into a 19 hour one. When we finally pulled into Chicago I was stiff and tired from the ride, and still nursing sore feet from the previous 2 days. The result was me not really feeling up to my tourist best, so I didn't actually do too much today.

The Portland Not-Exactly-Express: Day 2 - Half-Smokes and Secret Mirrors

Day 2 was a lot less walking intensive than yesterday was, which was a good thing because my feet still hurt from all the previous days' walking. Nothing feels quite as good as a blister in the crease of my big toe. Well, a blister underneath a callus, courtesy of my years of retail work standing on my feet, does come pretty close. Despite the aches and pains I was out and on my feet by 9. I decided to try and be a little smart and drop my bags and stuff off at the train station so I wasn't lugging it around with me all day. Despite the fact that it was ridiculously overpriced to store it, it was still ultimately money well spent. They didn't have lockers at Union Station, but instead had a cranky woman who was supposed to be guarding everyones valuables but was far too busy working on some kind of puzzle to stop a would be thief not to mention help me out. A few nasty looks and a helping of self-entitlement later my goods were "safely" stowed away and I headed out on another day's journey.

The Portland Not-Exactly-Express: Day 1 - Capital S

I'm going to warn you now, I'm going to use the word shit a lot in this post. It's not that things have gone so bad already that i can only resort to cussing. It's just the only word that can accurately describe what i need to say. But I'm getting ahead of myself. The shit doesn't come until later. The short of it is that I'm in Washington DC tonight, but let's start at the beginning.

The Portland Not-Exactly-Express Trip

So it looks like it might be time for another trip. I haven't taken too many trips since I went to Iceland back in March, but I haven't been completely idle either. Aside from a short weekend trip to Myrtle Beach and another weekender up to the Cherokee, NC area the only real trip of note I've made was a whirlwind trip to visit the supposedly world renowned oddity that is the House on the Rock. The trip took me to the tiny town of Spring Green, WI by way of spending the night at Mammoth Cave in Kentucky and St. Louis, and then driving 18 hours straight through to get home in time to go back to work.

Iceland Day 15ish

Between packing and thumping night clubs and probably a bit of end-of-vacation anxiety I didn't get to sleep until almost 6am Saturday morning. I had scheduled to be picked up by the bus for Blue Lagoon at 10:30am so I didn't have much time for sleep, which was quite unfortunate considering the long 2 days ahead. I had allotted 2.5 hours at Blue Lagoon thinking that would give me more than enough time to relax, eat, and wonder around to take pictures. In reality, I was rushing to get showered and changed in time to make the bus to Keflavik airport. The lagoon is very well set up with a large array of showers, lockers, and other accommodations. When you arrive you have the option to rent or buy towels, swimsuits, and robes and then you proceed to the shower rooms. Iceland takes their geothermal spa/pool/sauna hygiene very seriously. You're not allowed into any of the hundreds of hot pots and pools, including Blue Lagoon, without showering fully. The Blue Lagoon even has signs with depictions of all the areas of the body they expect you to wash. They're that serious about it. Which is commendable...no one wants to swim in other peoples soupy ass. And then 2 hours disappeared without a clue.

Iceland Day 14 - Photos

Iceland Day 14 - Greatest Hits

Today was mostly spent revisiting some of my favorite things and places I've found during my time here in Reykjavik. It wasn't really eventful, and not even particularly interesting. I slept in, ate a late breakfast at Prikið, had a late lunch at Icelandic Fish and Chips, wasted time reading in the coffee shop of Mál og Menning. I even did some dreaded touristy shopping, which I now have some slight regret that I waited until the last day to do as there is a thing or two I won't be able to get...at least not this time around. The only really new experience was eating dinner at a small bistro called Gata where I had what they called Fishsoup, but I call Every Damn Thing In The Sea Soup. No doubt it was a Nordic version, perhaps even the great-grandfather, of a frogmore stew or a low-country boil where you you toss a little bit of everything you have at hand into it and voila, you've got soup. And soup is good food. This particular variant had mussels, clams, shrimp, and some kind of white fish (I'm assuming cod) in a well seasoned and pleasantly salty tomato broth.

Iceland Day 13 - Photos

Iceland Day 13 - Home Away From Homecoming

I awoke in my tiny bed in my tiny room to the sweet sounds of a small bulldozer scraping the ice and snow off the street in front of the hotel. I wasn't ready to be awake, but there's not much point in arguing with a bulldozer. Since I was up at what most would consider a respectable hour I decided to give hotel breakfasts another chance. I'm not sure if I'm expecting too much, or I'm just too American, but toast, pickled fish of some sort, and rather pathetic looking fruit wasn't what I was looking for. I tried the fish and at first bite it was OK, but after a few bites I realized one was enough. So I filled up on bread and orange juice and then I went back to sleep. It's my vacation and I'll sleep if I want to.

Iceland Day 12 - Photos

Iceland Day 12 - Waiting

If there was one thing I did more than anything else today it was wait. I waited at the airport in Akureyri for two hours because of a misunderstanding when I called to fix the mistake I had made booking the flight. Then I waited for 2 hours in Reykjavik because it turns out the flight from Akureyri to Ísafjörður is actually a flight from Akureyri to Reykjavik and then to Ísafjörður. Had I known that, which is not mentioned anywhere on the English version of the Air Iceland site, I might have planned things differently. Not that things would have worked out any better. As it was I didn't arrive in Ísafjörður until about 5PM and this is a town the seems to start shutting down in the Winter at about 6.

Iceland Day 11 - Photos

Iceland Day 11 - Back In Action

Finally things went according to plan. After a night of listening to wind battering the side of the hotel, to the point where I could hear the windows in other rooms rattling, I finally got some sleep. The cab showed up on time, the plane landed at the correctly airport, and I only felt afraid for my life near landing when we hit some intense turbulence. The airline, Air Iceland (not to be confused with Iceland Air) is one of those small airlines that still has it's passengers board by walking out to the tarmac and on board the small twin-prop airplane. These small planes get batted around in the wind like..well..little planes...in the wind. On the upside, I've become a bit more at ease with flying. It was only a 30 minute flight though.

Iceland Day 10 - Photos

Iceland Day 10 - Not Surprised

If there's a single theme to this trip, it's undoubtedly that nothing goes according to plan. Between staying up late doing laundry and just plain old insomnia I didn't manage to get to sleep until near sunrise and then in an attempt to keep my schedule as intact as possible I only slept for a few hours. As a result I didn't get my flight rescheduled until much later, and had to move the trip to Ísafjörður back to Wednesday instead of moving the flight to Akureyri up to today (because I had inadvertently scheduled both for the same day). The urge to spend the day lounging around my room or just stumbling to the bookstore coffee shop and planting myself there all day was strong, but I feared the roots of lethargy were starting to take hold and I didn't want to get stuck in a lazy rut. Instead I decided to take advantage of the balmy 33F temps and the initially clear afternoon and hit the western part of the city and Tjörnin lake near city hall, called Ráðhús Reykjavíkur.

Iceland Day 9 - A Change Of Pace

Laundry was far more of an adventure than I had ever expected. Aside from not having a clue how to operate the machinery, I ended up setting off the smoke alarm as well. After almost 2 hours of not drying and trying various settings that I wrote down and then translated online I finally went up to check on the laundry, deciding if it wasn't dry I would just hang it up all over the room. What I found when I entered the tiny laundry room were walls dripping with condensation and the fire alarm blaring because the steam had set it off. And the clothes were still wet. Hot, but wet. I threw all my clothes into my bag, took a detour on my way to my room to let the front desk know that I was trying to burn the place down and then draped my clothes off of anything I could find. The room has two radiators that soon were covered in socks and underwear while shirts and pants hung from cabinet knobs, lamps, doors, and curtains. By this point it was almost 4am, the dance club across the street was still bumping (at one point there were easily 50 people lined up outside waiting to get in) so I plugged my ear holes and slept until noon.

Iceland Day 8 - Photos

Iceland Day 8 - No Treasures Here

I officially feel old now. I didn't quite lean out the window and yell at “those pesky kids” or call the cops or anything, but instead of being out partying with those pesky kids I put in the ear plugs I packed along when I learned the hotel was next to a dance club and was asleep by 1AM. I have finally joined the ranks of “squares.” But another day dawned and I eventually dawned with it. It seemed that some part of me felt guilty for the day of laziness yesterday so I ended up walking about 4 or 5 miles grand total around the shore front area along Sæbraut, which may or may not mean sea route.

Iceland Day 7 - Cut From Different Cloth

Between the return of the Icelandic Opera across the street and then just flat out sleeping like shit I dragged myself out of bed and that was about the most active I was all day. Except for walking a handful of blocks for dinner my day was pretty much just drifting from one coffee shop to another to read, drink coffee, and eat croissants (I'm not sure why that was the snack of choice all day, but it was). The coffee shops are great people watching places as they all look out on the main shopping street where the action is. It also doesn't hurt that the winter fashion for women seems to be big jackets and tights or really tight pants. They are quite often just wearing some kind of long shirt or short trouser-shorts over the tights, but the fact is they're still braving the cold ass weather wearing tights. I'm not sure how in the world that's even remotely comfortable, but I don't really care. Most Icelandic women seem to have amazing legs, presumably from all the walking, so it's greatly appreciated.

Iceland Day 6 - Photos

Iceland Day 6 - Of Fish and Freshness

Last night I fell asleep to the drunken lullabies of two guys outside the bar across the street singing what sounding like Icelandic opera. This morning I woke to the serenading tappa-tap of frozen rain being blown against my window. I think I preferred the drunk tenors, at least they gave up after an hour. The wind and frozen rain on the other hand faded in and out all day long. Despite the weather I was determined to get out and see a little more of the city. Up today was a jaunt downhill to the harbor, which sadly meant I had to jaunt back up the hill once I was finished.

Iceland Day 5 - Photos

Iceland Day 5 - Lazy Day

I think I've finally deciphered the weather here in Iceland. If the report says 50% chance of snow, that means it's going to snow half the day. Which is an improvement over the last several days. Actually it was only random patches of really light snow today. Even the wind played along, for the most part. It was however a good bit colder today but I still managed to snap a few more photos. Of particular note is the church Hallgrímskirkja (meaning “church of Hallgrímur” - a minister and one of Iceland's most famous poets). It's easily the most unique and identifiable part of the Icelandic skyline. Compared to a lot of the large churches you see back in the states it's a surprisingly small church considering it's the largest in the country. It does happen to have a beautiful, both aesthetically and aurally, pipe organ.

Iceland Day 4 - Delicate Delicacy

I'm beginning to think the abnormally inconvenient weather that has become the norm is just that – normal. I'm not really surprised by the temperatures, though they are a little cooler than I expected. I'm not even surprised by the snow, though it's been far more frequent than I thought. What I am surprised by is the wind. It just won't go away and it's completely unpredictable. Somehow on the approximately mile round-trip to dinner I was assaulted both from the front and back on both legs of the trip (it was not uphill both ways, though). The steady 10+ mph winds blowing little frozen daggers is annoying enough, but the swirly-twirly 30+ gusts that feel like they are cutting my ears and neck and making my eyes water like I'm crying is just infuriating. Also infuriating was the fact that while walking to and from dinner the wind was relentless, but the second I sat down in the restaurant not only did the wind die down, but the clouds parted and the moon was out. And yet I'm not having a bad time. Not by far. It seems to be making the experience that much better and every successful outing is a small victory over nature.

Iceland Day 3 - Photos

Iceland Day 3 - Unpredictable Normality

It seems that just about anywhere you go the locals have the same joke about the weather changing every 15 minutes. Nowhere else has that been more appropriate than my time so far in Reykjavik. One minute I look outside and the wind is blowing the torrents of rain sideways, and the next the clouds are parting and the sun is trying to peak through. By the time I got geared up to go outside, it had gotten dark again and the wind was whipping everything around. To give you an idea of the severity of the wind, the news was full of stories of trucks being flipped over while driving and cars being whipped to the side of the road. There was a brief period where the wind died down a bit and the rain never got to be more than a drizzle and I took advantage of that 15 minutes to snap a small handful of pictures. The weather again changed and by the time I had gotten back to my room I had a minor case of wind burn on my face and had avoided being blown into side streets from rogue gusts several times.

Iceland Day 2 - The Homebody

Sure, I could have stayed at home if all I was going to do was stay at home, but then I wouldn't get to watch Icelandic cartoons and eat skyr. It just wasn't the best of days to be out and about. With it snowing on and off all day, sometimes a thick and heavy snow and others and onslaught of tiny ice razors, and winds gusting over 40mph at times it was hard to stay outside for long. Despite the weather I did make a few trips outside to try and get a better feel for the immediate area. The hotel I'm staying in is on the main road in the entertainment and shopping district, known as 101 Reykjavik. On the Fridays and Saturdays there is an abundance of shopping and milling around the plethora of coffee shops during the day, and raucous partying until the wee hours of the morning. Most clubs in the area don't even close until 6am, and they stay busy and bumping the whole night. Sunday on the other hand is a day for church and nursing hangovers. The energetic and lively people I saw walking around on Saturday were replaced with haggard and rough looking people that obviously haven't had much, if any, sleep recently.

Iceland Day 1 ¾ - The Nearly Departed

I don't enjoy flying. It's not something I like doing. I don't like small spaces, and they quite often don't get smaller than the seats on airplanes. I always have this moment of anxiety right as the plane gets ready to take off, but by the time its in the air I'm over it. After all, what can I do about it at that point? The flight from Charlotte to JFK in New York was no different. That fear spiked as the engines revved up, and subsided while we were still gaining altitude. By the time the plane took off from JFK to fly to Reykjavik, worrying about being trapped, crashing, or my head suddenly exploding under unnatural pressures was the last thing on my mind. I just wanted to be done with it. The five hours between landing at JFK and taking off again had been less than enjoyable.

Iceland Prologue: A Failure To Communicate

OK, I admit it - I've done a horrible job of chronicling the days and weeks leading up to what is an extremely exciting and amazing trip for me. It's not that I haven't felt the same anticipation and feeling of significance that preceded my big preemptive midlife crisis last year. If anything, I'm escalating the stakes as this is my first international trip. OK, so I spent a month in Canada in the summer after graduating from High School and took a couple day trips to Tijuana (Fake Mexico), but those don't really count. For this trip I'm crossing an ocean, several time zones, and combating claustrophobia and a slight fear of flying to get to a harsh land of fiercely patriotic and culturally proud people that eat fermented shark, drink Viking beer and Black Death schnapps, and party like it's 1999 every single weekend.

The State of the Walkabout

It's been a lot longer in between major trips than I had ever anticipated. It's not that I haven't taken any, but none have been quite up to par for chronicling of Roadtrip Walkabout. The only one of any mention was a long weekend trip in which I took a quick blitzkrieg tour down the lower East Coast hitting Charleston, SC; Edisto Island, SC; Jekyll Island, GA; and St. Augustine, FL. It was a quick but fun mental sanity break that I took on the spur of the moment and other than a nights stay in the exclusive Jekyll Island Club Hotel and visit to the original Ripley's Museum in St. Augustine there wasn't a lot to talk about other than letting the steam in my brain blow out.

I've also had some setbacks in trips, with vacations being canceled and rescheduled. Had things worked out I would actually be in the middle of a two week train trip up the East Coast and across the US-Canadian border-states to Seattle and Portland. That trip has sadly been postponed until this December. Some good news however is that my next big trip is scheduled for this March when I spend two weeks in Iceland. This is my first overseas trip and starting shortly I am going to chronicle some of the things I've had to go through to make sure things go smoothly. So look forward to posts coming up in the next months leading up to the trip.