Granny’s Gone CouchSurfing – to Iceland…
Picture… The Blue Lagoon.
“Just to warn you,” I announce at family Sunday lunch, “I won’t be around for baby sitting duties for a while; I’ve started a blog, ‘Granny’s Gone CouchSurfing’ and next weekend will be my first trip…to Iceland!”
I laugh at their bemused expressions: “Darlings, don’t worry! Everyone gets verified and no money is involved; CouchSurfing is safe – noble even, it’s aim is: ‘to create meaningful connections between ordinary people’,” nothing bad will happen.
My Iceland Express flight lands in Reykjavík in bright sunshine – which feels odd, as it’s 10pm. The bus ride into town passes through an otherworldly, bleak expanse of treeless, lava field; but as we approach the suburbs the scene livens up. People are still out – with children too, making the most of their summer I suppose, where the sun sets near midnight then rises around 3am.
Anya is my CouchSurfing host; she’s a kindergarten teacher, mid-forties. She says with a rueful smile, “I’m still single sad to say. ” My ‘couch’ is a chaise longue in the corner of the living room, “You might want to use the blinds as it doesn’t get dark”, she says.
Despite the lateness of the hour, Anya cheerfully suggests supper at the Café Paris in town. Reykjavik’s small town centre has that European, pavement café buzz that I love and, I reflect, what’s missing in London. All generations are here: parents with toddlers, canoodling youths, the elderly – as well as the familiar, cool singles’ crowd.
Over supper Anya explains that Reykjavík means ‘smoky bay’ because here the earth’s hot crust is close to the surface. Steam from subterranean water, is heated by volcanic energy which escapes through natural vents. Nowadays it’s piped into homes for heat. Icelanders also enjoy low-cost power from hydro-electricity generated by waterfalls.
Next morning it’s Saturday so she doesn’t have to work. “Let’s drive out to the Blue Lagoon.” She suggests. For tourists wanting ‘wow factor’ – this is it: a capacious, unearthly looking, blue warm lake. We wade in and head straight for the floating bar for a glass of champagne. A sign reads: ‘Three glasses maximum per person’!
Later, back in town, over supper in the fascinating Laundromat Café, I mention to Anya that I’d read reports of Reykjavik’s recent ‘pots and pans revolution’ and ask her for an insider’s view. “Well,” she says, “for many weeks almost everyone took part in the demonstrations outside our Parliament (the Althing). We bashed our message to the politicians on our saucepans to let them know how upset we were at the IMF demands that ordinary Icelanders must pay for the (2008) bank crash. Meanwhile, the bankers who’d gambled away everyone’s savings, (including ours) had fled!”
She went on: “Eventually, a referendum was held and 93% of our population voted No! Our Government fell and the news went viral.” Thoughtfully she adds, “One good result seems to be that tourism has increased.” I chip in, “Yes, I think there are many who, like me, saw it as plucky little Iceland standing up to the big bad global banks: that’s what brought me here – and I’ll certainly be back!”
Anya beams, “There we are, CouchSurfing plus solidarity tourism, both helping with Iceland’s cultural and economic recovery – who’d have thought!” End
Granny's Gone CouchSurfing 