That´s what I resemble here in Iceland among the impossibly glamorous Icelanders. I have a big blue thick jacket that is essentially an interestingly stitched sleeping bag (courtesy of mum), long johns under my jeans (ditto. My mother is seems has spent years preparing for her daughter´s eventual sojourn to colder climes) and a beany hat from MC. Sexy, it is not... but frankly it´s too cold to care.
Today we´re off to look at frozen waterfalls. That´s how cold it is. There is also talk of visiting the Blue Lagoon, a thermal spa. I´m fine with this but can´t quite grasp the concept of getting from the changing rooms to the outdoor spa itself clad in nothing but a swimming costume in minus temperatures. I am already campaigning for the return of Victorian bathing huts. I like the idea of somebody wheeling me down to the waters edge in the comfort of my own little house. Any volunteers?
It´s wonderful here. The country is beautiful - all covered in a carpet of snow. The people are beautiful too and their English is perfect. I´ve noticed that they don´t really believe in prepositions but who needs those tiny little words we fill sentences with? Oh - and tonight we party, Iceland style. This apparently involves some serious drinking. Ah well. When in Rome....!