This unpredictable Icelandic weather has us stranded. I want to drive on, but Pete, the sensible one, with the help of a gas station attendant, has convinced me that it might not be in our best interest to continue during this windy snow storm that may make several mountain roads impassable. I pout and whine, because I know the days are dwindling away. Soon we will be home, back at our jobs and there is still so much to see.
If we have to be stuck somewhere it might as well be Iceland's second largest city Akureyri with it's coffee shops, multiple lodging options and movie theaters. We consider staying at an apartment with its own patio hot tub, but reconsider because of the price, settling for a quaint basement apartment that looks as though it stepped straight out of the 70's. After treating ourselves to dinner and a movie, we start a fire in our wood burning stove that the owner assured us works. After only a few minutes smoke fills the room, fire alarms go off and we hear a banging on the door. When Pete answers I hear angry broken English saying "No fire! No Fire!", coming from what I imagine is a 7 foot viking with an axe in hand. Turns out it was our shorter-than-Pete upstairs neighbor that looked more like a hippy than a viking. Still, though, we feel terrible; this poor dude probably has to work tomorrow and the rowdy American tourists may burn down his home. Eventually the fire and smoke subside. In the morning we are still embarrassed, so we sneak out early and check into the swanky apartment we considered in the first place and don't leave until the skies clear.
