Reykjavik is a funny sort of town. Sitting at 64 degrees north, it’s just two ticks below the Arctic Circle. The architecture is heavy and hardy, a mix of volcanic stones and corrugated steel, perfect for huddling against the tempestuous winds and trying temperatures of a typical Icelandic winter. And on your first arrival, you almost expect the same from the people: Will they be grim, with inscrutable faces similarly drawn to keep the cold at bay?
Not at all, as it turns out. Perhaps all those seasons away from the sun have contributed to a strong sense of irony. Few can rival the Icelanders when it comes to a wry sense of humor. Or, maybe they benefit from all the time that they spend soaking up the geothermal forces of the earth….