Day 7, I dunno what damned day it is, the sun never comes up.

Just kidding, the sun was out all four hours of daylight today and it was lovely. Walked all around Reykjavik and up to Hallgrimskirkja, the big Lutheran Church, which is nice-ish but definitely Lutheran. It's nothing much, really. Trinity Episcopal in Asheville was nicer, and First Presbyterian in Greensboro even makes it look like a poo. The organ was nice, though; I'd like to hear that. But, the interior was about as interesting as a courthouse. The vaulted ceilings were great, the unadorned concrete was not, and there wasn't a lick of stained glass anywhere to be found. And the carpet was worn thin. If this is how Icelanders take care of the biggest damn church in Iceland, then something something blah blah metaphor.

Aside from that I wandered aimlessly around Reykjavik, got ignored by another shopkeeper in the Ostabudhinn (Cheese Shop), and went to 12 Tonar, which is probably the coolest thing I've found here yet. It's a great record store with their own label that allows you to sit and listen to whatever you want, and they even make you coffee if you so desire. The staff there is friendly (for Icelanders) and very helpful with suggestions.

After that I took a bus out to the middle of nowhere again because I missed my stop, but it was good because I could see the mountains better, and I went to a bakery and got some weird Icelandic pastries and the first piece of passable carrot cake I've had here yet. (This is attempt number three.)

So in other words, I'm pretty much doing the same damn things I do in Greensboro. Listening to music, being irritated by Protestants, and eating cake.

Now for some more thoughts on Icelandic manners. Some people might dismiss the rudeness as being cultural. I do not concur.
"Cultural" is:
folk dances
national costumes
odd animal parts as comestibles
squeaky fiddle music
historical reenactments
whaling
that sort of thing.

"Cultural" is not:
being a dick to anyone different from you. That's called xenophobia.

And, as I've previously stated, all of your contemporary culture is stolen from us. Your 101 Reykjavik bullshit is just a snottier verision of Athens, GA, Asheville, NC, or Portland, OR, (assraped by the bacchanalian excess of the French Quarter during Mardi Gras) only less authentic because you don't have to look for indie music. Your commercial stations play it for you, which means you don't even have to put any effort into finding out about it. Oh, and we've been paying too much for secondhand clothes far longer than you have so don't act like it makes you special. There's nothing Icelandic about you, except your accursed language. Just go ahead and move to Williamsburg, Brooklyn so you can keep company with another bunch of self-referential assholes who think they're the be-all and end-all of just about damn near everything. You can live in tiny apartments there too.