36 Hours

At some point after our failed Christmas trip, we thought it would be a good idea to spend 36 hours in Reykjavik and Thingvellir National Park.

You know, for a weekend.

Not even a long weekend.  Just…an ordinary one.

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This was in no way a bad idea.

You may know that I fell in love with Iceland whilst I was in law school.  It was all because of this silly Washington Post article about the public pools.

I love water; I love baths.  When in doubt, I run to the nearest body of water.  That strategy has never failed me.  And when I finally went to Iceland, the water did not disappoint.

Nor did the water disappoint on this quick trip.

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To everything there is a season, and a time.  And it was time for me to go back to Iceland.

And sometimes, one just needs to rinse off some bad memories; one needs the cool, jagged, volcanic moonscape of a familiar and foreign place.  So that was what we did; that was where we went.

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And really, that’s what my life is like.  It’s all just sort-of wonderfully jagged and strange.

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