The Getz Files

Flew in Friday night via Keflavik, Reykjavik's charming little airport. (Bill Bryson did the same in 1972, flying via Keflavik to Luxembourg because it was the only cheap flight available. Not quite in the footsteps of Dr. Johnson, but you take what you can get.) The airport has wooden floors, an Icelandic drink so dangerous it had to be packaged in black to deter people from buying it, and lots of sweater shops. I think the Icelandics are pretty tough people - it wasn't yet 7 in the morning and I saw people drinking brandy, beer, and disconcertingly, Amarula. The rest of the journey had the normal set of mishaps attendant on travel in the modern world, but I arrived in my new room in Den Haag safe and sound.

Next: Brief Interlude