Having settled in at the campsite and bravely dumped our stuff, we headed downtown on our bikes.
We were strolling unhurriedly through the center and noticed some graffiti — it turned out to be a little square, a gathering spot for alternative youth. To be fair, the capital of Iceland is so permeated with the spirit of hipsterism, partying, and drinking that you can't really tell where the formal youth ends and the informal begins. It's unlikely anyone there worries about this question as much as I do. I occasionally feel like I don't fit in anywhere: I'm a bookworm and a geek, yet I hang out at the gym all evening; I'm a bicycle tourist and a general advocate of a healthy lifestyle who's never touched a drop, yet I go to smoke-filled raves to dance until morning. I'm a materialist and an atheist to the core, yet I do yoga, and the Buddhist worldview and philosophy make total sense to me. I believe I have strong moral principles, but they're so broad that for most people they are far too liberal, and voicing my tolerance for minorities in a circle of conservative regular folks means asking for trouble.
A man with a thousand faces, and where the real one is, who knows. It would be nice to feel like an insider in all these crowds, but it often turns out that you feel like a stranger everywhere. You shouldn't overthink it, of course, but nevertheless, people judge by social codes: looks and behavior. If they see you're not part of the scene, it'll be harder to win their trust.
In a place called “Tea and Coffee” I drank some coffee for three lats, but that was tomorrow
Lebedev-style
Bears
A giraffe in 3D glasses
An ad for the music of Sigur Rós, the most famous Icelandic band after Björk
Graffiti
A boat
A curtain-style fountain
What's above are still photos from the day of our arrival in Iceland, but below are some actual photos from Saturday evening.
Graffiti
Look who's talking, definitely not the Icelanders
Why 404?
I'm pretty bad at taking in visual art, my eyesight is shitty
That very hipster square
Luck smiled upon us once again — all my pants had ripped during my falls, and I had nothing to wear to decent places. Fortunately, a “free market” was taking place right in the hipster square: bring what you don't need so others can take it, and grab something you need yourself. Andrey found some stylish pants, not in his size, but in mine. They even had paint stains on them — you could play the artist and pick up girls, that is, if I knew how to lie even the slightest bit.
Written loud and clear
In the corner of the square, dreadlocked hippies were smoking weed; no other signs of debauchery were spotted, unless you count the endless number of bars, pubs, clubs, and similar establishments. Funny enough, right there in the square was an inconspicuous door leading to a club called “Factory,” where some guy was playing electro-dub right at that moment. True, only a few little black kids were dancing to it, but they did so with enthusiasm. The electro-dub was followed by some Icelandic rock band that drew in quite a crowd but failed to impress me, even though I honestly listened to them for almost half an hour.
It couldn't go without some familiar themes, too
In the backyards of the “Factory” club
For the first time on my travels I saw a bike of my own model, and not just one
It got dark after that, and you'll have to take my word for it that we roamed the streets for a long time, occasionally peeking into bars where I, as a non-drinking non-regular, feel uncomfortable. But I really wanted to get at least a glimpse into the wondrous world of trendy partygoers and ravers, people living in the present moment, happy and joyful. Their cheerfulness feels particularly striking after the world of gloomy mountains, pouring rain, cold, and wind.
In one of the bars, a guy and a girl performed “Euphoria” from Eurovision to an acoustic guitar, while an unknown football fan made Andrey kiss some golden cup and raise it over his head. The central street, Laugavegur, is packed with people until morning, and we were there on a Saturday night — word is the real fun happens on Friday. Apart from the partygoers, there are also believers who tried to recruit Andrey to join them. “Jesus died for our sins, so come join us for our food” — that's roughly how the dialogue was built, as they were handing out meals. It would've come in handy for us, sure, but I'm not selling my soul to God for a lousy sandwich.
We didn't stick around downtown for too long; after all, you remember this is the same day when I was complaining that I had absolutely zero strength left to ride. As you can see, I had nothing left for riding, but plenty left for walking, although there was a slight challenge in not falling asleep on the go.
To sum it up, night-time Reykjavik gives off a very cute and homey vibe. Life is booming, everyone is boozing and having fun, but the size of the city is still quite modest, the central streets are easy to remember, and the patrons of the watering holes are mostly locals. I recently visited Copenhagen, too — the scale there is huge, crowds of foreigners, and queues everywhere, even in Burger King, even though the prices are just as exorbitant as in Iceland.
Reykjavik appeals to me with its charm and coziness, but in Copenhagen everyone rides bikes — I don't even know which to prefer. Both cities, of course, make a massive impression with the glow of their prosperity. However, the dark sides of having a surplus of cash are more noticeable in Copenhagen — which is understandable. There are many reasons: there is still incomparably more money in Copenhagen, and police and customs control isn't as strict. Iceland, after all, is an island, people all know each other, you can't keep a secret, and immigration laws are strict. What I meant in these last few sentences, I leave to the reader to guess as an independent exercise.