After seven nights camping, colder weather and a sour stomach pushed us indoors. To be more precise we slept in an overturned barrel. Or at least that is what our lodging most resembles. it is a quite large wood barrel with a small kitchen, comfy bed, smart TV and a shower that floods not only the bathroom but half the kitchen as well. It is, in one word, paradise.

The barrel is located near Reykholt which is about an hour north of Reykjavik. Reykholt is the legendary home of Snori who was Iceland’s greatest medieval poet. He also preserved several of the sagas, built up an empire of sorts within Iceland, fathered dozens of children then went out GOT style after angering the King of Norway. The dude was badass. And his hot tub has been restored and sits in the open next to the Reykholt elementary school. You can also visit a nice museum housed in the basement of a church and wander into a restored nineteenth century church.

So we did that. And we saw some waterfalls. But mostly over the last two days we chilled in a barrel while watching so-so films on Netflix. Henna meanwhile witnessed a volcanic eruption from the safety of her dorm (just a puff of smoke in the horizon), rode out dozens of earthquakes and has made some great friends while at the same time learning the basic grammar rules of Icelandic.