Iceland makes for a wonderful break

The landscapes in Iceland are almost otherworldly Reykjavík - Arabstoday Everyone knows Iceland is wacky. There are so many volcanoes that the whole place could be barbecued at any moment. It stays light all night in summer and dark most of the day in winter, and its history goes back centuries but the oldest building still standing was constructed a mere 250 years ago. And then there’s the people. The sane ones all disappear as soon as they’re old enough to apply for a passport, leaving the utterly charming but completely kooky to run the show. In Britain, we don’t hear much about them unless their banks run out of money (2008) or one of their charred mountains erupts and grounds planes all over the world (2010) or when the leaders of the two super- powers get together for a summit (1986). When the young get stroppy with their president, Olafur Grimsson – who is about to complete 16 years in the job and is standing yet again for re-election - they congregate in the main square and bang pots and pans together. And, of course, don’t forget Bjork. I rest my case. Wacky – but strangely wonderful, exhilarating, primal. In fact, I’ve never experienced anything quite like it. At times, it felt like visiting a film set depicting the end of the world, with boiling water bubbling just beneath the surface, steam escaping into the cold, invigorating air and mile upon mile of blackened lava fields. At others – in Reykjavik, especially - it was like wandering around a toy-town or theme park before they let the punters in. Where is everyone? I kept asking myself. There were shops but no one in them. There were churches but their doors were locked, and in the city’s futuristic, underground museum there were two members of staff - and me. Even our guide seemed to accept that Iceland is an acquired taste. \'It’s natural selection,\' he said. \'The people who are here really want to be here and know that they could not live anywhere else.\' Certainly, they seem a contented lot and they live longer than almost anywhere on the planet. There are some 300,000 of them in total, of which around half are in the capital. It’s the most sparsely populated country in Europe. And that’s why it suits those who relish a sense of isolation and who love the big outdoors. Not for nothing did the astronauts who walked on the moon come here to test-drive their buggy.   Getting to and from this wilderness plonked in the middle of the Atlantic is easier than ever, courtesy of easyJet, which recently introduced three flights a week. It takes less than three hours and there are some attractive deals to be had. We stayed at the four-star Borg Hotel, where you can bag three nights, including flights from £505 per person. It’s no bad thing to save a few pennies up front because it’s not cheap once you arrive, although much cheaper than it was before the crash. Relations haven’t been easy with Britain following the banking crisis – or, rather, ever since Iceland refused to pay back loans to us and the Dutch. At the time, Alistair Darling, then Chancellor, used anti-terrorist legislation to freeze the UK assets of one of Iceland’s failed banks and the president didn’t take kindly to that. But, since then, a charm offensive has been launched, with Grimsson urging his fellow countrymen to invite visitors into their homes, even opening up his own offices to the public and offering pancakes to passers-by. The set-pieces in Iceland are crucial. Our first stop was Geysir, the mother of all hot springs, where the champion boiling water fountain is called Strokkur. Surrounded by tourists (plenty of American and Japanese, all of the hard core travel-with-tent variety), old Strokkur gurgles and spits and then every five minutes or so he throws water 30 metres in the air. There’s water flying about, too – millions upon millions of tons of it - a few miles down the road at Gullfoss, where a series of waterfalls comes together in spectacular fashion before joining forces and disappearing over a steep canyon. What makes it so thrilling is that you can wander down and stand on rocks a few metres from the rushing torrents. Anywhere else in the world and health and safety would restrict you to some ghastly viewing platform hundreds of yards away from the action. Come to think of it, I don’t recall seeing a policeman, traffic warden or any other bossy official during our entire stay. The only inconvenience we encountered was a slight lack of snow for our snowmobile adventure and a no-show from the Northern Lights when they were meant to be performing better than ever. Along the way, we had an eccentric lunch at Lindin Bistro in a remote spot called Laugarvatn, with bread baked underground and a chocolate mousse made in heaven. In the capital, we breezed into KEX, clearly one of the trendiest bar/restaurants in town (jointly owned by the ex Chelsea footballer, Eidur Gudjohnsen) but entirely lacking in pretension. There was live music but it did not preclude conversation. The dark ales lightened the mood and everyone seemed comfortable with each other and with themselves. We feasted on salted fish brandata and a classic coq au vin. Our guide had made a point of saying that \'if you show an Icelander a puddle of water he’ll dive into it.\' One of the biggest puddles on the island is the Blue Lagoon, which holds six million litres of geothermal seawater. This communal bath is meant to work wonders for your skin and general well-being. \'It’s like being in a giant kettle,\' shouted an excited English student from the north of England. She and her pals were on a school trip and I just hope their adventure included a peep at Harpa, the square futuristic building that houses Reykjavik’s main concert hall. It’s a spectacular creation that comes with all kinds of visual trickery. At night, it goes all psychedelic and flickers feverishly. Perhaps that’s where all Iceland’s savings went. Those students would also have enjoyed the Reykjavik Art Museum - though I couldn’t make head or tail of a video installation by Santiago Sierra, showing six young Cubans being tattooed. But that was the point, I concluded, and completely in keeping with Iceland’s unfathomable charms. This came to me as I waded through the Blue Lagoon rubbing mud on my face with one hand, carrying a plastic glass of beer in the other and pretending that this was a perfectly normal way to spend a Monday afternoon.