You Say Sandwich, We Say Yeah!

On the plane over to Reykjavik from Seattle, I watched "Horizons", a documentary on sculptor Steinunn Thórarinsdóttir . She said she enjoyed her public art piece at the Keflavik airport because every visitor is forced to see it. On my way out, and the beginning, or the middle, of a very long day of travel, I saluted my morning chicken sandwich to the four figures facing each direction of travel. And if you think a chicken sandwich is a strange choice for breakfast, it is not, as it wasn't really breakfast, though it was 8 a.m., but it was the 25th hour I would be awake in what would be 40 hours of semi consciousness.

I was brought to Sandholt, one of the oldest bakeries and restaurants in Reykjavik, to try the Kleiners, a sort of Icelandic doughnut that was apparently really good, but they had all sold out. Being hungry, but knowing we had a full day of eating ahead of us, my Icelandic/Winnipeg friend and I split a cheese and salami sandwich. It had a lot of soggy remoulade on it, like most things in Iceland, and it did not serve the brie or salami well at all.