7/13/25: Reykjavik Walking Tour

 

July 12th, 2025: Our new adventure begins as we leave Denver's sweltering temperatures and are ready to embark on a more expansive exploration of Iceland, then a ferry ride up Greenland's west coast, several days in Arctic Canada, before flying to 'southern Canada' and my hometown of Ottawa in late August for the burial of my brother's ashes. As much as we have traveled, Steven and I will still never get used to hopping on a plane and finding ourselves in some distant land hours later. The novelty has yet to wear off, thank goodness! 

After our jaunt across the pond, we picked up our rental car and made our way to Reykjavik's downtown core to explore the city on our own. In 2013, the city was our first international destination on a trip that began in Iceland and ended in Thailand, via the Trans-Siberian Express train across Russia, Mongolia, and a substantial portion of China, before continuing to tour Cambodia. We were curious about what we remembered of the capital city and what might have changed in the last dozen years. 

We began our walk in Ingólfstorg, the city's main square, which was named after Ingólfur Arnarson, who, according to Icelandic sagas, settled in what is now Reykjavik, meaning "Smoky Bay," in 874. In the middle of the square were two stone pillars, one marked 874, that archaeologists have confirmed was the location of the original Reykjavik farm.

The yellow building was one of several colorful buildings from the early 20th century that lined Vesturgata, also known as West Street. It was once the base of the town pier when the waterfront came all the way to this point. When the king of Denmark visited Iceland in 1874, his fleet anchored in the harbor, and he came ashore on a small boat right here. 

It was hard to see in the drizzle, but the brass plaque in front of the yellow building marked the "Hub of Reykjavik," for the symbolic gateway to the city and the spot from which the city's addresses radiate. 

The unusual exterior of the Art Museum was the first of several buildings that caught our eye in Reykjavik. 

As an avid knitter, I drooled at the fine yarns, but cringed when I saw the cost!

Just a couple of blocks away from the bustling downtown area were sleepy residential streets, such as Mjóstræti or Narrow St. Many of the homes were sided with vertical corrugated metal, generally steel galvanized with zinc, a common practice since the late 19th century. The metal sheets often covered and protected older wooden walls. Wooden homes were scarce on this almost treeless island, as wood had to be imported and didn't fare well in the harsh climate. The metal stands up well to the punishing wind and sideways rain, doesn't burn, is inexpensive, and easy to maintain and transport.

This was the home of Benedikt Gröndal (1826-1907), a prolific author, poet, and natural scientist whose autobiography is considered a classic of Icelandic literature. 

Steven posed by one of Reykjavik's distinctive, McDonald's-like colored fire hydrants, some of which were decorated with faces!

We noticed many propped-open windows, which were due to Icelanders mainly heating their homes with geothermal hot water, harnessing the substantial natural power of their volcanic island. With radiators in every room, but no central thermostat, windows are opened to create a cross breeze when things get too warm or stuffy.

Though it felt little more than an alley, Aðalstræti or Main Street, was the city's first thoroughfare, and the one-story black house was the city's oldest home, and now part of the Reykjavik City Museum.

A couple of blocks away was the home of Theodóra Thoroddsen (1863-1954), one of Iceland's best-known poets of the thula, a genre of long poems that originated in the Icelandic oral tradition. As a mother of 13, she also wrote extensively about the reality of women. 

Opposite the poet's home was a statue of Skúli Magnússon in a small square with a few trees. Magnússon's enterprises in the mid-1700s played a significant role in transforming Reykjavik from a small farming community into a thriving town. 

The square was the village churchyard and cemetery for over 800 years, shortly after the island converted to Christianity in 1000, until 1838. 

The city's oldest tree, a Swedish whitebeam planted in the late 19th century, was still flourishing. 

When the Hotel Reykjavik Centrum was being built across the street from the square in 2001, workers unearthed the ruins of a 10th-century Scandinavian longhouse, part of the original Reykjavik farm. While Steven caught up on some z's from our overnight flight, I toured the excellent Settlement Exhibition, which was built around the ruins. I liked how the old longhouse shape was reimagined in the paving stones out front!

Traditionally, the settlement of Iceland is considered to have begun in the year 870, marking one of the most significant dates in the country's history. The excavation of the site was critical in dating the settlement of Iceland. Part of a turf wall was discovered underneath "the settlement layer" of volcanic ash that was known to have fallen over southwest Iceland and also onto the Greenland ice sheet. By counting the layers in the ice down to the settlement layer, scientists were able to date it with considerable accuracy. The volcanic fissure that deposited the ash erupted around 871, about the same time the settlers were arriving in Iceland. All around the town, we had seen signs that said 871+/-2; now we knew why!

I found this timeline helpful: 

About 100,000 years ago, homo sapiens emerged in Africa.

About 12,000 years ago, all continents except Antarctica had been settled.

About 5,000 years ago, most of the world's largest islands were settled.

About 500-1,500 years ago, Hawaii, Madagascar, and New Zealand were settled. 

About 1,000 years ago, Iceland was settled. 

The building, variously referred to as a hall and a longhouse, was likely the home of wealthy farmers due to the abundance of nearby resources available to them. Archaeologists were able to determine that the over 20m-long and 8m-wide hall was probably home to 10-12 people, which was only inhabited from about 930 to 1000, possibly due to damage from a spring that still runs under it. Four halls of the same period have been discovered in the surrounding area through archaeological excavations over the years. 

The size of the building neither confirmed nor ruled out whether a chieftain might have lived there. Some of the objects found on the site, however, indicated that the inhabitants were prosperous and that the long central hearth was larger and better constructed than the others. 

Although the settlers came to Iceland from Scandinavia, the British Isles, and other countries, it's known that Norse culture was predominant in the 10th century. This is evidenced by the language, genetic research, and social structures that developed in Iceland. When I think of the word 'slavery,' the only image that comes to mind is the African Trans-Atlantic slave trade, not women captured or purchased in the British Isles by the early settlers. Recent research on the Icelandic genome has found that most of the male settlers originated from Norway, while more than half of the women came from the British Isles. Slavery is believed to have died out in Iceland in the 11th century when the population had significantly expanded. 

The land we know as Iceland may have been chosen for settlement because it had abundant resources, with plentiful fishing in the sea, lakes, and rivers, a good natural harbor, areas suitable for grazing with little chance of livestock being lost, good conditions for cultivating crops, and plenty of diverse natural resources. 

When the early settlers arrived, the hills around Reykjavik were covered in birchwoods. A mere 100 years later, those woods had all but disappeared, with trees cut down or burned for grazing and meadowland. The wood was also used to make charcoal, which was necessary for iron smelting, as fuel, in building, and in carpentry. The result is a largely treeless land.  

You can put it down to my being tired from the flight, but I had trouble visualizing the longhouse ruins from the display. However, it was interesting to realize that the 10th-century Viking-age hall and part of a wall were the oldest man-made structures found in the capital. 

The museum continued with exhibits about the city's development from the Reykjavik City Museum, ending inside the site of the city's oldest house. One room was decorated to resemble one of the city's best-known grocery stores, Silli & Valdi, which had been in operation from 1927 to 1975. It was the same room that had the cans of Del Monte fruit I'd noticed earlier in the window.

The second resembled the office that belonged to Geir Valdin, Iceland's Bishop, from 1801 until his death in 1823. He was remembered as an impecunious fisherman who enjoyed speaking Latin with English guests. Known as Bishop Geir the Good, he and his wife were renowned for their generous hospitality. 

In a city not generally known for its striking architecture, the unusual coloration of the corner building caught my attention.

A couple of blocks away was the concrete-and-glass Reykjavik City Hall, which served as a ceremonial hall for the city's residents, as most city offices were located outside the center. The only reason the building intrigued us was its mammoth wooden relief map of the country, displayed in front of large windows overlooking a small lake. I enjoyed picking out the major landforms, such as the fjords that span most of the country, the ominous volcanic peaks along the South Coast, and the mountainous Troll Peninsula. 

Behind City Hall was a miniature lake that seemed apropos, given the capital was small, as was the country! I'm sure we could all find humor in the quirky statue of the Faceless Bureaucrat at the edge of the pond! Just like in Ottawa, The Pond is used as a skating rink in the winter.

On the left of the pond was the historic Free Church of Reykjavik, a Lutheran congregation that broke free from the state church over a difference of opinion regarding social issues. 

Next to the statue was the Iðnó, Reykjavik's old theater, now used as a cultural space for those who aren't concerned about it possibly being haunted, mind you!

For some reason, I have a vivid memory of my almost dozing off on a bench in this tiny park during a guided walk of the Parliament area when we were last here in the fall of 2013! I'm sure it was no reflection of the guide, but rather a result of being tired after the overnight flight.

Austurvöllur, roughly translated as Eastern Field, is the political center of the small country. The statue on the pillar in the middle of the square was of Jón Sigurðsson (1811-1879), the leader of the 19th-century Icelandic independence movement from the Danish crown. 

While other European nations were also agitating for freer trade and a constitution to reduce the king's power, and some took up arms, Icelanders achieved their goals without firing a shot, mainly due to the articulate persistence of Sigurðsson. 

The stone building facing the square and the statue is Iceland's parliament, the Alpingi, which Icelanders like to refer to as the "world's oldest parliament." Let's table that for the next post, when it'll become clear. Notice the crowned 9 on the building's gable. It represents King Christian 1X, the Danish ruler in 1881 when the building was constructed. Engraved over four of the upstairs windows of the Alpingi were the mythical "four protectors of Iceland," dragon, eagle, giant, and bull, which also appear on the country's coat of arms and many coins. 

Beside the Alpingi was the statue of Ingibjör Bjarnason (1867-1941), a teacher who was the first woman elected to Iceland's parliament in 1922, two years after Icelandic women gained the right to vote.

At the corner of the park was a large chunk of rock split in half called The Black Cone. The monument to civil disobedience was placed here in 2012, when memories of the 2008-09 protests, which blamed the government for the country's financial disaster, were still painfully raw for many people. 

Across the park, was the city's Lutheran Cathedral, built in the 1790s and expanded in the 1840s. It seemed oddly small for a capital city, and although there are larger churches in the city, the cathedral remains in use for weddings, funerals, and the opening of parliament. 

The first building we noticed on Reykjavik's main drag, Austurstræti, just a block away, was the cherry-colored former post office, and now a food hall.  

The old meets new building across the street was the Landsbankinn, founded in 1886 as the country's national bank. It was privatized around 2000 and failed spectacularly in 2008, before continuing operations under a new name. 

There are no McDonald's in Iceland, but the country does love its hot dogs! One of the most famous purveyors of weenies is this famous hot dog stand, which has been serving them to an enthusiastic following since 1937. 

At the end of the street was Kolaportið Flea Market, which is only open on weekends, so we lucked out. I looked at second-hand, hand-knit Icelandic sweaters, but the prices still made my eyes water, and I didn't have the room for one either. Walking through the small food section was like taking a crash course in Icelandic gastronomy.

Seabird eggs from the auk family:

Frozen cod, plaice, and haddock were all for sale.

Fancy and dried fish crumbs for your pet? They only cost about 2,000 Icelandic krona, or $16 each.

Don't be squeamish - here was horse meat of all kinds. Just wait a few days until you see photos of the cutest Icelandic horses, and you know where some of them may end up. 

Rúgbrauð is a sweet, dark bread that's considered an Icelandic specialty, as it's steam-baked by burying it underground in thermal areas. You'll also see more of this in an upcoming post!

The Art Deco-style facade of the Apotek Hotel had its own Brutalist macho men at the corners!

The 1920s relief on another building depicted an imagined scene from the country's settlement era, with an established settler shaking hands with a new settler, whose crew is removing the mast from its longship. 

The 1937 Water Carrier sculpture was dedicated to the women who carried water from a water pump to the houses in town. As the piece of art was considered too unconventional at the time, it was only installed in 2011.

In the 1700s, the first building to be constructed in Reykjavik of something more permanent than turf or timber was not a church or palace but a prison built across from the village center. It is now, irony of all ironies, the Office of the Prime Minister!

As we meandered up Bankastræti, we kept our eyes peeled for large street art murals, many of which were done by women, that taggers had left alone. Blank walls, however, were another matter!

Skólavörðustígur, also known as School Cairn Lane, got its name from the pile of rocks that Reykjavik schoolchildren set up long ago atop the hill. More recently, it's been dubbed Rainbow Street for the colorful mural painted at the bottom end. Our goal was to be like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, and follow the yellow-brick road to the church at the top of the hill!

The Penalty House: 

As we neared the massive church at the top of the street, we noticed more houses had the corrugated metal siding we'd first come across in the older part of town. 

The gables reminded us of those found throughout Amsterdam. 

After Reykjavik's Catholic minority built their church atop a hill west of downtown in 1929, Lutheran elders felt compelled to keep pace. They hired the same architect, commissioning him to design a taller, larger church on a higher hill to the east of downtown. Designed in the 1930s, 250-foot-tall Hallgrimskirkja wasn't completed until the 1980s. Its basalt column motif soaring skyward brought to mind Iceland's volcanic origins. The church was named for the 17th-century Icelandic poet, Hallgrímur Pétursson, who wrote a series of 50 hymns about the Passion of Christ. 

In front of the church was a statue of Leifur Eiriksson (circa 970-1020), known as Leif Erikson to Americans, and believed to be the first European to set foot on North America, according to the Icelandic sagas. About five centuries before Christopher Columbus, Leifur and his crew set foot in the New World, likely in L'Anse aux Meadows, in today's Newfoundland, where there are ruins of a Viking Age complex. 

Standing in the austere nave of Reykjavik's most recognizable icon, we were struck once again by the sleek space and the absence of adornment. No stained glass drew our eyes away from the front of the church and the simple altar.

Notice how the ends of the pews mimicked the stair-step steeple we'd just seen outside. The pews were reversible, with the seat backs flipping over to face the organ so that, in keeping with Lutheranism, the most important aspects of worship are the sermon (heard from the pulpit) and the music (heard from the organ). It was also very practical, especially for smaller towns, as one building often serves double duty as both a church and a concert hall. 

The massive organ was crowdfunded in 1991, with people paying to sponsor individual pipes!

As I've often remarked in posts from other countries, we were again extraordinarily lucky as an organist began playing, or was it practicing, immediately after we'd finished admiring the church! We welcomed the musical interlude after walking for over five miles. 

We walked back through a neighborhood whose streets were named after gods in Old Norse mythology. 

Next post: Driving the famous Golden Circle in southern Iceland.

Posted extremely late on July 18th, 2025, from Helgafell, a hamlet on Iceland's glorious Snæfellsnes Peninsula. I know this post is lonnnnnng - I vow to keep upcoming ones much shorter for your enjoyment and my sanity! As always, please take care of yourself and your loved ones.