One thing that we have discovered this year (although we've perhaps known this all along but didn't really want to admit to ourselves) was that we are not the best decision makers when it comes to deciding where to go and what to do. It is basically a problem where we simply want to see and experience the whole world and have to settle for mere accessible fractions of twenty to thirty countries, and even in that effort we were short on time. Ok, reader sympathy not really expected and the phrase "first world problem" might apply here. However an occasional argument would erupt between Ben and I when planning countries to visit, whereupon one of us (usually me) would venture a suggestion of perhaps an extra week or two to visit say, Turkey or Croatia or India or … the list goes on. The running joke was for one of us (usually Ben) to say "How about Iceland then?!" at which point we would both smile and get back on track to realistic travel planning.
It was midday in Paris and it was past crunch time. Today we needed to be heading somewhere else, but it was very evident that our decision making skills had not overly improved during the six months that we had been travelling. Long story short, we had been debating options of where and when to go after Paris for so long that we were stuck between missing Layla's 30th birthday (not an option) and budget-crushing travel costs (last minute Eurostar and flight prices were stratospheric). Irritated by the cost of this short distance, we compared this to flying - oh what the heck - to Iceland and back and found it was less than half the cost. Egged on by our good friend Zya (who also seconded my notion to slap on a couple of weeks in India to the end of our trip) we booked our tickets in the afternoon, scored a ride to the airport, and we were flying from Paris to Reykyavik that night. We were so late in the game that our booking hadn't even made it through Aéroport d’Orly's system when we tried to check in, but they let us on anyway.
We arrived at Keflavík Airport at 2am in the morning, but it was the middle of summer a fraction south of the arctic circle so it would not get dark for a few months. This fascinated us immensely, naturally. Plus we still couldn't believe we were in Iceland, of all places on earth.
It was midday in Paris and it was past crunch time. Today we needed to be heading somewhere else, but it was very evident that our decision making skills had not overly improved during the six months that we had been travelling. Long story short, we had been debating options of where and when to go after Paris for so long that we were stuck between missing Layla's 30th birthday (not an option) and budget-crushing travel costs (last minute Eurostar and flight prices were stratospheric). Irritated by the cost of this short distance, we compared this to flying - oh what the heck - to Iceland and back and found it was less than half the cost. Egged on by our good friend Zya (who also seconded my notion to slap on a couple of weeks in India to the end of our trip) we booked our tickets in the afternoon, scored a ride to the airport, and we were flying from Paris to Reykyavik that night. We were so late in the game that our booking hadn't even made it through Aéroport d’Orly's system when we tried to check in, but they let us on anyway.
We arrived at Keflavík Airport at 2am in the morning, but it was the middle of summer a fraction south of the arctic circle so it would not get dark for a few months. This fascinated us immensely, naturally. Plus we still couldn't believe we were in Iceland, of all places on earth.
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