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It was very cool.,,0,0,1,1,22,0,UleadAntiAlias,1,1,1,23,0,1,1,24,0"> <param name=number value="8,1,1,0"> <param name=background value="ffffff,1,4,0,0,167804495,Ulead Button.Applet v1.0,,,0"> </applet></TD> <TD ALIGN=right VALIGN=top WIDTH="80%"> <IMG SRC="http://www.lionessden.com/graphics/lifenstuff.JPG"> <HR> <P ALIGN="right"> <FONT FACE="Courier New" SIZE="-1" COLOR="FF0000"> <B><I>letters from iceland</B> </P> </TD> </TR> </TABLE> </HEAD> <BODY TEXT="#000000" LINK="FF0000" VLINK="A9A9A9" ALINK="A9A9A9"> <TABLE> <TR> <TD WIDTH="200" ALIGN=LEFT VALIGN=top> <FONT FACE="verdana, tahoma, Courier New" SIZE="3" COLOR="FF0000"> <BR> <BR> <BR> <BR> <P> <P> <P> <P><B> 2000 22 august</FONT><BR> </P><B> <FONT FACE="Verdana, Tahoma, Courier New" SIZE="1" COLOR=FF0000"> <BR> <BR> <P> <br> <P><A HREF="http://avantgo.com/mydevice/channel_properties.html?cha_id=11648460"> <IMG SRC="http://www.lionessden.com/graphics/ag.jpg" BORDER=0> Click here</A> to get lionessden.com delivered to your Palm or other handheld device. It's swell!</P> <BR> <P> the previous <I><A HREF="http://www.lionessden.com/archives/lifenstuff/82100.html"> life and stuff</A></I> </P> <BR> <P> <A HREF="http://www.lionessden.com/lid/index.html"> <IMG SRC="http://www.lionessden.com/graphics/lidlogo.JPG" border=0></A><BR> the litmag at lionessden.com</TD> <TD ALIGN=LEFT VALIGN=TOP> <FONT FACE="Verdana, Tahoma, arial, helvetica"> <TD ALIGN=LEFT VALIGN=TOP> <FONT FACE="Verdana, Tahoma, arial, helvetica"> <P> <I><B>Hi, Everybody</B></I>: I'm a bit under the weather, and just returned from the emergency room this evening. No worries; I should be fine. Today, I've posted something called <I>Letters from Iceland</I>, which I sent to my friend Jason this past May. I hope you enjoy it, and I'll be back on my feet in no time. Toodles.</P> <P><I><B>Letter One</B></I></P><P>"Why can't you take your vacation to a nice beach like other people? You know I hate it when you go to these terrible places where I have to dial forty-three digits to reach you. Be careful, dear, and wash your hands. Those people might not be very clean." </P> <P>I called my mom last week to tell her I'm going to Iceland for a few days. She seems happy enough that I'm taking a little vacation, but is continually puzzled over my destinations and the chilly seasons in which I travel. Last year it was Northern Scotland, then Denmark, and neither in the summertime. Going overseas in summer is a great way to run into lots of Americans stomping around the world, bitching that no one speaks English and how much the food sucks. Most traveling Americans are easy to spot. They're the loud schleps in bright new white sneakers and a t-shirt that either tells you where they're from, or where they were yesterday. Really clever shirts, like the one with ROME across the chest, and a big pasta stain airbrushed over it.</P> <P>God bless America</P> <P>I'm hoping to avoid the usual tourist riff-raff this week in Iceland. So far, the signs look good. In describing the flavor of grilled puffin, my travel book describes it as tasting "a bit like calf liver." I can't resist a place where the local cuisine doesn't "taste like chicken." Booze flows freely each weekend in Reykjavik, so even under the drunkest of circumstances, conversation can't be all bad. Icelanders enjoy an adult literacy rate of 100%. And for my single male friends, Icelandic women also win a lot of those Miss World pageants. I'll leave their phone numbers in all the local bookstores. </P> Regardless, I've sworn not to buy a "Vikings Do it in Sweaters" t-shirt. It promises to be windy (no trees on the island), rainy, and sleep-deprived (the midnight sun will be out.) Much to my mother's dismay, I will once again return from holiday without a tan, pretty shells for her bathroom, or a Don Ho CD. But I will wash my hands, if only to get rid of that grilled puffin smell. </P> <P><B><I>Letter Two</I></B></P> <P> Turns out there's two places for Internet access in Reykjavik--the bus station, and the Top Shop Cafe. It is much too trendy and hair-gelled in here so I hope to type fast and move along to the M&M bookstore for some coffee-slurping with the grubby bunch.</P> <P> I guess I could tell you about my all-day excursion to the uninhabited (and uninhabitable) region of Iceland, but you can pick up any good guide book for that stuff. Everyday life around here is much more interesting. Like America, they've got bums (I've seen the same two guys about four times. They seem okay.) They've also got really obnoxious morning djs. I don't understand a word of what they're saying, but it sounds pretty stupid, even in Icelandic. Otherwise, life here seems pretty good. </P> <P> Take swimming, for example. Swimming is a national pasttime, institution, and requirement for graduation from secondary school. There are public pools in nearly every neighborhood, and I ain't talking about some raggedy-ass YMCA setup. Geothermally-heated water is in abundance here--it's how they generate all of their electricity. (Fossil fuels are only used to run vehicles.) Icelanders are way into their water, and after one of the most relaxing evenings of my life, I am too.</P> <P> The ritual at these places is probably harrowing to most of our puritanical anti-naked attitudes. At the door, you remove your shoes and place them in a plastic bag. Go to the locker room, where you get naked and then carry your towel and swimsuit to the shower. The attendant makes sure that you've got soap and shampoo, and that you use it. For the complete dirtwad moron, you will find a large diagram of the human body with the head, armpits, privates, and feet highlighted in red. You are requested to pay special attention to these parts in Icelandic, English, and German.</P> <P> I guess they assume these areas get extra-cruddy across all cultures. </P> <P>Rinse, repeat, suit up, and you're ready to hit the water--and what divine water it is. Once I jumped into this pool, I gave up all hope of getting a good workout. It's like a bathtub, but clean without that godawful chlorine smell. Volcanically-heated water is kind of beyond description. It just feels nice. You feel clean. It doesn't burn your eyes. I swam around like a kid for an hour. </P> <P> There's more, though. After the "workout", I then headed outside for a soak in the hot pots (hot tubs to you and me). 105 degrees of bubbling, whirling jet-powered relief. Considering that the air temperature is about 50 degrees, it's perfect. If others are in there, they generally leave you alone, or read their books. Men don't hit on women. Women don't flip their hair around or check their nails. They soak. That's it. Aah. </P> <P>And with that lovely thought, I'm off to bed. 'Night</P> <br> <br> <P>Kim Holzer Leeds</P> </TD> </TR> </TABLE> <HR> <TABLE> <TR> <TD ALIGN=LEFT><FONT FACE="Verdana, Tahoma Arial, Helvetica" SIZE="-1"> <P> This site has been tested ad nauseum, so if you have technical problems, <A HREF="mailto:nerd@lionessden.com"> tell it to my nerdy alter ego</A>. She'll get right on it. </P> <P> All other questions or comments? <A HREF="mailto:info@lionessden.com"> Type yourself silly.</A> </P> <P> You wanna read previous <I>life and stuff</I> columns, eh? <A HREF="http://www.lionessden.com/archives.html"> I guess there's no accounting for good taste</A>. </P> <FONT SIZE="-2"><B>unless otherwise stated, all material appearing within this site is a registered copyright of Kim Holzer Leeds, 2000</FONT></B></P> <P> </TD> </TR> </TABLE> <BR> <BR> </BODY> </HTML>