Way too early in the year when we didn’t realize the entire country would be closed for business, we booked some cheap ass tickets to Iceland. The plan was to land, get our rental camper and travel the ring for seven days freezing our asses off, taking a million pictures, tons of hiking, climbing, and scrambling around on the glaciers. Then we would come back to Reykjavik for tons of pampering and spa days and cuddle sex under fur blankets. It was a flawless plan.
We landed in early March, and literally like ten businesses were open and it was goddamn freezing. Which, I’d left it to my husband to do all the research, so nothing really got done. Luckily the amazing hotel we stayed at was open, but pretty damn empty. Hence the insanely cheap rates. We picked up our camper at the airport which was so, so small compared to LAX and took off. It was a few hours of driving through what looked like an apocalyptic landscape with no one else on the road before we hit the first sign of life, a small village called Hveragerði. We stumbled around in the frozen ground looking at half frozen streams and locals stuffed into parkas and we started to really worry about the trip.