I figured that since I had a spare grand or so and a wee bit of free time, that the days before Christmas should be spent in an expensive foreign country rather than preparing anything for Christmas day. I chose Iceland.
There isn’t a time difference between the UK and Iceland and, luckily for me, it’s only a two hour flight. I don’t handle journeys very well so I probably didn’t appreciate the trip as much as I’d have liked. The anti-sickness tablets I took weren’t ideal since they made me so drowsy but I’d rather be tired than throwing up!
We stayed in Reykjavik in a surprisingly fancy hotel near the centre. The centre was excitingly Christmasy. The days didn’t start till 10am due to the dark mornings and, the first time we ventured out into the city, everything was coated in a light dusting of snow and small lights glimmered in every tree. It was a strangely magical place, with the pre-dawn silence, the snow and the yellowish Christmas lights.
We visited a historic church, saw their pony’s unique gaits, marvelled at the geysers and waterfall, and stared at the mountain ranges. There was too much snow to see the Northern Lights and the whales didn’t want to play but it was still one of the most amazing, breathtaking experiences of my life.