BROOKE SHIELDS LIVES!


Hollywood is everywhere!

The very first thing we did was to stop at the Blue Lagoon. Yes, that’s right—Iceland’s tribute to possibly the worst movie of the 1980s, body doubles for naked scenes and hair glued to Shield’s bared breasts aside.

This is a total tourist attraction. A plant adjacent to the site extracts geothermal power from water that is then pumped into a man-made lagoon. Icelanders are so practical. Despite the spectacular volcanic backdrop, the lagoon is pretty cheesy. 

A monster rises from the depths.
But when you are as jet-lagged as we were, a leisurely rest in a sulfurous pool is just what the doctor ordered, in spite of the sixty degree weather. I rubbed my face with a mud bath, reclined in the water, and listened to the people around me speaking French, German, Spanish, Italian, Russian, and some other Scandinavian and Eastern European languages I couldn’t quite decipher.

The quite lovely center of town.
Afterwards, we made our way to Reykjavik, a lovely town of 150,000 people, where the cars stop for pedestrians and road rage seems nonexistent.

A typical downtown street.
Plus they take VISA everywhere you go, and they all speak English. Every American's dream! We ate fresh fish at a wonderful Icelandic restaurant—nary a sheep’s head in sight. Stomachs full, we took a taxi to our hotel, fell into bed, and slept the sleep of the dead.




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