Iceland/Paris blogging: Part 1 -- Steam Heat

There's absolutely nothing like going for a swim in 40-something-degree, rainy weather.

Iceland is a pretty short jump from JFK -- not even a five-hour flight, in fact. The downside is that it gives you even less time to toss and turn on the plane before a 6:30 a.m. arrival. This was probably my least jet-lagged trip, however, because my flight was so empty that I was able to stretch across an entire row of seats to sleep. It was the first time I've ever slept for any period of a time on a plane.

The perfect trip for the arrival day, I was told, was the Blue Lagoon. It's a geothermal spa about 40 minutes outside of Reykjavik. The landscape around it is particularly striking, almost alien: volcanic rocks without a hint of grass but still green because of the moss covering the rocks.

After stripping down as far as you feel comfortable, you have to somehow make that run from the outside into the water. Walking half-naked when it's 48 degrees and raining is one thing; doing so after stepping out of a sauna is something else entirely. And lest you forget what the weather was like as you're bathing in the warm water, there are plenty of these guys who look like they're dressed up for a nuclear winter walking around to remind you.

I did miss one opportunity at the Blue Lagoon. I noticed the snack bar served a rather bizarrely topped hot dog, served with remoulade and fried onions, among other things. Having already seen enough KFCs and Dominos Pizza joints from the bus on the way there, I shrugged it off as another unfortunate American infusion. Little did I know that the local hot dogs, or pylsur, are actually one of the island's culinary highlights. Damn! I missed a legitimate excuse to cheat on my diet.

I didn't miss out, however, on the silica mud treatments, available via scoop at several troughs along the lagoon. I was able only to exfoliate my face, however. I couldn't keep any other body part out of the water long enough to keep the mud on there. The Blue Lagoon sells it's own line of cosmetic products, but as is the case with virtually everything in Iceland, they're ridiculously expensive. That's one of the drawbacks of living somewhere that requires almost everything to be imported.