Thunderbirds Are Go!

Iceland is an unstable place. It has volcanoes and earthquakes and big huge cracks running through the ground where the North American and European continental plates tear themselves asunder at a rate of 2cm a year. That sounds like quite a lot to me, considering we are talking the movement of whole continents. We are assured, however, that Iceland itself will not fall apart, as Mother Nature, like some dodgy property developer hiding evidence of a house's dubious foundations, is kindly excreting enough molten rock to fill up the cracks.

This, combined with the fact that urbanisation is a recent phenomenon in Iceland compared to other European cities, means that large tracts of the city are squat and square and sturdy, and made of concrete. And, it must be said, quite unprepossessing. Guaranteed to stay standing in an earthquake though.

Those buildings that do stand out, however, seem to almost exclusively inspired by the Thunderbirds, with perhaps a little James Bond circa early eighties thrown in. Almost every church and gallery I saw looked like it had just landed. I was also lucky enough to dine at The Pearl. This is situated in a large rotating glass dome, where I had the tenderest piece of lamb I have ever eaten, while Reykjavik circled below. Be foolish enough to leave your purse on the outer ledge of the table and it will take 2 hours to get back to you. This place had been built on a cluster of disused water towers, but had been converted into gallery spaces, and the rotating restaurant plonked on the top. You can see the light on the top shining down over the city as you eat your creme brulee. I kept an eye out for Blofeld and his fluffy white cat, but he was not to be found.