I set out on a new route towards the buzzing old town, with the destination of the Reykjavik 871+-2 in my sights. It's a museum housing a journey through Reykjavik's early history, built around the excavated remains of a Viking longhouse, and so-named after the volcanic eruption in 871 from which most of Icelandic settlement is dated. I studied the Vikings last year and so spent quite possibly too long enthralled by the mixture of real-life archaeology on display and the space-age technological aids employed to EDUCATE YOU. Holograms and touch screens for days. I particularly enjoyed a cartoon representation of the Great Auk, hunted to extinction centuries ago which is a real shame as it resembled a flightless and overgrown budgie (and apparently sounded like a hippo).
During my wanderings into town I was also forced to purchase something to throw over my exclusively summer wardrobe for my enterprising trip into the Icelandic countryside tomorrow, and settled on a plaid garment from a vintage store. I was also confronted by the incongruous sights of three children petting a disgruntled pigeon, and a man wearing a T-shirt of a giant pug's face. I finally worked out the source of the preponderance of LGBT flags and stylish men - it's pride week. Nordic style.