6:30 pm

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According to various friends and food blogs, an unmissable Reykjavik speciality is its ice-cream, which the locals enjoy come rain or shine. Our hostel sits a convenient couple of blocks away from a new addition to the booming Reykjavik ice-cream scene: Parlour Paradis, run by a typically blonde and beautiful woman who apparently "mastered the art of ice cream-making at the Gelato University in Bologna, Italy". It serves enormous triple scoops for the eye-poppingly meagre some of 370 krona (less than £2!), and is staffed by a selection of typically blonde and beautiful women. Perhaps they all mastered the art of ice-cream making at the Gelato University in Bologna, Italy. I tried both the kiwi and bubblegum flavours which really were delighfully gelatoey, and Sarah had a neon pink milkshake. We wended our way home just as the sky began to cloud over, and encountered some more window dressings of delights such as rowdy dogs, piles of books, and an enormous silver trophy. Probably for being a member of the most delightful country in Europe.

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