Keflavik is a familiar name to Jen & I. There was an Air Force base here and this was a possibility when we were active duty. That base has since closed, but its structures are still in use. Pulling up to our hotel, everything looked oh so familiar. This was an Air Force building for sure. We were told that back in the day this building served as billeting, which is where incoming and outgoing military members stayed until they found new quarters. The Icelanders have even kept the standard colors. Faded tan and brown. Sweet. The interior was better than I'd ever seen in my Air Force days, but there were some chairs and couches in the common areas that I know I sat in back in Germany. Holy Flashback.
Our flight left New York at 8pm, so we arrived in Iceland at 6:30am. We pulled up to our hotel too early to check in, so we set out to find breakfast. This is not a largely populated island and Keflavik is not a big town. The search for food at this time of day had the same feel as a small town Sunday morning...in the '70s. There wasn't nobody nowhere. The GPS led us to three places. Two wouldn't open for another couple hours and the third hadn't been open in a couple years. Finally, we spotted a place with a tour bus out front and a crowd of Asian tourists milling about taking pictures. Walking in we were told that they were only open for the tour bus, but they'd put some food out for us.
Cafe Duus was a nice looking place. We were seated at a large round table near windows that gave us a full unobstructed view of a small marina. A waist high stone wall lined the marina and blended into the jetty that held back what was currently a calm Atlantic Ocean. On the other side was a large hill with an odd outcrop on the end. Breakfast was standard European fare. Meats, cheeses, fruit, and rolls. We were charmed by the friendly owner, the view, and the 10,000 year old walrus tusks mounted on the wall. So, we decided to return for dinner.
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| View across the marina from Cafe Duus. |
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| On the way to the lair of the Giantess. |
Following breakfast we went for a walk and took some pictures when my eyes were drawn to an odd looking structure across the marina. It looked like a house built into a cave. Time to explore! It was 48 degrees, which is about as good as it gets on a July morning in Iceland. So, dressed in shorts but snuggled in our fleeces, we set out on our first adventure. Our little family of five followed the sidewalk to the other side of the marina until we came to a sign over the path where in a runic script was written, "SKESSUHELLIR" and large footprints were painted on the sidewalk. Curious, we moved forward, but among the kids, apprehension was setting in.
The path curved slightly and as we moved nearer there was a nervous excitement. Getting close we could see the opening to the cave with a crude shack like widow and door built into it. There was growling. This is where the kids stood back and let dad go alone. I thought that maybe they believed that I was the strong, clever protector and could slay or defeat whatever beast lie in wait. Or I was the most expendable. Either way, I was going in.
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| She's watching... |
So, what was it? After returning home I found a web site that said this is a friendly giantess who lived in the cave. But in Keflavik, we asked around. The locals had a completely different take on this troll. An old man at the tourist bureau gave us his version. This giant troll, Gryla, looks for naughty children. She can only come out after dark. So, at bed time is when children cry, ask to stay up to watch tv, refuse to go to sleep, and argue about brushing their teeth. Gryla goes out and collects the bad children and takes them back to her cave. The man told us that she would keep them in the cave for a few days, until they were naughty no more, then return them home.
Elisabet, who worked the front desk at our hotel had a slightly different take. She agreed with the old man's version, but in her home, and many others, Gryla was used to make children behave. Especially around Christmas. Elisabet was told that Gryla would seek out naughty children alright. But it was because she was hungry. Elisabet's parents would tell her that if she wasn't good, Gryla would steal her and eat her for dinner and leave her jammies and toys hanging on the tree. Sometimes they'd tell their daughter that Gryla would boil children in a pot so they were cooked just right. That girl was scared to death. Not exactly Dr. Spock, but Elisabet seems to have survived.
We would return to Cafe Duus that evening and were seated at the exact same round table near the windows. Unlike the morning, the restaurant was teeming with customers and waitresses were scurrying from table to table. After a few minutes, we had ours. We just began to order our appetizers when we heard screams and gasps and everyone was looking our way. I turned as I heard the crash and saw a blue car, airborne, over that stone wall, and heading for the water.
It had raced through the parking lot and slammed on the breaks leaving skid marks for some 30 feet before smashing into the stone wall and being catapulted up and over, nose first into the marina. There were people outside trying to help while everyone in the restaurant was standing up against the windows.
The car was going down and we could see the air blowing and bubbling out from underneath and out of the car windows. A young man crawled out the passenger window, but as the car sunk beneath the water, the driver was still inside. Not until it was completely submerged, did a teenage boy swim to the surface from the driver's side, pushing his wet curly blonde hair back from his face. In minutes the parking lot had an ambulance, several police cars, and swarms of people.
And to our surprise, by the time we finished dinner, they were gone. The lot was empty as if nothing had happened. We wandered out for a look at the scene and that is when the teenagers started congregating. Kids on foot and on bikes. One in particular, we recognized. Blonde hair still damp, it was the driver. We didn't speak his language, but we could tell what he was saying. Recounting the adventure to his friends, he pointed at the water, complete with gestures, sound effects, and waving his keys about, he spoke of his experience with gusto. We couldn't help but wonder, why was he there? Where were his parents? Did they even know? Wasn't he in trouble? I guessed not.
But I'll bet I know who noticed. Right across the marina, in the cave, watching it all, was Gryla. This was a naughty boy. And I wondered if some morning we might go to that cave and find those car keys hanging off that little tree and see that giantess picking some blonde hair out of her teeth.
They don't all survive.
