Category: Travels

Reports from outside of London.

  • Everything You Need To Know About Going To Sonar Festival In Reykjavik

    Everything You Need To Know About Going To Sonar Festival In Reykjavik

    In February, me and my housemate went to Iceland.

    It was the weekend after Valentine’s Day, so naturally our trip had all the hallmarks of your average romantic break: music so loud you can’t hear the other person speak, copious amounts of duty free rum, an inability to get out of bed before 1pm, and fancy dinners including a 3am trip to Subway and an incident we will only refer to as “milk pasta”, which involved an unsuccessful attempt at using mozzarella to make cheese sauce.

    Luckily we weren’t in Iceland for the food, we were there because at some point in December, Sonar Reykjavik drifted onto my radar in the midst of a coma brought on by Christmas excess and one too many episodes of Monkey Life on freeview.

    It’s in these vulnerable, sofa-bound moments when the urge to travel usually gets me, and this time was no exception. I’ve wanted to go to Sonar for years – the Barcelona version has a reputation as being one of the world’s best festivals for music, technology and creativity – and Iceland is one of the best countries ever, so pairing the two could only ever go to go one way.

    Four days of roadtrips and raving? Off. We. Go.

    If, like me this is pretty much your ideal holiday, let’s be friends. And here’s some stuff you might want to know before you get there.

    1. As far as music festivals go, this one is tiny

    You’ll be one of 3,500 people, most of whom are Icelandic, very excited, and have the sort of exquisite Nordic cheekbones you only find on people who survive without daylight for half of the year.

    2. It all happens in one big venue by Reykjavik harbour

    Everything goes down across four stages in the Harpa Concert Hall, which they helpfully cover with flashing lights so even if you’re drunk you know where to go.

    Harpa at night.

    3. Keflavik airport is the best place to stock up on booze

    Iceland has a pretty weird history with alcohol. Beer was actually banned until 1989 – and even though these days Reykjavik goes pretty hard on the partying front (the bars will deffo still be going well after the festival closes at 3am) you can’t buy booze in supermarkets. Vínbúðin (literally “wine shop”) is the only place you can buy booze in Reykjavik, but you won’t find any special offers and the opening hours are limited. So do your booze shop at the airport – it’s cheaper, and easier than trying to get some when you’ve just arrived and want to get the pre-game started.

    4. No, there isn’t any camping involved – it’s February are you mad

    Accommodation will probably be your biggest expense – but the good news is that Reykjavik’s a pretty small city, which means it’s hard not to be within stumbling distance of Harpa wherever you end up. We found an Airbnb about 10 minutes away (around £78 per night – one of the cheapest I found) and it was the cosiest, loveliest, warmest little back-garden out-house ever. This also means you don’t have to eat out every night, which saves £ and means you can schedule regular disco naps between meals.

    The crash pad.

    5. You won’t have to spend ages trekking between stages

    Because the whole festival is spread across four different rooms in Harpa, you won’t spend an hour schlepping between stages only to find that you’ve missed half the set because you got stuck in a crowd, lost your mate, had to dig your welly out of the mud and then couldn’t get anywhere near the stage because it was full. There’s even escalators between floors if you’re struggling with the concept of stairs, which, by the third night, you probably will be.

    6. …but there’ll still be a bit of this

    Even in a relatively small festival venue like Harpa, you’ll still find yourself writing surprisingly detailed text messages trying to explain exactly where you’re standing within a featureless, loud room which is packed full of constantly moving people. It’s just the inevitable festival way.

     

    7. You won’t have to queue for the bar

    Even compared to London, alcohol is expensive in Iceland – and by that I mean you’ll be paying around £7-8 for a can of beer and more for a glass of wine in Harpa. On the flip side, not many people really seemed to be going hard on the booze front, so at least you won’t have to queue to get it. From the second night onward we took advantage of the non-existent bag searches and brought in our own sneaky supplies of rum. No one seemed to mind. We saved money. Job done.

    8. There’s not a port-a-loo in sight

    Just in case you were wondering. Which you definitely were.

    Up the front for De La Soul

    9. You’ll find yourself going batshit to music you’ve never heard before

    Iceland’s music scene is banging anyway, and the headliners were all bonafide pros (De La Soul, Moderat, Fat Boy Slim in 2017), but probably the nicest surprise was finding myself going nuts to acts I’d never even heard of before Sonar. In fact, I would now absolutely make a beeline for any of the following if I saw them on a line-up: Sleigh Bells, Gus Gus, FM Belfast, Kerr Wilson, Dillalude, and a woman whose name I can’t pronounce but will always remember for her sparkly mermaid dress.

    10. If you manage to get out of bed, you can spend the day doing roadtrips

    The festival doesn’t kick off until about 9pm each night, which means theoretically you’ve got the day time to actually go and see more of this ridiculously good looking country. I say theoretically, because there’s no way in hell we were getting out of bed for a 8am tour bus and neither will you. So instead we rented a car (Sonar festival ticket holders get a discount) and took ourselves out to thermal spas and the black sand beaches of Vik on the south coast at our own pace. Warning: if you’re feeling fragile, an encounter with an Icelandic horse might legitimately send you over the edge.

    Me harassing one of Iceland’s very therapeutic horses

    11. And if you can’t be bothered to move, Reykjavik has excellent cafes

    Between the hot dogs and soup served in bread, Reykjavik pretty much has your morning-after-the-night-before munch covered. Special mention to our mid-afternoon chill spot of choice, Sandholt Bakery: to me, you are perfect.

    12. But PSA: thermal spas are A+ at curing hangovers

    Most people are all over the Blue Lagoon, which is a very nice place to spend a few hours on your way to or from the airport if it’s not fully booked. But if planning ahead isn’t your strong point then don’t worry, it’s ok, because if there’s one thing Iceland goes completely mental for, it’s swimming pools. So instead we went off to the Secret Lagoon, which isn’t that secret but was a very nice, chilled, slightly quieter (definitely cheaper) alternative. And after a night of jumping about to techno in an underground car park, a steaming hot, open air bath is exactly what you need.

    13. You’ve got a good chance of seeing the Northern Lights

    Yeah, the big one: February is peak Aurora Borealis time in Iceland. You’ll be at the festival Thursday, Friday and Saturday night, so the best idea is to stay until Monday, then that leaves Sunday night to cross your fingers for good weather and a clear sky. The trick is not to book your tour until you get there, or you could end up paying to see nish all. If all else fails and you happen to be there when it’s cloudy and rainy all week like us, you can make do with staring in wonder at the other pretty lights: of which – I can assure you – there will be plenty.

    And if that doesn’t convince you: seriously. Look at this place. Look. At. It.

    Þingvellir National Park

    Iceland, I’ll be back. You’re ridiculous.

  • 10 Ways I’m Definitely Not Comparing London to Japan, Absolutely Not*

    10 Ways I’m Definitely Not Comparing London to Japan, Absolutely Not*

    Have you been to Japan?

    You can usually tell if someone’s been to Japan because they’ll tell you about how good it is without you even having to ask.

    Even if the conversation is about something entirely un-Japan related, even if you’re talking about painting your house or how much you like rabbits they’ll pipe in with something about Japanese houses being wooden and Japanese rabbit cafes being the next big thing.

    There’s even a Wikipedia entry for people who get a bit obsessed with the place. And much like other things that don’t make sense at first – dachshunds, short hair, spending £750+ p/m on rent, that bit at the end of yoga where you lie on the mat breathing – you’ll only really understand once you’ve been there yourself and seen the light.

    For me, that light shone down within five minutes of my arrival at Tokyo Haneda International airport, which is also the time it took for me to find and use a toilet. Because Japanese toilets aren’t just toilets – as you’ll gather from the amount of times they come up in this blog post – they’re machines; machines that understand and cater to your innermost wants and needs.

    Over the 11 days I was in Japan, I realised that toilets are just one of the things that Tokyo does very well.

    In fact most Japanese cities I went to had their shit together – no pun intended – in a way that London categorically does not.

    So here are the ways in which London could, quite frankly, try a lot harder.

    on-time-queues

    1. Tube platforms could let you know where the doors will open 

    I know we’re all quite proud of knowing exactly where to stand in order to be first on the tube, and I realise that if this came into effect, us Londoners would have to find some other way to prove our superiority over tourists and other people who haven’t lived here long enough to know this important, life affirming stuff.

    But wouldn’t it be better if there were, you know… just… markings on the floor letting you know where the doors will open and where to stand if there’s more than one of you waiting?

    I know, it’s a crazy idea. But on the other hand… it just…sort of… works.

    2. We could have loads more public toilets

    Fact of life: you can never find a toilet in London.

    Japan, on the other hand, understands that if a city has several million people wandering around it, then at some point those several million people will need the toilet.

    And perhaps they won’t be near a McDonalds, or have 30p handy in exact change, or want to risk angering the owner of a Soho pub by nipping in without buying a pint, or want to beg the bloke in Costa for the key to their one, solitary loo.

    So imagine a world where toilets are everywhere. A few in each big train station. One in every convenience store. Several dotted all around the park. A couple in every tube station.

    What would my day be like? you’re no doubt wondering.

    I’ll tell you. Your day would be much better, and it would also take a long time to get anywhere because you’d end up drinking so much water – because you can – that you’d feel compelled to stop at each one you passed primarily because you need the loo but also for the novelty alone, because you can.

    3. Annnnnd perhaps those new toilets could have heated seats

    optionsDo I really have to explain this one? I don’t think I have to explain this one.

    Basically buttons. We need more buttons. 

    4. We could have designated smoking areas on the street 

    Disclaimer: I don’t smoke.

    Fact: Walking down the street trying to dodge the smoke being exhaled from the mouth of the person walking in front of me

    + having pavements that aren’t littered with dropped cigarette butts

    = 10/10 something I would write policies on if I was mayor.

    4. Oyster cards could also work in vending machines AND shops AND in other cities

    I know we’ve got Oyster cards, and we’ve also got contactless, which, while we’re on the subject, don’t you think it’s weird that we’ve gone from having to verify everything with signatures, to typing in a secure PIN code, to suddenly actually you know what sod all that, who cares, just tap the card on the machine and there’s your drinks?

    Anyway! How about a combination of the two, where we have smart cards that you top up and allow you to pay for stuff at shops, tube stations, vending machines, buses, lockers, loads of stuff, and let you also do that stuff in, say, Manchester and Brighton as well?

    vending-machines
    Vending machines everywhere. Deer optional.

    5. Oh and more vending machines 

    And when I say “more”, I mean every few steps I would like there to be a vending machine selling water and ice cream and umbrellas and beer and green tea and everything else you might need in your bag for the day ahead, but neglected to pack when you left the house that morning because you still haven’t mastered getting stuff ready the night before even though you’re 31 and probably should be more organised by now

    tickets-outside
    A very non-faffy restaurant, note machine on left for ordering outside

    6. Our restaurants could be a lot less “faffy”

    In London, “grabbing something quick for dinner” still means going through the formalities: waiting to be seated, getting the menu, then you’re left with the menu, then you order drinks…

    …then the waiter goes away again, and then you order food. Then the food arrives and you eat it, you spend 5 minutes trying to get some ketchup for your chips, then there’s a gap where they clear away the plates, then you’re offered dessert, then you wait to flag them down or do The Eyes or the Finger on Palm Wiggle, you wait for the bill, you pay, you panic about whether to leave a tip or not, you leave, and you panic because that took ages and now you’re late for the theatre.

    In Tokyo, most of the time it goes like this:

    Find place you want to eat. Approach machine outside. Select the ramen you want. Add extra egg because it’s the best bit. Pay. Get ticket. Sit down. Hand ticket to chef. Pour glass of ice tea or water, which, miraculously is already on the table. Food comes. Eat. And now, ladies and gentlemen, up you get. On with your day. We are done. On you go.

    Alternatively, all hail getting up when you’re finished and paying at the desk by the door. Can we do more of this, please? It’s quicker and I’m hungry. Thanks.

    women-only

    7. We could maybe try having some women only train carriages just to see how it goes

    No it doesn’t address The Root Of The Problem and lol sure #notallmen.

    And absolutely yes, let’s address the bigger question of why a city transport system might need carriages specifically to make women feel comfortable and safe in the first place, let’s address all that, please.

    And in the meantime, I’ll put forward that travelling around in a carriage surrounded only by women and girls was just a very nice, relaxing, comforting way to go about my day, and leave it at that.

    8. More lockers? 

    Put aside the security risk.

    Also put aside the occasions in Tokyo where there were so many lockers that we had to ask for directions to find our lockers.

    And that one time there were so many lockers that I took a photo of mine, wrote down a description of where it was in the station, and dropped a pin into a Whatsapp group so I could find it later.

    Maybe we don’t need to go Full Tokyo on this one, but yeah, a few here and there would be good.

    9. Umbrella cover dispensers for shops umbrella dispenser

    This, my friends, is an umbrella dispenser. It puts a cover on your umbrella when you walk into a shop to stop water dripping everywhere, and it’s a very good idea that could possibly make you want to go into shops just to use one for novelty value alone, but that is entirely unconfirmed.

    10. Can we have cartoon characters on our roadwork barriers

    There’s literally no practical reason we should do this in London. But I saw these in Osaka and I just think making our city look more like a LEGO playset would be a good use of taxpayers’ money.

    helly-kitty-barriers

    I’m also aware that after about 4 months of not writing anything on this blog about how much I love London, I’ve now returned with a blog post which is basically about how much Tokyo is smashing it in comparison.

    I know how it looks.

    And London, I’m sorry.

    But on the plus side, I’m back. Stop complaining.

    And did I mention Japan’s really good?

  • You Can’t Really Compare Iceland to London, But I’m Going to Do It Anyway.

    In October I went to Reykjavik.

    It wasn’t meant to happen.

    I was travelling on my own, and planned to go straight to see my mate in Boston, then over to New York. But then I found out I could get a free stopover if I went via Iceland on the way, so I thought, why not?

    Then I didn’t give it much more thought until the flight, where the general theme seemed to be don’t you dare turn up in our country without knowing some basic phrases.

    iceland air seats

    I’m not big on reading about places before I get there.

    This is mostly because I’m lazy, but also because I enjoy the element of surprise when you turn up and don’t know where your hotel is. Or in the case of Iceland, where anything is.

    Anything at all.

    Seriously, Iceland.

    Where is everything?

    nothing down there
    Iceland: big in the lava game

    As such, I didn’t really know what to expect.

    But I had a sneaking suspicion my trip might involve three things:

    1) slipping on ice because I failed to bring shoes with any grip

    2) volcano-related travel disruption

    3) sustained periods of hunger, because sitting in a hotel room rationing out mini bar peanuts would arguably be less of an ordeal than walking into a restaurant and mustering the words “table for one”.

    iceland geysir

    Happily, none of these things happened.

    Instead, I found myself in a country with 80,000 horses, 328,000 people, a lot less ice than the name would suggest, hot water coming straight out of the ground – literally, see above – and an anti-incest app so locals can check if the person they’re flirting with is actually their sister.

    Oh, and I also found  “meat soup” on the menu, which, despite its ambiguous name, is deliciously comforting when eaten in any situation, but particularly when hungry, tired and on your own.

    Basically, Iceland was brilliant.

    In some ways, it was even better than London. And this is why.

    meat soup for one
    Meat soup for one, bitches

    The locals are unfathomably friendly.

    The more I travel, the more I realise that the best way to spot Londoners abroad is to look for the people walking round slack jawed and wide eyed with amazement, frantically mouthing “but everyone here is just so nice!” to each other.  

    You never hear tourists saying that in London, which has led me to conclude that Londoners are probably friendly to other Londoners, and the rest, well… they all sort of just walk too slowly and get in the way.

    In Iceland, no one’s annoyed at you when you get in the way. They are polite. And welcoming. And patient.

    For example, not one person pushed this man into a puddle for using his iPad as a camera. Not one.

    ipad in iceland

    Even lost property is carefully looked after.

    In London, lost gloves get kicked about, shoved on a wall and then eaten by a team of fiercely howling pit bulls in Dagenham.

    In Reykjavik, lost gloves get collected together, put next to the other lost gloves and signed up for a speed dating initiative.

    It’s beautiful.

    In Iceland, (g)love never dies.

    single gloves speed dating

    Then there are all the horses.

    Oh, the horses.

    Like I said, there are 80,000 of the little scamps milling about the place, and all of them seem extraordinarily happy with their lot.

    Icelandic horses don’t muck about; there’s none of this plodding, lazy, oh-do-we-have-to mentality you get in the riding schools at home. If anything, this lot are massive overachievers.

    Not content with walk, trot, canter and gallop, Icelandic horses came up with a couple more gaits to keep themselves occupied, like “tölt” and “pace”. This makes them the most comfortable things to sit on this side of IKEA.

    And in Iceland, you guessed it, the horses just want to share a bit of love, too.

    friendly horses

    If you’re not into horses, there’s always the swimming pools.

    With all the hot water steaming about underground, Iceland’s pretty big on outdoor swimming.

    From what I gathered it’s less about actual swimming and more lying around in hot water having a chat, which pretty much sounds like something my dad – who also enjoys “swimming”, where “swimming” means “doing laps of the jacuzzi.” – could probably get on board with.

    Anyway, one of Iceland’s most celebrated geothermal pools is the Blue Lagoon, which has a constant temperature of around 37-39 degrees all year round.

    It’s also full of minerals which you can slather on your face and wallow about in for hours while the sky goes “watch me now!” and does nice colours.

    blue-lagoon-iceland

    Of course, we’ve got outdoor pools in London too.

    Except here we call them “lidos” or “ponds”, and generally, they come with medical warnings against disease and hypothermia.

    Observe the public health warning helpful information on the website of London’s most celebrated pools ponds, Hampstead Heath.

    hampstead-heath-pond-via-fl

    Finally, I think you can tell a lot about a country from the signs in its airport.

    For example, Sydney Airport is covered in signs reminding people not to crack hilarious jokes about the bombs they don’t have in their luggage.

    Boston Airport – and in fact any airport in America – has signs warning you not to do anything except look like a white, Caucasian male in possession of a US passport, and in London most of the signs just tell you where you can and can’t queue.

    Over in Keflavík, Iceland’s International Airport, their main concern is that people just won’t want to go home.

    no-camping

    And after two days in this excellent country, I don’t entirely blame them.

    Sorry, London. I’m home now. I’ll blog about you next time.