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Reykjavik: A Layover
Somewhere in the suburbs of Reykjavik, my bus stops, the doors open, and I’m hit with a blast of arctic air; it is cold, very cold. Stepping out into the frozen void, seemingly abandoned in …
Somewhere in the suburbs of Reykjavik, my bus stops, the doors open, and I’m hit with a blast of arctic air; it is cold, very cold. Stepping out into the frozen void, seemingly abandoned in …
It’s that time again when nationalistic fervor and kitsch uniforms are strangely appropriate, where a blond-haired and blue-eyed man holding a torch isn’t cause for alarm. Yes, it’s time for the Winter Olympics. And what …