Midnight is Reykjavik's darkest hour - and this is about as dark as it gets. At around this time, platinum blonde girls in vinyl leggings and vertiginous heels strut their stuff down the main drag. The evening is just beginning, and will continue into four or five in the morning. Get ready for MJ until breakfast.
To prepare for a big night out, our hotel provided a handy phrasebook for mixing with the locals.
"I AM A VIKING!" it says.
"YOU ARE CUTE!"
"WHAT IS YOUR TELEPHONE NUMBER?"
Is that what that burly redheaded dude with the mace was saying to me as he dragged me by the hair?
