I’ve been told by many that Iceland is a beautiful place.
I’m sure it is, if I could have seen any of it.
I found Iceland to be really really wet, cloudy and grey. At least when I was there. And every time the cruise crew have been there, as I was told.
I tried to tell Nicholas that, really, we were fine and we could just stay in the car. I could use my imagination and just look at the maps. I also tried to tell him it was really humiliating to be seen under a pink kitten umbrella.
But he still made us get out and go to even wetter places. And he tried to say things like it was no more humiliating than walking around carrying a bear. I’m not quite sure what he meant, but I gave him a smack for good measure.
Here we are dangerously close to the wet explosion of Geysir.
And then dangerously close to the cascading sheets of wetness at Gulfoss.
And then who knows where this is, given the visibility…. I just know it was also wet.
At least I got to meet another mascot. I’m still cuter.
I cheered up a little when we were finally got back, got dry, and I was able to play with my towel buddy pets, today was a turtle.
Today, we stopped in a small town on the Faroe Islands. Actually by Faroe Islands standards it’s a pretty big town, but given that I’m a worldly bear having been to many a town in the world, I felt entitled to conclude that Torshvan, pop. 20 000 = a rather itty bitty baby town.
This is the whole town. See, it really IS rather itty bitty.
I’d read in the guidebooks that the Faroe Islands have their own kind of sheep – the kind you get when sheep inbreed amongst themselves for thousands of years (or since the Vikings anyway) without new sheep stock to add diversity. So I wanted to see some sheep to see how weird they look.
These aren’t sheep. They’re shaggy cows!
And then the clouds came in. Okay I’ve seen enough sheep. And then it rained. And I got wet. And grumpy.
Nicholas tried to bribe me and cheer me up with a Jolly.
At which point I explained that calling a drink Jolly doesn’t a jolly bear make. Hot cocoa and a warm bed on a boat does.
I had never heard of the Blarney Castle or Blarney stone, but I guess Nicholas had a Blarney stone at his school so he wanted to see it. So we went.
And I kissed the stone. We got on a tour bus at Cobn (pronounced Cove) and then we pushed past tourists and ran towards the castle to beat the line. Apparently the usual lineup to kiss the stone was something ridiculous. Lucky for us we were among the first there so it wasn’t too bad. One by one we streamed single file up the castle tower.
Up we went towards the stone, which was situated on the outside of the castle meaning you had to lie down, bend over backwards to kiss some stone on the outside.
Then it was my turn. I was getting ready to scoot down as the fellow who helped the stone kissers said to Nicholas – “Would you like me to hold your Teddy?”
It took me a second to realize he was referring to me. I’m no Teddy, mister. But whatever, you can hold me so I can kiss the stone.
And then I kissed the stone. I felt the same afterwards.
Nick and Pokin also kissed the stone. They sound about the same afterwards.
So we were docked in Portland, UK today. We heard word that there was a castle to see in the vicinity so we got on a bus to go see it. I wanted ideas for my eventual castle.
This was their idea of a castle.
They wanted £5. We got back on the bus.
My bud wasn’t impressed. Neither was I. We’d seen better in France and in video games. So we took another bus to Weymouth instead.
Here we found a tea shop. And being the civilized bear that I am, I indulged in a pot of tea with some scones and clotted cream.
It was no hot cocoa, but it was still satisfactory.
I had to learn more about these guys. Apparently their dead animal hat is called a Bearskin. OMG! They are traditionally made with Canadian Black Bears! I’m going to faint!
I decided to stalk them. Problem was that most of them are behind gates and chain fences. Something about getting harassed too much by other tourists. Simple solution! Don’t walk around with a dead animal on your head! Let alone a BEARSKIN hat! Jerks!!!
Anyway I was walking down the street and I found some! A live one within touching distance!
It took all of the restraint I had not to reach over and stroke that guy’s poor dead bear with my paw. Nicholas said not to. he said I would be arrested and he said he wouldn’t bail me out. That wasn’t nice but I wasn’t going to take chances.
So I just stood in front of them to make them feel uncomfortable. So how does it feel to have a bear staring them and their bear hat down? That smile on my face? I’m trying to creep you out, you Canadian-slaughtered-bear-wearers. Poor bears. I think I need the comfort of a hot cocoa to calm me down stat.
This is it. Quintessential London. We found a telephone box and got inside. Didn’t change into superman though, I’m confident enough in my awesomeness not to need to put on any tight spandex. Nicholas however, decided to put on a nice outfit as he rather enjoyed the London business Yuppie scene and liked watching the hordes of people loitering around pubs sipping beer outdoors.
“I could live here,” he said.
“For how long till you miss Amazon Prime?” I countered.
“Ok I’m over it already”
Smart bud.
See some real sights, you say? I did tonnes of that too! I saw the Tower of London and the gazillion remembrance poppies.
And Tower Bridge
I even observed the the London Eye and all the sucker tourists who paid to go on that thing.
Did my obligatory pose in front of Big Ben
And even pawed out good money to go see the Buckingham Palace.
Which is where I saw the guards. The Queens Guards.
These guys are strutting around with dead animals on their heads. I’m intrigued. I must learn more.
