Did you know that traveling can be expensive? Well, it is.
There are hundreds of thousands of guidebooks, newspaper columns, podcasts, etc
dedicated to cheap(er) travel tips. Ultimately, there’s no way around it: as a
(former?) student, it will make you poor(er). Here are three things I recently
did to cut costs:
1. Hitchhiking
2. Renting a car (instead of paying for a guided excursion)
3. Couchsurfing
Hitchhiking seems to have lost it’s romantic charm in America, and is mostly regarded as an act of insanity (or a death wish). Cohabitating with young volunteers (read: cheap ass hippies) for a couple of weeks made me reconsider this notion. I mean, hasn’t everyone been curious about what might happen if they stand on the side of the highway and point their thumb toward the heavens?
Well, according to the people I was living with at the hostel/workcamp (read: shitty excuse for shelter) hitchhiking in Iceland is like the easiest, safest thing in the world. Dope! With a destination in mind, the famed Blue Lagoon where the only attraction is—you guessed it—the color of the water, two other volunteers in my workcamp and I hit the streets one rainy, miserable Monday afternoon in Iceland.
Now, from the details I divulged in that last sentence, any person with some semblance of common sense would note that a day as such is probably the most retarded set of circumstances to attempt to catch a free ride. To start off with, Icelanders are notoriously creeped out by the prospect of sharing their personal space with other people, let alone sharing the confines of their tiny Euro cars with crazy looking girls who haven’t had a proper shower in a couple of days. Secondly, it was a Monday afternoon. I guess even people in Iceland have things to do or work to take care of during the week. Finally, it was raining, and that just sucked.
In any case, we planted ourselves near the exit ramp for a gas station off a busy road leading to the highway—an ideal location, we thought. After about five to ten minutes of getting confused and downright disgusted stares, we decided to go up to the gas station to ask for some help. A man driving a van suggested we make a sign, so people would know just what the hell we wanted from them. So we entered the small store to ask for a pen and paper. Just as I had finished a magnificent B-L-U-E in black marker, the guys behind the counter told us we should write our destination in Icelandic: Blaá Loniđ.
After numerous uncomfortable and incredulous stares from everyone in the store, we headed back to our post. Within minutes I noted a black Audi making a U-turn down the hill and head in our direction.
Ok. I never thought I would ever, ever in my life make the acquaintance of a depressed Muslim professional handball player from Kosovo. Mainly because I never thought handball was a real sport. But that day, well, I did. He seemed like a nice enough guy, just a little lonely because he didn’t really like Iceland or drinking (the only thing to do in Iceland) and he offered us a ride twenty minutes from the lagoon. But my very inquisitive young German friend sat next to him and he started rattling off about the inferior status of women and something about stealing and killing. I started looking for lava crags to dodge behind when he pulled over and took out his gun/knife/chainsaw. But the ride got longer and longer, the landscape more and more desolate, and finally we pulled off the highway. My leg muscles tensed and I clutched the door handle, mentally practicing the long, quick strides I was about to have to take.
But then, something strange appeared in the distance: a modern, fancy looking building and a parking lot. He dropped us off in front of the Blue Lagoon spa entrance and pulled away as if he’d just completed a routine task of little consequence. We stood there dumbfounded for a minute, pondered one of life’s greatest questions (what the fu…?), shook our heads, smiled, and headed inside.
SUCCESS!
1. Hitchhiking
2. Renting a car (instead of paying for a guided excursion)
3. Couchsurfing
Hitchhiking seems to have lost it’s romantic charm in America, and is mostly regarded as an act of insanity (or a death wish). Cohabitating with young volunteers (read: cheap ass hippies) for a couple of weeks made me reconsider this notion. I mean, hasn’t everyone been curious about what might happen if they stand on the side of the highway and point their thumb toward the heavens?
Well, according to the people I was living with at the hostel/workcamp (read: shitty excuse for shelter) hitchhiking in Iceland is like the easiest, safest thing in the world. Dope! With a destination in mind, the famed Blue Lagoon where the only attraction is—you guessed it—the color of the water, two other volunteers in my workcamp and I hit the streets one rainy, miserable Monday afternoon in Iceland.
Now, from the details I divulged in that last sentence, any person with some semblance of common sense would note that a day as such is probably the most retarded set of circumstances to attempt to catch a free ride. To start off with, Icelanders are notoriously creeped out by the prospect of sharing their personal space with other people, let alone sharing the confines of their tiny Euro cars with crazy looking girls who haven’t had a proper shower in a couple of days. Secondly, it was a Monday afternoon. I guess even people in Iceland have things to do or work to take care of during the week. Finally, it was raining, and that just sucked.
In any case, we planted ourselves near the exit ramp for a gas station off a busy road leading to the highway—an ideal location, we thought. After about five to ten minutes of getting confused and downright disgusted stares, we decided to go up to the gas station to ask for some help. A man driving a van suggested we make a sign, so people would know just what the hell we wanted from them. So we entered the small store to ask for a pen and paper. Just as I had finished a magnificent B-L-U-E in black marker, the guys behind the counter told us we should write our destination in Icelandic: Blaá Loniđ.
After numerous uncomfortable and incredulous stares from everyone in the store, we headed back to our post. Within minutes I noted a black Audi making a U-turn down the hill and head in our direction.
Ok. I never thought I would ever, ever in my life make the acquaintance of a depressed Muslim professional handball player from Kosovo. Mainly because I never thought handball was a real sport. But that day, well, I did. He seemed like a nice enough guy, just a little lonely because he didn’t really like Iceland or drinking (the only thing to do in Iceland) and he offered us a ride twenty minutes from the lagoon. But my very inquisitive young German friend sat next to him and he started rattling off about the inferior status of women and something about stealing and killing. I started looking for lava crags to dodge behind when he pulled over and took out his gun/knife/chainsaw. But the ride got longer and longer, the landscape more and more desolate, and finally we pulled off the highway. My leg muscles tensed and I clutched the door handle, mentally practicing the long, quick strides I was about to have to take.
But then, something strange appeared in the distance: a modern, fancy looking building and a parking lot. He dropped us off in front of the Blue Lagoon spa entrance and pulled away as if he’d just completed a routine task of little consequence. We stood there dumbfounded for a minute, pondered one of life’s greatest questions (what the fu…?), shook our heads, smiled, and headed inside.
SUCCESS!
wow. well, how was the spa? just google imaged it. don't devalue the place, it looks pretty sweet.
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