In addition to better deals and a larger selection than competitor 10-11 (spoken “tíu ellefu”) shoppers at Iceland’s Bónus supermarket chain have the opportunity to walk away with a bag featuring its adorable logo, a piggy bank with a seemingly bloodshot eye (or maybe it’s just a birthmark?).
Even with its apparent eye problems, the pig is pretty adorable.
The drive from Cape Cod to New York City—much of which passes through the stale landscape that is Connecticut—is far from riveting. But as opposed to many dull highway routes in the United States, the Interstate 95 portion of the trip features the occasional roadside gem. The standout and absolute must-see is Providence, Rhode Island icon Nibbles D. Woodaway. Nibbles, the giant (and anatomically correct) termite mascot of extermination company Big Blue Bug Solutions, is 58 feet long and weighs in at a whopping two tons. Usually referred to by locals as “The Big Blue Bug,” Mr. Woodaway acquired his current moniker, the winning entry of a radio contest, in 1990. Nibbles didn’t disappoint, and was well worth striking Orange, Connecticut’s Pez Museum from our itinerary.
After my flight’s 6:00 a.m. arrival at Keflavik International Airport, I made a stop to get coffee, dehydrating myself further than had already been accomplished by the five-hour flight. The brew, dispensed from a machine reminiscent of those found in the office kitchen of a large corporation, was lackluster, but caffeinated enough to jar me back to semi-consciousness. Aware of the fact that I would probably be too sleep-deprived (and lazy) to cook by the time I’d arrive at the hostel, I also bought a sandwich to eat later in the day. It was prepackaged, the type that’s commonplace at every restaurant and café in most major airports, the kind that’s usually more disappointing than a Starbucks sandwich, but less likely to induce illness than cafeteria pizza. And so I had low expectations, the only one being that I wouldn’t be maddeningly hungry by the evening. After eating it for lunch at the hostel, however, I came to the delusional conclusion that the sandwich–labeled as egg, lettuce, and tomato–consisting of (and I hope your deductive reasoning skills were strong enough to come to this conclusion) egg, lettuce and tomato, and a mayonnaise-based sauce, was composed of a genius combination of ingredients—and though this wasn’t the case, it was pretty good…for airport food.
Before leaving for Iceland, I called Icelandair to order a “special” (i.e., vegetarian) meal for my flight. I can only assume that when airlines use the word special to describe their food, it’s in attempt to convince gullible passengers that their onboard dining experience will far exceed that of the stale pre-flight panini consumed at the airport Starbucks. Aware of this possible trickery, I kept my expectations low, although I did expect at least the cursory roll with butter. But peeling back the foil on the container (which, in size, was even rivaled by Healthy Choice TV dinners), I discovered a small serving of vegetables, whose appearance might have insulted even frequent customers of the Old Country Buffet.
stowaway bear 