The Blue Lagoon

The Blue Lagoon is located on Reykjanes Peninsula and is actually en route to Reykjavik from Keflavik airport; the Airbus can take you straight there after landing. It is surrounded by stretches of sleek lava fields that make up most of the peninsula. Lonely Planet describes this area as possibly looking like the "flattest, bleakest, most disheartening place on earth." My experience of it was similar to that of traveling through the interior--craters, miles filled with black and grey, rust-colored and faded yellow-green patches of withered plant life. 

Amidst the muteness, the Blue Lagoon  sneaks up on you. After about 30 minutes on the bus from Reykjavik, lost in storm cloud and lava formations, I noticed a pool of light blue water, especially emphasized by the grey-black rocks enclosing it, and we were suddenly turning into the spa. I was shortly thereafter running into the ladies locker room trying to decipher the odd electronic locks, and dodging various breasts in a crowded room of naked women. All of Iceland's pools require that you shower in the buff before entering; they are pretty strict and explicit about this as well, providing signs of the exact "problem" areas they would like you to cleanse. For a more detailed explanation of this, and an actual diagram (in case you were unsure as to what constitutes a problem area), feel free to read Reykjavik Swimming Pools: The Naked Truth, from the Iceland Express Weblog, How Do You Like Iceland?

On the outskirts of the Lagoon. 

A shot from inside the atrium, looking out on the lagoon. 

I couldn't have dreamt up a more perfect setting for myself than the Blue Lagoon. It was a place of warmth and possessed all elements of intrigue--heated, powder blue pools of water possessing so many minerals that you can float on the surface without much effort. Actually, it makes walking kind of difficult, as though you're having that annoying dream of being chased but not being able to run fast enough and instead float upwards with each step. Although there was nothing exactly nightmarish about the lagoon, once submerged in the water and the mist flies up off the surface, so much so that at times you cannot really see in front of you, it does invoke a sensation awe. Its design forces a surreal, ancient effect that is reminiscent of a Roman bath house-Dead Sea setting. As I have never actually experienced either of these things, what it may invoke the most is imagination. With the bleak sky and lava rocks strewn through throughout the lagoon it, for a fleeting moment, is a bit overwhelming to find yourself  alone in a more desolate area, surrounded by steam and unable to see the edges of the pool. (In such cases, you may also run into lovers cozying up to each other, as this is supposed to be one of the most romantic places in Europe.) But despite the border-line ominous effects, if none of this were manmade, it would be somewhat like heaven on earth, even for one who tinges on the agnostic-to-atheist side. 

Lost in the mist. 

Notice there is a windshield wiper on the "life-guard" booth. 

We didn't splurge on any spa treatments--there are numerous rooms for various therapies inside the building, and outside there are areas reserved for massages. Yes, you can be massaged right in the lagoon. But we didn't find it necessary (or fiscally responsible...). With general admission you have access to steam rooms and saunas; you can massage your back under a heated waterfall; you can saunter about, digging into buckets of silica placed in various wooden bins throughout the lagoon. You can imagine how bizarre it looks with everyone floating around, slow and zombie-like, smeared with silica. 

Ha. 

Not the most flattering of shots, but just to give you an idea of what everyone looked like...

While swimming in the lagoon, you also pass through various hot spots in the water--places where at certain rocks or generators the temperature gets even more toasty. At one point, we swam to the back of the lagoon which looked out over the lava fields of the penisula; it was one of the warmer areas, but not excrutiatingly hot. The water was shallow enough here that we could half sit down, half float. We stayed here for a while, with our heads partially dipped in the water, just letting ourselves be enveloped by the warmth.

Obviously, it was hard to take pictures here while actually swimming. The following pic from med-owl.com gives a better aerial-type view of at least the front of the lagoon (in somewhat better weather), and the actual building, where spa rooms along with a variety of relaxation areas and conference rooms, and a couple places to eat are located. 

I think the Icelanders got it right with their geothermal worlds--nothing feels better or healthier than floating around in heated, mineral rich water. While the Blue Lagoon is definitely the pinnacle of Iceland's geothermal lifestyle, it seems as though every town has a heated pool, usually indoor and out, with a variety of hot pots and steam rooms. These are the social hot spots; it's where people come after work to catch up with each other, where kids come after school, where families may gather on a weekend, and definitely the first places many tourists want to experience--the geothermal pools are enjoyed by all ages, most of them open until 9 or 10 in the evening.

Relaxing inside afterwards, not so happy to leave. 

So to sum up the Blue Lagoon--touristy? Yes. Did I care? No. While I believe the numerous, purely natural phenomena of Iceland will always be its main attraction, the Blue Lagoon was definitely a unique and beyond pleasurable experience; it's a place of healing for mind and body. The spa, especially the Blue Lagoon Clinic, is actually renowned for it's natural psoriasis treatment and a full line of natural products. To see more about the Blue Lagoon, as I know many people are interested in it, they have a pretty extensive Web site. But, despite the fact that I did not receive any formal, clinical treatments, I at least enjoyed a night of baby-soft skin and inner peace.