While in Reykjavik, we did our fair share of barhopping.
After all, due to the whole lack of daylight thing in the winter, the locals tend to party hard.
When he stayed in the hostel for the last two nights of our time there we were awakened at 3 am by a partying neighbor banging on our window asking if he can come in.
Thankfully, both of our Reykjavik hotels were in walking distance of many great restaurants, bars, and pubs.
Our hostel, Reykjavik Backpackers, had a pretty fun bar in it as well (with a nice little happy hour every day!)
Lookin a bit rough there, buddy.
Barleywine! My love!
Lebowski Bar was another favorite.
We were actually able to catch the Saints game at a random bar we passed on a walk home from dinner one night.
. . . and we met a guy who went to LSU and now lives in NYC.
Small, small, smallllll world!
The nightlife at Hotel Ranga was pretty hoppin.
If we were attempting to drink wine in the outdoor hot tub, then we were inside at their two for the price of one happy hour (thank goodness because that place was expennnnnsive)
Another Reykjavik favorite was Dillon.
It always seemed to be filled with loud, friendly locals.
VISA was the only English word on that receipt.
One night we happened upon this pub, Kaffibarrin, and heard live music coming from upstairs.
I immediately panicked thinking it was Sigur Ros doing a live acoustic show (one can dream) but unfortunately it turned out to be just some men's choir practicing.
The bar was great though.
. . . and this is where we fell in love with the Reyka vodka and tonic.
When googling Reykjavik nightlife, we kept coming across Cafe Rosenberg.
Well, the night we attempted to go, we were the only people in the bart.
This chalkboard was cute though.
Icelandic version of Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros? eh? eh?
Thank goodness the hot dog stand was open 24 hours!
Fun fact about Reykjavik (that we learned from our extensive barhopping)
It is considered rude to tip.
Josh was a bartender in college and I was a waitress, so we understand the importance of it (in America, at least) and it took a few days of trying and annoying people before we began to question if they even wanted a tip.
None of the debit card receipts had spaces for tips, and they definitely didn't want American cash.
So, when we returned home we were scratching Iceland off the scratch off world map on our wall and a little fun fact at the bottom of the map stated:
"In Iceland it is considered rude to tip"
Those darn rude Americans strike again.