The Blue Lagoon and My Glasses
Iceland’s Blue Lagoon and My Glasses
I visited Iceland in October. It was extraordinary. One of the unique features to experience is the geothermal pools, which are found in several places across the island. Naturally, these become tourist attractions, and the most famous is Blue Lagoon, and I spent several hours there.
The facility had refined their spa treatment procedures into a fine science: registration for all the amenities at a higher price than if booked online elsewhere, an electronic bracelet that locked and opened your locker, a person handling out a folded white terry robe too small to belt, an open changing station with one bench that’s shared with six other women, and shower stalls that don’t lock- why would they? Scandinavian and European countries don’t mind seeing naked bodies of all shapes. Sadly, I avoid looking at my body at all costs. And I hate to think that someone would be subjected to see it. Trust me, I look better in the dark.
Imagining that I was alone in the dressing room, I got through the “naked” thing and dressed in swimming shorts, a top, and a rash guard long-sleeve shirt appropriate for beach and boat wear for North Carolina. It was probably equivalent to the bathing costumes of the 1920s.
Everyone had to shower, wash their hair, and use a conditioner before entering the water. I also left my cane attached to my Nike water shoes and robe at the entrance, then met my son, Will, to enter down a ramp into the water. The air was frigid, and the wind picked up. I ducked under quickly and was rewarded with very warm water.
Geothermal water filled the lagoon’s basin, creating the strangest water I’ve ever been in; it was a cloudy light blue. Moving from place to place within the pool, the temperature changed dramatically from bathtub warm to almost a steaming hot tub. It was heavenly. Since my son and his friend ditched me, after receiving a complimentary glass of sparkling cider. I was alone to wander among the smooching couples and familial groups until I found the elixir of the lagoon- the mask area. In a kiosk overhanging the water was a technician spooning out facial mask products. She saw my bracelet and gave me a spoonful of black goo.
“This is a lava mask. It will exfoliate your skin. Spread it over your face and wait two minutes before washing it off.”
Hmmm. I placed my glass of cider on the ledge, took my glasses off and laid them to the side before doing as she had instructed. So did the others around me. I should have felt funny, but we all had black goo on our faces. I waited and followed the others by rinsing my face in the water and putting my glasses on.
The lagoon water tasted salty, and it burned the eyes. Unlike the salt water from the Atlantic Ocean, there were other salts mixed in that made it gross- perhaps these salts were used for mummification somewhere. Thankfully, I hadn’t shaved my legs.
The next mask was white- a silica paste for hydrating the skin and needed to remain for twenty minutes. My glass of cider and my eyeglasses were again placed on the ledge before I applied the mask. The wind picked up and it blew my glasses off the ledge into the water.
I panicked. “My glasses!”
Several women and a man tried to feel for the glasses on the bottom of the lagoon. One man risked life his life to use his hands to feel for them. “Oh my God. Those glasses aren’t just sunglasses, they’re my prescription glasses and I can’t see without them.”
The search went on for at least ten minutes and more people joined in. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t believe this had happened. How would I make it though the rest of the tour? Would I even get to see the Northern Lights?
The lagoon water was so cloudy it was impossible to see your hand just below the surface. I contemplated asking for goggles but knew that was a stupid idea. I’m sure the other people around felt the panic that I was emanating, and more people joined in to look.
Without warning, a peaceful calm came over me.
Moments later, the man jumped up from the water holding my glasses. The current had carried them at least fifteen feet from where they had fallen and I’m positive that in ten more minutes I would never have seen them again.
I could have kissed the man’s face even though I was covered in white mud and his girlfriend was hanging all over him giving him kisses as a reward. Instead, I thanked him profusely as the other people around us clapped.
Since it was time to wash off the mask, I had the same dilemma- what to do with my glasses. Then I asked myself, “What would Dolly Parton do in this situation?” I looked down at my rash shirt, pulled it open and wedged the glasses inside the bra of my swim top. Now, they were secure.
Two women in a family from Denver, Colorado started laughing. “That’s like putting them in Fort Knox.”
I agreed wholeheartedly. And we chatted the time away until receiving the last mask, green algae, which was a restorative mask that purported to be antiaging, and reduced wrinkles. It was a shame my whole body had been left out. So, my glasses went into the safe and we all resembled the Hulk. After a few minutes, the only way to get wash it off was by fresh water that poured into the pool from a pipe at least thirty feet away. It felt like glacier water. My pores closed so tightly my face shrunk up. Blue Lagoon had done wonders.
In hindsight, the masks were excellent marketing ploys. Like other passengers going through the airport duty-free shops, I bought two boxes of masks and eye creams to remember being pampered at the Blue Lagoon, for the inexpensive rate of two hundred dollars. It was a bargain for luxury without jetlag or a new pair of glasses.