"Do you know what would be so gangsta'?!"

I took a sip of my cappuccino, surveyed the bustling antique market and waited to hear.

"A girl's trip to ICELAND!" my friend Jamie finished with a challenge in her voice.

She had me at "gangsta'."

Because we are nothing if not.

With our Kate Spade totes and our T-Swift jams in our SUVs. 100% Gangsta'.

And the tickets were booked. Just. Like. That.

What was truly sweet was my kid's preemptive prayers:

"Please Lord, don't let Mommy die in Iceland."

See, I knew they liked me.

Somewhere beneath the bickering and withering glares and dinner rejections.

I should really go to away more often. Really.

Now to Iceland:

The bait and switch of exploration.

The island of fire and ice.

It was other worldly. Truly.

And yes, yes, while I may have used that descriptor (rightfully) at times for donuts, this volcanic viking outpost defies imagination.

Until you see it.

And then it still mystifies.

The majestic snow-capped mountain vistas are staggering. While the verdant valleys stretch languidly at their feet.

A land of contrasts. Thermal-warmed lagoons pool in dormant volcanoes. Mossy fields reclaim lava long-cooled. Blue glacier beach shelters cerulean shades of icy sea.

And all of creation testifies to their Creator.

What does not is most everything man-made.

That's just ugly.

Take Reykjavik, their capital.

( Which took me several Google audio tutorials to learn the proper pronunciation.)

I was like Eliza Doolittle. With my bloody Cockney accent.

Rake-Jah-Vick

Anyhow, Reykjavik and the surrounding suburbs basically look like sprawling barracks and industrial parks. With a few historic exceptions.

Like this cute little house.

or this charming harbor

But, basically, it's no Charleston, SC.

Our Airbnb apartment was also no exception.

It was a like a crime scene from "Silence of the Lambs."

Jamie whispered, "Hello Clarice" just once and we checked into a hotel with security the next day.

We're not that "gangsta'."

Accommodations aside: Iceland was INSANE.

Our first day, we drove to Pingveiller National Park where the oldest existing parliament in the world met as early as 930 A.D.

Also there, a canyon has been formed by two Teutonic plates. If you have been dying to see a continental drift, that's the place to go.

I didn't even know I had been.

But it was breathtaking.

Pingveiller National Park #nofilter

Shifting Teutonic plates

That view though

Continuing along the Golden Circle drive, we drove to Gulfoss Waterfall, where the Hvita River appears to create a rushing staircase.

Similarly, we rushed to take photos there. And performed a variety of theatrics. Which left no doubt we were (1)American (2) gangsta'

Gulfoss Waterfall

This gangsta' move gets trickier every year

so difficult to tell we were Americans

Horses. They are like Walmarts in the South. Or chickens in Mexico. Everywhere.

Naturally, we took a million photos of them and with them.

As though we were horse whisperers. Or jockeys.

By the end of the trip, I felt like one. #NationalVelvet

I am not even crazy about horses, but this made for such a great photo. #truth

They are like Mr. Ed. So friendly. And tame. Like puppies. But, horses. In Iceland.

I never touch horses. This is shocking.

In between our hours of driving on gorgeous open roads, we stopped to forage for food at suspicious gas stations. Foolish, I know.

Finding nothing but fish soup or frozen whale steaks, we pretty much subsisted on peanut butter crackers and Reese's Peanut Butter cups.

Because protein is important.

Our final stop along the Golden Circle was the infamous Strokkur Geysir which erupts with *some* predictability. But not enough that I didn't scream like an 8th grade girl and nearly drop my iPhone every time it did.

So ashamed.

To the middle of the island we ventured on our second day, climbing mountains amid a snowstorm to reach the awesome and renown, Seljalandsfoss and Skogafoss Waterfalls.

Jamie will back me up: We nearly died driving in our little Hyundai along those icy, serpentine cliffs.

Fortunately, we are both expert stick-shift drivers and expert Christians.

So, Jesus took the wheel. And we lived to yell at love our kids another day!

When we arrived at the majestic Sljalandsfoss falls, we discovered it was still raining. But, despite even the occasional hail and our running mascara, we got our darn photos.

It was not easy. But, that's where the Reese's cups offer support.

After the falls, we journeyed to the Jokulsarion Lake which flows into the sea at Diamond Beach. Here cobalt and cerulean and turquoise blue glaciers preside imperially on a crystalline lake and on jet black volcanic sand.

Magical.

Our final adventure took us to the exotic thermal pools of the much-celebrated Blue Lagoon nestled in latent volcanic rock. There, we luxuriated beneath 98 degree-turquoise waters as snow fell gently.

All very cinematic.

Until it began to hail.

And our mascara ran.

Then, it was just miserable.

Like a mysterious woman: Iceland is gorgeous and complex and capricious. You could spend your whole life exploring the island and only hope to know her depth.

But never quite.

Copenhagen- our final destination and layover allowed us to shed our North Face gear and dine on something not peanut butter crackers.

Plus Copenhagen is *THE* cutest little Danish coastal city.

Most charming is the much photographed, colorful Nyhavn waterfront canal. However, this obvious jewel only hints at the swirling cobble stoned-streets teeming with boutiques and cafes hidden behind tourist allures.

Two days. Two days was all it took. And we fell in love.

Denmark is a delight.

Oh and we took a vote. It was unanimous.

Danish men are *THE* best looking in Europe.

Hands down.

Sorry everyone else.