After the pleasingly languid lagoon, I resisted the allurement of napping on the bus, even though the post-lagoon experience was conducive to torpor. I didn't trek to Iceland to nap on a mini-bus while splendid scenery rolled by. Next was lunch and a tour of Gullfoss waterfall. I obeyed Trond's suggestion and had the lamb soup, apparently a national favorite. Very tasty; reminded me of the beef-stock-soup-bone homemade "red soup" my mom often made for Saturday supper, with paprika to spice things up. In the dining area, which looked out onto a white expanse with the falls sending up spray, I sat next to a man and a woman from Ireland. Gordon was the name I caught for the gentleman. The three of us walked together for a while outside and they snapped a rare Iceland photo of me. For whatever reason, it was wicked cold here. It was later in the day, not especially windy, but cold. The sun was going down behind the waterfalls, completing the "picture" in "picturesque." Trond, who was now being extremely explicit and repetitious in his meet-up instructions, would wait for us down by the falls overlook, below a boardwalk that was slippery in spots. It was so cold, I decided to occupy some of the time until 4:30 by marching up to the gift shop just to be in a warm place, since the bus had yet to arrive. I milled around the gift shop and took a bathroom break for five or ten minutes, and then went down the wooden steps again to the bus, which was idling in an attempt to keep us warm. The waterfalls? Impressive, with the ice chunks and natural sculptures. Not unlike Niagara Falls in the winter, if it is sufficiently cold to create the ice tableau. The landscape context of white quasi-tundra added to the scenic quality. It was odd how this was the coldest spot all day, several tourists agreed.
Next was Geysir.