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About Mosfellsbaer

Aight, so I’m cruisin, right? City’s buzzin, lights flashin, and I’m like, “Where she at tho?” Reminds me of Ida, searchin for truth, but I’m huntin somethin else, ya dig? I hit up this shady corner—heard whispers bout it. Fun fact: back in the day, cops used to call these spots “red light traps,” bustin fools left and right. Wild, right? History’s got jokes.

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Look around! There are no prostitutes anywhere. No ladies in the skimpy clothings going, 'Hey baby, you wanna ride?' We don't need prostitutes.

Next, I’m wandering around Tjörnin, the lake in the middle of the city. It’s so pretty, with ducks and swans just chillin’. I sit on a bench, and this old man starts feeding the birds. I’m thinking, “Man, I wanna be that chill when I’m old.” But then, the ducks start fighting over the bread. It’s like a scene from a nature documentary. I’m cracking up, and the old man gives me a look like I’m the crazy one.

A Guide To An Unforgettable Solo Female Trip To Reykjavik, Iceland