Sit back. Enjoy. At my expense.
As you will be hearing all about for the next week or so, we rented a car and drove all over Southern Iceland these past few days. On our first full day there, loaded up on coffee, we made the three hour drive to Sólheimajökull glacier for a glacier hike.
As my stomach started to feel bloated, I mentally tallied how much coffee and water I had drank in correlation to how many times I hadn't used the restroom, before mentioning to Daniel "uh, REALLY need to find a bathroom".
|Not a single place to stop in sight|
You can understand why I rejoiced when I saw a sign pointing to our destination, with an advertisement for a cafe next to it! With a real toilet! Oh happy day!
After driving on the unpaved, volcanic-rocked (I.e. Super bumpy. On my nearly overflowing bladder. Eek. ) road for about 10 minutes leading to the cafe, my heart started to drop as I saw the little building all boarded up. I still had hope, though. We quickly found our (very cute Icelandic) tour guides and before even introducing ourselves, I urgently asked where the toilets were, in which they replied that I would have to go behind the cafe. OUTSIDE IN THE OPEN, without a tree or large rock in site to hide behind even more, as the cafe is closed for the winter (side note: every small restaurant in Iceland is closed for winter. It happened to us 3 times during the trip. They all go to the Canary Islands for dec-February).
I told myself that I could wait. These strangers would all know what I was doing a mere 20 feet behind them, and I decided it would be easier to keep my big girl panties on and just deal with it. My plans changed when the tour guide instructed us to put a harness on, and just the thought of the tight strap around my waist nearly made my bladder explode. To the whole group's annoyance, I told them all to wait for 5 minutes while I took care of business, dragging Daniel along for support.
We get behind the cafe, and it becomes apparent that I am not a natural nature pee-er. Girls, you know where I am going with this. Namely, I didn't know how to pee without getting my clothes urine soaked. I began taking off my hiking boots, socks, shoes, and long jacket, before realizing it was too cold (and too much work!) too totally naked-fy myself waist down.
|Imagine something like this. But with no pants.|
FINALLY, after about 15 seconds of Daniel asking me if I am going to pee or not, a small trickle starts and I literally sign in relief.
I think this a good time to mention that the only form of privacy I could have, being behind the cafe, also meant that we were right next to a small road. A road that we hadn't seen a single car, nay bus, drive on for the past 30 or so minutes we had been there for.
So, about halfway through the whole experience, I hear Daniel grumble "OH, GOD!" as he is holding my hands. I thought maybe he was losing grip or about to let go of me or something, so I look up...
And see not a car. Not one bus. BUT TWO BUSES. Full of wide eyed tourists. And here I am, pants down to my ankles, showcasing all of my southern (in more than one way) goods to about half of the inhabitants of the whole, small country. I have LITERALLY had nightmares that end like this.
I scream "NO!!!" and try to turn myself, while peeing at the same time, so that Daniel's back is to them and they can't see me. You can imagine the mess that that created.
Daniel shouts "It's too late! It's too late, Christina!" Meaning, they've already had a nice lil look at my naked self. What's the point? Finish up the show.
All I can do it just continue on with my business, while halfway crying/ laughing frantically, as the gawking tourists, cameras in hand, drove about 100 feet past us to park for their glacier hike.
|You can see the gawking tourist's vans in the background.|
Thank God it wasn't our tour group. But every time we would pass them on the hike I would look down, trying not to make eye contact, praying they didn't notice who I was.
It didn't help that Daniel kept asking, under his breath, if they liked the show or not.