What do you think when I say “Iceland”? Let me guess. First thing that comes to your mind is the volcano that erupted a few years ago and no one can pronounce it (Eyjafjallajökull, anyone?), second is a Blue Lagoon full of Asian tourists soaking in its milky-blue, silica-rich thermal waters, and third, Game of Thrones filming locations that turned stark landscapes into Westeros. But Iceland is so much more than viral eruptions or crowded spas. Its thermal waters are a geothermal wonder, powered by the island’s position on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, where hot springs bubble up from volcanic depths, creating natural pools like the Secret Lagoon or the steamy rivers of Reykjadalur. These aren’t just baths; they’re a direct tap into Earth’s fiery core, with mineral-laden vapors rising like ancient spirits, offering a soothing contrast to the island’s raw, wind-whipped wilderness.

Iceland came to my mind during planning a North Atlantic holiday. It was a part of “island-hopping” kind of holidays, bouncing between rugged outposts like the Faroes and Greenland. After reading many reviews about how to experience the island in a short period of time, we had decided to rent a car, a sturdy 4×4 essential for the unpaved Ring Road, and drive around this beautiful island, chasing the midnight sun or northern lights depending on the season. The views were breathtaking: vast lava fields stretching to jagged basalt columns, glaciers calving into fjords under dramatic skies that shift from sunny to stormy in minutes. We would stop at viewpoints overlooking the Golden Circle, where the tectonic plates of North America and Eurasia pull apart, revealing fissures steaming with sulfurous heat. And then there were the Icelandic horses. Sturdy, five-gaited wonders with flowing manes, descendants of Viking imports. We encountered herds grazing on mossy hills, their sure-footed trots perfect for crossing volcanic terrain; one misty morning, we even joined a short ride near Hella, feeling the tolt gait’s hypnotic rhythm as the horses navigated streams fed by nearby hot springs.

During a mere 8 days, one feels like traveling through time, several Hollywood movies, and several countries. The island offers an incredible number of sights that will blow one’s mind; from the vibrant capital Reykjavik with its colorful tin-roofed houses and harbor views, through lush green fields dotted with elf-inspired rock formations, and amazing waterfalls on every corner like the thunderous Gullfoss plunging into a canyon or the ethereal Seljalandsfoss you can walk behind, to places looking like Mordor from “Lord of the Rings” with vulcanic formations and sulphur-smelling locations around geothermal areas like Namafjall, where boiling mud pots hiss and bubble. Panoramic views from Snæfellsnes Peninsula evoked moonscapes, with snow-capped peaks reflecting in turquoise crater lakes, while the thermal waters added a layer of surreal beauty. One may think to dip into the naturally heated Blue Lagoon at dawn, surrounded by lava fields, or the wilder, less-touristy hot pots hidden in the highlands.

Of course, one of the important parts of that trip was to have as many North Atlantic fish as possible. As every dining review stated that Iceland is the place to have this red creature—wait, perhaps I meant the succulent langoustine or Arctic char, but lobster fever gripped me. I made a note for myself: have a lobster in Iceland, and what came to my mind was Lobster Hut. I had chosen the location for my splurge already before the trip. But finding it was a bit of a challenge. Google Maps did not cooperate on finding the address, and on the rainy day we ended up on the other side of the city, instead of sitting on a bench and sinking my teeth into a sub, with the North Atlantic waves crashing nearby.

Next day in the centre of the city, 4 hours before saying “goodbye” to the island, Lobster Hut appeared in my life. And the experience it was! It is a food trailer, run by a mother and a son, who prepare and cook the food by themselves in a cozy setup overlooking the harbor. Food is served in lunch and afternoon hours only. The menu is not an excessive one. It simply offers lobster soup, lobster salad and lobster sub in two sizes. As doctor ordered, I had a soup and sub filled with nice and juicy lobster, fresh from icy waters, eaten in the car, messing my dashboard with buttery bliss while watching gulls wheel against the moody sky.

Not to mention that next to Lobster Hut, Donut Hut parked the same time. I did not dare to walk there. After the lobster indulgence, even the siren call of fresh Icelandic donuts dusted with sugar could not tempt me amid the drizzle. But hey, next trip, maybe I’ll pair it with a geothermal soak and a horse ride for the full Viking feast.