We left before dawn (aka a little after 9am) on a two-day adventure tour to the southern coast of Iceland. In no time at all we were traversing frozen lava fields and climbing our way over the Blue Mountains.

About an hour outside of Reykjavík, just as we were passing through a town named after seals, and which produces yogurt but not much else (our driver’s advice: “when you move back to Iceland and become an Icelandic citizen, this is probably not where you want to live”), our van broke down. We waited for a few minutes to confirm that it was truly dead and that a rescue van had been dispatched, and then someone remembered seeing a bakery a little ways back up the road. Hope sprang eternal and Amy and I led the way…

And now we wait. Stranded in a hostile arctic landscape with nothing but fresh-baked cinnamon buns and hot beverages to keep us from the abyss.