That morning I awoke somewhat less than eager; the knowledge that I was leaving that day was weighing heavily upon my mind. Nevertheless, my plane left that afternoon and I couldn’t afford to miss my flight. So, I pulled up my big girl panties, went to enjoy one last Icelandic breakfast, and then drove off into downtown Reykjavik to check out the Handknitting Association of Iceland’s shop in hopes of finding something to take home. The drive into the city during rush hour was actually very fun and empowering. Especially since I had truly learned how to drive a manual in the past weeks and traffic was no longer an issue. Finding a parking spot wasn’t so easy and once I found one I ended up breaking the law because I had foolishly packed all my Icelandic cash. American credit cards don’t have PINs so I was unable to use my card in the available meters. After deciding to risk it I booked it to the store for some shopping. The shop was really cool, if I were someone who had interest in creating objects and clothing out of wool I probably would’ve been in heaven. As it was, in my typical fashion I was unable to find anything that suited my fancy and so I left empty handed.