Good morning and welcome to the 21st century. You probably feel 1,000 years old today, even those of you who decided to stay in last night, watch the festivities on television and crack open one too many bottles of bubbly. The furthest thing from your mind is likely to be the party capital of northern Europe anyhow. But, rest assured, you'll soon get over any millennial hangover. And remember, the best thing about resolutions is breaking them.
Besides, it could be worse. A lot worse. You could have woken up to a credit-card receipt with as many zeroes on it as the year. Which would have been the case had you chosen to see in the new year in Reykjavik. So, console yourself with the fact that you've saved all that money and now you can afford to go out there and indulge yourself.
Everything you've read or heard about Reykjavik before is true - it's remote, it's cool, it's expensive and it's wild - only more so.
How remote? It's the world's northernmost capital and one of the smallest, with a population a third the size of Bristol's (170,000) stuck out on an island that's almost as big as England, but which, with its volcanic lava fields, geysers and glaciers, is about as uninhabitable as the moon. Outside Reykjavik, it's home to only 107,000 or so more people.
How cool? Iceland may share its name with a frozen-food chain, but the climate's not that cold, and the attitude is a lot more upmarket. When Robbie Williams was here last year, he took a stroll down the main shopping street, Laugavegur, accompanied by four burly bodyguards. The locals simply laughed and pretended not to notice him. There's no room for an ego that outsized in a town this small.
Besides, most people under the age of 30 seem to play in a pop band and it's hard to be impressed by Robbie Williams when everyone around you looks as if they've just stepped out of the central school of casting for glacial chic. The term "model society" applies to features other than Iceland's health service, housing stock and low rate of unemployment.
How expensive? A beer will set you back £6 in a bar, a bottle of wine £30 in a restaurant and even the McDonald's takes credit cards.
How wild? To quote Blur's Damon Albarn, who owns a flat here, "They come out at midnight, drink all night, dance like bastards and then run through the streets shagging each other senseless. It's brilliant!"
Reykjavik's hedonistic reputation has preceded it for more than a decade now in articles and features headed "Diamond geysers", "Crazy Norses" and "Over the volcanoes". It's hard, then, not to be initially disappointed when you arrive in a town that, by day, looks distinctly grey, low-rise and deserted. You feel as though the captain must have mis-set the co-ordinates and landed you in Reykjavik, Manitoba, way up in the wastes of northern Canada. What a load of codswallop, you're tempted to think as you take in the fishing fleet on a dockside as grim as Grimsby and contemplate a Friday night dodging the fists of the tanked-up crews.
But the seductive charm of Reykjavik is that it reveals its qualities by degrees. Degrees of alcohol, largely, it's true, but still it's impossible not to warm to the place after even a short visit. Architecturally, it may not be the most pre possessing city in the world - an exception is the Pearl restaurant on the hill, its glass-domed dining room revolving on columns supported by silver water tanks. Then there's the modernist City Hall, which juts out into the lake. And all those old red, blue and green townhouses with tin roofs. Oh, and, over the bay, the low-lying, flat-topped Mount Esja.
But, generally, it's what's inside the buildings that counts, and you only get to see this when the locals are good and ready to put on a floor show. That usually means after 11pm on a Friday and Saturday night. There's no point starting the weekend any earlier, because the bars stay open till about 5am on these two days and, with alcohol so prohibitively expensive, most people are content to charge themselves up at each other's homes before going out on the " runtur ".
Sounds a bit like rutting, I know, but it's what Icelanders do on a big night out. And it is a bit more sophisticated than it sounds, especially since beer was legalised in 1989, and the locals no longer have to rely on industrial quantities of vodka and the native firewater Brennivin (black death) to act as social lubricants. Basically, the runtur means going from bar to bar and sampling from each until you can no longer be bothered to move on and queue outside another place that promises an even better mix of music and an even more beautiful set of people within. Simply put, it's a pub crawl; except for pubs, read designer bars; and don't expect anybody to crawl when they are wearing Prada, Armani, Diesel and Duffer.
The good thing is that most bars are concentrated in a few downtown streets, so you're never more than a stroll away from the next runturing post.
A typical Friday night, then, might kick off in the Kaffibarinn, a cosy, little drinking hole that Damon Albarn is reputed to have a stake in. Most locals claim he was given 1%, but that's enough to pack the place with black polo necks by 11.30pm and have you asking for a can-opener to extricate yourself by midnight.
Down the road, at the Rex, the tone is less Camden Britpop, more King's Road chrome. It was designed by Sir Terence Conran, after all, and is a minimalist setting fit for the Helmut Lang-labelled to mwah-mwah the Nicole Farhis, for gin and tonics to chink with cocktails called, um, orgasm (peppermint liqueur and Baileys), and for Björk to be seen wafting down the stairs to the members-only Mafia Room. Even its toilets figure in a best-of-Reykjavik feature in a local boutique's magazine.
One o'clock in the morning and all is well: still no sign of chundering Vikings causing carnage in the town. Next stop, Kaffi Thomsen, "a hip nightclub for the younger generation that boasts a café atmosphere upstairs [and] a dancefloor in a basement that's styled in a gothic mode", according to another magazine. In terms of interiors, it doesn't get more basic: wooden floors, window tables and cave-like drawings of horses on the walls. But the DJ by the door is Herb Legowitz of local band Gus Gus, and the music is house, drum'n'bass and a dash of classic disco. People are drinking all right, people are dancing like bastards even, but no one is running down the streets shagging or, indeed, beating each other senseless. Despite the binge-drinking, Iceland has one of the lowest crime rates in the world and vandalism, to people or property, appears minimal.
It feels a bit lightweight to be leaving at 4am, but there's another round to come on Saturday night. And besides, there's one more treat in store before the dawn. Down by the docks is a fastfood stand that has a queue of 30 or more people weaving and snaking its way up to the serving hatch.
The name picked out in neon is Baejarins Beztu Pylsur, which at this pickled hour could translate as ram's testicles in whey, for all I know and care. Except that a friendly type has already informed me it means City's Best Hotdogs. He also tells me that this particular outlet is so popular the owner can afford to live in Florida off the proceeds (£1 a dog, and people still insist on paying with credit cards). Icelanders love their hotdogs -the secret's in the sauce, apparently, a confection peculiar to the island, called Remoladi, which tops off the usual staples of fried onions, raw onions, steaming dog, ketchup and mustard. Too much information at 4am, but a simpler and cheaper pleasure could not be more appreciated after a night on the runtur .
You may find they lie a little heavy on the stomach when you emerge late morning for your next Reykjavik sortie, mind. But a dip in one of the seven naturally-heated outdoor pools within the city limits only goes to confirm why Icelanders look so good despite the ravages of the weekend runtur. That, and the fact that there's very little chlorine in the gene pool. A constitutional swim in warm geothermal spring waters and a relaxing soak in the hot pots is part of the daily routine here.
Okay, so tectonic activity coupled with glaciers can have its drawbacks - three years ago the Loki volcano erupted beneath Europe's largest glacier and threatened widespread flooding along the southern coast. But there's no getting away from the fact that, all in all, Icelanders lead pretty clean and healthy lifestyles: hot water pumped straight from the ground to heat their houses and their baths; natural spring water to drink from the taps; and hydroelectric power to keep the computers up to speed with their credit-card spending. All very green.
Then there's the diet: fish stocks precious enough to wage and win three cod wars with Britain and free-range lambs to make the Welsh turn green with envy. Apart from that, though, they don't mind what they eat: puffins, rotting shark and cod's chins (whoever knew they had chins?).
When it comes to food, Icelanders argue that you get more for your money in terms of quantity and quality in Reykjavik than you do in London. And it's hard to contradict them when you sit down to a meal of hot smoked breast of guillemot with beetroot, cheese and pears, followed by pan-fried plaice with banana and blue cheese sauce (it works, believe me) for £25 in a restaurant as cosy as the Vid Tjornina. Chuck in dessert, wine and coffee, however, and the plastic soon comes in for another pasting.
In between all the scoffing and quaffing, let's not forget that Reykjavik is one of the nine European cities of culture this year. Apparently, Iceland publishes more books per capita than any other country in the world and has the highest literacy rate. And they had a Nobel Laureate in novelist Halldór Laxness. You could do worse than take in some of the Icelandic sagas displayed on vellum at the Arni Magnusson Institute - more tales of runtur , revenge and rampage to tide you over till the next session.
Then there's the bleak but powerful landscapes of artists such as Finnur Jonsson in the National Gallery, which give a pretty good indication of how apocalyptic the landscape must be just beyond the city limits. And finally there's the pièce de resistance , quite literally, in the form of the Icelandic Institute of Phallology. That's right, a penis museum.
The director, Sigurdur Hjartarson, started out with a bull's penis that he used as a whip when he was a boy in the country. He has now expanded his collection to include 90 specimens. Since you ask, the smallest belonged to a field mouse and the largest to a blue whale. There's no human trophy on display as yet, though there is a written pledge on the wall beneath a picture of an 84-year-old farmer called Pall Arason.
Right. So. Anybody up for a stiff drink?
Reykjavik on the cheap
1 Follow the line of incoming locals after Customs and raid the booze shelves in Keflavik airport's duty-free shop. Will save you a small mortgage on the runtur .
2 Lunch lightly on lobster soup at Laekjarbrekka restaurant (Bankastraeti 2), which specialises in Icelandic cuisine. Built in 1834, this is one of the oldest houses in Reykjavik. Prices have gone up a bit since, though, and soup will set you back about £10.
3 Swim at one of the city's seven naturally-heated outdoor pools. At £1.70, they're a cheap hangover cure and a convenient alternative to the Blue Lagoon. Sundlaug vesturbaejar (Hofsvallagata) is the oldest and has the most local characters.
4 Hotdog supper. At a £1 a go, you can have several. Many outlets, but City's Best (Posthusstraeti) is the local favourite.
5 Get a Reykjavik tourist card for unlimited free bus travel and admission to public swimming pools and museums. Cards can be bought at the City Hall Information Centre, Bankastraeti 2, and from some hotels and guesthouses,£5 for one day, £7 for two.
City of culture highlights
Reykjavik is promoting itself under the theme of culture and nature, and events fall under the categories of water, air, fire and earth . . . to mirror the landscape.
Water
Futurice, August 11-13. Reykjavik makes it on to the international fashion map with a show to promote talent from Iceland, Helsinki and Bergen, with support from international designers such as Jeremy Scott.
Air
Voices of Europe: Björk sings with 10 choristers from each of the nine other cities of culture in Hallgrimskirkja Church, August 26 and 27.
Fire
Reykjavik culture night, August 19. Entering its fifth year, the festive night features outdoor concerts, performances, fireworks and fairs, late-night opening for restaurants, bars, galleries and shops. Until dawn.
Earth
International Festival of Literature, September 10-16. Seminars, talks and readings with prominent Icelandic and international writers (previous guests include Kurt Vonnegut, Seamus Heaney and Martin Amis).
Day trips
1 Blue Lagoon. Pool of mineral-rich, geothermally-heated seawater set amid a lunar landscape 35 minutes' drive from the city. Facilities recently refurbished to the tune of $7m, but only £7 to get in. A steal and a must.
2 Golden circle tour (8 hours, £42). Takes in some of the best-known natural features - the Gullfoss waterfall, Geysir geothermal field, where the hot spring Strokkur obligingly spouts every five minutes, and Thingvellir national park - where the world's oldest parliament was established (930AD) and where the continental plates of Europe and America are slowly pulling apart.
3 Icelandic pony trekking, Hafnarfjordur, 15 minutes from the city centre. Three-hour tours cost £26, including transfers, and trot out daily from 10am and 2pm.
Best bars and cafés
1 Solon Islandus (Bankastraeti 7). Entrance to the classical or jazz performances upstairs costs £10. Downstairs, it's a genteel setting for a bohemian crowd to sip coffee, wine or snack on puffin salad at £8-£9.
2 Vegamot (Vegamotastigur 4). Bistro and bar with mellow sounds and Thai chicken by day and evening, funk and salsa by night.
3 Prikid (Laugavegur) Recently refurbished but retains a traditional feel. Marvin Gaye soothes you into Saturday over a cafetiere (£3.50).
4 Kaffibarinn (Bergstadastraeti 1). Musician, writer and actor crowd (plus wannabes) form a tightly-packed clique in this clubby pub.
5 Radhuskaffi (City Hall, Tjarnargotu 11). Perfect place to contemplate the scenery and the state of your finances. Seated at water level, look out across the lake to the mountains.
The practicals
Icelandair (0171-874 1000, www.icelandair.co.uk) flies every day, 11 times a week from Heathrow and Glasgow. Two nights in the Leifur Eriksson hotel costs £267pp, including flights, transfers and breakfast, January- March. A two-night break staying at the art-deco Hotel Borg, including breakfast, costs £317pp.
