6 Tourist Scams in Reykjavik

You land at Keflavik exhausted after a long flight and head straight for the taxi rank outside arrivals. A driver approaches and quotes you what sounds like a reasonable rate, but once you arrive in Reykjavik the fare is four times what it should be — you're charged 9,000 ISK just as a starting fare. Iceland has no Uber and recent deregulation allowed more questionable operators to enter the market, so unlicensed or unethical cabs prey on tired arrivals who don't know the going rates.

You step off the plane and see a currency exchange booth right in the arrivals hall — convenient! You swap $200 for Icelandic kronas and only realize later that the rate was terrible and there was a high commission fee buried in the small print. Iceland is almost entirely cashless, so you spent money on currency you'll barely use, at a rate that cost you significantly.

You pick up your rental car in Reykjavik and the agent walks you through an endless list of insurance add-ons — gravel protection, sand storm protection, ash protection, tire protection. You decline most of them to save money. When you return the car, they find a tiny scratch or chip that was there when you picked it up and charge you hundreds of euros because you declined full coverage.

You fall in love with the classic Icelandic woolly sweaters (Lopapeysa) displayed in a charming Reykjavik shop, and the label says 'Made in Iceland.' You pay $200 feeling great about your authentic souvenir. Back home, you notice it feels cheap and a friend who knows textiles tells you it was machine-made in China using a generic Nordic pattern — not Icelandic wool at all.

You check into your Reykjavik hotel and the front desk mentions that the tap water 'might not be suitable for drinking' and offers to put a case of mineral water in your room for a fee. You accept, not wanting to risk getting sick. In reality, Reykjavik's tap water is glacial spring water — consistently ranked among the purest in the world. One hotel owner was actually caught doing this as a deliberate money-making scheme.

You book an expensive Northern Lights tour weeks in advance, excited for the experience of a lifetime. Your tour night arrives and clouds completely obscure the sky — no auroras are visible at all. You expect a refund or rebook, but the tour operator's fine print says they only guarantee the attempt, not a sighting, and offers only a partial credit toward another tour you may not have time for.