Reykjavik

After he and President Reagan failed to reach agreement at their summit, Soviet leader Mikhail S. Gorbachev told a news conference Sunday that the Soviet Union still can not afford to ignore the United States but must deal with it. "There was a character in a Russian novel who wanted to close down America," said Gorbachev, not naming the novel. "She couldn't do that. We can't do that." When word spread that the conference had failed, one Soviet aide asked another, "Who blinked?"

Before Reykjavik became cool and clubby, before there were Björk and Sigur Rós and the cozy mix of musical genres found on the Icelandic record label and composer collective Bedroom Community, the only internationally known (and barely) Icelandic composer was a craggy individualist, Jón Leifs. He represented the Nordic island as seeming so fascinatingly remote from Europe and America that it might almost be on another planet. But the Reykjavik revealed by the Los Angeles Philharmonic's Green Umbrella Concert on Tuesday night in Walt Disney Hall felt more like a bedroom community of L.A. and New York.

Got a hard-hitting investigative story but can't get it past government censors at home? Publish it in Iceland instead. What about a website featuring classified, inflammatory or potentially libelous material? Park it on an Internet server here, without fear of legal harassment or official pressure to reveal your sources. Lawmakers here have given the go-ahead to an ambitious plan to turn this unassuming island in the North Atlantic into an international sanctuary for free speech, putting Iceland at the leading edge of media openness but also pushing it into uncharted territory.

Suddenly, I really want to go to Iceland. The president invited me to his house for pancakes. And the mayor of Reykjavik asked me over for Icelandic sushi. Actually, it's not just me. These high-profile pols -- and a boatload of their countrymen -- are inviting visitors to come to dinner, go birdwatching, stick their feet in a geothermal pool or go for a walk with their dog. What started as a tourism campaign to "accept Iceland's invitation" to visit this winter has morphed into real events by real people behind those invites.

YOUR story about Reykjavik puzzles me ["Reykjavik Wet, Wild and a Little Weird," July 17]. My wife and I visited Iceland and its capital Reykjavik and found it to be only mildly interesting. Unless you are counting countries and are down near the end, I can't see spending your money -- and lots of it at that! -- visiting this nice, very civilized, very literate little country. If it were half the price of Europe, you might consider it. But twice? You get a whole lot more bang for your buck almost anywhere in Europe.

Because the term non-summit summit is so awkward, I propose that the coming events in Iceland be known as the Reykjavik Swap Meet. ROBERT R. RISHER 3RD Monrovia

Before Reykjavik became cool and clubby, before there were Björk and Sigur Rós and the cozy mix of musical genres found on the Icelandic record label and composer collective Bedroom Community, the only internationally known (and barely) Icelandic composer was a craggy individualist, Jón Leifs. He represented the Nordic island as seeming so fascinatingly remote from Europe and America that it might almost be on another planet. But the Reykjavik revealed by the Los Angeles Philharmonic's Green Umbrella Concert on Tuesday night in Walt Disney Hall felt more like a bedroom community of L.A. and New York.

Icelanders can drink whiskey, vodka, wine and Brennivin, the national spirit also called "Black Death." Beer, however, is illegal. The reasons for the ban, which came at the start of the century, have been lost over the years. Now, though most Icelanders have developed a taste for it via a black market, a small but influential abstinence movement argues that beer leads young people to stronger drinks and legalization would increase the nation's total alcoholic consumption.

In turning from the acknowledged Iran mistake, can liberals concede that the President's alleged Iceland imbroglio over the Strategic Defense Initiative and arms control has proven that "Reagan was right at Reykjavik"? When Ronald Reagan really gets closely involved with a foreign policy situation such as arms control, Nicaragua, Grenada, etc., it turns out that he is usually right on target and an invaluable leader. HARVEY PEARSON Los Angeles

Soviet leader Mikhail S. Gorbachev's wife, Raisa, will accompany him to next weekend's summit here with President Reagan, Iceland Prime Minister Steingrimur Hermannsson said Sunday. Mrs. Gorbachev, who also accompanied her husband to the last summit with Reagan in Geneva last November, will be the guest of Hermannsson's wife, Edda Gudmundsdottir. In Washington, White House spokesman Dale Petroskey said President Reagan's wife, Nancy, "has no plans to go" with him to Reykjavik.

Got a hard-hitting investigative story but can't get it past government censors at home? Publish it in Iceland instead. What about a website featuring classified, inflammatory or potentially libelous material? Park it on an Internet server here, without fear of legal harassment or official pressure to reveal your sources. Lawmakers here have given the go-ahead to an ambitious plan to turn this unassuming island in the North Atlantic into an international sanctuary for free speech, putting Iceland at the leading edge of media openness but also pushing it into uncharted territory.

Iceland is famous for two kinds of night life. One is the manic weekend reveling in the capital, Reykjavik, where young folk stream from bar to bar in the narrow cobblestone streets, drinking, dancing and striking occasional sparks until daybreak.

"Travel," says Leon Logothetis, "is fuel for the soul. " But what happens when the price of fuel hits the stratosphere? If you travel the way Logothetis does, that won't be an issue. He's the host of the reality show "Amazing Adventures of a Nobody," in which he travels on about $5 a day. Like Blanche DuBois, he depends on the kindness of strangers in his journeys in England, the Continent and the U.S. on only a few farthings. How does he do it? He's resourceful and creative.

I'M lying slack-jawed on a plank of hot wood, supine and defenseless over a gaping hole in the Earth's crust. Magma flows about a mile below me; above me, a drop of water condenses on the ceiling of a dimly illuminated steam room in the Myvatn Nature Baths, the lesser-known cousin to Iceland's iconic Blue Lagoon, that geothermal destination outside of Reykjavik often touted for its health benefits. Myvatn, near the town of Akureyri (riddled with consonants, Icelandic words are not easy to tackle, but saying "mee-VAHT" and "ah-KOO-ray-ree" will get you by)

I'm lying slack-jawed on a plank of hot wood, supine and defenseless over a gaping hole in the Earth's crust. Magma flows about a mile below me; above me, a drop of water condenses on the ceiling of a dimly illuminated steam room in the Myvatn Nature Baths, the lesser-known cousin to Iceland's iconic Blue Lagoon, that geothermal destination outside of Reykjavik often touted for its health benefits.

YOUR story about Reykjavik puzzles me ["Reykjavik Wet, Wild and a Little Weird," July 17]. My wife and I visited Iceland and its capital Reykjavik and found it to be only mildly interesting. Unless you are counting countries and are down near the end, I can't see spending your money -- and lots of it at that! -- visiting this nice, very civilized, very literate little country. If it were half the price of Europe, you might consider it. But twice? You get a whole lot more bang for your buck almost anywhere in Europe.

The chief American negotiator said Tuesday that the round of nuclear arms talks that ends today has been the most productive so far, partly because of "phenomenal agreements" reached at the U.S.-Soviet summit in Iceland. Max M. Kampelman said the basis for the Reykjavik agreements between President Reagan and Soviet leader Mikhail S. Gorbachev was laid in previous sessions of the Geneva talks, which began March 12, 1985.

Suddenly, I really want to go to Iceland. The president invited me to his house for pancakes. And the mayor of Reykjavik asked me over for Icelandic sushi. Actually, it's not just me. These high-profile pols -- and a boatload of their countrymen -- are inviting visitors to come to dinner, go birdwatching, stick their feet in a geothermal pool or go for a walk with their dog. What started as a tourism campaign to "accept Iceland's invitation" to visit this winter has morphed into real events by real people behind those invites.

"The smoked puffin is out of season right now, but other seabirds and whale are available tonight," said a svelte blond waitress after I had taken a seat at Thrir Frakkar restaurant. Frankly, I'd been expecting even more bizarre offerings. Days earlier, I had asked an Icelandic friend about sampling local foods on my weeklong trip here last summer.

A misty drizzle was falling again, beading on my bright orange rain pants and my horse's thick black mane. It was cold enough to make my nose run and my toes numb. But none of that mattered once we took off at a gallop along the muddy home stretch. Charging into the wet wind, speeding past massive hillsides and winding rivers and very startled sheep, I'd never felt as primal -- or as free.