The End of an Era, or at Least an Internship

“But for three months each year, I am completely, stupidly happy, staring out the big windows at these marvelous mountains, the kaleidoscope colors of the sea, the gallery of clouds and weather that moves past, an opera of light and bird cries.” – Bill Holm, Windows of Brimnes, page 203.

My summer is coming to a close. My time in Hofsós is now complete. Three days from now I will be on an airplane back to Minnesota. Five days from now I will be back in my school office overlooking Interstate 94 instead of in the cozy museum lobby overlooking the Hofsós harbor. Opening week of work for staff in Saint Paul Public Schools starts on the 29^th and I will be there, at least physically. My mind will be on a mountaintop somewhere in the north of Iceland.

I’m back in Reykjavik for a few days now. Monday, I took an emotional bus ride from Hofsós back here to the capital. When I left, the weather echoed my mood; not quite raining, but almost. I was not quite crying, but almost. Saying goodbye to Valgeir and Gunna was wrenching. They have been so warm and generous and all together wonderful to me this summer, and I love them dearly. Valgeir reminded me as he drove me to the bus in Sauðárkrókur that I have family in Hofsós now. This warms my heart, and makes it that much more difficult to leave.

Hofsós

The view from my front porch

As the bus pulled me further and further from Hofsós, I made a list of the things I will miss about the quaint little village and the time I spent there this summer. Here is the highlight reel:

1. The mountains, and how they changed color in the different light.
2. The sound of rain on the metal roof that made for incredibly cozy mornings in my attic bedroom. 
3. The beautiful, 3 minute walk to and from work across the bridge and rushing river. Best commute in the world. 
4. Icelandic horses. Every single one. 
1. The faint smell of horses from the farm up on the ridge above the Emigration Center. Depending on which way the wind was blowing, I’d catch a healthy whiff of it when walking to work. 
2. Seeing the horses up on the ridge from my bedroom window. Occasionally waking up to the sound of distant whinnying and/or hoofbeats.
5. Watching the boats coming and going in the harbor. The view from “my office.”
6.  Gunna’s cheerful, “Hallo, hallo!” greeting as she rushes from place to place.
7. Valgeir’s grin as he calls me, “Malla palla,” or makes fun of my use of the phrase “easy peasy.”
8. Long, colorful, introspective walks along the beaches and down the dirt roads outside of town in the evenings. I might even miss the dive-bombing birds a little bit.
9. Family history research as a whole, but especially the flash of excitement or emotion in peoples’ eyes when we would find the correct name of an ancestor in a book or the computer database.
10. The smell of the moss and plants, especially up in the mountains when the sun is shining and it’s nice and warm-ish.
11. Berry picking. Being able to hike and pick berries as I went made me feel like a wild mountaineer that could have survived in the mountains for ages, living off the land. In reality I would have run for home the minute it got dark, but it was nice to imagine for a while.
12. The super suspicious sheep. Sheep can side-eye with the best of them.
13. Wonderfully cool summer temperatures. Never feeling overheated.
14. The sound of the waves lapping (sometimes crashing) up on the rocky beach.
15. The view of the fjord and the mountains from the kitchen sink in Siða that made washing dishes a little less annoying.

"fjord contemplation"

Riding with the district horseback riding club, which was incredible

One of many good thinking spots

I think more than anything, I will miss the person I am in Iceland. Maybe not completely laid back (that will just never happen), but definitely more relaxed. More willing to go with the flow and just see what happens. Many of my normal responsibilities were left behind in Minnesota, and I know I will be returning to them soon enough. But it has been nice to have a little break from the normal day to day worries and schedule. I've been able to take a deep breath or two and just enjoy being, and expecting the unexpected. Sure, the Icelandic “þetta reddast” mindset can drive me a little nuts sometime. This idea, the country’s motto, that “everything will work out” means that there is less emphasis on planning ahead. And I LOVE to plan ahead. It’s my drug of choice. Trying to get an Icelander to commit to (solid, detailed) plans more than a few days ahead of time can be a lesson in frustration. More often than not the response is, “We will talk about it,” or “We will see.” So, if you can’t beat them, join them. It has (mostly) worked for me this summer. Yes, there are times when it would be nice to plan something more than an hour in advance. But, amazingly, it truly always does seem to work out, even when planning is last minute and a little stressful for those of us used to booking events weeks in advance. This has been a good lesson for me both in patience and trust. And I am always thinking I need a little more spontaneity in my life. This fit the bill.

 I may have worked more this summer than I have in a long, long time, but it was fun work. Satisfying work. Heart work, and not just money work. I’m going to try to find more of that once I get home. Change may not be immediate, but it is something I can work towards. I feel recharged. Inspired. I’ve registered for a hippotherapy (horse therapy) workshop in the middle of September, and am making it my goal to try some new things and see where they lead, professionally and personally. My heart is beating a little faster than it was before, anticipating the opportunities that lay before me, and it is a bit more full with these people and places, which is a double edged sword, for now I have more things to miss when I return to Minnesota.

Bill Holm knew of the powerful, recharging powers of Hofsós. It was one of the many things that brought him back there year after year. What drove him to buy his house, Brimnes, and spend so many summers of his life there. It is tempting to copy his choices in this. I could see myself settled in a little house along the beach there. My mother would kill me, but in the days or weeks it would take her to track me down, it would really be lovely.

Bill wrote about how the wider world waited for him to return after spending time in Hofsós. How a commercial and technology driven world still lurked not so far away, but in Hofsós he was able to ignore it for a time. To come and relearn how to enjoy the simple pleasures, good people, and the breathtaking sights that this small town has to offer.

“So I come here to this spare place. A little thinning and pruning is good for the soul. We see more clearly when the noise is less, the objects fewer.” –Bill Holm, Windows of Brimnes, page 24.

            For these three months I have been "stupidly happy," as I thought and pruned, and thought some more. Sure, there were a few times when I felt a bit lonely, but that can happen in Minnesota as well, from time to time. I would not have traded this experience for the world. All it took was a walk along the beach or to watch the sunset over Malmey or þórðarhöfði and I would fall right back into a blissful state. How lucky I was to be there and to have had this opportunity. It was life changing to spend these months in this quirky little town at the edge of the world. A big part of me wants to throw caution to the wind and find a way to stay forever (see above, re: mother killing me). 

Reykjavik sunset

Reykjavik sailboat party

Rooftop patio view of 101 Reykjavik

View from Perlan on this hot and sunny afternoon.

Dramatic statue men at Perlan

Perlan

Erin Jones and I at Perlan

For the next few days here in Reykjavik I have just a few set plans. A couple of coffee and dinner invitations, details often TBD. Erin Jones and I are planning a day trip tomorrow to Snæfellsnes area. I am not too worried about exactly where we will go or what we will do. I’m just happy to have an adventure with my friend. I will “þetta reddast” with the best of them. Mostly I'm just enjoying every last minute I have here and trying not to think too much yet about what exactly will happen once I get home; all the things I will have to do as I start another school/work year, and find a new apartment, and get myself settled again. 

 I’m so lucky to have a job that allows me to have an entire summer off for an adventure like this. I know I will be back in Iceland, probably sooner rather than later. I have too many people and places I love here to stay away for too long.

Thank you to the Snorri Alumni Internship Program, the US Embassy, The Icelandic Emigration Center in Hofsós, and everyone else who helped to put this program together. I’ve had the time of my life.

I started this blogging season with an airport bar selfie. I much
prefer this Hofsós beach selfie taken on one of my last nights in town.

Þórðarhöfði Hike

On Wednesday I took a day off. It was the first day I'd taken off in weeks and I was very ready for it. I was planning to go horseback riding, but that got canceled the night before due to an illness. There was no help for it, but to say I was severely disappointed would be an understatement. I haven't been able to ride as much as I had hoped to this summer, so I was pretty bummed that this opportunity got canceled as well. I rallied and the next morning made plans to go hiking on Þórðarhöfði instead. Þórðarhöfði is a very interesting looking headland just a few kilometers north of Hofsós. I admit, I was not in a the highest of spirits when I started my hike. I got a ride out to the "trailhead" and tried to shake off my glum mood as I began to walk. Hofsós has been so lovely, but I have started to feel a bit socially deprived over these last few weeks. I spend a lot of time alone, so I wasn't really looking forward to spending a day hiking alone.  However, I wanted to do something with my day off and wanted to hike this headland, and this seemed like a good day to do it. This little bit lonely feeling has been mixed with my increasing angst over having to so soon return to Minnesota. I want to stay. I want to go. I'm very torn. Indecision has been a nagging force in my life this past year, and if I was hoping to escape it here, I've failed.

The walk to the headland

Looking back to where I started (across the connecting beach), and where I would have to walk again at the end of the day.

Drangey

I think that rock formation looks like a bear

Hofsós from Þórðarhöfði

The hike was long; much longer than I thought it would be (mostly by choice). I actually feel bad because all summer I've been telling tourists it would be a two or so hour endeavor. I mean, I guess you could do that if you booked it and didn't stick around long. I took seven (fairly leisurely) hours to explore, so call me a liar. It took me almost an hour just to reach the headland from where I'd been dropped off on the highway. You have to have a SuperJeep in order to drive on the beach that connects þórðarhöfði to the main land, and I didn't happen to have one of those sitting around, so I hoofed it.

Oh, and thanks a lot to the smartass that planted this nightmare (see photo below) along the path. I almost had a heart attack, and an expletive sailed out of my mouth before I could even think about stopping it. There are some sick people in this world.

Terrifying bird head.

Upon reaching the headland, I spent hours climbing up and down the various peaks, at each one thinking I would wrap things up and start to head back. But at each little summit I was awed by the views and motivated to go explore the next one. What if what was over the next hill was even better? There's a fable in here somewhere.

Lighthouse on Málmey

Málmey

I had a picnic lunch on my own little mountaintop. By this time I had reclaimed a more positive attitude and was enjoying the adventure, though I think I still would have preferred to have some human company. It was sunny and warm for most of the day. There were blueberries everywhere. I could walk wherever I wanted and I could sing as loud as I wanted to because the only other creatures within miles were birds and sheep, and they didn't have the ability to complain. There are advantages to solo hiking in the middle of nowhere.

Lunch site

Sheep wishing I would shut up

Majestically trying to ignore me.

Taking a break

I finally decided I had had enough and made the return journey down the headland and across the beach toward the highway. My legs were tired and my feet in agony due to a couple of new blisters I'd collected over the course of the day. I think it's time to retire my elderly hiking boots. They do more harm than good, at this point in their careers. Valgeir picked me up just before I made it back to the highway and brought me to Vatn (the farm) where he and Gunna fed me rice pudding and smoked trout on homemade rye bread. Delicious. He also threw in a few slivers of slátur - both blóðmör (blood pudding) and lifrapylsa (liver sausage). The meal, he told me afterwards, was to test how Icelandic I really was. I like everything except the blood pudding, which really isn't bad...it just isn't good, so I think I mostly passed the test.

Call Me Ishmael. Actually, Don't Call Me Ishmael.

The weather in Hofsós over the last week has been extremely pleasant, as far as Icelandic summer weather goes. We have had abundant sunshine and brisk, but pleasant temperatures. On these sorts of days it is difficult to stay indoors and I am always looking for things to do that will place me out in the sunshine after work. The last three nights have offered such opportunities. 

Thursday evening I was able to go to my second art show of the summer, at the farm, Bær. http://www.baer.is/about/ The latest group of artists was finishing up their monthlong residency and showcasing the work they have done while in Iceland. Viktor accompanied Erica and I, and his grandmother, Gunna. He was less interested in the art, and more interested in the cookies and juice, and doing front flips on the back lawn, but then I think, so was I. 

 
Things that make me laugh: this video.

Viktor

Friday evening, Erica and I were both looking for some unstructured outdoor adventure, so we borrowed Valgeir's truck and drove just a short way down the highway to where there is a turnoff up to the mountain. We left the car down low, near the road, and for the next several hours wandered up and around the beautiful foothills, sometimes together and sometimes on our own. 

Erica

We picked handfuls of blueberries and marveled at the colorful moss and wildflowers. At one point we forded the little river, taking off our shoes and plunging into the ice cold mountain water. It was a good thing my feet were numb by the time I made it to the other side, because the sharp rocks there would have been even more stabby and unpleasant if I'd had any functioning pain receptors. 

Cold, pale toes

Climbing to the tip-top was not the point of the evening. I was happy just to wander and take in the scenery. Around 10:30 the sun dipped below the horizon line, turning the sky a striking, soft orange color. In several places I had a good sit and simply reveled in the fact that I was in Iceland. It occurred to me, not for the first time, how lucky I am to be here this summer. Cue emotional theme music. 

Málmey in the sunset

Yesterday after work I had the chance to go out fishing on the fjord, which was a complete delight. I love to fish, but had never been fishing in the ocean before, so this was quite exciting. It was possibly the most perfect evening that I have had here this summer, and that is really saying something. Valgeir and Gunna set it up for us with the Sailing in Skagafjörður tour company, (highly recommended) which runs out of the harbor here in Hofsós. I have enviously watched the boat come and go all summer, and last night I got to try it out for myself. Valgeir, his son Þröstur, daughter-in-law Rósa, and their two sons, Viktor and Valgeir Orri all went as well. We cruised out into the fjord and headed north to take a look at the back side of Þórðarhöfði, which is a really cool looking headland. It has some truly impressive rock formations and was fascinating to see from the water. I still have not taken a day to hike Þórðarhöfði, but am determined to do it before I leave. 

Our boat captain moved us into a good spot to do some fishing, and mere seconds after the lines (3 hooks each!) had been released into the water there were fish on the hooks. Big, delicious cod, fresh from the Arctic Ocean (or North Atlantic, maybe? I'm a little fuzzy on ocean geography and where one becomes the other). It was just as fun to watch the others catch them as it was to actually fish and catch them myself. The ill fated fish were immediately tossed into a container at the back of the boat and gutted, which drew a mob of seagulls who were looking for a tasty fish gut treat.  At one point I was certain I had caught THE BIG ONE. My white whale. I had a hell of a time reeling it in. With each crank I was wondering how large and impressive this fish was going to be. Was it something other than the plentiful Cod and occasional Haddock we had been catching? Some sort of fascinating, giant, ocean-dwelling legend? No. Turns out I had somehow hooked a normal sized cod in the back and so was dragging the poor, slimy little guy sideways across the ocean, which only made him seem like a monster. Story of my life. Oh well.

Valgeir (and a fish)

Reeling like a pro.

We were out on the water for a couple hours in total, and I loved every minute of it. When we returned to the harbor I was invited back to Gunna and Valgeir's house for a late, fresh fish dinner, which ended up being one of the most amazing meals I've ever had. The frozen tilapia fillets I occasionally buy in Minnesota are a pathetic excuse for a fish dinner, compared to this. I've been spoiled.

An "after" picture of the fish

While dinner was being prepared, I had the honor of playing outside with Viktor and Valgeir Orri. Valgeir Orri took a shine to me this weekend, and when in my presence, said my name as often as he took a breath. "Mal-O-Ree! Sjáðu! (Look!)" he hollers as he throws a stone with great aplomb, or splashes masterfully into the water with his little rain boots. "Mal-O-Ree! Komðu! (Come on!)" He instructs as he leads me over to see something cool. They say to never go to the second location, but I willingly followed this cute little fellow all over the place and lived to tell the tale. I even got a shy hug from him before he went back to Reykjavik this afternoon. Be still, my heart.

My buddies.

OH! One more wild thing! I experienced my first earthquake! Just before I went to bed last night, the whole house gave a full body shudder that lasted maybe a couple of seconds. It was the strangest thing. I wasn't even 100% sure that's what it was until I read about it this morning, though I had my suspicions. It measured at 3.7 on the Richter scale and was located off the coast of Siglufjörður from what I have read. Pretty exciting. 

Tonight I was supposed to go horseback riding, but there was a scheduling conflict with the girl who has the horses, so that will have to wait until Wednesday. Instead, I'm going to attend a church service at a teeny tiny turf church called Gröf. I can't remember the last time I went to church, so hopefully I don't burst into flames when I walk through the door or anything. Stay tuned.