I had a lot of time to think about this
past year.
In January my family lost Bumpa Bob, my "strong as an ox" 92 year old
Lithuanian grandfather. He had been ill and declining for awhile, and though he
was ready to go, we were not feeling ready to be without him.
In February, I was lucky enough to celebrate the bachelorette party of my friend
Kat with many of my best friends from college in Miami. This ended up being the
last vacation in the books for a good long while, and looking back I am so happy
to have had that quality time with my friends. At the last possible minute I
applied for a program at the University of Iceland, after learning that moving
to Iceland on a work permit wasn't as easy as I hoped.
In March, the teacher's union to which I
belonged went on strike. For three chilly days I walked the picket line with my
colleagues, and the students and families that we work with everyday, standing
and fighting for a fair contract that would benefit both students and staff.
Covid followed immediately after, an overlap between the strike and school
closures barely averted. The scramble to organize online learning, debrief from
the strike, and the stress of trying to meet the varied needs of so many
students weighed heavy on myself and the thousands of other staff in our school
district. I had always thought the flexibility of working from home sounded like
a cool gig, but in April found that it wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
As lockdown continued throughout April and into May I had received word that my
admission to the University of Iceland was approved and I began to go through
the annoyingly intricate process of applying for a residence permit for Iceland.
Every item on the checklist took ages longer than I expected, a lot in part to
Covid. I celebrated this opportunity to move abroad while stressing about every
detail and decision I made.
The weather improved as spring truly sprung and I
got better at appreciating more of the little things within the safety measures
necessary during Covid. A long walk on a nice spring day. A new episode of a
podcast I enjoyed. Spending time with my parents (with whom I was living with at
the time). Sitting outside on the patio during a socially distanced visit with
friends or my aunt. Netflix. Hulu. Disney Plus. All of these things made the
difficult parts easier.
Work ended for me in June, and I wrapped up the school
year with the few students who had managed to attend Speech sessions with me
throughout distance learning. I said a (possibly temporary?) goodbye to my
co-workers and began a leave of absence from my job. I sold my car, and began
the absolutely agonizing process of packing for my big move. What needed to go
into storage? What couldn't I live without? How many extra bags was I willing
and allowed to pay for on the flights to Iceland? I reminded myself many times
during this process that I could stay. I could keep my nice job, buy a nice
little townhouse, adopt a dog or two... or three. Sounded pretty nice. Or I
could listen to the ache I was feeling to try something different, somewhere
new.
In June and July I spent days figuring out and rescheduling flights to
Reykjavik that normally would be direct and easy. I was able enjoy one last
weekend soaking up Minnesota lake life over the 4th of July. The heat was
oppressive that weekend, and I both appreciated it as a limited commodity (not
something Iceland has) and cursed the sweaty discomfort, knowing that Minnesota
summers do have the ability to be more pleasant. I said goodbye to family and
friends in the days before my departure, wishing I could hug more people, but
limited by social distancing measures. I made many last minute masked trips to
Target and packed and unpacked my bags several dozen times.
On July 12th I
kissed my mom and dad goodbye at the airport and by the early morning hours of
July 13th I had officially moved here. The rest of July and August were fairly
typical of other recent summers. I spent time working at the museum in Hofsós,
enjoying the nature, and spending as much time around horses as possible. Covid
was present in Iceland, but controlled for the most part, and aside from a
limited number of tourists, most things in the country were functioning.
School
started for me in September. University classes were to be primarily online,
depending on how infection numbers were. I was comfortably settled in my
apartment in Reykjavik, living with a friend from Minnesota. It was
disappointing not to meet my new classmates in person, and not to be able to
forge new friendships as I had envisioned. I did some babysitting and returned
to Hofsós to participate in the sheep round-up. I bought a little car and felt
an added jolt of independence and an increased feeling that I was really living
here, not just visiting. I'm used to having my own car in MN, and so to not have
one here made me feel a little trapped. At the end of the month I went again to
Hofsós and ended up staying there nearly two months as Covid numbers in
Reykjavik rose, and restrictions increased as well.
Classes continued online in October and
I spent my days in Hofsós doing some school work, loafing around, occasionally helping with the sheep,
and going for walks with the resident sheep dog, Sól.
I returned to Reykjavik in
November and began looking for a part time job. I don't do well with too much
free time, and I had almost nothing but free time. Classes wrapped up a few
weeks ago, in the second week of September. My first semester of this program
was completed successfully, if not enthusiastically.
Now Christmas is over, and
2021 is just a few hours away. Big gatherings are not allowed, bars and
restaurants have limited capacities, and the traditional giant bonfires are
banned this year. My New Year's celebrations will consist of a tasty dinner, and
waving around some Iceland shaped sparklers with a friend or two.
2020 has in
many ways been a complete dumpster fire. The year began with literal fires in
Australia, and the west coast of the US. Freak storms and other natural
disasters all over the world. People being horrible to one another for terrible
reasons. A global pandemic that has cost many people their lives, and others
their livelihoods. There has been unrest and unhappiness galore. Two of my friends had to cancel their spring/summer weddings, and I was unable to take part in the wedding of a third friend due to the pandemic this fall.
There have also
been a few bright spots. I'll remember this year for having taken a chance and
made a big move. I'll remember the quality time I got to spend with my parents
in the months before I moved. I'll remember the effort and love that friends
have put into reaching out via phone, email, Zoom, etc. during many months of
quarantine. There was an immense amount of time to rest and to enjoy nature. These are important things to remember too.
Happy New Year. May the bright spots in 2021 outshine the dumpster fires.
