Volcano Tuesday

I do not usually spend my Tuesday evenings hiking around an active volcano, or hiking anywhere for that matter. This week, however, I shook up my normal routine and went to check out the newest tourist attraction in Iceland. The volcano is called Geldingadalsgos ("gos" = eruption) since it is mainly located in Geldingadalur, which means "Castration Valley" in English. Cute name, huh?

It took a little over an hour to hike from the car to the best viewing areas around the eruption site. My three hiking companions and I were not the only ones visiting the volcano that evening. Hundreds, and maybe even thousands of other residents and tourists paraded along the rough paths set up by the rescue team volunteers in the last few weeks since the eruptions began on March 19th. People have been calling this a "tourist volcano" since it is in a pretty accessible area near the capitol, and has so far been small enough and free enough of poisonous gasses for people to come and check it out. Iceland offers volcanic fun for the whole family.

There is one area of the hiking route in particular that is pretty dang steep, and I was quickly reminded how much time I spend sitting down not doing aerobic activity. There was admittedly some huffing and puffing. Put me on flat ground and I can keep marching on and on like the Energizer Bunny. But inclines? Come on. I was born and raised in the flatlands, and my body is more comfortable at low elevations. I was motivated to keep climbing not only so I could see the volcano, but because there was a wide variety of ages and athletic abilities also making the climb, and I wasn't about to be shown up by a 70 year old man with a beer belly and a pack-a-day wheeze. The rescue group has been busy every day helping the unprepared, the unlucky, and the under exercised, and I didn't want to be counted among their numbers.

The hike into the valley. This is looking back the way we had come,
after having made it up the steepest part.

First sighting

Though I was excited at the prospect of seeing a volcano, I underestimated how incredibly amazing it actually would be to witness such an extraordinary natural phenomenon. I was absolutely blown away (figuratively) when I first laid eyes on it from afar, and my awe only grew as we made our way closer. When watching tv footage of the volcano and its human visitors over the past month, I was shocked to see how close people got to the lava flows. Like, stupidly close. People have set frying pans on semi-cooled chunks of lava rock to cook bacon and eggs, or set up a kettle to boil water for tea. I've seen people tossing rocks or a handful of moss into the lava to see what happens. Since I have no desire to watch people be burned alive by a surprise bubble of lava, or be swallowed by the earth as a new fissure opens up, it is highly uncomfortable to watch such seemingly foolish behavior. I saw some of these wild and carefree actions live last night, and had to just shake my head. I guess I can see the temptation of it. It's the absolute coolest thing I've ever seen, and for most people is a once in a lifetime experience. I got closer to the lava than I thought I would have, but my self preservation instincts are strong and kept me at a relatively safe distance. Happily, it seemed like everyone there last night kept all of their limbs, despite the fact that some of them were playing it pretty fast and loose with common sense.

See mom, I'm not as close as some of those fools.

We stayed long enough to see the eruption site in full darkness. It looked even more magnificent at night, though it made for a trickier hike back to the car. I was glad I had borrowed Erin's headlamp and hiking poles. It was due to those tools that I only tripped and fell once. Depending on how long this eruption lasts (it could end any minute or it could continue for a hundred years) I may be lucky enough to go and see it again. If so, I'd happily spend another Tuesday evening huffing and puffing up the side of a mountain to see this tourist attraction.

If you'd like to see what is happening at the eruptions site right now, check out this live web cam of the volcano.

The Year in Review

I spent four hours driving the curvy, mountainous route between Hofsós and Reykjavik today; the final day of 2020. 

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.

Heading to Hofsós

I went on some very nice walks during my "quarantine" between Covid tests

Second Covid-19 test was negative 5 days after the first, so now I can go do all the things.

You’d think I would have had enough rest in the five lazy days I spent in “light quarantine” at my cousin Selma’s apartment this week. But no. I overslept and would have missed my 9am bus to Hofsós if Selma hadn’t woken me at 8:30 to give me a ride to the bus station. I should have been dressed and ready by then, but instead spent the next five minutes frantically getting dressed and throwing things into my suitcase. My teeth remained unbrushed and my eyelashes un-mascarad. Sorry, fellow bus passengers. 

We made it to the station with plenty of time. Probably should have taken that extra minute to brush my teeth after all. I was even able to sit leisurely in my bus seat and watch a group of young adults from an undetermined country in Europe (Germany?) struggling to find room to stow their bicycles on the bus. As this is the only bus that heads north to this part of Iceland on a Saturday, people are motivated to make it work. It’s not like you can just catch the next bus in twenty minutes.

I tossed my bags in the large storage hubs under the bus and hugged Selma goodbye. She and her boyfriend Axel have been amazing hosts to me this past week while I waited for the all clear on my Covid tests. The ancient man in the driver’s seat who was selling tickets took a long, uncertain look at me and asked, “fullordnið eða ungmenni?” Adult or teen? “Fullordnið,” I told him. He held his hand to his ear in the universal signal for ‘speak up.’  Fullordnið.” I said a little louder. His fingers hesitated over the buttons on the credit card machine as he considered whether or not to ask me a third time. His eyes met mine and I said again, “fullordnið.” His eyes dropped away and I could tell he still didn’t understand me, though I assumed he was going to charge me the adult price. The fact that he was even asking was bizarre enough. He took his time to press a few buttons and I handed him my credit card. He handed me the receipt and I moved further into the bus to find a seat, glancing at the thin piece of paper in my hand. Wait, only 2,859 kronur charged to my card? The old man charged me the much cheaper teenager price! Now I’m not only worried about his hearing, but his sight as well. Should he be driving?  Maybe he could foresee the cookie crumbs that would soon be sprinkled on my shirt, and the Taylor Swift music I planned to listen to on the journey. Maybe my inner 16 year old was shining a little too brightly this morning. Normally I feel like each and every one of my 33 years shows up pretty clearly, especially early in the morning, sans makeup. Not today! Or at least not to a half-blind, half-deaf old bus driver in Iceland on this cloudy July morning. I guess I’ll take it.

Resigned to my scruffy, teenage bus identity today I settled in and enjoyed the view out the windows. There are countless sheep and horses grazing in fields along the route. I get a thrill seeing them and thinking of how soon I’ll be seeing my own horse, Frami, who I’m sure is waiting longingly in Hofsós for me. “Ma-hah-hah-hallory!” he will neigh when he sees me.  These are the things I think on the bus (and sometimes off). Please keep reading. It isn’t all going to be so strange.

Everything at this time of year is lush and green. None of the mountains in view here are tall enough to have any snow remaining on their tops at this time of year. Another few months and it will be a different story.  Later in the drive there are taller mountains, and patches of snow still cling in little nooks and crannies in the stone there.  We make many stops in the first hour or so of bus route 57 from Mjödd in Reykjavik to Akureyri. After that the stops are few and far between. Sauðárkrókur is my stop, about an hour and a half before the end of the line in Akureyri. Someone will pick me up there and drive me up to Hofsós. I assume. Wait, I should probably confirm that with someone up there. (Takes short writing break to text Gunna in Hofsós).

Blurry bus window picture, before the rain started.

I’m looking forward to seeing all my people in Hofsós and getting to spend several weeks there before returning to Reykjavik around the middle of August to start school and get settled in a new apartment with my roommate and friend, fellow former Snorri, Erin Johnson. In Hofsós I can chase sheep, ride horses, and spend lovely days at Vesturfarasetrið, the Icelandic Emigration Center, helping people research their Icelandic ancestry. The center overlooks the harbor in Hofsós, and is a cozy place to be regardless of the weather. I’m volunteering with Icelandic Roots again this summer, an amazing genealogy database. People coming in to Vesturfarasetrið often have questions about their ancestors, or about long lost cousins that may be living either in Iceland or abroad. We have tons of resources there to look up information. With Covid-19 ongoing, I doubt there will be many Canadian or American visitors at the center this summer, but Gunna and Valgeir have said that Vesturfarasetrið is staying very busy anyway, with more local visitors I would guess. I can’t wait to get there and see. 

The 11th Time's the Charm: Moving to Iceland

The day has finally arrived! I’m on my way to Iceland, and not just for a visit. This time I’m moving there, and despite the feelings of guilt and sadness over leaving my friends and family in the US behind, it feels like the right thing for me to do. I'm more than a little excited.

    “Why Iceland?” many people have asked me. For those who don’t know the comprehensive history of my Iceland obsession, this is what I tell them: My dad’s dad’s branch of the family is Icelandic. As a child I was somewhat aware of this fact, but the impact was subtle. An occasional Icelandic heritage celebration to attend in North Dakota, a familiarity with certain Icelandic foods and desserts, and a few familiar phrases that had managed to make their way down through 3 generations to my own childhood; “Góða nótt” and “sestu niður”(which my family pronounces with an Americanized twist as "Set the snithur").

    It was sometime in high school that my interest in genealogy arose. One time, when talking with my dad about our Icelandic side of the family tree, we discussed how amazing it would be to visit Iceland someday, and he said something about how he and I would go there when I finished college. I’m the sort of person that locks onto a comment like that, and from then on I was dead set on visiting Iceland after finishing undergrad. Dad and I did indeed go to Iceland in 2009, when I graduated with my Speech-Language-Hearing Science bachelor's degree from the University of Minnesota. We spent 10 days driving around the ring road, and it was, to this day, one of the best trips I’ve ever been on. At that point in time we had pretty limited information on family history details, and a lack of exact locations of old family farms. We also didn’t have the wide spread contingent of knowledgeable Icelandic friends and cousins that I have now who have been able to help fill in the blanks for us. We drove down unmarked roads and explored streams, glacial lagoons, and waterfalls on all ends of the country. We rode horses, stayed up late under the midnight sun, and made dozens of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to eat along the way. 

First time in Iceland- with my dad in 2009

First time in Iceland- with my dad in 2009

    That trip fueled my passion for Iceland, and in 2011 I was able to participate in The Snorri program. Snorri was a life changing experience for me. I’m not going to go on too much about it, as I’ve already written many a blog post about how wonderful it was. Spectacular adventures, new perspectives, the making of life-long friends, etc. You can read all about it in my 2011 Snorri posts.

Snorri Program adventures- 2011

    Since Snorri, I have been back to Iceland 9 times, all but once during the summer. I've toured around everywhere, met tons of cousins and friends, and now even have my own horse there! I’m extraordinary lucky to have been able to travel to Iceland so often, and to stay for as long as I did each time. It’s thanks to my job in a school with long summers off, and generous host friends and family in Iceland that have allowed me to stay with them over the years when I come visiting.

Now on this, my 11th trip, I’m coming to stay. 

My horse, Frami, who is now 1 year old

    So, what am I going to do in Iceland? In my mind, the picture I've painted is that I'll be frolicking through seaside meadows in the endless summer sun with a herd of wild horses. The reality? Maybe a little bit of frolicking... but mainly I'm enrolled in a master's degree program at the University of Iceland in Reykjavik this fall. So I'll be doing a lot of that. It is a two year program in International Education Studies, but my plan is to see how the first year goes. I'll find a part time job somewhere and just see how it is to live in Reykjavik. If I like being there I'll stick around. If I don't, I'll leave. Pretty simple. After 10 years of spending a good chunk of my summer in Iceland, I want to see if I love the rest of the year there as much as I love summer time. Winter in Iceland is a whole different story, which I've only experienced once. It will be interesting to see how I do long term with the lack of daylight in the deepest, darkest part of winter.

Now, some of you might be thinking, "But, Mallory!! Americans are not currently allowed to leave our cesspool of a country...The rest of the world wants nothing to do with our reckless, Covid-riddled citizens!" That's pretty much correct. However, I have a residence permit for Iceland now, so, I think... I hope... they'll let me on the plane to Iceland this evening. I'll have to take a Covid-19 test upon arrival at the airport in Iceland, and then, assuming I am negative will have to go into a "light quarantine" for 4 or 5 days at my cousin Selma's house. At that point I have to go to a local health center to get re-tested. If I'm negative a second time I can go about my business. They've got a pretty good handle on things over there, Covid wise. I'm plenty happy to follow the rules and make sure I'm not dragging any germs there with me.

Gallery of Flags at BOS, with Iceland on the top left

Right now I'm sitting in the disturbingly quiet Logan Airport in Boston on a 10-hour layover. I had a flight from Minneapolis to Boston this morning at 7am since there aren't any direct flights from MSP to Iceland this summer due to the pandemic. Now I have to wait until 8:50pm for my flight from Boston to Iceland. On my first flight, with my mask securely donned, and carry-on luggage stowed, I wiped down every surface within my reach with a Clorox wipe. My backpack contains every sort of surface wipe, hand wipe, and anti-bacterial goo known to man, along with a large pack of extra masks. Traveling during Covid is not ideal, but I’m grateful that I’m able to get to Iceland at all this summer.

Airplane boyfriend (ABF) pickings on my first flight were extremely slim, as there were only 32 other people on the whole flight. I did find a cute one though, and conveniently enough, I was seated in the same aisle as my chosen ABF. I shared my Clorox wipes, gum, and wint-o-green peppermints with him in a pandemic era meet-cute so epic that our little Airplane Grandchildren will someday repeatedly tell the tale with a gleam in their little eyes. He was a very good ABF too, in that after thanking me for the mints he didn't speak a word to me for the rest of the flight. That's the dream. Fingers crossed I find another good ABF on the next flight.

My mountain of luggage waiting with me at the empty Boston airport

My second flight doesn't leave for another 8 hours, and it'll be at least 4 hours before I can drop off my mountain of luggage at the check-in desk. I'd like to walk around the airport, but as long as I have to manage this clumsy trolley full of baggage that insists on perpetually veering to the right, a rolling suitcase that doesn't fit on the trolley, and a backpack that weighs more than most 4 year old children, it's just too much work. I immediately work up a sweat, and as much as I respect mask wearing during this weird time, sweating, huffing, and puffing in a mask makes them even less fun to wear. I'll stay put for awhile. I found a good place to sit near an outlet and in sight of a bathroom. None of the shops are open in this part of the airport, but I have dried mango and a vanilla dunk-a-roos pack to snack on. What more could a girl ask for?

For those of you who have been asking me to keep you updated on what I'm doing over in Iceland: I plan to write entries here fairly regularly. I'll probably start strong and then taper off. I'm sure I'll post pictures on social media (FB and Instagram) from time to time as well. My email is still the same, but for those of you in the US that want to stay in touch via phone/text, sent me a message and I'll get back to you with my new Google voice number that is still a 612 US area code. 

Thank you for the support and well-wishes for safe travel and new adventures that I've received from so many people! I hope lots of people come to visit me once the world is a safer place to travel. It's more than a little scary to walk away from a good job and wonderful friends and family to do something new like this, but I'm ready to give it a try. 

Shut up, Anthony Bourdain

“Travel isn’t always pretty. It isn’t always comfortable. Sometimes it hurts, it even breaks your heart. But that’s okay. The journey changes you; it should change you.  It leaves marks on your memory, on your consciousness, on your heart, and on your body. You take something with you. Hopefully, you leave something good behind.” -Anthony Bourdain

As I tenderly poke at my bruised arm, like the glutton for punishment that I am, I scrunch my nose in annoyance as I think of Anthony Bourdain's famous travel quote. In this case, my ability to relate to his quote is physical rather than emotional, and the tale is a little too recent to look back upon and giggle about it.

A little more than 24 hours after I arrived in Iceland I took the bus back to the airport for my flight to Denmark. I’d had a full night of sleep in a comfortable, non-airplane seat bed, and I was ready and wishing for more adventures. I just wish I had been more specific in that I wanted the adventures to wait to start until after I’d settled myself comfortably in in Copenhagen. My flight was delayed about an hour…no big deal. Then, Icelandair announced that due to the recalls on the Boeing 737s, part of their fleet was benched and so we would be flying on planes rented from some Spanish airline I’ve never heard of before. The plane seats were so small and the rows close together, that even I, (5’3” on a good day, and with short little legs) could sit fully back in my chair and still touch my knees to the seat in front of me. A little too cozy for my liking, but not the end of the world. Adding a little to the irritation was the fact that these rental planes did not have the entertainment systems/screens on the back of each seat, so I was unexpectedly low on options of things to keep me busy for the three hour ride. All together, not off to a great start. I was, however, excited to be heading to Denmark, and not overly worried about being a little uncomfortable for a couple of hours. I snuggled into the tight space and prepared to make the most out of the experience.

Tight quarters

This summer marks my 10th visit to Iceland, so I’ve come and gone from the International airport in Keflavik plenty of times, and the domestic airport in Reykjavik several times as well. The view when leaving Keflavik and heading west toward the States isn’t much to see after the first few minutes. The land is quickly left in the dust, and then it is seemingly endless ocean and clouds. When heading east, you get the chance to see Reykjavik from above, and depending on cloud cover, good chunks of the rest of the country. On this flight, through the low hanging clouds over the Snæfellsnes Peninsula I glimpsed Snæfellsjökull there on the point, its icy white cap making it stand out from the mountain range it punctuates. I got a great view of the sprawl of Reykjavík and surrounding suburbs, all blending into one another. I spotted Tjörnin, and a few other of my favorite places to stroll around the city. A large ship floated far out in the bay, looking minute from my vantage point. We headed further inland and clouds began to interrupt the view. I’ve been lucky enough to see the land below on domestic flights to East Iceland on other visits, so I didn’t mind the cloud cover much. During the clear patches I looked below and wondered how many of the farms are ones I have driven past on various road trips along the South coast.

Reykjavik from above

Icelandic countryside from above

The shining glaciers and snow capped mountains below stood out in sharp contrast to the rivers and lakes that varied in color from nearly black, to blue-green, to reddish brown. The clouds took over almost completely as we passed above Vatnajökull, the largest of the Icelandic glaciers. We were gaining altitude and it became impossible to distinguish the white of the glacier from the white of the clouds. 

In my effort to take pictures of the cool views below (for your benefit, dear readers) my phone slipped from my fingers and became a victim of the dreaded crack between the seat and the wall of the plane. The lady behind me tried to help recover it, but there was no room for either of us to get down to ground level and dig around for it without unseating all of our closely packed neighbors. My phone would have to wait to be rescued until we landed. This turned out to be a much bigger problem than I realized at that time. Read on, and you’ll see what I mean.

The book I had started while waiting at the gate was a bit on the depressing side, so instead of whiling away my time reading I clicked into a brainless app on my iPod touch (yes, I still have one of these for music, and it’s a good thing too, since my phone took a dive) called Ballz, and I spent far too long breaking my way through layers of numbered blocks with ever an increasing number of digital green balls. When my iPod battery died I switched back and forth between staring out the window and staring longingly at the mysterious void where my phone had disappeared. I thought of all the pictures I could have been taking or stupid games I could have been playing.

We landed around 10:20PM, Copenhagen time. Denmark is two hours ahead of Iceland. I had to wait for everyone in my row and the row behind me to get out of my way before I could search for my phone properly. I literally tore the seat cushion off my my chair and several others, thinking it had gotten jammed in the frame somewhere, but it was nowhere to be found. I searched along the floor and felt a pit form in my stomach. There, along the edge, where the dirty airplane carpeting met the dirty plastic wall panels was A GAP.  A phone sized gap. With horror, I realized that my phone hadn’t just fallen under my seat. It had fallen INTO the airplane. I flagged down a stewardess as the last of the passengers scurried off the plane, their luggage and phones safely in their hands. I was the moron that had lost my phone inside the walls of the plane. How does that even happen? How does my phone fall into the one crack on the whole airplane large enough to consume a device that size?

To make a long, sweaty, and embarrassing story a little shorter, 8 airline staff, 3 phone calls to uselessly far away airline mechanics, and 40 minutes later, I zipped my phone into my backpack and marched off the plane as fast as I could. 

The longer version:

My right arm is now bruised from stem to stern from reaching past the wall panel and groping around for my phone amongst the pipes and god knows what else inside the walls of the plane. But I got my phone. For anyone who has flown Delta lately, (this was Icelandair, but this story is relevant) in their safety video they show a cartoon passenger dropping their phone and the narrator politely requests that should this happen that you ask an attendant for assistance. Well, I asked for assistance, but it didn’t do much good. In the 40 minutes it took me to get frustrated enough to slide down onto the floor between the rows of seats and get the phone myself, 8 other staff (with good intentions, I’m sure) came over to offer flashlights, call someone, or peek down and tell me they couldn’t see the phone, or tell me to write down my name and phone number so that once they got back to Iceland a mechanic could retrieve my phone and call me. I explained the flaw in this logic several times with increasing irritation. 

I headed for baggage claim, starving, dripping with sweat, and very ready to just sit on a quiet, cool train on the way to my friend Steinar’s apartment. He would be away in Sweden for a birthday party for most of the time I’m in Copenhagen and had kindly offered to let me couch surf. I managed to miss the train I was supposed to take (it was full and then the doors slammed shut before I could wedge my way on!) and then misunderstand the train schedule so thoroughly that I end up giving up and taking a cab. Now that I’ve been here for a whole two days I have a much improved understanding of the train and bus system and like to think I would be able to figure it out if the same situation came up again. It was well after midnight before I arrived at the apartment. Steinar is a hero and welcomed me with a 5 star quality dinner of gnocchi, prosciutto, and a big glass of wine. I’ve never been so glad to see someone (and a glass of wine) in my life.

On Friday morning, my host had long since gone to work when I arose from my cozy couch bed. I hadn’t been able to buy a Copenhagen Card the night before due to my delay getting off the plane. The Copenhagen card is a tourist attraction pass for a whole bunch of site seeing sorts of things. Once you’ve bought one it includes admission to many of the museums and castles and other tours around the Copenhagen area, along with all transportation for the duration of the pass. My first act of morning #1 in Denmark was acquiring one of those cards, as well as a SIM card for my phone so I could have data to navigate and calling/texting to communicate more easily with the few people I know in Denmark. My Icelandic SIM card doesn’t work in Denmark, which I found out the hard way when I was trying to look up the train schedule at the airport the night before. Like I’ve been saying, it was a difficult journey.

My luck started to turn around, because I was able to get the SIM card and Copenhagen Card with relative ease near the main train station. High on those successes, I walked across the street to Tivoli to put my tourist pass to work. I spent a couple of hours wandering around the little amusement park and gardens, admiring the beauty and quirkiness and wishing like hell that I had put on a thicker layer of sunscreen. The sun was beating down on my pale skin and I could almost feel the sizzle on the tip of my nose and my chest. I was expecting Icelandic temperatures here in Denmark, not a heatwave. Whoops. 

Tivoli

Tivoli

A little Danish decor

After Tivoli I navigated myself (with the help of my new SIM card and Google) over to a tour of the canals, and spent another hour or so baking in the sun on a long, flat tourist boat. Even amongst all the novel sights and excitement of being in a beautiful new place, the sun and the gentle rocking of the boat nearly managed to put me to sleep several times.

Canal views

Fancy ship out in one of the canals

I had just enough time after the canal tour to check out the first of several castles I planned to visit on this trip. Christiansborg was nice and close, so I did a tour of the fancy Royal Reception Rooms and the Royal Kitchens. I’d like to go back in the next couple of days to see the Royal Stables, but they weren’t open when I was there on Friday for some reason. I’ve seen lots of horses in my time, but I’ve never seen Royal horses. Time to remedy that.

Christiansborg

One of the Queen's tapestries at Christiansborg

Christiansborg Dining Hall. Apparently they have way more
friends than I do.

I call shotgun.

Creepy thing on a motion sensor, scared the living

daylights out of me in the castle kitchens.

I had plans for dinner to meet with the sister (Liz) of one of my closest high school pals (Cassie). Liz and her husband Tom are now living in Copenhagen with their young son, Martin. They had sweetly invited me over to their place for dinner, which meant I had to find my way there. The first bus I took started to bring me in the complete opposite direction from where I needed to go. It only took me about three stops to realize that it was going the wrong way though, so I’m calling it a win. I did have to call Liz and verify the correct bus route so I didn’t make another error. I made it to their apartment only 20 minutes late and we had a delicious dinner and great evening of conversation, and playing with sweet little Martin. It was very cool to get their perspective on their recent move to Denmark and how it has gone as they have been adapting to living in a different country.

This entry is already far too long, so I won’t add today’s events quite yet. That will have to wait another day or two. Spoiler alert, I saw more castles.

I've Already Got a Sunburn

Surprise, surprise, I’m heading back to Iceland for a big chunk of my summer vacation. For anyone that’s read my blog before, you’re likely not shocked. I’m sort of a one trick pony when it comes to international destinations. 

Well, jokes on you, fools. I’ll have you know I'm also going to Denmark this year. I’ve been playing the long game, making everyone think I’ll only write about Iceland. You were all wrong. I’ll also write about visiting a country that once ruled...Iceland. Okay, there’s a connection or two. But it is currently a separate country. And I'm going there tomorrow.

First, my annual uncomfortable overnight flight recap. This flight from Minneapolis to Keflavik (on Delta, not Icelandair) didn’t leave until 10:15PM, so optimist that I am, I planned to sleep on the plane and wake up in Iceland refreshed and ready for the day. I boarded the plane, strapped on my eye mask and neck pillow, and leaned against the window, taking calming, meditative breaths, and trying to think what I hoped were sleep inducing thoughts. 

Leaving Minneapolis Tuesday night

Of course, the moment I attempted to do this my brain became a three ringed circus of bizarre and unhelpful ideas. Did I unplug my straightener? Yes, definitely. If not, there’s certainly nothing I can do about it now. I’m too short for the airplane headrest support flappies to do any good. Who designs these things? How did that person get a job like designing airline seats? Did I visit the Tampa aquarium on my trip to Florida in 2009 or 2013? My feet are cold. My feet are tangled in my backpack straps. Cross my legs. Uncross my legs. Startle out of my daze when a lady across the aisle laughs loudly. Shut up, you.

While my thoughts and some of my neighbors are loud, my world stays dark thanks to my eye mask, and so I miraculously manage to doze for several uncomfortable hours, slipping in and out of strange dreams as I regularly reposition myself in my tiny seat. I awaken and after several minutes of trying to coax myself back into sleep, give up and tug my eye mask down. 

BLINDING LIGHT!

What asshole has their overhead light aimed directly at my eyeballs? I quickly pull the mask back over my offended eyes and try to gather my sleep addled wits. When I fell asleep it was pitch black outside the airplane windows. Now, as I peek past the borders of the mask with squinty, untrusting eyes, I realize the offender is The Sun, not an inconsiderate seat mate wielding the power of a miniature 60 watt. 

Oh. Okay then. 24 hour day light, I have returned to thee. Sorry about slamming the door in your figurative face. You just caught me a little off guard.

"Way up up higher."

I’m wide awake at that point and start looking around for the promised gourmet airline breakfast. Delta does a nice job of keeping their customers fed and watered on longer flights, and I was looking forward to my turkey and cheese breakfast croissant. I try to distract myself with the views outside my window. The sunny cloud tops are lovely, but too thick to allow us to see Greenland as we fly over. Still waiting on that breakfast. The flight attendants had passed out Cheez-its to everyone earlier in the flight. Cheez-its, the most pungently cheesy of all snack crackers. Someone in the snack choosing department at Delta has a sick sense of humor. The smell lingers on the breaths of everyone around me. I pray the breakfast comes with an amuse-bouche of tic tacs, or that the attendants make a pass through the cabin with some Febreeze after the mass cracker consumption. The smell is making me cranky. The flight attendants arrive with their carts of breakfast trays just as I'm starting to feel the onslaught of real hangriness, and I happily gobble down my meal. Much longer and this blog post may have gone down a much darker path. 

I took the Fly Bus at the airport to the main bus station, BSI in Reykjavik, where I was met by my good pals Erin and Guðjón, who scooped up me and my luggage and brought me back to their place. I'm spending just one night here before I go right back to the airport and head to Copenhagen tomorrow. I spent an unusually warm and sunny day walking around Seltjarnarnes and downtown Reykjavik, just please to be back in one of my favorite places. If today is any measure, it is going to be a lovely summer.

Sunny walk toward Grotta 

The Long Ride into the Valley

On the scale of Good Days, if 100 is the greatest, today was easily a 110. Maybe even 115. For the last several weeks, Lena and I have been "training" ourselves and our horses for The Long Ride into the Valley. We have gone on many evening rides when the weather was fit, and even some when it wasn't so wonderful outside. The rides, heading out from Vatn and going either South toward Hofsos or North toward the unknown would last anywhere between one and three hours and always included a good mix of leisurely walking and brisk tölting, and depending on the path, a good gallop or pace for a short while. I can't put into words how cool it is to be able to walk out my door and saddle up my horse and go for a ride. Any hour of the day or night I can look out the window and see the horses there in the yard. It's a dream come true.

Check out this video for information on the 5 gaits of the Icelandic Horse. It is really beautiful.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RV9P0w8vZi8 

All these rides were amazing unto themselves, but were ultimately preparing us for today (cue Rocky theme song)... Our full day ride into a nearby (mostly) uninhabited valley. The weather was perfect, which was a great change from the past few rainy and cold days. The forecast for today was actually correct and we were able to stick to our plan to ride. The sky was clear and the day was hot (for Iceland, at least). By the time we were 5 minutes into the ride I was wishing I had left my jacket behind, and within an hour I was wearing it tied around my waist like a Disneyland tourist.

Before we go any further, I should introduce you to the stars of the show. Below is a photo of Lysa (the blonde) and Björgun, aka "Una (the brunette). Una is my usual partner, and Lena usually rides Lysa, but today we traded steeds about 1/3 of the way through and Lysa and I got to spend the afternoon together.

Una and Lysa, our mighty steeds

Max came with us on this adventure

The horses, especially Una, were sweating and breathing heavily before long. They are more accustomed to chilly weather, and this was a very warm day for them. We took it easy on the way in, not pushing too hard or going to fast. We had a long day ahead. We took several breaks throughout the day, letting the horses rest and snack on the sweet mountain grass, and having plenty of snacks ourselves. 

Break #1

I shared my pizza bun with Max. If we weren't best friends before, we sure are now.

We met some other horses way back in the valley but they stayed on their side of the river.

We forded several rivers, tried to fight our way through an Icelandic forest (we ended up going around it), and slogged through swampy marshes. We soaked up the sunshine as we tölted down tiny sheep paths, and it was hard to keep the smile off my face, even if that meant swallowing a few of the annoying gnats and flies that swarmed the sweaty horses.

Lena is currently working on her Master's degree in Forestry. Here she is in an Icelandic Forest.

Lysa is suspicious of Lena's forest hijinks

Another break. It was only this peaceful for about 5 seconds. Then the rolling started and all heck broke loose.

Boop

Lunch time 

All day, Max ran and jumped and hopped like a rabbit through the tall grass, ahead and behind and all around us. He chased after birds and sniffed everything there was to sniff along the route. This is a dog that spends the entirety of most days racing (not chasing) the cars that pass by his farm. He has literally worn a trench in the grass along the fence in his front yard from all of his racing back and forth. He loves nothing more than to run and chase things. Birds seem to be his first love, but cars are a close second. He will also chase butterflies, and the occasional bee, but I strongly discourage the latter.

Actually tired, for once.

Max looks dead here, but he was just dead tired. 

On our breaks today, Max would actually sit and rest with us. On our longest break, when we were all feeling tired and sore, Max flopped down and actually napped (for about 10 minutes). This is something I've never seen before, so I know it was a successful day. We actually tired him out.

The valley

As usual, I wanted to bottle the smell of the mountain grasses and the clean, fresh air today. We were alone in the valley, save for a few sheep and horses who were out grazing, enjoying their summer vacation, and it felt as if we had left the real world far behind. There was only the sound of the river rushing and babbling in turns, or the occasional distant roar of a little waterfall as we passed by its feet.

Today I was extra aware of how lucky I am to get to spend so much time in Iceland, and to get to go on amazing adventures such as this. I am so grateful to the people I have met here that make this possible, and for each and every day I get to spend in this amazing place. 

Here I am pointing at something very important. Note the oh so stylish jacket around the waist look.

 We returned tired and sweaty back to Vatn around 6:15. We had been out for around 7 hours, and I'm guessing I will be feeling each and every one of those seven hours tomorrow. The horses were so happy to roll around in the grass upon our return, thrilled to have their saddles and bridles removed completely so they could scratch their itchy backs. They've now have been standing sleepily in their paddock for hours, heads down, eyes closed, too tired even to send pathetic "feed me, I'm starving" looks into the kitchen window at me when I look outside. No worries though, they'll have plenty of time to rest before our next excursion.