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.