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sixbillionstars · 6 years

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Before Game of Thrones and the newest Star Wars films, flights to Iceland only left from Denver, Washington DC, Baltimore, or New York. When I learned that the voyage embarks from Port of Hamburg, I figured I’d be flying into Berlin. And after years of watching closely for new United States destinations between the two main Icelandic airlines, this made my heart sing knowing full well St. Louis had recently become a Wow Air destination with cheap flights to many European cities, and of course... stopovers in Iceland on the way.

I won’t go much into how long I had anticipated this experience, however I will say it was a painful wait. First it was celebrities one by one slowly making their way as it grew appealing to more and more travelers suddenly during my freshman year of college and onward. Then it was friends who happened to have stopovers, who could afford it before me, or who were nearer to new departure cities before me... In those ways it was thrilling to feel inches and inches closer all these years. I even had a whole trip planned once to visit Iceland by myself to celebrate the New Year and hang out a week before and after. For a plethora of important reasons I had to cancel that trip, which to this day I still stand behind. So sadly, the most suitable and affordable window of time I had to work with to be in Iceland this time around was twenty hours, since it was a stopover, but a solid twenty hours we spent. An old friend used to joke all the time, “what if you go and absolutely hate it?” which was a possibility I have weighed heavily, even after countless hours over the years reading entire wikipedia pages of tiny, unpronounceable coastal villages with their black sands and fjords, delving into Vimeo videos of Icelandic scenery, and my favorite, the man in a lopapeysa sweater teaching you how to knit. I knew damn well I’d have to come back after such a short time even if it did turn out not so ideal. But after a seven year wait, I am happy to announce that it truly was everything I could have hoped for and even so much more. Maybe because I already knew where to look, or at least where I wanted to look, or maybe it really was calling me all this time.

I was taught a German expression today "Knapp daneben ist auch vorbei” which means, “coming close is the same as missing it.” It’s been circling my mind like an echo of congratulations from the void for just finally being able to do the damn thing.

It is now late into Thursday, our second day in Berlin. Yesterday was spent locating our Airbnb, experiencing jetlag, showering, etc... completely pretty much rebirthing ourselves after twenty hours with none of the checked luggage I truly thought the Keflavik airport would let me access during that amount of time.

I can’t exit this post though without telling a couple of the stories from those hours (and some pictures!) It was by far the most eventful twenty hours of my life...

As soon as we landed, it was time to grab the rental car. I picked out a lovely whatever the car was. At first the reservation said manual shift, which was exciting because I learned to drive on a manual but also I knew the Icelandic roads would be more vulnerable to drivers so I wasn’t sure how revisiting a skill like that there would go. Luckily we ended up with an automatic somehow anyway. Since the Wow air flights are so cheap, they get off by charging passengers for every other thing including meals, so I had not eaten since Missouri by this point (mainly because I wanted to sleep). I felt weak and tired at the rental counter so I asked my friend Alicia to get me something at the cafe nearby. She came back with the first food we were to behold: a caprese panini, but instead of panini bread, it was the body of Christ or something. I apologize to anyone that offends--I mean it in the sense that it was cracker bread meant specifically for religious purposes and not to feed a malnourished traveler. Don’t get me wrong, it tasted good, however the depth of my ketosis and the richness of the pesto was too much. Literally as I stood at the counter facing my first ever Icelandic stranger and transaction, I felt the sudden urge to vomit and ran to the nearest trashcan while Alicia had to sign everything for me in a VERY crowded airport. I don’t think any of us knew how to react honestly, though the woman at the counter was very sweet and brought us bottled waters after seeing my pale sweaty face, despite not totally knowing how to ask if I was okay in English.

Getting to Þingvellir was not an issue, however the drive there involved more of the previous situation sadly. While the girls caught up on sleep, I found our way out of Keflavik onto the highway and quickly back off of it after having tried a couple more bites of the Jesus panini. The first time around I wasn’t entirely sure if it was that was what made me ill or just all of the conditions at once. This time I knew it was that. There was nowhere to even pull over as all of the road space in Iceland is very carefully planned, with roundabouts every few blocks and signs placed not too often or too scarcely. So I stopped in the middle of the road out of sheer desperation -- one of the few very crucial things I had JUST been told you’re not supposed to do with an Icelandic car. I had already begun out the window as I drove simply because my mind was already racing for options. What is the best way here - puking on myself and cleaning that up? No - my luggage I thought I could have today is on its way to Germany. Puking solely into the car? Hell to the no - I don’t care if I bought the insurance, we have the whole route ahead of us and back. Okay well in the time it took to ask myself those questions, all of the above happened anyway. Everywhere. Alicia and Morgan immediately woke up of course and without judgment scrambled into their things for a new shirt and pants for me, helped me clean the car, et cetera, alllllll while locals were angrily and confusedly passing me on this tiny exit I had chosen under the impression it was low-trafficked. Did I mention I chose not to wear underwear on this day of all days? Yes. In my first hour in Iceland I was forced to change BUTT NAKED pretty much on the side of the highway. Needless to say, we threw the Jesus panini away as if it was the one ring to rule them all.

Þingvellir was breathtaking. Every little plant, moss, lichen, dewdrop was so quietly and calmly welcoming. The wall of boxy-looking rocks you may have seen in Games of Thrones was to the left of this photo, with its waterfalls and all. It was confusing finding the dive spot where our snorkel tour was, but once we arrived all of our sorrows were gone. First we met Luis, a cheery Mexican from Cancun, then Manuel the French man who helped us into our dry suits, and then Juan from Madrid was our guide through the crevice of the opening between the Eurasian and North American tectonic plates.

The moment I entered the water my heartbeat changed for good, not just because of the chilling 2*C temperature, but because it was then I realized I was really, really there. Until that moment, it was all a dream. Simply putting my mask down to see what was below... I still cannot find the words. Our suits were designed to keep us warm, so the crystal clear stream swept us and this rad Australian couple in our group gently along the divide as if it were a lazy river. Silfra is the only spot on Earth where one can touch two plates at once, and I cannot emphasize enough that the land itself gives you that vibe alone, whether you do the tours or not. For as long as I live I don’t think I could forget how it felt to lay completely still on top of the water looking down, like just another little seagull feather or algae, feeling one with the whole damn country.

Finally.

After a pit stop at a petrol station for edible food and something to make the car smell better, we rerouted from planning a drive all the way to Vik (3.5 hrs there and back) to just spending the time comfortably in Reykjavik where we could get back to the airport by 3am, when the rental was due, and for our flight at 6am.

Downtown was as quaint and beautiful as I had imagined, though of course a completely different layout than what I originally pictured. This happened in New Mexico too when I moved there after a year of picturing the places where my friends’ stories from their phone calls were playing out. We found a cute bar to meet locals in called the Smokin’ Puffin, which turned out to have just opened three weeks prior. Made many friends, including Moe the bartender/plant geneticist from Iran, and Joanne, a bubbly expat from the UK.

Hallgrimskirkja and the walk to it however was the crowning jewel of the evening, with apartment windows all open, most of them displaying cute decorations and cats and succulents of all colors and sizes peering out.

I knew it was a rather large church, I suppose I was not prepared for just how large. Walking past the infamous Leifur Eriksson statue to approach the entrance with its tiered architecture and powerfully rhetorical lighting, I lost my breath again. It was a bittersweet goodbye, though I am nearly grateful we did not stay overnight so I couldn’t get too attached to Iceland’s physical presence.

Was honestly just taking a photo of this sweet cat, and realized its owner was behind him drawing. I almost cried.

Moe’s specialty cocktail: coffee martini :)

Me in my very attractive after-puke outfit with this handsome Iranian plant geneticist bartender who was really sweet to me anyway.

#iceland

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