Iceland — i/ˈaɪslənd/

Iceland, Nice-land

{Caveat Emptor: the following write-up was for an entry towards a trip to Iceland. But I didn’t want all of it to end up in the depths of an automated computer drawing system. So it’s here now too. Cheers.}

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I often dream about Iceland. Daydreaming, in my sleep, or just drifting away through past photographs again.

Last January, I bought a one-way ticket to begin a rigorous, exciting new chapter in my life, studying abroad in Barcelona, Spain. With a thorough list of travel wishes, I wasn’t quite sure when and if I’d want to return to Canada following my studies, but the one thing that was certain was that Iceland was nowhere on this list.

The first 5 months of my exchange passed gracefully and memorably every step of the way. Every so often, I took weekend trips to places nearby. But come June, I was heading full-fledged into wanderlust mode, and determined to explore every single nook and cranny I had ever desired in Europe. As soon as I had known it, my Visa expiration date was approaching and it was time to purchase my return ticket to the homeland.

My father has always been a logical man, so it came with some shock when he suggested I fly with Iceland Air. Reyk-ja-vik? Why would I ever choose to stopover in a city I can’t even pronounce, and freezing cold after all the time I spent in the Spanish sun? Well, I agreed to the generous ticket price, and the ability to stopover for up to 7 days without surcharge is always enticing.

August came, and so did the goodbyes. I first arrived to Spain alone, but every step of the way was with others. Going to Iceland alone would be a tremendous move backwards, and of course I headed there cluelessly, without having built an itinerary either.

I landed to a considerably bright 3 A.M. in Reykjavik, and as much sleep as my mind and body had lacked from the journey, my eyes wouldn’t dare shut as my bus drove deep into the city.

Kex Hostel, would be my humble abode for the next few days — “hostel” being an absolute understatement. This establishment is beautiful, live with endless detail in its rustic yet modern decor, warm-hearted and ever-smiling staff, endless tummy-pleasing breakfast buffets and raw, soul-touching live music performances… still curious as to whether they take any permanent residents.

Would I regret waking up the morning after? A stranger to the others in my room — and likely the only person travelling alone? I proved myself wrong, as the first person to wake up across from me was another solo traveller, a neighbour to me from Montreal, Quebec.

Alexandra and I naturally teamed up for the rest of our stay and decided to embark on a few adventures: the Golden Circle, Horseback Riding, and the Blue Lagoon. Of course, in between all the expeditions we made sure to dive into the various cuisines Reykjavik had to offer, and scour around for the best authentic Icelandic wool sweaters in town.

This place was a photographer’s paradise. No, this land was a human’s paradise. The only way to describe what I had seen was that it had defied what one would ever think is geologically possible. The Roman Coliseum, Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia, the Eiffel Tower — these were all magnificent works of art by geniuses of our century. However, the geysirs, the waterfalls, the hot springs, the boulders and beaches, the volcanic rocks, the god-like skies, and the magical Blue Lagoon. Well, these were only capable of being built by the one and only Mother Nature herself.

Walking around, feeling completely safe at 12 A.M. with rosy pink skies blushing down on me was new to me. The anticipation of when the geysir would decide to awake… and whether my camera would catch it. The spirit of the elves and giants that surrounded us. The horses, galloping alongside our bus as it winded down the lonely road.

I visited Montréal a few weeks ago, and scheduled a small reunion with my former travel-mate Alexandra to re-share all of our Icelandic stories. It has been one year since my first visit, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. The only place that could somewhat replicate our experience is in my sleep, so until I’m back there I’ll continue to lay my head down and do so.

Everyone deserves to visit Iceland, but contrary to the whole purpose of this post… a selfish part of me will always wish for it to be my secret little iśland.

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