An Elementary Understanding of Reykjavik

The paradox of a childhood project and an adulthood trip

“Pick a country,” my fourth-grade teacher urged. “Whatever country you pick will be the basis for your class project.”

Immediately my thoughts drifted to the countries of my ancestors- Ireland, Scotland, the Czech Republic, Germany.

“Boring,” I thought. I have been to two of these beautiful nations and mean no offense. But as a nine-year-old with a major project ahead, I wanted something unique, something that would intrigue my fellow students and maybe help them see me as more than the shy, boring girl who sat silently in class.

At this time, my understanding of geography was lackluster, and unfortunately, with our social studies texts, if it wasn’t a country in North America or Europe, it was likely off my radar (thank you, American education system). Yet I recalled a conversation with my father, who one day asked, “Did you know that Greenland is icy and Iceland is green?” I was intrigued by the paradox and proudly declared to my teacher, “I pick Iceland!”

Granted, I hadn’t fully thought through this plan. There was a component of history, foundation, and local cuisine. I could have made this project (and my life) much easier with a less obscure choice. In the 1990s, at least in my small suburban hometown, Iceland did not provoke the same awe and wonder as Italy or France. This was pre-Instagram, pre-Pinterest, and primarily elicited a simultaneous response of “what’s in Iceland?”

Regardless, I forged ahead. I read about the Nordic settlers in the 8th century, the contributions of Leif Erikkson, the Icelandic explorer (believed to predate Christopher Columbus in the discovery of America), the towering Hallgrímskirkja church, and the vast terrain of volcanoes, hot springs, and waterfalls in this tiny nation. The encyclopedias (yes, I’m that old) provided insight into the colorful Reykjavik houses and the lives of the early settlers.

The most complicated component of the project was the food. Icelandic cookbooks at my local public library proved scarce. All of these years later, I cannot accurately recall the cuisine that I shared with the class, but I do know that it was some kind of dish with applesauce. It felt quite underwhelming next to the Colombian empanadas and the Greek gyros, but at this point, I was committed.

I don’t remember much about the actual presentation itself. I’m sure the whole “Iceland is green” thing piqued the interest of a few classmates, but I also recall a mild confusion when the presented food was a funny-looking applesauce.

Anyway.

Almost two decades later, I found myself perusing Groupon. Everyone is shocked when I disclose the amazing deals that I find on Groupon trips. The same barrage of questions: “Is it legitimate? Do the hotels suck? What’s the catch?” Scrolling down the list, I saw a 5-day trip to Iceland with a gorgeous stock photo of the northern lights and a reasonable price to match. I immediately texted my best friend.

“You in?” I asked. “You bet,” she replied.

On an unseasonably warm October day in 2016, I arrived at the airport. I have a propensity to travel as cheaply as possible. At times, this includes foregoing a checked bag or choosing a budget airline. My best friend was slated to meet me in Newark from Chicago. Despite my well-rehearsed “Iceland is green” line, I knew that Iceland would still be much cooler than my Midwestern hometown.

So, being cheap but also still wanting to pack for the weather, I wore multiple layers of clothes on the airplane, including a heavy-duty pair of Sorel boots. By the time my Uber arrived at the airport and I went through the scanner, it lit up like a Christmas tree. My multitude of layers caused immense sweating that looked oddly suspicious on the security scanner. Fortunately, they let me through to my gate, but this then required some additional configuration before boarding the airplane.

My best friend and I found each other at Newark, and over coffee and laughter, we reviewed our upcoming itinerary. We would have the evening free after arrival, would take a city tour the following day, a side trip to the Golden Circle the next, a leisurely trip to the Blue Lagoon, and— if all went as planned— seeing the northern lights.

We arrived at our Reykjavik hotel, travel-weary and ready to crash. We took one look at the beds, two tiny twins smushed together. “Oh well, this will do,” we quipped. We marveled at how small everything was compared to American standards— short doors, tiny bathrooms, and these combined twin beds. We had spent two full weeks together in the UK and felt quite prepared for this cramped space.

The next day, we took a hop-on-hop-off tour of Reykjavik. It was chilly, with a drizzly, steady rain. We saw the brightly hued houses, the towering buildings, and the mountains off in the distance. We observed the quaint downtown with rows of shops and restaurants, and took note of where we hoped to return. The food looked delicious, but unfortunately, on a shoestring budget, soup in bread bowls became a near-daily staple; regardless, it was delicious.

The following day, we visited the Golden Circle. We made a brief stop at Friðheimar greenhouses and had tomato soup. We went to Gullfoss Falls, a powerful waterfall torrent in the Golden Circle; Thingvellir National Park, and the Geyser geothermal area consisting of natural geysers. We hoped for a journey in the evening to see the northern lights, but the cloud cover was too extensive.

On the fourth day, we went to the Blue Lagoon. Although somewhat busy, it was as decadent and luxurious as Instagram would lead you to believe. We made natural clay face masks, bathed in the mineral and silica-rich waters, and sipped Prosecco with the steam swirling around our faces. We left with an overwhelming sense of rejuvenation. Once again, the northern lights eluded us behind a blanket of clouds and rain.

On the final morning, we decided to make a special trip to the top of the Hallgrímskirkja, the well-recognized Lutheran church in the center of Reykjavik, standing at a stunning 244 feet tall. I love seeing churches in other countries; the unique architecture, the undertone of reverence. Yet something about this church was also oddly reminiscent.

Seeing the building from the outside transported me back to the grainy encyclopedia photos before that fourth-grade project. Odes to discoverers’ past, including a prominent statue of Leif Eriksson in the front, felt like revisiting my awkward elementary school paper with curiosity and intrigue. It felt familiar and foreign simultaneously.

Throughout childhood, I would immerse myself in books, scanning every word and dwelling upon each picture. I would imagine how it could feel to transport to that space and time, whether in a hammock on the beach or a deep, remote jungle. When I would visit my grandparents’ house, I would sneak away an atlas, envisioning various life experiences if I were born in another time or another place.

Standing in front of Hallgrímskirkja, all of those moments tucked away in an armchair, absorbed in books, came rushing back. Imagining how life would appear on this curious island, a place of intrigue and paradox. I never anticipated that I would see Reykjavik in person. Standing in the drizzle of rain, wrapped tightly in my coat, I soaked in the splendor of the city.

A double rainbow stretched in radiant bands of color across the sky. A bright sun cut through sparse drops of rain, emanating a diamond-like flash of hues. There was a low undercurrent of disappointment for missing the northern lights, but a sudden awe and appreciation for this unexpected spectacle. Adulthood me gently nudged my inquisitive inner child, and I wished that I could hold her hand and provide a word of encouragement.

You feel uncertain, insecure, and question the future. Life will have ups and downs, it won’t always be easy. It won’t always look how you want, and at times it will appear much different from what you hope for or anticipate.

But you won’t always be looking at the world from behind an encyclopedia. One day, you will stand on this ground, in the flesh, taking in the sights and sounds of Reykjavik.

You will see the majesty of Hallgrímskirkja up close. You will stand in the footsteps of Leif Erikkson, an Icelandic pioneer. You will forego the applesauce dish and regrettably miss the northern lights, but you will soak in the Blue Lagoon drinking Prosecco with your best friend, and on the final day, you will witness a vibrant, breathtaking double rainbow. And you will be so, so grateful.