Land of Fire and Ice (Iceland)

Iceland – Reykjavik ~2018

Life can move in very strange ways, and sometimes has a sense of weird irony that isn’t always immediately clear. Case in point, just a couple of weeks ago I was traipsing around Iceland (the budget frozen goods store) in a typical slovenly fashion, wearing scruffy sweatpants and a grim look like most of the shop’s inhabitants – my happiness levels raised only momentarily by the occasional must-buy purchase; cheesy garlic breads £1, double chocolate ice cream £1.50, enormous multi-pack of crisps £2. Time machine it to a few days ago and I am stood in actual Iceland, wearing no scruffy sweatpants (yes, I was wearing clothes, I’m not a maniac), marvelling at the natural beauty of the landscape and soaking in the living and breathing personality that this wonderful part of the world expresses.

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Not to ruin the picture I’ve just painted or anything…but I was also super pissed at how expensive actual Iceland is compared to frozen chicken nuggets Iceland. £10 for one diddy bottle of beer whut whuttt?! You could buy a whole deep-fried farm for that!

Iceland, the fabled “Land of Ice and Fire”, could not be more appropriately named…and it has to be said right off the bat that I give absolute props to any of the (just over) 300,000 people that despite all logic and common sense have decided to look pulsing volcanoes, feet upon feet of snow, regular sandstorms and much more not so fun stuff in the face and state, “I’m still staying. Fuck you.” After all, we all know the kind of effect that weather can have on people mentally, not to mention the physical obstacles of lava melting your toes.

*Insert moment of silence for all the lava toes lost out there*

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It seems that people in general are just as impressed and curious as we were beforehand: Reykjavik, which comprises the majority of Iceland’s population and trade, has been flourishing in recent years, with record numbers now visiting to see what all of the fuss is about. A record 1.73 million in 2016, up 34% from the previous year. These tourists probably come for the Blue Lagoon and the Northern Lights, sure, but I would hope they stay for the breathtaking fjords and the rainbows that dance precariously across waterfalls, for the fresh clean air and the naturally heated pools, for the 100% renewable electricity and tap water straight from a glacier…and then…when all of these incredible features have them stumped as to how they’ll ever return to ordinary cosmopolitan life…leave. Because how can any normal person afford to keep spending so much on soup and bread?

In all seriousness returning to ordinary life after adventuring around such a majestic part of the globe, has had be down in the dumps in a major way. I’ll probably try to cure this feeling by revisiting Iceland at some point…for some cheesy garlic breads, double chocolate ice cream, and an enormous multi-pack of crisps.

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The magic of Iceland, a place in which apparently a large percentage of the populous believe in trolls and elves, continues to play on my mind. There is a sense of unknown in such a place, an unreliability that doesn’t often accompany life in towns and cities – save petty drama at work, or news that someone you thought was great in a movie turns out to actually be a bit of a nightmare. There’s a freedom in not having the shackles of corporate life weighing quite so heavily on your conscience – because things like staying alive take precedent (big shout out to my fiancée for navigating many a snow storm and sheer drop on the road in a car the size of a cereal box).

Iceland = two big frosty thumbs up from me – just make sure you pack your thermals and remortgage your house to have enough cash to get a round of beers in.

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