How to Increase Your Understanding of Setting When You Travel, Part 2

The customs agent said, “Welcome to Europe, Mr. Blocker.”

I smiled as I had always expected to visit Europe many years before that moment, yet I was happy to have finally arrived.

As I proceeded through the airport, it seemed much like any other airport in the U.S.—especially when I saw a display of Doritos in a duty-free store near baggage claim.

After collecting our bags, we saw crowds of tourists in line for VAT refunds, currency exchange, and coffee at Joe and the Juice. 2Fs and I decided to grab a coffee after our overnight flight from the States while we waited for our Canadian friends to pick us up. The first wakeup call that I was no longer back home is when the barista advised me that my total was 1440 króna. This news sent me into momentary shock until I realized that one ISK is the equivalent of $0.0080 USD. Fortunately, Icelanders Icelanders prefer using debit and credit cards, so I wouldn’t have a problem using my credit cards and experience the headache of trying to pay with the Icelandic currency.

Outside, the temperature was at least thirty degrees cooler than Atlanta; however, even with the light rain and blustery winds, the weather was not cold.

When our Canadian friends, Kim and Jeffrey, arrived, Kim said, “You have to hold onto the door of the SUV at all times, or else the wind may catch it and damage the vehicle.” Jeff and I listened to Jeffrey and Kim explain the shocking differences between automotive insurance in North America compared to Iceland’s extreme weather.

Once we were on the road, we drove through Reykjavik and headed south toward Thingvellir National Park. With its gray skies, stark lava fields, and vegetation in muted colors, Iceland posses an exotic beauty that grabs the attention. No billboards line highways, and litter is unheard of along the sides of the road.

Even though it was only late September, autumn had already appeared in reds and golds in Iceland. After speaking with a few locals, they told us that we had planned our visit at the right time because not every fall was as beautiful as this one.

At Thingvellir National Park, we stopped into a gift shop to pick up sandwiches and drinks before exploring the park. Reading the ingredients on the sandwiches revealed brie and eggs on top of a variety of meats. I looked up one undecipherable word to discover it meant ham.

The smell of sulfur greeted us at Geysir Hot Spring Area, which added to the strangeness of Iceland. It brought back memories of visiting Yellow Stone National Park as a child. In the gift shop, we ordered coffees, and I asked the barista to recommend a traditional Icelandic Skyr. Although not particularly warm, no pun intended, I found Icelanders to go out of their way to help others. Our barista was kind enough to fetch a piece of Skyr Cake from the back for us. Skyr is similar to Greek yogurt but has a milder flavor. The cake reminded me of a mostly frozen cake topped with Cool Whip that is popular at summer potlucks.

On our way to our AirB&B, we stopped at a local mom-and-pop restaurant. Most restaurants will offer lamb and fish on their menus like beef, chicken, and pork in the States. We found Icelandic food to be blander than we anticipated. Although they do not season their food as much as we do, the ingredients were always fresh and of high quality. Coca-Cola is extremely popular with Icelanders, although Pepsi can be found in places. If you order a soft drink, you’ll receive a bottle instead of an all-you-can-drink fountain drink. When dining out in Iceland, it’s best to understand beforehand that food is twice the price of what it would be in North America.

Upon waking up at our AirB&B the next morning, Jeff and I went for a walk and took in the pastoral setting. Moody clouds rolled across a big sky as I’d only seen back home in Texas. Down the road, we saw a quaint church with a cemetery. Dandelions seem to grow much more prominent than in North America. As we were inspecting one, a feline welcome wagon of one introduced himself by rubbing against our legs. In the distance, we watched Icelandic horses run through a pasture. They reminded of our horses, but they were smaller, and their manes reminded me of Tina Turner’s wig.

As we continued our journey along the southern coast, we quickly learned that Iceland offers many waterfalls. My favorite is the one in the photo at the top of this post. Unlike the bigger waterfalls more popular with tourists, this one was only accessible via a short hike. At one point, the four of us just stood there, taking in the natural splendor. I felt so grateful to be able to travel. I now understood how Iceland natural wonders and folklore captured J. R. R. Tolkien’s imagination and inspired The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.

In addition to waterfalls, Iceland has an abundance of sheep. In fact, there are more sheep than people. They graze in the fields along the side of the road and also can be seen seemingly defying gravity high atop mountains.
Driving down the road, one sees houses and farms at the bottom of mountains and volcanoes, often with melted glacier water cascading off the side into a pool below. The countryside is cragged lava rock from previous eruptions covered with light- and dark-green lichen.

We often stop at N1 gas stations along the way to refuel our SUV with diesel and ourselves with food on the way to our next destination. In doing so, we learn that hot dogs are a big deal in Iceland, putting their own twist on the American dog by adding roasted onions and remoulade to the traditional chopped white onions, ketchup, and mustard. I try several different candy bars and discover most consist of a rice crisp covered in chocolate. Outside the U.S., Hershey and Nestle seem unknown; Cadbury is king.

On our way to our next AirB&B, an old milk factory converted into an upscale hostel, we explore black-pebble beaches with sneaker waves that sweep unsuspecting tourists out to sea and sudden death. Umbrellas are useless in Iceland because the strong winds blow the rain sideways. The damp chills to the bone, although it doesn’t seem code. The gray sky appears as the perfect complement to the austere lava rock.

The next day, we visit an ice cave on the edge of a glacier. We had planned to go to a different ice cave; however, temperatures have been rising in Iceland, and the ice cave is gone. Judging from the condition of the cave we visit, it will most likely disappear, as well. Our guide frequently ends his commentary about life in Iceland with “You know, it is what it is.” Perhaps what I initially took to be a lack of warmth is simply the resignation of living in a land with frequent rain, harsh winds, and anticipation of a volcanic eruption. Icelanders recently held a funeral for one of their ancient glaciers that vanished. You know, it is what it is.

A few days later, as we tour the western peninsula, Jeff informs me we’ll be visiting the black church. How odd, I think, that there would be an African American church in Iceland. The language, based on Old Norse, has changed little in a thousand years. A Brit living abroad tells me that the language states things precisely as they are. When we arrive in Budir, I discover that the black church is only a church similar to the other white Lutheran churches we’ve passed in travels except this one is painted black.
Along the northern coast of the peninsula, we stop to visit Kirkjufell, which is featured in the television show Game of Thrones as the Arrowhead mountain. I’ve never seen the show, so this means nothing to me. What I see s just another breathtaking natural wonder. How do Icelanders live with such mundane beauty on a day-to-day basis? The tidal pool rises and covers our path back to the SUV, so we wander up the hill in the light rain to visit yet another waterfall. As tourists take selfies, a young man in board shorts treads across the top of one of the lower falls. At first, I think he might be a model and his companion a photographer, but the young man suddenly hurls himself backward off the edge of the rock and plunges in the frigid water below. All of us look at one another to confirm whether we all saw it. The young man swims to shore, removes his wet board shorts, and then puts on layer after layer of warm clothes. Is he an Icelander? An American would be too modest, wouldn’t he?

After stopping in a fishing village for dinner, we drive toward Reykjavik in the darkness. We have traveled outside the city for five days. I wonder what life will be like in the city. Over the past week, as I have taken photographs with my new camera, I’ve begun to create characters with backstories and weave together a plot that binds them all with the details I’ve learned about Iceland. Like this country, my story is dark and moody with stark savagery and sheep—lots and lots of sheep. After a few days, these characters feel real to me because I have traveled through their world, seeing what they see, hearing what they hear, smelling what they smell, tasting what they taste, and feeling what they feel.

“I can see them!” Jeff cries. We pull over to the side of the road and climb out of the warmth of the SUV. After a week of gray skies and rain, we had little hope of seeing the Northern Lights, but as we pull our coats tighter to protect ourselves from the cold winds and gaze up into the sky, we shimmering green and pink lights dance above us. Our loud excitement quiets into awe as we watch the aurora borealis. It grows brighter, dims, and then disappears before reappearing again. I feel myself grinning like a child experiencing fireflies in his backyard on a summer night for the first time. What would it be like to live with all of this natural wonder all the time? What would an Icelander visiting Atlanta for the first time find remarkable about my home? Sweet tea? Boiled peanuts? A pecan log from Stuckey’s?

After reading the details about my trip to places outside of Reykjavik, what characters and stories come to mind for you?