"The less people knew, the more marvellous the images of the unknown land became – if you had not seen it, you could dream it up yourself."
Before we left Copenhagen, Cody and I wandered dumbfounded through a museum exhibition depicting the reality of the arctic. We were mesmerized by the images of people fighting against the cold and frozen earth. We were introduced to the history of a part of the world that was as strange as any place we could imagine. We were a little fearful about the number of times Iceland was mentioned in the pictures of explorers who had fought against the land and lost. Nonetheless, we caught a glimpse of where we were headed and shook our heads in disbelief that we were going to spend some time in this part of the world. We left the museum with a lot of excitement mixed with some apprehension about our next stop. We left the museum with what explorers refer to as "white fever" or the undeniable urge to see it for yourself. Our day at the Museum of Modern Art was completely unforeseen, yet perfectly applicable to our final destination.
The day after our museum experience we jumped on another plane to fly the three-ish hours to Iceland to fulfill our new found desire to see this place that had been hanging from the walls hours before. Despite all of the anticipation, the plane ride was the first point of our trip when I started to feel a pull from home, a natural point in a trip (especially an international one) in which the idea of home seems more appealing than being thousands of miles away. The notion struck me as I was listening to the super drunk, non-English speaking guy across the row from me who was nearly screaming at the woman in the row in front of him. He smelt bad. He was gross looking. He used the bathroom no less than four times. And he grew louder and louder with each beer he ingested. It was obnoxious and annoying and suddenly made me feel like Fort Smith, Arkansas was a better alternative at that moment.
When we finally started our descent, I found myself feeling sort of over airplanes and hotel beds and weird food and foreign languages. I leaned over to complain to Cody (again) about Mr. Loud Talker when I caught a glimpse of the most startlingly magnificent snow-covered mountains perched directly over Cody's shoulder. It was like Iceland appeared out of nowhere. Suddenly we were flying over snow and water and jagged mountains blanketed by a setting 3p.m. sun. It was so weird and disorienting that everyone on the plane was craning to see what Cody and I realized was the first glimpse of the world depicted in a museum the day before.
Thinking back on our trip this experience flying over Iceland stands out as one of the coolest that we had. Iceland from above was as unfamiliar and extreme as the pictures at the museum. All of the articles I had read and pictures I had seen were no longer necessary for me to try to imagine what Iceland entails. It was happening. It was right below us. It was wild.
Logically, we were super pumped as we stepped off of the plane. However, our first few hours in Iceland were filled with a rapidly setting afternoon sun, an hour long wait for a rental car, and Cody pushing our Toyota Corolla station wagon off of a four foot snow mound in fifty mile per hour wind and snow.
Nevertheless, we had arrived.
Before we left Copenhagen, Cody and I wandered dumbfounded through a museum exhibition depicting the reality of the arctic. We were mesmerized by the images of people fighting against the cold and frozen earth. We were introduced to the history of a part of the world that was as strange as any place we could imagine. We were a little fearful about the number of times Iceland was mentioned in the pictures of explorers who had fought against the land and lost. Nonetheless, we caught a glimpse of where we were headed and shook our heads in disbelief that we were going to spend some time in this part of the world. We left the museum with a lot of excitement mixed with some apprehension about our next stop. We left the museum with what explorers refer to as "white fever" or the undeniable urge to see it for yourself. Our day at the Museum of Modern Art was completely unforeseen, yet perfectly applicable to our final destination.
The day after our museum experience we jumped on another plane to fly the three-ish hours to Iceland to fulfill our new found desire to see this place that had been hanging from the walls hours before. Despite all of the anticipation, the plane ride was the first point of our trip when I started to feel a pull from home, a natural point in a trip (especially an international one) in which the idea of home seems more appealing than being thousands of miles away. The notion struck me as I was listening to the super drunk, non-English speaking guy across the row from me who was nearly screaming at the woman in the row in front of him. He smelt bad. He was gross looking. He used the bathroom no less than four times. And he grew louder and louder with each beer he ingested. It was obnoxious and annoying and suddenly made me feel like Fort Smith, Arkansas was a better alternative at that moment.
When we finally started our descent, I found myself feeling sort of over airplanes and hotel beds and weird food and foreign languages. I leaned over to complain to Cody (again) about Mr. Loud Talker when I caught a glimpse of the most startlingly magnificent snow-covered mountains perched directly over Cody's shoulder. It was like Iceland appeared out of nowhere. Suddenly we were flying over snow and water and jagged mountains blanketed by a setting 3p.m. sun. It was so weird and disorienting that everyone on the plane was craning to see what Cody and I realized was the first glimpse of the world depicted in a museum the day before.
Thinking back on our trip this experience flying over Iceland stands out as one of the coolest that we had. Iceland from above was as unfamiliar and extreme as the pictures at the museum. All of the articles I had read and pictures I had seen were no longer necessary for me to try to imagine what Iceland entails. It was happening. It was right below us. It was wild.
Logically, we were super pumped as we stepped off of the plane. However, our first few hours in Iceland were filled with a rapidly setting afternoon sun, an hour long wait for a rental car, and Cody pushing our Toyota Corolla station wagon off of a four foot snow mound in fifty mile per hour wind and snow.
Nevertheless, we had arrived.
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