The main thrust of this summer vacation is the "Nordic Obsession" tour that I booked - a tour of the Faroe Islands. Iceland was nothing more than an extremely scenic and exciting stopover on the way to an even more scenic and exciting destination.
It all started with the Faroe Islands Podcast, which has 200+ episodes relating to the Faroes. The person who runs the podcast decided to put together a small group for a tour of the islands, and that is how I ended up in an airport in Copenhagen, as we began to assemble our group of five Nordic-ally Obsessed people. The deal is a ten-day tour (Tour Itinerary), plus an optional add-on pass for the G! Festival, which I did opt for. So, here are some basic facts to get you going.
The Faroe Islands are an autonomous nation, part of the Kingdom of Denmark, consisting of an archipelago of eighteen islands populated by just under 50,000 people. The six "mainland" islands of Vágar, Streymoy, Eysturoy, Borðoy, Kunoy and Viðoy are connected by causeways or undersea tunnels. The other islands are reachable by ferry or helicopter. The islands of Sandoy and Suðuroy, to the south, and Nólsoy, just east of the capital, have significant populations. Each of the other islands -- Mykines, Kalsoy, Fugloy, Svínoy, Koltur, Hestur, Skúvoy and Stoŕa Dímun -- have less than 200 people each. Lítla Dímun is uninhabited by people (but it does have sheep).
Our base for the tour will be the diminutive capital city of Tórshavn, which is on Streymoy. The G! Festival is held at Gøta, on Eysturoy. The residents speak Faroese, a language pretty much limited to this country. It is based on Old Norse, and is allegedly similar to Icelandic. Learning Danish is compulsory in schools, and English is also spoken widely. Although it is part of Denmark, the Faroe Islands are not part of the EU. They are also, like Denmark, not in the Eurozone, so they use the Danish Kroner as their currency.
A Brief Note about Copenhagen
I have nothing against the city of Copenhagen, but I won't be writing much about it. I arrived at 6 am, having been awake for about 23 hours. In a rare moment of clarity, I had booked a 9-5 room at the airport Hilton before leaving Keflavik, and after waiting for what seemed like 35 minutes (and was, actually, 35 minutes) for my luggage, I drowsily made my way to the hotel. The desk clerk, in an act of seriously uplifting kindness, took pity on me and comped the breakfast buffet, which improved my mood considerably. I got to my room at 9am and went to bed at, roughly, 9am.
Then it was time to meet the group. Matt -- the organizer -- and two of the participants, Jon and Red, met me at the airport. (One other participant, Jenny, was already on the islands and would meet us at the hotel.) After hitting up the duty-free store, we boarded our Atlantic Airways flight and began the short journey to our destination. The weather was uncharacteristically clear and sunny, and the pilots decided to give us a nice view of the islands on the approach.
Photo Credit: Jon Armstrong
A note about the photos...most of the photos I will post here are my own, but the above picture is not. Jon Armstrong, one of the tour participants, took this shot from our flight. Jon has some serious equipment, and even more serious skills, and has been capturing some of the stunning beauty of the Faroes and is graciously sharing his work. You can check out more of his work from the Faroes, and his other stuff which is also pretty impressive, at blurbomat.com.
After landing, Matt picked up the rental car and drove us to Tórshavn, to the hotel. If the view from the airplane didn't convince us, the ride through Vágar and Streymoy certainly did: this place is beautiful. And if that sounds like a literary cop-out, it is. Because I simply do not have the words to describe it. I'm not usually a guy who runs out of words, so that tells you something.
After checking in at the hotel, I unpacked and lay down on the bed. The room is quite small, but honestly it is cozy and well laid-out and it just reinforces the idea that this is a special place. Just before I close my eyes for the night, the truth finally dawns on me: this is real, this is happening, I am here, on one of the most unlikely places on earth, and I'm already in love with this place.
Day 1 - All Around Streymoy
Tórshavn - The Capital City
Day 1 begins with a tour around the oldest part of Tórshavn, called Tinganes. The name refers to the location of the original Thing, or parliament, which has governed the Islands in various ways since the 9th century. We ended up with two local guides: Magni Arge and Birgir Kruse. Both were fonts of knowledge, local and otherwise, and provided us with an entertaining and informative tour. (I have future plans to write a page that will cover some of the interesting historical details, but I'll have to save that for now.) The walking tour covered many of the old buildings, the buildings which were formerly used to administer the Danish trade monopoly (now government offices) and the harbor.
A view of the former Danish trade monopoly buildings.
This building is now home to the Icelandic consul to the Faroe Islands.
A view from Tinganes over the harbor.
One of the main streets in the old part of Tórshavn. The house being converted to a restaurant is along this road.
The above picture is an interesting story. As we were walking on the tour, a man was outside painting his house. He invited us in to show how it was being renovated to make room for a restaurant. He then showed us into his own house, where he and his wife explained the history of the house and the history of housing in this area. The motifs of hospitality, pride and warmth will be present throughout this narrative. Another motif will be that time is a more flexible concept here than it is in most other places.
Heading North - Saksun and Eiði
After a brief stop for lunch and to pick up supplies, we headed north to the town of Saksun. Inhabited by just thirty people, it has an amazing view into the fjord, and some amazing pictures have resulted.
The church was brought over from the town on the other side of the mountain, and reassembled here, after the original was destroyed. Townsfolk trekked over the mountain each Sunday to attend services in the neighboring town, until this church was re-constructed in Saksun.
More gratuitous beauty, looking from the entrance of the church onto the fjord.
Location, location, location.
Some of the buildings are constructed in the traditional style.
We then moved on to the town of Eiði. The remarkable sight to see in this town is the soccer pitch which overlooks the sea.
View from the corner -- looking in from the sea side.
Hard to see, but the fence and rocks on the far side lead right off into the ocean.
This pitch says a few things. First, and most obvious, is the national love of the game of soccer. Second, is the desire to not let the limitations of the land change the quality of life. This was most likely built here because it was one of the few flat areas available at the time.
Just outside of Eiði, we stopped to take a look at the formation known as Risin og Kellingnin (the Giant and the Witch). Like many tales, it involves a giant (and a witch) who conspire to tow the island way, but are caught by the daylight and turned to stone.
Distant View
Closer look at the formations.
Gjógv and a Show
We rounded out the evening with a trip to the town of Gjógv. The word means "gorge" and the town has that name for an obvious reason:
It's a gorge!
A look back over the town.
The road leading into town.
Same road, later in the day, after fog had set in.
After checking out the scenery, we stayed in town for a dinner which featured some traditional Faroese food and a performance by Guðrið Hansdottír. After her performance, we all learned some traditional Faroese chain dancing, which was fun and also surprisingly intense.
This was a really long day. But we saw so much that was incredible, it was worth being out late.
The main idea behind going to Iceland was to spend some time exploring around the North, using the town of Akureyri as a home base. (The previous post, which implied that the flight to Akureyri was induced by a combination of jet lag and marketing was more saga than history.) I had arranged for a car rental, and while waiting for the car to be delivered to the airport I said a short prayer, asking to be saved from having to drive a manual transmission.
It worked. I am reminded of Marge Simpson: "After all, God works for us. Our prayers pay his salary."
Anyhoo, after checking in to the second smallest hotel room in the Nordic countries, I took a nap, and then took to the roads.
I totally had a passenger take this picture for me. Safety first.
Gratuitous duplicate picture posting, because seriously, look at it.
I didn't bother dividing up the pictures between Sunday evening and Monday morning, because the night didn't bother dividing those two days up ... so why should I? So I can tell you where I went, but not exactly when.
Goðafoss
This was my second lifetime visit to Godafoss -- which means "waterfall of the gods" (roughly). It received its name when one Þorgeir Þorkelsson Ljósvetningagoði, the lawspeaker of Althingi in 999 A.D., after having decided that Iceland would abandon its Norse religion and adopt Christianity, threw the statutes of his Norse gods into the waterfall. Given Iceland's penchant for long and unpronounceable names, I'm a little surprised that they settled for the rather pedestrian "Goðafoss" instead of Ljósvetningagoðurfoss.
Selfoss and Dettifoss
After renewing my acquaintance with Goðafoss, I continued on my planned itinerary. The next stop, and the furthest extent of my itinerary, were the twin falls known as Selfoss and Dettifoss. Dettifoss has a 5-star rating on Google, so you know it has gotten good reviews. It is also said to be the most powerful waterfall in Europe. Selfoss is on the same river and is actually a little bit upstream -- about a 15 minute "hike" (walk, really). Dettifoss is a hugely powerful, single waterfall; Selfoss is perhaps not as powerful but is more picturesque, as it has a number of smaller falls over the intricate rock formations. Or, you can decide for yourself. The pictures here aren't so great because, frankly ... it's hard to capture the essence of a huge waterfall on camera, especially if you are photographically declined like me. Also, the batteries died before I got all the way down to Dettifoss, so I may have missed out on a better shot.
Selfoss
Selfoss - I like this view because of the comparatively tiny fall on the right.
Selfoss, from a distance.
Dettifoss, from a considerable distance.
Not a great shot, but it gives a better sense of scale.
There will be some general, philosophical thoughts about waterfalls below, but I wanted to include the following picture. This was taken standing roughly parallel to the base of the waterfall, looking downstream. The cliffs on the far side extend for about 250 yards from the base point. At some point in geological history, the falls began at the edge of that cliff, and they have eroded the solid rock for a full 250 yards. A little bit downstream, you can see the even more profound effect that Dettifoss had (is having, really) on the landscape. (You can see it, but it's hard to photograph.) I just think that this is pretty damn impressive, Mother Nature.
My qualifications for making statements about geology: my college roommate was a geology major.
Also, I like to think of Iceland as "Darwin's Playground", because it rewards the brave and moronic with many spectacular opportunities for death and/or serious embarrassment (both of which tend to limit the chances of reproductive success.) The picture below was taken from a view about 150 yards from the edge of the cliff. The camera was full zoomed-in. This honeymooning couple from England (natch) decided to pose for a spectacular shot on the extremely slippery and windy brink.
Yes, I was rooting for nature to win this one...sorry, humanity.
There were a few tense moments -- I didn't actually want to witness someone falling into the waterfall, so yes, they were tense -- but nature relented and allowed them to escape. For now. I have a feeling nature isn't done with these two.
Motivating Around
After these spectacular sights, I decided to take a little detour and visit the town of Husavik, because why not right? I don't have a lot to say about the town -- as expected, there wasn't much there -- but the journey was interesting. Iceland's main roads aren't all paved. I knew this, but what caught me off guard is that the road to Husavik starts out as paved, and after about 10km, for no apparent reason, it becomes a gravel road. It is surprisingly hard to drive on a gravel road for any period of time, as I found out. After a while, I caught up with a road grader and followed it for a few kilometers. So they were literally remaking the road for me, which was very thoughtful. A few kilometers before Husavik, the road suddenly and inexplicably became paved again. Hmm.
On the way back through Mývatn, heading back toward Akureyri, I decided to take a stop at the Nature Baths. This is a geothermal spa that is basically built into the lava fields. The water is mineral-rich, and a slight sulfur smell permeates the area. The temperature varies throughout the area, so you can move from warm spots to hot spots as you like. If you hold your hand (or whatever else) three inches below the surface of the water, you can't see it -- the mineral content is that high. Being in a nice hot spa, which is outdoors, while the weather is about 38 degrees and windy, is quite an experience. Worth the 3,500 kronur? Absolutely.
And, that was it. Back in the car, back to town, fill up the rental car, and return it to the airport. Hop a flight, then walk with my luggage to the bus terminal, take the bus back to Keflavik and I'm pretty much done with Iceland. At this point I am physically exhausted, but pretty happy with Iceland. I keep reminding myself that Iceland was just a stop; I'm here to see the Faroe Islands. But tomorrow I will deliver myself into the hands of our guide, and I won't have to worry or plan or anything.
Iceland was definitely a success. I think I proved a little something to myself, that I can plan a reasonably cost-effective trip to see some sights. Maybe next time I will provide more time for sleeping and relaxing. But maybe not. There is something about being up north in the summertime, with the limited amount of nighttime available, that encourages all-nighters. There was a lot on this short visit that I didn't document here. Long walks around towns that used to be random, unpronounceable points on a map. Meals that were subtly, or not so subtly, exotic. The thrill of being on your own in an unfamiliar place. Or taking a deep breath of ice-cold air in early July.
The one drawback to Iceland is that I didn't have much interaction with people. It was pretty much just me, by myself, and keeping to myself. Most of the time, that is not a problem. Nature is more than a sufficient companion when you are being misted by an immense waterfall, with the thundering noise edging stray thoughts from your mind. But I longed to have a friend with me as I drove over the green and hilly landscape, avoiding sheep and gravel roads and British tourists. An iPod just isn't the same -- even if it does have the hippest playlist known to humanity (modesty, right).
I am certain that the Faroes will be different.
Bonus - Random Thoughts about Waterfalls
[warning: unabashed philosophical and religious material ahead]
The well-known American philosopher, Ferris Bueller, once rendered this statement:
Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you might miss it.
This statement is practically teeming in truth. It is plainly obvious, frequently overlooked, and catchy -- all of which combine to make it a worthy aphorism. Standing on the shoulders of this giant, I was struck involuntarily by a thought when I was walking away from Selfoss and judging the amount of energy being expended by the falls, and the effect it has over geological time. While neither catchy nor obvious, I think this is frequently overlooked, so I will share the thought with you:
Life moves pretty slow. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you might not notice it happening at all.
I believe that these two statements can happily coexist. The fact of the matter is, we frequently take for granted the basic facts of our own existence, and our own environment. I think there is some value in taking a moment to realize why our planet is the way it is -- where did it come from, and how did it get this way? What changes do nature's forces cause? What changes do we cause, little by little, without even noticing?
I think there is value in examining our own selves, too. What holds us together, physically? What are the biological and chemical processes that need to continue on a constant basis in order to keep us alive? What makes me different from an animal, or a plant, or a rock, or the wind... and what makes me the same as these?
Yes, these are far-out-there questions that perhaps don't need to be asked. But I think we pay a penalty of sorts when we become disconnected from what makes us, us, and what makes here, here. Life does move fast, but it also moves slow; noticing the slow can give us a great sense of perspective. Honestly, a lot of things have had to go right for many of the good things in life (even life itself) to be as they are. I think that is worth reflecting on.
For me, that provokes a religious feeling, one of thanksgiving to God. It also gives me a feeling of "rightness" and connected-ness with the world, which I think are positives that anyone can enjoy. And we can have this feeling not only at great waterfalls in Iceland, but at home, or on the road, or in the office...anywhere we are. And that sense of thankfulness can go with us. And now I think I fully understand the following phrase from my church's liturgy, and affirm it here:
It is right, and a good and joyful thing, always and everywhere to give thanks to you, Father Almighty, Creator of heaven and earth.
After walking up to Hallgrimskirkja and taking a wholly unnecessary circuit around town, I ended up back on the main shopping street, Laugavegur. The name literally means "Wash Street", and refers to its origins as a path that led to hot springs where the women would take laundry to be washed. (Incidentally, the Icelandic word for Saturday, Laugardagur, is a related word -- "Wash Day".)
It was still a bit early so I stopped at the 10-11 -- basically a 7-11, but in Iceland -- to get some fruit and a diet coke for "breakfast". (By the way, diet coke is branded as "Coke Light" here.) After my makeshift breakfast, I walked down two blocks, past the Chinese embassy, to check out the view from shore.
This is nice.
Not ugly.
Very, very not ugly.
I say I was a bit early because I was waiting for the 10 am opening of the Icelandic Phallological Museum. What credibility would I have as a visitor of unusual tourist attractions if I were to be in Reykjavik and not visit a penis museum? None at all. So I paid my 3,500 kronur (which, I kid you not, was placed by the cashier in a hinged wooden penis-shaped box) and stepped through to see what was on display.
I have no pictures, and very few words, to describe what was inside. The owner, who was not on the premises, is clearly obsessed with this particular anatomical feature. His goal is to collect samples from every species that lives in Iceland -- including the human. And they do indeed, have a human specimen, although the museum mostly consists of items from whales and other sea-dwelling creatures. The Folklore section includes a sample from an elf -- elves, you may recall, are indigenous to Iceland, and invisible to humans.
Is it really worth travelling all the way to Iceland for this? No -- but they have a gift shop. And I did buy a few items as gifts. All of the items are gifts for other people, but there is a meta-gift for myself. And that is the knowledge of the reaction that the TSA baggage screeners will have when they look at my luggage and see four penis-shaped objects... on key rings. I'm sure they've seen worse, but I think of this as my petty revenge for the shoe incident at Newark.
Anyhow, since it had been, at this point, about twenty-seven hours since I had last slept, I decided to take the advice of the very next advertisement I encountered.
Yeah, let's fly to Akureyri!
Admittedly, I lucked out; this could have gone much more poorly. I guess I'll just have to be thankful, and end my post with a sincere...
This one is going next to the Maryland "Allelua" plate in my vanity plate photo collection.
It has been a few years - five, according to my visa stamps - since I've been in Reykjavik. So the geography isn't really second nature to me. So I was taken completely by surprise when I turned the corner and came across this:
Yes, it's a duck pond.
I remember this duck pond. It sits right at the back of the big pond and park on the edge of Gamla Hofn (the old town) -- Tjornin. It's pretty, especially early on a Sunday morning.
The Free Church anchors one side of the pond.
Thingvellirhusid, the Icelandic Parliament House, stands in the background.
And Reykjavik City Hall just rises right the hell out of the pond.
I have my bearings once again, and I move forward more confidently through the quiet streets. Not much is open yet, so I'm free to wander without the crowds of [other] tourists.
And as I head up the main shopping street, suddenly I see it off to my right:
There it is. Still pretty far away and, yes, it would be uphill, too.
The wooden signs on the right host the local kindergarten students' drawings of the cathedral. I'll post those separately. But to prove I did make it all the way to the church, here's Leifur:
Leifur Erikson, with an axe.
Part three continues with some nice views of the shoreline, a stop at the Icelandic version of the 7-11, and a trip to the Phallological Museum of Iceland. (Yes, I said "Phallological".)
Oh, I forgot to add...this is what I thought when I finally found my way to Hallgrimskirkja:
Part 1 of my Icelandic saga (see what I did there?) began in the skies above Newark, just as soon as the landing gear went up. This is the moment when I set my watch to Iceland time and reconciled myself to the fact that I was actually on vacation.
US Time: July 5, 21:00.
Icelandic Time: July 6, 01:00
The flight was somewhat turbulent, but mostly uneventful. I had an aisle seat, and several forms of entertainment. IcelandAir is quite comfortable, and they have an in-seat entertainment system so you can watch movies and such. I had my iPod, Kindle, and an audiobook on my phone, too. And the couple who had the seats next to me spent most of the flight making out. So I had lots of choices. I ended up re-watching The Secret Life of Walter Mitty, which I had originally seen with Nicole a few months ago. Liked it the first time, still like it, and it's a great way to get fired up for a vacation. I watched a little bit of Garden State, too, but mostly just listened to music. Didn't sleep.
We touched down at Keflavik airport at 05:40, local time. Went right to immigration and got through with no hassle. In fact, the immigration agent -- who looked to be 17 years old, maybe this is some kind of high school work study program -- was amazed that I would be going on to the Faroe Islands. "How did you even know about them?" he remarked in wonder. Picked up the luggage, exchanged some money, and hopped on the Flybus to take me to Reykjavik.
My passport betrays the fact that I am a return visitor.
Forty-five minutes later, I am in Reykjavik Domestic Airport. My flight for Akureyri leaves at 13:00. It is now 06:40. The temperature is 39 degrees F -- 40 degrees less than when I stepped out of the car at Newark.
After collecting my thoughts, which took a while because they were in a number of different places, I decided to follow Walter Mitty's path and be bold. I found a luggage locker and somehow managed to get it to work with my credit card. I stowed my big luggage. I put on a fleece and went outside.
Then I went back inside, took out my jacket, and put that on over the fleece. Then I went back outside. It was really cold. (But not raining, for once.) I wanted to go see Reykjavik, again. But I didn't know where to go. Fortunately, the city has one famous and prominent landmark: Hallgrimskirkja.
Hallgrimskirkja, from around Reykjavik Domestic Airport
You just have to keep walking toward it, and you'll be downtown eventually. Should take about 10 minutes.
Hallgrimskirkja, ten minutes later.
Ten more minutes should do it.
Hallgrimskirkja, ten minutes later still.
You know what, there is more to Reykjavik than giant churches. I decided to deviate off course and see what lies to the West. Find out, in part 2.
In a few hours, I will board an overnight flight to Keflavik, Iceland. When I arrive tomorrow morning, I'll hop a bus to Reykjavik, then catch another flight to Akureyri, in North Iceland. By 2pm tomorrow (local time), I will be loosed on the roads of Iceland, and my Nordic adventure will be underway.
By Monday morning, I'll be in Denmark. Monday evening, we'll touch down at Vagar Airport in the Faroe Islands.
But hey, the airport is part of the vacation, right?
It starts with the obligatory interaction with the TSA. Because it is impossible for TSA agents to be civil, I naturally got yelled at for the horrible infraction of: taking my wallet out of the plastic bin and putting it back in my pocket, instead of taking the entire bin to the chairs in the back of the room; thereby holding up the zero people who were behind me. Perhaps I expect too much from the police academy dropouts our government employs to protect our airports, but is it really too much to ask that public servants be civil to people they serve?
But once past the TSA, I love the airport.
It starts with the post-security "re-humanization zone", as I like to call it. It is amazing to see a person who comes away from the stripping, screening, and verbal abuse (see rant, above) with downtrodden looks, to slowly rebuild a more positive affect as they put on their shoes, belt and wallet (unless they are rebels like me, and have already pocketed their wallet). The ones who sit in the chairs to tie their shoes are the best. They have a moment of joy and satisfaction as they tie their shoes -- thinking "This is something I'm good at! I'm accomplishing something! Yes!" -- which slips away immediately as they stand up and realize that they have no idea where they are supposed to go next. Human drama!
The airport bar is great because it houses several archetypes. The married businessman, released from home life, who tries to chat up every lady. The frazzled parents, kids in tow, who came to the bar hoping for a drink but realized that the prices are high. The longtime travelling companions who are enjoying their meal and relaxing between legs of a long journey, and falling into an easy routine. The recent college grad, heading off to travel in Europe, who thinks he may have a chance of getting with the bartender, and will tip accordingly. The tired and weary traveler who looks like he just got off of a flight from Hong Kong, and is getting a drink before his connecting flight to Johannesburg. The solo traveler who is blogging his experiences. We're all here.
Sitting at the gate gives a different view of humanity. Clearly, the term "sit and relax" means different things to different people. Some are completely incapable of it; they sit, and then stand up, look around, check their cell phone, sit down, and repeat. Solo people are usually reading, playing with their cell phone or (if they are my kind of people) sitting still and looking thoughtful. A few sleep. Couples are the best to watch. Some of them chat and tell jokes; some just ignore each other very deliberately. I have observed that most couples will sit down and immediately one will put their arm behind the other. But if this doesn't happen immediately, it will happen after about 10 minutes. I'm not sure what, if anything, that means.
I think what I like best, though, is the employees. While there are a few grouches, and the obligatory petty tyrants (see rant, above), what you mostly see is people who actually enjoy what they do. I guess it's not as surprising when gate agents, who presumably got into the business because they like people, seem to enjoy being helpful. But it's a nice sight when you see a janitor stop his work to help an older passenger carry her bag, or to see the restaurant and store workers reach out to the lost and confused and send them (presumably) in the right direction.
So while I will spend a little time reading, and a little time studying Icelandic road signs, and a little time writing, I'm going to spend most of my time people-watching. In fact, I'm going to close this post now, and get on with the observations.
