The Badassery of Iceland

I thought I'd be impressed with Iceland. I mean otherwise why would I have come here? I suppose it'll happen one of these days, one of these travels. I'll pick a destination that disappoints. That'll have to wait for another time. Iceland (Well, Reykjavik specifically) rocks. Austere, yet friendly. Forbidding, yet warm. A long-term stay is surely not for the woosy among us. It takes a hardiness, of spirit, mind, and body, I should think, to survive here. Winter is just now coming - Saturday being its first official day in Iceland - in October. My guess, though I have nothing to back it up, is that it'll last until April, the end of April. Six full months of absolute cold, stormy cold, severe cold. Hell, if it's cold now, I can only imagine what February is like.

Nonetheless, native Icelanders, the intrepid descendants of Vikings, a heritage they seem insanely proud of (and why shouldn't they be?), will roll with it. These are people who swim in the ocean on the last day of autumn when the air temp hovers just below freezing and the water temp....well, I don't even want to imagine how cold the water was/is. This is a nation full of badasses, if you ask me.

Cold tolerance isn't all Iceland does well. In four short days here, I discovered a lot about the country and the city of Reykjavik that I never expected. What follows is a list of things I learned that Iceland is pretty good at...in no particular order…

• Sunrises - Saturday morning I was treated to the best sunrise I have ever seen. In my life. Myt entire life. Sadly, I was driving so I wasn't able to get any pictures. I don't travel to see my journey from behind a camera (or iPhone) so while I'm disappointed, I'm also not. I don't know if I photograph would have done it justice anyway. Orange, red, purple, until it finally faded to a pink glow on the mountains. That was the morning I raced (I was driving to the race site) and if there was ever an omen for a good run, that sunrise was it. 

• Wind - Iceland is a windy place. Needless to say, there are wind chills. Before running along the water in a steep, frigid headwind, I'd never experienced a frozen face. Oh, I lived in Michigan for almost a decade and ran through a couple winters in Kansas so I've experienced cold weather. Just never so severe and windy that my face froze. Note that the feeling of a face unfreezing is indescribable. When liquid snot started to replace frozen snot, I knew I was on the thaw.

• Burgers - Ok, we Americans think that burgers are our domain. If we didn't invent them, we assuredly perfected them. Typical American we-are-the-best-at-everything-in-the-whole-wide-world cockiness. I hate to say it America (not really) but Iceland's got some freaky good burgers. Last night I checked Trip Advisor for some "Cheap Eats" (Nothing is actually cheap in Iceland...) and saw that a burger place called Block Burger had gotten some good reviews. Plus it was within easy walking distance from my hotel. Sold. I  have never in my life taken one bite of a burger and wished I'd ordered a double nor have I gotten halfway done and SERIOUSLY considered ordering a second one. The Basic Block Burger was THAT good. Juicy, great flavor, just the right amount of condiments and cheese. The fries were kickass, too. My only regret is that I discovered the place on my last night. 

• Tourism - Reykjavik has it down to a science. Once upon a time no one came to Iceland. Now, with some intense advertising campaigns and Icelandair's ingenious "Stop Over" concept, it's The Place. Iceland went through a pretty tough financial crises in the early 2000s. Tourism is what got the country back on its feet. And let me tell you, they do it well. From airport transfers to lodging to all different kinds of tours, it's all a piece of cake. Booking is easy. My hotel desk handles all of it for their guests (I'm sure most other hotels do as well). In addition, I would imagine that the competition for the tourist kronor has made everyone up their game. The breakfast at my hotel, as one example, was spectacular. Not omelets made to order or anything but the best hotel buffet I've come across in my travels. There is truly something for everyone in Iceland (including a penis museum...which still makes me shake my head) and it's all amazingly accessible. 

• English - Look, I've traveled to a lot of places where English is a very strong second language - Denmark, Sweden, Norway - but Icelanders (at least here in Reykjavik) speak damn good English. Better than many Americans (America, they do burgers and English better than us? And they haven't been in a war since WWII? Hmm...). It goes along with the rise in tourism, I'm sure (English is the international language of travel). Everywhere I went, people spoke to me in English, impeccably good English. I heard Icelandic spoken in places (at the race Saturday for one), but by and large English was everywhere. Signage included. 

• Running - Who would think that an ice cube would have such a great and welcoming running community? I like "cold weather" running, but I can't see myself trekking out in Iceland during the few sunny hours of daylight in the middle of a frigid, windy winter. I am clearly not Icelandic. Granted maybe only the best showed up for the race, but the field for Saturday's half marathon was one of the fastest I've ever run with. I was beyond impressed by not just the runners but by the community that seemed so apparent before, during, and after the race. These are people who love running and love supporting one another. Competition was steep yet there were high 5's and well wishes all along the out and back course. And - get this - there were spectators. On a cold, windy, challenging morning, people chose to stand outside and cheer on the runners. Super cool.

• Badassery - To this warm weather American, Icelanders are badasses. They stand out and watch a race (boring even on a nice day) and they swim in the ocean - THE OCEAN - on the cusp of winter. On my Icelandair flight, I watched a documentary about a bunch of Icelandic guys who surf. Here. In Iceland. This a country full of badasses. Period.

Iceland is a harsh and beautiful place. It is proud of its heritage and excited about its future. From what I can tell at least. I know I was - I am - impressed. There is so much to see here and - pardon the expression - but I only touched on the tip of the iceberg. I'm a city person so I focused on Reykjavik, but the rest of the country stretches out in every direction. Forbidding and inviting all at the same time. And totally badass. 

Living the Dream

They say it kind of snarky, sarcastic. "Yep, just living the dream." Like they are doing anything but living a dream. A nightmare perhaps but not a dream. I always have to wonder, though. If life is so awful, so un-dreamlike, why don't they do something to change it? I suppose they are mired, stuck in a life they spent years dreaming of and pursuing, and have absolutely no idea how to escape. If they even know escape is possible. Most of them are living some incarnation of the American Dream - education, job, house, marriage, family - and it's nothing like they imagined it would be. "I guess this is all there is...," they think. "Unless I win the lottery, beat the house in Vegas." Of course they never play the lottery, never go to Vegas. They merely sit tangled up in a shitty status quo and snark about how they are "living the dream."

I feel for them. It would be hard not to. They're miserable. They've made a choice, made a bed so to speak, and now they must deal with the consequences. I mean you can't just up and change your life, can you? Not when you have a career, a mortgage, bills, a spouse, and children to consider. Oops. It's no wonder so many people have mid-life crises. And accuse me of having one as well.

I might be at mid-life, but I'm most definitely not having, nor have I ever had, a mid-life crisis. I'm not saying I didn't chase the American Dream. I did. I thought it's what I wanted. I went to a good college, tried graduate school, got a job, started a career, found someone I thought would solidify the marriage and family portion of the Dream (She married a male doctor instead), changed careers, bought a house. The whole nine yards, right?  Then I moved to a new city, thinking surely I would one day meet Ms. Right if I could just manage to be in the right place at the right time.

Turns out things never quite came together for me, and I couldn't be more thankful. Seriously. At the time I was going like gangbusters after the Dream, I was at times sad, distraught, incredulous (not in a good way), and downtrodden. I couldn't see the forest for the trees, couldn't see that there was (IS) something else out there besides the traditional life they tell us to dream of and pursue at all costs.

Then one day - I still have no idea how it worked out the way it did - I gave it all up. I stopped pursing a career, women, and the murky notion of  home. It wasn't like I said, "Fuck it. Fuck. It. All", dusted off my hands, and  tore off down the road less traveled. It was far more incremental than that. It started with a graduate degree I knew would never amount to anything other than debt and a couple good, yet challengingly fun years, and continued with work on a novel I knew would never sell, then finally became seared into my soul the day I got my first passport stamp.

The American Dream isn't for me.

No duh, right? I mean let's be brutally honest. I've always been a square peg trying to fit into a round hole. Sure, I spent the majority of my life resisting the norm - some was purposeful, but most was just the way I am, the way I've always been. To a large extent I never cared whether I  truly fit in, but I always kinda wanted to. Be normal, I mean. Be like everyone else. Living the American Dream was something that would accomplish that and I never, ever questioned the insanity of it all. I just figured I do it a little differently - with a woman - and if anyone cared, they could fuck themselves.

I have no idea why it took so long to figure out. I guess I had to go nearly insane to understand my sanity. It wasn't always easy, but little of value ever is. Right now, right this minute, I am living the dream. Truly. Not in some sarcastic snarkified way. When I say I'm living the dream, I mean it. Really.

My life is a mixture of absolute perfection and becoming. Yes, becoming. Because, look, I'm not done yet. Not by a long-shot. For me, it's all about the journey. As trite as that sounds - we say those words insincerely far too often - my life is entirely about becoming. And enjoying the ride. I'll evolve and change along the way, I'm sure, but I never again want to find myself mired in the pursuit of anything less than my best life.

Two days from now, I'll collect a brand new passport stamp. I may have to pinch myself to make sure it's real. That's the life, the dream, we should all pursue, don't you think? One that has us pinching ourselves just to be sure we're awake, daily, if not hourly. It's a good life, if you can get it, and I have. It took stepping far, far outside the box, outside what's prescribed, but I promise you each and every wild-eyed weird look, acerbic comment muttered under the breath, and disdainful shake of the head (even the spit and loogies that covered my sixth grade locker) have been worth it.

This is who I am. This is my life. And dammit, if it doesn't feel spectacular.

Absolutely Everywhere

"Be patient, for the world is broad and wide." ~ Romeo and Juliet

Is it possible to look at too many travel photos? My Instagram feed is jammed with them. I follow travel photographers, travel and tourism bureaus, tour companies, travel magazines, people who live in my favorite places and post lots of pictures, and a variety hashtags for the places I really love, like #sweden and #stockholm (duh), things I really love, like #lighthouses, and places I hope to visit sooner than later, like #malta #argentina and #portugal. Sure, I follow my share of friends, dogs, a couple boulderers and runners, and few companies whose products I like, but by and large my feed filled with pretty pictures of places I dream of going. 

And that's the crux of it, actually. I look at all of these pictures - I could honestly scroll for hours - and want to go EVERYWHERE. Literally. No exaggeration. I never wanted to go to Italy, then Conde Nast (or some such magazine) started posting pictures and now I want to go to there. Same with Portugal (thus I now follow the hashtag). And Antarctica, Iceland (checking that box next month), The Netherlands, and Malta. Most of these places weren't on my radar before I started up with Instagram last year. Now I scroll and plan and get "homesick" for the road.

I think about it a lot. Provided I had access to clean underwear, how long would I need to be gone before I actually wanted to come home? Lest anyone think I have a crappy home life or hate my job (or hate America for that matter), I don't. I enjoy my life here. It's actually pretty cool. I run, write, play tennis, belong to two cool gyms, hang out with friends (on occasion), and love my dogs and where I live. I have things I should want to come back to. And I do want to. Sort of. It's just........................................................ 

I love traveling more. I see posts from friends on vacation -  "Can't wait to get home!" "Come on, United. Let's get this plane off the ground!" "So good to be HOME!!!!" - and I absolutely cannot relate. In my latest travels, the only thing I've looked forward to at home is access to a washer and a dryer. If I could get that abroad, there's a chance I'd never come home. 

One day I'll buy a one-way ticket to somewhere, anywhere really. Once I'm gone, I'll be gone. At least until the seasons change or I change hemispheres or climates and need different clothes. Ideally, my "home-base" would be a storage unit someplace centrally located with a large airport nearby. My sister doesn't know it yet, but I'm eyeing her basement in Minnesota (Minneapolis-St, Paul is less than an hour away from her house and it's a massive Delta hub). I plan to broach the subject next month when I'm there visiting. Even though I'm more than likely years away from my one-way ticket, it never hurts to lay a little groundwork ahead of time. Especially since it might take all those years to convince her.

I think about hypotheticals all the time. I come into enough money or can make enough writing to spend my time traveling. Where do I go first? Talk about option paralysis. Each time I look at my Instagram feed it changes. Stockholm. Why not start in my favorite city in the world? But... I've never been to South America and for some reason it's been calling. The Netherlands. Back to Australia, but the west coast this time or maybe Adelaide or Hobart. Israel. Morocco. San Miguel de Allende in Mexico. Yukon Territory. Faroe Islands. Portugal. Malta. The list is endless and ever-growing.

In the meantime, I'm lucky enough to be able to travel twice a year. Recently those trips have been in March/April (for my birthday) and October (to break up the monotony of the year). October 2018 is, of course, planned (Iceland) as is Spring 2019 (a brief stay in Scandinavia then Croatia). I'm already contemplating October 2019 (Malta, The Netherlands, or a road trip through Sweden lead the early voting) and I am seriously leaning toward Argentina for Spring 2020 (with maybe a detour to Antarctica to cross that continent off my running bucket list). 

It's a joyous sort of frustration for me. I look at pictures of all these places and I want to go NOW. Passport and one-way ticket in hand, current life be damned. Surely I'd find a way to make a little money before I maxed out my credit cards and ran through my savings. Surely. Fortunately, I'm a bit saner than that (at least at this point). But damn it can be tempting. I can't tell you how many times I see a picture of a place, think "Man, it'd be fun to run there!", and open up a travel app to find out how much a flight would be. 

Thus far, I search round-trips. One day though... I'll switch to one-way. That'll be an amazing day. Until then, I'll settle for hard work, patience, and my Instagram feed. Because I know, in time, I'll get there. Get there where? Absolutely everywhere.