Warming up to Iceland, Pt. I

Great. So I ended up moving here. I can’t believe it. Certainly my family back home can’t believe it. Reykjavik, Iceland. A yokel from Austria. Then again, a German who lives here asked me what my issue was? “Iceland is pretty much like Austria by the Sea”, he said. Hmm… half a point there, but the cows are definitely missing. 

I think the only things I half knew about Iceland was something about Bobby Fischer meeting Gorbachev and of course the classics: ponies, air traffic disruption, random roadside penguin attacks and that it was not in Lord of the Rings. I could continue with the list, but it might be better I don’t.

Sulphuric Springs. 

It’s been a bit of a roller coaster ride and continues to be. When I first landed in Keflavík and finally got out of the aircraft into the walkway, I smelled this very intense farty smell and I remember thinking “Woah! These guys really do not give a flip. They are just living in the moment! They get their first chance of farting after 4 hours and they take it!” I admired that and my immediate follow up thought was: “When in the Rome, do as the Romans do!” as I’m a firm believer that you should respect the local customs and try to blend in. 

So I farted, too. A tiny bit with every step - tiny, but loud bits. 

The reactions of fellow travellers were not what I expected: Some were turning around, giving me looks (not the good kind), whispering to each other. My girlfriend pretended she didn’t know me, when I expected cheers, possibly a festive certificate and a couple of congratulatory handshakes instead of head shakes. 

So what I want to say is that it was the hard, embarrassing way I found out about the overwhelming  scent of the sulphuric thermal springs around the airport, I admit. Then again, the soft way might have been even more embarrassing for everyone involved that afternoon. 

Bonus I.

Bonus, sweet Bonus supermarkets!

I might be obsessed with them, and let’s face it, I am. The first thing that struck me were the separated meat, dairy, and vegetable cold rooms inside each Bonus supermarket.

The big difference to everywhere else in the world is that products which require cooling are not in fridges in the main food hall, but in separate, cold rooms with just regular shelves. They are basically huge walk in fridges. I imagine since it is winter most of the year, you save big on energy by only heating the main hall and instead of artificially cooling some refrigerators, just leave a backdoor open or blow in cold air into the cold rooms from the outside, because outside is literally ICE-land!

(See what I did just there? Like thousands of other people writing about this country? “Good jokes never die!”) I found that a brilliant solution. 

Later though I noticed something which I thought was completely unrelated. I did not cook much anymore and just ordered pizza (sorry: pizzu!) and assorted junk food. And it really took me (too) long to realise that there was a direct link between common in-bonus hypothermia and my cooking habits. Even in my natural habitat it always took me ages to decide what to cook and what to buy. Now in the cold storage in Bonus I could never decide on anything and always left with empty bags, because I was just freezing looking at vegetables and the meats inside.

Then finally one early morning at first light, so I guess at around 11:30 am, the solution hit me and I did what you have to do. I jumped straight into my car, stepped on it and drove to buy myself something that everyone seems to have here: a dedicated big, fluffy and toasty meat shopping coat! 

You can’t imagine how a piece of clothing that I never even knew existed, has improved my life ever since. That is the miracle of fashion for you! 

Photography by María Guðrún Rúnarsdóttir.