All My Fuck Ups In Iceland
Let me count the ways you can screw up
I had several fuck ups while on my two week trip to Iceland. One of my biggest fuck ups was killing my smartphone. How did I do it?
I wish it fell into the Blue Lagoon. Because that place was incredible. Alas, woe is me, it didn’t. Even cooler would be the glacier lagoon I rode an amphibious vehicle into. Can you imagine the story telling with that?
My phone wound up at the bottom of this glacier lagoon. Best way to die for an electronic ever.
Instead, it was a more common experience. Do you have your phone in the back of your pocket? Okay, so did I. I went to sit down and heard a distinct clunk.
Holy fuck. And not again, I bolted up and looked down. There, attached to my portable battery, was my iPhone 6. I tried to resuscitate it. I first dried it off with a hotel towel and tossed that away. I removed it from the casing and saw images in my head of me giving it mouth to mouth.
I even bought rice in Iceland. Do you know how expensive rice is in Iceland? It’s like $6 at their discount grocery store Bonus, who knows how much at their 24/7 grocery stores. My hotel was sweet enough to offer me this giant bowl to marinate my dead phone in. It never did come back to life.
My next fuck up was in regards to my first tour. I ended up being late for the pick up. I’m never a late person so I didn’t realize where exactly Bus Stop 10 was. Or, that you arrive 30 minutes before your tour. My hotel again came to my rescue. They spoke Icelandic explaining this stupid solo female tourist’s mistake. I was able to take an afternoon one.
There were the multiple times I hurt myself on tours. I ran up the stairs to the Skógafoss waterfall and fell. I scraped my hand, but my pride suffered more. The wet ground clung to my palms. Brushing myself off I approached the falls from the bottom. It roared and thundered like a living beast. My mouth fell open at the majesty and magnificence of it.
My top list of adventures to do was Icelandic horseback riding. On that day, yet again, I got the timing wrong for the pickup. I had two choices, admit defeat and eat the money, or throw myself on the mercy of my hotel again.
I chose option two. I raced back to the hotel determined to admit my mistake.
“I fucked up.”
I force my head on their desk. I make my best pleading because I’m a stupid tourist face.
“What did you do this time?”
A blond, Icelandic born lady asks me. She’s stunning, like something out of a Vogue magazine. The plus is that she’s incredibly down to earth from our discussions. Her eyebrow quirks in just that perfect way that she can guess my problem.
“I messed up the timing of the pick up. Again. Please help me since I can’t call them without having a phone.”
“Again? Seriously, I’m going to beat you with this newspaper, MD.”
I laugh at her teasing me. My head bows in that way a dog is trying to get out of trouble with it’s owner. She calls up the ranch and speaks in that impossible to discern Icelandic language. Yet, I can hear she made success when she repeats thank you in Icelandic on the phone.
“It’s booked for the afternoon time. Don’t miss the pick up this time.”
I profusely thank them and end up at the bus stop an hour ahead of time. They pick me up but I end up being picked up by the wrong people. With horseback riding I feel secure nothing crazy will happen. I ask for their wildest, most untamed horse they have. The troublemaker of the bunch.
I meet my match, a gorgeous buckskin Icelandic horse. Compact, furry, and already he rubs his head against my onesie snowsuit. When I get on his back we repeatedly jump ahead of the line and get reprimanded. I’m ready to go and he is too. With our third time of jumping ahead we get thoroughly put in our place. I whisper “Ho, easy boy” to steady him.
When we’re finally let loose on the trail I couldn’t be more excited. The horses tolt away and all I can think of is please don’t stop. Then, someone calls from the back.
“Hey! Someone lost their iPhone!”
I feel my front pocket and groan. It’s my spare, unconnected phone I’ve been using for pictures. I hold my horse back and spin him to retrieve the electronic. They look at me with that look of ‘fifteen Icelandic horses just ran on this and it’s probably dead.’
I push the white button and it brightens alive. There’s a hoof skid mark in the right corner from a horse hoof hitting it. I figure this is the badass story I was looking for. Except with my Lifeproof case this ancient phone survived it’s scrape with death.
My final fuck up was a combination. I wore the wrong jacket and I am avidly adventurous. We arrived at a beach that surprisingly wasn’t black sand. It was a pale yellow from the ocean. I climbed on top of lava rocks because I adore perching high up. Just as I stood on it my hiking boots refused to grip the rock.
I slipped on the seaweed. My back was crucified with the lava rock into my left spine. I didn’t scream, or even cry, I just grunted. My feet popped up and I surveyed the scene.
No one saw me fall. I brushed off the slimy seaweed from my thicker jacket. My back ached like a hot poker had been driven into it. With a little rubbing against the sore spot I put it out of my mind.
I seemed to be in the clear for the rest of the tour. Until hail came on our one walk and I was covered in snow. Which wouldn’t be a problem if I wore my waterproof jacket this time. Instead, I became like a wet polar bear. I met a couple on the walk through the Icelandic cliffs and sent them to the wrong end of where the bus would be picking us up. Luckily for me, they were, as they called me, ‘good people.’ They didn’t give me shit for getting us lost and nearly missing the bus.
Through every misstep and every fall I learned more about myself. I’m resilient as fuck. Admitting I’m wrong is one of the best things I can do, but it’s hard. I love being right, who doesn’t? Yet, if I stubbornly held to my pride I’d miss out on two great experiences.
That’s the beauty of travel is that you get out of your comfort zone. What you know is truly nothing, but staying open to discovering what is out there is part of the fun.
