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Why I Fell In Love With Iceland
Isn’t it just a land mass covered in ice? Not exactly.
Rolling hills of lava dot the landscape as we speed past it. I’m transplanted within an alien landscape. The stark contrast of it versus my lush home is apparent in my mind. Volcanoes and mountains cover the endless topography.
I’m in Iceland, a beautiful barren paradise. The road bumps up and down in the bus. The delicate moss covering the lava takes thousands of years to form. Right now it’s a strange, dull brown signaling winter has gripped it for too long. My jet lag weary eyes take everything in.
“This is just like my home,” a Russian from my plane ride says to me.
We share snack bars on the ride over. I prefer my chocolate granola against his health food barely chewable bars. They stick to my teeth and my jaw aches chewing them.
“Seriously? This is so different from my home. It’s like an alien planet. The harshness and barren beauty is stunning.”
I guess it depends on your perspective of whether you’ll be awed by the drive from the airport into Reykjavik. For me, I think of ‘The Secret Life of Walter Mitty’ and how badly I wanted to visit here. The ruggedness and untamed wild is intoxicating.
