I met an Icelandic man the other day at work. He made a big impression on me as a person, but even more so with his stories of home....
With hair as fair as a silver mountain top, he glowed like a Chinese lantern in the night. Eyes a distilled water blue, and skin pasty yet not underexposed. I could tell he'd seen many winter days--or nights, rather. Iceland's winters come with impenetrable darkness, usually about 20 hours a day of it. For 4 hours you may see a bit of sunlight, but the rest of the time... I couldn't imagine it. No wonder he looked nocturnal, with cavernous irises like a Slow Loris. His demeanor was also slow, but not without energy. A gentle soul, that Icelandic Man.
And in the summer? Well, daylight nonstop. At one in the morning, it may look the way six in the morning looks to us here in Prague. They have to use black curtains and eye masks to get to sleep. The sun never goes away. I thought, too much sun is just as bad as too little sun. How could someone stand it? But if you've lived there your whole life, I suppose there's nothing strange about it.
Icelandic Man told me about the snowy mountains, the greenery to rival Ireland's, the capes and forests and beautiful rock formations... If you love the beauty of nature, go to Iceland. But besides Reykjavik, there isn't much as far as towns go. He said they don't like to call them villages, but towns. That's very important. Villages is a word reserved for a different kind of habitation, that of the elves.
Yes, elves. Trolls as well, but he didn't get into those as much. In a voice as serious as a box of explosives, he described how elves live in the forests and mountainsides, in mysterious little stone houses with grass roofs, and how roads and buildings are built around these sites in respect for the elves' territories. Elves are sly little creatures who--when they have any excuse--will disarm and betray you. That's how they get their kicks. "They're certainly not like Lord of the Rings elves," said Icelandic Man. "Our elves are small and grim. They're ugly little tricksters." For instance, if a car driving by an elvish village doesn't stop by the side of the road to leave a gift, the rest of the journey might be cursed... If a hiker wants to pass by an elvish village safely, he must bring along either a poem to recite to the elves, or, even better, a piece of silver.
So if you're planning on visiting Iceland, remember to pack your grandmother's silver cutlery, or your old silver costume jewelry, or maybe even a nice silver goblet. If you want to pay respects to the elves (and trust me, you want to) then you must have gifts. Icelanders take their non-human creatures very seriously, almost religiously. It was a whole other cultural phenomenon I'd never encountered. What could be more magical?
Next stop for me, the ever-whimsical traveler: Iceland.
With hair as fair as a silver mountain top, he glowed like a Chinese lantern in the night. Eyes a distilled water blue, and skin pasty yet not underexposed. I could tell he'd seen many winter days--or nights, rather. Iceland's winters come with impenetrable darkness, usually about 20 hours a day of it. For 4 hours you may see a bit of sunlight, but the rest of the time... I couldn't imagine it. No wonder he looked nocturnal, with cavernous irises like a Slow Loris. His demeanor was also slow, but not without energy. A gentle soul, that Icelandic Man.
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| Iceland's terrain. Yep, I'd totally live there. |
And in the summer? Well, daylight nonstop. At one in the morning, it may look the way six in the morning looks to us here in Prague. They have to use black curtains and eye masks to get to sleep. The sun never goes away. I thought, too much sun is just as bad as too little sun. How could someone stand it? But if you've lived there your whole life, I suppose there's nothing strange about it.
Icelandic Man told me about the snowy mountains, the greenery to rival Ireland's, the capes and forests and beautiful rock formations... If you love the beauty of nature, go to Iceland. But besides Reykjavik, there isn't much as far as towns go. He said they don't like to call them villages, but towns. That's very important. Villages is a word reserved for a different kind of habitation, that of the elves.
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| An elvish village, complete will little water well. Yep, I'd totally live there. |
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| Small and grim? How 'bout compact and broodingly sexy? |
Next stop for me, the ever-whimsical traveler: Iceland.
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