Iceland in the Dark, Day One: 1/18/08

Why Iceland?

Why not?

The temperature in Reykjavik is just below freezing, but the wind off the North Atlantic coast cuts through however many layers I bury myself in. Were I a typical Icelandic teen, I’d have a simple jacket, perhaps a scarf, but no boots, gloves, or hat.

It’s cold, no doubt, and I am bundled in all of the above. The scarf is vital (thank you, Katie Huston!), and my thick socks are a godsend. I’m definitely a tourist, but that is just as well, for the people here are ready to look out for me, smile, and explain how to find pubic buildings which have no obvious signs labeling them as museum or residential home.

Reykjavik has a population of little more than 200,000—everyone knows everyone, and most of the town proper is accessible by foot. There is traffic, but it is thin, and it always slows or stops for pedestrians. Even foot traffic is light amongst the numerous brick walkways and courts. I can imagine that the summer here is busy, what with closed up kiosks advertising ice cream and colas, but for now, as the moon parades visibly through the sky at any time of day, the capital of Iceland is quiet and even warm.

I just returned from a traditional dinner with dozens of teachers from around the world who take their students on trips, as well. At my table were a couple from Argentina (English is their fifth language), a teacher from Long Island and his Japanese wife, and a couple of teachers from Ann Arbor who I met at the Detroit airport. They run a team-taught humanities class and take their students to Italy every summer. For our Model UN team, I have to report that the stories from those who have been to China with ACIS are terrific—we are in for a great trip!

The dinner was a lobster bisque followed by a lamb and asparagus entrée; dessert was a berry yogurt.  All of it was excellent.  High in protein and fat for the Icelanders, apparently—the winter here is dark and long.  In January, in the middle of it, the sun is out perhaps five hours per day.  We made the most of it, even though we traveled through the night to arrive in Iceland at 8:00 this morning in pitch dark.  When we grew tired, we’d stop to replenish ourselves with an asparagus soup or bit of fish.

Where do the vegetables come from?  Perhaps 1% of Icelandic land is arable, so the country must import nearly all of its greens (and I suspect much else), so the cost of living is quite high. Why can’t they grow their own?  Years ago, Iceland (despite the popular story of its green beauty) decimated its tree population to make more croplands and build towns.  The trees held the thin topsoil to the volcanic under-rock, and therefore the past decades have seen enormous erosion by wind, sea, and rain.

Today was town exploration and museums. Iceland is happy to vaunt its local abstract expressionist art and simply-lined and sparse design styles: pressboard furniture and clean whites and blacks.  It’s classy enough in its consistency, but I’m not a fan: it seems to belie the warmth of the people we’ve met. One museum was the basement of our own hotel where the oldest known Icelandic settlement has been unearthed. The town literally lifted our building up off its foundation, excavated and reinforced the ancient settlement (dating to 871 AD), and then set the building back down. Some pretty amazing interactive digital tech surrounds the dig so you can see holograms and simulations created over the excavation itself.

The same was true of the Culture House: an entire floor is dedicated to the volcanic creation of the island of Surtsey in the late 1960s and how quickly life has rooted itself to lifeless rock. I was also happy to see great displays of the earliest surviving copies of several Icelandic Sagas:  The Book of Settlements, the Book of Icelanders, and others–inspiration for Wagnerian operas and Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings.

Finally tonight, I have to note the energy usage. At first, we were agog that doors to buildings are sometimes left open in this dark winter city, but that is only to allow fresh air to move into the buildings.  The energy costs (both heat, water, and electric) here are practically nil. This is the perfect eco-friendly energy system: geothermal power permeates the city, especially as volcanic activity remains. My room has no apparent thermostat and yet it is completely comfortable.  Iceland—left with few choices—allows the earth’s natural energy to sustain it. We’ll test this tomorrow morning by swimming in the Blue Lagoon, a geothermal-heated lake. From what I understand, the steam from the lake wets the hair of waders and the cold air then freezes it. Should be interesting!

—18 January 18 2008