The Nordic Lands - Day Nine

Viking

WE'VE found people who enjoy going to museums as much as we do, so we take a bus to the Viking Ship Museum together, which consists of three gigantic boats and a number of smaller Viking artefacts. We like it so much that we spend a lot of time at the tiny gift shop afterwards, where we have to prevent Sofia from buying a tiny and very overpriced drinking horn. She concedes that it's not worth it, but I have a strong feeling she'll never forget about that horn.


IN the Historical and Folk Museums we see even more horns - all heavy and decorated and beautiful, so we feel justified in our choice to reject the tiny plastic one. The Folk Museum also contains a number of traditional wooden houses, which seem lovely until you step inside and immediately think you're about to die because the teetering old house is collapsing.

EVERYONE is very interested and knowledgeable about British politics at the moment, so discussing the extent to which the tories have screwed up keeps us entertained on the way to the National Gallery. I stare at the iPhones which double as audio guides nestled in a glass-like simulated womb as they charge. I learn more about art movements and find another sculpture that I quickly become obsessed with.

WITH the other girls in the hostel, we head to Punjab Tandoori, which I also become obsessed with. So delicious! So amazing! So cheap! It's the first time I've ever 'gone out for an Indian' and actually enjoyed it.

We walk slowly along the river to Club Bla and the 'penis swan' on the river, laughing at both the ridiculousness of it and kangaroos for not being able to walk backwards (we made an Australian friend. We're learning facts about marsupials).
Our subsequent night out is as eventful as most. We drink expensive cocktails, then head back to the roof of our hostel to find cheaper drinks with every other student in Oslo. We bond and look out over the city, doing ridiculous dares and trying to outdrink Sofia (she's Mexican. Apparently the the thing about them being obsessed with tequila is not a lie). Austin takes us to a weird club where we dance to swing music on a chequered floor. It turns out that, as Norway is so small, it's not difficult to find someone who knows The Wombats, so I'm currently being treated to the story behind 'Isabel'. It all sounds like a mess.

I don't think I'll ever get bored of watching people walk the streets, uninhibited after doing something momentous and reckless. It's like Tori Wranes says - our true selves come out at night. Or in this case after no sleep and a lot of alcohol. The night and dawn after experiencing strange things and strange rules are one of the world's 'hot pockets', as she calls them - 'generous in its embrace of the quirky' - where we are ourselves.

The Nordic Lands - Day Eight

Loch

THE weather is sunnily warm, with just a slight breeze as Ellie and I board the metro to Sognsvann. There, we take a leisurely walk around one of the huge blue lakes, occasionally stopping to sit by the water. We take a little detour up a hill through the forest and emerge at a rocky outcrop at the peak, which is covered in ferns and pylons.

AFTER getting some ice cream, we sit by the edge of the lake, along with children wading and families lighting BBQs. We discuss how lovely it is that two of the girls in our room are spending the day going to art museums together after only meeting this morning. As we're discussing this happening of friendship, a girl next to us expresses a wish to wade to some rocks in the lake, but is annoyed that her skinny jeans make that impossible. At this, her friend in shorts carries her across instead of letting her get her trousers soaked.


WHEN we return to the hostel, we meet some other girls in our room whilst attempting to eat instant soup out of Tupperware. We bond over the underwhelmingness of European dancing, and the difficulty of the doors in the hostel (every one is an intensely heavy fire door! Is this really necessary?). At least some thoughts are universal.
The room is filled with laughter for the evening, and I think about the continuous wonder of meeting new people you instantly click with.

The Nordic Lands - Day Seven

Sudden

WE wake up at 4:00am to get the bus to the airport, which is as painful as you'd expect, especially since I didn't get to sleep until 1am. However, I definitely cheer up when I hear a guy with a drawling American accent pronounce 'Skyr Iceland' as 'Sky Riceland' in the airport. As we fly into Norway, the ice capped mountains gradually transform into luscious flatlands beneath insubstantial clouds. There are vibrantly green fields, sudden slopes and hills, winding rivers, and still blue lakes in the midst of vast full forests.

PERHAPS because of my sleep deprivation and a two hour flight, I get the giggles as soon as we land. I'm fascinated by the architecture of the airport, the reindeer sandwiches, and the 4ft troll toys on sale, but I'm mainly set off by the airport bins of all things. They do look a bit like Star Wars droids. I'm fully cackling after Ellie tries to steal the Kit Kat I'm eating in a bid to gain some chocolate and also recreate 'The Tramp and the Dog,' as she calls it.

AFTER a walk in the heat to the hostel with our bags, we treat ourselves to a Thai takeout, which we eat by the curves of the river, people/dog/bird watching. We then meander along the river, turning our gaze to the old converted factories and bars. I think we might be in the Digbeth of Oslo, but a more pretentious version. Our wander culminates in a park, where we lie in the grass and decide which of the aforementioned bars we should go to. We decide we should go to see Frank Znort at Club Bla the night Ellie gets her results. Amazing. Frustratingly, we leave some shopping at the supermarket, and some beds get mixed up which causes some drama

at the hostel, but I nevertheless feel so at peace here. The city is so beautiful I already miss it. Ellie says she can picture herself living here. Oddly, so can I.

The Nordic Lands - Day Six

'The cafe is obviously tourist orientated but lovely'

Curious

WE decide to spend our last day in Reykjavik mooching about the city on a quest to find 'the country's best cheesecake.' Priorities take hold though, as first we have a look around the Phallological Museum (hilarious and horrifying in equal parts). Facts we learn include that human penises used to be slightly spiked; a ram's testicles are disproportionately massive; a blue whale's penis is surprisingly small; and a sperm whale's penis is surprisingly large. My favourite bit was the folklore section, which contained samples from a kelpie, a merman, and a troll, among other things.

'Genuinely might be the best cheesecake ever'

CAFE Babalu is where we choose to reflect on the experience, over a massive bowl of chilli and nachos and two slices of what genuinely might be the best cheesecake ever. The cafe is obviously tourist orientated (the American at the bar is wearing a rainbow hat with a whirly fan on top) but lovely. It's design reminds me of one of my favourite bars in Tokyo - full of random decorations that somehow go perfectly together. I think we spend about two hours simply trying to get through all the deliciousness we order.

'The sky high arches that run over the hall accentuate the shining organ'

'The quiet stained glass pictures a colourful scene'

LATER, we walk inside the cathedral. Outside, it has obviously been designed to mirror the salt columns of the south coast. The pews have been carved in the same way. The sky high grey arches that run over the hall accentuate the majestic silver shining organ, and the quiet stained glass window pictures the virgin and and child against a colourful scene. It strikes me that all religious houses are essentially the same - feats of architecture designed to reflect a godly and profound experience of something more. That enlightened sense, when you feel at peace yet overflowing as endorphins rush through you. Sort of like what I felt eating that Nutella cheesecake.

The Nordic Lands - Day Five

Blue

WE get the first possible bus to Blue Lagoon, winding our way through the mountains at 7:30am so we can spend the whole day there.

IT quickly becomes abundantly clear that this is a spa retreat for wealthy Americans, and I balk at how overpriced it is. However it is overwhelmingly nice - all calming water and floating bars, smooth wood and dark tiles.

WHILST everybody is floating about serenely, we spend time splashing about and pretending to drown each other. At one point I do accidentally submerge myself for some unknown reason (I think I just forgot how to stand up). At the same time, I don't think I can capture how relaxing it is to spend the whole day floating. The water is so salty it makes skulling natural. I imagine being kidnapped by mermaids as Ellie gently leads me, suspended by the water, around corners and under bridges. She does eventually nearly put me in a waterfall but it's relaxing nonetheless.

A silica mud mask is included in our entrance fee, and Ellie and I definitely get our money's worth. I apply it everywhere I possibly can because the salt irritates my skin, and Ellie does the same because the sun irritates hers. It turns out we aren't the only ones with this agenda, and I notice people who appear to be wearing a long sleeved shirt because of the amount of mud they have on. Even better are the bald men who've applied the mask to their entire head, which I find endlessly fascinating and hilarious in equal measures.

BECAUSE the water is an opaque light blue, it's impossible to see how deep it is. I struggle to breathe as I laugh at Ellie walking through the (half a meter deep) pool crouched down in order to remain submerged. Next to me, standing up like a normal person, she looks like a concerned gnome in a pool full of tourists complaining about how the smoothies are non-alcoholic. Sidenote: Skyr smoothies are the best smoothies, especially when bought and consumed in a lagoon.

BACK on the bus to Reykjavik, once again in wet jeans, I notice that the salt makes me hair stay up in any style I put it in, and that I have a tan for the first time since 2011! I'm thrilled by the healthy nut brown colour. When we get back to the hostel, our new roommate shares Stroopwafels with us, which sets Ellie off reminiscing about the majesty of Dutch street food. To be honest, eating something which seems to be a mixture of marshmallow, caramel, and gingerbread is amazing, and I can only imagine what it's like fresh and warm. Unfortunately, our other culinary expedition of the night does not go as well. We find what looks, smells, and feels like fudge in the 'free' section of the kitchen, but when we sit down to have a bit after dinner it turns out it's ACTUALLY CHEESE??? Weird sweet fudge cheese??? Neither of us recover for the rest of the night.

BEFORE bed we chat to Mum and Mogs, and as usual my brother manages to be serious, inane, and ridiculous all at once. Ellie remarks on how she loves conversations with all of us, despite this one consisting mostly of Mohan complaining that cooking, especially carbonara, is one of the more stressful aspects of his life.

The Nordic Lands - Day Four

Serene

I feel like the world is very big right now, full of possibilities and things I can experience if I manage to get myself in the right places.

'We notice a sort of summer festival'

WE'RE currently sat in an 'elf garden' in Hafnarfjordur, which is a small park so beautifully landscaped that it seems to go on forever. There are endless forks in the paths, and steps that lead up and behind hills and rocks and ponds and waterfalls. We've found a grassy hillock which is under the sun and shielded by the wind, and are using it to sprawl over and read books about music. Even though it's June, I'm warm enough to be in a t-shirt for the first time since I've arrived here.

WE walk slowly along the harbour, squinting against the various shades of bright blue lit up by the low sun. As we scramble over rusting metal, we notice a sort of summer festival. There are children kayaking in the bay, a zipwire across the water made of a line and a rubber ring, a blow up slide that sends people into the (presumably still freezing (Ellie looks alarmed)) sea, and a stage of live music. People are singing along as they pass. We spend a while sitting on an extremely quiet part of the rocky shore , looking down at the gently lapping water. Bombay Blue is playing in my mind.

'An extremely quiet part of the rocky shore'

The Nordic Lands - Day Three

Black

5:45am. Surprisingly awake. Ellie has had two coffees. BSI bus station for us. Is it a universal truth that all bus stations have it be scuzzy? I bet even Swiss ones have blue lighting in the bathroom stalls.

ONCE again, our tour guide is wonderful. He explains to us that the seasons expand people's lives in different ways - the summer opens up the world and connects people with nature, whilst the winter encourages people to spend more time with each other at home. It turns out the bus driver also drove our guide's mother to hospital when she was in labour, and now they're working together. Six degrees theory I guess.
We're on our way to the south coast, driving through all this beautiful countryside but I can't stop checking the post-election news. Everything seems quite terrifying right now. We drive through the mountains, believing all our guide's stories of elves and trolls living in the craggy and complex rock face, with its juts and craters like tiny cities, and rivers sneaking out from hidden places. Apparently the elves remain friendly as long as the rocks aren't disturbed, explaining the failure of a road meant to cut through the mountain but plagued by broken machinery and sickness.
We pass houses completely built into the rock face and stop at a waterfall like horses plunging into the rushing river, soft black sand all around. I'm expecting riots if the DUP get in.

WE'RE now stopping at an active volcano which is due for an eruption bigger than the 2010 one. Will update if I survive.
We pilgrimage along the rocky mountain path to witness the sun lighting up the black and green mountains, and the huge glacier across the lake. It seems to be made of layers and waves of white geometry merging greyly into the black. The base cuts icy shapes into the rippled loch, which laps onto a dark shore. This is what I imagine the surface of the moon to look like. Black and grey and icy, whilst people in boots and coats walk along it in awe, making strange noises on the rocks.

TURNS out there's a book on Vikings meant to be written by Odin, stating that Vikings should travel to gain wisdom. Interestingly, the current Icelandic word for 'stupid' means 'one who stays at home.' The Icelandic people have such an active love for their land. They remember a time and an attempt to privatise and profit from it, rather than live with it and protect it, and the thing is that time is over.




OUR next stop is at a completely monochrome beach, gazed upon by looming mountains and salt columns under a steel sky. We walk in reverie along the shore, watching the water swell in grey, then invade the charcoal sand with foaming bright white tendrils before shimmering its way back into the ocean. Ellie says she wants her ashes scattered here. Later, she is reading Sylvia Plath.

IN a rather nice twist, our tour guide decides we should stop at Eyjafjallajokull (2010 volcano) as it is sunny and 'looks magnificent' covered in snow.

LASTLY, we stop at a waterfall with the purpose of walking behind it. It was windy and rainy and I imagine that the arcs thrown up by the water are portals to other realms, somersaulting and spiralling and soaking me. It must have been all that elf talk, plus going past a shop called Midgardur.

AFTER not drying off in the coach (remember hw unpleasant it is to have wet skinny jeans or tights, then imagine getting soaked while wearing both) we waltz home in the sun.

The Nordic Lands - Day Two

Idyllic

AFTER a bit of a mix up what with waiting for the bus in the wrong place, we're on our way around the Golden Circle, and the sandwiches are surprisingly okay. It's clear the tour guide  absolutely loves her job as she tells us about the places she's camped at around the island, the mountains, the animals, and the steam outlets in the hills that sometimes end up shooting out of people's houses after an earthquake. It seems that an ever changing landscape with shifting rock formations, rivers, and geysirs is a normal part of life here, a concept which I find mildly terrifying. However the forests are fortunately the opposite of intimidating - "What do you do if you get lost in a forest in Iceland? Stand up."

'Royal blue rivers, pale grass, and clusters of dwarf trees'

WE stop at Thingvellir National Park, where Iceland declared its independence. After admiring the flag standing in honour, we take a walk around the visible meeting point of the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates. I feel very small.
Idyllic is the word that comes to mind as we meander across royal blue rivers, pale grass, and clusters of dwarf trees.



BACK on the bus, I stare at the lochs appearing in the landscape, from tiny glittering sapphires to vast bright blue masses flooding the valleys, themselves peppered with islands. One such island has another lake on it, making that lake a lake on an island in a lake on an island (that last island being the island of Iceland). As we pass the vast lilac carpets of Alaskan lupus, brought here to cultivate the land, our guide tells us of a range of mountains in front of us that look like a woman. Two german teenagers behind us are in fits of giggles, and even I'm tempted to ask if we'll be seeing the boob mountains up close.

'Gullfoss is one of those places that make you feel you're very near some kind of god' 

There's so much open space and desert here, but people have so much love for the country that I feel no fear when looking across the empty black soil and grassland. It's unexpectedly liberating to be so aware yet so separated from a phobia.

'I spend an indefinite amount of time just watching the water'

GULLFOSS (Golden Waterfall) is one of those places that make you feel you're very near some kind of god. Every misty drop as the water hits the rocks is your baptism. I spend an indefinite amount of time just watching the water - where it swells or runs rapids, where it slides blue or froths white, where the rocks jut up or are easily submerged. Paganism is still followed by many here and it's no small wonder. I can barely imagine what it would feel like to be part of a faith that shows itself to you in all its raw power and beauty like this. What religion rewards you, demonstrates itself to you, so readily or so evocatively?


THE geysirs are just really fun. Everyone screams whenever a jet erupts out of the turquoise pools and soaks all of us. Kids keep running into the spray. It's great. We do some food shopping after I'd had an open-mouthed and attractive nap in the coach, and return to the hostel to sort out my locker fiasco - never use a 20-year old padlock, it will get stuck. As I'm writing this a rather marvellous guy on reception is seeing if they have anything to saw it open with. Will update after dinner - I'm starving. Ellie's started cooking despite being stressed about the election and our early start tomorrow (5:45am for real). I can't believe any of this is happening.

'The geysirs are just really fun'

It's open! He sawed through it with a bone saw! I never thought I'd break into anything, but it's kind of lame that it had to be my own.

The Nordic Lands - Day One

Sunshine

AFTER a very short two days in Aberdeen of money worries, anxiety dreams, and evening walks along the old railway talking about the existence of fairies and road safety with Aaron, we're flying to Iceland today! I'm imagining this post-uni getaway like a tremendous whirlwind adventure through the North.

THE plane to Reykjavik consists of some exciting turbulence that sets me and Ellie off in half terrified giggles, the sighting of what looks like palaces made out of spun clouds, and an abundance of free coffee which I unfortunately cannot appreciate. I spend time listening to music while Ellie reads, thinking about how lucky I am to see sights that the old poets and painters only dreamed of.

WE land at the nicest airport I've ever been to - Keflavik is more like a sleek chilled out hotel than anything else. Only with Viking quotes on the walls. "Better weight than wisdom a traveller cannot carry." Sounds good to me. We obviously don't get a stamp on our passports (one of the saddest things about our modern times) and after managing to find our bags we board the FlyBus to the hostel. Weirdly, everything here is run on tourism, so there's no public buses anywhere, only private coach companies. I drift in and out of sleep for most of the journey, but wake as we wind into Hafnarfjordur, 'the elf town in the lava.' As we check in at the hostel reception, pay for bed sheets, and have the kitchen explained to us, I notice a map of the island hanging on the wall which reveals that most of it is desert. I am at a loss as to why anyone settled here.

AFTER unburdening ourselves of our bags, we walk around the bay of the town where, among other things, we find a store which boasts itself to be a Book/Bar/Bistro. Note to self: Open one of these obvious money makers in the near future. Unfortunately the (relatively) cheap supermarket closes ridiculously early (6:30 why???) so we're improvising at a corner shop so we can actually eat something. Dinner consists of pasta with tomato sauce which is very welcome to hungry stomachs, and our sandwiches for tomorrow's expedition around the Golden Circle are a rather depressing but necessary cream cheese and chive on granary bread. After dinner, we sit by the window, drinking tea and making plans. It's an early night before our 5:45am start tomorrow. Here's hoping the bus actually turns up on time.

WE don't have to get up at 5:45 anymore! This is revealed to me as Ellie jumps out of bed realising she'd got the dates mixed up.We still have an early rise at 7:30am, but all sleep is welcome. I'm shattered.

IT'S 2am and two guys are choosing NOW to arrive in our room. On another note, it's still light outside. The lack of sunset means I finally have a reason to wear my sunglasses at night (is it night if the sun's still out?) but would be v hard to take out of focus indie photos of people in cool outfits, as I am wont to do.