Iceland
Story and photos by Renata Polt
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|  | Cool and alluring, Reyklavik, Iceland’s city hall | |  | Iceland’s Hallgrimskirkja rises high above Reyklavik | |  | The Hallgrimskirkja steeple towers over Reyklavik | |
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| |  | A colorful street in Reyklavik, Iceland | |  | Red roofs and a variety of color punctuate Reyklavik, Iceland’s streetscapes | | |
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| | Iceland is one of the world's newest counties, geologically, historically, and politically.
Located on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, the country—an island about the size of Kentucky—was created in relatively recent geological time by volcanic eruptions. Iceland's 300,000 citizens use cheap, unlimited, and nonpolluting hot springs for heating. But the island's geology makes its entire central part—a moonscape of glaciers, volcanoes, and geysers (a word of Icelandic origin)—uninhabitable. Towns and cities are located around the island's coasts.
Iceland was first settled by Irish monks in the sixth century AD. Some three centuries later, the Vikings arrived, as they did in many of the northern lands. Their story is told in the Icelandic sagas, written in the 12th century; the sagas' language is so similar to today's Icelandic that Icelanders can still read the sagas, making Iceland the only country whose entire history is recorded. The country gained its independence (from Denmark) in 1944.
I fell under Iceland's spell when I visited during a cruise on Holland America's MS Prinsendam. Iceland's fjords, stark mountains, and pristine towns are like no others.
The capital city is Reykjavik, with a population of about 114,000. Established in 874 AD, the city is near a harbor; the name means "hazy inlet," though when I was there the air was crystal-clear. That's usually the case, since Reykjavik has no heavy industry. Near the harbor stands a modern sculpture, Sólfar, by Jón Gunnar Árnason, representing a stylized Viking longboat. Not far from that is Höf i House, built in 1909 but famous because there, in 1986, President Ronald Reagan and General Secretary Mikail Gorbachev met for the summit that was the beginning of the end of the Cold War.
The center of town is compact enough to be walkable. Except on the major streets, traffic is light, and there's no litter to be seen. Adjacent to the Old Town is the Tjörnin, or city pond, which is actually a good-sized lake populated by ducks, swans, and geese. The modern City Hall, built partly over the water, occupies the pond's north end and appears to float on it. Inside, a large relief map shows the extent of Iceland's vast inland area as well as its craggy coastline.
Another major landmark is Hallgrimskirkja (Hallgrim Church), completed in 1974 and designed to resemble a column of lava, though to me it more resembled a ziggurat. The church dominates a hill and provides a panorama over the city. In front of it stands a huge statue of Leifur Eiriksson, whom we know as Leif Eriksson, the first European to "discover" North America in about 1000 AD.
Skólavör ustígur, the street that leads up to Hallgrimskirkja, is the location of many chic boutiques, and some of Reykjavik's antique shops can be found in the small streets leading off from it. Other shopping areas include Hafnarstraeti and Laugavegur, the city's major pedestrian mall, home of many designer shops. Among Icelandic souvenirs most treasured by tourists are bulky, colorful Icelandic sweaters and the yarns they're knitted of. Originally, each sweater had a unique pattern. Since Iceland has always relied largely on the fishing industry, the sweaters served a useful, if morbid, purpose: If a fisherman or sailor was lost at sea, his remains could be identified by the pattern of his sweater.
Today, Icelandic sweaters are available in both hand-knitted and machine-knitted form. I actually found an excellent selection at the Islandica store at Keflavík International Airport. None of them are cheap, nor is anything else in Iceland, where a portion of fish and chips in a downtown restaurant costs about $20.
I enjoyed looking at the 20th-century Icelandic art at the National Gallery of Iceland. However, for me, wandering around a city's streets without any fixed destination is the best way to savor its atmosphere and character. Reykjavik lends itself perfectly to this approach. Small houses are scattered throughout the downtown area; many of the older ones—less than 100 years old, however—are clad in vertically corrugated meal and painted in bright colors, sometimes matching and sometimes not matching the bright colors of the roofs, also of corrugated metal. A hilly area near downtown is the home of many foreign embassies, housed in large and beautiful villas with glorious gardens.
I didn't visit one of Reykjavik's most highly touted attractions, the immense man-made mineral-rich Blue Lagoon, which isn't really in the city but a 40-plus-minute bus ride away—too far, too expensive. I did, however, want to soak in some of the country's thermal pools; the naturally heated mineral water would not only feel good, it might also, I hoped, help sooth my arthritic joints. And I did get to do this in another port that the Prinsendam visited—Akureyri, the capital of Iceland's northern area, situated at the head of the country's longest fjord.
Akureyri, a small city of about 15,000, has a striking modern church, the Akureyrarkirkja, whose twin spires dominate the town, and a small but lovely botanical garden with specimens of arctic flora as well as plants from all over the world.
And, Akureyri has a fantastic public swimming pool. Pools, I should say, because there are eight of them in the complex: two lap pools, four children's pools of varying sizes, and three hot pots, or hot thermal pools—all outdoors. Each hot pot is marked with its water temperature, ranging from warm to "wow!" Since swimming is Iceland's favorite sport, even the smallest town has a pool and one or more hot pots.
I'd read that Icelanders conduct their social lives in the hot pots; even the country's president frequents the public pools and chats with his constituents in the hot pot. Tourists, too, I'd read, can make acquaintances there—and so it turned out. A friendly woman, speaking, like most Icelanders, perfect English, asked where I was from and warned me not to spend too long at a stretch in the hottest pot.
Did my arthritic joints feel less arthritic after the soaking? Well—maybe. At any rate, I felt relaxed and happy to have partaken of one of this charming country's popular pleasures.
©Renata Polt 2006
©2008 Renata Polt, All rights reserved |
