Greetings from Iceland!

Or "Kveðjur frá Íslandi," as they say (and as I can't pronounce).

The Princess and I went to Iceland for six days recently, and I thought I’d share some of the things that made the country, especially the capitol of Reykjavik, different and special.

The weather was sparkling. And rainy. And windy. It hailed one day for a few minutes. But mostly, it was sparkling. It rained a little bit every day, but only on one day did we really get wet (the hiking day, naturally). Overall, the sky was blue with passing clouds. The air was clean and fresh, the leaves golden, the birds very chirpy. I wore my leather jacket, the Princess wore her wool coat, and we were quite happy to walk for miles each day. Iceland is temperate…it doesn’t get as cold as other Nordic countries. It’s more like Ireland. Iceland actually means “island,” not “land of ice.” I didn’t know this before the trip. We saw the Northern Lights from our balcony the very first night, but not on our last night, when we took a boat tour to spot them.

Every Icelander speaks Icelandic, English and Danish, plus one more elective language. So impressive! There’s a joke…what do you call a person who speaks one language? American. Sigh. Guilty as charged, despite taking French for seven years and a recent commitment to learn Spanish on Duolingo. There is almost no accent when an Icelandic person speaks English, except they trill their R’s most beautifully. Rrrrreykjavik, I kept saying to the Princess. Rrrrrreally rrrrrromantic.

We did not see a single unhoused person. Not one. That’s such a striking difference to any American city. We are the richest country in the world, yet our parks and public spaces are crammed with people suffering from financial distress, mental health issues, addiction and despair. In Iceland, this isn’t a problem.

Our rented apartment was near a garden full of bronze statues, and each day, we walked past it or through it. Spotlessly clean, beautifully quiet and with such gorgeous artwork. It's right near Hallgrímskirkja, the famous and stunning Lutheran church.

There are amazing murals everywhere. Very little graffiti. Iceland also prides itself on a low crime rate. Doors are left unlocked, laptops are left on tables when you use the bathroom. There is enough for everyone, because citizens pay between 30 and 50% income tax. The rich pay the higher rate. They have more, and they pay more. Excellent concept. There didn’t seem to be grotesque displays of wealth. We didn’t see Lamborghinis or 10,000 square foot McMansions. Of course, there were bigger, gracious homes, but they were on the same street with more ordinary (and also lovely) homes. There were no loud cars, motorcycles or radios. The unspoken Icelandic agreement seems to be to make life easier and more pleasant for fellow citizens. I think America could learn a lot from that example.

We didn’t see an Icelander wearing an Icelandic sweater, which was ironic. Great wool sweaters, sure, but not the Icelandic designs that cost you a kidney over there. There was one shop that sold handmade children’s Icelandic sweaters that were so beautiful, the Princess and I decided the little ones had to have one…until we saw the price tags and fled. “I’ll learn to knit,” I assured her.

In restaurants, cold, pure tap water is brought to your table in a wine bottle. Icelandic water is incredibly pure. The glasses are small. This way, you sip and pour, sip and pour, rather than chug sixteen ounces and rattle your ice around, like my husband does (but at least he’s hydrated). I think it’s part of really enjoying a meal, rather than eating as fast as possible. America wins in cocktails, hands down. Restaurants offered sweeter, weaker cocktails, as if the nation doesn’t really care for alcohol. That being said, there’s something called Brennivin, which comparable to vodka but with a caraway flavor, like rye bread. I brought some home for McIrish. It’s been legal in Iceland longer than beer, since Iceland went the way of Prohibition in the 1930s. Brennivin has a black label and was nicknamed “the Black Death” to discourage sales. It had the opposite effect.

There’s lots of fresh fish and lamb on the menus, lots of potato dishes and fresh herbs. Fermented shark is something of a joke dish. Our tour guide told us they just offer it to see if a tourist will eat it. Rhubarb was featured prominently in cocktails and dessert, which was just fine with us.

The countryside is dotted with Icelandic sheep and horses. The sheep are very wide with long, flowing wool. Icelandic horses are stout and strong with little hooves to walk on all that rocky, volcanic soil. We got to pet a couple. I stared into one’s eyes, communing with his soul, until he offered me a horsey kiss. That’s just how I roll around horses.

All of Iceland is powered by water, wind and geothermic heat. All hot water is heated by geothermic activity (in other words, volcanoes). You take a shower, and your water is heated by Odin (or Surtr, or Logi) himself. That being said, it does smell sulfuric, which took some getting used to. Volcanoes are very active in Iceland. We visited a ghost town that suffered an emergency evacuation and upheaval when lava flowed through it a few years ago. People are starting to move back in bit by bit.

There are no mosquitoes in Iceland. Repeat. No mosquitoes in Iceland. However, there is also no half-and-half. Iceland gives, and Iceland takes.

I loved the cool weather and nice locals, loved walking up and down the hills of the city, looking at the happy children in their adorable hats, the brightly colored houses and many cats who wander outside (not strays…just outdoorsy, like their owners). All in all, I think I could happily live in Iceland, if my daughter and her family would come, too. My grandchildren would love the ponies and sheep. And I would learn to knit.