Iceland Week 2: Family Affairs

A pink haze settled over the outline of Esja from the kitchen window in Mosfellsbær, Iceland, clouds hanging heavily over its peaks like a rugged Monet painting. The newness of the previous week began to wear off as I grew comfortable with the weight of my bedspread, the hum of the coffee machine, the laughter and screams ringing from the living room at seven in the morning. But my attention to these daily rhythms of life in Mosso would soon be interrupted—Laufey was house sitting for her friend in the countryside, and I was joining.

We were going to Hveragerði, a small town right outside of Selfoss in the South of Iceland. Laufey’s childhood friend Lovísa, a nationally acclaimed singer-songwriter, was away in Denmark, and the girls and I would keep the house company. My only time in Iceland thus far had been spent in cities–in the aisles of Krónan picking up skyr and cream cheese (rjómaostur), walking the girls to the playground (rolla), picking through old records at 12 Tónar downtown–so not only was I given the chance to see more of the country, but with a week of leisure ahead of us, I was prepared to deepen my relationships with the three girls: Anna, Àlfheiður, and Ylfa.

Anna, the eldest, is a wise soul for the ripe age of ten. She beat me at chess and rivals even my proficiency in the English language. She is gentle but bold in little ways: she longs to chop off all her hair at thirteen, holds an orange belt in Karate, and knows when she can or can’t handle a scary movie. Àlfheiður has the fairest skin and roundest brown eyes, so wide they’re about to burst. Adventurous and strong willed, she’ll choose the trail with the most loose rocks and steep edges, giving me a heart attack, although I would’ve done the same. She loves as forcefully as she protests–she told me “I love you” on the second day I was here but slammed her door behind me the very next. Ylfa is a fiery spirit with a heart like a firecracker, shaking her butt in the ice cream parlor when she’s got the camera’s attention. She’s easy to lose patience with but takes little patience to love.

From right to left: Ylfa, me, Anna, Àlfheiður

I was sweating just thinking about if the kids liked me or not, but Laufey’s words assuaged my fears early on. “I see that you’re good with kids,” she said. “The girls already really like you.”

I heaved a sigh of relief as the bricks on my back tumbled off. If that’s true, whatever else happens is less important.

“The worst thing you can do with Ylfa,” she said with wide eyes and a heavy heart, “is to give up. She gets terribly impatient, but she’s just scared of someone assuming my role… she’s out of routine.”

I thought back to the times I witnessed Ylfa screaming at her mother, slamming her bedroom door and giving her a look of utmost disgust. I was stunned by Laufey’s empathy and how short I was of it in comparison.

“You just have to be patient with her,” she smiled with a sadness in her eyes. I smiled back.

“I will.”

I hope I’m as good of a mother one day.

ode to the smile on the swingset

you drive me up the wall
with your spit in the sink,
incessant screams
and raisins on the hardwood
but right now i’m not thinking
about any of that as you laugh
on the swingset with a grin
so infectious i could freeze
the sides of your cheeks
to immortalize this rare
and raw joy.

a father on the monkey bars–
six foot two on a four foot rail
is flying forward, giggling
at something so unremarkable
but to his son it’s the landing of the moon
and he sees through youthful eyes
for just a second.

i should drop my guard.
swing so high i kiss the clouds.
she’s smiling so wide
and her light’s like the goddamn sun,
an innocence i fly to
that makes everything else worthwhile.

On the drive south to Hveragerði, I was exposed to a new side of Iceland: staggering mountains rich with mineral deposits, geothermal energy rising in thick steam, hot springs bubbling along the cliffs. Lovísa’s house was a few minutes outside of the town, and it exceeded the idyllic countryside cottage I had imagined. I was met with an emerald green sofa framed by boxes of old records, lamps from the 70s, and the largest collection of potted plants I’d ever seen. Light poured in from the dining room windows, illuminating the open kitchen with its wooden tables and wax candle sticks.

Lovísa’s home

Upon setting down our bags and wishing Lovísa farewell, the five of us wrapped ourselves in Lopapeysa and wool hats as we explored the backyard. Although Mosso was quiet and natural compared to where I’m from, this was the countryside: lupines and grass stretching as far as the eye can see, endless blue skies, no trace of civilization except for a few scattered homes and a church steeple. We roamed through the tall grass behind the house, which led to a hilltop where a giant cross was marked. The ascent was lined with lupines and loose gravel, and Ellie and Ronja leapt from foothold to foothold as the sun shone down magnificently after days of slumber. I paused to admire how perfect of a moment this was: my found family for the month all lined ahead of me, parading joyously through the overgrown grass, picking wildflowers to preserve in ice cubes and book pages. I pulled out my film camera and stole a few shots–my attempt to immortalize this moment.

Back in the warmth of the dining room, I made Laufey and myself a charcuterie board–my American specialty–with an assortment of camembert, brie, and pepper gouda from the Super Krónan in Hveragerði. Lovísa had offered us her last bottle of red wine before she left, and now Laufey eyed it ardently. “It’s a girls night!” She laughed and pulled out two wine glasses from the cupboard. As we munched on crackers and squeezed honey onto our plates (another one of my culinary contributions) I noticed Lauefy’s phone light up with notifications from her husband, Bjössi, who was away at sea for the month as a fisherman.

“How did the two of you meet?” I asked, having not recalled the story.

Laufey furrowed her eyebrows and readjusted herself in her chair. “You see, I never thought I’d end up with an Icelandic man. They were too serious; I thought I’d be with an American man,” she rolled her eyes. “I was so vulnerable to boys when I was young. I was just so stupid, so easy to give in. But I was never sure about the other boys. I was never truly in love. But when I met Bjössi, I just knew.” They had only been dating for months when she knew she wanted to marry him. That felt unreal to me.

“One day you’ll feel that sure—I know it.” She smiled, then turned her gaze to the corner of the table where a pile of board games were stacked upon each other. “Skip-bo?”

We continued our red wine conversations, poking fun at our exes and stopping in between serious questions to recount our cards. Maybe it was the wine or the evening’s end creeping up on me, but I felt myself growing increasingly comfortable around her. Iceland was starting to feel more like home.

Laufey and Ronja

The next morning I decided to take my long-awaited trip to the South Coast to visit Vík, the small coastal town that had first attracted me to the country. From the moment I googled Iceland as a wide-eyed sixth grader in math class, I dreamt of seeing the red steeple, jagged rocks, and black sand beaches of Vík, and now it was only a two hour drive away in Laufey’s white Honda Civic. I had never before so plainly seen my dreams come to life as I listened to the Iceland Road Trip playlist I made back in 2016 and passed the lush green plains and mountain ranges. I swerved the car every so often, squealing as I turned my shoulder to see the most spectacular view of my lifetime. Passing a waterfall (Seljalandsfoss), a glacier (Sólheimajökull), and a burrow of puffins along the way, I arrived at Skool Beans cafe in Vík, where I enjoyed a cocoa-dusted cappuccino and read Mary Oliver’s Devotions. I’d investigated this cafe closely from Google Maps images years ago, and to be sitting there, casually drinking a coffee and eavesdropping on the Americans next to me, was the most surreal experience of my life. It is always different than I expect, but in a good way. The more I travel, the more I see the act as a series of beautifully-shattered expectations.

Vík

the photographed view

something about it is different
than i imagined.
the houses are angular, obstructed
by cars and telephone wires
and duplicates of my expectations.
there are kids playing football
behind the steeple,
behind the scene
of my admiration.
if i had not known
of its beauty before, i wonder
if then, it’d be impossible
to be underwhelmed.

I returned to Hveragerði shortly before dinnertime and creaked open the door to the warmth of something waiting for me–Fur Elise sounding from Laufey on the piano, Ellie greeting me with a ferocious attack of licks and circles around my leg, Anna reading a book on the sofa, and Àlfheiður watching cartoons as Ylfa chased Ronja down the hardwood floors in a tutu.

“How was it?” they all asked excitedly.

“Perfect,” I smiled, grateful to be ending the day with them.

Here was the real heart of Iceland.