Iceland, again (part one)
auroras, record snowfall, and a lost hat.
Dear Friends,
Greetings from Kirkjubæjarklaustur. It is a miracle we made it here in one piece.
After navigating the chaos circus that is JFK airport during the longest government shutdown in US history, we said a little prayer to the travel gods and boarded our flight.
The green glow of the aurora borealis followed us until we descended beneath the cloud bank to a full on blizzard. We arrived in Iceland on the morning of October 28th to record-breaking snowfall. It broke the previous record set in 1921 and essentially shut down the capital city of Reykjavík.
Usually I love a good snowpocalypse, but only when I don’t need to go anywhere. It made driving the 200 mile (300 km) journey to our destination rather difficult. Fortunately Thane is from the ice planet Hoth, also known as North Dakota, or we would have ended up in the ditch like the dozens of cars we passed along the way.
Please enjoy this video of an Icelandic horse navigating the snowy terrain more gracefully than a human ever could:
I cannot emphasize enough how insanely lucky we were. It took us over 5 hours to get to our accommodations, the blizzard never let up (it only got worse), the roads were slippery with ice, and visibility was horrendous. We made a stop in Selfoss to get groceries and the store was inundated with people stockpiling food, preparing to be snowed in. Lumi, our 11 month old baby with boundless energy, hates being in the car, so that didn’t help much either.
In all the commotion, I lost my hat. The lost hat is actually pictured above in the first photo, being used to cover Lumi’s eyes as she snoozes on my lap. If you have ever met me in person sometime in the last 2 decades you have most likely seen this hat, whether you remember it or not. I’ve had it for exactly 20 years; it was a gift from my cousin. There is nothing special about it, except that I am very very fond of it. I’ve brought it on on every single trip I have ever taken as an adult without even realizing it. Somehow in all this time it has never worn out, not even a little bit.
It would be so liberating to be a Buddhist monk and practice the art of non-attachment, but that’s just not the path I walk. So the curse of being someone who gets attached to stuff is that you feel sad when you lose something.
This just happens to be the premise of a popular children's book, I Want My Hat Back by Jon Klassen.
We made it to Kirkjubæjarklaustur counting our lucky stars. Shortly after we arrived, the storm reached its apex and the roads closed behind us and ahead of us. We were safe and warm with plenty of provisions, yet I could not shake the twinge of regret that my hat was back at a Bónus parking lot in Selfoss, which was now inaccessible due to road closures. I imagined that it was getting buried in snow, trampled on by the hoards of Snowmageddon survivalists, and shredded by studded snow tires. Goodbye to my hat forever.
I tried to look on the bright side. We woke up the next morning to a powdery soft playground:
The northern lights made an appearance that night:
Eventually I will probably write an entire essay on why I’m so obsessed with this otherworldly phenomenon, but let’s get back to my hat.
Thane found a Bónus contact form online, which I scoffed at. A “snowball’s chance in hell” as the saying goes, but I filled out the form anyway.
Some fun facts about Bónus: it is the largest chain grocery store in Iceland. The mascot, a pig, went through a rebranding recently to make it look more respectable, but everyone misses the old pig, which looked absolutely smashed. Bónus Poetry, a chapbook of poems inspired by the grocery store, is the best-selling poetry volume in the country’s history.
Here is a screenshot of their reply:
This would never happen in NYC. Never. Not even with Zohran as mayor (happy Mamdani week to all who celebrate). Could you imagine losing anything at a Trader Joe’s parking lot in Brooklyn? God forbid.
The roads finally opened back up, and we made the long drive back to Selfoss to go swimming, and to retrieve my hat. I truly did not believe it until I saw it. The store manager pulled the hat out from a small office, then handed it to me with a smile. How did it stay so clean? It wasn’t even dirty from being outside, and there wasn’t any wear or tear, not even a little bit.
In a majestic land of ponies, auroras, shooting stars, and transcendent light, nothing has so firmly cemented in my mind that this is a place where magic happens than getting my hat back.
Till next time.
Love,
Melanie
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Love this story so much!
I loved this story!