Feeling Trapped

 I'm really feeling the Great Isolation lately; essentially, the wanderlust is killing me. A year ago, although my personal life was in the process of painfully ending, I had just returned from Jordan and was getting ready to take off for Namibia and the Trip of Mystery. I've been kicking around beginning the process of putting together course travel proposals for next year, but it would still be a year away, even if I could make a Thanksgiving trip to Jordan work. I may have to think about going somewhere this summer. The latest news, at least todays version, is that everyone who wants a COVID shot should have one by late June, so maybe a late July or August trip might be possible.

A view from inside a cave in, I think, Hellnar. At this moment I think this cave would feel much less confining than my present existence.

Wanderlust - an endless series

 Lately I've found myself in a pretty dreadful mood, for any number of reasons I suppose. Partially, obviously, I'm in a lot of pain and it's hard to be upbeat when every step hurts and brings a constant reminder of our own crumbling mortality. However, it's more than that. Yesterday was Canadian Thanksgiving, which, in a Non-Zombie Apocalypse (or, as I've started referring to it as, the NZA) world, normally lines up with our traditional Fall Break at Champlain. One of our traditions, which is celebrated somewhere here on this blog (one of the now 2400 blog posts, because I'm just that self-absorbed), is to head up to Montreal for the Alouettes Thanksgiving day game (the CFL equivalent of the Lions or Cowboys playing every Thanksgiving here in the US, in the vastly inferior NFL). Since we can't cross the border - and since the pandemic has also canceled the CFL season - this was an impossibility. For some reason this really hit me hard, while also recognizing that in a world where over 200,000 Americans have died this is the very definition of #FirstWorldProblem (if not, #InsensitiveWanker). That said, I try to be honest here on the blog, which means I also need to admit that it did give me the blues, and seemed like a metaphor for all that we're giving up at this moment. And it reminded me that I won't be going to Jordan next month - nor Palestine and Australia in the spring - and who knows if I'll go anywhere over the summer - or even next fall. I guess I've defined myself too much by my travel. That said, I also try to keep in mind that I'm one of the lucky ones, and that soon, soon, all too soon I'll be back on a plane heading somewhere. And even the multiple surgeries that are lining up will in the end empower me to get there; truthfully, I couldn't pull off any trip at the moment.  

For some reason these two pictures I snapped in Iceland a few years ago - during a sudden whiteout - seemed a fitting metaphor for my mood as we struggle through the great pandemic isolation and our former lives become indistinct memories.

Hunting For Northern Lights - Unsuccessfully

 Here are some shots of the lovely little town of Holmavik, our first stop in Iceland. My son and I were so pumped to see Northern Lights, and, of course, saw none. By all the indicators it was an absolutely epic week for seeing Northern Lights in Iceland that early January 2017. Unfortunately we were covered in a thick comforter of clouds the entire week, which made the days more desolate and beautiful and the days and nights warmer. 

My son and I stayed up as late as possible, taking turns going out for late night walks to try and find the Northern Lights. In the distance you can see the church where we first stopped upon reaching Holmavik (chronicled in an earlier post) where we were almost lifted off the ground by the howling winds.

Hallgrimskirkja

 Here's a picture taken during the endless night that is early January in Iceland, that doesn't begin to do justice to the beauty of the Hallgrimskirkja, the massive church dominating downtown Reykjavik, Iceland. Because of shorter winter open hours, and because my son and I were running round exploring other things all day, we sadly didn't get the chance to make it inside.

Museum of Sorcery and Witchcraft

 And more Iceland pictures back from the ether. I mentioned the Museum of Sorcery and Witchcraft in Holmavik before, but now let me post some pictures.  The woman who runs it, Thorin, and I are still friends on Facebook. The high point is doubtless the Necro-Pants, but it's all pretty entertaining. Plus, in the first week of January it's about the only place to get a meal in Holmavik - and Thorin is a great cook.

Upgraded to Dangerous

I've now included several posts, including this one, of one of my most favorite days (not surprisingly, duh). It was the day in northern Iceland when Gary and I took off for a long drive even further north along the coast. We had been considering it for a couple days but the road was closed; keep in mind that the trek was a dirt road perilously clinging to the edge of a mountain with nothing to keep you from sliding off into the North Sea - oh, and it was the first week of January. On our last full day in Holmavik the road designation was upgraded from Closed to Dangerous, and off we were. As I've discussed, we began and ended the day in thermal hotpots, but in between we embarked on the drive north. We were trying to reach another town, whose name I'll have to look up, but we never made it that far. Why we were going to the farther town is anybody's guess because I think the one hotel there, where we were allegedly going to eat, was almost certainly closed (why would it be open? the one road leading to it was closed, but we were optimistic - of course, we're also determined to visit the Democratic Republic of the Congo soon so I wouldn't trust our judgment). We managed to not slide into the North Sea, obviously, and about two-thirds of the way north we finally found an stretch of road wide enough for us to turn around, and, at least briefly, common sense reigned. 

Hot Water Cold Water

On the Iceland trip Gary and I took advantage of the natural springs, although doubtless not as many times as we should have. One one memorable day we began and ended the day in hot springs, the morning adventure I posted about previously. These pictures capture, poorly, our second dip, just as the sun was setting (which meant it was late afternoon). We were just following the coast and came across this little town where they had built more substantial tubs fueled by the natural springs. It was amazing to sit in them and look at the sea, which was about thirty feet away. We ended up talking to two young women in the next tub, both of whom were, not surprisingly, ogling my son (for which I gave him a fair amount of grief for not responding to them - his response was, "Was I just supposed to abandon you?" - my response, "Well, yeah, duh.").

This picture can't begin to do justice to how awe-inspiring it was to soak in the hot dog while listening to the crashing waves. I suppose if we were true Icelanders we would have alternated between the hot and cold water.

My son denies that he was bulked up. No one who sees this picture agrees.

Me, trying, and failing, to capture the mood of the place as the sun finally surrendered.

Some old dude in the water.

The Causeway

More "lost" pictures from Iceland that mysteriously - and thankfully - showed up out of the blue on Google Pictures. This is the causeway that we "missed" when we drove north because it was still dark. As we were driving I can remember having a discussion where we both had this feeling that if we could see what was on either side of us we'd be blown away by the beauty, but it was still hours before the sun would rise. As we drove back south we made sure to time it so that we could see what we were missing. And it was extraordinary. A couple of these pictures are nice, but they can't begin to do justice to it. 

Hellnar

Yes, even more rediscovered pictures from the Iceland trip, this time from Hellnar, a beautiful stretch along the coast. To paraphrase the esteemed Steve Wehmeyer, I can or cannot confirm that one of those rocks disappeared and mysteriously reappeared as a gift for my son. The wind was, naturally, howling, and it was one of many times when we had to very carefully open the car doors to avoid the gale from ripping them off. 

The boy looking awfully happy with life. Many times since then he's brought up how much he loved the trip and especially Hellnar.

As I've posted before, in about five minutes there was a total whiteout and we made it back to the nearby coffeeshop with no time to spare, where we had to wait out the storm and discuss what we were going to do if we were trapped there overnight.

Stark Beauty

I've proposed several times that Iceland may be the most beautiful place I've ever visited, and keep in mind that I was only there for a week in the absolute dead of winter when we only had around four hours of daylight a day. If anything the absolute barrenness of the environment made it more beautiful, some inexplicable and bizarre combination of humbling and breathtaking.

Hakarl

When in Rome, or Iceland, I guess . . . When Gary and I went to Iceland a couple years ago we felt that we had to go ahead, against our better judgment, to try the national dish, hakarl, fermented shark. It was pretty odious, but maybe it's an acquired taste. But, like I've often opined, once you've had donkey penis you really can't turn your nose up at anything.

It was served with a traditional Icelandic liquor, which I think was actually more odious than the hakarl. Generally, folks from Iceland possess a level of badassery that I simply don't possess.

Icelandic Phallological Museum

Initially I promised myself that I was not going to post pictures from the Icelandic Phallological Museum in Reykjavik, mainly because it was generally silly and has the feel of one of those museums which is designed to mainly sell t-shirts and shot glasses (both of which I purchased) but these pictures also arrived unexpectedly from the great boxer shorts of the beyond so I'm sharing them (against my better judgment). It's not as if you shouldn't go when you're in Reykjavik, because it's not a bad way to kill a little time while you're getting in our of the cold or waiting for a restaurant reservation, but don't expect to be blown away (phrasing).

Yes, that's a whale's penis, and it was as tall as me.

Penises (or at least the casts) donated by a successful Icelandic football team. That's some serious camaraderie, and doubtless some of them will spend the rest of their lives living this down.

Grabbing Lunch in Iceland

Sorry for the mad rush of brief (and tedious) pictures from the Iceland trip (which was inexplicably three and a half years ago) but who knows when these mystery pictures will disappear again. I've been thinking a lot about Iceland recently, probably because as the world is ending (personally and more globally) I naturally am drawn to a place where, of all the many places I've traveled, I felt the most clearly right on the edge of the world). This is another set of pictures from the last full day, and I think it was during this unscheduled lunch that we decided to not drive all the way back to Reykjavik after all and instead just spend the day cruising around the peninsula. I'm pretty certain that I also received a text from my Dad while we were eating lunch (it was my birthday).

The Rostin Restaurant, which we were stunned to find open in the middle of the oppressive Iceland winter. Mainly we just stopped by to check out the menu, and found it open. 

And a first rate burger. Later, and oddly, I ended up recommending it to an ex-student who was going to Iceland, and he and his family ate there.

And another picture of my son staring pensively out at the ocean.

Looking the Part

And another picture that returned from the great beyond, this one of Gary during one of the many times when it was so beautiful that we had to get out of the car (knowing that we only had four hours of daylight to play with) because we could simply not get out and look around.

Of all the picture I took of him on the trip this is the one where he just most completely looks like he's a native and I just stopped and asked him for directions.