This morning I watched the sun rise in Iceland. I watched it rise while huddled inside my fleece vest and down jacket just outside of Reykjavik International Airport in Keflavik (not to be confused with Reykjavik Domestic Airport... in Reykjavik).
And what a perfect sunrise it was.
I am having trouble deciding on a title for this post- a line of thought not entirely unrelated to the previous sentence. I could call it 'The Perfect Sunrise,'- but no, that's too Hemingway, and too pretentious. I could call it 'The Morning After the Sleepless Night, 30,000 Feet Above Sea Level,'- but no, that's too much a mouthful.
What I have seriously considered settling on is 'The Salt of the Earth.' Because when you step outside of the airport, you don't just smell clean, clean, unreasonably clean! air, you smell clean air with a lick of salt riding the wind. This is an island- of course you can smell salt. But I believe the difference here, as opposed to any other salt-ridden air I have scented, is the age of it. The landscape here (yes I realize the pretentiousness of this statement considering I have been 'here' not even a full 24 hours) is saturated with time, with age, with tradition and ancient meaning. This land defines the word 'primordial.'
God how INTENSE it is. How intense that first impression was. To the point that it no longer qualifies as an impression but instead as an imprint that is lingering in every fiber of my being. Yes, I am dramatic. But let's face it- that's why you read this blog.
And that is why you keep reading it even though (while it occasionally fronts as a travel blog) I rarely post photos. Here I must admit that while I am dramatic, I am nothing if not brutally honest. And in all honesty, I took incredibly shit photos today. Which is somewhat disappointing considering I did the one touristy thing that everyone does in Iceland- I visited and had a dip in the Blue Lagoon. I even gave myself a silica mud facial.
So simple written descriptions will have to suffice again, my Friends.
Much love to you all, from my outpost here in the North.
ps. Spellcheck just suggested that while I wrote 'Keflavik', I probably meant 'Cleavage'. Which should, realistically, be the working title of the post.
And what a perfect sunrise it was.
I am having trouble deciding on a title for this post- a line of thought not entirely unrelated to the previous sentence. I could call it 'The Perfect Sunrise,'- but no, that's too Hemingway, and too pretentious. I could call it 'The Morning After the Sleepless Night, 30,000 Feet Above Sea Level,'- but no, that's too much a mouthful.
What I have seriously considered settling on is 'The Salt of the Earth.' Because when you step outside of the airport, you don't just smell clean, clean, unreasonably clean! air, you smell clean air with a lick of salt riding the wind. This is an island- of course you can smell salt. But I believe the difference here, as opposed to any other salt-ridden air I have scented, is the age of it. The landscape here (yes I realize the pretentiousness of this statement considering I have been 'here' not even a full 24 hours) is saturated with time, with age, with tradition and ancient meaning. This land defines the word 'primordial.'
God how INTENSE it is. How intense that first impression was. To the point that it no longer qualifies as an impression but instead as an imprint that is lingering in every fiber of my being. Yes, I am dramatic. But let's face it- that's why you read this blog.
And that is why you keep reading it even though (while it occasionally fronts as a travel blog) I rarely post photos. Here I must admit that while I am dramatic, I am nothing if not brutally honest. And in all honesty, I took incredibly shit photos today. Which is somewhat disappointing considering I did the one touristy thing that everyone does in Iceland- I visited and had a dip in the Blue Lagoon. I even gave myself a silica mud facial.
So simple written descriptions will have to suffice again, my Friends.
Much love to you all, from my outpost here in the North.
ps. Spellcheck just suggested that while I wrote 'Keflavik', I probably meant 'Cleavage'. Which should, realistically, be the working title of the post.
How about "The sleepless sunrise, or how Iceland greeted me."
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