Iceland, Day Three: Thursday, August 11, 2016

Today was a day for sleeping in, and the black-out blinds in our cozy little apartment in Reykjavik allowed us to do so, catching up on some of the sleep we’d still been feeling somewhat behind in. The plan had been to get to bed on time the night before . . . alas, the excitement of checking out our new lodgings kept everyone up later than intended. The girls loved their little room and the trundle bed they shared, and M and I were impressed with the perfect functionality and European charm of the space. Thanks to a quick stop at a grocery store when we rolled into town the night before, we had a quick and easy breakfast in our well-equipped kitchen (IKEA at its finest!), and then headed out for a day of exploring this wonderful capital city.

Our cozy kitchen in Reykjavik.

The girls loved their trundle bed!

Our small and utterly efficient bedroom had one entire wall of built-in cupboards, surely from IKEA or a similar store.

The hot water heaters reminded me fondly of my childhood homes in Germany and Switzerland. And the sliding door to our bedroom was both perfectly functional while having aesthetic appeal.

The living room was a perfect little spot to gather ourselves before another day of explorations. Well, perfect aside from the horse-hair rug, which we were truly not fans of!

Our apartment was very well located, and we could see the spire of the iconic Hallgrímskirkja over the tops of the surrounding rooves from our front window. This church, which stands guard over the city, seemed like a compass point for me as we meandered the city streets, always enabling us to find our way. Designed to resemble Iceland’s basalt lava flows, it took 34 years to build and was completed in 1974.

Father/Daughter shenanigans in front of the Hallgrímskirkja.

We enjoyed a delicious early lunch at Cafe Loki. Looking out the window at the Hallgrímskirkja felt completely surreal.

The Harbourfront was where our strolls took us next, and again we were struck by how clean and how free from most cities’ hustle and bustle Reykjavik is. We saw the ‘Sun Voyager’ sculpture by Jón Gunnar Árnason, so perfectly suited to its surroundings and the adventurous spirit and heritage of the country, and then made our way to Harpa, the city’s concert hall and conference centre. We marvelled at the dynamic architecture of this incredible building, beehive-like cells comprising the walls and ceilings in glass and mirror-like tiles. Initially going in to simply check things out, we wound up enjoying a 360-degree theatre experience featuring Iceland’s wonders, some of which we happily recognized from our travels thus far. The arts are very much alive and well in Reykjavik, and we saw countless galleries, public sculptures and murals during our visit.

The Sun Voyager.

Harpa concert hall and conference centre.

Inside Harpa.

One of many murals that we saw while meandering the streets of Reykjavik.

We spent some time simply wandering the streets of downtown Reykjavik, absorbing the feel of the nation's capital city.

The perfect spot for M, while us girls thoroughly enjoyed a piece of heaven next door . . .

. . . Eymundsson, a wondrous bookstore boasting seven floors!
(see 'Worthy Reads' post #1 for more details) 

Iceland's Government House, one of Reykjavik's oldest buildings, now houses the offices of the Prime Minister.

The remainder of our afternoon was spent at the Whales of Iceland museum. A fortuitous coupon find drew us in, and we were thrilled to see how engaged the girls became, spending a couple of hours learning about the various whales found in Icelandic waters through the exhibit’s informational and interactive elements while we did likewise.

Go to http://whalesoficeland.is/ for more information and 15% off of your entrance fee to the museum.

Day Four's adventures see us leaving the capital for some explorations of the Golden Circle. Stay tuned!

My wonder: Have you ever been to Reykjavik, and if so, what were some of the highlights of your stay? 

Thought of the Week: Kindness

"This is my simple religion.

There is no need for temples; 
no need for complicated philosophy.

Our own brain, our own heart is our temple;

the philosophy is kindness."

~ His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama

I've loved these words ever since I first read them. They're the key to such a simple, beautiful truth, a recipe for a world in which peace would surely reign if every person could only follow the philosophy. Upon reading them, I feel a little bit lighter, a little bit more hopeful, knowing that there are so many people in this world who do, indeed, feel this way, and I'm reignited with the desire to be the kindest version of myself that I possibly can.

My wonder: How do these words make you feel? Does this mantra strike a chord with you? Or if not, what is your "simple religion"?

Worthy Read #1: "Independent People" by Halldór Laxness

While in Reykjavik, Iceland this summer, I did what I do in pretty much every city or town I ever visit: I found a bookstore. And then I spent a lot of time in it. My daughters follow honestly in my footsteps and are passionate little readers as well. We've spent many contented hours in countless bookshops; they're most definitely one of our 'happy places'.

As the oldest and largest seller of books in Iceland, Eymundsson bookstores offer an extensive selection of reading materials, most, of course, in Icelandic. We visited the location in the city centre on Austurstræti 18, a marvel of seven levels in which to lose oneself. This store boasts an entire floor devoted to fulfilling all of your stationary needs, a cozy children's department in the basement, novels, magazines, gifts, music and DVDs, and a coffee chain called Te&Kaffi including an outdoor patio on one of the upper floors. Eymundsson and Te&Kaffi seem to have a marriage much like Chapters/Indigo enjoys with Starbucks in Canada.

Upon entering the shop, I was met with a large display of books by Halldór Laxness, Iceland's only Nobel laureate. Laxness won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 1955. I was excited to find copies of his works translated into a number of different languages, including English, and I decided upon 'Independent People', perhaps simply because of the picture on the cover featuring the ubiquitous sheep I was still determined to pet during out trip.

I love reading an author's work on his native soil. The experience lends the tale a dose of added authenticity and deeper meaning. This was most definitely the case as I read 'Independent People'. The harsh landscape painted by Laxness with compelling description acts upon the story as a secondary character might, and this character came to life for me as I read of sheep, mountains, sheep, valleys and hillsides, sheep, rivers and streams, and yet more sheep; yes, the tale is in large part about sheep. And the worms that plague them. But truly, Laxness writes about much more. So very much more. As the title suggests, the quest for independence lies at the core of Bjartur of Summerhouses, the story's main character, a proud, infuriatingly stubborn, hard-hearted, cantankerous crofter who works at all costs to avoid being in debt to anyone. This obsession drives him from his very foundation, fueling all that he does. Even the well-being of his family is willingly sacrificed. And yet there is respite from all that is grim and dour. Though the struggle of the peasantry for survival is essentially the vehicle driving the tale forward - and class and social standing are certainly themes as well - at the heart of the story are human relationships, the life-altering impacts we have on one another, and the unique condition of each human soul. These themes create moments of both heartbreak and redemption throughout the work as we watch Bjartur, his children, and all of the other perfectly crafted characters move through their lives stoically.

According to BBC Magazine, one in ten Icelanders will publish a book in their lifetime. This impressive statistic speaks to the country's passion for literacy and literature, surely.  Laxness may well be the pinnacle in terms of literary talent in Iceland, and his writing in "Independent People" is a wonderful mingling of Icelandic folklore, poetry, humour and tragedy. And love. If 'Independent People' is any indication of the writing this nation spawns, I do believe it's time I start spending more of my reading time enjoying the works of this Icelandic author, and perhaps begin to investigate that of some of the others.

My wonder: Have you read "Independent People" or any other works by Halldór Laxness? If so, what did you think? Have you ever read an author's work in the place where they either wrote it or hailed from, and did this impact your experience?

The Quest to Achieve Mindfulness through Yoga and Meditation

Mindfulness to me is the state of being present and calm, grateful for the now and all that this moment encapsulates. Thoughts, fears and anxieties about the past and future are common obstacles to enjoying this state, and I find that my own A-type personality often impedes my achievement of being truly mindful. Rereading my words here, several jump out which I ruefully acknowledge as being sure impediments for me: "quest", "achievement". I tend to be goal oriented and find great satisfaction in the completion of a task or project. I will cut myself some slack in acknowledging that these are not negative traits in all contexts of life, of course, but they can greatly hinder my own sense of mindfulness and savouring the present moment on a regular basis. If you're looking ahead to how you're going to get somewhere or complete and achieve something, it's very difficult to be savouring this moment, here and now.

My experience with yoga, meditation and mindfulness is varied, but lacks the depth and regularity that I would like to feel the benefits of. As a younger practitioner, I occasionally dropped into a class at a gym, or followed a televised or recorded class in my own home. Pre-natal yoga was something I also engaged in on occasion as an expectant mother, but the practice was always something that felt more like an add-on, fit in where I could manage it, and it was always superseded by my running.

Feeling the need for greater balance in my life both physically and spiritually during the dawn of motherhood, I began going to a regular weekly yoga class when my eldest daughter, H, was just a toddler. A fellow educator and I attended a class held in the backroom of a church, simple yet full of daylight which streamed through the wall of windows behind us. We joked that, combining our skill set, we could together make one decent yogi, physically speaking. She was the flexible one, a physical skill I lack in many areas, and I seemed to have better-than-average balance along with some strength. Eventually, though we both thoroughly enjoyed the class, I found the stress of finding care for H and then racing across town to get to class on time outweighed the benefits reaped; after all, wasn't a major point of my going to reduce stress rather than increase it? Sporadic yoga practice ensued, during which I again simply fit it in when I could by more or less doing my own thing at home.

Years later, a neighbour friend and I began going to hot yoga classes together at a Bikram facility. Again, though I felt fleeting moments of inner peace and most definitely began to feel the benefits of increased flexibility in incremental measurements, I still struggled with attendance. The class was late in the evening and we were both already exhausted from a full day of work and motherhood; by now I was Mommy to my two girls. I was giving up what small amount of time my husband and I had at the end of a day. And the heat . . . in the words of Elaine of 'Seinfeld' fame, "My God, the heat!" I craved cool breezes and icy glasses of lemonade while in the sweat-drenched chamber, my nostrils filled with the stench of feet, my skin soaked in my own perspiration and, distressingly, often that of the person next to me, as beads of sweat flew off of them onto me. The most delicious part was stepping outside into the cold Canadian winter after the 90-minute class, relishing the snowflakes on my face and the bitter wind on my hot skin. We found ourselves canceling more and more often, and eventually stopped attending altogether.

Thanks to some talented colleagues and a mindfulness workshop for teachers in which I participated, I began bringing yoga and mindfulness techniques into my Kindergarten classroom a number of years ago. The practice had wonderfully calming effects on my students, noticeably enhancing their abilities to self-regulate their emotions and thus their behaviour. A variety of wonderful books (future post planned during which I'll share some of my fave resources in this area) helped introduce many of the concepts that I wanted to impart to these young learners, and I found that these times of the day were often my very favourite in the classroom. Many parents of my students also raved about the impact this practice was having on their children. I had to smile with satisfaction when one such Mom shared with me how much her son missed yoga now that he was in Grade One, and that she was going to begin the practice with him in their home.

More recently, I have increased my time on the mat by doing yoga in the comfort of my own home using instructional videos as my teacher on a near-daily basis, typically in the mornings, though sometimes also at night. This practice has enabled me to begin and/or end my day more mindfully, and suits my schedule fairly well. I do enjoy being around other practitioners at times, and have also attended some classes that a talented friend of mine leads in her studio. My hope is to begin attending a regular class in order to extend my practice, and to continue practising at home as well. Having more time on my hands than usual these days, of course, could make this much easier, but I am trying to create a routine for myself which I will, in all hopes, be able to continue when I'm back to teaching next year.

As for meditation, I feel that I've done more reading about it than actual practise. Most of my experience with some form of meditating comes at the end of a yoga session, and otherwise comprises five- to ten-minute bouts of attempted serenity. My thoughts typically swirl madly in my head during these moments. My internal voice most definitely needs quieting. I tell myself that I am a work in progress, and that every moment in attempted meditation is a good one, even when I'm overwhelmed by a tsunami of thought. 

Here's some exciting news: I'm going on a week-long Yoga and Meditation Retreat in Maine in October! A friend of mine and I had spoken about doing this sort of thing nearly a year ago, and this summer we committed to choosing a retreat and enrolling. We are attending Rolling Meadows, described as "a 100 acre yoga and meditation retreat centre over-looking the hills of coastal Maine." Check out the website below if you're interested in learning more.

http://rollingmeadowsretreat.com/

Stay tuned to hear about the details of this adventure in mindfulness (is that an oxymoron??) and silence . . . oh yes, did I mention that it's a silent retreat?!?! I'm prepared to be humbled and challenged, that's for certain.

Namaste.

My wonder: How do you fit yoga, meditation and/or mindfulness techniques into your busy daily life? 

Iceland, Day Two: Wednesday, August 10, 2016

The sleep we’d all earned during our epic first day was, indeed, granted us at Bergþórshvoll. Located well off the Ring Road, we pulled up to the remote farm in the near-dark of night and were warmly greeted by the owner, two border collies and the friendliest little goat imaginable. Whether it was the contrast between the cozy duvet covers that we were snuggled under in our guest room cots and the designed-to-inhibit-sleep airplane seats of the night before, or the sheer exhaustion we all felt after such a full day, the night’s rest left us feeling entirely refreshed. As we ate a delicious breakfast featuring home-baked Icelandic breads, including “loveballs”, a traditional Icelandic pastry somewhat reminiscent of what all Canadians fondly know to be Timbits, though not nearly as sweet, we learned about the farm’s 200+ sheep and some of their endearing quirks from our hosts. We were all a bit sad to leave and dragged out a rather lengthy goodbye with our new friend, the goat, affectionately named “Kitty Kitty” by E. The sweet four-legged creature ran down the laneway with my girls when they emerged from the farmhouse, no less eager or energetic than a loyal family dog would have. Though we hadn’t given up, this little fellow came near to satisfying my quest to pet a sheep!

Sign for Bergþórshvoll, the wonderful farm where we stayed in a guesthouse on our first night in Iceland.

Making new friends.

It was noted by a brilliant friend that this cute little goat is captivatingly reminiscent of some of my Kindergarten students. . . the size and mischievous twinkle in its eye are surely the reason!

Most of this second day’s adventures were focused in a smaller geographical area than yesterday’s (thank heaven!), as we stayed within about an hour of the farm for much of the day. Skógafoss, a cascading waterfall whose mists we were coated in, was just the first of many splendours that we saw on this memorable wedding anniversary of ours. Yes, M’s and my 14th anniversary was celebrated wondrously indeed! We continued to climb the stairs etched into the hillside and hiked along the river surrounded by hills and mountains for several hours. 

This beautiful roadside church that we passed on our drive to Skógafoss reminded me of Austria, and had me singing, "The hills are alive, with the sound of music" :) 

Skógafoss

E enjoys a few mindful moments in the meadows above Skógafoss. 

From there we drove on to the small town of Vik, where we lunched and then walked along the misty beach. The shoreline offered up a dramatic scene as the rough North Atlantic waves crashed upon the black volcanic sand, white froth meeting dark earth. Reynisdrangur, the towering pillars of black rock just off the coast, were shrouded in waves of mist on this windy day.

View of Vik as seen from the beach.

Black volcanic sand at Vik.

The towering pillars of Reynisdrangur off the coast.

Happily hopping from rock to rock.

We were giggling hysterically as my non-techie self tried to take a selfie of the three of us AND Reynisdrangur amidst the wind and rain!

Sweet little viking.

One final stop was made at Dyrhólaey just a short way down the coast. A striking rock arch in the water is one of the highlights at this protected nature area, but there are thousands of others, and they’re flying, swimming and resting all around the cliffs and shoreline: puffins! I’m quite certain that even the dourest soul would brighten in these adorable birds’ presence!

Dyrhólaey

The pillars of Reyisdrangur are visible in the distance from Dyrhólaey.

Puffins!!

Following the day’s explorations, we drove to Reykjavik, the capital city we were eager to discover. We looked forward to settling into our rented apartment and to carving out a little home-away-from-home. 

My wonder: Have you ever been to Iceland? What were your impressions?