Iceland: Crossroads of Bliss & Beauty

It’s a warm, July night. Midnight. But outside my window, the million stars and perfect circle of the moon aren’t there. Strangely, a bright sunlight pours into my room as I spread the drapes. Bizarre? Maybe in Maryland, but not here—the capital of the only island as oddly-shaped as Maryland itself, Reykjavik. In Iceland, summers have up to twenty-two hours of sunlight per day. I always wonder, “What time is it, anyway?”

From my third floor of five-star Hotel Esja, the windows reveal a panorama of Faxaflói Bay, lying less than five hundred feet ahead. Swimmers flock there. To the left side is a hazy view of the towering Mount Esja, a volcano dormant for thousands of years. Tourists stand before it, jaw-dropped and speechless as if face-to-face with the Mona Lisa. Why? This sight is more stunning than the mundane American creations as the Washington Monument, the Statue of Liberty, or even Mount Rushmore. Nature pushes these structures aside to prevail as a work of art unaffected by human contact.

A co-traveler to Iceland and a friend of mine, Kellyn Hickey, said, “Everyone is beautiful in Iceland. If you’re not beautiful, you’re probably banished from the country.” Although the government doesn’t banish unattractive people, there are no unattractive Icelanders. Every innate man, woman, and child has perfect blond hair—whether wavy, curly, straight, whatever. Their light blue, penetrating eyes make you want to stare forever, and their perfect row of white teeth make each of them qualified for a modeling contract.