Waking Up at Home (in Iceland)

After spending a week and a half traveling around Iceland and waking up in a new place each day, I’m grateful to have had nearly a week’s worth of wake-ups at my Workaway family’s home in Hvolsvöllur (pronounced kvolvjkasnweasjdkf;as)*, a tiny town in the south of Iceland, about an hour and 15 minutes drive from the capital, Reykjavik. Most mornings, I wake up around 7am to the sound of toddlers scream-singing Frère Jacques in Icelandic, but today I’m up at 5am, so it’s my turn to be an incidental alarm clock with the click-clack of my keyboard. (I really hope I don’t wake anyone up. Yesterday I woke up to the sound of a Lego dropping, so I know what’s possible. (Also, I do have earplugs, but I don’t use them because I like being woken up like this! I’m not complaining, just recounting. (Also, also, I’m deciding to lean into my over-usage of parentheses. It’s my thing like how e.e. cummings’ thing is to not use capitals.)))

I feel very much at home. My room here is slightly bigger (possibly an optical illusion because of the twin bed) and slightly cozier than my room in NYC. I have a big fluffy comforter, a warmly lit lamp on my bedside table, and a giant window, the sill of which is lined with plants, rocks, and candles. Even more importantly than feeling physically comfortable, I feel incredibly welcome in this family. They are people I would choose to be around even if I didn’t have a Workaway position (which I will explain more two paragraphs from now!). In our first dinner conversation, I asked, “How did you two meet,” and they launched into the juicy long answer (just how I like my answers), which launched us into other thought- and laugh-provoking talks about life and religion and family and how to fix toxic masculinity (just how I like my talks). They are loving, honest, generous, humble, and smart and they have an almost-5 and an all-the-way-3-year-old who don’t speak english, but do speak “Monster,” wheelbarrow walks, and Ring Around the Rosie. I got a good review from the older brother, who allegedly said, “Wow, Mom, she’s really something!” and later asked how to say “You’re fun” in english, so he could tell me. My heart melted, unlike like the ice cream he was begging for via an hour-long limit-testing crying fit when I babysat him (it stayed in the freezer where it belonged because I’m not a push-over).

Here is my cozy view from my cozy room.

Last night, the dad (I don’t want to say their names because that feels privacy-invading, but you could probably figure out their identities pretty easily because this town has a population of 17*) asked if he could ask me a personal question, “Do you take Adderall or something for ADHD?” “No, why.” “It’s just that you’re very energetic and I’m trying to figure out if it’s natural or chemical.” After grabbing my notebook to record this hilarious quote, I assured him it was natural, but that I could tone it down if it ever got annoying. “No, no, we like it! It’s quite entertaining, even!” Phew! I really don’t know how I would have toned it down to be honest.

So what am I doing here?! There’s an incredible website called workaway.info, where you can find a variety of hosts around the world offering free room and board to volunteers in exchange for 4-5 hours of work per day. Before coming to Iceland, I had lined up this position, which I was particularly drawn to because of the glowing reviews other Workaway volunteers left about the family. Coming into the experience, all I knew is that I would be doing general house-tidying, kid-watching, and dinner-cooking, but I’ve gotten to do so much more! They own a little shop that sells local products made in Iceland, like handmade scarves, sweaters, and jewelry, and I’ve gotten to volunteer there, making cute little tags for their products and meeting all of the interesting people who come into the store. I even got a ride into Reykjavik from a Canadian couple from Quebec whom I had seen there two days in a row (this was technically my second hitchhiking experience—both times were with Canadians—the first one is going to get its own blown-out blog post, so sit tight). My intuition could not have drawn me to better people! One of them is the manager of a Michaels’ craft store and the other is a nurse working in palliative care. We had such a fun ride into town and they walked me right up to the bar I was going to be performing at later that night so I would know where I was going. On the way, we stopped for coffee, which I insisted on buying for them, but they insisted harder on buying it for me! Who does that—picks up a hitchhiker and TREATS THEM TO COFFEE?! Canadians in Iceland, that’s who. (Thank you, Canada. We don’t deserve you.)

This was the first sunset I saw at my Hvolsvöllur home! I saw how beautiful it was from the kitchen window, and even though I was helping cut carrots for dinner (which in theory I was supposed to be making, but was being made for me), Rebekka made me run outside to go see it from this beautiful open field a few blocks away from their home. I was just as moved by her desire for me to see the sunset as I was by the sunset itself!

In writing this, I’m remembering one of my intentions in making this lifestyle change is to feel what home feels like when I’m in a variety of places, with a variety of people, testing the limits of my comfort zone. Is it possible to feel at home wherever I am? What do I need to feel at home and safe? I’ve felt different levels of “at home”-ness ever since leaving my NYC apartment and I’m learning what tiny details make me feel comfortable even when I’m in an objectively uncomfortable situation—like when I spent the night in the back of a camper van without a sleeping bag, underneath an emergency blanket (thanks for the gift 5 years ago, Mom!) and every piece of clothing I had in my backpack, I felt safe with my travel companion who told me to wake her up if I needed anything and turn on the car heater anytime if I felt cold (I didn’t, but it was nice to know I could!). I’ve been trying to figure out a good way to talk about the various legs of my journey thus far, and this seems like an appropriate lens through which to view them. How have I felt at home all over the place? Now that I have semi-permanent physical “home,” (at least until November 3rd), I have some time to dive into the past month and a half and share all about it. Stay tuned for more!

*This is my first time spelling Hvolsvöllur correctly without looking it up! Still working on pronouncing it correctly. After yet another coaching session with Rebekka, we've decided it's KHVOLsvutlur.

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