Iceland: Tales from the Land of Elves and Trolls

Emma thought she was ready for anything when she made the decision to live in Iceland for a year. She had also taken a few language classes, watched documentaries, and read travel guides. However, nothing could have prepared her for the bizarre practices and customs she would observe in this land of fire and ice.

On an unexpectedly warm April day, she had her first taste of Icelandic culture shock. Emma was astonished when her neighbors began sunbathing in bikinis when the thermometer read a rare 10 degrees Celsius (50 degrees Fahrenheit). From her window, she was astonished to see entire families laying out towels on their small lawns to take in the weak sun. In England, where she was born, such temperatures would barely necessitate taking off a jacket, much less engaging in a full-on sunbathing session.

One of Emma’s first friends in Iceland was Freyja, a vivacious woman who invited her to spend a weekend at her family’s summer cabin. Emma soon discovered that almost every Icelandic family owned a summer cabin, a retreat frequently visited to escape the demands of daily life. The cabin was nestled in a picturesque valley, surrounded by mountains still capped with snow, a stark contrast to the green meadows below.

On their way to the cabin, they passed other hikers and cyclists. Freyja greeted each one with a cheerful “good morning” or “good evening,” depending on the time of day. Emma found this tradition charming but unusual, as back home, strangers often passed without a word.

During her stay, Emma witnessed another unique aspect of Icelandic life: the passionate discussions about snow. As light flurries began to fall, Freyja and her family engaged in a lively debate about the type of snow. Was it hjarn (granular snow) or slabb (wet snow)? Emma couldn’t tell the difference, but the Icelanders argued with the fervor of sports fans.

Speaking of sports, football was another revelation. Almost every Icelander watched it religiously. Emma found herself in the midst of an impromptu party as the family gathered around the television, cheering on their team with a level of enthusiasm that bordered on obsession.

One evening, Freyja’s brother Bjorn brought out a plate of dried fish. “A delicacy,” he declared proudly. Emma tried to mask her initial hesitation as she nibbled on the chewy treat. It was salty and fishy, quite unlike anything she had tasted before. But the pride in Bjorn’s eyes made her smile and nod approvingly.

The next day, as they explored the surrounding area, Freyja told Emma about the local traditions and beliefs. She spoke of the elves and trolls, ancient creatures woven into the fabric of Icelandic folklore. Emma was fascinated by the tales of the Huldufólk (hidden people) and the mischievous elves who supposedly lived in the rocks and hills.

Emma was especially intrigued by the story of the Jólakötturinn (Christmas Cat), a monstrous feline that would devour children who didn’t receive new clothes for Christmas. Freyja laughed as she recounted the tale, explaining that the Christmas Cat was owned by Grýla and Leppalúði, trolls who were also the parents of Iceland’s thirteen Santa Clauses. Grýla, she said, was known for kidnapping and eating misbehaving children.

As summer approached, Emma experienced the communal joy of the season’s first truly warm day. The temperature reached a balmy 14 degrees Celsius, and it seemed the entire nation took a break from work to bask in the sunlight. Parks and beaches were filled with people enjoying the fleeting warmth, a celebration Emma had never seen back home.

Despite the occasional warm days, snow was a constant presence. It snowed from August to June, creating a stark white landscape that was both beautiful and daunting. Emma was struck by the sturdiness of Icelandic houses, built like fortresses to withstand frequent earthquakes. Each time the ground trembled, she marveled at the resilience and engineering of these structures.

One of the more peculiar customs Emma encountered was the public announcement of toilet breaks. During a meeting at work, a colleague stood up and loudly declared their intention to use the restroom, asking for permission to do so. Emma stifled a giggle, noting the serious nods of acknowledgment from others.

Dating in Iceland was another story altogether. It was rare and formal, unlike the casual outings Emma was used to. Blind dates were virtually nonexistent, and the idea of meeting someone new in such a manner seemed alien to the locals.

Swimming pools were another cultural surprise. In Iceland, it was customary to shower without clothes in communal areas before entering the pool. Emma, initially taken aback by the lack of privacy, soon found it liberating and a testament to the Icelanders’ pragmatic approach to life.

Drinking milk with every meal was another Icelandic quirk. It accompanied everything from breakfast cereals to dinner. Emma had never seen adults consume so much milk and found it oddly comforting.

One particularly memorable day involved Emma’s discovery of Icelanders’ love for sauces. At an ice cream shop, she was astounded by the variety of sauces available—six different types for a single scoop of ice cream. This love extended to meals, where hundreds of different sauces could accompany any dish.

Barbecues were a common sight, regardless of the weather. Rain, wind, or snow couldn’t deter an Icelander from firing up the grill. Emma found their resilience and love for outdoor cooking admirable.

Parties were another matter entirely. Icelanders partied late into the night, and camping near them meant little sleep. Emma learned this the hard way during a weekend trip, but she couldn’t help but admire their stamina and zest for life.

Despite the cold weather, Icelandic houses were always warm. The geothermal heating ensured that no matter how freezing it was outside, the inside remained cozy. This made the long winters more bearable and the homes inviting.

Elves and trolls were more than just myths. Belief in these creatures was ingrained in the culture, with stories passed down through generations. Emma was captivated by the folklore, finding a new appreciation for the magical landscape around her.

The thirteen Santa Clauses and the Christmas Cat, owned by the troll couple Grýla and Leppalúði, were part of a rich Christmas tradition. Emma marveled at these tales, so different from the ones she grew up with.

The Icelanders' relationship with their environment was profound. They revered their natural resources, from the pristine water to the moss-covered landscapes. Emma learned never to step on the moss, a lesson reinforced by the tale of Justin Bieber’s infamous music video, which led to part of a park being closed due to tourists damaging the delicate moss.

Winter fashion was another revelation. Despite the thick, heavy coats necessary for warmth, Icelanders managed to stay fashionable, appearing like giants bundled against the cold. Emma admired their ability to combine practicality with style.

The complexity of the Icelandic language also fascinated her. Nouns had 16 different variations due to conjugation, a challenge for any newcomer. Emma’s attempts at learning the language were met with patient smiles and helpful corrections.

Tourism was the top industry, and Emma saw firsthand how it shaped the country. The influx of visitors brought both opportunities and challenges, but the Icelanders’ pride in their culture and environment shone through.

Emma found that Icelanders enjoyed ice cream in any weather, a tradition she quickly adopted. Whether in a snowstorm or on a rare hot day, ice cream was a treat that transcended the climate.

By the end of her year, Emma had fallen in love with Iceland. The taboos and quirks she initially found strange had become endearing parts of her daily life. The land of ice and fire had taught her to embrace the unexpected and find beauty in the most unusual places.

Moral of the story: Embracing the unique customs and traditions of a new culture can lead to profound personal growth and a deeper appreciation for the diversity of our world. By stepping out of our comfort zones, we learn to see the world through a new lens and find joy in the unfamiliar.