Entry 2: June 24, 2008

Saddling Up for the First Time

Horseback riding is something I thought I would never in a million years experience, however today I took advantage of an opportunity to do such and through grabbing the chance that lay before I was granted an extremely enjoyable afternoon full of adventure and excitement.

Growing up on the coast I have never found myself yearning to climb on the back of a horse before, for I have always found boats, automobiles, surfboards, and my flip flopping feet to be adequate modes of transportation. However, here in Iceland and apparently in other parts of North Carolina, horseback riding is a way of life, for I found myself next to only one other girl on this outing, who not surprisingly is also from the coast, as a first time rider.

I must admit I was nervously excited as I clipped my riding helmet for I compared what I was about to encounter to my first time riding a bicycle without training wheels. Although, it was also explained to me that while I should compare the event that was about to take place to something comfortable, a bicycle is in my control, it does not have a mind of its own. Taking deep breathes I walked towards what was about to become my transportation for the next two hours. With the cheering support of the rest of the group and of course the ranch hand I boldly saddled up, the only thought racing through my mind at this moment in time was, “I have just accomplished what I thought to be the impossible.” After a quick lesson from the rest of the group on how to hold my feet in the stirrups, how to hold the reins, and I needed to correct my posture I suddenly found myself no longer nervous but rather just anxious to move forward. However, before I could move I felt it necessary to talk to my horse and forewarn her that I was in fact new to this and that I would appreciate it if she would take it slow with me. As I wrapped up my conversation the rest of the group was proceeding towards the road away from the ranch, “this is it” I thought as I and Feminista [I proudly named her Feminista because I wished for her to be gentle and understanding but at the same time to hold personality and spunk] started to trot. My initial reaction of course was to latch on for dear life, but I soon found we were the second to last in line and hardly moving. As we crossed the road and went down into a small ditch onto the pathway I found myself at ease. For, Feminista knew what she was doing, this is her livelihood, I just needed to relax and let her go on her own path, which I must add to foreshadow a bit she did.

The pathway was diverse, filled with stone, grass, and sand, which led me to feel slightly uncomfortable as we trotted through each one. I presume about twenty minutes into the trip Feminista became tired of being second to last. Because I suddenly found myself galloping at an extremely rapid pace, again going with instinct I first screamed and then latched onto the reins trying to slow down, obviously a horse does not have anti-lock breaks, but I figured it was worth a shot to at least attempt to stop. She must have felt my panic-stricken body tighten up because she soon returned to her nice gentle pace, for I inferred through this experience she was testing me more than I was testing her. I maintained a nice comfortable pace with a ‘slow and steady wins the race’ attitude. Nevertheless, as her name infers Feminista soon became tired of being towards the back yet this time we sprinted to gain lost ground when compared to the position of the rest of the group. While I was thrown off guard at first, I soon found running to be exhilarating, I felt like a cowboy back in the mid 19th century, and afterwards compared myself to legendary cowboy movie star John Wayne. As the wind hit me in the face I felt alive and no longer terrified, my inhibitions were lost as we raced to the middle of the group to socialize with others. It was at this point in the journey I started to relax even more and enjoy the landscape surrounding me.

The landscape during the beginning of the trail was open rolling fields with mountains of rocks to the left. Modest, Mount Hekla sat beautifully to my right with a slight view of the river as well. Yet, towards the ending of the trial as we were climbing up the hills, we were granted a magnificent view of Skalholt church. As the sun beat down upon it, it has not looked so marvelous in the entirety of my time here. It is also during my observation of the landscape that Feminista found it acceptable to gallop amongst the other riders, cutting them off. Of course, by this time I was relaxed enough to trust her and my only fear was her slipping on a rock and me flipping head first over her. I also found that she enjoyed taking the road less traveled on the path, as the rest of the group single filed up a hill we would venture off to the side next to them, which demonstrated her rebellious side, which of course was ok with me. Nevertheless, I finished the excursion galloping, trotting and running all the way back to the ranch.

I look at my first horseback riding experience in a positive light. For, I have overcome many firsts here in Iceland, and this one tour is just another first I can check off on my list of life firsts. I feel that Feminista and I shared a special bond because it seemed as if our personalities matched well, never wanting to be last we forged ahead testing one another, learning one another, while still showing respect. She allowed me to throw my inhibitions aside and trust her instinct, illustrating to me that she is experienced in the trail and with inexperienced riders. It is due to the positive vibe that I gained from this experience that, I look forward to riding again whenever the opportunity arises.

Entry 1: June 17, 2008
Celebrating the Succession from the Danes

Today I ventured to Fluthir to celebrate Iceland’s independence from Denmark. I must admit it feels a bit strange to me as an American to be celebrating Independence Day on the seventeenth of June. For, I say this only because I have spent the past nineteen years of my life eating hot dogs, waving a flag, picnicking in sundresses, and watching fireworks burst in the night sky to celebrate the formation of the United States on the fourth of July. While it feels rather awkward for me to be celebrating the independence of this great nation, I cannot help but look upon the situation of attending a community celebration and see the parallels between American celebrations and Icelandic ones.

As an American citizen when I hear the word “independence” spoken, I automatically digress back to American history classes and instantaneously scream in my mind “No taxation without representation!” I associate the founding of our country to the Boston Tea Party, George Washington, the Declaration of Independence, and “Give me liberty or give me death!” Alongside historical “accounts,” I also refer to pop culture symbols such as Mel Gibson’s role in “The Patriot,” ice cream, hot dogs oozing with chili and coleslaw, children running through turning sprinklers, and bursting colorful fireworks, all of which embody the recognition of national independence from England. Moreover, while Americans may feel they are the only ones who celebrate with such “style” I found today they are not, for Icelanders commemorate the day almost exactly as Americans do.

For my excursion to Fluthir led me to a communal gathering filled with young Icelanders running races, local leaders speaking, citizens walking around consuming “lamb” dogs and ice cream, and instead of holding a grand finale of booming fireworks, a soap box derby race amongst the children took place. While everything seems to be the exact, same here in Iceland as far as its independence observance is concerned I know they have not enjoyed a rich history of independence as America has. For they did not gain Independence until 1944, meaning residents have only been enjoying a day such as today for sixty-four years. Yet, at the same time, I feel as the lack of independence and sovereignty has not hindered Icelanders from preserving a rich cultural history and maintaining a strong cultural identity. For, unlike America Iceland is not a melting pot of all different nations so the preservation of Danish ties and Icelandic literature, customs, and language is just as prevalent today as it was under Danish rule.

Through understanding such a connection between nations, I felt as though I experienced the culture on a deeper level today. For, it is not everyday that one is allotted the opportunity to witness first hand another nations Independence festivities and rarely is one granted the occasion of gaining insight into the few cultural differences that set their own culture apart from another.