Becoming More Who You Are: A Sorta Book Review of Nigel Nicholson's Unique You

A few months ago, I received an email by Nigel Nicholson claiming his book and approach would be of interest to me. He based this assumption on the output of this blog. He was absolutely right. The book in question is entitled Unique You: How Individuality Works and Why it Matters, and it is about our unique identity and the different states and stages of not only reaching it but also operating from it or to put it in a less business jargony term, how to live life accordingly.

And of course it matters immensely. I agree that being yourself (whatever that means) may not be enough but that life’s purpose and the mission of each being is to become and stay true to one’s own true self, one’s essence, or to put it even more mysteriously, to become who one is meant to be and fulfill one’s unique destiny.  

All this is – at least in my mind – quite different from being your best self or the best version of yourself. Essentially, there is a vital difference here. Your best version may be someone you wish to be or become; if that aligns with who you are, then it could be helpful. But when it is in conflict with your true essence, it will only create pain and heartache and might be the exact opposite of being yourself. In that case, it would be closer to pretending to be someone else and akin to wearing a mask. More on this later as I would provide examples and accentuate and differentiate it with reflections offered from Nigel‘s outstanding book. At that point, I shall also try to differentiate my own views from Jung’s individuation process.

I think a great starting point and a necessary step would be to carve out your own tendencies and preferences versus the reservoir that is accumulated and heaped upon you from your parents, cultural and social upbringing etc. Imagine a Venn diagram where you would include on one side “me” and on the other side “not me” and see what traits, values, and beliefs you share with your entourage (or “Umwelt” as Nigel puts it) as opposed to what are essentially the views, dreams, wishes, and desires of family members and loved ones but have little to do with your true essence or calling.

And yet, the discovery or the unearthing of yourself is still not equivalent with fully being and embracing yourself as you are. The ideas and notions you have of yourself may serve as a roadmap and may point at or rather to the journey, but it is far from reaching one’s destination. The destination or destiny is living authentically from the heart’s soul and like any objective or end goal, it is merely a stepping stone in this experience or experiment called life. Knowing who you are (already a nearly impossible feat) would mean to start living on a higher level or to put it differently being in alignment with what and who you truly are as opposed to what you or others think you are or how you ought to be.

In his book, Nigel focuses on a narrative framework, and I think he is spot on in that regard although we diverge on certain points, beliefs, and definitions. He claims that our individual lives consist of 4 Ds: Destiny, Drama, Development, and Deliberation. His understanding of destiny is very different from mine as he sees it as your starting point and it includes to varying degrees your genetics, your family, and your birthplace, which can be intimately linked to culture, religion, values, and so forth.

I appreciate his focus on what shapes us individually, a kind of blueprint that may or may not become real but that to a sizable extent tends to shape our reality and our experience of this world. Our DNA is as unique as we are; it is truly one of a kind. It is essential to our essence and our core identity; however, it is not fully set or activated from the get-go and is malleable to certain degrees.

This is the onset of the journey as Nigel claims. But for me, destiny is two-fold as it is not necessarily or merely something we are writing and creating in our lifetime, but it is pre-written in some shape and form in the stars. In that sense, fate is something that we create but that is also created for us. The relevant take-way is that it is all suited and tailored to our own individual existence and, in some cases, even not fulfilling our destiny can serve as a wake-up call to change our ways and transform us into the person and being we are meant to be and become in the first place.

From destiny, we move to the second D, namely Drama. Life is filled with it, and it does not help that we often consciously or unconsciously keep adding to it, somewhat like pouring gasoline on an already burning fire. By drama, we mean all the challenges and obstacles that we face, and they vary by region, age, time period, social and economic status, and what-have-you. Although the degree and extent will vary, all of us will have to deal with drama whether we want to or not; no one’s immune to it, no matter where you live or how much money you have in your bank account.

Try as you may, you cannot fully prepare for it nor see it coming. There is the unexpected that looms over our heads like the sword of Damocles with its wide array of incidents and accidents, including but not limited to a sudden dismissal at work, betrayals, break-ups, heartaches, and the real or figurative loss of lovers, friends, and family members. And this is only the drama that affects you in your Umwelt; add to it, natural disasters, wars and pandemics, recessions, and the list goes on.

But drama is not all bad. In fact, it tests our mettle and brings our own unique personality to the forefront, which becomes apparent by the way we end up dealing with these situations. In a sense, your character (mettle) is then tested and revealed, and more often than not, we will not get it right the first time around, but it is a learning process nonetheless, admittedly not one that we necessarily asked or looked for in the first place.

In fact, drama blends in with the next stage, development. This can happen unconsciously where we repeat patterns or mistakes versus when we choose to respond and adapt to situations differently, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. Yet throughout, we are in movement while at the same time, there is potential growth within us and within each given situation. It is certainly there, whether we see and seize it or not.

And that brings us to the final D, deliberation. This is the moment of epiphany. After all those experiences, the drama, the setbacks, the good and the bad stuff that fills our lives, we suddenly come to a realization. I say suddenly but it may have been going on for a long time, sometimes for years and even decades. But what sets this stage apart from the other phases is that we consciously stop and think and choose a different path than the one we have been on. The trademark of this stage lies in our free will and to do things or respond to events differently.

Where we used to just go and plod along, engage in cycles, patterns, and habits, or remain nestled in our comfort zone, blinded to other ways of doing things and blocking and denying our own potential, suddenly, we may see everything from a different light and angle, a change in our narrative framework. It is a moment of transition or transformation that has a significant impact on the path of our lives.

This could lead to and culminate in the end of a long-lasting relationship or the move to a different country. While it represents the end of something, it also points to a beginning of something else, often better and more fulfilling than the devil we had gotten used to and to which we were clinging onto in fear. It is turning a new leaf or page in your life story to start a new chapter and even a new book, the 2.0 update of you that now comes to the foreground based on everything you have seen, thought, experienced, experimented, and lived through up to this moment in time.

This is also a point where Jung differs from both Nigel and me. Jung sees others mainly through a mirroring effect. How you feel about others gives you vital information about yourself. This is what Freud would call projection, and it does not always have to be negative, yet, more often than not, it comes out as strong feelings of hate, envy, anger, or resentment.

Ironically, what you criticize in others is what you try to disown within yourself, and it comes as no surprise that those who are most vocal in their views tend to secretly espouse those very same views and tendencies or at the very least, they secretly wish to have them. For instance, the ones loudest to denounce homosexuals, racists, or the rich have not settled their own inner conflicts nor faced their demons.   

Yet in my view – and I assume Nigel does not disagree – it is not so much how we mirror our relationships but more how we resonate to them or how they resonate with us. There are certain parts of a person we align with or that align with us, and this often helps to create a certain level of trust, comfort, connection, and safety.

That said, there are certainly overlaps between Jung’s and Nigel’s vision of the self. Both emphasize the importance of awareness and realization of one’s own way of understanding and interpreting the world. To reach that insight, it is often necessary to “individuate” - that is to differentiate oneself - from other people and their practices and ideologies. Case in point, “my self” Venn Diagram I mentioned earlier.

The idea is to be mindful and not to mindlessly copy other people’s rituals and behaviors by espousing their views, ideologies or dogmas unexamined. I think that Jung’s focus on the shadow self is helpful in understanding often neglected or repressed parts of the psyche and of finding ways to harmonize them in an honest and considerate manner. This is missing somewhat in Nigel’s views as his approach is not necessarily psychoanalytic in nature, but it is something that strongly resonates with me personally.

Where we run into contested grounds is the idea of the archetype and the collective unconscious. As true as that may be, it is not a defining or definitive aspect of the unique self. Individuality includes embracing things we have in common with others but more importantly, things we do not share with them and what sets us part from the rest. Although Jung also talks about the whole person, it seems that the self and the “other” dissolve or balance each other out, but in my view, those unique differences are the most salient parts, and they need to stand out and should be highlighted and brought to the foreground.

For example, we can try our best to copy Mozart’s music but will never be able to capture the je ne sais quoi quality of his style, personality, and talent. Each of us has unique talents and idiosyncratic ways of doing and seeing things that should be not only developed but cherished and celebrated. It is essentially what makes us be ourselves instead of a watered-down version of a so-called “transcendental self” that merges with everything and everyone, a rather mystical view that I am not necessarily opposed to but that does not do us many favors in everyday life.

Finally, there is also the importance of personal agency. Although it is very hard to know, find, and discover yourself, it is only the stepping stone or the starting point, just like your DNA. Both Nigel and I do agree that being yourself is a hard enough feat, and it may take a lifetime, while some may never come even close in finding and connecting with themselves. That is also in essence the challenge that philosophy has grappled with since its inception and the inscription of know thyself.

In his book, Nigel puts it in terms of two laws of Unique Identity (UI) with the first law being that uniqueness is a biological fact. So far so good because I think we have already established this and our fingerprints are unique even when it comes to identical twins.

Where it gets a bit iffy is the second law: you don’t know yourself. In fact, even if you think you do, you may not have the real true version of yourself. It could be wishful thinking, or a version that others have set out for you, or even the way your environment has reinforced the way you see yourself.

But here’s the rub: if you do not know yourself, how do you assume to really know anyone else including your intimate partners? There will be aspects that are unknown to you in addition to aspects being unknown to them, and thus, we enter a labyrinth filled with mirrors upon mirrors.

Although this sounds bleak, we still need to connect with others. This has had an evolutionary purpose and advantage, but I also think it is part of our spiritual essence. As a result, we reach out to others so we can overcome that which is separating us from the other and within ourselves. Yet with this, we have the potential of seeing ourselves differently and that can aid us in the quest of ourselves and of an authentic life. It has the potential of leading us towards development and attaining and igniting our full potential. Of course, it can also lead us astray and make us believe and espouse things of ourselves that are simply not true, a form of gaslighting if you will.

The next more important step is what you are going to do about it and how you are planning to bring your unique personality into the world. It often includes comprise whether it comes to interacting with others socially or even in relationships and at the office, but it must be done with personal agency. In other words, it has to come from your own volition, be your choice so-to-speak. We can sum up then that being your unique self involves a quest first and then the agency to put it into action. That is both the challenge and the fruit of living an authentic and personally fulfilling life.

As philosopher Jules Goddard quoted in this magnificent book (that I’m barely touching the surface of here) beautifully states: “Our obligation is to perfect our UI - to find ways of expressing it - as well as the obligation to help others do so.” I would even take it a step further by stating that it is our life’s purpose and the meaning of our life to find who we truly are and then live accordingly.

Reykjavik: A Place I Didn’t Know I Loved Part Two

This is the follow-up and final part of my blogpost reflecting upon my recent and very first trip to Iceland. For the previous post, please click: here. As mentioned previously, this was a last-minute trip to a place that I had been planning to visit pretty much all my life and that I ended up loving and appreciating more than I thought I would.

Now I missed some important events due to poor planning, or rather, there had been certain restraints and limitations on my planning window. For instance, I had a podcast before my trip, and my son had a Red-Carpet film premiere after it. That meant that we would miss the solar eclipse (at that moment, we were on the plane) and the annual Culture Night (that was on the day of my son’s event at the Cinematheque). The latter would have to wait for another time (perhaps with a significant other?) while the former seemed more like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity although I did enter a hilarious Icelandair contest to win a trip to the next one!

The Golden Circle and Lava Tunnel Combo Tour

Just in case the Icelandic border agent is reading this, although I mentioned that I would visit the Blue Lagoon, in reality, I did not go there. It was not a conscious lie because the intention was indeed there, but then, various things made me change my mind. We went to its “discount” cousin, the geothermal pool at Nautholsvik, and it was rather chilly that day, so I refused to enter the water, but my brave son did so.

Then, there was naturally the issue of the cost and whether I would enjoy it that much because for me the beach or a spa is best enjoyed with a book in your hand and potentially a beer in the other. Also, if the Blue Lagoon was as blue (my favorite color) and as romantic as I imagined it, I would like to visit it with my forever love and would like it to be both our first times, a kind of equalizing force of wonder for each one of us.

Yet the Golden Circle was something I had firmly circled in my agenda. Why not throw in a lava tunnel for good measure? I bought both online and the first time, it did not go through as I had to confirm and verify the payment with my bank but the second time it worked all right. Now, usually you would expect a confirmation email, right? They also had my cell phone number, so I expected something like “thank you for your payment” or “see you in three days.” Was that too much to ask especially in the age of AI? Apparently, it was in Iceland, as I received nothing whatsoever and the silence was deafening and worrisome.

So naturally, I started panicking. The link to the tour had come from a brochure off a QR code. Now as a rule and for apparent safety, I do not use my phone for any payments, but I did not have a choice here. The company was a place that actually existed and I knew this for a fact because it was the same one I had bought the airport bus tickets from.

And yet, the voice of doubt was whispering in my ear. A Google search made matters worse as someone claimed that this was a scam. I tried to log into the website, and they wanted me to put in my confirmation number I had received in the email. Yeah, what email? There was none in the junk mail and I checked it at least twice.

In such moments, I reach out for tech help and fortunately, my tech guy was there with me. First, he complained about Apple but somehow, through history, he managed to locate the previous page I had made the transaction on and that site did come with confirmation of the trip. Now I could breathe a sigh of relief and look forward to the tour.

The tour started with the lava tunnel and that was quite interesting in and by itself. It was about an hour away from the bus terminal and our driver dropped us off in the middle of nowhere telling us that he would do to the Mega Zipline, but he should be back in time to pick us up by 11. We had to catch our next tour bus at 12:30 to do the Golden Circle so we would have ample time, I thought.

Before entering the lava tunnel or tube as it is alternatively called, our tour guide provided us with helmets equipped with lights and we all felt like miners. Unlike the other guide, ours made sure the helmet was fastened securely and that the lights were on. Then, he told us that we would only go through the first third of the tunnel and that there was not much of a climb throughout. That was music to my ears.

Entering the tunnel was quite impressive. The guide shared with us that there was no echo in the tunnel due to holes that would absorb the sound and this was the reason why we would not encounter any bats; they needed echo location to get around. Another interesting tidbit was the Hawaiian name for hot lava, which was Ah-Ah. And this was because when you walked on it, you would scream in pain and utter those exact words.

As we reached the endpoint of the tour and were about to return, one of the tourists asked how safe the tunnel was. Our guide paused for a bit and with a smirk said: “Are you sure you want me to answer your question here and now? Would it perhaps not be a better idea to talk about this after we return?”

But it was too late. The cat was out of the bag, and we were all curious to know more. He told us that nothing was absolutely safe (true that), but that it was relatively safe. The tunnel was regularly inspected by geologists who gave a thumbs up but as almost every region on this island, safety could not be guaranteed. I imagined how lava could burst out and spill over like a pressure cooker as if it was the unbridled power of the unconscious, in this case even collective unconscious, which could on one hand destroy whole villages, while on the other hand shape wonderful and visit-worthy geographical shapes like the tunnel we were walking inside of.

Now after making us feel slightly queasy after his speech, he added, “Do you guys want to see what absolute darkness looks like?” and like a bunch of elementary schools on a field trip, barring and swiping away any uncomfortable thoughts of doom and disasters of merely moments ago, we all responded in the affirmative. He found the light switch and then left us all in the dark. We are talking pitch dark where you cannot see the hands before your eyes and no one dared to talk with only sporadic non-echoing sighs and whispers of awe all around us.

This was not my first experience of pitch blackness but certainly the first time standing up. Previously, I was floating in a sensory deprivation tank but this time around it was even stranger not to see anything or anyone around. I was thinking that although I could not see my son, I knew he was there, not unlike Peter Falk in my favorite movie of all time Wings of Desire, where he states to an angel (a colleague of sorts), “I can’t see you, but I know you’re there.”

After a good minute of voluntarily imposed darkness, the artificial light inside the tunnel returned and we made our way back. There would have been more to explore but this was the end of the road for us and this tour. The rest was not as secure and convenient since it did not have ramps and stairs and was meant for adventure seekers with sturdier shoes. Mine were certainly not up to par. My son was already heading in that direction of the unknown joining some of the other non-touring adventurers and I had to call him back to safety.

There was a certain amount of excitement to see natural sun light streaming through the opening of the entrance of the tunnel. It was the inverse, relief to see light at the beginning of the tunnel and that officially ended our lava tunnel tour. We were just waiting for the zip lining bus driver to return so that we could take the bus back to the terminal. There was ample time left at the time, and I was already envisioning the delicious pizza slices of our first day in Reykjavik and was excited to indulge in them for a second time. We had lunch waiting for us before we were to embark upon the second even larger tour.

But the bus would not come. We were all waiting, confused. At some point, I wondered if he had left with some of the people leaving the rest of us behind. Then I saw other fellow travelers and realized that we were, for better or worse, all in this together. I was worried about the connecting bus and noticing it was getting way too close for comfort. Scrap the pizza, lunch would have to consist of pepperoni sticks on the fly.

There was a sense of excitement and relief when we saw the bus suddenly appear in this vast and empty landscape. We were saved! All of us knew that a cab back would have cost us a fortune even if it were split four ways! My concern was to arrive there in time for the second tour. The bus driver announced to all of us partaking in the Golden Circle that we need not worry. He would tell them to wait for us. I smiled.

An hour later, with five minutes left, he turned the corner to reach the terminal. And suddenly, he said, “Those continuing with the Golden Circle tour, please hurry now to reach the bus before it takes off. It’s the only tour bus on your right.” So much for letting them know and them waiting for us! There were about five buses on our right, most of them were shuttles to the airport, but we ended up getting on our Golden Circle bus on time.

The tour guide we had was very interesting and quite knowledgeable and shared so much with us that the rather long bus ride was pleasant enough. Unlike the other bus where we were not allowed to eat and we had to wear seat belts (“it’s the law here in Iceland!” the zip line bus driver had told us), we were free to eat while enjoying the scenery unfolding in front of our eyes.

First off, our guide told us that it used to be called the Golden Triangle because there were three points of visit, a trifecta. The name “Golden” came from one of the waterfalls Goldenfloss and it was the first stop of the tour. Yet for some reason, anglophone tourists had not been comfortable with triangles. Might be that it brought up painful memories of geometry class or that the most known triangle, the Bermuda one was not a place anyone would like to visit, or maybe even due to aesthetic grounds as it had a more complete and wholesome quality to it, the circle was adopted and remained for all the years to come.

The waterfall did not disappoint. When we stopped, I was wondering where the waterfall was as it was not immediately visible in a showy grand way. We had to walk a bit until it magically and majestically appeared before our eyes. It was absolutely amazing and breathtaking. Another force of nature but this time, it was not fire but water.

The second stop was a geyser, and the guide said that this was one of the cases like Hoover or Kleenex where the brand name stuck and became to designate the thing itself. Geysir was actually the name of a town that had geysers, but it was not the only place as there were other geysers all around, even as far away as Bolivia; yet the name stuck for a reason. He also let us know that it was not a good idea to get too close to them as their temperature could reach up to a whopping 250 degrees Celsius.

Around the geyser that erupted every dozen minutes or so, there were quite a few people in wait, their phones drawn and their fingers on the trigger to capture the moment it occurred. I was certainly one of them. We were fishing for geysers, and it was actually surprisingly quiet all round as everyone was anticipating the big moment and no one had an idea when it would arise. The geyser was cordoned off so there was no real risk to any of the attendants, but I was too far away to get any spray on me. It was impressive to the see the geyser burst forth all of a sudden and then turn into hot steam almost as quickly.

The third and final stop was the tectonic ridge that represented the separating point between two continental rifts: Europe meeting North America. As it was a common tourist thing to do - and to later brag about - I also could not resist the pull to have one foot in Europe with the other situated in North America. It was amazing how volcanic activity alongside constantly moving plates had shaped and given form to the landscape in front of us.

After this, we made our way back to Reykjavik. Our guide also shared other interesting tidbits of information on patronyms. In Iceland, you would know the name of the father of each person as it would include son or daughter of so-and-so. It sounded complicated and may be a bureaucratic nightmare, but it was not an uncommon thing.

We all know names that end in son, and it represents exactly what it means. I asked the guide why there was often an extra s, and he said it was because of the genitive denoting possession. This way of naming used to be a common practice in Ireland as well with the examples of O’ denoting the person’s name. The Scottish equivalent would be Mac.

In the late afternoon, our Golden Circle was complete, and we were back in Reykjavik at square one. There was a warm glow around us from all the natural beauty we had witnessed in the span of a day, and I was happy to try to document it with various pictures and a few short videos. And this post is yet another way of showing my respect and appreciation for such majestic landscapes.

Returning Home and Arrival in Vancouver

Our final evening was a movie night. I searched for Icelandic movies and to my surprise, Eurovision Song Contest: The Story of Fire Saga with Will Ferrell and Rachel McAdams showed up. Although we had both already seen the film on Netflix, we had not put two and two together. I had not realized that Iceland was being represented as to my then slightly more ignorant mind, all Scandinavian countries blended into one big blob.

With the pizza (we had both lamb and pepperoni but on separate pizzas), tortilla chips with guacamole (the former was good, the latter not so much) and Icelandic beer (Gull and it was surprisingly good), we looked forward to seeing Iceland and Icelandic people represented in the film while still being in Reykjavik. I almost applauded when the surtitle mentioned the capital. The film was shot in Husavik, a seaport town that gained some touristic following after the film, but sadly, it was too late and too far away for us to visit.

I found the movie did a surprisingly good job of representing Icelandic essence. Yes, elves play an important role in their mentality. I had read that most Icelanders with their wicked sense of humour and slight mischief did quite enjoy the film just as we did. Sure, it was strange to have North Americans playing Icelanders but there were some Icelanders in the film too, notably the guy who was always ecstatic and kept asking for the “Jaja Ding Dong” song to be played. It was a good and appropriate way to wrap up our stay, and we knew that the next day we would have to get up before dawn to make our way to the bus terminal.

It was very quiet and peaceful at around 5 am as we made our way through the city for one last time. There were no tourists in sight, but it was a whole different story at the bus terminal where a lot of them were also on their way to the airport. It turned out that the 5:30 bus was more popular than I had imagined and that we were not the only people on that trip as I had falsely imagined.

Evidently, tourists were an important lifeline for the economy in Iceland, and everything was not only prepared for them but also geared towards them. From the various souvenir shops to almost everything costing money, there was little respite for the city to catch a breath and truly be itself, at least in the summer time. There were some Icelanders, but we ended up running into more Germans and Italians. I was wondering what the place felt like outside of the tourist season.

At the airport, the security line was long, and I was glad that we had a good three hours before our flight. My son had an unopened Collab can - a popular energy drink - that he was planning to drink later on. Sadly enough, it turned out that we could not take it with us. The security personnel asked if I wanted to check it in. I said, no, but was wondering whether my son could drink it. Only if we went back, he said, and that idea did not appeal at all. So, I let the security person have the can.

But the question was, where on Earth was my son because as we passed through, I lost sight of him. It had been rather hectic trying to gather all the stuff together, my wallet, belt, iPhone, my son’s iPad and my own laptop alongside my backpack, which had been flagged for some reason but once the security lady saw me, she just said it was fine without any additional comment.

Finally, I saw my son come through and he told me that they had pulled him aside and had done a random test on him. They had used swabs on his hands and his pants.

“What for?”

My son shrugged.

“And why you? And not me?”

He shrugged again. Then, I shared with him the unfortunate news. “Your Collab did not make it!”

“Not a problem. It didn’t taste that good either.”

The whole boarding process was very different in Iceland, much less structured and way more confusing. We had to wait in line, and they did not go through the different zones as we were accustomed to, but it was first-come first-serve. Then, we had to climb up to the next level but fortunately, they had an escalator, which made it somewhat easier to transport our carry-on luggage.

Oddly enough, the flight back was longer, but it did break into two flights of equal length and I appreciated the symmetry. It was five hours to Montreal and then five back to Vancouver. We had a layover of two and a half hours in Montreal, but it went by so quickly, mainly because the customs in Montreal did eat up a sufficient amount of time.

On both flights, we were entertained by movies and shows. My son got closer to ending his Breaking Bad binge, while I watched a standup show by Remy Youssef, which I found both interesting and amusing and then watched Jafar Panahi’s It Was Just an Accident, which started off confusing but then it grew on me, and I would definitely recommend it despite the shaky start.

As we arrived in Vancouver, I had two sets of feelings. On one hand, I was of course happy to be back home. I felt that life over there was not sustainable and I also missed home and its many comforts. And at the same time, I could have easily stayed longer in Reykjavik, a city that I fell in love with. Unlike Paris, it was not at first sight, but it kept growing on me as it worked its subtle and unique charm on me.

Like Paris, I found it a very idyllic and romantic place filled with life and culture. There was both an oddness and a certain unpredictability, which I also appreciated. I could imagine myself going back for another visit, maybe in a year or so but I also wished to make the trip with a special someone experiencing Iceland with her by my side. I could see us strolling around Tjörnin lake, visit the Golden Circle together, and that time around, add the Blue Lagoon to our list of places to visit.

Reykjavik: A Place I Didn’t Know I Loved Part One

Summer was coming to an end, and as usual, there was a sense of last-minute panic, especially when it came to traveling. This worry was based on the not so incorrect assumption that starting fall, things would start getting busy both work and life-wise, so it was a final attempt to fit in a bit of fun and relaxation before the merciless routine kicked in again.

This year, since we both had passports, my son suggested to travel internationally instead of our local excursions to Whistler and Kelowna. He had his first taste of visiting London as part of a school trip, but the question for us was where to go? Places that were on my list were not ideal or it was just not the right time to visit them: Cuba was one of the places of interest; Universal Studios has been on our list for a while and would have to wait for a while longer, and so it boiled down to two potential candidates to the left and to the right of us respectively: Iceland and Japan.

The latter was a country that my son has been interested in ever since discovering anime; he had even learnt a bit of Japanese including some impressive reading skills. Iceland was my baby and has been for a long time; it was an item on my bucket list. How it got there I’m not too sure. I remember playing a board game in my youth where you could fly to Reykjavik so this desire may have perhaps unconsciously been planted and formed way back then.

So what to do when you have two conflicting choices? Ask Chat GPT of course! And it told me, taking into consideration my 17-year-old travel companion, it would recommend Japan as way more exciting for a younger mind. I think Chat GPT broke it down 70% to 30% so not a close call at all. Yet as I asked around by canvassing humans, everyone seemed to discourage traveling to Tokyo in August, including the travel agent I went to see. He added that Europe was equally a bad idea considering the heat waves and forest fires, so there was little left to work with. Plus, a Japanese friend gave a clear and unequivocal “no” to this plan.

But what about Iceland then, we asked ourselves. As the weather was mild, their summer tends to lack heat, and it was quasi and technically Europe, it became our destination of choice. I mean this is the birthplace of Bjork and Sigur Ros we are talking about, so it would be interesting to see how the landscapes may have influenced their music, which is unique and distinct from anything or anywhere else. The night before and the day of I decided to learn some basic phrases in Icelandic, just in case. It turns out that it was not necessary at all as almost everyone, except one guy (more on him later), spoke English fluently.

Security Check and Flight

No matter where I go, security checks are a source of worry and stress. This time, at least in Vancouver, there was nothing of note, except the agent telling me that my fly was open. Yeah, flying with your fly open is not something that was recommended but it was something that was easily remedied. In fact, I was grateful that this was pointed out to me sooner than later. We had a connecting flight in Calgary, and then it was straight to Keflavik, a place about an hour away from Reykjavik itself.

The arrival was not smooth. There was no gate, so we were told to descend from the plane and get on a shuttle bus. From there on, there was a lot of confusion and not enough information, but we ended up in a long line to enter the country. They did the biometric fingerprints and took our photos, and the border agent asked the reason for our trip. Tourism, I said.

“What places are you going to go to?” he wanted to know and all that came to mind was The Blue Lagoon, incidentally the one place I did not end up going to.

“How long are you staying in Iceland?” I responded, one week. Then he asked, if we had intentions of staying in Iceland. I was a bit surprised and taken aback by the question, but I said that I did not.

He then smiled and told us to pass through and enjoy our stay. Yet it took us another half an hour walking in circles, tired and jetlagged as we were while desperately trying to get outside, and for a moment I thought we had lined up again at the same spot to face another inquisitive border agent. Yet once outside, we followed the many tourists and took the bus that drove us to the Bus Terminal in Reykjavik and found our way into the downtown part.

First Impressions and Later Things of Note

We entered our first Icelandic café, a very nice and artsy place, which was right next to the National Art Gallery (but we did not know this yet), and after the initial shock of the price once converted into Canadian dollars in my head, I was thirsty and had a sip of water and almost fell off my chair! Damn, it was the best-tasting water I have ever had, topping even the Swiss by a mile in that regard! I could not wait to enter our accommodation and drink it nonstop from the faucet like a cherished and endless supply bottle of quality wine.

The people struck me as a bit reserved but friendly, and they would not give unsolicited help or advice, unless you asked for it, then they would do so freely. The city was beautiful. I loved the Tjornin lake and could not wait to take long walks there. The colorful houses were just as I had imagined or seen them depicted in pictures before the trip.

The food was also quite good, albeit incredibly expensive. It was twice, sometimes triple the prices I would see in Vancouver, but it tasted very good. On the first day, I saw this sign and knew that I would have to try Icelandic lamb burger sooner than later. This was in addition to their famed hot dog stall that you were supposed to order as “one with everything” and which included crispy onions as a delicious condiment.

The ice cream at Valdi’s was amazing. Just like the frog in boiling water, at that point, I was not too shocked to shell out a 1000 Krona, which all things considered with the new lens and framework of reality in place seemed like a good deal to me. Considering that fast-food cost almost triple that amount and that you got big portions of ice cream, it was certainly worth it. Mine was Kinder just in case you were curious to know.

The absolute necessity and lifeline for survival was the kitchen that our accommodation included. Strangely enough, there was no microwave in the unit, but the electric stovetop and basic kitchenware and cutlery made things slightly more affordable for us. Breakfasts were not on the house but rather made in the house: we ensured and were proud to confirm that we managed each day’s first meal at our new adopted abode. It was interesting because in my regular routine, I would always skip breakfast as part of my intermittent fasting regime but since I had my young travel companion with me, I had to adjust to his at least three meals per day schedule, which I did not mind in the least.

We found two supermarkets in our area. Our preferred option was Kronan, which would be the North American equivalent of Safeway. They had a good assortment of food and groceries, and I bought eggs, milk, cereal, pepperoni sticks, and burger patties to name a few items. The other store was called Bonus and that one did not look as polished and reminded me of the Canadian No Frills chain.

Their emblem was a large pink pig. I was tempted to buy their sweater as a souvenir but then I was not ready to hand over more than $50 CDN for an image of a pig, a reference that only Icelanders and people who have visited the country would get. Everyone else would be wondering why on Earth I was wearing a pig sweater as there was no other writing or information on it.

It was in that store that my son encountered the only non-English speaking individual in perhaps all of Reykjavik. We were inseparable throughout but, on that day, he ventured to the nearby store looking for some hairspray and had PIN issues with his credit card (technically it’s not his; he spends the money and I pay the bills) and he could not communicate with the clerk. It was fine in the end as he did get his hairspray and was able to pay in cash.

To be honest, I am a bit sad to see that cash is becoming obsolete all-around; there are even places that do not accept it in the first place. And with high denomination of bills and even higher costs, it felt like paper money had lost its value. All payments were contactless and I noticed that using my phone eliminated the need for adding my PIN, which I was not 100 percent sure of. Something that I was told before heading to Iceland and that Icelanders kept me reminding me of was the practice of paying in their local currency as opposed to in mine as you would be saving a bit of money in that transaction.

Final note and piece of advice on buying food: double-check the labels! Pretty much everyone does speak English, but the labels tend to be in Icelandic. Well, you can’t have it all now, can you? Although there were some similarities between English and German and I could make out some meanings, some of the other words looked and were indeed completely foreign to me. Do not buy items based on what they look or appear like! Right before consuming the patties, I was wondering if it was indeed beef and not fermented shark meat or ground bull testicles, so I did a Google translate and was relieved that it was indeed beef!

Less luck with what I assumed to be potato salad. It turned out to be coleslaw but with an Icelandic twist: it contained pineapple for some odd reason. I could not adjust to that and was not able to eat it. My son did not even attempt as I had already lost him at coleslaw. The second item was yoghurt. Now the milk, eggs, and ice-cream had been a great success, so I had even greater expectations for Icelandic yoghurt. And it tasted pretty good at first until the after taste kicked in. I thought maybe it was an anomaly and had another spoon, but the same thing happened.

I checked the translation and it turned out to be both sugar-free and lactose-free, and this is why I highly encourage to translate labels for your own safety and sanity. Except for sausages. Those were always and everywhere delicious and rumour has it there is lamb in it, but I do not wish to know the ingredients or the process of making sausages. I have been traumatized by a Simpson episode once, and since then, I do accept and eat hot dogs without any need for additional information or details.

 

Sightseeing, Galleries and the One and Only Museum

We had the chance to see pretty much all of Reykjavik, at least the downtown part. It was not very big to begin with, and you could easily and conveniently get around on foot; they had two wonderful pedestrian zones, one of them the rainbow walk, which lead to their famous church, the Hallgrimskirkja that you can climb to the top.

Well, not sure you can climb it, but we took the elevator. The view of the city was quite impressive, and all this time, I was wondering about the architectural style and inspiration of the church. This was because I had recently partaken in a series of talks and debates on the link between philosophy and architecture in my beloved monthly Philosophers' Café and thanks to host Laurent Fadanni was now slightly more aware of choices and differences in architectural designs.

Speaking of architecture, their convention centre Harpa was an amazing modern glass structure that was impressive to look at from both inside and outside as well as day and night. They had a Volcano Express activity that was a distant cousin to FlyOver, the flight simulation, except in this ride (if you can call it that) you get “dangerously close” to lava. You even feel the heat on your face and the seat goes up and down in often unexpected ways that made this 4D event quite memorable.

The Volcano Express was short – and yes, expensive – but I appreciated the videos and installations around it as they were not only educational vis-à-vis Iceland and their fascinating and often troubled history with volcanos but also showed us the sense of awe that Icelanders have regarding the power of nature. In a way, it feels like they are living on top or under a ticking time bomb and they are not necessarily afraid but accept and take it with a stoic Viking spirit (but this may also explain their particular interest, fascination, and belief in elves!).

It so happened that Bjork had an exhibition called “Echolalia” in her hometown at the National Art Gallery. Or in fact, she had three separate exhibits. One of them was the amazing nine-part acapella piece entitled “Sorrowful Soil” that she composed right after her mother’s death and that she sang alongside a choir with 30 individual speakers emanating each single vocal track; they were all spread out in the gallery room as fluctuating walls of sound. All the while, a video of Bjork was playing on the screen. It was certainly the most impressive installation there.

There was an impressive video of ancestress as well as another video made with the help of AI, something that my son disappointedly pointed out to me, and I was worried he would lose the respect he had been building up for this Icelandic iconoclast. AI or not, it was still quite good and unique, and she’s still keeping it real, at least musically and lyrically.

The third exhibit was just videos of her in a live concert given in Reykjavik interspersed with strange sounds and odd dance moves; some of them were very impressive. Yet the most memorable thing of them all was a sign that encouraged photography! I had never seen or experienced such a thing in an art gallery before. In Vancouver, we have stuck personnel that does not let you breathe close to the paintings and artwork, let alone dare to snap a shot.

Their other gallery, The House of Collections, was also quite fun and entertaining. I know galleries are not really supposed to be that, but Icelanders not only appreciate their art, but they try their best to make it interactive. We went to this gallery because access was included in the ticket I got, plus, anyone under 17 could enter for free, and that was music to my ears proving to me that we had planned this trip just at the right time.

The paintings and art exhibits were quite good and the floors were separated by themes of land and water, and the latter one had a rowing boat that you were again encouraged to use; it made splashing sounds and with the visual effects of waves projected on the walls around you, you really did feel at sea but without becoming seasick. And apart from daily walking, that was the only other exercise I did that whole week.

The third museum was not included on the ticket, and we were hesitant to go there at first, and no, it was not just about the exorbitant ticket price but more due to its subject matter. In fact, I was adamant at not going there at first but reconsidered on the next day. I just did a thought experiment of going home and not having been to “the only penis museum in the world” and imagined how I would regret it on my deathbed saying with clenched teeth and a broken voice, if only I had been to the Icelandic phallocentric museum when I had the chance and opportunity in Reykjavik! Now I shall never know what it looks and feels like.

Well, I do now, and it was still shocking despite the mental preparation for it. It was also silly and surprisingly educational. Something like this could only occur in Iceland and although we were both traumatized, we do consider it worth a visit. One of the claims of fame was an authenticated cast of Jimi Hendrix’s member and I got to see it with my own eyes and cannot unsee it anymore.

And then, there’s Elmo – no, definitely not the one that you are thinking of! - and best for you to check out the bizarre but outstanding documentary entitled The Final Member. Watch it before you enter the museum and you will have an even greater appreciation of animal and human male anatomy.

The final comment I would like to make here is about the fashion and lifestyle in Reykjavik. The fashion was rather colorful and taken from the 60s or perhaps even more the 70s, especially when it came to the women. It did not look bad or anything, but it felt slightly odd and out of place for our era.

The second thing was the shocking popularity of e-scooters. Now they are popular around the world, I’m sure, but over there, people would dress up while being on it; a business suit or a fancy dress was not out of place for them and it was often accompanied by - no, not a helmet - but a drink of sorts be it a bottle of beer or a glass of wine, champagne, or a mimosa. The other thing was how easily they would discard the scooter whenever they were done with it, and it would be left behind often in the middle of the sidewalk or at other more improbable spots like this one encountered before dawn in front of their trademark church.