Part troll

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Part troll
Reykjavík, Iceland

Reykjavík, Iceland


I awoke a year older, if not wiser in perhaps the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in. I got up at a leisurely pace and availed myself of the buffet breakfast before partaking of the private lagoon. I’ve learned my lesson from visits past so once again coated my hair with a thick layer of conditioner before slipping into the warm water with not another living soul in it. For all intents and purposes, it was just me in the midst of the icelandic wilderness – so peaceful yet powerful. The clay here seemed even thicker and whiter than the main lagoon so I also laid it on even thicker than the conditioner and just floated a while and absorbed it all (the atmosphere, not the clay, I washed that off).

I hopped out, applied another coat of conditioner, packed my bag, checked out and headed back once more to the main lagoon. Today it was even better than yesterday owing to the grey sky lending the water a silvery shimmer like mercury or molten silver (not that I advise submerging yourself in a lagoon of either of these metals or any metal, molten or otherwise). Aside from that, the colder air made for more steam rolling on the waters surface providing little clouds to hide in.

I laid back and floated feeling sorry for all those lean, muscular people who don’t know the simple joy of floating like a cork! What sad lives they must have! I stretched out, closed my eyes and revelled in the warm water below, cool air above, nothing but the sound of my own breath and gently lapping water.

I could’ve stayed there all day but eventually came back to the world by opening my eyes to find myself surrounded by light as though submerged in a liquid sky – so surreal, beautiful, magnificent and raw. It’s an experience that can really get into you mind, body and soul with the power to transform you into something more like itself, making you part troll no matter how much conditioner you use!

And so ended this milestone trip within my journey. I caught a bus to the airport for a delayed flight back to London where I encountered a few public transport mix ups that eventually saw me back at Vic and Pete’s in a black cab just on midnight.

Each time I leave Iceland, it’s with a certain sadness but a greater certainty that I’ll return. The time before last, I could never have anticipated this trip alone or how I might endure it but I have and am leaving a little more troll than before. No doubt it’s the ‘hidden person’ inside of me that’s emerging that will keep bringing me back.


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