discomfort

Picture this: a millennial girl with a very heavy backpack sitting in seat 26A of a bargain airline, bundled up in all of her heaviest clothes but still shivering. She somehow acquired a seat with an absurd amount of legroom but kind of yearns for the inevitable shared body heat that comes with the more cramped seats of a less privileged life. She may or may not have slept (if one could even use so generous a term) in a rental car on the streets of downtown Reykjavik (across the street from a hostel, ironically enough) with the equivalent of about $2.87 in Islandic krona in her pocket until 3 o’clock this morning, at which time her friends whisked her away to the airport in order to allow her to sit in this roomy yet frigid 26A and make her way on to the next chapter of her adventure.

You may have questions. You may not. Either way, I’m going to explain. This past week, I decided to say yes to a camping trip through Iceland with my dear friends Meredith and Graham. Many people who know the three of us were skeptical of our survival. Like, pretty legitimately concerned. (And if I’m being honest, not without merit) After arriving early in the morning on our overnight flights, we used the airport wifi to find directions to our rented camping gear, stopped at a grocery store to buy some peanut butter, bread, corn, and ramen, (our means of survival for the next few days) and just started driving. And oh man, what an adventure.

Iceland is a dream. A weird, mystical, other-worldly dream filled with colors I had never seen before and deserts that look like Mars and hot pools that reek of sulfur and black sand beaches filled with silky smooth pebbles and waterfalls with power and beauty that leave one speechless and glaciers straight out of the movie Planet Earth. Every place we stopped was so beautiful and different and indescribable. It both saddens and baffles me that Iceland is one of the most atheistic countries in the world because it is a place with such unrivaled and unique beauty and it’s hard for me to be surrounded by all of that astounding and powerful beauty and believe that it just happened by chance.

However, when describing my experience in Iceland, shortly after using the above-mentioned adjectives, I think I would also have to use the word “uncomfortable”. I was thrown into (albeit, by my own doing) a brand new country, culture, currency and climate after a month of transition and movement and not being in one place for more than three consecutive days. Although I was with two great friends, we rarely interacted with people other than each other and we really had very little idea where we were going the whole time. We were frequently cold and tired and we slept outside in this chilly, rainy country for a week with the only constant in our lives being our rental car that was bursting at the seams with our belongings and camping gear.

There are challenges that come with inconsistency and discomfort and our camping adventure was no exception. However, with these challenges come growth and learning and from my experience, this growth is usually worth whatever hard circumstances that brought it about. For example, we stopped at a hostel/restaurant in Akureyri (called Backpacker’s Bar & Coffee Shop; it was lovely and I highly recommend it if you ever happen to be in Northern Iceland) so that I could do my homework. (Yes, I had homework to turn in in the middle of this crazy adventure. Alas, such is life.) While I was drawing free body diagrams, Meredith and Graham studied a map and decided that instead of continuing along the coast, we should drive through the highlands to see two glaciers and a few waterfalls we weren’t initially planning on visiting.

The funny thing about the Icelandic highlands is that they do not include paved roads or really any sort of civilization of any kind. Mere found a place called Hveravellir on the map, and after passing one car and two hours of trying to avoid potholes the size of small animals, we finally arrived. What we thought was the “town” of Hveravellir was simply one building with a mysterious Icelandic man (think: solemn version of the shopkeeper hosting the big summer blowout in Frozen) at the front desk, a hut with some bathrooms, a geothermal pool, and a scattering of campers rugged enough to brave this remote location.

We arrived at dusk and the anxiety quickly set in as we contemplated our recently depleted gas tank and discovered that the nearest gas station was over 110 km through the pothole-littered roads we had just battled for hours. Although the thought of being stranded in the middle of this Icelandic no man’s land terrified all three of us, we realized that there was nothing we could do to remedy the situation, so we pushed our fears aside and cooked our nutritious dinner of ramen and corn. We woke up early and hopped in the car to begin our journey through the potholes and pouring rain in order to locate that sweet, sweet nectar colloquially known as gasoline.

When the road turned from gravel to pavement, I think Graham cried and when we pulled into gas station #2 (because of course the first one we arrived at was up an ambiguous hill and wouldn’t accept payment), we let out a collective sigh of relief because we had made it. We had survived and we knew we would be okay.

This moment, this feeling of conquering and relief proved to us (and more importantly to our friends who were skeptical of our survival) that we were capable of overcoming the inevitable obstacles that come along with saying yes and partaking in adventures. But more importantly, it revealed how helpless we are in this life and the power God has to overwhelm us with both his beauty and his might. We were in the middle of nowhere, but it was the freaking beautiful middle of nowhere. We were surrounded by mysterious adventurers and wild goats alike, but we also had each other, and we knew that no matter what happened, we would all be together and we would all be fine.

Our trip was filled with rain and goosebumps and wind and body odor. But it was also filled with wonder and awe at the indescribable beauty of this world and the laughter and joy that comes along with deep friendship and shared experiences. It was challenging and uncomfortable but ultimately, that discomfort allowed us to appreciate one another and the beauty of the world around us in a deeper way than we ever would have been able to had we been pampered with fancy hotels and balmy beaches. Iceland tested our patience and flexibility and not only did we survive this rugged adventure, but we surpassed (with flying colors, might I add) any and all expectations set for us by our dubious friends.

And alas, it seems this is only the beginning of my discomfort. As I finish up this paragraph and ignore the stern gaze of the flight attendant who informed me that I needed to put my laptop away five minutes ago, I begin my descent into Dublin and into a new journey filled with the unknown. I’m currently working off of quite limited sleep and I haven’t changed my clothes in a week so I’ll let you know how it goes.