So the time had come to leave the country that justified and exceeded all our expectations. We headed to the airport under our own power, along that very same boring and busy highway that Andrey had been so eager to see at the beginning.
Well, his dream came true. Along the way, we saw a golf course, not as small as one might imagine, given how rocky the island is.
The stone pyramid in the background is a gift from the Norwegians in memory of Iceland's first settler, who originally came from, well, you know where
The same thing, close up
The power plant is thoughtfully decorated with flowerpots
We brewed some tea in a special hurricane-shelter booth
First time seeing one of these
And the kicker is — where? In a place where nobody on earth would ever need it, off the highway, where we turned off just out of curiosity.
On the way, we dropped by an amusing little port town.
Even the sidewalks here are perfect
As a farewell, I ate my last hlölla bátur, which conveniently turned up in Njarðvík (the town right before Keflavík, practically merging with it).
We spent quite a while packing up the bikes, then dragged them to a special drop-off spot for super-oversized luggage (as opposed to just regular oversized luggage)
We barely had enough trash bags, even though we bought them in Reykjavík for a fortune.
Now I want to go to Greenland, too
By some miracle, Andrey managed to exchange his leftover currency, even though it was the dead of night
Otherwise, we'd have had to toss it in here
The flight back was uneventful, though the Lithuanians tossed our bikes straight onto the luggage carousel, which wasn't great. My dad picked us up, and we rode home in comfort.
What can be said about our journey that you haven't read yet?
General phrases and clichés that actually express emotions rather than the essence of the matter: but my story has had more than enough of those.
Did I like Iceland? I idealize Scandinavians, but it's better to believe that the world is inherently good and there are role models to follow than the opposite. Iceland is exciting, inspiring, and positive. However, all this is a lie until you live there yourself and figure out what's what.
What did I like most about our visit? You know the answer. The storm was beyond compare. Five years ago I wrote that I was a provincial who had no clue how the world worked, but now I can say that I've seen quite a bit, and experienced a lot in particular. The storm was beyond compare.
Is it really as beautiful and is the weather really as bad as they say? Yes, yes, and a thousand times yes. The two fiercely compete with each other; for us, the weather took the lead, but that's just the luck of the draw.
To this day, I can't quite grasp what it all was, or how I should perceive our trip. Was it hard or easy, important or not, too hardcore, or could I do something like this again — I can't wrap my head around it; it stands out way too much from ordinary life experiences in terms of intensity and strangeness.
In a way, the Vietnam getaway was a similarly incomprehensible miracle, but back then, I somehow couldn't fully process the sheer weirdness and novelty of what was happening.
I'm really glad I managed to plan and pull off a trip like this all on my own: it means I have enough experience now. I managed to organize everything, despite my massive problems with concentration. Interestingly, I predicted the mileage correctly, the route turned out quite well, and my main fear — that the gear would fail — also came true. It's nice that we kept nicely to the schedule, took one spare day, and even had an extra one left over for Reykjavík.
I was thinking about what to philosophize about here at the end, since there's still some space left, and then it hit me. How could I skip my favorite question: the meaning of life, especially since I'm more or less permanently puzzled by it (like many people), even though I figured it all out a long time ago.
I don't know if I've written about it already, but it never hurts to repeat it. I'm an atheist, and therefore, for the most part, this question makes no sense to me. Answers to it are always the kind of pretty philosophical musings that sound nice, and sometimes force your brain into an agonizing workout, but the outcome of that effort is questionable at best. Still, even I can't resist a little speculation on the subject.
Take the famous blogger Avraam Boleslav Pokoy, who constantly urges people to tackle the super-tasks of human development and progress, while usually mocking all other ways of life. Of course, I really like his stance — that's how I was raised (respecting the progress of civilization) — and he is a brilliant writer. But does he ever think about the inferiority complex and self-deprecating tendencies he fosters in people who, for various reasons, cannot engage in such super-tasks (and they are, by and large, the majority, myself included)?
Another trendy candidate for the meaning of life is self-actualization. It sounds complicated, but in reality, it just means doing what you're good at and what you want to do, as much and as well as possible. This appeals to me even more, especially since it aligns with what I know about human biological nature (everyone should read Stelazin). A person needs to solve problems, and what kind of problems isn't all that important. The main thing is that they shouldn't be too hard or too easy — just barely within one's capabilities. If there are no problems, or if they seem unnecessary and unimportant, you have to invent them yourself.
Another option is the freedom from desiring anything, a concept often peddled by mystics of all stripes. But I'm somewhat skeptical of the Buddhist theme of letting go of desires. I mean, it's a noble pursuit, but it most likely contradicts human biology, meaning it's unattainable. That doesn't stop one from striving towards such a goal, though — that's what an ideal is for. On top of that, the massive catch is how you're supposed to do anything at all if you genuinely don't want anything. I'm sure Buddhists, even those who aren't top-tier theoreticians, would find something to tell me, but the answers of mystics always sound too vague or unconvincing to my still half-natural-science-oriented nature. A lot of my thoughts on this subject, and generally the ideas of a skeptic and materialist regarding Buddhism, are voiced in this article — highly recommend it, it's an interesting one.
https://blogs.scientificamerican.com/cross-check/2011/12/02/why-i-dont-dig-buddhism/
The idea that "spirituality means engaging with the world, not withdrawing from it," which is precisely what's expressed in the paragraphs above, is especially important. The New Age crowd will probably tell me that the dichotomy is false, and that "this is either-or thinking," but you can't fool us techies with that stuff.
Within the doctrine of doing things that are interesting to me, yet still within my abilities, my master plan of traveling to two new countries a year will be put into practice for as long as I am alive and able-bodied. I don't promise to write about everything, but who knows. Interestingly, I usually only manage to blog about my sports-oriented outings, while my absolute favorite trip of my entire adult life — to Amsterdam and London — completely slipped through the cracks.
And in general, everyone should travel. Of course, I can understand where people are coming from: in our conditions, it often boils down to either a more or less fulfilling life during the week, or overseas trips. Pulling off both is a rarity. For reasons there's no point in airing here (and there's no point in recursively airing why there's no point either), you know what I chose. I fully admit that this might change, but the odds are slim.
On that optimistic note, it's time to wrap up this series of posts about Iceland. Despite everything stated above, I'll remind you of my current favorite mystical truisms (gleaned from The Power of Now) once more: happiness isn't out there, somewhere, something to strive for; happiness is here and now, in this given moment. If, for instance, you think that here I am traveling, while you don't have the means to — don't forget that I feel exactly the same way about other people — there they are doing something, while I don't have the means to, but all these desires are spouting nonsense: "if you don't have this or that, you will be unhappy."
So even if there is no happiness in the "now" moment, it's no big deal, and you shouldn't think about it; you should snap out of those thought loops right away, because they are of no use anyway. But living in the present moment, on the contrary, is a must; doing what you're doing right now as intensely, fully, and consciously as possible.