Hitchhiking in Iceland

Septmeber 16, 2010

I had to throw out all my Canada-based generalizations about hitchhiking in Iceland.

No room for a driver to pull over?  No problem.  They just stop on the highway anyways and throw open the door where you’re standing.  In the event of cars behind, and oncoming traffic, the cars behind will wait politely while you stuff your backpacks into the trunk of your ride.

Oh, there’s three people in that car already, they won’t be stopping?  On the contrary.  What’s two more people with backpacks the size of young obese children?  No problem, we’ll fit you in.

Going somewhere other than you are?  Well, it’s not too far out of our way; we’ll just take you there.  Elderly drivers, and the ultimate never-stop-for-hitchhikers-people, mothers with little kids?  Of course, get on in!

WOW.

Our first week in Iceland, we hitchhiked everywhere we were going, which was, all over the southwest of the island.

For me, hitchhiking is completely the most desirable way to travel, if your schedule is at all flexible.  I’m writing a book about why hitchhiking rocks and why more people should do it, but to summarize in three bullet points, it’s because:  you meet the raddest people you wouldn’t otherwise, your itinerary may spontaneously divert in a positive way, and it’s free.  So, it was an automatic choice for me.  After a cursory glance at the prices of buses for the hordes of tourists, it was a no-brainer.  Hmm, we can pay to get driven around, OR we can eat.

And then, Icelanders took my biggest hitchhiking-induced observation of people (that people are basically good and generous and love helping others if you give them an opportunity to do so), to a whole ‘nother level.

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Ten day observations of Iceland

August 22, 2010

There’re lots of sheep.  Many cats.  In the city, men walk very small dogs (“murse dogs”?) with no sense of embarrassment or irony.  It was days before we saw a real medium-sized dog (English shepherd).

Lots of horses.  The horses are short, sweet, gorgeous, and friendly, with the longest, thickest hair.  It’s a wonder they see anything, their manes are always in their eyes.

Icelanders build very unique churches.  The churches are edgy and experimental and fun, like architectural fights of fancy. Hmm, what could we do and still have it recognizably a church?  The design and treatment of churches is so playful it’s almost as if they’re mocking Christianity, but I don’t think that’s the case.

They also like their sculpture.  Sculptures are everywhere, weird, abstract, and usually substantial.  There isn’t much that’s wispy in Iceland at all.  Even the people are substantial.

They build with imported wood or else concrete, and clad everything in stucco or corrugated iron.

There aren’t any biting insects.  No snakes.  No predatory animals.  This is an indescribable difference coming from hiking and camping in Canada, where you have to always consider a variety of other beasts that could want to get into your food.  Here, none.  Food in the tent, no problem.

There’s not many warning signs.  There’re no shoulders on the roads.  Even on “highways”, people just stop in the middle of the road for many reasons, such as to chat with other drivers.  Seeing as there’re no shoulders, this is reasonable.  They don’t have flag-people to control road construction.   Very few police.  There aren’t restrooms, or “WC”s, as they’re called here, provided at designated rest areas.  Public garbage cans are few and far between.  What there is a hell of a lot of, is high expectations of everyone’s common sense, self-governing, and self-reliance.

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