Is Iceland Different Enough - Part 2

Welcome back sports fans. Before I get into this installment, I wanted you to know that I have put this BLOG out in a YouTube video. It’s basically me telling this story. If you would like to watch me tell it, please click here. If you’d rather read it for yourself, just keep reading. Either way, thanks for your attention.

During part 1, Ginger suggested we go to Iceland to ride the little horses. Being who I am, I immediately agreed. The problem was that we’re cheep, and we seriously underestimated the difference between spring in South Carolina and spring in Iceland. To save a few dollars, we went to Iceland in April and was met by 33° with it raining sideways. We rode anyway. At least we rode everyday except the one day the weather was really bad even by Icelandic standards. That day we went swimming, outside.

I think that’s caught us up from Part 1.

I want to start Part 2 with a confession. I am an addict. I have a terrible monkey on my back, the television. I love it. I love everything about it. You can sit and be entertained for a month while only having to move one thumb. And if you aren’t picky about what you watch, you don’t even have to do that. My bride, Ginger, knows I have this problem, and bless her heart, she actually called Iceland ahead of our visit to inquire as to their television situation.

She found out that the satellite dishes in Iceland can pick up American satellites. Do you know what that means? I can go to Iceland and watch, in English, Gilligan not get rescued, Hogan not get caught, and Jethro Bodine never do anything remotely intelligent. How great is that?

That first morning on the farm, I pulled what I was working on over and excitedly turned on the TV. There was no Gilligan, no Hogan, no Jethro Bodine. There was no American anything. It seems that sometimes when you’re cheep, you and a blizzard arrive in Iceland at the same time. Satellite dishes cannot see anybody’s satellites during a blizzard. But it’s okay. I’m an addict and not very picky about what I watch. I found a music video station and settled down to work.

After several minutes, I glanced up, and they were playing an advertisement for a beach. You know, everyone walking around practically naked, sand, surf, big guys kicking sand on little guys.

The scene changed to an advertisement for a nightclub. It was darker. The people were better dressed. They were dancing, flirting, hooking up, having a great time.

Then the scene changed again to a cartoon drawing of a naked couple. They were—let’s say—demonstrating a position from the Kama Sutra. This particular position shares part of its name with a yoga posture—and your pooch at home. Then the picture changed, same couple, different position. Then another. Then another. It went on and on.

More than any other time on our trip I wished I spoke Icelandic. I really wanted to know what the narrator was saying about this truly athletic couple. I sincerely hoped this was a new, excellent exercise program being pushed by the Icelandic government. Which would, by the way, make the Icelandic government the best ever. But I don’t think it was. If it had been, I have faith that by now we would have seen a half-hour infomercial on the innovative new weight loss program, developed in India and perfected in Iceland. Guaranteed you will lose weight if you follow the program and a reasonable diet.

What I finally decided was that after the crass capitalism of the commercial, the TV station felt guilty. To give something back, really as a public service, they included the little educational segment on the Kama Sutra.

Watching commercials reminded me of the US. We will advertise anything. We even have commercials for beaches and nightclubs. Of course, we’d never do that Kama Sutra thing. Let’s face it, as a culture, we fully embrace our capitalism and never feel any need to give anything back.

This got me to thinking about those things in Iceland that were almost like the US with a twist.

The toilets in Iceland look like ours, and they work like ours. By that I mean they have seats. No hovering is required. It sounds like a small thing, but it made me happy. But where we only have one choice to flush, they have two. Depending on what you did in there, you have a choice. If you… Let’s say, if you left liquid waste you pushed one button and if you left solid waste the other. These buttons had pictograms to tell you which was which. I’m not even going to describe what they looked like.

They have computers in Iceland and the internet. We actually received an e-mail on the farm computer while we were there. When I went to answer it, I found their keyboard looked just like ours until I got to the little finger on the right hand. They had extra letters where the brackets and semi-colon were supposed to be. I have to admit that I randomly threw a few of these into my e-mail jut to confuse our friends.

Exit signs. Exit signs in the US are simple. They just say EXIT. This is how you get out of the building. We visited Quebec recently. They’re bilingual so their exit signs are a little more complicated. They say exit in French, exit in English, then if neither of those work for you, there’s a pictogram of a little guy calmly walking to the door.

Isn’t that what every emergency announcement you’ve ever heard says? “Do not run. Calmly walk to the door and exit the building.”

Here is an exit sign from Iceland. Their exit signs have the same little dude from Canada, but he is not calmly walking anywhere. He’s clearly running. 

What does their emergency announcement say? “Run. Run now. We can only save ten people. If you want to live, run.” Is it like opening Wal-Mart doors on black Friday only in reverse?

I guess the biggest difference we saw in Iceland was the weather and how we dressed for riding. Here is a picture of Ginger riding in South Carolina.

Notice she has a sweater tied around her waist in case the temperature drops below 73.

Here’s a picture of Ginger riding in Iceland. Okay, you’ll have to take my word for it. This is Ginger.

I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. Things are different on the big island, but we had a great time. The people work hard, but they also play hard. The landscape is stark but beautiful. In the same day, we saw glaciers, waterfalls, and geysers. The little horses were wonderful. The weight limit for these little horses is actually higher than the big mules at the Grand Canyon. I’ll guarantee that if we weren’t already feeding three horses and a mule, Ginger would have brought one little mare named Isobel home with us.

I guess the real test of any vacation is whether or not a person would do it again. Ginger and I have talked about it, and we would. Of course, if we did, I don't think we'd do it on the cheep.

I’m pretty sure we’d wait for July.