It’s been over a week since we returned from Iceland.  I am now sitting in the Phoenix Sky Harbor airport, a pit stop on the way to Albuquerque for sacred time with my father.  As I flew from Sacramento to Phoenix, I read Doug Lansky’s “The Rough Guide First-Time Europe.”  The wanderlust bug has bitten me full-force, and I now officially ready travel books the way middle aged women read Danielle Steele novels.

What happened in those last few days in Iceland?  Well, the Sunday following Club NASA was spent in complete and total detox.  I don’t think we left our the apartment or changed out of pajamas the whole day.  We were beginning to get ready for the journey home, and I was actively yearning to be back home.

On Monday, we went for a horseback riding tour outside of Reykjavik.  I have not been on a horse in about 20 years, but it sounded like fun.  According to a program on YouTube, Icelandic horses have not been crossed-bred for over a thousand years, and therefore have developed a few unique characteristics.  They seem smaller than most horses, but have beautiful manes and a particular gait between their walk and trot known as a “tot.”  At least that’s what we found out when we began our riding.  Some poor Norwegian man and his daughter were on the tour, and his horse just would not cooperate.  The constant cries of “Nei, Nei!” as the horse stopped to eat grass and everything else in sight was comical.  And then it would gallop to catch up with us.  Thank goodness he was of good humor, because the existential despair of the whole situation would have defeated a less good-natured person.

In the days since returning, I have occasionally missed the energy of Iceland and its beauty.  The people, the alcohol, the landscapes, the alcohol, and the waters all reflect the ancient spirit that dwells in the place.  In combination with Iceland, it has awoken in me my desire to travel frequently and deeply, investigating the heart and spirit of places and how the reflect the space and presence within myself.  Takk fyrir for all those we met, all the things we saw, and the gifts–physical and spiritual–that continue to remain with me. 

Takk fyrir, too, for all the alcohol — I’ll send you the dialysis bill.