I recently received a phone call from an exhilarated friend who had come up with the most brilliant idea. “I want to be a pirate and drink rum on the beach all day. I want to visit your country, Puerto Rico.”

My friend and his girlfriend flew Icelandair to New York and then hopped on another plane. I was no longer a fish out of water. They were now in my territory and highlighted for me what struck them most about their first impressions of my miniscule island in the Caribbean.

The Icelandic pixie was in awe of our facial palette. She couldn’t believe no two people looked alike and how our skin shades could form a rainbow. Next was the conclusion that salsa music was not the corny cha-cha she had seen in Reykjavík. She was in awe of the sensual street-style in which people pulsated. And lastly, shock that we could out-drink Icelanders, which was an observation made while hugging the toilet seat her first night.

There were many more interesting observations my friends afforded me about my country, which got me thinking about my initial perspective of Iceland. Upon my first arrival to this enchanted island of the North, I was struck by how cold it was. I had never worn a sweater in the summer before. The next surprise was that the high prices for lodging, food, and alcohol were actually even more expensive than what I had been warned.

After my initial shock at the climate and króna, I noticed I could actually breathe through my nostrils. A feat I had rarely accomplished. And not only was my nose unplugged, I was smelling the sweetest and freshest air I had had the privilege to inhale.

Then when I tried to buy bottled water, the cashier refused telling me that it was the same as their tap water and that the bottled water was only for tourist. I decided to trust her. After all I was incredibly thirsty and she would not let go of my bottled water.

I am glad I did. What a divine experience to stick your tongue under the faucet and have pure spring water trickling down your throat! I could get rid of the guilty conscious that accompanies drinking daily bottled water from Fiji. No more unnecessary plastic to recycle. I was in awe of the quality of water and the fact that it is free and readily available for everyone, as it should be.

My last preliminary astonishment was my sudden urges to jump into any form of water: rivers, ocean, and waterfalls. The summer I am used to is so humid and hot that you feel like an ice cream cone that is slowly but irrevocably melting. Therefore, it is crime not to jump into the first batch of water you see to refresh yourself.

Iceland’s water seemed so magical to me. Seaweed green lakes glistened in the sun as if diamonds danced along their surface. Rivers gently roared like brave lions. I wished they would purr so that I could embrace their opal currents and allow the naiad in me to swirl in their whirlpools. The turquoise pools that formed beneath glorious waterfalls beckoned my name but I controlled my passionate impulse to throw myself in their mist.

Once I was too overwhelmed and decided to try my luck immersing myself in the ocean convincing myself that I was a polar bear and not a Puerto Rican parrot. I think I lasted three seconds before the cold numbed my legs and I ran out of the beach in disbelief. But those three seconds in which I felt like a paralyzed peppermint were oh-so worth it. 

As I recounted some of my foreign reflections to my friends bronzing under the tropical sun, we swung like a rhythmic pendulum on cotton hammocks. Our verbal exchange provided for interesting insights into our unique cultures that we had maybe taken for granted or simply overlooked.

AH – alehertell@gmail.com

Alexandra is filling in for Marvi who is away on holiday.