Icelandic Swimming Pool Culture Nominated for UNESCO Status

Swimming pool in Iceland

Icelandic “swimming pool culture” could be added to UNESCO’s list of Intangible Cultural Heritage. Lilja Dögg Alfreðsdóttir, minister of culture and business, has confirmed a nomination for it to be added, Heimildin reports. This is Iceland’s first independent nomination for the list, which includes things like Chinese shadow puppetry, Inuit drum dancing and singing, French baguette bread and Finnish sauna culture.

Physical and spiritual

The nomination comes with multiple statements of support from municipalities, sports and swimming societies and swimming pool guests. They include stories, experiences and attitudes towards swimming pools in Iceland with discussions on their meaning and importance, according to a statement from the ministry.

The nomination has been prepared fro some time by the Árni Magnússon Institute for Icelandic Studies and the National Museum of Iceland. “Swimming pool culture holds a special and important place in the daily life of Icelanders,” said Lilja. “Meeting in the hot tub or taking the family swimming is a social connection which is invaluable and makes its mark, not only physically, but spiritually as well.”

Big part of everyday life

According to a recent survey, 79% of adults in Iceland go to swimming pools. Some 120 public pools operate in Iceland and are a big part of everyday life all around the country.

The process for UNESCO evaluation is 18 months, so it will be revealed in December 2025 whether Icelandic swimming pool culture will be added to the list.

Exploring the Westfjords in 24, 48, and 72 hours

Summer in Hornstrandir, Westfjords.

With many unpaved, narrow and meandering mountain roads, the Westfjords are a place of slow and careful travel. Seemingly short distances can be long in reality, which will be your main obstacle when visiting the Westfjords with a limited amount of days at hand. Having a predetermined plan with estimated travel times can come in handy to tackle this, but being flexible is also key. Most importantly, though, enjoy the scenic journey, not just the destinations!

Day one

7-9 AM

Make your way to the Westfjords. If you have a long drive before reaching them, for example, travelling from Reykjavík, we recommend heading off at 7 AM to make the most of your day. The itinerary includes lunch and dinner stops where you can buy food, but pack something to snack on between meals. 

11:30 PM

Your first stop will be for lunch at Flókalundur in Vatnsfjörður fjord. If you brought your own lunch, head up to the campsite picnic tables or spread out on the grass by the shore. You can also purchase lunch at Hótel Flókalundur. 

12:30 PM

Depart from Flókalundur and drive to your next destination: Rauðisandur Beach.  The journey will take a bit more than an hour. Rauðisandur, or Red Sand, is a truly magnificent place picked as one of the top 100 beaches of the world by Lonely Planet. The beach, stretching for 12-13 km [7.5-8 miles], gets its name from the uniquely pink and reddish shades of its sand, stemming from the shell of the Icelandic Scallop.

A mountain road in the Westfjords.
Photo: Golli. A mountain road in the Westfjords.

2:30 PM

Head off to your next destination, which is the renowned Dynjandi Waterfall. 100 metres [328 feet] tall and spreading out on the cliffs like a veil, it‘s a spectacular sight. You can hike up to the waterfall on a rocky path, passing by several other smaller waterfalls on the way. The area is a natural protected monument, so please stay on the paths to help preserve it. To take in more of the Westfjords’ unique landscape on the way to Dynjandi, opt for road 63 rather than 62, which you drove from Flókalundur. The drive will be about 2 hours. Should you be in need of an atmospheric snack spot before you arrive at Dynjandi, stop by the Abandoned Barn of Fossfjörður fjord. 

5:30 PM

If you‘re not planning on staying the night in the Westfjords, this is the time to circle back. If you are staying, drive the 50-minute drive to Ísafjörður for dinner at Húsið restaurant. Their fish soup is particularly popular among guests and a must-try if you haven‘t had Icelandic fish soup yet. For those not ready to go to bed after dinner, we recommend driving to the Bolafjall mountain viewing platform, which has an absolutely breathtaking view of the mountains and ocean lying before it. For lodgings, we recommend The Little House or Einarshúsið Guesthouse in Bolungarvík, a small village 15 minutes from the platform. 

Day two

8 AM

Start your day off with a Kringla and Kókómjólk at Kaffihús Bakarans bakery in Ísafjörður. This is a classic Icelandic combo of torus-shaped carraway bread and chocolate milk. 

9:30 AM

Head off on a guided trip to Hesteyri, a tiny village deserted in 1952. Now, it serves as a summer resort for local owners and is a popular starting point for hikers exploring the Hornstrandir Nature Reserve. Due to its isolation and lack of inhabitants, nature has been left mostly undisturbed. As a result, you will experience Iceland’s most pristine flora and fauna, with wildflowers spreading over the entire area and arctic foxes running between them. You can bring lunch or order it from the local cafe, The Doctor‘s House.

Note: The trip to Hesteyri can only be made from the beginning of June to the end of August. 

An arctic fox on a beach in Hornstrandir, Westfjords.
Photo: Golli. An arctic fox on a beach in Hornstrandir, Westfjords.

2:30 PM

When you get back, take a walk around town and pop into the Westfjords Heritage Museum to gain a better insight into the Westfjord‘s culture and maritime history. If you‘re cold and tired, you can also make your way straight to your accommodations for the night: Heydalur farm guesthouse. There, you‘ll be able to take refuge in their unique swimming pool and natural hot spring before having a delicious locally sourced dinner. If you‘re yet to try the Icelandic lamb, we highly recommend having the lamb fillet. The drive from Ísafjörður to Heydalur will take a bit less than two hours. If your plans do not include another night in the Westfjords, you can start your journey back after dinner.

Day three

8 AM

For your last day in the Westfjords, you‘ll head over to the north side for an adventure in Strandir straight after breakfast. Your destination is Krossneslaug, a small swimming pool on a beach in the middle of nowhere. It‘s probably the most remote swimming pool you‘ll find in Iceland. It‘s been in use since 1954 and has a terrific view of the ocean, where you might be able to spot some whales if you‘re lucky. The drive will take about 3 hours, which sounds like a lot but don‘t worry; half of it is on the most scenic road you can take in Iceland.

Note: Due to road conditions, Krossneslaug can only be reached from mid-May to the end of August.

Krossneslaug swimming pool in Westfjords.
Photo: Golli. Krossneslaug swimming pool in Westfjords.

12:30 PM

Begin the 50-minute drive to Djúpavík, a historical, abandoned and enchanting village where you can have a late lunch at Hótel Djúpavík and a guided tour of the old herring factory. The village is known for its ability to take you back in time and was one of the filming locations of the 2017 Justice League.

3:30 PM

It‘s time to venture back to civilisation for the last stop of your Westfjords tour. The Museum of Icelandic Sorcery and Witchcraft is located in Hólmavík, and it will take you approximately an hour and a half to get there from Djúpavík. The museum offers you to step into the time of Galdrafárið, the witch hunt hysteria, and learn about the lives of people in Strandir during that period. The latest time to enter is 5:30 PM, so make sure to leave Djúpavík no later than 3:30 PM. This should give you about an hour to explore, as the drive takes approximately an hour and a half. End your day with a scrumptious meal at Café Riis in Hólmavík, which serves high-quality Icelandic classics and pizzas. 

Nauthólsvík Beach in Reykjavík, Iceland

Nauthólsvík Beach in Reykjavík, Iceland

What is Nauthólsvík?

Nauthólsvík is a recreational area in Reykjavík. It includes a yellow sand beach in a sectioned-off bay. On the shore is a 30-39°C [86-102°F] hot tub and a pool with a temperature of 38°C [100°F]. The sectioned-off lagoon has a temperature of 15-19°C [59-66°F]. Aside from the Siglunes Sailing Club, Nauthólsvík has clubs for water sports, diving, and open-water swimming.

The Nauthólsvík bathing area first opened in 2000, to the joy of locals. Imported golden sand had been pumped onto the man-made beach to give it a Mediterranean look since Icelandic beaches are usually black. A stone barrier sections off the coast, where geothermal water meets the cold water from the bay. Walking on the golden sand and stepping into the warm sea gave locals a taste of summer travel.

Nauthólsvík has a service centre with changing and showering facilities and a snack bar. During the winter, Nauthólsvík is open Tuesday-Friday from 11 AM to 7 PM and Saturdays from 11 AM to 4 PM. On Sundays and Mondays, the beach and its facilities are closed. During the summer, The entry fee to Nauthólsvík is ISK 890 [$6.50, €6]. You can rent a towel and a bathing suit in the reception for a fee.

Dining in Nauthólsvík

Besides the snack bar at the service centre, there are two restaurants by Nauthólsvík: Bragginn Bar and Nauthóll. Bragginn Bar is a new restaurant that offers drinks, hamburgers, tacos and chicken wings. It is located in a renovated 1940s military barracks. Their kitchen is open on Wednesdays from 11:30 AM to 8 PM and Thursday to Saturday from 11:30 AM to 8:30 PM. The bar’s closing time varies. The other restaurant, Nauthóll, serves Icelandic cuisine, such as lamb, fish and salads. They serve brunch, dinner, desserts and coffee and are open daily from 11 AM to 10 PM. Both restaurants have indoor and outdoor seating, including views of the bay.

How do I get to Nauthólsvík?

Getting to Nauthólsvík from the city centre is quite simple. If you take the bus, you can take line 8 from Gamla Hringbraut, across the street from the BSÍ bus terminal in downtown Reykjavík. The ride is about 15 minutes long, and as of 2024, the fare is ISK 630 [$4.60, €4.20], payable through the Klapp bus app or with exact change on the bus. Nauthólsvík is about 2.2 km [1.4 mi] from the BSÍ bus terminal, so the ride is about five minutes if you go by car. You can also walk down Nauthólsvegur street, which intersects with Hringbraut road by the bus terminal.


Pooling Together

iceland swimming pool

The ideal Icelandic hot tub, which takes the shape of a circle, finds its prototype in Reykholt, West Iceland. 

It’s there, on the historical property of writer, historian, and chieftain Snorri Sturluson, that a wooden doorway, leading from an underground passageway, baked into the side of a green hillock, opens up onto a short stone walkway. This walkway leads to a ring of more stone, in the middle of which sits a pool, fed by a hot spring, and dug into the ground so that it’s level with the Earth. While the current iteration of the pool is based on a contemporary mason’s guesswork, historical records show that Snorri Sturluson bathed in a pool of this kind, and, perhaps – looking out onto the vault of heaven – philosophised on the origins of life:

“And the spirit of Fimbultyr moved upon the face of the deep,” Snorri wrote in the Prose Edda (the world’s most complete source for Norse mythology), “until the ice-cold rivers […] came in contact with the dazzling flames from Muspelheim […] and Fimbultyr said: ‘Let the melted drops of vapour quicken into life’.” 

Indeed, there is a special kind of vitality born at the intersection of heat and cold, a quickening of the soul that is familiar to all those who have descended into the warm waters of an Icelandic hot tub on a cold winter’s day. This feeling of vitality, of rejuvenation, forms a not insignificant part of the appeal of Icelandic pools, for the tubs – at least to any mind unnaturally preoccupied with historical throughlines – always seem to hearken back to Snorri’s pool in Reykholt. 

And not without reason.

iceland pool swimming
iceland pool
vesturbæjarlaug reykjavík

Mirrored stages

The first public pool in Iceland to feature a hot tub was Vesturbæjarlaug in West Reykjavík, which opened in 1961. The outside area was conceived of by architect Gísli Halldórsson, who drew upon the design of Snorralaug for the pool’s two hot tubs. Their dimensions are precisely equivalent to Snorralaug, and tubs of this kind were originally referred to as Snorralaugar, or Snorri Pools.

Filmmaker Jón Karl Helgason, who recently released the excellent documentary Sundlaugasögur (Swimming Pool Stories), grew up going to Vesturbæjarlaug. He was six when the pool opened and would accompany his father to the pool every day after school. This father-son routine persisted until Jón Karl graduated from high school. 

Things were different back then.

jón karl helgason
Filmmaker Jón Karl Helgason

“Because there were so few changing rooms, you were only allowed to stay for an hour at a time,” Jón Karl explains. “You’d be handed a coloured bracelet when you entered, and at regular intervals, the pool guards would yell something like: ‘Everyone with a yellow bracelet must get out now!’ My friends and I, however, were quick to game the system. We’d collected all the different coloured bracelets so that we could stay as long as we’d like.”

As Jón Karl notes, the phases of many an Icelander’s life are neatly mirrored in their evolving relationship with the pools. “It begins at six or seven,” he observes, “during mandatory swimming lessons in elementary school. From there, the pools become a kind of playground. Then they serve as convenient venues to bring boyfriends or girlfriends, or to meet your friends. And then, later in life, you bring your kids along.”

I add one overlooked phase of his narrative, the libertine twenties: “When the pools were the perfect place to recover from a hangover.”

Jón Karl laughs. “Yes, it’s good – going to the pool the day after.”

hveragerði swimming pool
hveragerði sundlaug

A brief history of Icelandic pools

The tagline of Jón Karl’s Swimming Pool Stories reads as follows: “The Russians have their vodka. The Finns have their saunas. And the Icelanders have their pools.” 

But unlike those first two, Icelandic swimming pool culture is relatively young. It began in the early 20th century, when a national awakening to the inordinate number of drownings among fishermen was taking place.

reykjavík pool
iceland swimming pool
reykjavík swimming pool

Wednesday’s are “slide days” in Suðurbæjarlaug in Hafnarfjörður. On the day we visit, we meet two regulars: ducks, one green and one white, who commonly stroll around the outside area – and sometimes swim a few laps.

A newspaper article anticipating the founding of the Lifesaving Association of Iceland (SVFÍ) in 1928 noted that 1,754 Icelanders had drowned during the first quarter of the century, most at sea. The authors pointed out that other seafaring nations had long since established similar associations: the English in 1824, the Danes in 1852, the Norwegians in 1891, and the Swedes in 1907. “We are lagging behind,” they observed.

Besides the establishment of lifesaving associations, swimming pools were also a way to prevent deaths at sea. Their construction began at around the turn of the 19th century, so the natives could learn to swim. Some initially opposed the initiative by the rationale that teaching fishermen to swim would only serve to “prolong the agony of drowning.” But as more and more pools were constructed around the country – usually around sources of geothermal heat – and as swimming lessons grew more common, deaths among fishermen grew less and less frequent.

swimming pool reykjavík

These days, drownings off the coast of Iceland are almost unheard of. Modern technology and improved weather forecasting has, of course, played a significant role in this regard, but it would be unwise to discount the effect of swimming instruction in Iceland. As the headmaster of the Maritime Safety and Survival Training Centre in Iceland once noted, swimming instruction accounts for “a total of 800 minutes per year in Icelandic primary school.”

“It’s ironic to think that more people currently drown in our swimming pools than at sea,” I remark somewhat hesitantly to Jón Karl, aware that as a child in Akureyri, he witnessed a drowning.

“I must have been five or six,” Jón Karl recounts. “I wasn’t actually in the pool myself; my mother had gone for a dip, and I, standing on the edge of the pool, fully clothed, noticed a young girl, wearing a red bathing suit, lying motionless on the bottom of the pool. I called for help, and my father immediately dived in after her. He tried to resuscitate her. But to no avail. It was a distressful experience, which later engendered a sense of care when it came to my own kids.” 

The great equalisers

Jón Karl began shooting Swimming Pool Stories in 2013. 

Filming took much longer than expected for he would often visit the pools where he intended to shoot three or four times in order to establish a connection with patrons. (He visited nearly 100 pools). It was only when he had become something of a patron himself that he felt confident enough to bring along equipment to record audio. Then a small camera – then a bigger one. 

Most of Jón Karl’s interviewees were over 80 (eight of them have died since the film was released) as he wanted to focus on those individuals who had been visiting their local pools for decades. 

hveragerði sundlaug

Ása visits the pool in Hveragerði, South Iceland every day. If she doesn’t, she begins to fidget. She moved to the town two years ago, to be closer to her sons. When we find her, she’s there with her elder son. The two of them have a close relationship: “He tells me everything. His friends sometimes say to him, whenever something noteworthy occurs: ‘You’re going to tell your mother about this, aren’t you?’.”

“I wanted people who could tell stories,” Jón Karl remarks. “People who had been swimming all their lives and who had become part of these pool communities. One of my interlocutors in the film, Hallgrímur from Þingeyri, West Iceland, told me that whenever someone from his group didn’t show up to the pool at the appointed hour – his companions would become concerned. I found that rather touching.”

Such “pool communities” have evolved all over Iceland, with people from all walks of life convening at their local pool at a fixed hour: Pottormarnir (a play on the Icelandic kenning meaning unruly boys, and the word for hot tub) in Hafnarfjörður; Morgunfrúrnar (Morning Dames) in Dalvík; and, perhaps most famous of all, Vinir Dóra (Friends of Dóri) in Vesturbæjarlaug.

Icelandic perception of swimming pools differs from what can be found in western literature, I tell Jón Karl. “Two things come to mind: the short story The Swimmer by John Cheever, where the protagonist decides to swim home by way of the private pools at the homes of suburbanites; and The Great Gatsby, where the titular character meets his death in a swimming pool. In both cases, there are connotations of wealth, whereas, in Iceland, the pools are equalisers. As the cliché goes: ‘in the pools everyone is equal.’”

“Yes, and admission to the pool is cheap – especially if you buy an annual subscription,” Jón Karl points out.

Perhaps the most notable example of this democratic intermingling in the public pools relates to Vigdís Finnbogadóttir, Iceland’s fourth president and the first democratically-elected female head of state in history. Even after she secured the presidency, Vigdís continued to frequent Vesturbæjarlaug, where every morning – still to this day – a group of pool-goers engage in a tightly-scripted regimen of exercises invented by Danish gymnastics educator J. P. Müller. Vigdís, as president, was not above participating.


In March of this year, Lilja Dögg Alfreðsdóttir, Minister of Culture and Business Affairs, submitted a memorandum to the government concerning Iceland’s nominations to UNESCO’s list of Intangible Cultural Heritage. The ministry’s two proposals were Icelandic laufabrauð (a Christmas season delicacy) and the country’s swimming pool culture.

“Swimming pool culture has been intertwined with the Icelandic national soul for many centuries,” Lilja wrote, “and has rarely been as vigorous as it is now. Many matters of national interest are discussed in the country’s pools, and it is a great honour for any intangible culture to be included in the UNESCO World Heritage List. And I believe that our swimming pool culture […] definitely belongs on that list.”


As noted by Lilja, the local pools are not only places of community, relaxation, and exercise – but also a venue for residents to engage in lively conversations about current affairs. In an article published in the New York Times in 2016, the writer Magnús Sveinn Helgason explained to reporter Dan Kois that because of the weather, the Icelanders “didn’t have proper plazas in the Italian or French style.” Furthermore, because beer was banned in Iceland until 1989, the country didn’t evolve a pub tradition in the manner of England or Ireland.

“The pool is Iceland’s social space,” Kois wrote, “where families meet neighbours, where newcomers first receive welcome, and where rivals can’t avoid one another.” Later in the article, Kois spoke to Mayor of Reykjavík Dagur B. Eggertsson who observed, “It can be hard for reserved Icelanders, who don’t typically talk to their neighbours in the store or in the street, to forge connections. In the hot tub, you must interact. There’s nothing else to do.”

There’s a family anecdote that sheds some light on just how engaging these tub talks can be. Some years back, my father went for an evening soak at the Suðurbæjarlaug public pool in Hafnarfjörður. Taking his place in one of the hot tubs, he became fully engrossed in what must have been a rather lively conversation with an acquaintance. At some point during the talk, a young man stood up from the hot tub and took his leave. My father’s acquaintance asked, “Say, wasn’t that your son?” My father looked at him as if he was half-mad. “No, no – he doesn’t look anything like that,” he replied.

The following morning, my younger brother met my father in the kitchen and commented in a rather ironic fashion: “Nice to see you at the pool yesterday.” I’m not sure who comes off as more eccentric in this story: my father, for not having recognised his own son at the pool; or my brother, for having recognised my father, but deciding not to greet him. 

Civil rights

In Jón Karl’s documentary, one of his interlocutors remarks: “If there wasn’t a public pool in Þingeyri (a town in the Westfjords of Iceland), it wouldn’t be habitable.” 

As a regular patron of the public pools, I sympathise with the sentiment, recalling a time when I was hunting for an apartment. Among the variables that I took into account was the property’s proximity to a public pool: If there was no pool within walking distance, then that strongly recommended against it. Luckily, it is rare, especially in the capital area, to encounter housing so far from a public pool so as to render walking unfeasible. As has often been observed, living in a place that’s within walking distance of a public pool is a kind of civil right in Iceland.

swimming pool iceland

“I read somewhere that there are 127 concrete pools in Iceland,” Jón Karl tells me. “And if you divide that by 380,000 (the rough population of Iceland), that comes to approximately one pool per every 3,000 residents. I was also told that something like 80,000 admissions are tallied every month in the Laugardalslaug swimming pool in Reykjavík; and I once reviewed data indicating that five to six million admission tickets were sold to Iceland’s pools every year.”

This may seem like a large number, but a quick back-of-the-envelope calculation may suggest otherwise. I visit a public pool, mostly the one in Hafnarfjörður, four to five times a week. That amounts to over 200 visits a year. If a tenth of the population frequent the pools with the same regularity as I do, that would mean over 7 million admissions annually. (Not including tourists).

Whatever the exact figure, the public pools in Iceland continue to evolve; what began as dirty mud holes, dug for the purpose of swimming instruction, have gradually morphed into ubiquitous modern facilities, featuring concrete pools, hot tubs, kid-friendly areas, waterslides, and, most recently perhaps, cold tubs: where patrons sit, shiver, and meditate, surrounded by a community of individuals who come for various reasons, and with varying regularity, and who, in the event of a protracted stay abroad – usually come to miss the Icelandic pools.

Without them, Iceland wouldn’t be habitable.

36 Pools Closed Due to Strikes

Pools across Iceland are being forced to close in the wake of strikes by BSRB. On May 15, BSRB, Iceland’s largest federation of public sector unions, comprising 19 labour unions with some 23,000 members, began strike action as part of its ongoing negotiations with the Icelandic Association of Local Authorities (SNS).

In total, 37 pools are affected. 36 pools are closing, with one Westman Island pool continuing operation with limited hours.

Read More: Preschool Staff on Strike in 11 Municipalities

In addition, some 70 preschools throughout Iceland are also affected by the public sector strike. Since the parties to the most recent contract negotiation have not been able to come to an understanding, the strike has affected 29 municipalities.

Freyja Steingrímsdóttir, communications director for BSRB, stated to Morgunblaðið: “to my knowledge, they are essentially all closed. It’s a safety measure that all working staff are trained, so when this happens, the swimming pools need to be closed.”

Read More: Strikes Likely to Force Closure of Swimming Pools

The strike could also have an impact on the June 17th (Iceland’s National Day) celebrations throughout the nation, Freyja stated. “This is a temporary strike,” she streed. “There is no activity, no practices, or anything while this continues unchanged,” she stated.

In addition to pools and preschools, municipal offices and nursing homes throughout Iceland are also seeing reduced operations as BSRB continue their negotiations with SNS.

Deep North Episode 10: First Among Equals

swimming pools iceland

Every weekday morning at the public pool in West Reykjavík (Vesturbæjarlaug), Halldór Bergmann – called Dóri – slips into his grey, square leg suit and declares that he shall swim 1,800 metres (1.1 miles). He is 68 years old, and, also, a great mangler of the truth. He swims only 200 metres (660 feet), on a good day, but does not like the facts getting in the way of a good time – and this may be his best quality: his penchant for childlike embellishment. It’s this trait, above any else, perhaps, that has won over a troop of loyal followers, and why those followers have, in the spirit of his own whimsy, taken to calling him “the Commander.”

In the latest episode of Deep North, we consider Icelandic swimming pool culture and ask: is the public swimming pool a wellspring of social democracy?

Capital Area Pools Closed to Conserve Hot Water


Pools throughout the capital region will be closed today due to the cold spell affecting Iceland.

Utility company Veitur will be cutting its supply of hot water to some of its largest users, in an attempt to reduce hot water use.

In response to Veitur’s reduction, Reykjavík City has made the decision to close the city’s pools today, January 19. The closures will also affect the bathing facilities at Nauthólsvík. The closures will also be in effect in the nearby towns of Mosfellbær and Kópavogur.

Bathers will however still be able to visit the pools in Garðabær, though water temperatures may be potentially lower than usual. The Seltjarnes pool will likewise continue to be open, as it is supplied directly from a geothermal borehole.

In a public statement, Veitur hopes to not have to limit the hot water supply for any longer than today, as warmer weather is expected. Pools are expected to open tomorrow, but this may be subject to change.

The pool closures come during one of the coldest winters in recent memory. This past December was the coldest since 1973, although average temperatures have risen slightly in January. Temperatures have been especially cold in the Reykjavík area, where it has not been colder (on average) since 1916.

In light of these unusual conditions, Veitur has also asked residents to help out in conserving hot water where possible. According to Veitur, some 90% of hot water use by Icelandic households goes towards heating alone. Residents are reminded to close doors and windows to conserve energy and to ensure that radiators aren’t blocked from heating the room.

A Splash of Happiness

baby swimming

Long before I got pregnant, I heard about parents in Iceland taking their newborns swimming from a colleague of mine who joined baby swimming classes with her infant. She shared her experiences online, and in one of her videos, her four-month- old son stood unaided in the hands of his swim teacher. I was intrigued; […]

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Broke Her Own Icelandic Record at Tokyo Olympics

swimmer Snæfríður Sól Jórunnardóttir

Icelandic swimmer Snæfríður Sól Jórunnardóttir broke her own Icelandic 200-metre freestyle record at her first-ever Olympic event in Tokyo today. She completed the event in 2:00.20, beating her previous record of 2:00.50 by 30/100 of a second.

Despite the impressive personal success, Snæfríður was the last of eight swimmers in Heat 3 and therefore will not proceed to the semifinals for the event. The swimmer will, however, compete in the 100-metre freestyle on Wednesday.

Snæfríður is one of four Icelanders competing in the Olympics this month and was one of Iceland’s two flagbearers in the opening ceremony last Friday. She is from Hveragerði, South Iceland and now lives in Denmark.