mom and dad,
who always told me I should write a book,
who never gave up until I did.
A general overview of our route through Iceland.
Since leaving Newfoundland to work abroad, Sunday evenings have been established as the time I receive a phone call from home. We go over our week, the family gossip and we also discuss any planned (or recently completed) trips. When I returned from Iceland I was looking forward to the call.
My parents were late comers to the 21st century. It was not until November 2010 that they installed an internet connection in the house. My mother at least had access at work. My father on the other hand works outside and up until the very recent past viewed a keyboard with abject horror. As such the summer I was in Iceland I had very little contact with my father.
My mother printed off my emails, blog entries and the pictures I posted, so the man was not completely in the dark. I, however, had no contact with him at all and I was looking forward to speaking with him for the first time in almost two months.
My first evening at home happened to be a Sunday. I answered the phone not to amazement over the images I had posted online but rather to my father declaring that "Iceland looked an awful lot like Newfoundland."
"Sure by', if you wanted volcanoes you could've saved your money or used it to come home. I would've built a fire in the backyard and thrown hot rocks at ya!” (This is the same man that when I first began to travel said that if it was excitement that I was looking for, he could shoot at me while I ran around in the backyard.)
This is not to say my father does not believe in travel. Whenever he visits me in Germany we spend more time in the surrounding countries than not. But he does have firm beliefs on the importance of the safety of his children and he feels it is much better that we stay at home while he does the traveling.
He was not too far off when he said Iceland looked a lot like Newfoundland, there were times on this trip I positively ached with homesickness. I was surrounded by scenery that reminded me of home, only there was no comfort food to indulge in or family to be around. Having said that, the interior of Iceland is like nothing I have ever seen before and perhaps that is partially why I loved it so much. Iceland's interior was an adventure and this is why I travel by motorcycle, to be so deep in the scenery as to be part of it, without a window or metal cage locking me inside and forcing me to look out.