The Icelandic Canadian - 01.11.2007, Side 29

Vol. 61 #2
THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
71
Snorri experience
by Sara Loftson
Life is lived in moments. And every
moment of my first trip to Iceland with the
Snorri Program this past summer made me
feel fully alive and proud to be Icelandic.
Pressing my nose against the window
as the bus passed by huge stone statues out-
side of Keflavik airport. Brushing my teeth
to the sound of Hallsgrimkirkja's clanging
bells. Choking down rotten shark and
chasing it with Black Death. Gasping for
breath while walking up Mount Esja.
Sharing a laugh with the president of
Iceland in his home. Stopping the car to let
a family of sheep pass on the highway.
Feeling the tap of a screeching turn's pencil
point beak on the back of my head on
Grimsey Island. Smiling into the bright red
midnight sun.
Hearing my name being said with a
thick Icelandic accent. Tasting the sweet
warmth of freshly home cooked pon-
nukokurs. Holding a handful of dried up
lava bits at the Krafla. Sniffing out tiny
black flies at Myvatn as they tickled the
inside of my nostrils.
Smelling fresh unpolluted air as I rode
my bike down a hillside in Akueryi.
Shredding important documents by acci-
dent while working at Landsbankinn.
Waiting in anticipation for a whale to
emerge from beneath the Atlantic Ocean.
Bumping up and down a dirt road on the
back of an Icelandic horse.
Crashing into the water after falling
out of a river raft. Caking on a gooey silica
mud mask while basking Blue Lagoon's
geothermal waters. Walking through the
continental rift at Thingvellir. Reciting the
Lord's Prayer in Icelandic by memory dur-
ing a talent show.
My six-week excursion to Iceland with
the Snorri Program feels like but a moment
in time, yet I know these memories will
stay imprinted on my heart forever.
Sara Loftson with a handful of lava.