The Icelandic Canadian - 01.12.2001, Side 36

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THE ICELANDIC CANADIAN
Vol. 56 #3
My husband Hallgrimur at Indian Head,
Saskatchewan.
was harder to imagine their suffering, their
pain and disappointment the first year in
the Promised Land. Besides having to
experience completely different conditions,
almost one-third of the first settlers died
from smallpox the first year. But, the
Icelanders were used to hardship, and their
strong spirit seems to have helped them. I
cannot deny that at some point I felt sad to
have missed all these good people from my
country. What would Iceland be like if
they had never left? However, I feel very
strongly that they have not quite left; the
history of these people appeals greatly to
me and is a part of me as a person.
It is not right to forget oneself in nos-
talgia. We left the prairies and soon the
landscape changed: granite rocks, frozen
lakes and pine forest most of the way to
Thunder Bay. In Thunder Bay we had been
invited to stay with Dennis’ sister Louise
and her husband Rod, people we had never
met. Their gentleness and hospitality
towards us was unforgettable, with home-
made breakfast served on an embroidered
white tablecloth.
The hospitality we received continued
to warm us, which was fortunate, as the
next two days of our trip was wintry.
Through Northern Ontario, along Lake
Superior, the weather was bad, with con-
stant snow and rain, causing us to miss a
part of Canada we had been told was very
beautiful. But other things were notewor-
thy. In a supermarket in Ontario, we sud-
denly realized that people no longer spoke
English, but French, and on the merchan-
dise, the French text was now turned for-
ward. This change made us feel that we had
arrived in a different world. We wondered
if this difference emerged in any other way,
and we saw that the design of houses and
surroundings had differed from those of
Saskatchewan and Manitoba.
To our pleasure, in Rouyn Noranda,
we found a small museum that displays the
lives of Canadians in the beginning of the
last century. We could see a post office, a
store, equipment, and a family house. To
my surprise, I saw many utensils that my
grandmother had used when I was growing
up. But my grandmother did not have this
grand kitchen stove with a mirror on top,
which allowed her to watch the children
come and go and served many other func-
tions. The kitchen stove was both elegant
and superior, which can also be said of
Ottawa and Quebec City, where we spent
the next few days. In some ways, Ottawa
reminded me of Prague, the most beautiful
city of cites, and in Quebec the atmosphere
of European culture and French bourgeois
is prominent—a pleasant experience.
A large part of our trip across Canada
was through the countryside, with con-
trasting landscape and views. As we drove
along the St. Lawrence River on our way to
New Brunswick, we thought for a while
that we were back in Iceland—in
EyjafjorSur, with its showy mountains,
large farms, and small villages. Later, in
wonderful weather, we drove along the St.
John River in Grand River Valley. The
view was fabulous as we drove through
Bath, Bristol, and Hartland. In Hartland,
we saw a covered bridge, “a kissing
bridge.” Stuctured in this way, the bridges
were built to last longer, animals had less
fear of crossing, and the structure allowed
people to be affectionate behind the walls.