After much deliberation, my sister and I arrived at fair and just resolution to our problem: where should we meet? Who should visit whom? Who should do the traveling? The obvious compromise: meet where the tectonic plates of our respective continents meet, in Iceland. So in May, 2014 we both traveled to the end of our tectonic plate to the land of elves and midnight sun.
The journey was not without peril, though. Our innocent souls did not see the imminent danger when we decided to feed the enemy peanuts, but we managed to survive the attack of the ferocious Icelandic beast – the horse – and lived to see the rage of the underworld: Strokkur erupting.
At Gulfoss, over the rainbow, our dreams came true: to be together again. We took the untraveled path and in the midst of the Icelandinc wilderness, on a steep cliff above the deceivingly calm waters of Hvítá, we pulled out our iPhones and listened together to Anastasia songs again: “at the beginning with yooooooooouuuuu…”.
At Þingvellir we tossed a coin in the crack between our two tectonic plates and wished to be reunited. Unlike Icelanders who know when to sleep and when to wake up (even though there is nothing obvious about when that should be), we got lured out of our beds by the midnight sun deep into the world of hot springs and fuming lands. At 2 am, hiking alone in the middle of nowhere, on a landscape that looked like a piece of another reality, we realized the meaning of true magic: having the most amazing sister in the Universe.