Iceland: The Challenges and the Joy of Living

Iceland was our first trip alone with Lorenzo. He was 2 years old and would turn 3 during the trip. It started feeling like the worst decision of our lives.

We arrived on a day of a famous windstorm. The airport was completely closed, and we had to wait five hours on the plane, with 16 flights ahead of us to get off the plane. Between the fear of the unknown and accepting the situation, we ended up sneaking into business class for some fun: watching movies, getting chocolates, and even visiting the cockpit to talk with the pilot.

When we finally got out, the wind was strong enough to almost lift Lorenzo’s stroller while he was sleeping. It was overwhelming. We picked up our rental car and drove to Reykjavik. We arrived at 10 PM — a trip that should have ended at 2 PM — exhausted. Pablo stopped the car in a no-parking spot so I could get out with Lorenzo, and the second surprise: the car wouldn’t start again. We spent almost the entire next day waiting for the rental company to deliver another car.

On the third day, I woke up with the feeling, “now we’re going to really enjoy this trip.” We went to our first cabin and visited a glacier we came across along the way, since we had no planned itinerary. A rainstorm soaked us completely during the visit. The challenges were many, but by then, we had started laughing at everything.

We visited tomato farms and Lorenzo got a little birthday candle there, we saw horses, walked through landscapes completely different from what we knew in Brazil, and slept in cabins trying to see the Northern Lights — with no luck, of course.

One day, we took the car to explore around and ended up in a village called Vik. We found an empty restaurant and had the best fish and chips of our lives. There was a beach there, so we surprised Lorenzo with a treasure hunt we had planned: finding Olaf in Iceland.

This trip became the memory of everything they brought us: the challenges and the joy of living through them. We took a photo in the middle of the road, which now hangs at the entrance of our home, capturing exactly what we felt in that moment: the beginning of the life we wanted to live together. Writing about it now, I realize it wasn’t about Iceland itself, but everything we experienced together.