This is what sustained us
We’ll always have Iceland and Copenhagen
“We’ll always have Paris,” Rick tells Ilsa near the end of the film “Casablanca.” But how can they be so sure?
For me, to “always have” something means to put it in words and then write it down. So, when Andy and I traveled to Iceland and Copenhagen to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary, I knew I would be keeping a journal. I couldn’t risk forgetting one moment — from the 21 hours of daylight in Iceland to the omnipresent bicycles in Copenhagen, which capture the capital more accurately than the statue of the Little Mermaid.
On the other hand, there were a few moments I would rather forget. For example, despite cautiously climbing the basalt columns of the Gerduberg Cliffs, I kept tripping over my rain poncho. One boot got wedged between two rocks. Clearly, the ascent was too steep and slippery for my comfort level. By the time I reached the top of the cliffs, I was covered in mud and looked like my grandson on a good day at the playground.
It suddenly dawned on me, “Andy is trying to kill me on this vacation.”
Why hadn’t it occurred to me before?
More evidence surfaced at the Geysir geothermal area, which spewed steam, smoke, and boiling water. One misstep and the hot springs could scald an absentminded tourist (that’s me) in a nanosecond.
On another day, a guide led us on a hike on the icy crevasses of Solheimajokull (“Home of the Sun”) Glacier. We had the required safety equipment: crampons, harness, helmet, and ax. But since I cling to the banister when I climb up and down the staircase in my house, I wondered what the heck I was doing on a glacier holding an ax.
Then, there was the two-mile trek to the open elevator that would take us 380 feet to the floor of a 4,500-year-old volcano. Once again, wearing a harness and a helmet (this time, with a headlamp!), we explored the colorful bowels of the earth. The characters in Jules Verne’s “Journey to the Center of the Earth” spend two months in a volcano and underground. I was relieved when, after 40 minutes, our guide announced, “Elevator’s ready. Time to go back to base camp.”
Of course, not every experience was harrowing. Traveling along Iceland’s Golden Circle and Ring Road, Andy and I enjoyed panoramic views in every direction. Roadside sheep and Icelandic horses dotted the landscape. We soaked ourselves in the Sky Lagoon and didn’t mind the occasional sprays from the many waterfalls we visited.
In Reykjavik, the National Museum of Iceland helped us appreciate the history and geology of the country. The concert at Harpa Concert Hall reminded us that unusual architecture and beautiful music are universal delights.
Whereas Iceland was mostly like one big national park, Copenhagen was a vibrant city that welcomed us with sunshine (most of the time), and engaging experiences, such as the romantic Nyhavn Harbor and the old-fashioned Tivoli Gardens.
The National Museum of Denmark provided a solid foundation for understanding the country, including its special relationship with Greenland. Greenland? Uh oh. We hung our heads in shame as we wandered through that exhibit.
The Great Synagogue, guarded by military police 24/7, was closed to the public. What a shame we couldn’t see the interior. We tried to imagine 300 years of Jewish life behind the walls. Our 120-year-old suburban synagogue, guarded by local police, came to mind.
We journeyed through 400 years of Jewish history in the Danish Jewish Museum, which emphasized how ordinary Danish citizens saved 95 percent of the country’s Jewish population in 1943 by smuggling them out of the country.
Now that we are back home in New Jersey, I think about the miles we walked in all kinds of weather. I think about how herring and Icelandic char are now my favorite foods, especially if they are followed by an authentic “Danish” pastry for dessert.
I smile remembering the few Icelandic words that I studied for two weeks, determined to use them in restaurants and hotels. Imagine my disappointment when I heard the natives conversing in flawless English and the restaurant staff speaking English, Italian, and Spanish. No wonder they looked at me quizzically when I said ‘Takk” (thank you) and “Bless” (Bye) every time we left the table.
I think of how Andy really loves me — after all, he sacrificed watching the Knicks win the NBA finals to have our second honeymoon.
Finally, I think about the magnificent Danish/Norwegian word I learned on this trip: HYGGE (“hyoo-gah”). It is a warm, cozy feeling you get by enjoying simple things — spending quality time with friends and family, being content with your life, and feeling grateful for its many blessings. It can be a noun, a verb, or an adjective.
Now I realize that love, mazel, and hygge have sustained us throughout our 50 years together.
Merrill Silver and her husband, Andy, live in Montclair. She’s a freelance writer and retired ESL teacher whose work has appeared in the New York Times, Hadassah magazine, the Forward, the New York Jewish Week, and other publications. Find her at merrillsilver.wordpress.com