Put Me Back on the Plane

Summary

A young woman recounts her journey from the United States to Iceland to join her husband, experiencing a stark contrast in environment and lifestyle, and ultimately developing a deep appreciation for Iceland's unique beauty and culture before moving to Florida.

Abstract

Upon graduating high school, the author finds herself in an unexpected whirlwind of life changes, marrying young and moving to Iceland with limited resources. Despite initial culture shock and homesickness, she adapts to the alien landscape and slow-paced life of Iceland. Through exploration and adventure with her husband, she grows to love the country's otherworldly landscapes, hot springs, and rich folklore. The experience transforms her perspective, and upon returning to the U.S., she grapples with reverse culture shock and a longing to return to Iceland, which she now considers a second home.

Opinions

The author initially feels out of place in Iceland, comparing it to an alien planet due to its stark, volcanic landscapes.
She experiences a sense of loss and nostalgia for her home in Kansas, highlighting the stark difference between the familiar Midwest and the foreign terrain of Iceland.
The author's opinion of Iceland evolves from one of disdain to affection, as she and her husband immerse themselves in the country's natural wonders and local culture.
She expresses a clear preference for the tranquility and natural beauty of Iceland over the noisy, fast-paced life she encounters upon returning to the United States.
The author's experiences in Iceland have left her with a lasting impression, as she mourns the loss of the peaceful and star-filled nights she left behind.

The Land of Fire and Ice is beckoning my return.

I never thought that one year after graduating high school, I would be married and leave the United States. With $302 in my bank account, clothes on my back, and all of my most prized possessions stuffed into two suitcases and a carry-on bag, I was on an overseas flight to be with my husband.

My husband was not much older than me and was assigned to his first duty station at NAS Keflavik, Iceland. I knew ahead of my arrival that I had a steep learning curve ahead of me. Not only was I a young newlywed midwest country bride, but I was still learning how to be an adult. Pay taxes, shop with coupons and learn how to cook. So far, my Hamburger Helper skills were solid. Although I was confident knowing that it would take some time to adjust, nothing prepared me to live in Iceland.

When I heard the pilot announce to the cabin to prepare for the descent, I lifted the plastic shade of my widow to peer below. My eyes widened at the sight, and I muttered under my breath, “I can officially say I am not in Kansas anymore.”

Watching the landscape roll by, I could not help but believe that I just landed on an alien planet. The black ground swooped past us was as dark as coal, with the only spark of color being the green moss blanketing the boulders.

Unbuckling my belt and getting a much-needed stretch, I shuffled down the aisle, trying to wake up from the jet lag. However, I had no problem ridding myself of sleeplessness once I stepped off the plane. The daily hurricane-force wind nearly knocked me on my ass, and I instantly regretted not having a coat on. “I guess I can kiss those flip-flops goodbye,” I thought.

Looking to my surroundings, I could not help but see the lack of the hustle-and-bustle I was used to. No cars were honking, music blaring, or an endless parade of shops. There wasn’t even a billboard or a tree in sight. Life moved at a slower pace here.

I felt caught between two great stories. I felt like I just closed the last chapter of my own book that kept me in the Land of Oz. While living in Iceland, I felt like I was about to start a new chapter that would be a rendition of Jules Vern’s Journey to the Center of the Earth.

My senses were in a complete state of confusion. I left the tornado-scarred wheat fields of Kansas for a hostile lava rock island. The Kansas air electrified when you felt like a storm was going to roll in. It was difficult to see where the night sky ended on dark nights, and the ground began thanks to the lightning bugs. In Iceland, it was completely different. The summer days seemed like they would never end, and the dark winters slowly ticked by like we were caught in a time continuum. Back home, I had four seasons, but here I only get two.

I had a difficult time adjusting and was homesick. It crossed my mind that I should probably return to the U.S. However, my husband and I could not bear the thought of being away from one another again, so we found a solution: Explore what Iceland had to offer.

Each paycheck, we saved our kronur to spend on some gas to fuel our rickety island beater and took adventures. We soaked in the hot cerulean lagoons that billowed steam into the chilly air, ran along the black beaches chasing the waves, and laughed learning the tales of the local trolls. Cruising the salty coast, we accompanied a pod of rare minke whales to their sanctuary in Faxaflói Bay, let the mist of Skógafoss waterfall kiss our cheeks, and bundled up for a dog sled on Langjökull Glacier. After a few excursions, I finally stopped saying, “I hate it here,” to “it’s not bad.”

Before I realized how quickly the time flew by, it was time for us to return to the United States, but to our new home in Florida. Exiting the plane, I was smacked with a wall of humidity. Instantly regretting my choice of fur-lined boots, I realized it was time to dust off the flip-flops.

At the baggage claim, I stared at the number of people who had cell phones hugging their ears and gabbing away. Hearing the number of pointless conversations made my ears ring. Could these conversations not wait until these people returned home? I could not grasp the amount of reverse culture shock I was experiencing. “What the hell happened while we were away?”

Getting into our rental car and merging onto the highway, my heart started racing. It was the first time in three years since we drove faster than 50 mph.

Gripping the dash, I yell at my husband. “Holy shit! How fucking fast are you going? This isn’t the Audubon!”

Seeing the sweat on his brow, I can tell he is adjusting to life back in The States too. “Relax, hun. I’m only going 65.”

For what felt like one eternity later, we arrived at our hotel. After unpacking a few things and catching a nap to recover from the jet lag, I woke up and went to the pool for a night swim.

The sky is different here. Where have all of the stars gone? Suddenly, I missed the tranquility I had with the peace and quiet I had while gazing at the aurora borealis and hearing the stillness of the night. A warm tear slid down my face and hit the cool water soaking my hair.

I couldn’t wait to come home; now I wish I could go back to The Land of Fire and Ice.