A couple of months ago, when I was feeling a bit directionless in terms of this blog, I sat down and had a good long think about what I wanted to do. It seemed to me that I’d become increasingly removed from my original intent when I started, i.e. to write about what it is like to live up on this little North Atlantic rock known as Niceland. While my guiding principle has always been to post whatever I need to rant I’m enthusiastic about at any given time [which obviously accounts for the broad subject matter in this space] I still felt like I needed, not only a focus for myself, but also some sort of middle ground where the increasing number of Icelandophiles who read this blog could find something to their liking.
Enter my new idea. Every week or so I’m going to post a regular item called MY ICELAND, in which I feature something that I feel is quintessentially Nicelandic. It might be an object, a custom, a quality … it may be something that makes me nostalgic, like things I used to pine for when I lived abroad, it might just be something that people who live here – including me – take completely for granted, but which nonetheless is unique to this culture. This will be filed under its own MY ICELAND category, accessible to any existing or future readers. And – for the record – it will be completely subjective, meaning I won’t be posting the things that other people consider THEIR ICELAND, although, as always, I encourage your input in the comments section, or via email.
AND SO, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO…
My first piece of Iceland is this:
I ask you: is there any other country where the flight crew addesses the passengers over the loudspeakers with: Góðir farþegar, velkomin heim [Dear passengers, welcome home], as soon as the plane has landed? Something about that gives me a warm and fuzzy feeling every time. Perhaps the emotional significance I attach to it is a throwback to all the years when I lived abroad but felt uprooted and displaced. I don’t recall ever hearing another Icelander comment on this and would, in fact, be really interested in your input [- á íslensku ef það er auðveldara]. In any case it was always such a great feeling to land in Iceland and hear those words – welcome home – even though at the time Iceland wasn’t my home and hadn’t been for years and I had no conscious intention of making it home. It was sort of like a warm embrace. Home.
Of course when you look beyond that, you see that the significance of this little custom is inextricably tied to the Icelandic language. It assumes that if you understand Icelandic – a language spoken by so few people – you’re automatically home, with your tribe. Which is why so many people always cite the language as the major defining aspect of being Icelandic – the language defines us, as a nation. But that’s a subject for another post, perhaps.
MEANWHILE, IT IS OVERCAST AND BLUSTERY
With the odd showers, but relatively mild temps. We’re in the midst of a long holiday weekend here [Whitsun – what’s it about? – haven’t a clue] and I expect a lot of people bailed on camping and the outdoors on account of the weather, opting instead for cleaning out the garage and such. We’ve opted for a dinner party [my eldest stepdaughter finished her VERY LAST EXAM OF MEDICAL SCHOOL last Thursday [!!!] and is off to Bali in a couple of days to celebrate with her co-students]; temps right now are 10°C [50F] and sunrise was at 4.25 am, sunset scheduled for 10:25 pm.
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I live abroad as well and I always get this warm fuzzy feeling when Icelandair flightattendants say to me: welcome home (even though they are usually not very pleasant whilst on the flight) and I get all teary and mushy.
It’s a unique thing I’m sure, and it’s very lovely! When I tell other (non Nicelanders) about this, they don’t get it- I suppose you have to be Icelandic to understand:)
Love your blog- and I like the new look:)
I applaud the idea. One of my favorite parts of your writing is when you share those quintessentially Icelandic tidbits. I mean, where else can one go to find personal anecdotes about putrid shark? Thanks so much for the little pleasures you bring to my day.
And now teh German weather report.
Sun and zero rain for about a week! 20% humidity and falling
Even the swampland is accessible now (without hard boots)
Last June my brother and I put our father’s ashes in Eyjafjordur across from the place his father was born. As I stood on the deck of the cabin we were staying in, looking out over the fjord in the long shadows of a midsummer’s evening, I felt that “welcome home” . I don’t think that feeling will ever go away. Thanks, Alda, for keeping me connected.
I totally agree with you and Ásta Sigrún- I get the same warm feeling every time.
Yes, velkomin heim, it’s lovely, every time, though I felt it the best when I was moving home from my study years in Denmark. A tinge of sadness but mostly joy.
A couple of friends of mine are in that medical class by the way, plus a sister of a friend. How small a country we are…
I have never thought about it before, but I too get that warm and fuzzy feeling when hearing “velkominn heim”, even if I wasn’t ready to come back home after a short vacation…
I had completely forgotten about this, it being at least 10 years since I’ve been back to Iceland, but I always loved hearing that. I wasn’t born there, so I wasn’t coming “home”, in the literal sense, but it gave a warm feeling of, well, welcome. I could also fancifully imagine that they were welcoming a countrywoman-once-removed back to the land of her roots.
(And further “My Iceland” suggestions, at least as I see them: harðfisk, lakkrís rúllur and flatkökur with smjör, always bring back powerful memories of visits to family, my late grandmother, and wandering the streets of Reykjavík gnawing on candy.)
That’s lovely, Alda. One day I realised I became infinitely more excited and fuzzily warm about hearing “Wilkommen in Zürich” than looking down on Manchester Airport. Says it all, really.
I love it when they say velkomin heim, too. I remember one of my rellies commented on it (possibly Sigga, who comments here quite often) and when I went to live in Iceland for a couple of years it did make me feel very welcome as I understood what they were saying. I was sure to point it out to my boyfriend when we went to Iceland together for a visit a couple of years ago.
Aer Lingus (our national carrier on this little island) always throws in a bit of Irish and I’ll admit, I’ve been known to get a bit emotional hearing it for the first time on returning after my travels.
Yes, and then, filled with that muschy tipsiness of being home after a long time, one runs as fast as one can t0 the Fríhofn and buys a bag of kúlusúkk, which one’s probably finished before the baggage even enters the belt…
good times…
Thanks everyone, for your input (and enthusiasm for this new category). I’m delighted that I’m not alone in getting all mushy about this.
Beautiful idea, Alda.
Ég er ekki Íslendingur, but hearing that greeting on the plane made me wish I were.
Wow, med school. Cool!
Whitsun is the 7th Sunday after Easter, commemorating the descent of the Holy Spirit on the day of Pentecost. It’s often celebrated with a festival of garage-cleaning.
I’m really cross with myself that I missed understanding (or hearing it) on my one flight to Iceland. I will go again just to hear it.
I’m not really sure what home is, but when I went back to Scotland for a visit last year and the ground crew greeting at Edinburgh Airport was made by someone with a pronounced Polish accent, I have to say it made my day. Maybe I have a soft spot for itinerants.
I’m afraid I’ll have to be the dissenting grump here, but I really don’t get the warm and fuzzy feeling over the velkomin heim. Well, at least I didn’t get it in the old days, but that might be because of my general feeling of disconnect from many things Icelandic after living abroad for a while and having other places that are “home” to me in addition to Iceland. I think what bothered me is the implicit assumption that everyone Icelandic would feel at home in Iceland… if that makes any sense. I do (of course?) consider myself Icelandic and I’m really happy having been born and raised there, but nevertheless I’m not such a big fan of who we have become as a nation that I want to be automatically associated with it in this way… if this makes any sense. Oh well, I guess I’m just a grump
I know exactly what you mean. I used to think it was really corny and was really glad the foreigners wouldn’t understand, but now it means so much more to me. I haven’t been back for 2 years and sometimes I imagine landing and hearing those words.
tk – thanks for the theology lesson.
mary – surely it’s worth the price of one plane ticket!
Colin – it’s just a matter of time before the flight attendants are no longer Icelandic.
Herdís – glad you don’t agree – we need at least one dissident.
Sonja – seriously? You hoped the foreigners wouldn’t understand? Now THAT surprises me…
I have flown a good deal on Icelandair the past 10 years, and I always find it so interesting to watch the boarding process. Specifically, as people board the aircraft and a problem arises, and the method used by the flight attendants to deal with it.
If you speak Icelandic , the resolution process seems to flow much more easily. Not that the F/A’s provide a different level of service, but the language you speak does make a difference. The difference being that if you speak non-Icelandic you are treated as regular passenger (nothing wrong with that), but if you speak Icelandic, even if the crew does not know you personally, you are treated like a long lost friend. Which may very well be the case, as perhaps all Icelanders consider themselves friends, just un-introduced.
And perhaps they are. I have long felt that membership to the “I’m Icelandic” club has been based upon the ability to speak the language.
With my travels to Iceland, I have tried to learn the language, but it is so difficult, and it so easy to use English in Iceland that I find myself on the outside of many conversations.
So Alda, I certainly understand you feelings when land and hear: “Góðir farþegar, velkomin heim”. It is always good to come home, and have a nice welcome home.
For those of us who travel to Iceland and do not speak the language, it is also a nice welcome, even if a reminder of the differences.
Still glad to be in Iceland, but, unfortunately, not a member of the club.
Don in Seattle
Don – very interesting; in fact we’ve just had a talk about your comment over dinner. I think what you’re describing is, perhaps, the informality that always exists among Icelanders. As you know, we’re listed by our first names in the phone book, we call each other by our first names [even the president is 'Ólafur'] etc. etc. – there are very few prescribed rules in the way we relate to each other. And I have a feeling that when in ‘mixed company’ – i.e. Icelanders together with non-Icelanders, this familiarity becomes even more exacerbated and/or noticeable.
That said, Icelanders always act like long-lost cousins/friends etc. when they meet abroad – even when they wouldn’t even greet each other in an elevator back home.
well thought out Alda.
Well I did say I grew out of it
I got choked up just reading your entry. It is totally absurd how I react when I hear them say Velkominn heim… it just says everything, especially after 30 hours of travel and finally you look out at the desolate wastelands of Reykjanes… not exactly welcoming but still its the first sight of “home”.
That was one of the first things I noticed and even understood before I started learning the language: “Welcome to Iceland” in Danish and English, “Welcome home” in Icelandic. As Iceland started to become a second home, it took on more meaning. It almost seems childish in a way (tee-hee, those foreigners have no idea what we’re saying) but it’s deep on many more levels. It’s the only airline landing announcement that never made me wish I could muzzle the crew.
Go for it. Great idea. Don’t hold back.
I’m writing an article about Iceland and this was the exact moment I’m opening with; undoubtedly the best part about flying there. No matter how long Icelanders have lived abroad, even those born abroad, they still refer to going to Iceland as going home. I love it.
I know I’m jumping in a bit (!) late on this discussion but I have to say that hearing the bit of Irish on Aer Lingus (especially when coming home!) makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside!
By the by, check out this ad from Aer Lingus that ran in the late 80′s (pure schmaltz really but makes me well up anyhoo…).
I’m sure it was very poignant for those who had to emigrate and if it ran today would be heartbreaking for those who are leaving in their droves (which will probably include myself when I finish in uni…).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_i3iX6ozvI
I’ve been looking forward to hearing this sentence again for two years now – since I left the country after having lived there for three years. It’s so going to add to my overall teary-eyedness. Though I had to look up the first part, which is how I stumbled across this entry. Very nice blog, by the way.
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