Under attack in Iceland

Now that the last of the tourists are gone, Iceland reveals its real face. The days of peace are gone and as the króna sinks further down so does my spirit.

I'm sitting now at my house in the dark and I hear noises all around me. Outside a war is going on—Iceland is under attack. Bullets hammer the walls, supersonic shock waves shake the windows and bomb shells fly above the roof.

In a situation like this, it is better to take cover and stay protected inside between the four walls of your house.

Like every year, the attack started without a notice. I knew it was coming, I just didn't know when. I had few months to prepare myself but when it finally came, it came strong. It was fast and sudden and now it's already here just behind the door.

I have stockpile of provisions ready in the storeroom and some good books next to my bed to pass the time. There is not much else to do but just to sit and wait and let nature unleash its heavy guns.

When Iceland is under attack, humans are the victims. It is the only war which we cannot win. We’ve got nowhere to escape to and there is not much of ammunition we can use to protect ourselves. The best option is to sit and wait and let it just pass over your head.

Now that the war has started, it is only a matter of time before the attacks will be finished. I’ve learned to be patient. I and the rest of people who are caught up in the middle have got to stay strong. I know we'll get through this; a few casualties are inevitable but we must keep our spirits up.

Like every year it all started with a cosmic dance. The sun and the earth are changing places; crossing each other is giant circles, chasing invisible ghosts. Like a cat chasing its tail, an action that looks innocent on a cosmic scale can end up with devastating results.

Whenever I find myself stuck here like that, claustrophobic thoughts start filling my head one by one. I feel them crawling up from below like ants walking under your sleeve.

It is the closest experience to curfew I have ever experienced. You can't leave the house and even if you do there is nowhere to go. People are stuck at their homes under tables and blankets, each with their own way to survive.

I once gave a name to days like that: "The days of the flying fingers." When the wind is blowing so strong and everything is shaking, one might lose a finger in a slamming door or a swinging window.

A few days ago I almost lost my pointing finger while a burst of strong wind generated by low pressure vacuum slammed the door of my car just a second before I managed to pull myself out. While I pushed the door to get out, I almost left a finger behind stuck between the car chassis and the door frame.


My screams were so loud that I wouldn't be surprised if extra seismic activity was recorded in the region that day. Typing this column with one finger was no fun, and for all of you who think that Iceland is nothing but pleasure, let this be a warning to you.

Every year just before the end of summer I whisper a little prayer that I hope gets to the one who sits in heaven. I beg that this year global warming will finally affect the environment and come to our help. I know it's a little bit selfish but we live only once.

While the rest of the world is worried about raising temperatures, Iceland is looking forward to global warming. We are one of only few nations that will gladly welcome just little bit more sun. With your help, we will beat the Icelandic winter and make this place more fun.

Shana Tovah (“Happy New Year”) to you all!

Published in Iceland Review September 20 2009.