(Image Credit: New Generation Publishing)
Emma Strandberg’s reminiscences of her 21-week peregrination of Iceland transcends the genre of travelogue. It is a spontaneous and agglomeration of raw emotions. It is also a tribute to resilience and a reinforcement of the power of belief. Strandberg sets off on an extemporaneous journey to Iceland with a view to not just exorcising a few ghosts of the past but also to stir herself out of her comfort zone. Being subject to a traumatizing episode of burglary, Strandberg decides to undertake a ‘cleansing’ expedition to the same land which had traumatized her late mother many moons back.
Strandberg deliberately avoiding the more popular tourist destinations and the capital of Iceland, settles on a non-descript town and former municipality as her base of expedition. The incredulity exhibited by friends and strangers alike to the choice of location can be gleaned from the title of this compelling book. Situated on Route 1 at the mouth of the glacial river Blanda, Blönduós is split into two parts by the glacial river Blanda, for which it is named (Blöndu is an oblique case of Blanda). Housing a wool washery, and the Icelandic Textile Center, Blönduós also hosts a residency program for international textile artists and scholars. It is the residency where Strandberg book herself into.
Where the F&*K Blönduós is a testimony to both wanderlust and verisimilitude. As Strandberg navigates some of the most treacherous terrains, driving white knuckled and being buffeted by gale force winds – at one point in time her car finds itself balancing on just two wheels with the other two hanging precarious in the air – she also finds herself in this exhilarating journey. Every spectacular glacier, every splendid specie of bird and every hair-raising bend in the mountain is path towards introspection and self-discovery.
Strandberg’s journey begins in the worst possible way when she receives the devastating news of the demise of one of her best friends, courtesy an IED in Afghanistan. As a homage and tribute to him, Strandberg continues her journey and lights a candle every time she sits down to chronicle her experiences. And boy! Doesn’t she do a capital job of it! Laced with wit and interspersed with precocious advice, the book is an indispensable guide for the intrepid and the intrigued alike.
During one of her long drives, Strandberg is accosted by an egregious group of Asian tourists looking to immerse themselves in a hot spring. They also express a keenness to take a selfie with a ‘local’ woman. Strandberg, plays along by advising them advising them that the only spring worth visiting happens to be her ancient ancestors’ hole in the ground at Grettislaug. She even writes down the details of such a spring before nonchalantly signing off the note as ‘Emma Grettisdóttir.’
Other than those occasions where Strandberg is trying hard not to plummet to her death from a cliff edge (which she has scaled in a brazen act of indiscretion), or where she is photographing whales or taking a flying tour of a scientific island from the confines of a helicopter, she tried hard to assimilate herself into the Icelandic mores of culture and language. For example, she understands that the single word “Ha!” accommodates ubiquitous usage in alignment with myriad situations ranging from the aesthetic to the asinine. She also finds herself participating in the unique ritual of “Rettir,” that involves gathering sheep and horses from the high ground before the weather closes in. All of these when she is not photographing the breathtaking magnificence of aurora borealis or the Northern Lights!
Strandberg finishes her book with a precious list of dos and don’ts for an inspiring explorer determined to choose Blönduós in particular & Iceland in general as a sojourn. This includes a list of indispensable items.
Where the F*&K is Blönduós – An exercise in excelsis!
