It began with Journey to the Center of the Earth. I read it when I was maybe twelve years old, and I was absolutely captivated. I dreamed about it all the time, and imagined finding myself in the Earth’s center, then taking the exciting ride back up the surface like the characters do. But perhaps most captivating to me was the description of the place where they first find the doorway to the center of the Earth: Iceland.
Rocky and remote, Iceland has beckoned me since. But it’s not exactly a place you put a pin in the map and say, “Hey, so how about Iceland this year?” I first began trying to convince friends and boyfriends to go with me in my twenties. I got a lot of confused looks, along with things like, “How about the Dominican Republic instead?” When the kids were old enough to give opinions on vacations, they’ve said the same.
This year, I discovered (too late, alas) that one of my favorite writers was part of a writing conference… in Iceland! What! Writing and Iceland all rolled into one? I looked into signing up, but it conflicted with set plans. Gah! So close!
Turns out that this conference is well respected… and yearly! I just got notice about 2017. Could it be that next year is when I finally get to live out my Icelandic fantasies? I haven’t quite pulled the trigger yet (and I’m waiting to see who the writers are leading the workshops) but I’m leaning in that direction. This time next year I could be searching for the doorway to the center of the Earth in the rugged landscapes of Iceland. Should I go?