A Whale of Tale

Last week my new photographer friend, Natsha, invited me on a last minute trip to go whale watching. I was all “Meh, who cares? They're just whales. I've been to SeaWorld so I'm good.”, but then I didn't have anything better to do so I went*.

(*All lies. I was so excited.)

Early Sunday morning the 5 of us packed up in our rented car and headed to Grundarfjöður on the Snæfellsness peninsula. We had heard there were orcas (aka, killer whales... aka, killer whales isn't a correct name... aka, killer whales is a way better name) in the harbor about a week prior, so we crossed our fingers and hoped they decided to stay long enough for us to catch a glimpse.

There were no whales in the harbor when we arrived.

Luckily we booked a boat tour with LákiTours so we could go further into the ocean looking for them. They also gave us these freeeeaking sexy jumpsuits to wear to keep our bajeebers from freezing off.

We sailed out and around to the next fjord over, only to not see any whales there either. I was preparing myself for the disappointment to go home empty carded of any killer whale photos, while appreciating the feast my eyes had around me in the form of beautiful Icelandic mountains (Er, John Snow anyone?).

But then the captain's voice rusted out of the loud speaker; there were a few whales out in the distance at 1:00. I joined the choir of desperate shutters in praise to this news. We chased around this pod of 5-8 orcas for about a half hour until we were informed that more had just arrived in the harbor at Grundarfjöður. And by “more” they meant around 30-40. Whaaaat? Yep. I ended up seeing a lot of killer whales that day (I also saw a lot of jerk seagulls photo-bombing the crap out of my life, too).

Needless to say (thankfully, seeing as I'm really tired and need to go to bed, like, 2 hours ago), it was an incredible day trip seeing such graceful and beautiful animals. I couldn't have asked for better weather or better company. 

I just love so much about the things my life in Iceland chooses to be. 

Bon Voyage

Well, here I am.

I'm currently, at this particular moment of typing, sitting in the Salt Lake City International Airport watching the fluffy snow fall at an unnerving rate. I still see planes taking off, and the screen in front of me still indicates my flight is on-time, so not all my nerves are un-ed yet.

I had a brief and unexpected puke scare last night (note to self: body now rebels against hamburgers), but my stomach is feeling comfortable after a fruit smoothie breakfast with a couple of my best friends who just happened to be leaving on a trip to Disney World an hour before my flight to Denver. How lucky am I? (Sorry you're kind of blinky, Kurtis. Though I suppose it's an apt representation of how you were cold-medicine-y feeling at the moment.)

I am lucky. Not only am I about to take off to a brand new life and adventure into the unknown, I have a whole support team back home rooting me on. It was quite humbling to see and say goodbye to most of my friends and family over the last couple of weeks. I found one can tell who truly and selflessly cares when it's time to say goodbye. It was surprising to see some of my (close) friends cut their losses early on by not responding to invitations to parties/lunch/other-various-get-together-y-activities. It's understandable they couldn't move their schedules around to accommodate my crazy hours the last few weeks (and it's not like I won't be around spamming everyone's Facebooks and Skypes with Icelandic paraphernalia on a daily basis), but it was remarkably meaningful to observe the people who did make saying goodbye in person a priority. It's something I'll value and respect greatly in my future relationships, especially as someone who isn't particularly good at saying goodbye to people (my awkward lack of emotion is unparalleled).

As an adult, I've come to believe that the concept of being missed is arguably the most sweet thing we have in our lives. It's easy to give love and attention to someone when they're around, but to ache for that irreplaceable person's existence in your world when they're away is special. It might be stupid and weirdly self-centered to say, but I never feel so loved as when I know I'll be missed. Today I leave knowing I'll be missed by a lot of people I know I'll really miss too, and that's a good feeling.

Last night I was able to spend a few hours with the person I probably love the most in the whole world... my niece Ivy. When I think of all the people I'm going to miss, she tops the list to the point that I sometimes find myself getting every-so-slightly choked up thinking about it. I think most of this probably has to do with how much she'll change while I'm gone, and the fear she won't remember who I am. My sister and I have committed to Skyping as regularly as possible, but Ivy isn't the most Skype-interested 1.7 year old there is. Another reason I'm going to miss her is this (a video taken last night probably too long for anyone non-family):

Ugh. She is so stupidly cute. I am going to miss her. Good thing they are going to start boarding right now because I think someone is cutting onions in this terminal...

- - - - - - - 

Well, I made it to Denver. I'm starting to feel the effects of a week of poor night's sleep, which either means I'll luck out and be able to sleep a little on the flight, or more realistically, I'll be unable to sleep as per usual and therefore be a zombie upon my 6:30am arrival to Iceland. 

Holy crap, I'm going to Iceland. ICELAND. What?!

I've consciously tried to keep a completely open mind about this next year without any selfish or unrealistic projections of my expectations. I do not hope for anything more than being able to do well by my job as an au pair, photograph new people and places, and embrace all the great things that kick me out of my comfort zone. It's strange to think the next time I step off the plane I'll be a foreigner. I will be immediately immersed in a language, culture, climate, and life I had no way of preparing for and generally know very little about. Am I ready for that? As ready as I'll ever be, I guess!

Farewell, America!