Good morning, God (even at 2 in the good morning)

This is your day.

I am your child.

Please. Show me your way.

After a walk in the rain to the airport from our hotel, we had a leisurely wait at Keflavik awaiting our flight to the Faroe Islands.

A short one hour flight became a bit longer after we circled and circled the Faroes looking for an opening in the fog so we could land.

After going through a tent to have a COVID test, (my third this week for travel), we were on our way in our Citroen.

The hospitality and ease at the airport was typical Faroese. Many words of welcome and smiles, with the car rental agent doing a very first ever—coming out to the car to make sure we understood everything, and then staying a while for a chat.

Curry soup and avocado sandwich outside on the harbor (we were asked to do a sort of quarantine awaiting our test results), we had an early night in our hotel overlooking the sea. It had been a long day of travel.

And the COVID test—an email in my inbox from Atlantic Airways:

English translation did follow.

Our hotel, sitting on the River Varga, was peacefully lovely, and we lolled the morning having a very leisurely breakfast and then sitting on our deck writing and reading and looking at the beautiful views that surrounded us.

We spent the afternoon driving up and down and around the main road in Hvergardi, population less than 3000.

We enjoyed soup, bread baked in a thermal oven, and hummus for lunch. The vegetables in the soup were likely grown in one of the local greenhouses that supply the fruits and vegetables for Iceland.

We took walks around the local garden and then on up a path that went beside a waterfall.

On our search for afternoon coffee, we happened upon the local art museum. They were featuring work by a woman artist and also had a video installation of women “taking over” the gallery.

After a final coffee of the day, which included a long conversation with the waitstaff, a woman who had lived in Atlanta for nine years, it was nearly six in the evening. It had been another slow day—traveling less than three miles.

Now it was time to drive back to Keflavik and prepare for the trip Friday morning to the Faroe Islands.

We were welcomed on our early morning arrival with the remnants of Hurricane Henri. So we hopped in our rental car and drove to spot the erupting volcano. Iceland!

I recently read a book about slow travel. It’s about hunkering into a place and staying long enough to be immersed in local living.

I’m doing that in the Selfoss (southwestern Iceland) area—for two days. It’s wonderful having no place to go except wherever you are.

Jet lagged, my best friend and I kept thinking we would check into our hotel early, but kept finding places to stop and stay.

A place to stop and to enjoy coffee and local pastries in a small town.

A place to stop and paint in my journal.

A place (many places, actually) to stop and wonder at thermal energy being released.

A place to stop and visit with the Iceland ponies.

And, when I finally arrived at my hotel, a place to stop and simply be with the view.