Sæl og blessuð!
Now, we have established that swimming pool culture is quintessentially Icelandic, and the Icelanders treat their pools like unofficial community centres.
Indeed, there is a pool in just about every community, and that also goes for neighbourhoods. The Reykjavík area (pop. 255,000) has 20 pools, if you count the geothermal beach Nauthólsvík with its hot tubs and piped-in hot water. In Iceland as a whole (pop. 377,000) there 163 different pools.
So, yes, Icelanders and geothermal pools are pretty much inextricably entwined.
Yet I have never heard anyone mention the most quintessentially-Icelandic part of going to the swimming pool, that thing that defines the most badass of all badass pool enthusiasts.
It is … the útiklefi.
What is that, you ask?
The útiklefi is an outdoor changing room with walls and a door and showers and a toilet, but no roof. Yup. That means you strip naked under a bare sky, whatever the weather: sun, rain, biting frost, blizzard.
When you choose the útiklefi, you leave your valuables at the front desk, or in your car. Why? Because there are no lockers in the útiklefi, only hooks for your clothes, and possibly little baskets for your other belongings. There is usually a small awning that juts out over the hooks to keep your stuff from getting wet on rainy or snowy days. Apart from that, it functions just like a normal change room.
Some Icelanders are absolute devotees of the útiklefi and will feel extremely put out if they have to use a normal locker room for whatever reason. I suspect it’s an offshoot of the Icelandic mentality that declares that babies must sleep outdoors in their prams irrespective of the weather because this will strengthen their constitution and turn them into hardy adults—the kind of adults, presumably, that choose the útiklefi.1
Want to give it a try? Just ask at the front desk for admission to the útiklefi, or outdoor change room. Just remember the rules: shower naked, and no using your phone in the locker room!
In other, unrelated, news
This week I am going to be teaching a workshop at The Iceland Writers Retreat, an annual event for writers held here in Iceland, to which people come from far and wide to write and learn. The instructors are also mostly from overseas, and many of them are well-known, at least in literary circles.
The event kicks off each year with an “author's evening” where the instructors that particular year read from their books. That event is free and open to all. This year marks the IWR's tenth anniversary, so it is extra special. So if you are in Iceland and feel like dropping by the Nordic House this evening, Tuesday April 23, it would be lovely to see/meet you. The event starts at 8 pm and here is a list of the authors who will be reading (scroll down on the page).
Tomorrow evening I’ll be reading from my memoir, Daughter—my newest book. Here is what the latest Amazon review has to say: The book was beautifully written and deeply vulnerable. As a memoir, it would succeed on those two pillars alone. However, this memoir raised - and even began to answer - some questions about the intersection between mental health and spiritual healing. I've been thinking about this book for months now and it's been the basis for many conversations with others regarding so many topics related to narcissism, childhood trauma, mental health, spiritual healing, and surrender while still desperately seeking help.
Speaking of babies and prams and pools and community centres, the other day I witnessed a family—mom, dad, and big brother—cavorting at the pool, with a baby in a pram that they parked next to whatever hot tub or baby pool they happened to be in. It doesn’t get much more Icelandic than that. 👶
"" offshoot of the Icelandic mentality that declares that babies must sleep outdoors in their prams irrespective of the weather because this will strengthen their constitution and turn them into hardy adults—the kind of adults, presumably, that choose the útiklefi.¹ "" I learned this from my beloved mother-in-law; one of many tips from her worthy common sense. She had the Scandinavian fairness and high cheekbones ...a beauty in her prime that aged well into her 80's.