Volcanoes, Snæfellsnes, Ben Stiller
- iceland
My host picked me up from the gas station where the bus had dropped me off. He is an original Icelander, born on Heimaey, the main island of the Westman’s Islands, south of mainland Iceland. When he was 14, one night at 2 am, a neighbor knocked on his family’s door to wake everyone up because a volcano was erupting just a stone’s throw away from the first houses of the village. All they could see when they left the house was a wall of fire coming straight from the grass. It turned out that a long crack in the ground had opened and was now spitting fire. Later, there was lava, flowing towards the harbor, and a new mountain, higher than the old mountain formed. People didn’t panic, because they were used to volcanic action. In fact, there had been a volcanic eruption under water in viewing distance from Heimaey only a few years earlier, going on for three years and resulting in a new island. My host said that the eruption in his village was like a dream and only four days later could he really grasp what had happened.
Luckily, the eruption started at night, when all boats were in the harbor and everyone could be evacuated from the island in time, apart from one person who died of the poisonous gases of the volcano. Weeks later, people could finally return to their island and start to rebuild their village which was half gone, either burnt under the lava or buried under the ashes. Only half of the population did return, though, the rest started new lives somewhere else on Iceland.
My host’s family moved to Stykkishólmur where they had relatives, and I believe that my host has never lived anywhere else. He said that it is like he had two lives. One before that night and one after. In one night he lost contact with most of his friends, and didn’t see them ever again.
Now, he owns an old blue farmer’s house and rents out a few rooms. I was the only guest and got to choose the best room. It had a view out to the bay, similar to the view in the picture, which was taken from the garden next to the house. He likes to meet his guests and see Iceland with their eyes, because it isn’t that special to you if you have lived there all your live.
He took me on a day trip around the Snæfellsnes peninsula, dropped me off at one point where I wanted to hike a bit along the cliffs, and met me a few miles later, in a restaurant where he, an accomplished guitar player, performed a few Icelandic folk songs. It was too cloudy and too little time to climb the glacier, but I ended up getting a guided tour with whale watching and a very personal touch tailored to my pace and preferences for free.
When we were almost back we saw a helicopter about to land, so we did a U-turn, drove up to the tiny airport and checked if it was Ben Stiller getting out of the heli, because apparently that’s how he had done it there quite recently. I was deeply embarrassed when the passengers got out and walked towards the little bus parked next to us, but my host was not. He asked the bus driver, but he didn’t want to give a straight answer. One of the passengers had dark, wavy hair and I firmly (want to) believe that it was Ben Stiller with his family.
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