By Karin Rumie
For the first time since leaving Reykjavik, I relaxed my grip on the wheel of the tiny Fiat. My tension faded like the heavy clouds that had hovered over me.
The agent had given me an umbrella with the car keys. “Iceland summers,” she’d said with a blinding smile. There’s that collective Icelandic cheer, I thought, recalling the term my mother coined last time we were here.[Read more…] about Return to Iceland