Dispatch from RHIMELAND
Scuba diving in volcanic lakes, fermented shark, alcoholic milk, country factoids, and more!
What a start to our travels! We begin our globetrotting adventure—as part of the World Tourism Organization’s new Slow Foot movement—in RHIMELAND. I thought I’d share with you the highlights.
DISPATCH
The Rhimish have been very welcoming. After concluding our meetings with the Minister of Tourism and Development, we set off for a few days in the countryside.
Our guide, Thóra, took us on the road that is the main draw for tourists, the Gullni Hringurinn, or “Golden Circle.”
The first stop is just thirty minutes outside the capital of Thingvellir, where the massive environmental preserve known as the Commonwealth Park is formed by a rift valley.
Still in the middle of summertime, we put on our wetsuits and went scuba diving in Silfra Canyon, a volcanic lake offering some of the clearest underwater views I have ever seen!
Afterwards, we warmed up at a local hotel built in the traditional style with turf—the roofs covered in deep green grasses. There, we resolved to try some of the local delicacies: hákarl, brännvin, hangikjöt, and blaand.
Hákarl is fermented shark meat with a deep, pungent smell. I found it delicious, but the ammonia in it—yes, ammonia—is definitely an acquired taste for many! Even Thóra didn’t go for a second piece.
Luckily, we had the brännvin to chase. The distilled spirit’s strength, and also its caraway flavouring, really helped to clean our palates.
With some boiled peas and buttery mashed rutabaga—specifically from a cultivar the Rhimish call gulrófa—we dug into the smoked lamb, hangikjöt. We were told that the sheep dung used as fuel the smoking process fuel isthe secret behind the meat's pungent flavor and aroma.
To cap it all off, we enjoyed large goblets of blaand. The drink is a type of hora, or milk-based fermented beverage with low alcohol content. The one we drank had a pale yellow color. Its flavour was between that of beer and kumis, so effervescent, tart, sweet, a bit bitter. All in all, it was quite refreshing.
The last couple of days saw us hiking to more mystical waterfalls and lakes like Gullfoss and Kerith. With vistas like that, we just sat there mesmerized for what seemed like eons.
On the road, we mostly ate smoked fish, dense rye bread, skyr—a soft cheesy yogurt. Thóra got us used to drinking blaand with each meal, which helped with the dryness of the bread.
One night, we camped under the stars and saw the aurora borealis. The lights dancing in the sky kept us awake as we gulped down hot quast—that popular northern steep made from Rhododendron plants—to stay warm. Rhododendron groenlandicum seems to be the most popular source, at least here in Rhimeland.
By the time we arrived in Reykjavík, with its painted row houses and seaside breeze, we were tired but happy, and more importantly, I can confidently say that we have had enough rye bread to last us a lifetime.
Time to set off to the next destination. We’ve got lots more to do to promote the Slow Foot Movement!
FIELD NOTES
The national and prevailing lect spoken in Rhimeland is Rhimish, which is one of the Nordic languages, themselves belonging to the Theodic genus of the Indo-Europic language family. That means Rhimish is closely related to, say, Swedish, and distantly related to English, but also related to faraway lects like Persian and Ceylonese!
Rhimeland is known for capitalizing on its geothermal power potential, drawing the majority of its energy from underwater heat produced by the island’s unique volcanism and geothermal activity.
Did you know the flag of Rhimeland is seen by modern by the Rhimish as representative of the elements that make up their island? Red stands for the volcanism, white is an ode to the ice and snow that dominate much of the island, and blue recalls the landscape’s mountains as silhouettes. Being a former possession of Danmark, it’s not surprising that Rhimeland’s flag shape and design follows other Norwegian countries, with the cross being an obvious symbol of Christianity.
Though the majority of Rhimish identify with Christianity, specifically Protestantism, there is a high degree of epidoxy on the island. Many still believe in the old gods. This tradition of Heathenry is spread across many of the countries of former Norway, but it has slight local variations from place to place.
In Rhimeland, Heathenry takes the form of more syncretic deities— Heathen gods are referred to with the honourific helgi, which is also used for Christian saints. The Rhimish do not see a contradiction between praying at mass in the morning and making offerings at a sacred grove in the evening. The specifics of reconciling Christian and Heathen beliefs vary by place as well—even within Rhimeland—as some communities believe the Christian God to be the only true god and the others to be servant “spirit-saints,” whilst others hold them all as equally divine.
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Speaking of beliefs: many Rhimish, including our driver Thóra, believe in the existence of elves. They are said to be especially prevalent in the rural and remote parts of the island. I’ve read that this belief may partly come from the first settlers of the island projecting a reality that parallels how other colonization schemes involved encountering an other—Indigenous peoples. Competing theories hold them to be animist land spirits, however, descended from the landvættir of the Heathenry from the Viking Age, a part of the faith which has been mostly abandoned elsewhere.