The land that became my story - Iceland diary of a photographer
- Zsuzsa Darab
- Jul 8
- 10 min read
The Nordic countries have always been among my favourite places. For some reason, my heart keeps drawing me back there. I had already lived in several different places before, and Iceland was also on my bucket list - a place I had long dreamed of visiting and spending some time there. Then one day, I woke up and thought, if not now, then when? Here was an opportunity: the Erasmus+ traineeship. So I decided to go for it! I opened my laptop and started searching for Icelandic photographers online. I was incredibly lucky, because the Icelandic photography market is relatively small and cannot economically support enough photographers for many studios to employ a full-time photography assistant. Still, I didn't have to try that hard; I found the right place almost immediately. Jón Páll Vilhelmsson took me under his wings and my two-year adventure could start in the land of fire and ice. This is an Iceland diary of a photographer - my story.
The first four months were all about assimilation. I was trying to travel, discover the wonders of the island, make friends, and fulfill my internship duties at the same time, all on a very tight budget. Despite the difficulties, the celestial spectacle that appeared almost every night made up for it quite well. Lady Aurora, or the northern lights, was a regular guest in my garden.
One of my favourite cases was when Icelanders, who had become immune to the northern lights, got so excited about a strong forecast that they turned off the street lights in all of Reykjavík for two hours. Of course, there is never a guarantee that the lights will arrive, and they were indeed “late”, so the city was bathed in the yellow light of the lamps again when the amazing dancing aurora appeared in the sky, which I also spied from a new location.
One of the hardest parts of settling into my new life was avoiding loneliness, as I wasn't coming to a vibrant university environment, but to a photography studio where only two of us worked together. I started to look for travel buddies on Couchsurfing, then I applied to be a volunteer at the Reykjavík International Film Festival (RIFF), where I made many defining friends. That's how I met Amelie, with whom I went on an amazing road trip to South Iceland.
It was a real wild camping trip. We slept in the car, brushed our teeth on a lava field, ran around naked with Icelandic horses, walked for hours in a lava desert, marveled at glaciers, bathed in hot springs, went hunting for the northern lights, and danced behind waterfalls. We actually danced everywhere. We danced all the way to the south of the island.
I took several pictures on this trip that launched my projects. The first pictures of my project ‘Again’ – which was also exhibited at the Capa Center Budapest – were taken on this trip, as well as, the first portrait of Amelie in my series ‘Who run the world? GIRLS!’, although the project itself only came to me later. After a while, I noticed that I only met girls on these trips. They grab their backpacks and head into the unknown. They come and go in the world alone, while they are curious, friendly, adventurous, and always adapting to local conditions. Inspiring, strong women who prove that they are brave enough to make their dreams come true. Who leave everything behind and step beyond their own boundaries and leave their safe comfort zones.
Meanwhile, everyday life presented me with real challenges. We moved, and I had to settle in the new studio. I drilled, carved, built walls, and painted, as well as assisting with photo shoots, post-production, printing, framing, and keeping in touch with clients.
Since public transport was quite expensive, and I didn’t feel like I could make good use of the infrequent bus services and less practical routes, I joined the one-person movement ‘I bike Iceland’. Well, maybe I wasn’t the only one, but life didn’t bring me together with many cyclists during my two years. I cycled almost every day, rarely went on foot. Getting from A to B got me into a few dangerous situations, even though I only cycled in Reykjavík. One of the most memorable trips was when the wind literally blew me off my bike at an intersection. People in the cars passing by laughed at me, while I felt like I was fighting for my life to get to the other side of the road in a battle with the elements…
Another very important meeting was when I met Sveinn, who, as a hobby photographer, organized his own trips throughout Iceland in his free time, guided by his passion for nature. From then on, it was guaranteed that if I wanted to go, I would have someone with me and somewhere to go. In addition, he turned out to be a great tour guide, because, as a local, he knew many hidden, difficult to reach, less popular, but wonderful places, which always made the trips extra exciting. We could feel like some secret, the secrets of the island had been shared with us.
Since my scholarship was only for four months, but I felt like I couldn’t go home yet, my Icelandic story wasn’t over yet. I tried to find ways to extend my stay. I found an art residency program where you could exchange the program fee for a few hours of volunteer work a day. So I applied for a place, and luckily I got it. Although it wasn’t typical for the residency to be open during this Christmas period, they welcomed me warmly. I traveled to the Westfjords, the northwesternmost part of the island, which is famous for being a particularly mystical place even within Iceland. Not to mention how difficult it is to get there, especially in winter. There can be storms here that can block places with snow for days or even weeks. Finally, I managed to find a car through the carpooling system that could take me to my desired destination.
Christmas arrived the next day, which promised an amazing adventure. In Iceland, the horses which are kept for tourism activities on horse farms in the summer are released back into the wild during the autumn-winter period. They can go on a “vacation” to the mountains, and, before the heavy snow sets in, they are herded back together. My host thought what a Christmas present it would be for the horses if we could find them and herd them back. We headed for the mountains, even though snow had been falling in huge flakes since morning. The section of road on the mountainside was by no means safe, but the fog and snow clouds didn't let me see that at first. After fighting our way through two avalanche tracks, we got stuck on the third one, so we stopped to attach snow chains to the wheels. Then I realized that we were standing next to a huge ravine, and there was another avalanche barrier ahead of us, and the snowfall was getting heavier. Thank God, as we put on the snow chains, we turned back. My host also realised that this was an impossible situation, and we were not even halfway to the horses. When we reached a relatively safe section of the road again, close to the village, we met a neighbor who told him that it was a crazy idea and that he should never think of doing it again, since it was a life-threatening undertaking, to set out on such a journey alone in such conditions.
With the arrival of the New Year, we set off on another trip to round up the horses. Now the weather conditions were also favorable, and the number of people in the team increased to three. However, the horses did not give up easily, the harsh weather of the previous weeks had erased all traces of them. We had to walk for several hours in meters of snow, in a forced march, up the mountain, before we found them.
Wouter, the host, mounted one of them and set off like a cowboy, leading the herd at the front of the line, while we at the back, also with whips in our hands, made sure that no one wandered off. It was a real Wild West adventure, only in the snowy, northern, icy Wild West.
Finally, my Icelandic story did not end with this residency program, because after my internship scholarship expired, my boss offered me the assistant position that I had previously held as an intern. I gladly accepted the opportunity, extending my time spent abroad.
Easter is not one of my favorite holidays, but it was also quite exciting in Iceland. We went on a five-day road trip, where the program included camping in snowstorms, getting caught in avalanches, driving in white-out conditions, and then the next moment, dazzling sunshine, discovering new places.
The longer days brought the promise of summer. And there are few things cooler than an Icelandic summer. The “sun that never sets” may not fully compensate for the long darkness of winter, but it certainly makes you forget the harsh season, and the light steals warmth into people’s hearts. The temperature is only similar to early spring weather back home on the best days, but when you’re comfortable in a thick sweater and scarf, being outdoors is a joy. We topped it off with an “Icelandic-style” concert experience, hosted by Mount Esja near Reykjavík.
My first birthday away from home was in Iceland, where I managed to travel to my favorite place among my many favorites: favourite waterfall, favorite mountain, favorite hot spring, favorite crater... This place can only be visited in summer, so I was able to spend this noble day, my birthday weekend, among the rainbow-colored mountains of Landmannalaugar.
The summer period is enjoyable because of the long days and more pleasant weather, and also because areas that cannot be visited during the rest of the year but are opened at this time. These fantastic, secluded, difficult-to-reach places are located in the inside of the island, in the highlands. You can only get here with special cars, there are no regular roads, you often have to drive over rivers, so the chance of stumbling upon tourists is even smaller.
I had a hard time enduring the autumn-winter months due to the inclement weather and the almost all-day darkness, but my desire to travel did not let me down.
For me, Christmas is not a real Christmas tree. But Iceland is also famous for not having trees. So I bought a small tree with lights and tried to create and capture the Christmas atmosphere at all the iconic locations on the south coast.
Of course, the northern lights could not be left out of the Christmas tour. Luckily, our accommodation was close to most of the amazing sights in the south, so we had the opportunity to visit them one by one and hoped that the Lady would appear at the right time and in the right place. Our little Christmas miracle did happen, sometimes accompanied by a tripod-shattering, lens-breaking windstorm, sometimes faintly twinkling on the horizon, and sometimes doing a crazy dance in the middle of the highway when we couldn’t stop ourselves from pulling over to the side of the road to take photos.
I started the new year already seeing the end of my life in Iceland. I had a one-way plane ticket. During this period, I no longer planned to go home, but the number of visitors from home increased. My heart's desire was fulfilled when my parents were able to travel to visit me, so I had the opportunity to show them this wonderful country. I had the opportunity to guide them to all my favorite places, and I was able to show them why I love this island so much.
We managed to go on an ice cave and glacier hike, which I had also really wanted to do, but such a tour is expensive, so I saved up until the last minute to surprise my parents.
Many of my friends also visited me during this last, particularly troubled period. According to Icelanders, they had never had such a bad summer. The meteorological summer did not arrive and soaked everyday life with rain. So the weather forecast became our best friend, and we chased after clear skies, with more or less success. For me, these trips were always very exciting, because at this time I could use the local knowledge I had acquired over the years to guide my visitors as a tour guide. I could introduce them to the mysteries of this mystical island.
My last trips were filled with mixed feelings of gratitude and farewell. I learnt a lot about myself on this two-year trip. Letting go was never an easy task for me, but here life presented me with hard lessons. There was a place, Laki, that could also only be reached during the summer. We managed to arrange for us to see this crater-strewn landscape on my last free weekend. I had been looking forward to this trip for two years, and when we arrived, a thick rain cloud covered the sky, pouring water on us. But, as the Icelandic saying goes, if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes and everything will change. So, we climbed to the top of the nearest crater, but the situation only got worse. Everyone else had already started to descend, but I still stood steadfastly on the edge, watching and praying for the sky to clear. I didn’t want to accept that I couldn’t tick this place off my bucket list, that I couldn’t take “the picture”, that I could look at but not “see” this long-desired world. When I was literally soaked to the skin despite all my waterproof gear, I got back in the car with the others. I had never felt so disappointed in my life. I felt like Iceland had betrayed me. I was completely broken.
But then I thought, I’m in Laki now, so am I lucky? In an instant, the situation reassessed itself. In my own language, this is just the end of a phase of life, the end of the first Icelandic chapter. I’m letting go of this image.
There’s still a reason to come back, thousand and more...
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