[FW]: Chasing Waterfalls
I have a thing for waterfalls.
I’ve seen and experienced the roaring sound of the most recognized waterfall in North America — Niagara Falls. And yes, sure, it was nice — the Falls are powerful, and until I go to Zambia to experience Victoria Falls, I probably won’t experience anything quite as deafening until then.
I rode on the Maid of the Mist, felt the mist, saw rainbows emerge from the mist, and, yeah, it was pretty . . . There’s just something about Niagara Falls being anchored by giant hotel towers, casinos, American chain restaurants (I’m pretty sure I saw a T.G.I. Friday’s from the ferry) . . ., that just ruined the allure for me.
Waterfalls incite an specific image in my mind: tramping through woods, similar to the green and serene beauty found in Connecticut (let’s disregard the manicured lawns and blacktop roads). I imagine tiny frogs on the shores of brooks, laying in tall, grassy meadows, listening to the insects and birds, feeling the warmth of the sun on my face, and, of course, listening to the babbling river leading to the giant opening of the falls.
Yup, that’s not Niagara. It is Skógafoss Falls, Iceland, however. At least it seems like it in photos.
On this Fantasy Wednesday I fantasize about going to Iceland to see the Skógafoss.
Now I don’t have too much knowledge about Iceland in general. At a younger age I thought of Iceland as the very cold place where evil blonde, blue-eyed people played ice hockey (you can thank Mighty Ducks 2 for that). Iceland, though, is very green. Most people (at least among younger generations and in Reykjavik) speak English. And crime is so low that the police don’t carry guns and people feel comfortable leaving their babies in strollers outside of shops and cafes while they look on from inside (see here). So, in actuality, Iceland is perfect. Add in the wild beauty and natural wonders (I’m looking at you, Skógafoss), and you’ve got heaven on earth right there.
Skógafoss is a bit shorter in height than Niagara, has nowhere near the amount of power, but looks, like I said, heaven. I mean, we’re talking heavy, thick, pure white fog rolling atop lustrous green hills — that sort of perfect. And there’s the actual waterfall, which really looks like it flows from a deep, rocky chasm in the ground.
Until I make it out to the green island, pictures will suffice. But knowing me, the angst will soon settle in. How much is a plane ticket to Iceland, anyway? Anybody?