Growing up in BC, one of my friends as a kid was Martin. We sat beside each other in grade five, and I remember him telling me that he was a Viking.
I looked at him oddly, but he said it again –he was a Viking. I started thinking about the encyclopedias and picture books I had seen pictures of Vikings and I said to him – are you going to go fight? He smiled and said, he could, but he wasn’t going to, at least not at recess.
When I went to Iceland, an island in the north Atlantic, I realized how far from other peoples the Icelanders were. As I learned about their culture, I realized how brave it must have been for these islanders to build a boat and head off into the unknown, not sure if they would meet friends or foes.
I had the opportunity to meet Gunnar Merel Eggertsson, an Icelander and sea captain, who had built a traditional Viking ship and sailed it from Iceland to North America, first landing his boat in Newfoundland and then Boston a few years ago.
His soft spoken voice and gentle manners seemed incongruous with the fact that he was a Viking, and a direct descendent of famous Viking leader Leif Eriksson.
Touring through the city of Reykjavik, I had heard stories about the nightlife, and wanted to experience the famed clubs of Iceland’s capital. I was discouraged, and told that something may happen, since Icelanders were known as rowdy nighthawks. I persisted, and my group made a plan of action, eager to see what the fuss was all about.
Arriving at a club at midnight, our group was greeted to an empty room, except for staff setting up for the night’s entertainment. We hung out, watching the club slowly fill up and the dance floor space get claimed, as we listened to the chart hits of hip hop battle for the dj’s attention with numerous requests for Euro pop songs.
By 2:30am, the club was packed with locals drinking copiously, talking loudly and transforming from calm polite citizens to raucous party-goers. As time edged to 3am and later, my group decided we had to call it a night, despite the club hitting its peak, with wall to wall 20 and 30 somethings at 3:30am.
As we tried to leave, the security guard had to stop me, saying he would need time to let us exit. Not understanding what was happening, I caught a glimpse of the exit, which was blocked by locals, yelling and pushing to get in. I realized he and his colleagues had to fight back the crowd, allowing us to exit without having anyone shove us to the ground, as was happening routinely to many others. I expressed my thanks quickly as he told me to run through the brief exit that he had created.
As we reached a space on the sidewalk, I looked along the street, and saw the sidewalks were crowded with young men and women. Some were lying in the street, ridiculed by friends and strangers after passing out. People were unruly and loud, caterwauling in their native tongue be heard by the throngs for their desires to be inside the clubs.
I realized I was in the presence of Vikings. Brash and bold, they no longer needed to explore the world, but their inner savage wanted territorial rights just the same.