Sagas and geothermal swimming pools – Reykjavík moves to a different rhythm

It is said that when Norse explorer Ingólfur Arnarson and his wife Hallveig Fróðadóttir threw some wooden posts from their ship in AD878 they floated to a bay covered with steaming springs, hence the name Reykjavík, or “stormy bay”, and that’s where Arnarson decided to settle. I am here researching women in Icelandic sagas for my next book, and our two small children have accompanied me, with their father sharing childcare.

We do the usual touristy tour around the Golden Circle, and the children pet Icelandic horses, swim in Iceland’s oldest geothermal bath and see the aurora borealis. But Reykjavík itself is an interesting, child-friendly city with much to offer. Our children especially enjoy the National Gallery of Iceland and learning about trolls and Viking history at the Saga Museum.

On a folklore tour they learn how to wake up zombies with 11th-century magic as we traipse through the enchanting Hólavallagarður Cemetery. Many prominent Icelanders, including Ingibjörg H Bjarnason, first female member of parliament, and Jón Sigurðsson, father of Icelandic independence, are buried here. One afternoon we take a taxi over to Bessastaðir, the President’s residence, on the Alftanes Peninsula. I have a meeting with the First Lady, Eliza Reid, and the children come along to have a tour of the buildings. This site was first settled in AD1,000 as a farm for Snorri Sturluson, writer of the famous Icelandic sagas. Consecrated in 1796, Bessastaðir church is one of the oldest cemented stone structures in Iceland, with a beautiful painted triptych altarpiece and stained-glass windows.

We walk over a few times to Sundhöllin, one of the many swimming pools in Reykjavík. It is teeming with families, and free for children under 15. The children learn that it is perfectly OK to shower naked and bodies don’t have to be sexualised: a valuable lesson all young people should get.

A few months before arriving here I discovered that May Morris, a proponent of the Arts and Crafts movement and youngest daughter of William Morris, travelled to Iceland many times, first in 1922, sketching and writing about it. As I go around Reykjavík, I read about her travels and also make many sketches of the buildings, trying to give a language to my memories. One of the most elegant new buildings is the Harpa concert hall on the seafront, designed in co-operation with Danish-Icelandic artist Olafur Eliasson. The glass-fronted building is like shards of basalt rising up, reflecting the colours of the sky and sea around it. Not far from here is the historic Höfði House, where Mikhail Gorbachev and Ronald Reagan famously met to decide the end of the Cold War in 1986. Some say it is haunted.

Rainbow Street, or Skólavörðustígur, is five minutes from Óðinsgata, where we are renting a small apartment. The street is painted in rainbow colours in support of Reykjavík Pride, held here annually since 1999, and the Eymundsson bookshop, the largest in the country, is also around the corner. Just up from this corner is the distinctive Hallgrímskirkja church, named after 17th-century clergyman Hallgrímur Pétursson, its stepped concrete facade reminiscent of the Icelandic topography. We take a lift up the 74m tower, one of the tallest structures in the whole of Iceland, to the observation deck to see a stunning panoramic view of the city and its colourful corrugated iron houses.

A small boat takes us across the bay to eerie Viðey island, only about 1.6 sq km in area and uninhabited since 1943. It is home to Yoko Ono’s Imagine Peace Tower, lit up every year on John Lennon’s birthday, and Milestones, an art installation by sculptor Richard Serra. Gunnar Gunnarsson, a renowned novelist, is buried in the church here.

According to the 2023 World Happiness Report, Iceland is the third happiest country in the world. It is easy to see why. Most mornings I walk across the bridge on the Tjörnin lake to work in the National Library. Even when the lake is completely frozen over, one corner is continually pumped with heated water for the 40-plus species of ducks and swans. This fact alone makes me so happy that I might have raised the happiness score of Reykjavík by several points. That, and the cardamom buns from BakaBaka bakery on Bankastræti, the best I have ever eaten. We mostly shop in Krónan supermarket and cook simple meals in our tiny kitchen. But the colourful Café Babalú is hard to miss for excellent breakfast crepes, and Reykjavík Roasters have the best coffees.

I am reading Louis MacNeice and WH Auden’s letters during their travels in Iceland where MacNeice writes rather wistfully: “Here is a different rhythm, the juggled balls/ Hang in the air – the pause before the soufflé falls/ Here we can take a breath.” I definitely feel like there is a different rhythm to the city, one where I can breathe more freely.