Land of Fire and Ice: A Sociological Journey Through Icelandic

Each year a group of young Icelandic descendants living in North America participate in an amazing cultural exchange in Iceland, the Snorri program. Freya Melax was a Snorri participant in 2024 and shares her experience and her images with us.

by Freya Melax, Snorri 2024

For those who’ve wandered the rugged beauty of Iceland, or are part of the tight-knit

Icelandic community here in North America, the connection to this land is more than just geographic; it’s deeply woven into our identities, passed down through generations.

For me, Iceland has always been a cornerstone of who I am, shaping my sense of belonging, pride, and connection to the world. The only other time I had visited Iceland, I was still a kid, surrounded by family. That trip, filled with stories and traditions, was my introduction to the land. But this journey, one I’ve taken as an adult, is about rediscovering Iceland on my own terms, with a deeper connection to its landscapes, my roots, and its society.

As a sociologist in training, I couldn't help but notice how Iceland’s unique societal fabric

shapes everyday life. There’s an undeniable sense of equality and respect that permeates interactions, whether in bustling Reykjavik cafés or quiet village streets. Sustainability isn't just a policy; it’s a way of life, visible in everything from the geothermal energy powering homes to the everyday choices people make. Whether you’ve marveled at the northern lights, soaked in the geothermal waters, or stood in awe of the towering waterfalls, Iceland’s allure stays with you long after you’ve left. The landscapes and stories of this land continue to resonate with those who’ve walked its paths and those who still dream of the land of fire and ice.

On my first trip to Iceland at 14, I lacked the perspective to fully appreciate the cultural

differences around me. Though I had grown up hearing stories and learning about Icelandic traditions, the true depth of the culture was something I couldn’t fully grasp at that age. I was captivated by the landscape, but the sociological aspects of life in Iceland didn’t stand out to me the way they do now. Before my second journey, I briefly considered focusing my final project on the sociological effects of Iceland’s landscape on its people and visitors. While our final presentation ended up being less academic than I expected, this question lingered with me throughout the trip, shaping how I engaged with Iceland’s culture.

On the first day in Reykjavik, the 2024 Snorris took some time to acclimate to our new home for the next two weeks, then visited a nearby outdoor pool. I thought it was super cool (both literally and figuratively). After spending some time with the group, I felt an urge to explore on my own. So, I spent a couple of hours that afternoon wandering the streets of Reykjavik—just me, my music, and my unmistakably North American aura. My path led me toward Harpa Concert Hall, its design reminiscent of basalt columns or

ice crystals. As I strolled along the waterfront, I noticed how many people were cycling, using public scooters, or simply walking. Some were commuting, but many appeared to be out for the simple pleasure of exercise and fresh air. This was a stark contrast to Calgary, where even leisurely strolls seem to carry an unspoken urgency. In Reykjavik, people moved with a sense of peace and contentment.

During our visit, regular university classes were not in session, but we encountered a few other summer groups on campus. Our coursework took place in the Edda building, a newer addition to the Háskóli Íslands campus. Its circular design and expansive glass windows, allowing natural light to flood the interior, stood in contrast to the traditional, boxy structures of North American universities. The building also featured gender-neutral restrooms, a topic of significant discussion in sociological circles. The private, single-stall design aimed to eliminate discomfort related to choosing a restroom, reflecting a broader cultural shift toward inclusivity. However, as society moves toward deconstructing the gender binary, ingrained socialization continues to shape comfort levels in public spaces.

Outdoor activity is deeply ingrained in Icelandic culture. During our first two weeks, we had an optional hike up Mt. Esja, which was breathtaking. The trail was packed with other groups and families, including children as young as three or four. My aunt Áslaug and her husband, who run a trail guiding company, exemplify this active lifestyle.

Despite their busy work schedule, they are deeply involved in outdoor communities.

And even spending a weekend at my uncle Robert’s farm further reinforced the accessibility of outdoor recreation. One evening, Robert and I casually decided to

hike up the mountain on their property. No special equipment, just willpower. The view from the peak at 23:30, under the midnight sun, was stunning. That this was

considered as routine as a walk around the neighborhood in Calgary amazed me.

The whole homestay phase of my journey, where I was staying in Akureyri with Áslaug and her husband, and volunteering at the museum of Akureyri, offered a different perspective, less structured than the academic setting, more immersed in daily Icelandic life. I built friendships with locals and engaged in community-driven initiatives, experiencing firsthand the emphasis on collective well-being. Even in the more remote northern regions, the commitment to environmental responsibility and social cohesion remained evident.

The final leg of my trip was an adventure tour through the Westfjords with my fellow North American participants. This portion was more about experiencing the raw beauty of Iceland than sociological study, but even here, I couldn’t help but reflect on the ways in which the landscape influences people. The sense of isolation in the Westfjords fosters tight-knit communities, much like those I observed in Akureyri. Accessibility to certain locations is limited, reinforcing a lifestyle centered around self-sufficiency and environmental adaptation.

Looking back on my time in Iceland, I realize that this trip deepened my understanding of the relationship between culture, environment, and social structures. The emphasis on sustainability, inclusivity, and outdoor recreation isn’t just an aesthetic or policy choice, it’s fundamental to the Icelandic way of life. This experience reinforced my connection to my roots, but it also reshaped my understanding of how societal values manifest in everyday life. Iceland, in many ways, is a model of balance, between nature and progress, individuality and community, tradition and modernity. As I left, I carried with me not only memories but a renewed perspective on what it means to belong to a place, to a people, and to an evolving cultural landscape.