Puttering down Iceland’s south coast in a beat-up rental, we pulled off Route 1 in Selfoss. With 6,500 residents, it was the largest town we’d seen since leaving Reykjavík and the biggest we’d see until our return to the capital city. My partner and I hadn’t stopped to look at the expansive landscapes or perplexing geology. We needed fuel—the caffeinated kind. Kaffi Krús’ golden exterior called us in like a lost ship.
Steps from the café and down an embankment, Iceland’s largest river by volume roars. Lattes gripped in cold hands, we watched the Ölfusá’s currents swirl—an unscheduled moment between itinerary stops. Out of the calm, an unwelcome thought developed: I would never be here again. Tears welled and sat like weights under my eyelids—the fleeting nature of ‘now’ can hurt.
I took a snapshot in my mind that I hoped would last a lifetime: the bends and curves in the river, the moss-covered landmasses protruding from turbulent waters, the homes on the opposite bank sitting snug between the river and flat-topped ridge. Then I was back in the passenger seat, moving away from Ölfusá, Selfoss, and ultimately a country I was feeling increasingly connected to with every tick of the odometer.
A week later, back home in Seattle, post-trip endorphins exploded like tiny bombs. We’d never traveled internationally before, but it was all I could think about upon our return. I made a list of possible next destinations abroad, but as I mulled, a case for repeat travel—visiting the same near- or far-flung location(s) more than once—coalesced.
Pondering future treks, I figured there must be less pressure when revisiting a destination. Since the must-sees and must-dos have already been seen and done, repeat trips could be about whatever I, the journey-taker, most want. Constraints on time—a valuable resource—might be fewer, and with the longest lines for the best-known attractions impatiently waded through on the first-go, I might find myself with more time.
With comfort gained through revisits I thought I might be able to more deeply experience a place. On first-round travels, getting into the rhythm of a city can be difficult. When earning a duplicate passport stamp, I might enjoy the opportunity to move at a more informed, sustainable pace. Grounded in bits of detail from previous trips, I should be able to find my bearings more quickly. With a baseline understanding of a city’s layout and less time plotting individual movements, there should be potential to make meaningful connections to a place and the people who call it home.
Whether it’s an itty-bitty hamlet or sprawling metropolis, getting around can be one of the more stress-inducing aspects of globe-trotting. Gaining local transportation wisdom through repeat travel—which train to catch, the acceptable forms of payment on the bus, which side of the tram to enter on—must free up mental bandwidth. With fewer roadblocks to local passage, I should be able to move alongside locals more seamlessly and observe the inner-workings of daily life in a place that’s not my home more closely.
Well-intentioned folks say that if you’re going through the hassle of getting to the other side of the planet and spending loads of money to do it, you should be trying something new each time. I’d argue that revisiting a destination does offer something completely new each time.
Twelve months later, I was back in Iceland, drinking coffee above the currents, and comparing Selfoss’ landscape to the mental map I’d created a year prior. I had so vehemently told myself I’d never be back in in this Nordic land, but relished how wrong I’d been. Peace crept through me, and I felt content with the world and my place in it—something my anxieties don’t often give way to. Subsequent trips are second chances, do-overs for ruined moments, should-haves, and missed opportunities. We went back to our perch above Ölfusá for the stunning views, familiarity, comfort, and coffee, sure, but also learned how one destination used as bookends on the either side of time will produce massively different experiences—all uniquely yours.
Leaving Selfoss a second time, I didn’t mourn the finiteness of a specific moment. I celebrated the immense number of moments that make up a life, and how unpredictable, and jarring, and exhilarating they can be.
Are you traveling to Iceland sometime soon? Make sure to download our guide to the country, with tips on how to be a better traveler, plus local tips on food, sights, and getting around.
