Good friends are hard to come by, but for Jamie and me, we know they live an eighth of the world away—well, a sixth of the world away from Jamie and a twelfth of the world away from me. They are Daði, Sessa, Gunnhildur, Björn Þór and family. If not for them, we would never be.
It all started before Jamie & I began dating. Gunna & Jamie, having both come to Ann Arbor by themselves, found a common bond in their fondness for strong drinks and distaste towards the life of a music student. They frequented many of the lovely establishments around Ann Arbor for post-concert gatherings, sharing thoughts on classes, rehearsals, gossip and more.
During one such outing, Gunna extended an invitation to Jamie to come to Iceland to be a part of the Icelandic Chamber Music Festival’s string quartet seminar: a one-week intensive string quartet seminar led by a member of the Pacifica Quartet with the option to stay a couple of extra days on vacation. Seeking a change of scenery, Jamie happily agreed to play. Around the same time, Gunna floated the same invitation to me. Knowing that I might be flying to the Netherlands just as the festival would take place, I happily considered the option to make music and hike in a country where I had never visited. Without any of us knowing, Gunna set the stage for Jamie and me to come together in Iceland.
Our hosts during the festival were Gunna’s parents: Daði and Sessa. Musicians themselves, they knew what summer festivals can be like and were gracious enough to offer us all lodging in their house on Hólavallagata. Eventually there would be seven of us in their house, each tucked away in our own room with a blanket and a little mattress. Jamie had the most spacious accommodations, sleeping in Daði’s reed room. I, on the other hand, slept in the smallest room of the house—a long narrow room which barely fit my long legs and international-sized luggage.
Over the course of that week, Jamie & I grew closer as our relationship began to bud. At the same time, we both grew fond of our host family. Every morning Sessa offered to boil me an egg, insisting that I was not eating quite enough; every evening Daði offered us a drink of Scotch, insisting that we weren’t drinking quite enough. And Gunna, of course, was a wonderful friend who reveled in showing off her native country—its topography, its culture, and most importantly, its swimming pools, hot dogs, and ice cream(s).
Coming Back
Over the years, we have stayed in touch with our friends on Hólavallagata. When Daði and Sessa came to Ann Arbor to watch Gunna finish her degree, we jumped at the chance to host them in our Kerrytown house. I returned to Reykjavik the following summer to teach at the festival. Daði and Sessa were happy to host. After the festival, Gunna and Björn Þór took me on a camping trip to the Snæfelsness peninsula where I fell in love with a little black church…
This time we came to back to Hólavallagata after our wedding in that little black church. The whole family warmly greeted us—they were all a bit proud that they had been there when we fell in love. Sessa prepared one of her fantastic dinners, and to top it off, Gunna baked us a real wedding cake with figurines on top! We all drank slightly too much and in good Icelandic summer fashion we went to bed long after the sun came up. Jamie and I felt grateful and loved and a bride and groom as the kids went off with my bouquet and everyone marveled at our wedding rings.
We will return starting this August for the festival and hopefully many more times.