About fifteen years ago, after spending two days hiking in the mountains around Landmannalaugar, I was craving a bath—a hot bath.
Countless times I had crawled into the natural hot pot (brook) in Landmannalaugar, and always naked, as people do in the highlands.
When in the pool, sky still bright with the midnight sun, I suddenly realized that I was the only one naked.
Tourists from all four corners of the globe were sitting there, either in swimsuits or their undies.
I felt like a pervert, in my own country, and for the next hour, I laid on my stomach, behaving.
Since then, I have been there hundreds of times.
Always wearing a swimsuit like everybody else.
Páll Stefánsson – ps(at)icelandreview.com