In the North of Iceland, you'll discover that the most profound experiences come not from what makes sense, but from embracing what shouldn't exist but somehow, miraculously, does: the Forest Lagoon's accidental perfection nestled in birch groves, Mývatn's ancient waters drawn from impossible depths, and GeoSea's oceanside alchemy where seawater becomes medicine.
Now, imagine yourself in your bathing suit, enveloped in this impossible warmth, snowflakes or blizzard winds on your cheeks only heightening the enjoyment of the moment. All around you, people are chatting or stretching their aching limbs or sitting still with their eyes closed, lost in silent meditation - strangers becoming neighbors in this liquid democracy.
Privacy becomes community
Pools are seen by Icelanders as their civic right; they are communal spaces where you come to meet your friends, where you rest after a stressful day, where your baby, barely a few months old, takes her first swimming lessons. In a land where isolation should be the norm, these heated oases become the social heart of communities - public places to be alone, much like coffee shops in large metropolitan cities.
When darkness covers the land for 19 hours in winter and winds can be so unforgiving, hot water baths become essential to Icelandic wellbeing - not luxury, but necessity. What appears indulgent to outsiders reveals itself as survival strategy, community building, and mental health maintenance all dissolved into mineral-rich water.
Strangers become storytellers
What you'll notice in a hot pool is that people talk to each other - in water heated by volcanic forces, social barriers dissolve as readily as mineral salts.
A straw poll among locals revealed that conversations usually start with current affairs and politics, but inevitably turn personal: someone is buying a new home, facing illness, or separating from their spouse. You will hear happier stories, too: career celebrations, travel planned.
These waters don't just hold heat - they hold the rich tapestry of human experience. There’s something about the water’s embrace that turns strangers into confidants.
So muster up courage, and start a conversation. Thankfully, most Icelanders speak excellent English and everyone has a story worth sharing. Yes, that includes you, too.
Nakedness leads to honesty
Coming to a hot pool in Iceland helps you focus on your body and look inward, but first demands you to embrace the ultimate paradox: vulnerability as strength. Rules of etiquette, tradition, common sense and cleanliness demand that every visitor takes a shower naked next to strangers.
Routine when you’re local but foreigners are easily identified by trying to have a wash in their bathing suits, but shower room attendants and Icelanders (always so direct!) demand that they undress and shower like everybody else. By stripping, we become all the same, king or pauper. Only our inner selves remain.
We see other humans of all ages, stretch marks, sagging, perky, fit, pregnant, post-surgery, in the flush of youth, in the declining years. It is a more honest way of living and makes you more accepting of yourself, others, and helps you find beauty literally in every body.
Do this, and you’ll begin to understand the Icelandic spirit, deeply rooted in nature and ancient tradition. It’s the kind of experience worth writing home about.
