The name of the country itself hints that the climate there is not very warm. And this is where all of its charm is hiding: it’s like the Snow Queen looking at you with her cold piercing eyes. And you can spend ages looking at this country: the waterfalls, the rocks, the volcanos, the beaches with black sand, and 8 months a year when you can see the Northern Lights. All these things make Iceland a country from a parallel reality that anyone would love to go to, at least for a little vacay.
We at Bright Side think that there should be things to fuel our dreams and this article does exactly that. Now is probably the best time to start saving for a trip to Iceland to see its beauty with your own eyes. It’s definitely worth it.
“My sister rented an apartment in the north of Iceland for Christmas, and this is her view.”

Before 1987, every Thursday in Iceland, there were no TV broadcasts.

The people from Iceland born before 1987 joke that they were probably conceived on a Thursday. The thing is, Thursdays were the days of communication when people were supposed to pay more attention to each other. This is why the only channel in the country at the time didn’t work on Thursdays.
Footage from the Icelandic TV show Keeping up with the Kattarshians, where cats are filmed living in a tiny home

Black sand beach in Iceland

“In Iceland, you can hand-draw a map on your mail, without an address, and it will still make it to its destination.”

- That’s because buildings are so far apart from each other and there are lots of distinct geographical locations, so it is easy to determine the location. The-Daily-Meme / Reddit
Blue Lagoon in Iceland is a geothermal hot spring that wasn’t open to tourists until the 1990s.

- That’s insane, it simultaneously looks like the hottest and coldest place on the planet. obamium-11 / Reddit
The people in Iceland can see the Northern Lights 8 months a year.

- Wow… one of the things I’d really like to see some time in my lifetime… FrayAdjacent / Reddit
“There are places in Iceland where you can be standing on the North American and European tectonic plates at the same time. This rift was from an earthquake.”

There’s a cave shaped like Yoda in Iceland. Do you see it?

“Iceland does not want to deal with your stupidity — and I think that’s beautiful.”

“Traveling within Iceland because we couldn’t go elsewhere. Found these guys sheltering themselves from the wind…”

And there’s a magnificent glacier in the background!
Glacier rivers in Iceland

- I used to have an art teacher who went to Iceland every year. He had hundreds of photos of the countryside. I have never seen anything like this country. The bizarre colors and shapes that naturally occur there are nothing more than breathtaking. JanJaapen / Reddit
A black church called the Heimaey Stave Church

- I was fortunate enough to see this church in person last year. There is a spring/fountain very close nearby with some of the cleanest and tastiest water I’ve ever had. Hard to even describe. Sletzer / Reddit
The Kerið Crater in winter is unreal.
“A photo of a road and landscape I took”

- Looks like wallpaper for an iPad pro. maurosauro / Reddit
- I’d be happy to sell it to Apple. thomyorkeftw / Reddit
The last McDonald’s cheeseburger sold in Iceland. McDonald’s no longer exists in this country.

“Stayed in an unusual hotel near The Golden Circle in Iceland”

“This crater lake in Iceland merges with a powerful glacial river. One of the most surreal sunrises I’ve ever experienced”

This very cozy street in Iceland

- This whole country is cozy. Seriously. I went there last winter and I’ve never been to a more cozy place in my life. dc-redpanda / Reddit
The view from some public restrooms in Iceland

“The puffins returned to eastern Iceland this week. I was lucky enough to see thousands of them in one spot.”

“This house my wife and I stayed at while in Iceland”

- Pretty much every building in Iceland has a view as good as this, that country is just insane. Chilis1 / Reddit
A sunset snowstorm in Iceland

I have the urge to set this as my phone’s wallpaper.
Would you like to travel to this amazing country?
My Husband Went on Vacation..

I thought my husband would be there for me when my mom passed away, but instead, he chose a vacation to Hawaii over my grief. Devastated, I faced the funeral alone. But when he returned, he walked into a situation he never expected—a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. I was at work when the doctor’s number flashed on my phone, and somehow, I knew what was coming. My heart sank even before I answered. Mom was gone. Just like that. One minute she was fighting a minor lung infection, and the next… nothing. My world stopped making sense.
I don’t remember much after that. One moment I was sitting in my cubicle, and the next I was home, fumbling with my keys, eyes blurred with tears. John’s car was in the driveway, another one of his “work-from-home” days, which usually meant ESPN muted in the background while he pretended to answer emails.“John?” My voice echoed through the house. “I need you.” He stepped into the kitchen, holding a coffee mug, looking mildly annoyed. “What’s wrong? You look terrible.” I tried to speak, but the words got tangled in my throat. I reached out to him, desperate for comfort. He sighed and gave me a quick, awkward pat on the back, like he was consoling a distant acquaintance. “My mom… she died, John. Mom’s gone.” His grip tightened for a moment. “Oh, wow. That’s… I’m sorry.” Then, just as quickly, he pulled away. “Do you want me to order takeout?
Maybe Thai?” I nodded, numb. The next day, reality hit hard. There was so much to handle—planning the funeral, notifying family, and dealing with a lifetime of memories. As I sat at the kitchen table, buried in lists, I remembered our planned vacation. “John, we’ll need to cancel Hawaii,” I said, looking up from my phone. “The funeral will probably be next week, and—” “Cancel?”
He lowered his newspaper, frowning. “Edith, those tickets were non-refundable. We’d lose a lot of money. Besides, I’ve already booked my golf games.” I stared at him, stunned. “John, my mother just died.” He folded the newspaper with the kind of precision that told me he was more irritated than concerned. “I get that you’re upset, but funerals are for family. I’m just your husband—your cousins won’t even notice I’m not there. You can handle things here, and you know I’m not great with emotional stuff.” It felt like I’d been punched in the gut. “Just my husband?” “You know what I mean,” he muttered, avoiding my gaze and adjusting his tie. “Besides, someone should use those tickets. You can text me if you need anything.” I felt like I was seeing him clearly for the first time in 15 years of marriage. The week that followed was a blur. John occasionally offered a stiff pat on the shoulder or suggested I watch a comedy to lift my mood. But when the day of the funeral came, he was on a plane to Hawaii, posting Instagram stories of sunsets and cocktails. “#LivingMyBestLife,” one caption read. Meanwhile, I buried my mother alone on a rainy Thursday. That night, sitting in an empty house, surrounded by untouched sympathy casseroles, something snapped inside me. I had spent years making excuses for John’s emotional absence. “He’s just not a feelings person,” I would say. “He shows his love in other ways.” But I was done pretending.I called my friend Sarah, a realtor. “Can you list the house for me? Oh, and include John’s Porsche in the deal.” “His Porsche? Eddie, he’ll lose it!” “That’s the point.” The next morning, “potential buyers” started showing up. I sat in the kitchen, sipping coffee, watching as they circled John’s beloved car. When his Uber finally pulled into the driveway, I couldn’t help but smile. It was showtime. John stormed in, face flushed. “Edith, what the hell? People are asking about my car!” “Oh, that. I’m selling the house. The Porsche is a great bonus, don’t you think?”He sputtered, pulling out his phone. “This is insane! I’ll call Sarah right now!” “Go ahead,” I said sweetly. “Maybe you can tell her about your fabulous vacation. How was the beach?” Realization slowly dawned across his face. “This… is this some kind of payback? Did I do something wrong?” I stood, letting my anger finally surface. “You abandoned me when I needed you most. I’m just doing what you do: looking out for myself. After all, I’m just your wife, right?” John spent the next hour frantically trying to shoo away buyers, while begging me to reconsider. By the time Sarah texted that her friends had run out of patience, I let him off the hook—sort of. “Fine. I won’t sell the house or the car.” I paused. “This time.” He sagged with relief. “Thank you, Edith. I—” I held up my hand. “But things are going to change. I needed my husband, and you weren’t there. You’re going to start acting like a partner, or next time, the For Sale sign will be real.” He looked ashamed, finally understanding the gravity of his actions. “What can I do to make this right?” “You can start by showing up. Be a partner, not a roommate. I lost my mother, John. That kind of grief isn’t something you can fix with a vacation or a fancy dinner.” He nodded. “I don’t know how to be the man you need, but I love you, and I want to try.” It’s not perfect now. John still struggles with emotions, but he’s going to therapy, and last week, for the first time, he asked me how I was feeling about Mom. He listened while I talked about how much I missed her calls and how I sometimes still reach for the phone, only to remember she’s not there. He even opened up a little about his own feelings. It’s progress. Baby steps. I often wonder what Mom would say about all this. I can almost hear her chuckling, shaking her head. “That’s my girl,” she’d say. “Never let them see you sweat. Just show them the ‘For Sale’ sign instead.” Because if there’s one thing she taught me, it’s that strength comes in many forms. Sometimes it’s pushing through the pain, and sometimes it’s knowing when to push back.
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