An old turf-roofed sheep barn is, to them, still a turf-roofed sheep barn.
If that sounds like an extraordinary sense of memory, think of this: people keep it around, too.
Iceland has pioneered the control of Jökulhlaups, catastrophic glacial outflow rivers, in Skaftafell National Park, by being familiar with the land enough to copy its models.
In addition to the deflective butts of rock redirecting Bæjargil as it streams down from Svartifoss, the Black Falls, there’s a troll in the stream bed. There usually is. That’s the spirit of the rock, just as the water-deflecting dikes are in the distance. What? Did someone tell you that trolls are mythological? No, they are us.
So, you have a bunch of troll bones in a stream at Skeljanes. Weird troll writing on it. How are you going to blend in with that so you look like you own the place?

Easy guys.
This next one is trying to blend in with the sea at the same time. All those waves, eh.

That’s how it’s done. And if someone says your head is as hard as a rock, ha, that would be, like, a double compliment!
The Blue Lagoon. A great place to dip into the waste water of a geothermal station.
You can lie on the beach and soak up the good vibes, too.
Very popular. There’s only room for a few.

And fish is served in the restaurant. Very pricey. On a cafeteria tray. And aren’t those IKEA dishes?
May I suggest a little drive to the North? Sigriðarstaðarós beckons, with a fine view north past the beached troll seals at the feet of Hvitserkur …

… to Skeljanes.
This is the real Blue Lagoon, right where the salmon swim out of the Húnafjörður into the Sigriðarstaðavatn, a lake by name but more like a fine estuarine lagoon full of young salmon going to sea and big ones flicking back. Make sure you keep your feet out of the water. Lift, good people, lift!
Munch some salmon, soak a little in the sun…

… it’s a good life. And for a power station, the ogre herself.

Friends, think blue.
What do volcanoes dream of? (Let’s face it, they sure do dream.)
Snæfell
Why, heading a football for the national team, of course.

Þingvellir
Sometimes you have to wait for the team to come, though. Sidelined on a bench. That’s the danger of being an ogre. Well, you take it in stride, right?
It’s hard for a land to evolve into human society, but it’s inspiring that it’s giving it a good Icelandic try!