Sunday 21 June 2026
At 3:15 AM, alarms rang. By 4:30, we were in a taxi to Keflavik Airport. By 5:30, checked in for the 7:40 flight. Then chaos struck. The aircraft lavatories hadn’t been serviced, delaying departure.
In Copenhagen, passport control was a nightmare, queues snaking endlessly. Our Emirates flight to Dubai was scheduled for 3:15 PM; by 2:45, panic set in.
Then came salvation. Officials announced an emergency line for Dubai‑bound passengers. Around 150 of us dashed across the terminal, cleared the gates, and sprinted onto the aircraft. The plane pushed back at 4:15, and relief washed over us.
After a smooth transit through Dubai, we touched down in Mumbai at 8:15 AM. The cabin doors opened, and the humid embrace of home wrapped around us. The chaos of traffic, the chatter of crowds, the warmth of familiarity — all of it shattered the Arctic stillness we had lived in for a week.
We had left Mumbai with packed theplas, winter jackets, and traveler’s anxiety. We returned carrying memories of midnight suns, thundering waterfalls, and ancient ice on black sand. More than landscapes, it was the shared moments that anchored themselves deeply: the missing suitcase, the locked bus, the birthday under foreign skies, the laughter over salty ice cream.
Looking at our wind‑burned faces in the rearview mirror, it was clear we hadn’t just witnessed Iceland. We had let its raw spirit expand our horizons. We returned profoundly enriched, deeply humbled, and eternally tied together by a journey to the edge of the world.
I always used to think airports in western countries were well organised and systematic, surprising to read in your blog that you faced long queues there.
ReplyDelete