1 The Missing Bag and the Midnight Sun

Saturday, 13 June 2026 

For Geetha & me, the day began with a hurried shower at Dosti before we set out for the airport. Ramesh and Gopi had already reached Terminal 2, their calm efficiency contrasting sharply with our own chaotic progress through security. Our hiking shoes, worn proudly as badges of preparedness, became the villains of the morning, holding us hostage at the scanners while immigration dragged its feet. This, of course, was why we had arrived early.

The Emirates A380 towered above us, a double-decker giant ready to swallow us whole. Ramesh and Gopi, meticulous as ever, had secured our seats well in advance. The route was clear: Mumbai to Dubai, Dubai to Oslo, and finally, the land of the Vikings—Keflavik.

Dubai was a blur of underground metros and hurried transfers. Between two breakfasts, a heavy lunch, and the surreal irony of watching Avatar: The Way of Water while heading toward Iceland’s watery landscapes, we finally touched Icelandic airspace. The landing was dramatic enough to fling open the overhead racks, a theatrical welcome to this land of fire and ice.

At Oslo airport, during the brief transit before boarding Icelandair, we paused for our first group photo. Seven travelers stood together, unaware of the twists awaiting us: Ramesh and Anita, steady and meticulous; Gopi, practical and resourceful, with Usha’s quiet strength beside him; Adhvitha, their college‑going daughter, bringing youthful energy and curiosity; Geetha, radiant and unsuspecting of the luggage saga about to unfold; and myself, chronicler of this journey. We smiled into the camera, capturing the moment of unity before Iceland itself began to test us.

But the real drama was waiting at the carousel. Out of four checked bags, Geetha’s suitcase—the one carrying her winter wardrobe and personal essentials—was missing. The Icelandair desk, calm as a glacier, informed us it was still sitting in Oslo. They offered a brochure for winter clothing rentals, but with our tour vehicle scheduled for 8:30 AM the next morning, there was no time to chase down substitutes.

We checked into the Foss Hotel Baron in Reykjavik, weary yet wide-eyed. And then came the revelation—the midnight sun. At 11:00 PM, the sky blazed with daylight, refusing to dim, refusing to let the night in. We pulled the blackout curtains tight, trying to trick our bodies into believing it was time to sleep. But the mind was restless, caught between exhaustion and wonder.

The suitcase was missing, the sun refused to set, and the adventure had only just begun. Tomorrow, the Ring Road awaited…

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