Sing and cry: Valhalla, I am coming!

Last week was the start of a journey nearly 25 years in the making.

In 2001, I met my eventually-would-be husband. I was a poor journalist, and he was a poor retail worker, and we decided to be poor together.

In all that time, Andy and I have never gone on a vacation where I wasn’t working (!) or where we didn’t see family. We couldn’t afford it.

Now, this isn’t a complaint. The fact that I even get to leave my province on adventures is a privilege many don’t have.

As we got married and had a Bean, we planned vacations, but something always happened. One of us would be laid off. Something expensive would break. My boss would tell me that he’s sorry, but there’s no one to take over if I leave so he can’t approve vacation time… while spending half the winter in Arizona. (Don’t worry, I left that jer…uh, job quickly.)

But I digress.

Last year, my husband turned 50, and last Friday was his last day of post-secondary school after he decided to return as a mature student.

And I made the decision that we were going to go on a bucket-list trip to celebrate, dammit.

So, on his 50th, I surprised him with airplane tickets and a guidebook and even managed to capture the bewildered look on his face on camera when he opened it. (I’d post it here, but he would be upset that I showed everyone his goofiest expression. The photo above duplicates it well.)

Since we left from Winnipeg, people asked me if we were going somewhere warm.

They all looked as bewildered as Andy when I told them we were going to Iceland.

Perhaps it’s gauche to bring up your vacation when people are tightening their belts and tariffs have upended the world economy.

But after a quarter-century of never being able to pull this off, it was time to get off this continent for a while and enjoy the (epic) landscape and each other.

So off we went to the land of ice and snow, midnight sun and hot springs that flow.

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