I will leave the mysticism for later. Let's get some hard data. The unnecessary rudeness.
Why the fuck I moved to Iceland?
I know. Iceland? Mexico? Don’t you die of cold? Those incautious people, who don’t conceive life with the existence of radiators at home, would ask me. But I don't blame them. Not even in my most Inception-like dreams (those in which, by just thinking about it, I’m already turning the world upside down) I imagine living in such place. To begin with, IT’S AN ISLAND.
Sometimes ... only sometimes, I think of myself as in that scene of Lilo & Stitch, pedalling from one extreme to the other, to realize that I am on an island. But come on, few places can feel huge for me when I am from the monstrous Mexico City.
Secondly, I never thought that I would be able to see the snow in my life. It snowed once in Ajusco (A mountain that is nearby Mexico city) and my family joined the many that went to play with, the rather, sleet that was on the ground. Now, the snow is one of my greatest terrors. Well, not so much snow as ICE. The one that has taught me to walk like a penguin. The one that has shown me that I am not only clumsy, but that I am certainly a daughter of asphalt.
But let’s go to the rough data. I said I would talk about my life in Sweden later, and I still don't think it's the time to do so. But I can give you a preview. They scammed me. They scammed me in thousands of ways, which will become the inspiration for my pitch of the show “A thousand ways to be ripped off”. And when life lies to you, shakes you and spits you in the face, as the typical Mexican that I am, I said (insert insult of your preference) let’s get out of here, that it’s scary!"
And that’s it. I arrived to Iceland basically because of tiredness, because of meditated madness, because of the search of the lost stability by the millennial generation, for peace of mind ... for everything, and, above all, because of the face that my (back then) boyfriend made when I told him that we should get out from Sweden.
I arrived to Iceland basically because of tiredness, because of meditated madness, because of the search of the lost stability by the millennial generation, for peace of mind ... for everything, and, above all, because of the face that my (back then) boyfriend made when I told him that we should get out from Sweden.
But if the thing is to vent, I can assure you that there were more than 50 reasons why we left, which includes from job offers and salary, to the fact that it’s one of the best countries to be a woman, and even small things like having access to the delicious Appelsin, or that licorice tastes better here. I know, our twenty-something-year-old priorities.
Anyway ... the key for answering this question is the STABILITY, the one that gives us to be among people who love us and in a place that, at least one of us, already knows. The STABILITY that gives us the same country that changes weather every five minutes and that has been waiting for sixty years for a volcano to explode.