The Icelandic language is the closest Nordic language to the old Norse of the Viking, as the other Scandinavian countries have customized it to nigh unrecognizable. Fine. We elevate and climb to the top of the unpronounceable church Hallgrímskirkja, we look out on the houses of Reyjkavik, the capital city that holds two thirds of Iceland’s entire population. I pull out the kind of gigantic lens that makes everyone in the church tower raise their eyebrows, jab it through the narrow slot between stone columns, and I flatten the vivid colored houses that I can only assume the Icelanders paint to brighten spirits in lengthy winters with 4 hours of daylight. Mission accomplished.