Full circle in Bali

The people whom one meets in Kuta, Bali, are likely to be either Indonesian or Australian--two of the most fun-loving, outgoing nationalities on the planet. They, and the island of Bali, where our journey will end, could not be more different from the people and the island where the journey began: Iceland.

It was thus a serendipitous surprise to learn that the person with whom we've conversed the most around our hotel pool is a pale Icelandic youth who has been at the hotel for over a month, even longer than we will be there.

Siggy is a web designer by trade and thus able to work wherever he can find a good Internet connection. Who can blame him for choosing workplaces other than his frigid and, as he puts it, insanely expensive homeland?  Of course, we don't see much evidence of his toiling away on the hotel's excellent wifi connection. After all, he has found a lovely Indonesian girlfriend, with whom he cuddles by the pool when not chatting with us about his worldwide adventures.

And what adventures Siggy has had! From his deposit's being held hostage by a Kuala Lumpur hotel to running out of money in New York City.  And yet, voluble as he is, he shares his countrymen's peculiarly frozen demeanor--a reserve that keeps their bodies swathed in soft control and their ice-blue eyes nearly unblinking.  Icelanders make no sudden movements.

As many as 50 percent of them also hold a guarded belief in elves. These are not the tiny, pointed-green-cap, curled-up-red-slippers species of Santa's Workshop, but rather the powerful huldufolk ("hidden folk"), human-size, somewhat-invisible beings straight out of Lord of the Rings. One researcher in Icelandic folklore has written: "You've got to get right up close before you can be sure it's an elf and not a human." These creatures are said to be mostly benign, and in fact protect humans who accommodate them nicely, but they dislike having their territory monkeyed with. If it is, dire accidents can befall both equipment and humans. In fact, I am having trouble posting this entry.  I may have offended them.  If so, I heartily apologize and accede to their power. Really. I now fear returning to Iceland without their approval.

Once you've seen the craggy lava fields between Reykjavik and its airport, where hunched gnome-shaped rock formations dot the landscape, belief in such beings begins to seem downright rational. Icelandic seers over the centuries have claimed to sense the energy of elf churches and underground dwellings, and still advise such governmental departments as the Icelandic Road and Coastal Administration. Work on a recent highway project near Reykjavik was halted until a plan could be devised to avoid disturbing well-established elf habitat.

It's all a bit strange, though Siggy is not. On the other hand, perhaps he is an elf rendered visible by the warmth of Bali. I suppose we must get right up close to be sure.