Writing about invisible things we always carry on our shoulders is easy and difficult. It’s easy because it’s a pervasive feeling. And it’s difficult because it’s like a tangled bundle tightly knotted and unbearable to bear. My trip to Iceland has become entangled with these concepts.
The NOM Project: Traveling Without a Map
Before delving into the story of the journey, I must mention that the ticketing department of a foreign airline provided me with the opportunity to undertake several trips at their expense, in return for which I would create several clips documenting my travel experiences.
Professional travel usually takes a long time to materialize and results from exhausting tasks, from creating resumes to writing detailed proposals, where everything must be anticipated. Proposals have very complex standards, and preparing them has always been one of my most challenging journeys.
I named the project “NOM” as an abbreviation for “Not On the Map.” The main idea behind this project was to travel without a map or planning and embrace whatever came our way. For the first time on this trip, a company generously allowed me to bring two assistants to handle the technical aspects of video production.
This is how our team was formed, our cheerful team! While the main route of the journey was through the northernmost circuit of the Earth, our team’s primary map was how to get lost! In a land of volcanoes and hot springs, in a country formed by at least thirty large islands and countless small ones, where temporary islands are created alongside active volcanoes and hot springs, getting lost wasn’t too tricky.
Challenging Societal Expectations
Later, I pondered extensively on the NOM project: disappearing, non-existent, unreachable, hiding, and living like a nomad. What allure does constantly wandering aimlessly and simultaneously going deep have? This is a desire that sometimes arises in people’s hearts.
What does society expect from me that I desire to distance myself from and live like a stranger?
I think about predetermined things: class, social status, norms, and rituals corresponding to each class, as well as society’s demands on each individual to make them successful, happy, and social beings.
I flip through Pierre Bourdieu’s book “Distinction.” The book is complete with various statistics, examining trends and fashions of the years, and has been written. The language of the book is challenging, filled with complex arguments, and requires deep sociological knowledge to understand. Still, beneath it, I know we live in a world where almost everything is predetermined. Not only our thoughts and feelings but also what food we eat, how our clothes look to be accepted in society, the design of our homes, our hangouts, and even what flavor we prefer.
Adhering to a set of rules that belong to our class brings us a label: “I am successful!” “I am happy!” “I am fortunate!” See my life and emulate it! Social media also helps us present a postcard of this life to others. Now, it’s enough that we don’t adhere to the unique culture of each social class, that artificial etiquette, that clothing and makeup, those behaviors that tell us women how to be respectable and mature ladies.
Then, society points fingers at us or pushes us aside as an unnatural link. We get labeled as “antisocial,” and we become “losers.” Nowadays, people distance themselves from losers as if it were a contagious disease.
They want us to conform. Many of those who expect us to toe the line themselves go crazy within these confines, but we all must participate in this game, stand against each other, and bring each other to disgrace. Society explicitly tells us: “Swimming against the current costs you.” But I’ve always wanted to be that little black fish that leaves its safe environment and embarks on a journey with a dream, following the river’s course. It believes that the river leads somewhere and a bigger world exists.
Fighting is hard, very hard. I’ve never had the strength to fight; sometimes I’ve bent; sometimes I’ve faltered; sometimes I’ve thrown in the towel; there’s no solution, but in my heart, there’s always a little black fish swimming with the dream of reaching the ocean.
