Why is it that going north as far as I can is so appealing to me? I love that I'm living in the northernmost capitol city, and the first trip I ever took in Iceland was north as far as I could go in 3 days. I was given the choice of the action-packed South Coast, full of waterfalls and farms or the much more grueling and stark West Fjords, and I took the latter so I could go further north. Even before Iceland was part of my world, I wanted to go north into Canada, to go past the reaches of cities into empty hillsides that surely were somewhere up there in the Frozen North.
Lately I have been forgetting just how far up on the world I sit, surrounded by all this polished real estate (my new home!) and high-tech gear at work. There are plenty of familiar products that you see in the States, but somehow they seem more hard-won when they're at 66 degrees north. Of course, nothing reminds me better than looking at the auroral activity and seeing the amoeba of Iceland right in the middle of the band where it happens. Since this effect is only available in the Mystical Northern Reaches, it seems wrong to have it screaming across the sky in green splendor, huge arcs waving in the corners and disappearing into the teal blue of the fading sky-light above this city that in plenty of ways is just like any other city. Don't these colors belong over the darkened silhouettes of pine trees, only visible after much effort is expended in getting to that location?
Why does it make me so happy to see it? Why is north so much more alluring than going really far south?