To say that I grew up Icelandic may be a bit of an exaggeration, but I’m a Canadian girl who grew up in one of the most multicultural cities in the world. Namely Toronto. I was always a little bit jealous of those whose heritage was more exotic than my own. So, when called upon, I mined my own genealogy and relied heavily on the not-British parts of my heritage. I call myself Icelandic.
My grandmother, or Amma, as grandmas are called in Iceland, was born in Saskatchewan to Icelandic farmers featured in the photo below. Her eldest sibling (she was one of 11) was born in Iceland and genetically speaking my Amma was 100% true Icelander. That makes me 1/4th Icelandic. I cherish that quarter of myself.
My dad, Joe Martin, is a professional historian and an amateur genealogist, (you may recognize him from the discussion tonight). He relished his Icelandic roots. I always felt that my Icelandic heritage was an important part of my family history and most of what I know about Iceland, Icelanders and the history behind their emigration I learned from him at dinner table conversations, and not from researching this show.
This is a little of what I know:
They are a stoic people of few words.
They didn’t smile in photos (proof below)
The weather in Saskatchewan was way colder than Iceland
In 1988 my family went to the mother country for a family vacation:
My dad visited graveyards and mapped out our family tree. My Amma connected with relatives she had never met and spoke Icelandic for the first time in 60 years. My siblings and I hiked volcanoes, saw geysers and witnessed the beauty that is Iceland.
Today Iceland is fighting for its financial life. Its currency is unstable and inflation is at 10%. The good news: Lonely Planet named it the best value destination in 2010. Go Iceland!
