Entering Iceland, it’s like we’re flying into a white space. For several moments, I wondered if I was a character in Jose Samarago’s Blindness, where the whiteness is just so all-encompassing and complete, like there’s nothing else that exists. I must admit there was a great sense of anticipation as to what we might see when we finally burst out of this white canvas, or if we would simply land in such conditions. All of a sudden, I saw the deep blue of the Atlantic ocean, and felt a palpable sense of relief knowing there was concrete land to be anticipated. But it wasn’t long before the land mass of…