To Go Viking (Without the Plundering): On Being a Conscious and Curious Traveller

I was contacted by a couple of students from Moorestown Friends School ahead of their study visit to Iceland in March. They were preparing a blog post about their second day on the Reykjanes Peninsula. Their questions were simple and thoughtful.

• Do people live near the Mid-Atlantic Ridge?
• How do locals feel about tourism?
• How can we be respectful and thoughtful visitors?
• And how did you end up doing this work?

Good questions. The kind that make you pause before answering. Their curiosity made me reflect on something I think about often, but perhaps do not articulate enough.

What does it actually mean to be a conscious and curious traveller today?

I travel a lot. Mostly for work. Projects in Europe. University visits in the United States. Meetings about regenerative tourism in the Arctic. Teacher training workshops in global geoparks. The irony is not lost on me: I once promised, upon graduating, that I would never set foot inside a school building again. Since then, I have built a career around education, field learning and international collaboration.

And yet, no matter where I go, I always come home to Iceland. There is something deeply Nordic about that rhythm. Travel out. Come back wiser. Or as a recent Icelandic lyric says: "Hver vegur að heiman, er vegurinn heim". Every road away from home, is also the road leading back home.

Að fara í víking

The early settlers of Iceland did not actually call themselves Vikings. The word “Viking” was a verb. To go viking meant to travel, to explore, to trade, occasionally to behave badly (we have improved since then). But crucially, it also meant to return home with stories, skills and perspective.

That part of the tradition is worth keeping.

Today, travel is easier than ever. Flights are frequent. Destinations are curated. Landscapes are photographed before they are understood. But being a traveller in today’s world requires something more than movement. It requires awareness.

Over the past twenty years working in education, sustainability and international cooperation — from vocational training networks to renewable energy programmes to outdoor STEAM education across Europe  — I have come to believe that the most important skill a traveller can develop is not efficiency, but attentiveness.

Glöggt er gests augað

The Icelandic proverb Glöggt er gests augað translates roughly to “the eye of the visitor is keen.” A visitor sees what the local no longer notices. The blackness of a mountain. The cracks in the pavement. The quality of the light. The contradictions in society. The opportunities in your own trait you may have quietly ignored.

But the proverb also carries responsibility. If your eye is keen, you must look carefully — and respectfully. And here is the paradox of being “global” in today’s world. We often think it means looking outward: travelling widely, understanding other cultures, expanding horizons. And it does. But true global awareness also requires the courage to look inward.

When you see another culture clearly, you inevitably begin to see your own more critically. Your habits. Your assumptions. Your blind spots.

A conscious and curious traveller does both. They observe the world — and they examine themselves within it. That is where travel becomes more than movement. That is where it becomes growth.

So what does it mean to be a conscious and curious traveller today?

1. Landscapes are not just backdrops (and definitely not just for Instagram)

First, it means understanding that landscapes are not stage sets designed for our arrival. They are living systems, shaped by forces far older and far more powerful than us.

When you stand on the Mid-Atlantic Ridge in Iceland, you are not just posing between tectonic plates. You are standing in a region where communities have felt earthquakes beneath their homes and where volcanic systems are part of everyday reality. When you visit a glacier, you are not simply ticking off a landmark. You are witnessing climate change in real time.

The truth is that most travellers have already “seen” these places long before they arrive. Through social media, drone footage, curated reels and filtered sunsets. But there is a difference between consuming an image and experiencing a place.

Curiosity should lead to better questions. Not just “How do I get the best photo?” but “What shaped this landscape?” “How is it changing?” and “Who lives with these forces every day?”

A conscious traveller understands that the view is not there for you. You are there to understand the view.

2. Contribute more than you consume

In our work with regenerative tourism, we often ask a simple question: How can travel leave a place stronger than it found it?

It's not only about minimising your carbon footprint, it's about how you can leave a positive impact. That might mean supporting local producers. It might mean travelling outside peak seasons. Talking to a local person and learning about their lives. It might mean listening to a guide tell a long story rather than rushing to the next viewpoint.

Sometimes contribution is small and practical. Picking up litter that is not yours. Staying on marked paths. Respecting closures even when no one is watching.

I promise you — no one has ever regretted leaving a place slightly better than they found it.

3. Adaptability is a skillset (and in Iceland, often a survival strategy)

Third, it means staying adaptable. I have lived in Denmark for over a decade and spent a couple of years in the United States. Working across cultures has taught me that adaptability is the ability to feel at home while fully aware that you are not at home.

In Iceland, adaptability is more than a soft skill. It is embedded in our culture. When you live with shifting tectonic plates, unpredictable weather and frequent volcanic eruptions, flexibility is not optional. Plans change. Roads close. Nature sets the agenda. You adjust accordingly.

That mindset has shaped how Icelanders think and act. We improvise. We pivot. We rarely assume tomorrow will look exactly like today.

For a traveller, adaptability is humility in action. It means recognising that your way is not the only way. That weather may rewrite your schedule. That people you come across may point you in a direction you did not anticipate. That sometimes the best experiences happen because the itinerary failed.

Or as we say Þetta reddast. It will work out — not because nothing goes wrong, but because we adapt when it does.

4. Let the journey influence you

When we host students at GeoCamp Iceland, we often tell them that travel is not about collecting places. It is about collecting perspectives, memories and stories. If you return home exactly as you left - with the same assumptions, same certainty, same worldview - then you may have moved geographically, but you have not really travelled.

Through the eyes of visitors, I constantly rediscover my own country. Their questions make me pause. Why do we do things this way? Why have I stopped noticing that? Their observations reveal details I had quietly filed away as ordinary.

Travel should do that to you. It should unsettle you slightly. Stretch you. Challenge your habits and your confidence. Not in a dramatic way, but in a reflective one. That is the real exchange. Not just economic. Not just cultural performance. Mutual learning.

Perhaps this is where global citizenship truly begins — not with how many countries you have visited, but with your willingness to examine yourself in light of what you encounter.

The journey should influence you. Otherwise, it was just transportation.

5. Slow down, you’re not a drone

And finally, being a good traveller means slowing down. Not everything needs to be documented. Not every moment needs to be uploaded instantly. Some landscapes deserve to be experienced without a lens between you and the wind.

Stand still. Feel the ground beneath you. Listen to the birds — or in Iceland’s case, listen to the wind. We have a saying: Lognið fer hratt yfir or the calm passes quickly. On the surface, it is a tongue-in-cheek reference to Iceland’s notoriously windy conditions. Even calm weather rarely lasts long. But it is also a reminder that moments are temporary. Stillness is fleeting. If you are always adjusting your camera angle, you may miss the calm entirely.

Travel, at its best, is education. It is philosophy in motion. It is project management without a Gantt chart. It is STEAM learning without classroom walls.

Vits er þörf þeim er víða ratar (Wisdom is needed by those who travel widely)

These words of wisdom written by the early settlers a millennium ago are as timely today as they were then. Movement alone is not enough. The more ground you cover, the more judgement you must carry with you. Travel without reflection is just logistics. Travel with awareness becomes growth.

So yes, go full viking. Travel widely. Be curious. Ask difficult questions. Explore new cultures. Taste unfamiliar food. Get slightly lost. And when you take a wrong turn — pay attention. That is often where the learning begins.

But leave the plundering behind.

Return home with stories, skills and a better understanding of the world ... and of yourself. Because in the end, the most important destination is not the place you visit. It is the person you become on the journey.

As John Lennon wrote, life is what happens to you while you are busy making other plans. The same is true for travel. The most valuable lessons rarely arrive on schedule. They appear in delays, in wrong turns, in conversations you did not plan to have, in landscapes that you stop to notice, not through the lens, but truly observe.

I once vowed, quite confidently, that I would never set foot inside a classroom again. Today, I realise that every day has become one. Cities. Airports. Conference halls. Fishing villages. Lava fields. Geothermal pools. Sitting at kitchen tables. Listening to stories that shift your assumptions.

The world has a way of educating you.

If you let it.

Arnbjörn Ólafsson
Managing Director, GeoCamp Iceland and a modern-day Viking (minus the plundering)