So one year in Iceland came to an abrupt end in anticipation of the next chapter but lest we forget it. I feel like part of it was jaded by the some what dragging winter but let’s not underestimate our time spent in the land of fire and ice.

Hopes and fears

When I worked with young people we’d always ask to start of with ‘what are your hopes and fears?’, and EVS (European Voluntary Service) was similar in that we walked into this same question. As ever, these bits of paper were tucked up in a cupboard and didn’t set the light of day now could they have ever truly been able to predict how the year was to unfold. Nothing could. No amount of thinking time could have prepared me for what was to happen over the following year.

I will now try to do an inspired by Baz Lurman’s ‘Sunscreen song’ run down of the lessons learnt.

Once upon a time, 8 strangers came to live together to volunteer in Iceland and ‘Barma’ was born.

Barma is not a cult, we did a buzzfeed quiz just to make sure; ‘Barma’ is a way of life and it has been my home for the past year.

It was a gradual process but as we spent time getting to know one another and learning the ways of the house, we started to notice something was going on around us.

Through a shared interest in trying to make the world a better place, these strangers became my super hero’s and got me through the darkest of winters

I have been working at a women’s shelter in Iceland for 7 months now. There is a shelter for women and children fleeing domestic violence but you must be sober to access their services. Konukot is for homeless women who may use substances and who suffer from challenges with their mental health. All the staff and guests are female, though all genders can make use of the needle exchange, male visitors were asked to wait outside. Konukot is a place where women can come to rest, eat and freshen up between 5pm - 10 am. The place is shut during the day. It is not temporary accommodation, simply a bed for a night with a focus on harm reduction, offering a consumption room in the basement - the first of it’s kind in the island. Over the past few months I have got to know a few of the regulars.

Tonight two women shared their stories with me.

Pre-departure I was feeling freakishly apprehensive about heading over to what was known as ‘the jungle’. This was potentially due to me being mostly off grid and I wasn’t aware of the current situation but I had heard something about said ‘jungle’ burning down.

I had no idea what to expect I just knew I was going alone to Calais, driving and living in a van – each a new experience all of its own, go hard or go home. Feel the fear and do it anyway had become my mantra and with a previous boss etching in my brain that problems with mere challenges, oh boy was I entering a season of ‘opportunity for some serious growth’.

In Rwanda I was using contacts from my Fathers charity, to create a dialogue with women and girls about periods to see if the similar challenges were being faced also there. I found myself surrounded by groups of different aged females and would begin by asking them to share their experiences with me, 'So, how did you learn about periods?'. It wouldn't be long before someone shared an anecdote of finding out when they got their period, or they heard horror stories of never ending blood from older sisters, friends.

One time I had an interpreter and was speaking to a group of women who were learning how to sew to make their own money. The stories shared were going beyond menstruation now. As we began to speak more broadly the conversation moved onto local traditions, pregnancy. And rape.

In 2016 I set out on my first ‘solo’ adventure. I’d applied to volunteer as a team leader for the International Citizen Service, supporting a group of national and international volunteers. From the list of places they worked in, I was leaning towards Asia as I had a teenage of dream to visit at some point. However, I wasn’t disappointed when I found out I would be sent out to work in Uganda for three months. At 17 and again aged 21, I had visited neighbouring Rwanda with my Fathers Charity

I was at a place in life where I had set fire to my life and was keen to figure out just how does one start over, particularly moving to another location.

July 2016//A Long Walk to Freedom//193 Miles completed, alone, yet alongside others. I walked myself back to me, in my most organic state - I was free. It rained for chunks (despite it being July), the wind blew, and I carried my life, my home in a bag, for two weeks, walking across the country, coast to coast. Some places were isolated and remote, others led me to a surrogate Australian family and even ended up spending a night with a female astronaut (who had been into actual space!).

0% training or prep, after all, it’s just walking.