Relatedly, was completely overwhelmed by standing in Iceland for a brief time. The light, the air. If I had my druthers, these perigrinations would be in the north of the continent. Ancestral homelands and points north. Heaven is there, it seems.
But aside from the increasing military scrapping over the Arctic, the world-effective social confluenes remain in the south. (Cf. "Dostoyevsky reads Hegel in Siberia and burst s into tears")
So, the Fates apparently want the useless and Quixotic fellow in the Balkans. Amor fati.