“Home is where the wifi is,” goes the saying. I guess this town is a little slice of home.
Before leaving the hotel I placed my camera on the windowsill and took a picture of myself against the blank hotel wall. I could crop this down and make something approximating a passport photo if I had no other option.
In the hotel lobby I managed to harass the printer into spitting out the last two pages of my bank statement, then a tiny passport-size version of the photo I took upstairs. The color was horrible. This would probably not work…
I rode two doors down to the bank, and hit the ATM outside it. I extracted 12,200 in Icelandic cash, then marched into the bank and had the teller wire it to the visa processing center. I asked for a receipt, which I added to the stack for the application.
Next I rode over to the restaurant and bought some pre-packaged fish for eating on the road, and then went across the main street and down a block to the post office. Time to send some gifts to some nephews!
I drew a little card to go in the box, including an anachronistic horned bicycle helmet:
Maybe I really should find some goat horns and glue them onto the helmet…
The package was expensive to ship, but nephews are worth it.
I also found a large envelope that was perfect for containing my visa paperwork. As I paid the bill I asked the woman behind the counter if she knew where I could get a passport photo. She led me outside and began pointing at streets and talking in Icelandic, so I handed her my phone and she pointed at an icon on the map that was right next to my hotel. It appeared to be the computer store I’d been looking at the other day.
I rode over there, marched inside, and repeated my question about passport photos to the clerk, a big bearded man in a smart red vest. He smiled and said, “come with me,” and waved his arm toward a door leading into the back. I noticed that he had a tattoo on his forearm reading “CANON”, in the same lettering used by the Canon photography company.
There was a full photo studio in the back room, with a neutral backdrop set up for taking passport photos. This solved my problem nicely! And no doubt it’s here because I was far from the first person to have this problem.
While the clerk powered up the hardware I asked him about the tattoo. “Yeah, I was drunk at a concert,” he said by way of explanation. “But this guy from Canon saw it on my arm and said he wanted my contact information, and then he sent me a whole computer in the mail!”
“Fantastic!” I said.
Snap snap, grin grin. Wink wink nudge nudge. “The photos will be ready in about half an hour,” he said.
I rode back to the restaurant and ordered a sit-down meal, thinking about how lucky I was to discover all these resources. Free use of a printer, passport photos across the street, a bank of the same kind required by the consulate right next door – with an ATM – a post office across the way, and then at the top of the hill a few blocks along the way to my next destination: The office where I need to drop off the finished application. All within walking distance if I didn’t have the bike. Or dumb luck? Or thoughtful civic planning?
I scooted up the hill to the visa office with my envelope. There was nobody in line.
Half an hour later it was submitted, and then all I could do with respect to the visa was wait. Maybe this office would sit on the paperwork for a few days before sending it to Reykjavík for evaluation; maybe not. Maybe they would reject the whole thing on a technicality. We shall see!
Back at the hotel I chatted with friends about American culture in Iceland. They were amused by my photos of the 50’s-style “Skalinn Diner”. Andrew pointed out that you’d actually need to look pretty hard to find retro American dining among the hundreds of restaurants all around the Bay Area back home, but it was there, in the form of Mel’s Diner and Fenton’s. Or you could go for the lowest-common-denominator modern version, with Denny’s and IHOP.
The conversation went kind of sideways from there:
Me
So is there any 50’s-style dining by your house in Crockett?
Andrew
Not on purpose.
Me
Hah! Maybe the big franchises are scared of the name. “Crockett.” Like, is that a verb? Is that something you do to food?
Andrew
It’s a weird name.
Me
It kinda sounds like the name of a detective from some old TV show.
Andrew
Yeah, there should be a 70’s TV show called “Crockett and Gooch”, and of course Crockett drives a pickup and wears cowboy boots.
Me
And Gooch is an orangutan.
Andrew
That drives a Trans-Am.
Me
And at the end of every episode, Crockett lights up a cigar and Gooch smacks it out of his mouth.
“Next week on Crockett and The Gooch: Crockett goes undercover to bust up an animal smuggling ring, and Gooch is incognito at the zoo. Can they catch the tiger by the tail before Gooch becomes a stuffed animal? Don’t miss this ape’s Great Escape! Wednesdays at six, on K-DIC: Your local loss leader.”
I told James about this, and he got in on the act:
James
Alternatively: Crockett And The Gooch is the most celebrated country radio station duo on this side of the Mississippi.
Me
Like, a wacky radio DJ duo?
James
“Welcome back to K-ROCK (k-rock) 106.5 (.5), for your morning dose of do-si-do, I’m Crockett and with me today as always is the Gooch (the gooooooooch).“
“We’re gonna be bringing you the rowdy rural rabble rousing country cowboys’ craziest concoctions for your commute, so get ready for “McGurket and the Tin-Whizzlers” new toe-tappin tune “I Just Ran Outta Beer, and the Truck Ain’t Real Near” comin to yooo on the 5 (on the fiiiiiiiive).”
Me
Oh my god. “Ya hear that Gooch? We’ve got radio DJ alter egos!” “Ook oook!” “Yeah, and it’s the perfect music for chasing down these drug traffickers!” “Oooook!” VROOOOOOMM. “Whoah slow down you crazy ape!”
James and I got to wondering: Did Icelanders’ exposure to American radio extend to crazy DJs? Because that would be awesome. I would love to hear an Icelandic take of a crazy radio DJ.
I get it. It’s a neat country. Also, if you get a visa extension for Iceland, you can travel all around the Schengen area with it.
It’s possible to apply for an extension without entering Iceland, by going through a consulate where you live. For example, back in my home near San Francisco, the Icelandic government has outsourced all their visa procedures to a company called VFS Global (on behalf of the Royal Norwegian Consulate General in New York.)
If you look online for “reviews” of that place, they are uniformly horrible. Calling them on the phone is a nightmare, and their website is glitchy. If you choose to deal with them you will be stepping directly into a bureaucratic swamp. That means you need to have everything perfectly prepared in advance, know their own rules better than they do, and never, ever be late for an appointment or a deadline by even a few seconds. Hooray!
I didn’t really want to put myself through that, especially knowing that the process could be derailed or delayed randomly, so I went looking for an alternate approach. I’m a US citizen, so your own needs may vary, but perhaps you’ll find this information useful.
Here is the Icelandic government’s official visa extension page, in English.
I didn’t plan to live permanently in Iceland, but I did have a job I could work remotely, so the best I could do was a “Long-term remote work” visa. That would extend my standard 90-day Schengen time, by tacking another 90 days onto the end of it.
It’s possible to travel around the rest of the Schengen area with this visa, but there’s a catch: You can only do that for a maximum of 90 days. So the idea is, the “remote work” visa gives you up to 90 additional days to stay exclusively in Iceland, during which your Schengen time isn’t depleted.
So if you want, you could spend all 180 days in Iceland, or you could spend 90 days in Iceland followed by 90 days somewhere else — France for example. But what you can’t do, is spend 89 days in Iceland followed by 91 days in France. That’s 1 day over the Schengen limit.
Since my plan was to cross Iceland by bike, which would take something like two months, getting this extension was still worthwhile for me.
Here are the conditions you need to meet:
You need to be making about $2000 a month, or have enough cash on hand to support yourself at that rate for the duration of your Iceland time. That’s steep, but not impossible if you plan ahead. (Official exchange rate: https://www.cb.is/statistics/official-exchange-rate/ )
You need to have a passport size photo (35mm x 45mm) of yourself taken and printed.
Thankfully there are a few conveniently located places where you can get exactly this. There’s one in Egilsstaðir, in the shopping center, next to the Arion banki. You can walk in and walk out a few hours later with three passport-worthy photos.
Applications need to be printed out on physical paper. In this day and age!
You need to include paper photocopies of all the pages of your passport.
You need to include a document confirming that you’re able to support yourself financially during your stay in Iceland.
I included a printout of my recent savings statement, showing how much money I had socked away.
I also asked my employer to sign a letter declaring that I was employed by them and had permission to work remotely, which I printed out.
You need to purchase health insurance that covers your stay.
You will of course need to print out the receipt they give you and include it as proof with your application.
You need to pay the application fee of 12.200 ISK (about 100 bucks.) This is done by wiring money directly to the consulate via a branch of their home bank, and then including proof of that payment with the application.
Note that this place is open to the public ONLY on Mondays from 9:00am to 3:00pm!
Since the extension can only run for 90 days post-application, you should submit your paperwork as late as possible during your stay, but not so late that the two week evaluation period causes you to overstay your current visa.
Your best bet to get this done at a “print shop”, like this one near the capital city. Don’t rely on finding one in some small town while you’re out and about.
Your income justification letter:
Here’s a template based on the letter I used. Add your company letterhead and address around it, to make it more official.
It’s good manners to ask your employer and then provide them with a pre-made template all ready for their signature, so it’s as easy for them as possible.
September 12, 2021
Directorate of Immigration,
Dalvegur 18, Kópavogur, Iceland
Re: Remote Work No Objection Letter
Dear Sir/Madam
This letter is in reference to ———-, who has been working at ——-, in ———– since October 2nd, 2017. Currently, he receives a salary of ———- per year.
As President and CIO of ——–, I am writing this letter to confirm that ——— has permission to work remotely while traveling through Iceland this year.
——— is paid enough to qualify for the remote work visa extension, and has additional funds set aside. Accompanying this letter you will find documents that support this.
If you need any further information, please feel free to contact me via phone or email detailed here.
Sincerely,
———–
President / CIO at ———-
(email address)
The results:
In my case, I submitted my paperwork on September 13th at the government office in Egilsstaðir. I got an email from aritanir@utl.is exactly two weeks later on the 27th, asking me when I could come in to their office to obtain my visa.
This was a pretty decent turnaround time for a government office. Unfortunately I had already boarded the ferry boat that would take me out of Iceland, and had no way of returning to the country to appear in person at the office in Reykjavík. I replied to the email asking if there was some way to transmit the paperwork to me electronically, but they did not respond.
So, does it work? Yes, I suppose so. Didn’t do me any good, unfortunately. Without any proof that I could stay longer in the Schengen area than the usual 90 days, I just stuck to my previous plan and flew home in October.
Today I woke up with a mission. I knew there was an official immigration building in the capital area, and I wanted to find it and scope it out. The chances of getting anything done without a long-in-advance appointment were almost none, but I felt like physically locating the place was important.
The building is called The Directorate Of Immigration, and it’s at Dalvegur 18, 201 Kópavogur, Iceland. Most of the time they’re open for just five hours a day, from 9:00am to 2:00pm, on weekdays.
But first, breakfast! I marched my bags down to the basement and snuck my bike out through the back door, then picked a bakery at random and scored me a cheese croissant, which I ate while wandering around.
Snacks for the snacking.
Even more snacks, waiting nearby in case you snack the first snacks and still want snacks.
Nice to see that delightful cathedral again, the Hallgrimskirkja. I didn’t think I’d be seeing it a second time in my life. This time I poked around inside.
Personally I think the place could do with some stained glass, but I’m a tasteless American.
I’ve never been a religious person, and I have some complaints about Christianity in particular, so I always feel a bit like an invader when I visit a place like this, as though other people might be able to see my lack of devotion just by reading my expression or posture.
This particular cathedral is also very open and illuminated, which makes me feel a bit vulnerable. Still quite marvelous, of course. But I wonder, how does this reflect on Icelanders? Do they enjoy the stark illumination because they feel relatively little shame or guilt? Does the confession booth get much use? (Actually, I didn’t even see one.) I know they certainly worry a lot, but that’s not the same thing…
Back on the street, one block down, I spotted another recumbent! No sign of the rider, though. I wanted to leave a little note, like “Hey nice bike!” but I didn’t have any paper, and besides it would have just creeped them out.
I set out for The Directorate of Immigration on a meandering path, snapping photos and listening to a podcast.
It turns out you can go through the entire visa application process by mail, and you only need to send one package, assuming it has all the correct paperwork inside. You can drop that package off directly at a government office, and there are several to choose from around Iceland. For example, there’s one on the East coast, just over the mountain from Seydisfjordur, called the Sýslumaðurinn á Austurlandi.
With this knowledge in hand, I decided I was going to prepare a visa extension application and submit it on the East coast, after crossing the country. That would give me the maximum time, since the extension can only be granted for the interval of time starting immediately after the application is sent.
From there I rode halfway back to Reykjavík and chomped lunch at a Vietnamese place. It wasn’t great, but it was great for Iceland. I debugged code on the laptop and read up on visa requirements. Then I rode to a nearby copy shop and confirmed they could print stuff from a USB stick. That would be important for putting the application together, which I wanted to do before leaving the capital area. I knew what Iceland was like and I didn’t want to have my plans derailed two months later because I couldn’t find a working printer anywhere for 100 miles.
I rode the rest of the way back to the AirBnB and then detoured to a fancy cafe around the corner. Their power sockets didn’t work, but I had a decent chunk of battery time. I attempted to fix an API error for work but made little progress. At the table to my left, three teenage girls were blathering in Icelandic, which sounded like cheerful gibberish to me with English phrases thrown in like, “Yo what the fuck?” and “Aaaanyway”. I had to suppress a grin once or twice.
Later on, at the table to my right, I listened to four girls with American accents, messing with sketchbooks and talking about how cool it is to be staying in Iceland, compared to being “back in the ‘States”. “There’s just something about this place,” one of them said, a bit breathlessly. “I can’t even define it, but I really like what it is.”
I wanted to turn in my seat and say: “That thing you sense but don’t know how to describe? That’s what we folks from Oakland would call ‘white privilege’. You are deeply submerged in it here, at the intersection of Christianity and shipping lanes, far from malaria, racial tension, parasites, and war. Enjoy the fact that – like me – you fit in here without question, despite not knowing a word of the native language.”
It would not have been a helpful thing to say, I know. Not the right context…
I rode back to the house and stowed the bike without trouble, by going through the back door. I’m learning fast! Straight to my room, and I set up my folding chair, and kept writing code until my work conference.
I also gathered my visa notes together into a useful summary. (As follows.)
