The handsome, looming monstrosity of Mount Esja emerges from the sea, and sits, keeping watch over Reykjavík. It is a very good mountain to admire from afar, like a secret crush whose house you just “happen” to drive by. Then comes the actual first experience, in person (yes, in person!) of talking to the crush: the sweaty palms, the avoidance of eye contact, the dry mouth, all the usual signs of studied familiarity, yet unknowing expectancy.