ICELANDIC SWIMMING POOLS: WHY ICELANDERS GO THERE EVEN WHEN THEY DON’T WANT TO SWIM
At home, a business meeting usually happens over coffee, lunch or in a restaurant. In Iceland, you can have exactly the same conversation sitting in a hot tub. A public swimming pool here is not just a place to swim. It is something between a pub, a café, a spa and a living room. And once you understand why locals go there, you may find it surprisingly difficult to leave.
When we travel to Iceland, we have one unwritten rule: on every visit, we have to get into the water at least once.
Sometimes it is a municipal swimming pool, where we stop for a while among the locals. Other times it is a natural hot spring in the middle of the mountains. And sometimes we manage to visit several during a single trip.
Among our favourite places are Landmannalaugar, where you can bathe surrounded by colourful mountains and lava fields, and Gamla Laugin near Flúðir, also known to tourists as the Secret Lagoon. The history of bathing here goes back to the 19th century.
But the more often we return to Iceland, the more we realise that there is something special about bathing here.
It is not just about the water.
The “Icelandic pub” has hot water
For a Czech visitor, it is not easy to understand why an ordinary municipal swimming pool occupies such an important place in Icelandic life.
At home, people meet in a pub. They have a beer, order a coffee or go out for lunch.
In Iceland, they can do something similar – only instead of sitting on a chair, they sit in hot water.
The hot tubs are the heart of Icelandic swimming pools. You sit there, steam rising around you, and talk to people you may not know at all.
About the weather, work, politics or whatever is happening in town.
And, of course, about the fact that it is windy again.
Research by the University of Iceland has identified outdoor swimming pools as important places for social interaction. According to the research, hot tubs have become some of the most common spaces where people meet spontaneously.
So while a Czech person might say, “Let’s meet for a beer tonight,” an Icelander might say, “See you at the pool.”
A business meeting in swimwear?
It sounds like a joke, but this is where Icelandic pool culture begins to differ significantly from the Czech one.
The pool is not reserved simply for leisure. It is part of everyday life.
In the morning before work, in the afternoon after work, during a break or in the evening. People meet here naturally, without having to arrange anything in advance.
And they discuss things that we would probably take to a café or restaurant.
Business matters. Contacts. Politics. Local problems.
When UNESCO added Iceland’s swimming pool culture to its list of intangible cultural heritage, it described hot tubs as informal places for discussion. Their openness and accessibility help create spaces where people from different generations and social backgrounds meet.
An Icelandic swimming pool is therefore not just a sports facility.
It is a social space.
Social differences matter less here
Perhaps that is its greatest charm.
In everyday life, a person’s clothes, car, job or favourite lunch spot can reveal quite a lot about them. In the swimming pool, all of that is left in the changing room.
A child, a pensioner, a tradesman, a business owner or a politician may sit side by side. Everyone is wearing swimwear and everyone is sitting in the same hot water.
That is why conversations can be surprisingly informal.
There is no need to arrange a meeting.
You simply show up.
It is no coincidence that Icelandic politicians know that the swimming pool can be a good place to find out what people really think. Former Prime Minister Steingrímur Hermannsson once even told people that if they wanted to talk to him, they could find him every morning at his favourite swimming pool.
The Northern Lights, hot water and six Icelanders I had never met
There is one Icelandic swimming experience I will never forget.
It was years ago, sometime in September. I was camping alone in Landmannalaugar. The evening became very cold, and the campsite fell into the kind of silence that you rarely experience in the Icelandic highlands.
I got into the hot pool.
Above me, the sky was filled with the Northern Lights.
I sat in the hot water, surrounded by darkness, with green lights dancing overhead, and had the feeling that there was probably nowhere else I could possibly want to be.
Then people arrived.
First one man, then another, and then five more.
It turned out they were a group of sheep herders. The famous réttir, the traditional autumn round-up of sheep from Iceland’s mountains, was taking place.
Their group even had a large round tent reserved for them at the campsite.
As soon as they got into the water and noticed me, the questions began.
Where was I from?
What was I doing there alone?
How long had I been in Iceland?
And did I like Iceland?
There was nothing formal about it. We simply sat in the hot water and talked as if we had known each other for much longer.
After a while, they started getting out one by one and leaving. As we said goodbye, one of them looked at me and said:
“Gaman að sjá þig.”
It was the first Icelandic sentence I ever learned.
It can loosely be translated as “Nice to see you” or “It was good to see you.”
Then I had to leave too, which was probably the hardest moment of the entire evening, because once you are in the hot water at Landmannalaugar, you never want to get out.
This time, however, it had also started snowing and the wind was picking up outside.
And anyone who knows Landmannalaugar knows that there are no changing rooms next to the pool.
No heated room, no warm shower – just hot water, cold wind, snow and a tent somewhere in the campsite.
So I took one last dip beneath the Northern Lights, sat in the hot water for a little longer and finally forced myself to get out.
It was probably then that I first understood that Icelandic bathing is not just about bathing.
It is a place where people meet.
And sometimes you can arrive alone and leave with several new Icelandic friends.
More than 120 swimming pools – and locals really use them
When people hear about swimming in Iceland, most tourists think of the Blue Lagoon.
But from the perspective of everyday Icelandic life, it is a somewhat different world.
There are more than 120 public swimming pools across the country, used mainly by locals.
And these are certainly not places people visit only occasionally.
According to a 2023 survey, 79 percent of Icelandic adults had visited a public swimming pool at least once, while around 40 percent went regularly.
That is no longer just a hobby.
It is part of everyday life.
A swimming pool for just a few euros
When we stayed in Reykjavík on Sundlaugavegur, Laugardalslaug was practically on our doorstep.
And there is another thing that quickly surprises you: the price.
A day entry costs the equivalent of just a few dozen Czech crowns. And this is no small local pool. Laugardalslaug is one of the largest and best-known public swimming pools in Reykjavík, and you can spend the whole day there.
There is a large outdoor pool, several hot tubs at different temperatures, cold water, steam and even a water slide.
For the price you might sometimes barely pay for parking at home, you can spend hours in warm water, switch between different temperatures, swim, use the sauna or steam room and even go down the water slide.
And most importantly, you do not have to be a tourist who has come to enjoy the attractions.
Locals are here.
Children, pensioners, people coming after work and people who have simply come to sit in hot water for a while and have a chat.
This is where you really understand why an Icelandic swimming pool is something very different from an ordinary public pool.
First comes the embarrassment. Then you never want to leave
For a visitor from the Czech Republic, Icelandic swimming pools have another obstacle.
Embarrassment.
Before getting into the water, you have to shower properly, and in Icelandic swimming pools it is customary to shower without a swimsuit. For someone who is not used to it, the first visit can feel a little uncomfortable.
Then comes another problem.
Icelandic weather: cold, wind, rain and sometimes snow.
But once you get through those few unpleasant metres between the changing room and the water, everything suddenly changes.
Steam rises from the hot water. Your body begins to warm up beautifully and gradually relax.
It may be miserable outside, but you feel wonderful.
And what if the water becomes too hot?
You simply move somewhere else.
Some pools have several hot tubs at different temperatures. You can move to cooler water or even into a cold or ice-cold pool.
And then go back again.
The temperature contrast is surprisingly addictive. After cooling down, the hot water suddenly feels much hotter. For the first few seconds, it can even sting.
Then your body settles back into the warmth and another wave of pleasant relaxation takes over.
For me, the ideal temperature is around 38°C.
At 41°C, I am already reaching my limit. Water at 48°C or anything above 50°C is simply too much for me.
My friend Honza sees things differently, though. He actually seemed quite happy sitting in water at 50°C.
When he finally got out, he was as red as a lobster.
Leaving Gamla Laugin? We tried three times
During our last visit to Gamla Laugin, we had already decided it was time to leave.
Dry off, get dressed, get back in the car and continue our journey.
But after a while, we went back into the hot water.
One more time.
Then again.
And finally a third time.
So, in the end, we left three times before we actually managed to leave.
That is the magic of Icelandic hot water. You tell yourself you really have to go, but your body disagrees.
Just five more minutes.
And then another five.
Why are Icelanders so connected to the water?
There is more behind Iceland’s swimming pool culture than simply a love of hot water.
It also has a very practical origin.
At the beginning of the 20th century, only a small proportion of Icelanders knew how to swim. Yet people lived in close contact with the sea, and working on fishing boats was an everyday reality for many families.
Swimming pools were therefore not simply places for relaxation. They were also intended to teach people how to swim and help reduce the number of tragic accidents at sea.
Swimming lessons later became part of compulsory education.
A practical necessity gradually became a tradition.
And that tradition eventually developed into a social ritual.
And then there are places where you don’t need a pool at all
Iceland, of course, has another kind of bathing.
The kind we perhaps love even more.
Hot water right in the landscape.
At Landmannalaugar, there is no luxury spa around you. Just mountains, lava fields, steam and the Icelandic landscape.
You slip into the warm water and suddenly find yourself surrounded by a world that seems almost unreal.
Gamla Laugin is different. More developed, more comfortable, but still with the feeling that beneath you is the same geothermal force that creates so many of Iceland’s characteristic landscapes.
And that is what we love about bathing in Iceland.
It does not have to be luxurious.
It does not have to be expensive.
Sometimes all you need is hot water and a healthy dose of Icelandic weather.
Icelandic swimming pools as a way of life
We have visited Iceland several times, and every time we return to the water.
Sometimes it is just a short stop after a full day of travelling. Other times we spend an hour or two in the pool.
And every time, we find ourselves thinking that we could use something like this at home.
Not because of the swimming.
Because you stop for a while.
You put your phone away.
You sit next to someone you may never have met before.
And you start talking.
Maybe about the weather. Maybe about work. Maybe about politics.
Or simply about how pleasant the water feels.
An Icelandic swimming pool is something between a pub, a café, a spa and a living room.
Only instead of a chair, you have hot water.
And instead of a beer, perhaps 38 degrees.
About the Author
Iceland has fascinated me for many years. Over the course of numerous journeys across the island, I have driven tens of thousands of kilometers, experienced storms that changed travel plans within minutes, and witnessed days when choosing the right route meant discovering places that most visitors never see. I documented many of these experiences in my documentary film Island in the North.
Through this website, I share practical travel advice, up-to-date information, and firsthand experiences from the field to help others explore Iceland more safely and gain a deeper understanding of its unique landscapes and ever-changing nature.
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