The Many-Splendored Joys Of A Trip To ÚTL

The couches give way till you can feel the lumps underneath. The long queues are managed by a workforce too few in number and silently weeping. You’ve gotten to relax here for a few hours now. You love it here. You can really see yourself returning every now and then. The immigration office is simply divine.

Hey everyone, Charlie here, letting you in on the hottest destination to visit while in Iceland: the Directorate of Immigration (ÚTL). Many would agree that stopping by this exotic locale is part of the necessary Icelandic experience — one that you shouldn’t miss out on (legally speaking). Every year, hundreds upon hundreds of people — myself included — flock to this hot spot to experience its many wonders. So, as if you’re not already pumped, let’s list the highlights.

First things first, let’s talk location. The immigration office is ideally situated in a highly accessible spot just one hour by bus (two transfers!) from downtown Reykjavík. But, I much prefer to hike the two and a half hours it takes to get there. The location is wonderfully niche, in Iceland’s second biggest city. Yes, you read that correctly: the Immigration office isn’t even in the capital; it’s in Kópavogur. And why wouldn’t it be?

Sure, it used to be in Reykjavík where most bureaucratic stuff is located, but sharing a building with the police headquarters for Kóavogur and Breiðholt is far more in line with government messaging around immigration, which is clearly that cops can be immigrants too! Inclusion!

ÚTL also offers a wide range of services. I’m oft riddled with jealousy since, as I’m from the U.K., I don’t have access to some of the more luxury services afforded to other non-EU citizens. Some of them get to give blood, urine and stool samples to the immigration office and even have X-rays taken. God knows why they won’t take my blood — I keep leaving it in buckets outside, but they just won’t accept it.

“God knows why they won’t take my blood — I keep leaving it in buckets outside, but they just won’t accept it.”

I do, however, get to sit for a residence card photo shoot every single year. The two full minutes it takes to snap a headshot is totally worth the two-months spent on the waiting list to get a headshot appointment. Shoot me.

The process is even better if you’re a new immigrant or a student, erasmus or otherwise. Then you get to experience the wonderful limbo hellscape wherein your right to exist in the country is still being determined and they haven’t given you a Kennitala — it is an amazing place to be! As a reminder, everything from medical appointments, to banking services, gym memberships, to signing up for your university classes hinge on that all important Kennitala. It’s basically your true name; without it, you are lost.

If you are lost, you might be tempted to check ÚTL’s website for answers, but the information there isn’t truly legally binding, and also is often strangely worded and confusing. (Don’t mention that to ÚTL, though — they’re very sensitive about it.) But to be fair, I have been to countries with far worse websites.

Those venturing to Iceland’s hottest bureaucratic destination for the first time would do well to heed this veteran traveller tip: ÚTL closes even earlier than you’d expect for a government office and Friday business hours are a literal blink-and-you’ll-miss-it affair. It keeps things exciting, invigorating even.

ÚTL isn’t only a destination for the solo traveller, it’s the ideal place to bring a friend — preferably a born and bred Icelandic friend, whose presence in person or on the phone magically makes everything operate smoother, while decreasing sass and mysteriously disconnected phone lines exponentially. That can’t come down to xenophobia, can it? Bureaucratic organisations like the Directorate of Immigration are there to help immigrants… right?

Read more of Charlie’s musings here.