Chasing Horizons: A Filipino Couple's Stylish Journey Through Love and Life in Iceland

Words by Donna Avellana-Künzler

Photos courtesy of William Reynera

There’s a particular kind of courage that looks quiet from the outside. It does not announce itself with drama. It boards a plane with two suitcases, a shared Google calendar, and the understanding.

It arrived casually — a remark at a party, an application submitted almost experimentally. Six months later, Ben Arellano had a position at Landspítali Hospital. In 2018, he relocated to Reykjavík. A year later, William Reynera followed, enrolling at the University of Iceland before stepping into his current role at Steypustöðin, where he works within the technical department, coordinating production design and contributing to sustainability reporting through environmental product declarations. It is precise, future-facing work — the kind that aligns with Iceland’s ecological ethos.

“Iceland did not change our dreams,” Will says. “It simply gave us the space to live them more naturally.”

Designing a Life in the Land of Extremes

Their Iceland is not just glaciers and postcards. It is snowfall caught in eyelashes, wind that demands good outerwear, and long winter drives where silence becomes a form of intimacy.

In one photograph, they stand beneath the Northern Lights — green ribbons of sky curving above them like a private cathedral. In another, they lean against a ferry railing under the Icelandic flag, faces turned toward each other in conversation that feels suspended between continents. There are playful winter selfies, summer swims in turquoise water elsewhere in Europe, beach huts painted in stripes, New York skylines, and a framed illustration at home that reads: In this life. Together.

The images tell a story of movement — from snow-covered benches to Mediterranean seas — but the real narrative is in the stillness between them.

“Ben tends to process things quietly,” Will says. “I can be more intense. Long drives into the countryside have become our space to meet in the middle.”

The car becomes confessional, therapist, strategy room.

Work, Rhythm, and Reinvention

Ben’s life at Landspítali is structured and steady — shifts measured in responsibility and care. Nursing requires composure, especially in a country where language and culture demand constant adaptation. Outside the hospital, he prefers simplicity: time with close friends, quiet evenings, small gatherings anchored in familiarity.

Will’s days are technical, analytical — sustainability metrics, coordination systems — but his nights can look very different. Under the name @derek.d.dj, he moves through Iceland’s music scene, spinning house, techno, and pop. Whatbegan as personal outlet became connective tissue.

“DJing opened easy, natural ways to meet people,” he explains. “Winter gave me time to experiment, to branch into different genres.”

In Iceland, where darkness stretches long and social circles form slowly, music became currency — not transactional, but communal. Ben is always there. Observant. Supportive. The quiet critic whose nod means everything.

Their relationship balances these contrasts: nightlife and nesting, intensity and steadiness, ambition and grounding.

“Iceland did not change our dreams; it gave us the space to live them more naturally.”

“Love, like architecture, is something you build deliberately.”

Foreignness and Belonging

Iceland is broadly accepting, but being Filipino and being a same-sex couple adds layers to belonging.

“There are moments of prejudice,” Will acknowledges. “And a lingering sense of being outsiders.”

The response has not been defiance, but consistency. Learn the language. Show up. Host dinners. Cook adobo and pancit. Create warmth in a climate that can feel emotionally reserved.

“Food is our native language,” he says. “Inviting people into our home became the easiest way to build connection.”

Filipino hospitality translates beautifully into Nordic minimalism. A long table. Soft light. Unhurried conversation. The merging of islands — literal and metaphorical.

Seasons as Teachers

Before Iceland, outdoor life felt constant. In Reykjavík, it is intentional. Summer brings endless light, an almost ecstaticdisorientation. Winter brings darkness that is oddly productive — introspective, creative.

“I’ve grown to appreciate the long nights,” Will admits, a nod perhaps to both architecture school discipline and DJ experimentation.

They have learned to read seasons not as obstacles but as design constraints. Limitations shape creativity. Cold sharpens gratitude. Light feels earned.

The Trade-Off

They left behind family in Zamboanga and Buguey. They left Sunday rituals and spontaneous visits. That loss is real.

But Iceland has offered other currencies: stability, fairness, the ability to be openly themselves.

A life where partnership is not hidden but lived.

The magic is rarely cinematic. It is in small scenes like stopping at a tiny café after a drive or laughing at the recurring question, “Could we live in the countryside?” always answered with a mutual, honest “No.”

And even tanding beneath auroras, aware of how improbable the journey has been. They are not chasing horizons to escape the Philippines. They are chasing alignment — between who they are privately and how they live publicly.

Advice to Other Filipino Couples Abroad

“Give yourselves time,” they say. “Allow your dreams to evolve.”

Building a life abroad is rarely linear. It is layered — work permits and winter boots, Spotify playlists and sustainability reports, hospital shifts and DJ decks, pancit on Scandinavian plates.

Will and Ben have not reinvented themselves completely. They have refined what already existed: ambition tempered by care, style balanced by substance, independence softened by partnership.

The framed illustration in their home — two figures beneath the Icelandic flag — captures it best.

In this life. Together.

And in every climate, that remains the design principle.

“Give yourselves time. Allow your dreams to evolve.”