On a frigid winter morning in Reykjavik, Iceland, a small group of early risers gathered at the Vesturbaejarlaug public pool, braving temperatures near minus 11 degrees Celsius (12 degrees Fahrenheit). Despite the cold, about 20 Icelanders dressed in bathing suits performed exercises on the outdoor deck, while others enjoyed the warmth of steaming hot tubs. The scene, largely free of tourists, reflects a longstanding local tradition centered around the country’s network of roughly 150 public pools.

These pools, built primarily with geothermal heating and open year-round, originated as part of a public safety response decades ago after numerous fishermen drowned nearshore due to a lack of swimming skills among the population. Today, they serve as vital communal spaces where Icelanders of all ages meet to socialize, relax, and swim. Swimming lessons are mandatory for children, underscoring the cultural emphasis on water safety and wellness. For many residents, the pools act as an informal “third space,” akin to Finland’s saunas or British pubs, providing affordable social hubs amid Iceland’s long, dark winters.

However, the pools’ traditionally low profile is seeing change following UNESCO’s recent designation of Icelandic pool culture as “intangible cultural heritage.” This recognition, announced late last year, places the country’s bathing traditions alongside globally celebrated cultural practices. While the listing is intended to honor and safeguard the custom, it has sparked concerns among local pool-goers about the potential influx of tourists disrupting the intimate and familiar atmosphere.

Iceland has experienced a surge in tourism in recent years, reaching nearly two million visitors annually before the COVID-19 pandemic. Many tourists are drawn to the country’s natural wonders and geothermal lagoons, which offer more upscale amenities and photogenic settings than the public pools. Yet some regulars worry that UNESCO’s recognition may encourage more tourists to visit the city pools, potentially altering their character and creating overcrowding.

“It’s too much,” said Unnur B. Handsdottir, a longtime Vesturbaejarlaug swimmer. Others, like Ragna Thorhallsdottir, expressed a desire to preserve the pools as spaces primarily for Icelanders. Beyond crowding, some locals are also concerned about hygiene standards. Icelandic swimming culture requires visitors to shower thoroughly and naked before entering the pools, a practice strictly enforced for health reasons given the pools’ minimal chlorination. Photographers and longtime pool users have voiced apprehension about foreign visitors possibly not adhering to these rules, especially as more tourists come.

The distinction between the modestly priced public pools—typically costing around $10 per visit and often free for children and seniors—and the luxurious lagoons like the Blue Lagoon, where entry fees can reach $150 or more, remains significant. Pools generally prohibit phones and emphasize community and cleanliness, while lagoons offer amenities such as swim-up bars and a more relaxed attitude toward rules.

UNESCO officials acknowledged that designating a practice as intangible cultural heritage can increase its visibility, sometimes bringing unintended challenges. For Iceland, the balance between celebrating their unique pool culture and managing tourism impact remains a pressing concern as the nation navigates maintaining an everyday communal ritual amid growing global interest.