Reykjavík Grapevine - 27.06.2003, Page 8

C O L U M N S
- the reykjavík grapevine -8 june 27th - july 10th, 2003 - the reykjavík grapevine - 9june 27th - july 10th, 2003
GIVE AND TAKE
TRAFFIC
It’s that time of year again in Iceland.
Hundreds of statistics-obsessed
nerds have spent long hours in deep
windowless bunkers compiling and
tabulated estimating and hypotising.
Now finally all the Is have been dotted,
all the figures counted and recounted.
At last they are ready to enlighten the
nation. We, the general public, have
been waiting with baited breath for
information that may change the very
pattern of our lives.
Now you may tempted to ask what
in the name of Jesus, Mary, Joseph
and Pat is this punch-drunk hack
waffling on about?. Well if, like me, you
are a sad bastard with nothing better
to do you can take yourself down to
the central statistics office, there is
dazzling array of fact and figures for
the year available for the asking - and
fascinating reading it makes too. Did
you know that Icelanders consumed
fourteen million six-hundred and fifty-
seven pizzas last year, spent three
million four-hundred and sixty-seven
thousand dollars on pet food and
made love a total of six hundred and
seventy thousand times in one short
year? Ok, I made the last one up but
you get the idea, Statistics from the
price of fish to the size of underwear
and everything in between. Some of
the stuff is thoroughly mind numbing
and one would have thought irrelevant,
but there are a few gems that reveal a
lot about the Icelandic mentality
For example
the grunts came
up with a truly
bizarre figure
that suggest
that there are
more cars in
Iceland than
driving licences.
On first reading
it does not
sound that odd.
But think
about it. There
are currently
around 159,000
r e g i s t e r e d
vehicles but
only 152,500
l i c e n c e s .
Subtract from that the significant
number of people in any country who
are licenced, but for various reasons,
economic or otherwise, do not own
a car. The end result is a staggering
proportion of people who own a
second vehicle. Not for their wives or
husbands, but for themselves. Perhaps
there are some amongst us with more
money than sense, who like a different
coloured model for each day of the
week. Maybe they are following the
lead of the Arab nation’s oil sheiks. It
is said that when these mindbogglingly
wealthy men are driving in their stretch
limos through the desert, sometimes
the vehicle becomes plugged in the
sand. Instead of arranging a rescue,
they merely transfer to their waiting
spare model and carry on, abandoning
their 100,000 dollar car to its fate.
Come to think of it, I have on occasion
seen cars abandoned in the snow at
the side of the road. Perhaps that is
where they remain. For anyone who
has lived here for any length of time
this statistic is not all that surprising.
Icelanders are a people thoroughly in
love with their cars. The idea that you
don’t or would not want to own a car is
a totally alien one.
I have to say that I am one of those
people who firmly believes in the old
adage that there are lies, damn lies
and then there are statistics. If you
manipulate and massage the numbers
you can make them say just about
whatever you want.
But sometimes they really do hit
the bullseye.
John Boyce
I’ve been going to my Chinese
doctor for a while now and I must
admit that I was beginning to
wonder if she remembered me. I
put it down, foolishly, to the China
thing, so many people coming and
going in a busy practice and so
on… More fool me.
So why does she remember me
now? Well, I’ve always gone with a
stomach problem, back tension, that
kind of thing, but the time before last
was a different story. She only speaks
Chinese and so I explained to her
translator that I would like her to treat
me for a broken heart.
Now my doctor’s always been
perfunctory, brusque in fact, but
this time I caught a look when the
translator had siphoned my ailment.
It was a momentary expression that
crossed her face and transferred when
she met my eyes, a look of feeling for
me, gone as quick as it came and the
perfunctory took over again.
Before I knew it she had me stripped
naked (a first) and had more needles
in me than a porcupine, busily setting
things right in her cruelly-kind way.
She set something else straight in
me. People have always commented
that the Icelanders are standoffish in
their weekday life outside of the pub.
Some of my friends have commented
at the exceptionally deadpan way in
which their transactions have gone in
Iceland, but now I’m clearer about how
warmth really works, or should work at
least. It’s a bit like that childhood game
“You Show Me Yours And I’ll Show You
Mine”. What do we expect? To reveal
nothing of ourselves but get a big
psychological hug in return?
The truth is we expect people to be
nice because we’re doing business
with them, which is a good enough
reason in our service-orientated world,
but wouldn’t it be better put that we
expect people to pretend to be nice?
After all, they don’t know us from Adam
and the colour of our credit card can’t
change that.
I can speak up for the Icelanders, in
fact I’d like to. I’m not just talking about
my friends - the people that have easily
earned the right to poke me in the eye
without expecting a punch on the nose
as their reward - although they spring
quickest to mind. Straight after them
come people like the midwife who
crossed the main street when I was
ready to pop my son, kind of squatted,
looked me in the eye (most Icelanders
need to squat to do that) and said, “Be
Strong”. Then there’s the cab drivers
who engage me in conversation, not
for the comedy value of listening to my
flawed Icelandic, but because they are
genuinely proud that I have bothered to
learn their tongue. The list goes on…
First impressions are as futile
as they’re cracked up to be. The
Icelanders have big hearts. They don’t
come from a society permeated by a
typically urban “f u” attitude spliced by
disingenuous waffle. They won’t say
“How are you?” in a store if they have
no interest in knowing and their small
talk’s, well, small. It may not make for
the smoothest service industry the
world has known, but let’s face it, there
are more important things than good
service, and if you don’t think so, I’ll
give you my doctor’s number.
Jennifer McCormack
Shopping in Iceland. Grumpy clerks not pictured.
Icelanders place great emphasis on driving the latest cars.
The end result is a staggering proportion
of people who own a second vehicle.
Not for their wives or husbands, but for
themselves.
Photo: Aldís