Reykjavík Grapevine - 10.08.2007, Blaðsíða 11

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cious Rockabilly The French Invasion part II A Brand Spanking New Gallery
Young Art in Hallgrímskirkja Reyfi Festival Hekla Dögg Interview Greenlight
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REYKJAVÍK_GRAPEVINE_INFO_ISSUE 1_007
(reyfi)
Ólöf Arnalds and many more
at Reyfi Art Festival.
B5
It was on a windy and rainy Friday
morning that our not-so-well-organ-
ised journey around the country, set
to find the best outdoor festival in
Iceland during the annual Verslunar-
mannahelgi, commenced. It did so
with the startling discovery that you
can’t rent a car without a credit card,
something which none of the travel
party was responsible enough to
own. After being pulled through by a
kind-hearted uncle, we set out on the
road in a silver grey Yaris, our sights
set for Ísafjörður, where we were to
witness the annual European Mud-
ball championship.
A full day of driving and 457 ki-
lometres later, we arrived at our des-
tination to find the town near empty.
It wasn’t until after midnight that
the town began to stir and the locals
started showing up at the pubs, apol-
ogetically explaining to us that they
had all been home, sewing their cos-
tumes for the tournament to come.
In the spirit of our mission, we then
took it upon ourselves to follow the
friendly folk from bar to bar, beer to
beer to, not trying to think of the 568
kilometres of Icelandic gravel that lay
ahead of us.
The following morning, it took
Mudball participants all of 30 sec-
onds to erase any difference between
their colourful, carefully constructed
uniforms and to become identically
dirt-brown. The weather was a classic
mix of cold wind and rain, leaving the
ground of the tournament like some-
thing of an after-war zone – complete
with dirty, shivering bodies wrapped
in blankets, teeth clattering, staring
empty eyed on the ongoing struggle
in the mud pits.
Arriving in Akureyri, we once again
found ourselves at a surprisingly de-
serted festival site. Turns out, festival
management had decided to ban
everyone under the age of 23 from
camping locally, a decision which
reportedly resulted in unorganised
teenage gatherings somewhere
outside of town. This, in turn, left
the streets of Akureyri somewhat
emptier than in previous years. Bel-
ligerent fun was still to be had, and
we managed to find some of it at a
local house party our keen reporting
sense led us to. There, a bunch of
party-game crazed Hafnarfjörður-
youth took us under their bottle.
Later that night we experienced
the now-“highly secure” Akureyri
downtown, where they use the in-
novative method of hosing people
out of bars after closing time. This
was still the most uninteresting ven-
ture of our trip.
The next day turned out to be the
most hectic driving experience any
of us had undergone, featuring 750
kilometres of road and 60+ cups of
coffee.
Siglufjörður was as sunny and
friendly as a place can be. In fact,
they may have taken it TOO far by
featuring a glittering rhinestone
cowboy singing about brotherly
love backed up by three seemingly
terrified children. That wasn’t really
called for. Following a brief encoun-
ter with the Icelandic National Team
of Drunks (they have T-shirts) and a
whole bunch of happy, sun-loving
teenagers, we headed for the road
again, somewhat sorry to leave the
utopian atmosphere of Siglufjörður
behind us.
The people of Neskaupstaður must
have gotten news of our impending
arrival, as those guys immediately
closed all shops, bars and cafés the
moment we got in town, leaving us
in a momentary state of panic. Walk-
ing through town on our way to the
local hoedown, we encountered
nothing but young kids, spaced out
on energy drinks, performing kami-
kaze stunts, generally going apeshit.
A lark, that was.
To our utmost satisfaction, the
venue had a bar. This came in handy,
as the ball was all but interesting,
featuring the freshly re-animated
corpse of Icelandic 90s band Tod-
mobile. While they kept the crowd
moving, we mostly chose to spend
our time outside in the “smoke
cage”, chatting up the locals. All in
all, it was a fun, disaster-free night,
which was something of a fortune
considering the amount of angry
looking, grudge-bearing men pres-
ent. Furthermore, we had a ball
watching a group of energy drink-
trippin’ youngsters giving the police
something to worry about by setting
things on fire. Yeah! Fire!
Text by Páll H. Björnsson and Hera Sigurðardóttir Photos by Gulli