Reykjavík Grapevine - 11.01.2008, Síða 8

08 | Reykjavík Grapevine | Issue 01 2008 | Opinion
One) Re-designing 101 Reykjavík is dumb:
Tearing down old houses on Laugarvegur, some of
which have great historical significance, others that
have gained status as bona fide cultural institutions
in latter years, to make way for a downtown shop-
ping mall is dumb. And shortsighted.
Not only is it dumb for the very obvious rea-
son that some of the places earmarked for destruc-
tion by city planners have become veritable tourist
attractions and landmarks in their own right, con-
tributing greatly to the “vibrant downtown atmo-
sphere and music life” that many Grapevine read-
ers cite as their main reason for visiting Iceland in
the first place.
They are tearing down Grand Rokk. And
Sirkús. Not that I am the biggest fan of either of
those establishments (actually, I’ve probably spent
more time unsuccessfully trying to gain entry to
Sirkús than actually inside of it, and Grand Rokk’s
drunken patrons frighten me). But still. Sirkús often
employed bouncers for the sole reason of keeping
the frightened-by-the-price-of-alcohol-but-still-keen-
to-observe-and-thus-take-up-space tourists out.
More often than not, those bouncers were veteran
frightened-by-the-price-of-beer tourists that had
settled and pushed through the glass ceiling.
It is also dumb because we already have at
least two fully functioning enormo-malls in the
greater Reykjavík area, that are well befitted for
serving all average mall goers shopping needs.
And it is dumb because 101 Reykjavík’s at-
traction now lies mainly in its coffeehouses, bars,
galleries and concert venues – its nightlife. Laugav-
egur abandoned its post as Reykjavík’s shopping
street sometime in the mid-eighties, when they
opened Kringlan. And that is fine.
And it is dumb because one of the main
arguments for tearing down those historical land-
marks is how ugly they’ve grown in the past decade.
Am I just being silly, or wouldn’t it be a good idea,
say, if I were a real estate developer, to let a build-
ing I owned grot down and slum-ify if I desperately
wanted to level it so I could build a high-price
mega-mall on the lot?
And it is dumb because Laugavegur seems to be
working fine as is.
Two) Don’t listen to anything those evil fucks
on the Internet try and tell you:
Back in the utopian times of 2003, people who had
opinions that they wished to share with their fellow
citizens actually had to bother expressing them on
paper, purchasing stamps and sending them off to
a newspaper, where they would be approved of (or
not), proofread and typeset. It is likely that anyone
who bothers going through with this whole proce-
dure will have also bothered to actually form their
opinion in a thoughtful manner, and formulating it
to an understandable degree, too.
Of course, all opinions are valid as such. But
not all statements are opinions, and that is impor-
tant to remember. The advent of one-click publish-
ing has, for the most part, killed off any inkling of
belief in democracy and public discourse I once
held.
There are countless examples of this from
the Icelandic blogosphere of 2007. The case of
the disappearing re-appearing dog, Lúkas, for one.
Every discussion on feminism made on-line in
the Icelandic language. Also every discussion on
religion. And music. And pretty much anything
weightier than Britney Spears exiting a car with her
gaping vagina on display (the internet is an excel-
lent place for that).
So, if anyone from the internet reads this,
please pay attention: YOUR THOUGHTS AS THEY
APPEAR IN YOUR MIND AT A GIVEN MOMENT
AREN’T NECCESSARILY OPINIONS; MOST LIKELY,
THEY ARE REACTIONS. PLEASE TAKE THE TIME
TO ARRANGE THOSE REACTIONS IN ORDER, AND
TO VERIFY THEM AGAINST A LIST OF FACTS THAT
ARE EVIDENTLY TRUE (cogito ergo sum). Please.
Three) Banning smoking in bars was a really
shitty idea:
I’ve generally clung to the opinion that anyone
who chooses to spend their spare time drinking
in bars isn’t really concerned about their personal
welfare.
Furthermore, not being libertarian or any-
thing, I’ve still managed to believe that if there was
a market for non-smoking bars and cafés, someone
would see fit to open these, and those drinkers
that were sick of having to take showers and burn
their clothes once they got home from a night out
at a smoky bar would see fit to attend those. And
they would flourish and prosper, just like all those
pre-smoking ban polls showed. How does this not
make sense?
Since it apparently doesn’t, I would now like
to call for a ban on drinking in bars and cafés.
The smell of alcohol and stale beer is generally
unpleasant. Drunk people really annoy me when I
am trying to have sober fun at a bar; they are loud,
rude and rowdy. Many of them harbour the absurd
pastime of beating random strangers to a pulp. And,
sometimes, people die from those beatings.
In conclusion, I would like to be able to go
out to the bar without being exposed to drunken
people. We could make an example out of the
forthcoming downtown shopping mall’s bar.
Four) At the core, all cities are essentially larg-
er versions of my hometown, Ísafjörður:
2007 saw me visit Amsterdam, Rotterdam, Brussels,
Cologne, Paris, New York, London, Oslo, Copenha-
gen, Manchester, Cannes and Austin, Texas, among
others. They are all the same, really (although some
of them have awfully modernised, ghost-town like
city centres while others feature thriving, culturally
significant, historical ones). Oh, some of them will
have more video stores than others, and of course
climates will differ, but at the core, they are all di-
vided into the same neighbourhoods, and their in-
habitants foster the same hopes, dreams and fears.
Not to say that Western culture is growing increas-
ingly homogenous (which I am sure it is), rather
that people all over are generally good, helpful and
hopeful.
Especially those without blogs.
And that was a nice discovery.
I had never seen anything like it in my life. There
was so much smoke everywhere it was hard to
breathe and my eyes were watery. My hair was
a little burnt from ash that had fallen on it and
lights were bursting and flashing everywhere I
looked. It may sound like I was in the middle of
some chaotic disorder and I was. New Year’s Eve
in Reykjavík was upon me and the pyrotechnics
war had started. I walked like a drunk, zigzagging
and swerving in attempts to avoid children aiming
firecrackers straight at me, straight at everybody.
I am used to fireworks being at the hands of the
city council and not at the will of the population.
Seeing all those tykes and champagne-wielding
adults firing off made me nervous, although I have
to say it was nice to see that everybody got to par-
ticipate in lighting up the midnight sky and that it
wasn’t just an officially organised affair.
The type of New Year’s celebration I am
used to has quite a pathetic showing of fireworks
that is aimed at tourists rather than locals. I come
from a small, immensely beautiful island in the
Caribbean: Puerto Rico. Our tradition there is to
spend the hours up until midnight with the fam-
ily, so people tend to be inside when the clock
strikes twelve. The explosives display (I can’t even
remember the last time I saw it) is conducted from
Old San Juan: a relic of the past with faded blue
cobblestones and Spanish architecture adorned
with bold colours. However, very few Puerto Ri-
cans will be walking around the old city to enjoy
the few sparks visible in the sky. It is mainly a dis-
play to satisfy the sun burnt, Hawaiian-shirt-wear-
ing tourists.
Sadly for the people back home, it is illegal
for individuals to buy or use fireworks, so people
miss out on all the fun that Icelanders are entitled
to. To make matters worse, with sparklers prohib-
ited, an odd tradition has developed since some
intellectually challenged individuals decided that
firing bullets into the sky would be a great replace-
ment for firecrackers, ignoring Newton’s law of
gravity that what goes up must eventually come
down. This year, the government had to spend
money running campaigns titled: “Not one more
bullet into the air!” in order to curtail this crazy
twenty-first-century ritual.
The morning after my first Icelandic New
Year’s Eve, I inspect my coat for burns and won-
der how the hell nobody gets injured in all this
mayhem. Then I think of last New Year’s Eve and
I am reminded that I prefer a four-year-old with a
firecracker to bullets flying across the sky. I come
to the conclusion that people just want to feel in
control of their lives and the actions they take.
People on my island want to experience the start
of the New Year literally and figuratively in their
own hands. When simple freedoms such as this
are constrained, people revolt and find other ways
to express themselves.
There was a comparable situation in Reykja-
vik before 1999 when bars were required to close
at three in the morning. Partygoers were forced to
leave the bars amidst their merriment. However,
the bartender’s last call did not stop people from
spilling onto the streets where rowdy crowds of
thousands would gather to continue their party-
ing. This became too bothersome a burden for
the police to handle and the drinking laws were
relaxed allowing for later closing times. Similarly,
before 1989 the beer prohibition did not prevent
people from getting intoxicated. Instead Iceland-
ers drank Bjórliki, a non-alcoholic beer named
from the Icelandic word bjór meaning beer and
liki meaning imitation, laced with large shots of
whiskey or vodka. If the government decides to
behave like an overzealous parent and tell its citi-
zens not to behave in a certain way that endangers
no one, the independent and proud child will do
exactly what they are told not to do, or worse. As a
matter of principle people should be responsible
for themselves and behave the way they wish as
long as it does not interfere with the safety of oth-
ers.
The extravagant 360-degree fireworks dis-
play I experienced here and the whimsical smiles
of those taking part in the grand spectacle in-
spired me. Now that I know what to expect, I will
be prepared for next year with my own arsenal of
fireworks so that I can contribute to the carnival
atmosphere instead of just being a spectator. So
if you happen to find yourself annoyed at the fire-
works damage suffered by your newly acquired
vintage dress, simply laugh about it and remem-
ber that at least you have the freedom to enjoy
2008 behaving as wildly or primly as you please.

Four Random Conclusions for 2007
Freedom in Pyrotechnics
Alexandra Hertell is professional musician from
Puerto Rico. She now resides in Reykjavík.
Haukur Magnússon is a contributing writer for the
Reykjavík Grapevine. He lives with eight cats.