Reykjavík Grapevine - 31.07.2009, Síða 39

him repeatedly. After quite a while of this
foul game the local police chief, who had
been watching the whole mess, shouted
over to the leader: “My dear, haven’t you
had enough? Shan’t we move over to
some other business?” Talk about syn-
ergy in these small towns! When a local
guy dressed in a lady’s dress with a wres-
tling mask on tried to make me touch is
fur-surrounded pecker, I decided it was
time to hit the hay.
FOUNDING OF MOLABOLA
The day after, all the workshops revealed
what they’d accomplish over the week.
As soon as people had their fill, most of
the crowd moved over to the small island
in the fjord, where the fashion designer
Mundi and artist and fire-horse Snorri
Ásmundsson had established a new free-
spirited state called Molabola. The trans-
portation option was only one and a rath-
er iffy one at that; people dragged them
self over on a tiny raft with a small rope
that had been strung between the island
and the dock. People were bound to fall
in. The founding ceremony consisted of
people renouncing their citizenship and
being baptized again as citizens of Mo-
labola. Later on, there was a big party.
Back at the concert venue, tonight’s
show was about to go off. Skakkaman-
age, Jagúar and many more were meant
to play. I saw a few good pieces by the
aforementioned acts, but after going out
for a smoke before Gusgus, the doormen
took the strange decision of locking the
house, even though the final band hadn’t
even begun. Yes, us smokers weren’t
meant to see the headliners.
There was little to do but take the trag-
edy with a stoic calm, but it was stupid
and pissed of a lot of people. And so we
went back to the state of Molabola, where
such fascist spur of the moment rulings
are rare. After having witnessed what
looked like a 13-year old bolt down a litre
of moonshine and smoke a joint down
to the roach, strident groupies begging
a former member of XXX Rottweiler to
rap his signature song and some people
being scared off the island by its king,
a Chihuahua called Wolf, I decided to
leave the scene.
As I dragged the raft over with some
other unfortunates, the worst thing
imaginable happened. You guessed
it: we all fell in. In retrospect, no other
event could have as fittingly crowned my
unique week in the culture town of Seyð-
isfjörður. And although wet, smelly and
drunk – I stepped on to the bus on my
way home with a smirk on my face.
27
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 11 — 2009
Destinations | Waterfalls
Fly and discover
Action-packed day tours 2009
www.airiceland.is
websales@airiceland.is / tel. +354 570 3030
Air Iceland is your West Nordic airline, a customer-driven service
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Air Iceland offers a variety of day tour packages, in Iceland
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2 or 5 hour Evening Tour
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Seljalandsfoss. That waterfall. As far as
natural phenomena go, it’s pretty great,
and it is definitely deserving of its status
as one of Iceland’s premier tourist attrac-
tions. If you are a tourist, you should go
see it. It’s beautiful, it’s close to Reykjavík,
it lies in the path of many other interesting
things to experience: other waterfalls, the
Hvolsvöllur Saga Museum (with its excel-
lent Co-op museum, Njála museum, etc.);
it’s on the way to Vík í Mýrdal. And you’ll
want to go to Vík anyway.
To get there from Reykjavík, you sim-
ply drive (or hitchhike) down Miklabraut
until you reach the off-ramp marked
Vík. Turn there. Then drive that way, past
Hveragerði, past Selfoss, keep looking
left: you’ll eventually see it. Get out of your
car. Walk up to it. Marvel at nature’s won-
der. Think about why we bother building
all that boring, ugly stuff we build. Walk up
the path, go behind the waterfall. Revel in
the spraying water. Affirm life, once again.
Feels good, don’t it?
SIGURðUR kjARTAN kRISTINSSON
VALDÍS THOR
HAUkUR S MAGNúSSON
jULIA STAPLES
Seljalandsfoss
Go There: It’s Awesome.