Reykjavík Grapevine - 25.09.2009, Síða 8

8
The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 15 — 2009
Now, like I already told
you, I grew up in a village
and thus I mastered,
subconsciously, the skill and
effectiveness of banal small-talk.
After eighteen years in a fjord, I
moved to the city of Reykjavík. Fast
forward and I've lived in three different
continents and travelled wide and far.
Not living in a place of a few hundred,
I suddenly had hundreds of thousands
of people at my disposal. Now I could
pick out people who appealed to my
intellect, my hobbies and my silly little
quirks. Hell, I could form a metal band
IN MY IMAGE by simply posting an ad
at any given music store.
My small-talk edge slowly dulled,
because here I was, mostly talking to
like-minded folks. Gone was the crazy
baker who picked on me for having
long hair. The mentally challenged
girl on a tricycle didn’t top off my
paper route by going into detailed
discussions about her little dog’s
poo and private parts. For years and
years, I never came across grumpy
dockworkers that I bummed a knife
from. I wasn’t hanging out on the
docks. I still don’t.
As I got older, I became increasingly
picky as to whom I talked to and who
was lucky enough to be graced by my
presence, let alone indulge with me
in any meaningful way. The small-talk
edge continued to dull.
Thirty one years of age, I became
a part of my fjord community again
and it was only then that I realised my
small-talk skills had vaporised and
disappeared. It happened this summer.
I was on an organised mountain
walk with an amalgam of villagers, old
and new. We talked about mundane
and banal things and I appreciated
it, recognising the importance of
socializing and bond-building. Plus, I
was shooting the breeze with people
I hadn’t shared anything with in over
than a decade. But I found myself
wishing they would not talk to me. For
too many years, I’d spoiled myself with
a loaded smorgasbord of individuals
tailored to my every quirk. I longed
for my sharp small-talk edge of old.
Regretfully, it was lost.
The whole summer I tried to regain
it, to no avail. Coincidently I feel
incompetent to a degree. Too bad.
Interview | Tourism Opinion | Birkir Fjalar Viðarsson
Small Talk –
Important Still
So here we are again, shamelessly promoting our writers in their non-Grape-
vine endeavours. Still, if we didn't like their work, we'd hardly be publishing it.
Fact of the matter is that Dr. Gunni's guidebook warrants all the attention it
gets. So there.
HAUkUR S MAGNúSSON
JULIA STAPLES
Welcome to Iceland
Here’s how to find
www.ja.is
WHAT?
WHO? WHERE?
People Businesses Maps Direction
Quick guide to the information
you need while enjoying your stay
There’s not a lot to know about Iceland,
right? It’s a small island. Not a lot of folks
there. And its ‘city’ of Reykjavík is smaller
still. You ought to get a good run through
of the whole thing with fifteen minutes
or so of Googletime.
Not at all, though. If we really
believed that, we probably wouldn’t have
bothered making a hundred and one (and
counting!) issues of Grapevine detailing
all the best (and worst) of Icelandic life.
And we’re not the only ones. Musician,
author, journalist and blogger Gunnar
Hjálmarsson (AKA Dr. Gunni) recently
released his first guidebook on Reykjavík.
Entitled Top 10 Reykjavík and Iceland,
the book is packed with information on
all things pertinent to the casual visitor;
where to go, where to eat, what to see and
what to do.
We like the book, we find it one of the
most comprehensive tourist overviews
to Iceland currently available and we
will happily recommend it to our friends
that are coming over (actually, we were
upset about the whole thing, as we were
planning on making a similar book of
our own). We got Dr. Gunni to tell us all
about it (full disclosure: Dr. Gunni is a
regular contributor to the Grapevine; he
regularly writes our ‘History of Icelandic
Rock Music’ columns).
“Basically, it’s the kind of tourist book
I would like to have when I visit a new
place,” Gunni tells us. “And since it’s
enveloped in that ‘top ten’ formula, it’s
pretty straight to the point. It’s contains
a lot of information on a lot of different
subjects, although the focus is mostly
on Reykjavík. We do have a little bit of
space devoted to the countryside, and to
explaining Icelanders in general.”
Who is it intended for?
Well, it’s mostly aimed at English-
speaking tourists that come to Iceland
without knowing a lot about the country.
People between the ages of 20 and 50. I
didn’t undergo any market research prior
to writing, I mostly did it in the way I
imagined I would like my tourist guides
written.
Being a big music enthusiast, the
book does touch on that subject quite
a bit. I think that a lot of the tourists we
get are here because they’re familiar
with Björk and Sigur Rós, I don’t believe
anyone’s here because we were a bubble
society a couple of years ago.
Are all the things on your top ten
lists based on your own experience
and likings? Or did you consult with
outside parties?
I did seek advice on the fields that I
am not especially interested in, such as
gay life and Reykjavík churches. The
best chapters, or my favourites, are what
I write out of my own interests and
experiences, but I did realise I couldn’t
only write about that.
Do you have a favourite category in
the book?
‘The top ten of Icelandic candy’ is a
great new list. I haven’t seen anything
like it in any tourist book I’ve read, but
would really love it if they all had one.
They always have lists of restaurants and
hostels, but you never get to know about
the candy that the locals love to treat
themselves with. It’s like candy is some
sort of third-rate hobby.
Some of our constant readers
might know you as a ‘consumer
watchdog’—we did a story based
on your activities on that front last
year. Are consumer issues featured
prominently in the guidebook?
You might say I was placed in the
position of consumer watchdog, rather
than seeking it out. I just made a section
on my website that reported on places
that were prone to overcharge, and that
seemed to find a big audience. But it’s a
hobby of mine, I’ll admit as much, and
it’s reflected in the book. We have spots
on cheap-ish restaurants, places to buy
second-hand clothes and the like. And
we do come out and say that Bónus is the
cheapest place to shop for groceries, and
that people should avoid shopping at the
10-11 convenience stores. Which is funny,
as the same company runs both. But
maybe tourists don’t care so much about
cheap these days, now that the Króna has
shat its pants so profoundly.
You’ve always been sort of an alt.
hero in Iceland, placed firmly on
the borders of Icelandic culture,
not having much to do with the
mainstream. A tourist book like
yours probably has to have a mass
appeal to work. So how do the two go
together? For instance: Do you like
stuff normal people like? Are you fit
to guide everyone?
Well, I believe that the people that
choose to come to Iceland aren’t that
normal in the first place. I don’t think
the casual tourist makes his way all the
way over here. I mean, what could normal
people get from this place anyway? Going
to the trouble of flying all the way to
this rock that’s inhabited by a miniscule
number of souls and has nothing going
except for some crazy nature and weird
musicians?
Dr. Gunni Lists Iceland
It’s somewhere in the top ten, apparently
“I don’t believe anyone’s
here because we were a
bubble society a couple of
years ago.”