Reykjavík Grapevine - 16.08.2013, Blaðsíða 20

We are standing in the parking lot sur-
rounded by an army of baby blue Ísbíllinn
ice cream trucks—ambitious soldiers of
cream and sugar and happiness. Each one
is equipped with a ship's bell attached to the
driver's side window. The bell serves as a
charming alternative to the traditional ice
cream truck jingle, and a necessary precau-
tion for sanity when the route takes, say, up-
wards of seven days to complete.
Neither rain, nor snow,
nor…threat of polar bear
Collectively, this ten-truck fleet has seen
every nook and cranny of Iceland. Those
that are reachable by road, anyways. And
occasionally, accidentally, a few that aren't.
Since the company's inception in 1994, Ís-
bíllinn has provided for Iceland's ice cream
loving population unceasingly. A map of
the country that hangs on their office wall
displays a colour-coded net of routes and
schedules. From a six-day trek weaving
through the Westfjords, to a fourteen-day
traverse across the North, to a quick four-
hour pop over to Mollsfellsbær, Ísbíllinn
has Iceland covered—with one (slightly
ironic) exception: Reykjavík. But they're
working on it.
Yerzhana's cigarette fizzles down to a
soggy stub, finally allowing me to escape
the elements. As we enter the garage, a
man named Sigurður G. Jökulsson—Sig-
gi—emerges from the back with a steam-
ing cup of coffee. He jumps headfirst into
the conversation, embellishing Yerzhana's
information with his own anecdotes, coun-
tering some points, supplementing others.
It is clear by the way they engage with each
other that they understand each other a lit-
tle too well, like a cross-country team. Or a
writer's circle. Groups that only have to tell
half of a story to elicit a reaction, because
they were all there for it. Groups united by
a common interest, and simultaneously set
apart because of that interest. Ísbíllinn's
interest: ice cream.
Between the two of them they stack
story upon story of mishaps and mal-
functions, tales gathered from nearly two
decades of servicing Iceland. They tell
me how one of their drivers, Helgi, got
his nickname, "Helgi Highland," after he
and his truck were stranded in the eastern
highlands due to a GPS system that didn't
take into account the seasonal restric-
tions of Iceland's roadways. "We weren't
too worried about the ice cream, up there
in the highlands. And Helgi was fine, he
wasn't in polar bear territory" Yerzhana
says, giggling.
"The polar bears," she continues, "they
are found more up here" and circles a re-
gion on the map with a red route snaking
through it. "We had a truck tip over there
one time because of the extreme winds."
There are plenty more tales like this
one, breakdowns in the Westfjords many
kilometres from the next village. Icy roads
mocking the weak traction of the ice cream
truck's tires. More misinformed GPS sys-
tems. But they are a persistent bunch, and
it's all a part of the job description.
Trading the ship's bell
for the door-bell
As I enter the office two potential employ-
ees are exiting. They've just gone through
an interview with Ásgeir Baldursson, Yer-
zhana's husband and co-owner of Ísbíllinn.
The young girls' inexpressive faces don't
give me any information as to how the in-
terviews went. Ásgeir follows them out and
introduces himself gleefully. I ask him how
the interviews went and he gives me an
inconclusive mumble. I wonder if I would
make the cut, so I ask him what he looks for
in employees.
"You have to be a people person," he
answers. Most of the routes include remote
farm houses where transactions occur at the
doorstep, sometimes even after having been
invited in for a cup of coffee. "It's nerve-
wracking at first," adds Siggi, "but you soon
realise that you're not a vacuum salesman,
and people are actually very happy to see
you." On top of door-to-door service, the
company also updates their website regu-
larly to let followers know when they will
be embarking for certain neighbourhoods,
along with the phone numbers of the driv-
ers, in case you'd like to request a detour or a
reserve a box of the best-seller, Hnetu Top-
pur. How's that for customer service?
Serving smiles is
just my side job
It's a great job for students, and people of
artistic professions, adds Yerzhana. "It's a
very flexible, temporary summer job—you
get to see the country and eat ice cream."
To demonstrate her point, Ásgeir reaches
for a book off of the office bookshelf that
was published by a former employee. Si-
multaneously Yerzhana opens the 'Ex-
treme Chill Festival' line-up on the com-
puter and points out one of the featured
artists, Modesart. "He worked for us too"
she confirms.
The flexibility of the job doesn't im-
pede the company's reliability. "People
assume that we run according to the
weather," says Yerzhana, "but if you run a
business that way in Iceland, you'd never
get anything done!"
Even though the trucks don't run as fre-
quently in the wintertime, Ísbíllinn's popu-
larity remains pretty consistent throughout
the year. "Sure, you're like Santa Claus in
the summertime," Yerzhana says, "but ice
cream tastes good in any weather.”
I can vouch for that. Siggi offers me an
ice cream bar from the truck. Even though
the rain is coming down harder than be-
fore, and my impressively absorbent jean
jacket is not going to let me forget it, I
take him up on the offer. "I'll have one
of your specialties," I tell him. "Have you
ever had a Tyrkisk Peber?" he asks me,
"those are quite special." I haven't, so he
props open the back of the truck's cooler,
fumbles around with a couple of boxes
and hands me one.
At first glance the Tyrkisk Peber is ap-
palling. It's shiny, black, and cold—like
a tiny police baton. Siggi grins with the
same threatening innocence of a child
playing a prank, he warns me of a "spicy
surprise" that waits in the middle. But the
only surprise was a pleasant one, as it was
actually quite tasty. I can now confidently
confirm Yerzhana's statement: ice cream
really does taste good in any weather.
20The Reykjavík Grapevine Issue 12 — 2013
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ICELANDIC PRODUCE
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This Is How We Chill
Ísbíllinn's extreme commitment to satisfying Iceland's sweet tooth
by Adrienne Blaine
It is a grey day. My hair is frizzy with the air's thick moisture when I approach the
open garage at Ísbíllinn. Yerzhana Akhmetzhanova, the company's co-owner, walks
from the back to the front to greet me, and then keeps walking, preventing me from
escaping to the hollow shelter of the headquarters. At least until she has a cigarette. I
wait beside a dumpster overflowing with cardboard ice cream boxes while she has her
smoke and comments on the amount of garbage lying about.
Iceland | Ice cream
We weren't too
worried about
the ice cream,
up there in
the highlands.
And Helgi was
fine, he wasn't
in polar bear
territory.
“
„ Axel Sigurðarson
Ísbílinn trucks run regularly throughout the country from March to December.
Visit their website: www.isbillinn.is for route schedules, driver phone numbers, and what's in stock.
Co-owner Sigurður G. Jökulsson with the Ísbíllinn fleet.