Reykjavík Grapevine - 29.08.2014, Blaðsíða 42

“What A Hard Life Is That
Of The Poor Icelanders!”
Debarking the 'Camoens' that day
was a group of British friends, three
young men and two women, on their
annual autumn holiday, fresh from
a busy summer of high society par-
ties and picnics. They came to Ice-
land looking for adventure and ex-
periences, and—not the least—to be
different from their friends and ac-
quaintances, who mostly chose the
more fashionable Switzerland and
Austria for their autumn jaunts.
Among them was Ethel Tweedie,
recently married at only eighteen,
accompanied by her young husband.
At her father’s urging, Ethel kept a
detailed diary during her trip—and a
few years later she published a book
recounting her travels on horseback
through Iceland, ‘A Girl’s Ride In Ice-
land’—her first step towards a suc-
cessful career as a travel writer.
Scandal & tourism
Upon publication, Ethel’s travelogue
stirred somewhat of a scandal in Vic-
torian England, due to her espousing
the then-radical view that women
should ride astride on horseback,
like men, rather than bother with un-
comfortable sidesaddles.
But ‘A Girl’s Ride In Iceland’ is
also notable as a treasury of tourists’
view of Iceland in the late 19th cen-
tury. It is obvious that Ethel and her
compatriots think Iceland an exotic
and challenging destination—arriv-
ing in Akureyri, the poverty and gen-
eral misery of the locals is the first
thing Ethel notes:
The first thing that struck us on land-
ing was the sad, dejected look of the
men and women who surrounded us.
There was neither life nor interest
depicted on their faces, nothing but
stolid indifference.
This apathy is no doubt caused by
the hard lives these people live, the
intense cold they have to endure, and
the absence of variety in their every-
day existence. What a contrast their
faces afforded to the bright colouring
and smiling looks one meets with in
the sunny South.
The Icelanders enjoy but little
sun, and we know ourselves, in its
absence, how sombre existence be-
comes. Their complexions too, were
very sallow, and their deportment
struck us as sadly sober.
Quaint, short, Hobbit Eskimos
The men were of low stature, and
broadly built, and wore fur caps and
vests, with huge mufflers round their
throats. These latter, we observed,
were mostly of a saffron colour,
which, combined with their fur caps,
tawny beards, and long locks, gave
them a very quaint appearance.
Men, women, and children alike
wore skin shoes, made from the skin
of the sheep or seal, cut out and sewn
together to the shape of the foot, and
pointed at the toe. These shoes are
tied to their feet by a string made of
gut, and lined merely with a piece of
flannel or serge, a most extraordi-
nary covering in a country so rocky
as Iceland, where at every step sharp
stones, or fragments of lava, are en-
countered. Mocassins are also some-
times worn.
The Icelanders, however, do not
seem to mind any obstacles, but run
and leap on or over them in their
‘skin skurs’ as though impervious
to feeling. Later on we saw a higher
class of Icelanders wearing fisher-
men's boots, but such luxuries were
unknown in the little town where we
first landed. The men being short of
stature, in their curious kit much re-
sembled Eskimos.
Where the streets are
paved with fish heads
The smell of the fish while drying is
terrible, the whole atmosphere be-
ing permeated with the odour. The
streets are also paved with old fish
heads and fish bones; indeed, at
each port we touched, the smell of
fish, fresh or dried, assailed eyes and
noses in every direction.
--
While in Akureyri we saw some poul-
try, perhaps half a dozen cocks and
hens, but they were the only ones
we met with in the Island; nor did we
ever come across a pig! Fancy a land
without these com-
mon accessories to
a peasant's board!
Eggs are only eaten
on state occasions,
and are considered
a luxury, being im-
ported from France;
the eggs of the ei-
der duck are con-
sidered very good
food: they are, of
course, only pro-
curable round the
coast.
--
What a hard life is
that of the poor Ice-
landers! When our
ship arrived, they
were on the verge
of starvation, their
supplies being all
exhausted. Glad
indeed they must
have been to wel-
come the 'Camoens,' and know that
flour and other staple articles of food
were once again within their reach.
--
Akureyri is both famous for, and
proud of, its trees. There are actu-
ally five of them: these are almost
the only trees in the Island. Miserable
specimens indeed they appeared to
us southerners, not being more than
10 feet high at most, and yet they
were thought more of by the natives,
than the chesnuts of Bushey Park by
a Londoner.
Sauðárkrókur savages
The Icelanders encountered by
Tweedie and her companions are
not only miserable paupers — but
appear, at times, like complete sav-
ages, like in this description from
Sauðárkrókur, also in Northern Ice-
land:
On one occasion, while the rest of
the party were settling and arranging
about ponies, which always occupied
some time, I sat down to sketch on a
barrel of dried fish, and was at once
surrounded by men, women, and
children, who stood still and stared,
beckoning to all their passing friends
to join them, till quite a crowd col-
lected.
They seemed to think me a most
extraordinary being. The bolder
ones of the party ventured near and
touched me, feeling my clothes, dis-
cussed the material, and calmly lifted
my dress to examine my high riding-
boots, a great curiosity to them, as
they nearly all wear the peculiar skin
shoes already described. The odour
of fish not only from
the barrel on which I
was seated, but also
from my admiring
crowd, was some-
what appalling as
they stood around,
nodding and chatting
to one another.
Their interest in
my sketch was so
great I cannot be-
lieve they had ever
seen such a thing
before, and I much
regretted my inability
to speak their lan-
guage, so as to an-
swer the many ques-
tions I was asked
about it all. I fancied
they were satisfied,
however, for before
going away, they one
and all shook hands
with me, till my hand
quite ached from so many friendly
grasps.
The men in Iceland always kiss
one another when they meet, as also
do the women, but I only once saw a
man kiss a woman!
42 The Reykjavík GrapevineIssue 13 — 2014LEMÚRINN
Lemúrinn is an Icelandic web magazine (Icelandic for the native primate of Mad-
agascar). A winner of the 2012 Web Awards, Lemúrinn.is covers all things strange
and interesting. Go check it out at www.lemurinn.is
One day in August 1888, the British steamer 'Camoens' docked in the town of Akureyri in
Northern Iceland. The 'Camoens'—for some reason named for Portugal’s national poet, Luís
de Camões—sailed regularly between Scotland and Iceland with passengers and cargo.
Words
Vera Illugadóttir
ARTISAN BAKERY
& COFFEE HOUSE
OPEN EVERYDAY 6.30 - 21.00
LAUGAVEGUR 36 · 101 REYKJAVIK
These shoes are tied
to their feet by a string
made of gut, and lined
merely with a piece of
flannel or serge, a most
extraordinary covering
in a country so rocky
as Iceland, where
at every step sharp
stones, or fragments of
lava, are encountered.
Mocassins are also
sometimes worn.