Reykjavík Grapevine - 10.03.2017, Síða 14

THE BODEGA IS A DYING
BREED, slowly being replaced by
larger, richer chain franchises.
It’s the same story here in Iceland.
Venture into Vesturbær—the west
Reykjavík neighbourhood which
is in many ways an anachronism
in itself—and on the corner of
Ránargata and Ægisgata, you will
find Pétursbúð. The building itself
is nondescript, and would appear
to the passerby to be just another
anonymous rowhouse on a block
lined with rowhouses, were it not
for two things: the modest “Pé-
tursbúð” sign with its opening
hours above the front door, and the
display windows festooned with
Icelandic advertisements from the
early-to-mid 20th century.
True to any bodega, there ap-
pears to be little rhyme or reason
to how the items on the shelves
are organised. Also true to any bo-
dega, this is not a place you would
go to do your weekly grocery shop-
ping, although you conceivably
could, if you so desired. Rather,
this is a place you stop in to buy
the thing you forgot to buy at the
store: that bag of sugar, coffee
packet, or can of cat food.
To shop in Pétursbúð is to
contribute to nostalgia for nos-
talgia’s sake: you could probably
find the same things, for cheaper,
elsewhere. But that’s not why you
shop at Pétursbúð. You go to Bó-
nus to spare your wallet; you go to
Pétursbúð to spare your heart.
ICELAND’S PARLIAMENT is
currently debating whether to al-
low alcohol to be sold in supermar-
kets, and everyone has a strong
opinion on the subject. This is but
the latest battle in a long struggle
going back over a hundred years.
Iceland, it seems, has never had a
normal drinking culture.
In a 1916 referendum, the peo-
ple voted in favour of banning
alcohol in the country. The pro-
hibition was partially repealed,
however, in 1922, when Spain, the
largest importer of Icelandic fish,
threatened to slap Iceland with
tariffs unless the country contin-
ued to buy Spanish wine. Strong
liquor was allowed in 1935, but
beer, bizarrely, not until 1989.
Icelanders might have happily
continued to booze on Brennivín
for most of the century had the
country not, in 1940, been invaded
by legions of beer-swilling tjallar
(slang for “Charlies,” or English-
men). Finding no beer in the coun-
try, they turned to the strong stuff,
while previously unemployed local
men found work building airfields
and were suddenly flush with
cash. It is said that there has never
been as much drinking in Iceland
as there was during World War II.
In the autumn of 1940, the
government reacted by imposing
strict controls. Drink stamps were
introduced, and the monthly allow-
ance was two litres of spirits or four
of wine for men, and half that for
women. This led to a thriving black
market and reports of grannies
hurrying to the liquor store to pro-
cure their quota, probably intended
for others. Weddings were allowed
an extra share of alcohol, and some
suggest that people got married
merely to get their booze allowance.
Alcohol was banned from all res-
taurants except Hótel Borg, but this
seemed to have had little effect.
Rationing was only abandoned in
August of 1945, but in the meantime
there were further qualms. While
foreign soldiers could buy their
drink on the black market, there was
The Battle Over
Beer
Words VALUR GUNNARSSON
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Pétursbúð
A 1950s bodega in the
heart of the west-side
HISTORY
TIME CAPSULE
simply no beer to be had anywhere
in the country. Military authorities
insisted that their men be allowed
access to beer, and threatened to
import their own if the local govern-
ment did not remedy the situation.
The issue was fiercely contest-
ed in Parliament in the autumn of
1940. Iceland’s urgeon general gave
an impassioned speech arguing
that beer was a gateway drug to
hard liquor (which was allowed),
and if beer were brewed for the oc-
cupying power, it would soon be-
come legal for Icelanders too.
However, others pointed out
that if Icelanders did not brew
beer for the troops, they would
simply import their own, which
would not be taxed. This won the
day, and the first beer, named sim-
ply Pilsner, appeared in early 1941.
One soldier claimed it was the best
beer in Europe, but others were
more sceptical of its quality.
The surgeon general need not
have worried, for the beer was only
sold to soldiers under strict ra-
tioning, with officers getting first
access to the meagre quantities.
The natives had to wait another
half century until beer was finally
introduced.
The one remaining feature of
the prohibition era is the ban on
selling alcohol outside the state-
run liquor stores. Every now and
again, the issue is raised in Parlia-
ment. The last time was on Janu-
ary 20th, 2009, but a revolution
broke out later that day and so the
motion did not pass. It does not
seem as if it will this time either.
Words PAUL FONTAINE
Photo ART BICNICK
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The great Icelandic
conflict of World War II
14 The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 03 — 2017
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