Reykjavík Grapevine - 05.05.2017, Blaðsíða 20

SHOW ME THE MONEY:
Crabs and
Fraud
Until the mid-to-late 19th century,
most financial transactions in
Iceland were conducted in vaðmál
(homespun wool). However, since
1922, Iceland has issued its own
currency, the króna. Iceland never
being the best at economic stabil-
ity, the króna has lost significant
value every decade since its initial
issue, and in 1981 we decided to
cut a couple of zeros from it, intro-
ducing the current króna. So, let’s
meet the…
50 Króna Coin
Fishing is one of the main indus-
tries in Iceland, so it is no wonder
that they’ve chosen to depict vari-
ous sea species on all their coins.
On the 50 króna is the shore crab.
This little devil is native to the
shores of Iceland, but making a
real nuisance of itself elsewhere.
It is classed as an invasive spe-
cies, mucking up the ecosystem of
Australian and American coasts,
eating all their clams and pissing
off fishermen, and it’s spreading.
Could this crab singlehandedly
bring down the world’s fishing in-
dustry, leading to economic col-
lapse, war, famine and the death
of society? I have no idea. But it’s
something to ponder when you
gather a bunch of your 50 krónas
together to buy a latte.
So, What’s It worth?
So, the 50 króna is the least valu-
able coin that actually has some
value. Because, let’s face it, the 1, 5
and 10 króna coins are pointless. If
you look *really* hard you may find
some sweets on sale for around 50
króna. Many eco-conscious coffee
shops in the city also charge you
50 króna for a takeaway cup. So
theoretically you could trade this
coin for an empty paper cup. Alter-
natively, I have it on good author-
ity that, due to the size and weight
of the coin, it can masquerade as a
£1 coin in many of the UK’s park-
ing and vending machines. And, as
50 króna is currently worth £0.35,
you’ll have made yourself a tidy
profit (in the form of parking time
and sweets). So save up your 50s,
head to Britain, and make it rain. JS
20 The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 07 — 2017
Words:
Valur Grettisson
Photos:
Art Bicnick
Share this article:
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What would happen if a bunch of
nerdy intellectuals assembled
some kind of strip show? Well, we
would probably have a sexy version
of the grey wizard, Gandalf himself,
wouldn’t we? And perhaps some
raunchy flack for the booming tour-
ism industry in Iceland? In a word,
you’d probably have something like
The Reykjavík Kabarett. And we had
to see it for ourselves.
A few words about the
sleazy era
Perhaps we need to explain the complex
relationship Reykjavík has with strip-
ping. The city of Reykjavík legalised strip
clubs in the late 90s, and it didn’t take
long for clubs to open on seemingly every
corner of Reykjavík (and even Kópavogur).
For a short time we had the most strip
clubs per person in the world. To be fair,
Icelanders have always been
the best in being the best.
The situation was out of
control. So, in the end, the
city of Reykjavík was fed up
with horny Icelanders and
regulations became strict
again, although we didn’t
ban strip clubs completely.
A few of the clubs survived
in the form of “gentle-
men’s clubs” (the change
in nomenclature doesn’t
really fool anyone, except
perhaps the poor sucker
who think he’s classy for be-
ing ripped off by strippers).
One of these clubs, Straw-
berries, was closed few years
ago amid allegations that
prostitution was ongoing
there. The charges were nev-
er definitively proven, but the
club closed anyway after the
tax inspectors had their way
with it (they always get you
somehow in the end). And today, the for-
mer location of Strawberries is the host
of a new era in downtown exhibitionism:
Reykjavík Kabarett, founded by the for-
mer TV personality Margrét Erla Maack.
CULTURE
Sexy Gandalf And
Something About
Abortion
“This is an
intellectual
theatre where
a different
bunch of
people find
very inter-
esting and
funny ways
to express
humour,
sexuality,
and even
opinions
about abor-
tion.”
New life, a sexy life, a funny
life
Which brings us to the sexy life of mod-
ern-day Reykjavík. The Kabarett is an en-
semble of different artists with one thing
in common: they’re hilariously funny, and
they’re sexy at the same time. The core of
the group is Icelandic, though foreign
performers take part. For example the
drop-dead gorgeous Wilfredo, who looks
like a combination of Marty Feldman (the
one who played Igor in ‘Young Franken-
stein’) and Serge Gainsbourg. And then
there are hula hoops, a magician and yes,
a weirdly sexy version of the Grey Wizard
(I am not ashamed of admitting that).
The show is held in the damp cellar
of the Green Room (Græna herbergið
at Lækjargata, the former location of
Strawberries). But the venue is plainly
too small, because at a recent perfor-
mance, every seat was taken and the air
was damp and boozy, like the show itself.
“We are going bigger,” said Margrét Erla
Maack when I talked to her at intermis-
sion. “But we don’t want to be too big,” she
added. Well, size doesn’t matter, does it?
Something else
But the show is getting
bigger, and it’s getting
louder. This is the kind of
theatre Icelanders don’t
see often, and they’ve
taken notice of these
unique performers. Al-
though the Kabarett is a
raunchy show, it is proba-
bly far-fetched to called it
a strip show. The correct
word would be burlesque.
This is intellectual the-
atre where a different
bunch of people find very
interesting and funny
ways to express humour,
sexuality—and even
opinions about abortion.
The next show will be
at Kex Hostel on May 8,
then it will run weekly
from June. Grapevine, of
course, went to the show
with a photographer to document a
whole night with this strange bunch.
You can find more on page 58.
Before aaaand...
... after.
Margrét Erla Maack (on the right) was
a TV personality in Iceland and is now
the director of Reykjavík Kabarett