Reykjavík Grapevine - 02.06.2017, Qupperneq 8

Perhaps only once in a generation, an
intrepid individual hears the yearn-
ing of their masses—in this case Ice-
land—and steps up. Karl Marx, Mark
Zuckerberg, that guy who made the
Snuggie… you know the type. Well,
add Elísabet Guðrúnar Jónsdóttir to
that list, as just over a week ago,
the young computer programmer
created the Facebook group “Sögur
af dónalegum viðskiptavinum,” aka
“Stories of Rude Customers.” Gain-
ing almost 1,000 members since,
the group has provided an outlet for
the Icelandic proletariat to air their
grievances. Watch out Parliament.
“Look, everybody hates rude custom-
ers and really, rude customers should
hate themselves,” Elísabet tells me on
the phone with a sigh. “I mean I used
to work retail. It was just horrible.”
While most retail workers understand
the normal annoyances of the job—i.e
“Oh this item didn’t scan, guess it’s free
then!!!!”—this group has some particu-
larly horrifying tales:
“To the guy who took a shit in the gar-
bage of the boys bathroom, cool man!”
“Before the time of the PIN, I met
this jolly fella’ who took a roundhouse
kick to my DVD rack because he couldn’t
use a card that he didn’t own.”
“One woman shoved me down the
stairs while I was carrying a steaming
tray of food because she was not happy
that the candle on her table was not lit.”
And while the Reykjavík Grapevine
isn’t a direct-customer-contact job per
se, that doesn’t mean we media work-
ers are exempt. Just be a journalist
around drunk people and you’ll see,
suddenly every single person is the best
undiscovered DJ/writer/actor/rapper/
what-have-you in the city. And while we
are sure your electro-post-folk-house-
tummy drum album is going to revolu-
tionize the scene, most of us have found
that those who are exciting enough to
warrant press do not ask for it. Also
c’mon man, it’s 4am on a Friday.
So tourists (we know you are read-
ing this) take note: Be nice or be
publicly shamed. Icelanders take
no shit, at least, not on Facebook.
Share this article:
gpv.is/groups
Words:
Hannah Jane
Cohen
DIGITAL LIFE
AROUND ICELAND IN
80 FACEBOOK GROUPS:
Sögur af
dónalegum
viðskiptavinum
WORD OF
THE ISSUE
Literally translated as “mother of
light,” “ljósmóðir” is the Icelandic
word for “midwife,” and it’s consid-
ered by many to be the most beauti-
ful word in the Icelandic language. Its
soft sound does not do justice to the
strength and determination of mid-
wives, but it evokes the lightness and
happiness that comes with childbirth.
Its origins are unclear, but the word
“light” might be connected to the name
Lucina, the Roman goddess who as-
sists women in childbirth. Regardless,
the concept of a mother of light makes
sense when we think of midwives as
the individuals who bring light into
the world—the brightness of new life
and a fresh hope for the future. AD
8 The Reykjavík Grapevine
Issue 09 — 2017
Readers
Write
Dear Nuclear Weapon Scientists,
I have some doubts that need to be
addressed for the sake of science. In
my view “I have nuclear weapons” is a
wrong sentence to our world.
According to our religious faith, even
God also wanted to live on Earth, so why we
should destroy our Earth? As we all know,
after millions of year struggle we reached
caves house to granite house. If we will not
control the present pollutions of our Earth,
the labour of our forefathers will destroy.
By the help of science, is our world is
trying to end its continuity or start its
life? We are in which stage?
As per nuclear weapon testing and
dropping (at the time of war), both harm
living things including human beings, di-
rectly or indirectly. Isn’t it?
Is there space crafts to shift trillions of
human beings into the new invented planet?
Is there also any facility to shift the trillions
of plants, animals, microorganisms to that
planet to maintain the ecological balance?
This is a special request to the en-
tire (world) news channel on the behalf
of me to ask these above questions to
nuclear weapon scientists.
Thanking You,
Sanjay Kumar Patnaik
Dear Sanjay,
We feel you. Countless times have
we stumbled upon these questions at
the end of a long, booze-fuelled night.
Sensing urgency, we must state how-
ever that we are not nuclear experts (I
mean some of us studied chemistry at
school, but it ends there).
On one level, your letter is refresh-
ing and we feel pretty special to have
been selected as one of the chosen
ones. We took your request very seri-
ously and called Costco to see if they
had any spacecrafts for sale (capacity:
trillions). I’m afraid it’s bad news.
The struggle is real,
The Reykjavík Grapevine
An artist's imprssion of a total douchemuffin
LÓABRATORIUM
WHERE WAS IT SHOT?
‘Dilwale’
Words: Hannah Jane Cohen
If you’re not from India or some die-hard
Indiaphile, you might not be familiar
with the magnificence that is the Bol-
lywood film ‘Dilwale.' “What?” we hear
you say. “They shot a Bollywood film…
in Iceland?” Yup, they did, and don’t be
embarrassed—we know it’s puzzling.
The end result is both exactly what
you’d expect while also being—hon-
estly—way better than expected. Di-
rector Rohit Shetty does succeed in
taking the unbridled wild barrenness
that is Iceland and making it, well,
Bollywood-ish. While the whole pack-
age is still somewhat tacky and hor-
rible, one must admire his effort. It
takes imagination to look at lava fields
and decide they need silk, wind ma-
chines, and choreography, and it takes
dedication to, well, actually do that.
The movie really goes for it too. In
one scene, wistful hottie Kajol stands
in front of the Vestrahorn mountain
wearing a dress that is colour coordi-
nated with the beige sand behind her.
In another, the lovers stand on top of a
canoe in Vík clasping hands in carnal
desperation as metres of bright orange
fabric twirl in the breeze beside them.
Later, they dance in front of Skogafoss
which then cuts to a shot of—I am
not fucking kidding here—our manly
star dancing on top of the water. Yes,
just like Jesus. Again, don’t be em-
barrassed. The whole thing is a real
doozy. It’ll take some time to sink in.
An artist's impression of a typical
Reykjavík mushroom cloud