Atlantica - 01.10.2006, Blaðsíða 65

AT L A N T I CA 63
Skagaströnd was an unlabeled dot on the map
with a then-population of 400. The original build-
ing, which once served as the town’s general
store, burned down in 1997 and was rebuilt the
following year in its present iteration, as a log
cabin made from 180 tons of pine imported from
Loja, Finland.
Today, the building looks like a mix between
a pre-fab house and a Boy Scout lodge. Red and
white checkered curtains hang from its windows,
and coat hooks lining the entrance have been
fashioned out of fake painted horseshoes. A plastic
replica of a Native American wearing a red and
white feather headdress hangs on the wall above
one of the wooden booths.
Kántrýbaer is why people come to this little
town located 20 minutes from the Ring Road. It
has made its way into various guidebooks over the
years, including Lonely Planet, which writes that a
“meal or a beer here is a must.”
“Hallbjörn has played a very important role in
Skagaströnd,” says Adolf H. Berndsen, chairman
of the town’s council, an Alison Krauss track play-
ing in the eatery’s background. “He has put this
town on the map.”
You’ll see more rental cars in its parking lot
than the typical steroid-infused local trucks. And
even the menu attempts to stay in theme – think
“country” burgers, chicken nuggets, steak sand-
wiches and, for dessert, apple or pecan pie à la
mode. There’s one small French diversion on the
menu: “Bon Apatite” [sic].
Though no official figures exist, it is estimated
that 12,000 people visited Iceland’s Capital of
Country in 2000, the biggest year for the not-exact-
ly-annual Country Festival. (2002 was the last year
it was held.) Gunnar Halldórsson, Hallbjörn’s son-
in-law, who also serves as Kántrýbaer’s chef and
manager, and in this case, interpreter, estimates
that he serves, on average, 150 guests on a Friday
or a Saturday night during the height of summer.
Surprisingly – or not – Hallbjörn has only been
to America once – to Nashville in 1988 to record
his sixth studio album, Kántrý 6 in Nashville. He
made it to Graceland, but never west of the big,
wide Mississippi. His visions of the Old West came
to him the old-fashioned way: voyeuristically,
through his blue eyes and country ears.
“John Wayne!” he says, his white, pencil-thin
moustache curling, helping to pronounce his
smirk. “I saw all this stuff in the old westerns I
would show in the cinema.” Hallbjörn owned the
ICELAND a
“I never prepare for my shifts. The music just
comes as I go along.... But I hate
playing my own music.”
050-94ICELANDAtl506 .indd 63 25.8.2006 1:13:12