Month: September 2013

Fewer than a million people have ever been born on Iceland. When you ask an Icelander how long their family has been here, most will say, “We came with the early settlers” — those mostly Norwegian adventurers who fled the old country for various reasons for this bleak and remote alternative. Consequently, the island has a unique genetic homogeneity that presents fascinating opportunities for science and medical experimentation.

Nearly the entire society (90 percent) has opted in to a genetic experiment giving a research company access to all medical records. In the name of medical progress, genes are isolated and everything is organized into a giant Icelandic database. There’s even an app for that. It lets Icelanders check into the national family tree and see how closely related they are to the person they’re buying a drink in the bar. My guide said, “Nearly everyone is related, and it’s nice to know just who you’re sleeping with. My wife and I have a common grandmother in the ninth generation.”

For me, with my Norwegian heritage, I felt surrounded by cousins:

Iceland was remote, backward, and poor until after World War II. Discovered accidentally by Vikings, thousands of settlers came here in the ninth and 10th centuries. The country, like America, was founded by freedom-loving people fleeing a harsh king and unfair taxes. Icelanders established a national parliament in 930 — considered the first of its kind. Shortly after that, while under extreme pressure from the Norwegian king, Iceland converted to Christianity — so they’ve been church-goers for a thousand years.

Rather than wars, Icelanders weathered centuries of volcanic eruptions and harsh winters. A big census in the 1700s counted 38,000 souls…nearly all of them related to early Norwegian settlers. When tough times hit, Icelanders — like so many Europeans — packed up and moved to the “New Land” of America. Nearly a quarter of the population emigrated to Canada and the USA in the late 19th century. By World War I, there were more Icelanders in America than at home.

During World War II the Allies needed a mid-Atlantic military base, and suddenly the world took note of little Iceland. A humble land of 60,000 people living mostly in turf huts before the war, Iceland boomed in the postwar years. The focus changed from Scandinavia to Britain and the USA, and eventually English rather than Danish became the second language (Iceland was part of the Kingdom of Denmark from 1814 to 1918). And with relative prosperity (and aid from the Marshall Plan) came modern building techniques. Readily available materials shape the architecture of any region. Immediately after World War II there were lots of military surplus structures. Where there are no trees there is lots of sand — so with the arrival of the first local cement factory in 1952 and cheap concrete, buildings began looking like what we’d expect.

As this was my first time in Iceland, I enjoyed a burst of first impressions. It’s a rainy land with plenty of moss and green scrub covering black volcanic lava flows. And it has almost no trees. Even when the first settlers came, it was a land nearly without trees. Today about 1 percent of Iceland is forested, and much of that includes trees used to landscape towns. Sparsely populated and geographically isolated, Iceland has a rich folklore along with a passion for nature — and a strong connection between its heritage and nature. It seems every rock has a thousand-year-old name and a legend to go along with it. There’s no escaping nature here, and that’s turned into a plus. Trendy restaurants are enthusiastically organic — literally wallpapered with fish skin and serving gourmet delights on slabs of rock and rustic little planks.

And local pride is actually a psychological condition. Social scientists note that people who live on little, remote islands often have an inferiority complex and brag about whatever they can. It’s called the “Small Island Syndrome” and it actually makes visiting Iceland more fun. Little things are big here. Icelanders of note who live abroad are almost revered here. The place where Bill Clinton ate an Icelandic hot dog is practically a historical monument.

Tourism is important and, as you don’t just casually drop by Iceland, marketing is critical. A challenge for the tourist board is that outsiders can’t remember or even pronounce anything on the map beyond the capital city. We all know Reykjavik — which is abbreviated Rvk — but few can pronounce the name of the infamous volcano, Eyjafjallajökull, which stopped so much trans-Atlantic air travel in 2010. For convenience, it’s referred to by its first letter and the number of letters that follow: E15. The town of Vik, while of no interest to tourists, is the second most famous place in the country — simply because foreigners (that’s everyone but a third of a million people on this planet) can remember it and spell it.

Whether or not you can remember any names on the map, Iceland is an easy and rewarding place in which to travel. Icelandair has good fares in general and makes stopovers almost free. Since the economic crisis of 2008-2011, the value of the Icelandic crown has dropped by half. While prices have risen on imported goods correspondingly, the cost of living and visiting here, while still expensive, is about on par with Denmark — and much lower than in Norway. There are plenty of guesthouses, hostels, and fun, affordable eateries. Tourist activities and services (like bike tours and cheap shuttle buses from the airport) are competitively priced. All you need is a passport and proficiency in the English language.

The skyline of Reykjavik — as seen from approaching ships — is dominated by its sleek and towering Lutheran church, Hallgrímskirkja:

Over half of all Icelanders live in or near Reykjavik. Since there are only 320,000 people on the island, it remains a small and easy-to-manage capital city. Reykjavik faces a century-old, workaday harborfront with busy dry docks and a hardy fishing fleet. Cruising is on the rise here and a new harbor just outside of town hosts about 80 ships a year. A big topic of discussion locally is how enthusiastically the cruise industry should be encouraged.

The view from my hotel window was of this busy fishing harbor and hardworking ships being dragged in and out of the hardworking dry docks:

As in great cities all over Europe, harborfronts are transitioning from a purely industrial zone to a more people-friendly zone. Given Iceland’s humble economy and recent economic crash, the vision is measured.

The big news is Reykjavik’s dazzling new Harpa Concert Hall and Conference Center. The word Harpa has two meanings: the stringed musical instrument, and (from the Old Norse calendar) the spring season, a time of rebirth. It was a much-needed addition to the city’s cultural infrastructure. Until 2011, the national symphony performed in a movie theater. The center was originally the vision of a local banking tycoon and it was intended for what some considered “elitist activities” — the opera and symphony. But he went bust during the economic crisis and the state and city took it over. Now it’s an 1,800-seat cultural palace with a mandate to bring diverse and affordable arts and culture to the populace. But, as happens with farsighted investments in culture and a nation’s heritage all over the world, this hall still draws complaints. Old-timers grouse that for the cost of that fancy building they could have bought 30 big fishing trawlers.