everyone knows everyone, and strangers stick
out like a redhead in a sea of blond, blue-eyed people.
One can easily stumble upon stories of heroism and triumphant resilience against the
elements when traipsing about town or frequenting the small tavern Lundinn on a busy
night (which is most nights). Once beyond the initial cool gaze afforded strangers,
little effort is required in becoming the favored guest of an overzealous fisherman
more than willing to donate the Icelandic version of an Irish coffee while recounting
a remarkable story with a matter-of-fact poise. Unless a glutton for punishment, I
highly recommendavoiding such friendly gestures. A single dose of an Icelandic fisherman’s Irish coffee,
accompanied by a hearty shoulder grip is hardly an equitable exchange for a good yarn
and may land the more gullible a thankless job onboard his fishing boat (a close encounter
of which I have firsthand experience).
The town of Heimaey had a brand of small town charm uniquely its own. Townspeople
were friendly, but something much deeper ran beneath the surface. It was as if there
was a secret society behind the outwardly affable nature of most; though not apparent
to a casual visitor. It took living and working in Heimaey to recognize the profound
bond that the locals shared with one another.
Unlike any U.S. hometown claimed by the Keiko project team members, Heimaey had no
crime to speak of. I doubted that anyone, a few I was sure of, ever locked the doors
to his or her home. Children played throughout town with no parent watching over or
worrying about their safety. On trips to the nearby grocery store, I remember being
shocked that young mothers would leave their babies in strollers parked just outside
the door while they shopped inside. I couldn’t imagine the culture of security ingrained
so deeply as to afford such comfort. But it wasn’t the utopian safety or friendliness
of Heimaey that gave its people a distinctive quality. It was something much deeper,
more generational, something they were raised with and something individual to this
island.
Iceland has perhaps one of the most pure cultures remaining. Very little outside influence
on the society has taken place over the centuries. Its Nordic language, Icelandic,
is a subgroup of Germanic languages and one of the oldest in the world. It is said
that a modern Icelander could converse easily with a fellow countryman from the twelfth
century, so little has changed about the language, the dialect, and the written word.
The island of Heimaey is believed to have been first settled in 930 AD.
Dating back to the seventeenth century, Heimaey had been the target of the Turkish
abductions, known as one of the most violent events in Iceland’s history. Barbary
pirates raided the island in 1627 capturing or killing more than fifty percent of
the inhabitants.Survivors were spirited off to Algiers and into a life of brutal slavery. These invasions
happened again some years later when nearly 800 Icelanders were taken into slavery.
Between 1963 and 1973, several volcanic eruptions plagued the small town. In the most
destructive of these eruptions, the volcano Eldfel began spewing volcanic ash and
lava on the early morning of January 23, 1973. Almost the entire population of Heimaey
had to be evacuated to the mainland within hours of the eruption’s start. Many homes
and farmsteads near the main fissure of the eruption were completely destroyed, either
buried in lava flow or burned by flying lava bombs.
In addition to the violent history with Barbary pirates and challenges of the volcano
fire mountain, the small fishing village has had no shortage of sacrifice at the hands
of the unpredictable North Atlantic. Many families carry a scarred history of loved
ones lost at sea. Local legends frequent the town’s few drinking holes and lend to
the otherworldly feel of the culture. In 1984, a local
out like a redhead in a sea of blond, blue-eyed people.
One can easily stumble upon stories of heroism and triumphant resilience against the
elements when traipsing about town or frequenting the small tavern Lundinn on a busy
night (which is most nights). Once beyond the initial cool gaze afforded strangers,
little effort is required in becoming the favored guest of an overzealous fisherman
more than willing to donate the Icelandic version of an Irish coffee while recounting
a remarkable story with a matter-of-fact poise. Unless a glutton for punishment, I
highly recommendavoiding such friendly gestures. A single dose of an Icelandic fisherman’s Irish coffee,
accompanied by a hearty shoulder grip is hardly an equitable exchange for a good yarn
and may land the more gullible a thankless job onboard his fishing boat (a close encounter
of which I have firsthand experience).
The town of Heimaey had a brand of small town charm uniquely its own. Townspeople
were friendly, but something much deeper ran beneath the surface. It was as if there
was a secret society behind the outwardly affable nature of most; though not apparent
to a casual visitor. It took living and working in Heimaey to recognize the profound
bond that the locals shared with one another.
Unlike any U.S. hometown claimed by the Keiko project team members, Heimaey had no
crime to speak of. I doubted that anyone, a few I was sure of, ever locked the doors
to his or her home. Children played throughout town with no parent watching over or
worrying about their safety. On trips to the nearby grocery store, I remember being
shocked that young mothers would leave their babies in strollers parked just outside
the door while they shopped inside. I couldn’t imagine the culture of security ingrained
so deeply as to afford such comfort. But it wasn’t the utopian safety or friendliness
of Heimaey that gave its people a distinctive quality. It was something much deeper,
more generational, something they were raised with and something individual to this
island.
Iceland has perhaps one of the most pure cultures remaining. Very little outside influence
on the society has taken place over the centuries. Its Nordic language, Icelandic,
is a subgroup of Germanic languages and one of the oldest in the world. It is said
that a modern Icelander could converse easily with a fellow countryman from the twelfth
century, so little has changed about the language, the dialect, and the written word.
The island of Heimaey is believed to have been first settled in 930 AD.
Dating back to the seventeenth century, Heimaey had been the target of the Turkish
abductions, known as one of the most violent events in Iceland’s history. Barbary
pirates raided the island in 1627 capturing or killing more than fifty percent of
the inhabitants.Survivors were spirited off to Algiers and into a life of brutal slavery. These invasions
happened again some years later when nearly 800 Icelanders were taken into slavery.
Between 1963 and 1973, several volcanic eruptions plagued the small town. In the most
destructive of these eruptions, the volcano Eldfel began spewing volcanic ash and
lava on the early morning of January 23, 1973. Almost the entire population of Heimaey
had to be evacuated to the mainland within hours of the eruption’s start. Many homes
and farmsteads near the main fissure of the eruption were completely destroyed, either
buried in lava flow or burned by flying lava bombs.
In addition to the violent history with Barbary pirates and challenges of the volcano
fire mountain, the small fishing village has had no shortage of sacrifice at the hands
of the unpredictable North Atlantic. Many families carry a scarred history of loved
ones lost at sea. Local legends frequent the town’s few drinking holes and lend to
the otherworldly feel of the culture. In 1984, a local
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