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TRAVELLER
IT MIGHT JUST
have been the best publicity stunt
ever. Last October, a video clip, purporting to come
straight from the office of the President of Iceland,
began to do the rounds online.
Opening with a close-up shot of a neatly ordered
desk, behind which sat a white-haired man in a
well-pressed suit and yellow tie, the 40-second address
began. “My name is Olafur Ragnar Grimsson,” the
man said, “and I live here in the presidential residence
with my wife, Dorrit. We would like you to visit our
home, and we will give you delicious pancakes with
cream and sugar – a traditional Icelandic delicacy.
Because Dorrit favours very much health and good
nutrition, you will also get extraordinary products
from our greenhouses. Then we’ll show you the
landscape, the bird life and the extraordinary light you
can witness in Iceland at this time of year.”
The setting looked official enough, but surely this
had to be a spoof? After all, could you imagine David
Cameron or Angela Merkel doing something similar?
The idea of an established head of state openly
encouraging a group of strangers to come round for a
party is, frankly, preposterous.
Bizarrely, though, the invitation was real: on 11
November, 20 lucky guests got to sample Dorrit’s
pancakes. And the reason for this stunt? It signalled
the start of a tourism drive that has seen Icelanders
head online in their droves to offer equally hospitable
propositions, posting hundreds of video clips on
invitations.inspiredbyiceland.com
, inviting people to
enjoy a foot soak in a geothermal bath, take a bicycle
ride in the frozen countryside, even sample local sushi.
This says a lot about the Icelandic psyche. A tiny
nation with few more than 300,000 inhabitants, most
of whom live in a small corner of this other-worldly
rock
, its blackened lava fields and deep blue fjords,
crashing waterfalls and basalt cliffs feel more like the
setting for a Tolkienesque fantasy filled with elves
and trolls than anywhere on planet earth. When you
also take into account the fact that it’s located on the
64th parallel, as far north as it’s possible for humans
to live comfortably, it’s no surprise the natives know
something about the value of hospitality.
That’s the reason I find myself in the back of a super
Jeep (basically a Humvee-style ride with oversized
wheels, pimped to the max), gunning across the snowy
landscape some 40km east of Reykjavik. I’m here at
the kind behest of a chap called Ragnar, who’d got in
contact a week previously. It’s -14°C outside and the
wind is whipping snow across the windshield. I can’t
see any road beneath us, let alone any road signs but,
remarkably, I actually feel rather safe – and not just
Previous page,
Lake Kleifarvatn
in south-west
Iceland, an area
of hot springs
and weekly
earthquakes.
This page,
clockwise from
right
, the Strokkur
geysir; President
Grimsson’s online
address; a Jeep
tour is a great way
to see the island;
the northern
lights over
Reykjavik
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