2013-05-20T08:57:37-04:00 Rupert Murray http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/author/index.php?author=rupert-murray Copyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc. HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Rupert Murray Good old fashioned elbow grease. tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1347156 2012-03-15T09:33:31-04:00 2012-05-15T05:12:01-04:00

Rupert Murray http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rupert-murray/
I had heard the mayor, Jon Gnarr, is a bit special but I didn't realize just how well known or admired he is. One of his guests Markus, a city planner from Switzerland, had come to meet his hero having seen him in a documentary aptly named Gnarr at a film festival, as had some of the others.



Jon Gnarr is one of Iceland's most famous comedians and an ex-punk rocker who ran for office on a series of nonsensical campaign promises, including bizarre things such as promising to give out free towels at swimming pools. His last pledge was to break every promise he had made and when he was surprisingly elected to office after the crash of 2008 he did exactly that. He is now rated as one of the most trusted politicians in Iceland.





During the event Mayor Gnarr seemed to have his mind on other things as befits a busy politician, but he was brilliantly funny about his manifesto and campaign. He told us how at the next election he was going to whine and beg to be re-elected, cry on television pleading with Icelanders to re-elect him. Markus reiterated a good point made by Gnarr which sort of forms the basis for his campaign. Why can't politicians be more honest about the lies they tell? In fact why can't they just be more honest full stop.

Everyone sat down to sushi and I was ushered out by Gnarr's burly gatekeeper as he felt it would be impolite to film the mayor and his guest whilst they were eating. After they had finished I interviewed some of the diners who were recent Iceland converts. Adrienne Grierson thought Iceland was the best place on the planet and has gone so far as to move here permanently. I asked her what she liked about this strange little island and she immediately banged on about the people being so irreverent, unique, independent etc. She didn't mention the natural world once. I had to agree with her; Iceland may have brochures abounding with extreme activities but you can have just as good a time hanging out with the locals just picking mussels, or eating sushi or having a hot tub. That is, if they invite you. An invitation helps and this is what is so brilliant about the Inspired by Iceland campaign. You can mainline directly into pure Icelandic culture through facebook.



On the subject of sushi, I would like to mention that sushi from Icelandic fisheries is very sustainable because unlike the EU they manage their stocks sensibly. I spent a little bit of time making a film called The End of the Line which tells the story of what havoc we have wreaked upon the sea by over fishing and strangely enough when I searched 'Iceland sustainable fisheries' the first site that came up mentioned my film in the first sentence. Nice one! I have a copy of the film on DVD and plan to give it to the President.

We said goodbye to the mayor and his henchman and headed to our hotel to prepare for the weekend. I wanted to see a bit of the cool Iceland so the lovely Hera, from Promote Iceland, sent me to an art party. Here, blisteringly hip young things shuffled about on bare floor boards drinking some lethal punch, running their fingers through their tightly cropped hair as only young people can. The art was great and a crazy little band was playing in a corner, in a sort of performance art way. Suddenly you realize how much this place has to offer and that even with a tiny population of only three hundred thousand people and stuck out here in the middle of the North Atlantic they still manage to keep up with their more populous, well known neighbours in the culture stakes. ]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1337477 2012-03-11T10:00:05-04:00 2012-05-11T05:12:03-04:00

Rupert Murray http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rupert-murray/



Top to bottom, hot bath, A Zimbabwean New Yorker whose name I've forgotten, Jacob Chila, and the glorious Viking brew

We arrived early at a garage outside Reykjavik which was all festooned in party paraphernalia. We immediately tucked into the thirst quenching Viking lager. A very cheerful Zimbabwean (by way of New York) showed off the best off his newly adopted country by coming up with advertising slogans for Viking Lager. I think we came up with something like 'Need a wife? Drink Viking and kidnap with confidence'. Oh how we laughed, but there's a serious side to our jocularity.

The Icelandic gene pool is very limited, so much so that they sell themselves as a scientific research resource. Icelanders are about 50% Scandinavian and 50% Celtic and not much else because before settling here just over 1000 years ago the Vikings trawled the villages of Scotland and Ireland kidnapping the most attractive women to bring here as wives/slaves. In fact the men are still genetically more Scandinavian and the women are still more Celtic. Amazing.



Top to bottom, Jon and his Viking mates, two ladies whose ancestors might have been Vikings

Jon had tastefully laid out some Viking helmets complete with plaited blonde hair coming out either side. He welcomed us warmly in his speech and then we all tucked into the amazing spread. Jacob, a very funny 19 year old American student studying Icelandic, finally started chatting up the girls at the party but not before he had steeled himself with several cans of Viking.

Chantal the photographer and I had to run off to the next event: bedtime storytelling at the Iceland Air hotel Natura in Reykjavik. Storytelling, ghost stories, and sagas are ever present here, especially to tourists, but they give you an insight into Iceland's dark ages. At this time Iceland was the poorest country in Europe and they had to eke out a living from whatever they could lay their hands on.



Top to bottom, Bedtime Storyteller, and right , meanwhile the Viking is working its magic

Our bearded storyteller regaled the pajama clad visitors with tales of elves and trolls. I have to admit I did fall asleep at the back, cradling my camera in my arms like a baby. His dulcet tones blended with the Viking beer and the hors d'oeuvres to make the perfect sedative. Chantal woke me up and we went back to the party which was winding down. We gave the partygoers a lift back into town where they continued their merriments and we went back to the hotel to hit the hay.

I wondered rather randomly if we have another word in the English language for sleep, other than slang like shuteye. I did a search and found this in the thesaurus; a natural periodic suspension of consciousness during which the powers of the body are restored, characterized by lessened consciousness and slowed-down metabolism. Sounds good to me.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1316073 2012-03-02T10:04:07-05:00 2012-05-02T05:12:01-04:00

Rupert Murray http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rupert-murray/
On the drive out there we were surrounded by a huge lava field of indiscriminate age. Well, it looked new but is very old, if you know what I mean. It was broken and covered with moss. As I looked out of the window I imagined that all earth or soil is just millions of years of moss and forests built up on top of lava. But here in Iceland you can see it in its initial state. Iceland really lets you know that we live on a planet; it reminds you how connected we are to the land. The way the lava fields crumpled and broke over each other reminded me of something John Ruskin, the 19th century artist who championed the idea of the sublime, wrote about the earth. He asked if the geology and landscape all around us is in it's prime state or is it the ruins of something great from the past, is it the wreck of paradise? Iceland shows you that it's always been a wreck, from the moment of creation onwards, and that paradise, is in fact, a building site.



About half an hour out of Reykjavik we parked and waited for the hikers by the allotted roundabout.



Robert, below left, of the previous day's 'Footbath with Minister' fame, arrived at the hike but hadn't been to bed yet. Despite the Icelandic Schnapps known as 'Black Death' I imagined still pounding through his head he was still standing on a mountain in the rather chilly early morning drizzle without even a hat. I asked him if he was up for some more outdoor experiences and he just said, 'I'll do anything,' and I knew that he really meant it. He would do anything, probably without even knowing what the thing was. I like that attitude. I pressed Rob further and he came up with a terrific idea; caving inside a lava tunnel outside of Reykjavik. I plan to organise it and luckily it's not weather dependent.



Anyway, Martin took one look at the hike and said, "Er, maybe I'll be here for 10 minutes and then we can go to the farm?" At this point I surprised myself by saying "I'm up for doing a bit of the hike'. Seemed rude not to. So we set off on a black volcanic track carved into moss covered mountains with some nice people and three dogs. We did about ten minutes and then turned back. Off to the farm.



After a two hour drive Martin, Gunnar and I arrived at some windswept farm buildings to be greeted by a strong smell of lamb. This time (unlike Frosti's dinner party) the smell was of raw lamb, or rather raw sheep, as there were a large selection of body parts on display in the kitchen. Stomachs, blood, mashed up liver, heads cut in half; all ready to go into the oven. It was, as I said, quite a strong smell. We were met by the charming and lovely Arnheidur who lives on the farm with her husband and extended family. She had two invites; Mussel picking down by the seashore and sheep shearing. Today they were preparing 'slátur' or 'slowter' as it sounds in English, which is Icelandic haggis and black pudding. We met her husband shearing the sheep which was great and I filmed the sheep with their incredible long wool being shorn before we tucked into our meal of haggis, black pudding and sheep's heads.





So, the haggis was excellent and the black pudding was really good but I do have to admit to having a few problems with the sheep's head. Every time I looked at the jaw bone and teeth on the plate an image of the sheep that I had just filmed nibbling on the hay jumped into my head. Helped by the fact that we were also watching sheep shearing videos with a Shawn the Sheep soundtrack. When Arnheidur picked up a flute and played to us all, I felt much better. It was lovely. I can't wait to go back and film the mussel picking in the 'Whale's Fjord'. I really liked Arnheidur and her whole family and it should be really good fun.

]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1293132 2012-02-22T06:14:10-05:00 2012-04-23T05:12:01-04:00

Rupert Murray http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rupert-murray/
Day 1
I've arrived here in Iceland with what I consider a daunting task; to capture the spirit of a nation. This may not be exactly the brief, but this is what I am going to attempt to record. If I can get a sense of what Icelanders are really like, this will hopefully make for a good film.

I am here to film a series of unique 'Inspired by Iceland' events, whereby Icelanders from all walks of life throw their doors open to the world and allow visitors to sample a slice of real Icelandic life and hopefully in turn experience something that makes this country so special.

This morning I drove along a windswept peninsular for the first 'invitation' to meet with the Minister of Tourism, Energy and Industry for a footbath by the sea. I didn't realise what was so special about a footbath in driving rain until I felt the water. It was about 35 degrees Centigrade. This was a very pleasant contrast to the horizontal freezing rain hitting my face at about 30 miles an hour.

In an averaged-sized country, a portfolio as extensive as Toursim, Energy and Industry would most probably mean that the Minister would be far too busy to spare their time for events such as this, but here in Iceland, where the population is only 318,000, the footbath was given priority. Katrin Juliuspottir was as warm, charming and nonchalant as all government officials should be everywhere.

After five minutes of sheltering behind some sort of water pumping hut (probably geothermal), we began to worry that no one would turn up because of the severe conditions but we didn't count on the Australians. Soon enough a game Aussie called Robert arrived on his bike. 'Let's have that footbath shall we?' he said, gamely. And so everyone hopped in a very small, nondescript rock pool, buffeted by what felt like gale force winds and began enjoying an experience that I think you could only enjoy here. No one else would be mad enough to try.


From left to right, the Minister Katrin Juliuspottir, Kristjan from Islenska, very nice chap whose name I can't remember, and on the end Gunnar who is helping me out and driving me around. We've become close friends.



You've gotta love the Australians- no nation is more up for an outdoor experience.



This photo doesn't capture the pain I was feeling in my fingers, obviously, but the people with their feet in the water were having a ball.



OK ball is pushing it maybe, rewarding experience definitely, Martin from the Sunday Times on right, having a go.



I think this picture speaks for itself.

After saying our goodbyes it was time to go across town and meet Frosti who had advertised 'Dinner with a gay couple' on the Inspired By Iceland website. I suppose he had to make sure like-minded people replied to his invitation but it just felt like 'Dinner with some lovely people', if that doesn't sound too syrupy.

Frosti cooked up a storm, particularly the leg of Icelandic lamb that smelled absolutely delicious. I was starving but it was quite difficult to say 'Any chance I could have a bit' as I was filming, so I'd have to do it subtely. I'm as keen on my tucker as the next person but the aromas wafting around the flat were really something else, and most importantly it smelled of... home. No restaurant could ever conjure up a fragrance that welcoming. Apparently they have very few fences in Iceland so the sheep roam free across the open moors, making them taste more like game.

Then the Inspired By Iceland guests, Marion from Paris and Suzanne from Ireland arrived. They had come to Iceland to see a Bjork gig and were very excited to see Frostis invitation on the website. Despite the fact that they had never met Frosti and his partner before they all seemed to get on like a house on fire. I filmed some warm laughter and the beginning of the meal as they tucked into Frosti's amazing lamb. Luckily Frosti had spotted me salivating, at the meal, and he gave me a taster, of the lamb. I know that a camera pointing in your face at the table can put you off your food so I made my excuses and packed up the gear. I should have stayed as apparently they all had a mad night out in Reykjavik afterwards.



Frosti hard at work



The sweet potatoes and broccoli in the dish to his left, your right, were excellent.



A good time was had by all.



Gunnar my driver and now close friend, standing in for the minister before her interview.

After leaving Frosti's I was still feeling a bit peckish so on the way to the hotel Gunnar took me to Reykjavik's most famous hotdog stand and we had a delicious frankfurter with the works to round off the evening. Gunnar told me that Bill Clinton had come here in 1988 and as he showed me the obligatory picture on the wall of the President munching on a sausage he said 'Three weeks later he had a heart attack'. Not the best post-prandial conversation starter, but at least it stopped me from having seconds. I tried to gauge my first experiences with Icelanders; they were a hardy people, charming, open and friendly, sometimes blunt and to the point and they enjoyed good food. I realised I was having a great time, and when I'm enjoying myself some of the joie de vivre often finds its way onto the final film, which is what the trip is all about.

Over the following two weeks I'll be recording as many of my experiences as I can on film as well as through stills and my blog. Get involved and reply to an invitation on www.inspiredbyiceland.com, to experience haggis making, ice diving, or sheep herding with a complete stranger. Although if today is anything to go by they won't stay a stranger for long.]]>