The largest museum in Reykjavik, the National Museum, lies in a sleepy suburb a short walk from the city center, past a picturesque artificial lake flanked by Iceland's poshest houses and the friendly ducks which live on the water. This collection is housed in an exceptionally hideous Soviet-esque building which does no justice to the remarkable assembly inside. Iceland was one of the last parts of the word to be colonized by humans and the museum's material is arranged chronologically from the settlement a millennia ago to the modern day. When walking past the many beautiful artifacts on display it is clear that Iceland is a country with an exceptionally rich historic material culture. A thread of artistic creativity running through Icelandic history is illustrated by sumptuous realia; intricately carved horns, richly embroidered clothing and painting of astounding beauty. When in Reykjavik, I recommend setting aside a good few hours to explore this striking, starkly beautiful collection at leisure.
Below is a beautifully carved and painted representation of the time Jesus was pulled over for drunk driving:
Though the collection inside the Reykjavik Cultural House is not of so consistently high quality as the National Museum it is a relatively cheap next stop with some absolutely must see material. Undoubtedly, the jewel in the crown of this assemblage is the exhibition of historic manuscripts on the ground floor. Many of the most important surviving works of Icelandic literature can be seen here including a beautiful illustration of the laws of the national commonwealth and the earliest surviving copy of Njal's saga dating to the 15th c. Both are shown below.
As in the National Museum, the Cultural House's collection is arranged chronologically. On the first, second and third floors pleasantly folksy paintings of ships, the sea, mountains and such tried and true material give way to painfully hip modern art. On a television screen a shaven headed yob angrily shouts "You talkin' to me?!" ad infinitum across the room from pink bean bags in the shapes of unborn children and tits. Any trip to the Cultural House really can be considered complete without a sortie to the uppermost floor.
On Sunday afternoon we climbed to the top of the Perlan on the hill Oskjuhilo in the centre of Reykjavik. One of the most distinctive, if not attractive, buildings in Reykjavik; the Perlan is an overwhelmingly eighties complex comprising of a high tower encircled by six cylindrical water drums. Recently one of the water towers was emptied for a Saga-themed wax model museum which we felt looked too cheesy and expensive to visit. However, I don't regret taking an hour out to climb the Oskjuhilo; from the roof it is possible to see right across the city to the coast.
On the path down the hill we walked past some fabricated geysers. Quite why a person would pay to fly hundreds of miles to a country where the real things exist naturally in order to visit these I am not sure. Nevertheless, they had attracted a small crowd of morons. Natural geysers are incredible; I will describe them later in my blog. The faux-geysers of Reykjavik will not be new to anybody who has noticed it is possible to adjust the water pressure of hoses.
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