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Vice Blog

SNOOPING AROUND GIMLI, NEW ICELAND

Gimli became New Iceland in 1875 when the Icelanders, so proud of their literacy rate, actually debated leaving children for books when packing their boats to leave their eruption-exploded island. They respect the Huldufolk (Hidden People, or Elves...

Icelanders are taking over Manitoba. The once-glamorous country that is now officially bankrupt has been losing its citizens to Canada for over 100 years, and Manitoba now hosts roughly 88,000 of these Goolies (a derogatory term for Icelandic Canadians, probably coined by their emigrant rivals, the Ukrainians), which is crazy because that's practically a third of Iceland's entire population. Gimli is a town an hour north of Winnipeg and is known to most as a beach town, a good day trip, a place to see rural Manitoban culture at its finest. Surrounded by Manitoba's conservative farmers, Gimli stands out like a blond thumb on a ginger hand. It's Viking territory, and is proud to capitalize on its reputation as such. But to understand more about this off-beat subculture of the central Canadian plains, a culture to which I am proud to represent, you need to understand the Motherland: Iceland. Gimli became Nyja Iceland (New Iceland) in 1875 when the Icelanders, so proud of their literacy rate, actually debated leaving children for books when packing their boats to leave their eruption-exploded island.

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Iceland is known for its cuisine of harsh meats and layered date cakes, bookworm tendencies, Norse mythology, and Icelandic Sagas. Although there is a Lutheran National Church of Iceland, most would consider themselves a part of the Ásatrúarfélagið (the Asatru Association, pronounced au:satru) which basically means, in the words of local Icelandic Canadian film maker Guy Maddin, "they're a bunch of Pagans for crying out loud."

Pagan traditions and beliefs are everywhere in Icelandic culture. Legends of the underworld are passed down from generation to generation through women like Elva Simundsson. A typical Icelander and resident of Gimli, she fed me a hot cup of coffee then humourlessly told stories of the Huldufolk population in the New Iceland area. Things learned from Elva: Huldufolk (Hidden People) (or Alfar [Elves]) live in a parallel dimension from our human one. They are very-well dressed, ruled by a Queen, like the color blue, and live in rocks. Not in a group of rocks, not under rocks, but

in

rocks. When asked if she herself had seen them she responded, "No, but that doesn't mean they aren't there--this isn't the only universe and we are so arrogant to think that it is." The Huldufolk are not just a strong part of Icelandic culture, they actually influence the decisions in Iceland's infrastructure. You wouldn't want to lay concrete on a village of invisibles, would you?

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Investigating the Huldufolk more, I was told to go to Gimli's "normal school" to get the full story. Now used as municipal offices, the "normal school" used to be an elementary school and the home of some Huldufolk that emigrated with the first settlers. Local celebrities Snorri and Sneibjorn took up residence in the school and attempted to demolish it by taking out a brick from the center of the building (expecting it to crumble to the ground). Now, invisible people tampering with building supports in an effort to murder children is generally a nightmare scenario, but not in Gimli! Instead of replacing the brick or not believing in elves, they have bordered the missing brick as a constant reminder that the Huldufolk are there, even if you can't see them.

This is Bryna Thoren, a cute Icelandic Gimli resident. Looking particularly serious (brooding is a common Icelandic trait), she was on her way to deliver the local chow, hardfiskur (pronounced

harthfiskur

) to her Amma (grandmother). Hardfiskur is dried out white fish, jerky style that is best enjoyed covered in butter. You'll find this snack at every grocery store and watering hole in town, including the brand new (and only chain) Sobey's. In the background is the town's monument, a 15-foot statue of a Viking, one of the town's main tourist attractions. Local pre-pubes gather here and get Manitoba-social drunk off Brennevin, a foul tasting, cheap Icelandic liquor. Hanging around in the cold by the dirty lake isn't the only form of nightlife Gimli has going for it. On a Saturday night most will head to The Viking, the only dance bar in town which brings a variety of customers, from freshly legal farmers to middle-aged single moms.

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Last Saturday night these local celebrities,

The Paps

("Four talented Gimli High School girls in love with rock n roll like woah," says their MySpace) performed at The Viking. Formerly the Papsmears, their mainstream indie rock sound doesn't quite suit the harshness of their name, but they're the only local music act in Gimli so they get all the gigs they want.

This is Marianne Johansson and Evan Finney. They own and operate The Gimli Hotel, otherwise known as "the Oldie." Walking amongst Gimli's blond-haired, blue-eyed population can feel a little like you're in Village of the Damned, so these two stick out like a sore thumb. People used to come to the beverage room for afternoon cocktails, VLTs, and hardcore porn. They've gotten rid of the porn but they do serve an excellent borscht. "It's the oldest place in town and we've been here the longest!" says Finney. The décor has never changed, and the tables are still covered in carpet. [caption id="attachment_6779" align="alignleft" width="231" caption="Photo donated by Elva Simundsson. 1924 Fjallkona, Sigrun Lindal"]

[/caption] Each year Gimli hosts Islendingadagurinn, the Icelandic festival and the second oldest continuous ethnic festival in North America. This is when the town goes crazy. The weekend is jam-packed with competitions and events; highlights include Frisnock tournaments, Viking villages, and a big social. It's also the time when they crown the Fjallkona (Maid of the Mountain). The woman elected must be very active in the community, actively bridging the gap between Iceland and the people of Icelandic descent in the Manitoba. She wears an elaborate costume that has strong Icelandic significance: her pointy sharp crown represents the ice, her green cape represents the fields of Iceland, and the black and white fur trim represents the mountains. Two young girls accompany her as she sits on a throne for a ceremony performed by Icelandic Consulate. So medieval, just like believing that people live in rocks. Guess that's how you thrive in an incredibly bleak prairie that nobody else wanted.