Octopussy

Once upon a time Iceland was a colony, a mere slab of land that increased the geographical size of the Kingdom of Denmark. The Danish rulers imposed strict isolation on the island to keep the islanders from getting any ideas. Literally, getting ideas from abroad and becoming aware of any notion that they could change the balance of power.
Luckily, ever so often Algerian, Portuguese and other European fishermen/sailors/pirates managed to mix up the gene pool to prevent the islanders from developing three eyes and extra limbs.
Eventually, as with so many other colonies, the island gained independence. The year was 1944 and some might suggest that the fact that Denmark was occupied by Germany at the time somehow made it easier to secede the union of some 600 years.
As with so many other former colonies, one of the political parties was, and still is, named the Independence Party.
This conservative party has pretty much been in charge ever since. Their politicians read like a family tree and a who's who of Icelandic business. This clique of rulers was aptly nicknamed The Octopus by the public. The name evoking the many arms of society that was governed by a slippery body sitting smack dab in the middle of things.
Cartels, monopolies and nepotism was the preferred way of doing business. Violence was not necessary as it was so simple to ruin a person's reputation and finances in such a small society. It happened to quite a few people. But like anybody in a violent relationship will tell you, you don't see it when it is happening to you.
In 1994 a small window opened up. The island joined the EEA, an economic agreement for the countries that didn't want the full EU membership but kind of wanted to sort of to be part without really being part of it.
And suddenly The Octopus couldn't do whatever they wanted any more. They had to follow international laws and obligations.
The shock. The horror. The newly found principle of competitive pricing.
What? Let the consumers shop where they feel like they are getting the best price?
What? Transparency?
The Icelandic oil companies scoffed and scorned, oil cartels are a well known fact of business and surely this silly little EEA thingy didn't apply to them. And even so, they were good old Octopussy boys, one of them was married to the then minister of Justice (and Ecclesiastical Affairs... "Thou shalt not steal" from the public by keeping petroleum prices unusually high?), surely nothing bad would happen to them? Just to be safe they kept their internal pricing agreements secret and made sure that their friends kept Iceland's Commission on Competitiveness starved for funding and staff.
It was all for naught. Last week the Commission found that the three major oil companies had conspired to keep oil prices high.
All is well that ends well. Or?
The major players in this game have not been sentenced to anything. I doubt they will.
The only one who has taken a real beating over this issue, used to be a Marketing Director at one of the companies before he became the Mayor of Reykjavik. He resigned last Tuesday.
He wasn't the president of a company, nor VP, nor CFO, but Marketing Director. Even though he would have sat in on a few meetings, he would hardly have been considered a major player.
His biggest crime is that he was never in the Independence Party.

Wuthering Heights

It had to happen eventually.
I have been hinting at it, perhaps sowing the seeds subliminally?
There were steps that led to this final decision. The husband and I had already taken certain security measures, promising each other not to use the ladder on our own, to make sure that other people were always present.
But then, the final - inevitable?- step.
Yesterday I wore my helmet indoors all day.

Explanation: I was perched on top of a 2 meter (6.5 feet) ladder painting our 4 meter (13 feet) ceiling.
It is a life long dream come true. Not so much the painting or ladder part, but the crazy high ceiling.
LOVE IT.
I'd paint it with a mascara brush if I'd have to. Considering I hardly use my mascara at all these days, it might be money well spent. How does nearly black sound?
No? Ok. I'll stick with white.

Like seeks Like

Changing our own ways is way way harder than critizing other people's ways. Way.
Just as the US seems to have a grand democratic plan for the rest of the world - to be forced upon people by means of war if necessary (the mother of oxymorons if ever there was one) - democracy seems to be taking a beating in its own back yard.
The Christian Right fails to see the obvious resemblance between them and other fundamentalists. There should be a club, FU (Fundamentalists United - what were you thinking, you dirtyminded you?). FU are the same everywhere, wanting to impose their article of faith onto the articles of law.
It may be difficult for people in the US to see just how seriously threatened their civil liberties are, but it is similarly difficult for us in Iceland to accept that things we consider normal are actually undermining the democracy process.
We are in a continual blind spot when it comes to democracy at home. It is much easier for us to spot the the stains on the US political shirt, to be outraged by human suffering in the Middle East, or shake our heads in disdain for racism on the rise in Europe.
We do not see that we re-elected the very politicians that affixed us to the Coalition of the Willing, making us as culpatory as the people who voted for Bush. We are entirely comfortable with the human suffering inside Icelandic homes. We are totally fine with a law that makes it almost impossible for foreigners to move to Iceland on their own accord, yet easy for Corporations to import low wage workers to do the dirty work, only to be spit out when the job is done.
We are, like, just as bad. Like totally.

Wrapped in Plastic

In Iceland, all magazines are wrapped in plastic to prevent them from being thumbed through by exasperated shoppers waiting while the person in front of them argues with the cashier over the price of sheep heads. But the magazines are nonetheless on display at the register.
Amongst them the latest codswallop of Icelandic male chauvinism. This magazine is probably what most people would consider akin to Playboy on the porn-o-meter. Basically a sad display of women conjuring up the most uncomfortable positions imaginable, interjected with "articles".
A while ago, some FI (Feminists of Iceland) members took to the stores and put stickers on the plastic wrap in protest to have to look at women being degraded every time they shop for food.
This has caused a whirlwind of protests.
To be clear one point, I should say that I don't actually agree with this particular action, simply because as far as publicity goes this one is tricky to defend.
But once again, the reaction is absolutely ridiculous and filled with superlatives. Extremist being a favorite word used to describe FI members.
Extremist?
I find it disturbing that this rather peaceful - perhaps even amusing- action of civil courage against the almighty Krona is perceived as extreme, whilst the human slave trade that feeds the porn industry merely gets a minute lift of an eyebrow.
Extremist?
My point of view, expressed in what is supposed to be a free society, is considered extreme, whilst a whole magazine dedicated to male chauvinism is utterly normal.
Pathetic.