Big, bold headlines with the word
IJsland somewhere amongst other Dutch words are no longer to be found on front pages of newspapers. No longer are there articles, written by bitter owners of IceSave accounts, requesting that
de blonde IJslandse meisjes, the blond Icelandic girls, work for the debts of the nation by baby-sitting, gardening or free prostitution (is that a value exchange?). But the news of our financial crash are nowhere near to be forgotten. Lectures of school give me the
poor girl-look, wedding guests in Germany make jokes about the deceased economy of Iceland and Mahir from the Tyrkish Café on the ground floor of my flat just laughs, shakes his head and puts my money back in my bag when I insist on paying for my coffee. Then he brings me a beer and says: "Save your money, little girl. Don't worry, be happy!"
At least I'm not chased out of bag-shops on
Strøget...