Sunday, 19-May-2024


Okay so one more museum for today, I swear.

Wait… yeah. Okay, this is definitely the last museum from Sunday the 19th. Had to double-check that.


From the settlement museum, I was a bit overstimulated and stuffed full of new trivia knowledge… I was happy, feeling good, and enjoying my continued wanderings around Reykjavik when I noticed a sign, pointing down a staircase, under the street.

Signs, pointing down staircases, under streets, are a great place to have your kidneys removed. Alternatively, they remind me of the entrance to the Catacombs in Paris, that I didn’t ever get to see since my friends wanted to see Notre Dam, which we could have seen afterward, but no we had to see first, and it had a huge line, and I never got to see the catacombs, and no I’m not still mad about that what makes you think that?


…


I went down the stairs.

The punk museum of Reykjavik lived up to its name.

Punk isn’t about following rules, or fitting in, or even being particularly understandable. It’s about… well, it’s about punk. Pretty sure that, if you asked 10 punks what Punk is about, you’d get 12 different answers and a fist fight.

The punk museum was built in a defunct public restroom. There was a small entryway, with an exceptionally chill dude talking to friends about some upcoming shows. The “Exhibits” were the stalls, plastered with concert posters, facts, and photos… in something vaguely resembling what could be mistaken for a chronological order.

I asked if I had enough time to see everything before he closed up shop, and he looked at me sideways and said, “Man, I’m not gonna kick you out. Have fun, don’t worry about it” and then went back to his conversation.

Hell yeah. I perused, learned a bit (I think?) and simply appreciated that a museum like this could exist. I repeat – Hell. Yeah.