[Q] - There is no daytime TV in Iceland. Parents are at work and
children at school, so the test card, that feature of a bygone age, is
the only thing aired. For the transmitters to be switched on in mid-
afternoon and a sombre-looking Geir Haarde, the prime minister, to
appear behind a desk, a national flag at his side, it had to be
serious – and it was. The country was on the verge of bankruptcy; the
government was taking control of the banks and was going to assume far-
reaching powers to secure the safety of the nation and its savers.

As I watched, I felt a detached sympathy for those poor people living
on a blighted island – until it dawned on me that I was one of them.
Recent events had savaged my net worth by 60 per cent and pushed up my
cost of living by more than 20 per cent. Iceland’s plight was mine,
too. What I failed to appreciate at the time was the emotion of this
unprecedented television address, particularly in the way it finished:

“Fellow countrymen ... If there was ever a time when the Icelandic
nation needed to stand together and show fortitude in the face of
adversity, then this is the moment. I urge you all to guard that which
is most important in the life of every one of us, to protect those
values which will survive the storm now beginning. I urge families to
talk together and not to allow anxiety to get the upper hand, even
though the outlook is grim for many. We need to explain to our
children that the world is not on the edge of a precipice, and we all
need to find an inner courage to look to the future ... Thus with
Icelandic optimism, fortitude and solidarity as weapons, we will ride
out the storm.

“God bless Iceland.”

Edda, my partner, was in tears on the sofa beside me.

A drive across town later that afternoon, October 6, at first gave
grounds for comfort. The roads were as full as usual for the Reykjavik
rush-hour – a half-hour build-up of traffic. Aircraft flew in and out
of the downtown airport, students made their way home from schools and
universities – note the plural – while visitors went to hospitals and
fitness fiends to sports clubs. Reykjavik showed all the outward
appearances of carrying on.

But a different picture began to emerge from the hourly news bulletins
on the car radio. The Icelandic krona’s freeze in the capital markets
had now spilled over into the day-to-day transactions of Icelanders
abroad. Holidaymakers and business travellers venturing “til Útlanda”,
as it is called, found their credit cards refused, and those wishing
to buy foreign currency could not find willing sellers, aside from one
or two who limited their purchases to €200.

[...]

“Let me get lunch,” I said, fumbling in my handbag for my wallet.
“Your bank’s just gone bust after all.” But old habits die hard and
anyway, the Icelandic banker wanted to find out if his company credit
card still worked. He handed it over and drummed his fingers nervously
on the bar in the gloomy City pub, writes Sarah O’Connor.

The payment went through. And with a whimper – two sandwiches and two
lemonades – the bank’s six-year debt-fuelled spending spree sputtered
to a stop. The next day his card was refused.

http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/66c87994-aec1-11dd-b621-000077b07658.html?nclick_check=1

Not a bad idea to read the whole thing. You know, to get a leg up.
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