Icelandic people are hard to find in downtown Reykjavik. In a lot of restaurants and shops we visited, I’d ask the person working if they were Icelandic, and for the most part, they were from other European countries. I wondered where they all were.

We rented a car through Atak to go to the east side of the island, and the man working at the front desk was extremely helpful when the car we were supposed to rent didn’t return on time. He was working alone and visibly juggling a lot, but he managed to help get us on the road without much delay, despite all cars being booked out. When we returned, we needed a shuttle back to the hostel, so he ended up driving us to get a break away from the desk. 

Upon discovering he was a native Icelander, I asked a question I had been burning to ask since we arrived:

“I have a question for you! Please be super honest - I can handle it! How does the tourism industry impact Icelandic people?”

“I used to live in the city center, right next to Hallgrimskirkja. The best location in Reykjavik.” He replied. “I used to go downstairs every day of the week after work to meet friends and we’d walk five minutes to a local bar, putting back into my economy. My friends are all musicians, painters, artists, creative-minded people. One day, my landlord gave everyone a notice saying in two months, the entire building would become an Airbnb and that everyone needed to find a new home.”

I was taken aback hearing this. But let him continue before asking more questions. 

“Now I live by work, multiple kilometers outside of city center. I have no car and the bus ends at 11pm. Taxis are extremely expensive, so I can only see my friends about a quarter of the amount I used to.” 

At this point, we parked outside of our hostel and he kindly continued our conversation.

“I have a friend who owns 11 different bars, cafés, an old-school arcade, all operating at a loss due to inflation. And whenever one needs to come up for rent, he refuses to lease the space to puffin shops.” He scoffed.

He explained that “puffin shop” is a derogatory term Icelanders use for tourist shops that sell stuffed puffins and viking helmets throughout Reykjavik.  

The conversation switched a little bit to his own actions as a traveler. He said that he lived in Copenhagen for a while, so he visits every year. But his friend recently lost his apartment to Airbnb, so he paid more to stay at a guesthouse that was twice as expensive and wasn’t nearly as nice as Airbnb, just out of principle.

“Yes, there are good parts of tourism, but all locals who keep getting pushed out to suburbs are affected by one word. Airbnb.”

I asked him about the arcade he mentioned earlier that was functioning at a loss and what other local Icelandic-run companies we should consider supporting while there. 

“The old arcade is called Freddi. My friend also owns the Punk Museum downtown -  he’s a very punk-minded guy. He also owns Prikid and on the first day back to school, he offers free burgers and fries to all the kids.” 

“Reykjavik is losing its culture fast. People are being pushed out to the suburbs and it’s all catering to tourism. Laugevegur up and down is all puffin shops now.”

We thanked him for taking the time to share his perspective with us.

Tourism is indeed a two-sided coin. On one side, tourism can stimulate the local economy. However, while tourism brings money, small countries like Iceland with a population around 330,000 are continually swamped by tourists. Approximately 2 million tourists were expected in the year 2018 alone. It’s important to stay informed about the impacts your vacation has on the local people and the environment. Iceland is a trip for me, but it’s home to someone else.