I once had the pleasure of interviewing Swedish actor Stellan Skarsgård when he was filming in Iceland. As we were chatting afterwards, he said something that has stuck with me ever since.

When describing his first impression of the Icelandic people, he said it was notable to how much extent “ordinary” Icelanders participate in cultural events.

I wrinkled my forehead because I didn’t quite understand what he was on about. Then he explained that in his experience, it didn’t matter who he talked to here, everybody had gone to the opera or seen a play at the theatre at some point, gone to all kinds of concerts and dance shows, seen all sorts of art exhibitions and/or read books, actual, real books! Poetry even!

Still a bit confused, I mumbled something about how, in such a small community, arts are probably closer to people, everybody knows someone who’s somehow involved with something and therefore attends some cultural event at least once.

But I was still puzzled at what he was implying. Could it be that somewhere in the western world, people actually don’t go to cultural events like the theatre, ever?

I’d heard of people who don’t like reading books and, without trying to sound arrogant, it is simply beyond my comprehension why anyone who’s literate can’t find something to his or her liking in the literary field.

But to think that someone would go through life without the wonderful magic of the theatre… I was almost horrified! It shouldn’t be an exclusive experience for a small group of people or some kind of elite.

It has nothing to do with class or so-called sophistication, there’s something there that appeals to everybody. People are bound to find something that they like, if they look hard enough.

Theatre is for everybody, even ordinary people like myself, a farm girl from the countryside who was just so lucky to be introduced to the theatre at an early age.

Last week I saw three plays in five days at the National Theatre. This is not especially common for me, though, I just suddenly realized that the new production of King Lear, which I had meant to go see since Christmas, was closing.

And for my niece’s 5th birthday I had given her a trip the theatre two days later, to see a new children’s play. Then I unexpectedly acquired tickets to a dress rehearsal of All My Sons, a play I’d never seen on stage before but had read in English class in college.

But I do go to the theatre quite a bit, actually. Ever since I was six years old and all the children, and some parents, from my small countryside school went on a day trip to Reykjavík to see Pippi Longstockings at the National Theatre.

I thought it was magical. The red carpet in the theatre, the plush, auto-folding seats, the dim-lit balconies, the velvet curtain.

Oh, I remember the excitement in the air, holding my breath when the lights went out, the music ascending from afar and the curtain opening a spectacular make-believe world to me.

I loved it! Instead of buying sweets during the intermission, I persuaded my older sister to buy a poster with a colorful sketch of Pippi’s feet wearing those infamous longstockings.

At home, I demanded the poster be hung up high on the wall in the dining room so I could watch it from the table as I was eating. It hung there for months, if not years, afterwards.

Every other year, my school took daytrips to Reykjavík to attend a show at the National Theatre. And then we would stop somewhere for burgers and fries, which was a real treat back then—and a certain cultural event as well—albeit at the other end of the cultural spectrum, as some might say.

But that was the spark for me. Since then, I’ve always been infatuated with the performing arts. Although I didn’t go to see an opera until many years later and I still haven’t decided whether I like it.

I probably go more often to the cinema than the theatre, but that has more to do with the ticket price and the advantage of spur-of-the-moment decisions that the cinema has over the theatre.

I try to go and see everything I think is worth seeing. I ask around, read reviews, choose a date carefully and ponder over where to sit in the auditorium. Then I dress up a little, even go out for dinner before the show and make a treat out of my theatre trip.

I’ve even gone on my own a few times, it doesn’t bother me at all because the experience is mostly about me and my magical place anyway.

So, I think I’ve come up with a new phrase, I hope it catches on: “Be an Icelander, go to the theatre!”

Ingibjörg Rósa Björnsdóttir – ingibjorgrosa@gmail.com