The houses in Reykjavík and the surrounding towns are all heated with geothermal water. Until recently, most of the water has been acquired by drilling close to Reykjavík, even within the city's boundaries. In the 1980s, however, work began on a new power plant close to Þingvellir, around 50km from Reykjavík. The Nesjavellir Power Plant was formally opened in September 1990. The 200 degrees Celsius water is not led directly to the houses in Reykjavík, but used to warm up cold water that then is used for heating, bathing etc. A visit to the power plant is extremely informative, as is designed with its informative value in mind. You can learn about geothermal activity in general and the history of its usage in general as well as getting practical information about this particular power station. The surrounding area is unique and beautiful. Since the building of the plant, the hills and mountains around have been made accessible for hiking and the road 'Nesjavallavegur', between Nesjavellir and Reykjavík is well worth driving along. There are now plans to use the energy in Nesjavellir to produce electricity as well.
TÝSgallerí was established to showcase contemporary artworks by both budding and established artists. Its curators select works only of local artists and, hence, the paintings and sculptures display a distinct Icelandic sensibility. The art and craft items are minimalist in nature and draw inspiration from modern lifestyles. This gallery emphasizes on solo rather than group exhibitions so that each artist gains prominence and can enjoy maximum interaction with visitors. The exhibitions change every month and there is always something new to look forward to during a fresh visit.
One of the most iconic sculptures of the city, Memorial To The Unknown Bureaucrat (Óþekkti Embættismaðurinn) is a satirical take on the role of a government official. Chiselled by local sculptor, Magnús Tómasson in 1994, it portrays a suited man with a briefcase from waist down, while the upper body is covered with a huge slab of rock. Caricatural and thought-provoking, the faceless official is a reminder of how trivial an existence is that of an administrator. No one remembers an official as a person but only as a means due to his or her post.