An old turf-roofed sheep barn is, to them, still a turf-roofed sheep barn.
If that sounds like an extraordinary sense of memory, think of this: people keep it around, too.
It’s something about reverence.
And thanks. Yeeha!Some is still very much alive. (Note as well the turf house, towards you from the house just behind the hill, and the other old buildings along the slope to the right.) When the whole country is a museum, that people live in, even the two-legged sort, it’s not a museum. It’s a place stripped of what doesn’t belong. That junk is put into second hand shops in Reykjavik, in the hope that people from far away are going to take it back with them where it came from.