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History's greatest real estate swindlers, the Vikings, knew well the power of marketing.
As the story goes, they long ago stumbled upon two islands in the North Atlantic, the larger of which was mostly covered with ice. They wanted to lure settlers there, so they gave it the egregiously misleading name, Greenland. The smaller of the islands was mostly green, and they wanted to be left alone there. To keep others away, they called it Iceland.
At least that's the way I've always heard it. Alas, while the Greenland part of the story holds up pretty well, the Iceland part is probably an urban legend. The way Icelanders tell it, an early Viking settler spent a miserable, shivering winter there, and as he sailed away, never to return, he gave it the frostiest name he could think of.
Never over-verify a good story, as a wise man once said. On the other hand, if things were always as we believed, there'd be little point in ever leaving home. So what follows are a few of the things I discovered in Iceland. Nearly everyone who visits Iceland discovers these same things, and it should be noted that Icelanders are a little tired of having them pointed out. Nevertheless:
-- They believe in fairies.
Icelanders are probably the most educated people on the planet, with a 99. 9 percent literary rate, and nearly one in 10 ends up writing a book during his lifetime. Yet, according to the Icelandic Tourism Board, 90 percent of them take fairies, elves, trolls and other manifestations of huldufolk -- "hidden people" -- quite seriously.
One day, as my tour bus passed a hillside littered with stones, the guide told us this was the domain of some huldufolk. They live among the boulders, she said, and look like humans, with fair hair and blue eyes that have no irises. Her tone of voice suggested that this information was as factual as anything she'd told us about geysers or glaciers.
"If you ask Icelandic people if they believe in the hidden people," she said, "they would say yes without thinking twice."
Public engineers routinely reroute roads, pipelines and underground cables to avoid disturbing fairy habitat, often at considerable expense. Construction of golf courses and even harbors have come to a standstill when the wee folk appear to have been offended, and a woman named Erla Stefansdottir, who claims to be able to communicate with them, is frequently consulted by the Reykjavik city planning department.
Just last year, President Olafur Ragnar Grimsson told a visiting correspondent: "You have to realize that for a thousand years the total population of Iceland was only about 70 to 80 thousand people. So people enlarged the population by thinking about elves and fairies and trolls that inhabited fjords and valleys and mountains, so even in the dark days of winter in the isolated parts, they knew they had company. And we still believe that in this country we have company, so give them my greetings when you see them."
-- They eat revolting things.
And by this I don't just mean hrutspungur, which are pickled ram's testicles; or svio, a sheep's head that's been singed to remove the wool, then cut in half, boiled, and either eaten fresh -- eyes included -- or pressed into jelly; or slatur, Iceland's version of haggis: sheep innards tied up in sheep's stomach and cooked.
All these things sound like lip-smacking treats compared to the notorious hakarl, Greenland shark that has been buried in sand for four to six months until it's good and putrefied. Then it's dug up, hung on a hook a few more days for a final rot and then served to a presumably ravenous public.
Actually, while it's not hard to find Scots who claim to enjoy haggis, I never talked to a single Icelander who described hakarl as anything less than stomach-turning. "It's disgusting!" said the young woman at the tourist information counter. "It tastes like something died in your mouth." "One little bite and you can't get the ammonia taste out of your mouth for a day and a half!" chimed in her colleague. I couldn't help noticing that both were smiling. Icelanders seem to take perverse pleasure in forcing down a little hakarl.
Here's how the sensation of eating it was described in the Reykjavik City Guide, one of those relentlessly boosterish publications you find in your hotel room: "disbelief...you feel violated and wonder if you will live," followed by "lasting psychological damage." (It should be pointed out that Icelanders, even those in tourism promotion, have a delightfully twisted sense of humor.)
Just as haggis is meant to be consumed with a stiff shot of single malt, hakarl needs a chaser of an Icelandic spirit called Brennivin, appropriately nicknamed "Black Death." I was actually planning on putting myself through the ordeal -- the things I do for you readers! -- when I discovered, to my considerable relief, that hakarl is usually available only during the Porrablot festival in February.
At least that's what one person told me, and I thought it wise not to over-verify
They're obsessed about our obsession about their sex lives.
It's been going on for a while, but the latest round started, as all cultural phenomena seem to do these days, with Oprah. Back in April, on a show about women around the world, a Reykjavik anchorwoman, Swanhildur Valsdottir, got everyone in a lather by saying, in front of an audience of 30 million people, that Icelandic women didn't consider it any big deal to sleep with someone on the first date.
Icelandic feminists were outraged, angry letters poured in to newspapers and Valsdottir was vilified for perpetuating promiscuous stereotypes.
In the middle of the flap, the Grapevine, an excellent, irreverent, English-language Reykjavik tabloid (and my main source on this topic) published the results of a 2004 global survey by Durex, the world's largest manufacturer of condoms. On all the major benchmarks of sexual behavior, the paper reported, Iceland was at or near the top of the list. Perhaps understandably, this didn't calm anyone down.
The Oprah episode came as Iceland was just getting over an ill-considered 2003 Icelandair advertising campaign urging British tourists to come and "have a one-night stand," "have a dirty weekend" and "pester a beauty queen." One ad showed three obviously naked women cuddling together in an oversized Icelandic sweater. Women's groups filed a complaint and the airline eventually ditched the ads.
Coincidentally or not, the Grapevine reported, Icelandic tourism rose sharply after the ads, especially among the British.
...Greenland shark that has been buried in sand for four to six months until it's good and putrefied. Then it's dug up, hung on a hook a few more days for a final rot and then served to a presumably ravenous public...
Excuse me, I think I need to throw up...
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-- They believe in fairies.
Icelanders are probably the most educated people on the planet, with a 99. 9 percent literary rate, and nearly one in 10 ends up writing a book during his lifetime. Yet, according to the Icelandic Tourism Board, 90 percent of them take fairies, elves, trolls and other manifestations of huldufolk -- "hidden people" -- quite seriously.
My family sets out a dish for them weekly.
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-- They believe in fairies.
Icelanders are probably the most educated people on the planet, with a 99. 9 percent literary rate, and nearly one in 10 ends up writing a book during his lifetime. Yet, according to the Icelandic Tourism Board, 90 percent of them take fairies, elves, trolls and other manifestations of huldufolk -- "hidden people" -- quite seriously.
My family sets out a dish for them weekly.
I have given a one-eyed beggar money before, just in case it's really Odin in traveling garb.
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I have given a one-eyed beggar money before, just in case it's really Odin in traveling garb.-- They believe in fairies.
Icelanders are probably the most educated people on the planet, with a 99. 9 percent literary rate, and nearly one in 10 ends up writing a book during his lifetime. Yet, according to the Icelandic Tourism Board, 90 percent of them take fairies, elves, trolls and other manifestations of huldufolk -- "hidden people" -- quite seriously.
My family sets out a dish for them weekly.
I wouldn't put it past him.
I have given a one-eyed beggar money before, just in case it's really Odin in traveling garb.-- They believe in fairies.
Icelanders are probably the most educated people on the planet, with a 99. 9 percent literary rate, and nearly one in 10 ends up writing a book during his lifetime. Yet, according to the Icelandic Tourism Board, 90 percent of them take fairies, elves, trolls and other manifestations of huldufolk -- "hidden people" -- quite seriously.
My family sets out a dish for them weekly.
What if he's carrying a conch horn and a trident?
My wife read something about Iceland the other day. It claimed that the vast majority of Icelanders are related and that the government maintains a large database of geneological information. The database is open to the public to look up family ancestry.
Have you ever heard about this?
Yes, my brother.
Skaal!
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Being 60% Irish, 20% German, and 20% Scandinavian, I've heard all of this before. And for some reason, it doesn't bug me in the slightest. I can dig fairies and gross food is fine. And hey, what's wrong with sleeping with someone on the first date? Answer: NOTHING.
You have 5 grandparents. I knew you were a shoggoth lord.
And hey, what's wrong with sleeping with someone on the first date?
As long as it isn't a family reunion!
Forgot the credit!
San Francisco Chronicle
But do the hidden people eat rotted sharks heads?
John Flinn
"It's disgusting!" said the young woman at the tourist information counter. "It tastes like something died in your mouth." "One little bite and you can't get the ammonia taste out of your mouth for a day and a half!" chimed in her colleague. I couldn't help noticing that both were smiling. Icelanders seem to take perverse pleasure in forcing down a little hakarl.
kinda of scary that all this Brits went there to get some loose Icelandic women, with breath to melt a clock...you know what I mean!
Just found this thread after a return from Iceland, so forgive the 7-year necro!
1. I ate the putrefied shark. And whale meat. And dried fish. And I liked them, by Thor!
2a. Although the women are insanely gorgeous and might not be inclined to wait too long, that's only part of the story. One needs to realize that Iceland is one of the most feminist countries in the world. One simply doesn't go there and try to pick up women. The oft-repeated truism is that local men don't try to pick up women. It was explained to us that trying to pick up women is viewed as tasteless, boorish, and stupid -- because obviously the woman will choose anyway in the end. So Icelandic women cut to the chase, and men are expected to passively wait to be asked -- and must not annoy everyone by trying to circumvent that. And if a man is never asked -- well, too bad. So my guess is that tall, handsome, rich Icelandic men have LOTS of sex with lots of different women, and that short, ugly, poor Icelandic men might have no sex at all, and no hope of it. Which makes Iceland very similar to the rest of the world, really.
2b. Also, "openness" is relative. Icelanders are militaristic in forcing you to shower naked in carefully gender-segregated locker rooms, but mixed-gender nudity is very, very much forbidden -- seemingly much more so than in the U.S. Printed porn and strip clubs, for example, are illegal in iceland, and they're trying to outlaw internet porn as well. Which must make it an especially sad place for all those short, ugly, poor men!
3. As an added point of bizarrity, they drink Brennevin because beer was illegal there until 1989.
Gross food? Well, we scandinavians do have pretty special tastes in it. If you visit Sweden, you really need to try surströmming, or fermented herring. If you're not quite up to several-month-old herring, why not lutfisk instead? This is not unknown in the swede parts of the US, apparently, but someone from there told me they deep fry it and serve it on sticks. This is sacrilege, obviously. Potatoes, white sauce, diced eggs and black pepper are what you need. Of course, it is patently disgusting.
If you're not quite up to several-month-old herring, why not lutfisk instead?
Looks just like Gefilte fish!
Gefilte fish is quite edible by comparison. Lutfisk is fish cleaned and put up on wooden frames to dry to hard planks of fish. Then they are put in a lye bath (lut) to dissolve certain structures and rehydrate it, time and time again, and finally washed out in a water bath, before being boiled. It is absolutely horrible.
That oddly sounds like something I would actually enjoy eating.
Or, you can enjoy the potatoes, the diced eggs, the white sauce and the black pepper.
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In a discussion about surströmming and hákarl, I'm surprised no one's linked to THIS yet.