So when I originally started this post I was going to talk about the basics of travel but, there are other bloggers on whose pages you will find that. I want to talk about what you may find there for you. Now I am a privately spiritual person. I am not into organized religion. I do not follow any predetermined doctrine. This is my own preference and I respect others' right to do the same. That being said, Iceland hit me in a way that I was not expecting. It is raw, rugged, and absolutely breathtaking. It has all the obvious marketing draws for foodies (I'll share Vince's take on the fermented shark later) and the outdoor types. What people don't seem to talk about is how it slams into your soul. Mine, and I suspect my husband's souls are forever changed.
What do I mean by that? It's this feeling that hits you when you first step out into the wilds. The air moves around and through you in a way that I have never experienced. It is like something inside takes the deepest breath and exhales at the slowest pace. The ruggedness tugs at you. It pulls your senses into a state of awareness unlike anywhere else I have ever been. It is hard to put into words the shift that occurs. It has been weeks since our visit and I am still struggling to understand this change that has occurred within me. I am stronger. I am more aware of myself. I am more in tune with my body and my soul has grown in ways that there just are no words for. For me, this is the strangest part because I have always been able to find the right words to describe a place, a moment, or a person.
Iceland is so ancient in its touch yet so vibrant in its energy. This is reflected in the people. They are wonderful and welcoming, the antithesis of our rushed society. They have what they need (except maybe A/C) and what they want. They don't have the hurried intensity that most westernized people I meet have. They know the value of what is around them and seek to care for it in a way that I wish all the world would (if we did we might not have the climate issues that we have now). They love their land, even the dangers. They have an inner joy that really resonates. They are excited to talk about all the highs and lows of living that far north on an island. Did you know the population is only 375,000 with most living in the southern part? They understand the impact of living with volcanoes and are not afraid.
They truly are a guiding light for the rest of us to follow.
Now, for that food moment:
Thoughts on Icelandic Fermented Shark
At the end of our first full day in Reykjavik, we decided to dine at Café Loki (Kaffi Loki) next to the famous Hallgrimskirkja. The second item on the menu was the Icelandic Plate Loki – a sampler of traditional Icelandic staples. Dried cod with butter. Smoked lamb on Icelandic flatbread. Plokkfiskur – a mix of mashed potatoes and fish. Smoked trout. But the main event here was the Icelandic fermented shark. Google it – I’ll wait . . .
How can I describe this portion of the dish . . . first I’m thankful they only gave me three 1 cm cubes . . .
When my plate was served, the server cautioned me – don’t smell it first (which harkened me back to the warning of a tour guide two days before – “don’t bother trying not to smell it – it will attack your nose from behind . . .”). Then our server said, “Would you like a shot of Brennivin (the local spirit) to sip between bites of shark?” Her tone implied that this was a good idea . . . and I like spirits . . . so I agreed. That was a good idea.
Back to the shark – each bite actually had the texture of a good piece of Hamachi or toro. It was firm initially, but then almost melted in the mouth. As it melted . . . I got a strong scent of ammonia. But layered in that was umami reminiscent of parmesan. Think cat box and cheese. It was intense. A sip of Brennivin after each bite washed away the intensity and enhanced the Brennivin itself as well.
The overall experience was memorable. While I’m sure I’ll try it again the next time I’m in Iceland, I’m not sure I’ll ever want more than 3 cubic centimeters in one sitting. - Vince
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