When I first arrived in Reykjavik, I had no idea how much Icelanders loved dried fish. The night we flew in, we went to a local grocery store since it was the only thing that was open.I was starving. 

We grabbed some dried fish…safe bet, right? Shortly after, the nomtacular started, a visibly intoxicated man approached my travel partner, Mike. First, he spoke in presumably slurred Icelandic, then switched to slurred English. Perhaps he thought it’d be more effective.

He insisted that the dried fish needed butter on it. He insisted repeatedly, and tried to force feed Mike buttered dried fish. He even dropped some F-bombs about it.

He was passionate.

On our first tour with Iceland Excursions, we stopped at this field of wind dried fish. It smelled of dead fish carcass, it was in the middle of nowhere, and I don’t think I could find it again if I tried. A better hipster than I would probably throw a massive kegger here, PBR and all.