Last Days in Isafjordur

To think by this time next week I will be in the US living the mundane life is depressing. I cannot fathom leaving Iceland and returning to the US.

But first, my adventures of the last 24 hours.

I spent Thursday night at Langi Mangi for the Pop Quiz contest. Langi Mangi is the local internet cafe/bar, basically one of the only happening places in the city. So there I was, the tourist, the only Indian (or Asian/other person), hanging out with the locals, drinking beer and answering ridiculous questions about the Nordic countries. Unfortunately RF and I got there late and only heard the last two questions (of which we corrected answered and understood one). RF eventually left and I stayed with the locals and discussed politics, facebook, puppets, and possibly other ridiculous things. Of course, these people were so tall I was sitting in the land of the giants. And not just tall, but gorgeous; the Icelanders are beautiful people.

On Friday the class went to the local fish restaurant (same place as the one on Tuesday) and we ate and drank and ate some more. Of course, it helped that our administration was smashed as well by the end and was laughing so hard I thought he would fall into the ocean. I also visited my friend (along with LO) at the tourist office and we partook of Brennivin. Truly a wonderful time to be completely smashed and walking around town.

In the end, I passed out on the children’s bean bag. There is proof somewhere on Facebook of that…

Tjoruhusid: Isafjordur’s Amazing Fish Restaurant

We finally visited the local Icelandic fish restaurant, Tjöruhúsið. Local meaning, a log cabin, a tiny kitchen, and the husband cooking fish on a moving stove. There were three choices: fish soup, catfish, and a type of cod. We choose all of them and then waited.
Menu at Tjoruhusid

We waited and waited; as the air filled with fish, the time passed slower and slower. Eventually, we received some fresh bread and a stick of butter (literally a square block) to hold us down from clamoring like cats. 30 minutes later and a massive porcelain bowl appeared at the table. It was fish soup. The soup was creamy but not too think and held morsels of white fish that melts in the mouth.
Delicious Fish

Another 30 minutes later, our professor plops down at the table and we partake of more beer while waiting for the main plats. They show up… in large ironclad pans. One pan is filled with cod cooked in a creamy, bechemal type sauce. Adorned with grapes, salad greens (the only time I will be able to forage in Iceland), sliced tomatoes, and lemons, the dish is fit for the aristocracy. Or maybe, just the local fisher families of the WestFjords.