7 Things You Must Know About Iceland

I am officially back in the swing of things, so no more of this blogging once in a blue moon nonsense. My first order of business is to say that all of you need to visit Iceland at some point in your lives. This is just how it is. Since I have found over the years that people know very little about this totally awesome country, I am now going to tell you everything you need to know. Be sure to take notes. Doing so on parchment is more thematically appropriate. Extra points if you kill someone in honorable combat with an ax beforehand.

1. The kinda icy one, not the totally icy one.

There are only two comments that people make when I tell them I am heading to Iceland. One of them is to make a quip about Björk, which is futile, because even Icelanders can’t begin to tell you what her deal is. The other is to say with some kind of I’m-very-clever smile, “Isn’t Iceland the green one and Greenland the icy one?” Good, I am glad that we’ve all been to grade school. Yes, it is true that the Vikings decided to employ a bit of false advertising in order to keep their precious volcanic island in the middle of the Atlantic safe. And it is also true that there is fuck-all in Greenland, as I saw firsthand when I flew over (you can also see the curvature of the Earth in that picture, which is kind of wicked cool).

However, while I’m told that Iceland has lovely summers, it is still called ICELAND. This comes from an Old Norse word meaning “Land With A Lot Of Freaking Ice In It”. Now, I’ve only ever been there in the winter, so I’m fairly certain that even these lovely summers I hear about are totally freezing. Bundle up, you California noobs. My face almost fell off it was so cold.

You might think that’s about an hour outside of Reykjavík, but actually, we were on Hoth.

2. Iceland is another planet.

I don’t care what laws of astrophysics this violates, it’s true. Walking around Iceland feels like exploring some mystic alternate reality. Ever play any of the sequels to Myst? It feels kind of like that: eerily quiet, somewhat bleak, and totally beautiful.

Though Icelanders may look humanoid, they all look exactly the same, which to me implies either cloning or some sort of advanced android technology. Also, they speak a delightfully angry sounding language with weird letters and without a word for “please” and where the double-L is pronounced by making a clicking sound out the sides of your mouth. They are not of this world.

Speaking of the language, everybody there speaks English, but if you can muster up the courage to give their famously difficult language a try, it’ll go a long way. Since Icelanders’ natural intonation tends to sound to a native English speaker like they’re super annoyed at you, here’s a non-threatening vid to help you learn how to frolic with bunnies while speaking Icelandic.

3. When in Iceland, never question that Iceland is the greatest country in human history.

There are 300,000 inhabitants of this frozen little rock, and their pride in their country is epic. Last year the UN named Iceland the best place in the world to live, but any Icelander could’ve told you that years ago, and probably would have shortly after you introduced yourself. Everybody goes to college and the doctor practically for free, the economy is rocking their thick woolen socks (which you certainly notice when you convert your dollars into kronur), and they’ve got over a thousand years of Viking badassery to brag about (they also brag about the Cod War, which you absolutely cannot laugh at them about, no matter how cute it may be).

4. Traditional Icelandic cuisine is a vision of hell.

Every meal I have ever had in Iceland has been delicious, mainly because Berglaug is an amazing cook. Rye flatbread, skyr, dried fish, a thousand different varieties of lamb (even raw smoked lamb, which is surprisingly delicious). Om nom nom. There are a few oddities I haven’t tried, like whale (for ethical reasons) or foal (for weirded out reasons). However, when you go to the grocery store, be prepared, because chances are you’ll find something like this (if you’re wondering, I was not prepared, and it’s possible that I screamed).

Those are sheep heads, singed so that the fur doesn’t get in the way when you pry apart their faces to eat them. And one head does not serve a family, oh no – everybody gets their own individual head to devour. They also make a sort of gelatin with the meat that I have dubbed “face jello”. I am told that there is even a drive-thru in Reykjavik where you can get sheep head, in case you were totally craving some face late at night. The selection that is shown in the picture here was right below the jars of hákarl (rotten shark, buried for two months in the sand before it finds its way to your table) and the slices of sheep’s testicles soaked in whey. Dear lord no.

Much like the Cod War, don’t question the food. I asked Berglaug’s father point-blank to explain why in god’s name they eat balls, and I found myself feeling like a total pansy afterwards. So gracefully accept the fact that they eat fucking weird food, but for the love of all that’s holy, don’t eat it.

5. OMG HOT SPRINGS K.

I really don’t need to elaborate on this. Iceland is a geothermal wonderland, and that means that yes, the tap water smells strongly of sulphur, but you never have to buy a water heater and hot showers are unlimited. This also means that you get hot springs where you can sit in a piping hot milky blue mineral soup while it snows on your head and you feel like a Japanese macaque. Me and Berglaug drifted about in one for two and half hours and I’m fairly certain I reached enlightenment.

6. Icelandic names are cooler than yours.

Battle of Thor. Deity of the Sword. Wolf Rune. These are literal translations of some female names.

Male names are equally awe-inspiring (Berglaug’s afore-mentioned father is “Hand of God”), but by my own personal observation, I’m convinced that every other man in Iceland is named Óli.

7. Handball players typically sacrifice the still-beating hearts of their enemies to Odin.

Handball is the national sport of Iceland, and if you’re like me, you just wondered why that game you play with a rubber ball against a brick wall in 3rd grade captures national attention. Then you learn that in Europe handball means something else entirely, and that it will pwn your face. It’s similar to basketball; you’ve got the same type of indoor court, you dribble the ball back and forth, and it’s a time-based game, meaning it’s over in an hour. However, the goals are about half the size of pro-soccer goals, the ball is hard and less than half the size of a basketball, and oh yes – it’s a full contact sport. The object, as I understand from watching this game a few times, is to get as many goals as you can by pegging the tiny little ball into the huge goal and break as many bones as you can in the process.

Berglaug’s teenage sister is a goalie (read as: one giant bruise), and let me tell you, those girls have a very different idea about playing high school sports than I remember. What I recall about sports at that age is that if you knock somebody down or hurt them, you give them a hand back up. You might even give them a friendly clap on the back after making sure they’re ok, or if you’re particularly nice, you hug it out. These blond-ponytailed Nordic youths would’ve scoffed at this. They leave the other girls to die out there. The amount of injuries in an hour-long match is amazing, and they don’t give a damn who they’ve scarred for life. They high five over it. I even saw one girl stare down at the opponent on the floor with a quiet vengeance that would’ve done her berseker ancestors proud. Oh, and there’s none of that “go team!” malarkey. Before they get in game, they yell “FIGHT”, and trust me when I say that the Icelandic word for “fight” sounds like what it means.

Seriously. 17-year-old handball girls will fuck you up.

In short, despite the fact that they eat balls, Iceland is completely rad and you should go there. And when you’re in Reykjavík, go to Nexus, which is one of the best geek stores evar.

“Myndasögur” is the totally awesome word for “comic books”. I love Iceland.

Say it with me now! Ísland! Best í heimi!