During this trip I unintentionally bought this thing called Hangiálegg from the convenience store and sullenly slid it into the baguette as I thought about the wallet I had locked into the car after I had returned it. I remember suspecting, in that distracted state, that the airport was on fire.
But no, that was just the Hangiálegg, and a burning airport just so happened to be what Hangiálegg was supposed to taste like. I watched in amazement as Vanessa dispatched her share without so much as a comment. And my poor wallet continued sitting in the locked car just outside, then just out of reach but soon even further away as I leave the country.
One and a half weeks later, I received the wallet again from the car rental. The name of the person was Michal Lubowski and I rather like to think that he saw the Polish prayer cards that were sitting in the wallet as they found it. Vanessa is right and good people exist in this world.
The other Icelandic delicacy is kæstur hákarl, the partially-rotten flesh of the Greenland shark, left in the sand to soak in the brine (6-12 weeks) and then in the shack to hang dry for a solid number of months. It was 3 years ago when they served this to us in dainty frozen cubes.
Well, I thought it tasted like pissrags. Eating it made Derek lapse into a deep funk and raised a furore with the rest of us. The waitress wasn't having any of it either. We let the annoying American bankers in the next table have it, then ran off as fast as we could.