SYNOPSIS - MY TIME IN THE FAROES

I traveled to the Faroe Islands in August of 2017 and spent two weeks in the islands alone with a rented car and a tent.  I began and ended my trip in the capital city of Tórshavn, staying at the Bládýpi Guesthouse, which I found both comfortable and well-located within the city.  I took advantage of these days to sample the local restaurant scene, and to talk to locals that could connect me with people and places in the other islands.  Once I left Tórshavn, I camped, utilizing camping areas where they existed, and asking locals for permission to camp on their land where they didn't.  The islands were easy to navigate and the roads were of very good quality, with smooth pavement and clear signs.  The landscape was dramatic and beautiful around every turn in the road, and I was able to cover a good deal of the islands while I was there, exploring much of the territory by car, and leaving it behind when the ferries were only big enough to accommodate foot passengers.  The people I met and spoke with were friendly and accommodating, and many were both excited to talk about their culture and pleased and curious to hear about where I came from and why I was there.  

While I could fill a short book about my experiences in these islands, there were a few observations in particular that I found quite interesting and unexpected.  To begin with, I was blown away by the Faroese people's mastery of language.  Not only did they speak their own Faroese tongue (which I understand is both unique and difficult to master), they were fluent in both English and Danish.  In addition to these base languages, spoken by almost all the Faroese, most islanders also knew varying combinations of Swedish, Norwegian, Icelandic, and German, with a few also well versed in French or Spanish.

My explorations also yielded some other surprising cultural imports. For example, something that struck me as highly unusual was the preponderance of trampolines, which could be found in yards throughout any village that I visited, with several prominently displayed even in the smallest communities.  These trampolines were often heavily weighted down with rocks to keep them grounded in the strong winds that batter the islands.  I never got a satisfactory answer as to why there were so many.  Nachos were another surprising and pervasive import. Nearly every restaurant I passed or visited offered nachos, even though they were not Mexican restaurants and had no other Mexican-inspired dishes on their menus. How nachos found their way to the Faroes remains a mystery—but they seem to be there to stay.

Finally, one tradition that has made the Faroes famous worldwide is known as the grindadráp, or the ancient tradition of corralling pods of pilot whales into the islands inlets and slaughtering them in the shallow water.  While this practice has drawn the attention of animal rights activists elsewhere in the world, it is a key element of Faroese culture and one in which every able bodied person available participates.  The meat from these whales is divided amongst the people of the village (and often neighboring villages as well) and provides much-needed food over the long, dark winters.  During my stay, I was notified by a local contact of a grindadráp taking place, but unfortunately was not able to get there in time to photograph it.