Sunday, 10 July 2016


Fun 10.07

Oh my goodness, I'm in the harbour cafe and I've ordered burger and chips. Eating out options are very limited, burgers and hot dogs prevail. It seems I was very lucky to find a chicken kebab at cafe chill the other day. I've gone for the fish option, hopeful that it might hold more promise. I'll let you know.

It's amazing what a difference a little bit of music makes and I realise that's what been desperately missing so far is any lightness or fun. Having eaten most of my wonderfully awful meal of hard crisped breaded fish in a bun and chips a la macdonalds, I perked up when I thought I could hear music. As I drove off, I wound down the car windows thinking it was just coming from boats in the harbour, but then spotted what looked to be fairground games and a gathering of people listening to a speaker. I parked.

Now listening to what I can most closely describe as happy country rock I have stumbled upon a religous convention. The evening is warm, the sun shining and the houses on Sorvagur look pretty, nestled up the hill side with their bright white green red and brown faces turned towards the harbour, I've not seen this side of town before. I had not been here until I dropped her off at the ferry two days ago but I now see it is a convivial community space with benches where people gather.

A man sings in national costume, long blue socks, half length tight navy trousers and a red waistcoat under a short fitted navy jacket with shiny buttons. The noise of the fairground airguns, the hamster rolling human balls tumbling round in water, bungee jumping, people eating hot dogs and popcorn are a far cry from what I might have expected from a religous convention. If I hadn't asked, apart from continuing to hear the word 'yeesus' , which may have helped me work it out, I may never have known it were anything to do with religion.

Photo taken from Internet

I can smell waffles but cannot see them. People are dressed as in any European city other than the man in national costume. Now they are singing in English, about there being room at the table, that I'm not too late and I can sit down next to the King. Gee thanks. 

It's warmingly different though from my Finnish religious experience. I agreed to go to a service with my new Finnish friends, back in 2002. Sunday dinner was following which sounded rather tempting. It started fine, by this time I could speak reasonable Finnish and I understood a little of what was being said. However, when they started speaking in tongues and wailing began, I felt sheer terror! Not one for religion I nevertheless found myself trying to remember the Lord's Prayer and say some hails Marys! It was an experience I didn't repeat! And nor did I get anymore invites to Sunday lunch! I think I was a disappointment to them not to be converted, they were all excited.

Gravel starts to shift and I am aware that something is happening as people shuffle about. I think it will be prayers but in fact seems as though it is all over. People start to drift away, the musical instruments and speakers are packed up but the fairground continues. My contribution to the fairground economy is to buy a cone of popcorn. I look carefully at all the rides and challenge games but see no sign of traditional Showman families, everyone looks too young, too smart and too organised. The rides are all of English origin though and I would have loved a conversation with a Showman. Many of the families I used to work with had relations across Europe. I must ask about Gypsies and Showmen.

I drive home and remember to explore the small residential streets behind the guest house. I am looking for paths up the hillsides on to the mountains, but don't find any. Instead I find a worrying stash of walking frames and hoists in an industrial looking building way beyond the view of the front of the town. I conclude that it is an old peoples home, itself in a state of disrepair, and decay. 

As i head back to the main road, I notice somebody carrying a backpack, and watch, as he turns to face me and puts out his thumb. I stop the car, wind down the window, where are you going?

As I backtrack and head for the airport, we chat and I ask, what time is your flight and then, can I take you to see rather a special sight. He agrees. Of Indian birth but living in New York he is excited at the prospect of seeing Gásadalur. It seems it is a picture postcard view and he had been disappointed, not to manage to get there, having 'dropped in' for a four day stay on his journey home from Greenland. He is not the only one to be pleased. Serendipity. I feel starved of company, I love listening to his stories of Greenland and the ice and I love that I'm in a position where I can just say, let's go! Spending just a short time with him, I am hopeful that my hostel stay on Sudoroy will be rewarding.

No wonder the hoards don't come my way in my peaceful resting spot above Gásadalur, I'm seemingly in the wrong place, they all come for the waterfalls, a sight neither mentioned in my guide book and nor, I may add by my host. Thanks to serendipity, I too now know they are there and will return with a more favourable light.

Aha, did you notice that, I wrote, my host? Yep, 11.15pm and she has just texted to say theres not two couples tomorrow night but three, two different parties arriving at different times, and likely will need an evening meal. I'm beyond surprise and beyond caring. Four people, six people makes little difference. I reply that as long as they are gone before my bus departs on Wednesday it'll be fine!! 

She really is a bizarre kettle of fish and I no longer have any expectations of knowing what's happening but am pleased to be laughing about it rather than crying. How much cleaning of the downstairs cafe area I do before I go will depend on the needs of these guests. I have chosen to be here, have explored widely, yet have spent just under two hundred pounds so far on two weeks of accomodation, fuel, food and excursions but I have seen a good part of the main islands. I have had the luxury to explore slowly and from a position of relative comfort, If not camaraderie.

Highlighting shows exploration so far. My onward journey will take me to the south islands and Mykines to the far west. Should I return in August as originally planned it will be to the north eastern island group.

Do you remember, way back in the beginning, I said there'd be no wildness? Well there hasn't been. I'm looking forward to tiny Nolsoy. Nordlysid? Yep I thought being on the boat would be fun but maybe our timings were out. He wanted to talk by phone when I was stressed to my eyeballs and he has not responded to my email communication. C'est la vie! If he replies I'm there, if he waits for my call, I'm not.

I've decided not to throw away the reeking salmon from the upstairs kitchen fridge, I've already cast out much that I recognise including mouldy sliced meat designed for the breakfast tray. I'm planning to pretend that I think the bag contains traditional meat that she has told me, many times, might be on the verge of being off but is perfect!! How should I know which is which? 

A few bottles of her beer help my sense of humour and I've been keeping my food in the downstairs fridge. Fret not, guest food will be bought fresh tomorrow.


Cyclonic 4 or 5, increasing 6 at times, becoming variable 3 for a time.
Sea state
Moderate or rough.
Rain or showers, fog patches.
Moderate or good, occasionally very poor.