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About Grindavik

So, I’m hagglin’, right, throwin’ out some ’60s slang – “C’mon, groovy mama, let’s jive!” She cracks a smile, and I’m like, “Score!” Happiest cat in the alley, baby! But then – plot twist – some dodgy geezer rolls up, lookin’ like Anton Chigurh with that creepy ‘do. “What’s your bag, man?” I snap, feelin’ the tension. He’s eyeballin’ us, and I’m thinkin’, “This cat’s gonna make it quick, ain’t he?” Straight outta the film, man – gave me the heebie-jeebies!

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After a while, I finally hook a fish! It’s a beauty, too. I’m all pumped, ready to show it off. But just as I’m about to reel it in, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Jón. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta come to the market on Aðalstræti!” I’m thinkin’, “Really? I’m kinda busy here!” But then he mentions fresh fish tacos. I’m sold. I let the fish go—sorry, buddy!—and head over.

From Iceland — The Icelandic Roundup: Homemade Bombs In Selfoss And Knife Violence