Cafe Loki is famed for its Icelandic specialities, and I stepped in to try their taster platter of "fermented shark". Surrounded by small blonde children in the typical knitted pattern jumpers of this country, and murals of some of my favourite Norse myths, I was lulled into a false sense of security. I may have only had to eat four bites of it, but that dish was horrible. Just horrible. The fermentation produced a most unpleasant nasal tingling akin to accidentally inhaling water up your nose, and Loki's dreadful children Fenrir, Jörmungandr and Hel cackled down at my distaste in cartoon form from the walls. HIDEOUS.
I headed back towards home and the water, stopping to admire the view and the Sun Craft sculpture and glare at the Italian tourists clambering all over it. I'm now at my hostel with a Viking beer, surrounded by travellers and Icelanders alike and listening in to the Free Gaza concert happening on the patio. Although it's nearing 10pm the sun is only just beginning to set over the mountains, staining the clouds and the sea a delicious pink that I just cannot be bothered to photograph but take my word for it: it's very nice.