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We document our family's working sabbaticals as well as adventures a tad closer to home.

Expect no insight in this one folks.

Expect no insight in this one folks.

Sure, travel is all about introspection and revelation.

And sometimes it’s just about food.

As mentioned, post-rúntur, many folks go hot-dogging. But hot dogs (pylsur) are not just a late night snack. Hot dogs are, in some circles, considered the national food (which I can get behind more than putrified shark. I come from a proud hot dog eating family).

We headed here:

Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur is often considered the favorite of these spots. In fact Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur translates to “Town’s Best Sausages”. It’s been open since 1937 and operated by four generations of the same family. It has a website with a delightfully charming “Did You Know” section. Here you can read about the impact of wheat rations post-WWII on hot dogs (read:  no buns). It also has some links to commercials from the 80s (always a treat). In 2006 one English newspaper voted Bæjarins Beztu the best hot dogs in Europe. And Europe is really big. So, naturally, we paid our respects (as has Bill Clinton, whose photo is hanging in the booth).

Here, Brett’s perusing the options.

The options include pylsur (for 280IKS) and Coke (for 170ISK). That’s it. You can get a hot dog or not get a hot dog. You can get a soda or not get a soda. Not a large or a medium. Soda or no soda. Icelanders, by the by, drink more Coca Cola per capita than any other nation on earth.

Now, you do have options. For example, I got ketchup and crunchy onion things. Brett opted for one with everything, or eina með öllu. So his came with ketchup, sweet mustard, crunchy onion things and remolaði, some kind of mayonnaise/relish hybrid.

As promised, there’s not much here to think deeply about. I’ll end with jogging, happy hot dogs.

Our home, or the post in which I explain why I went to Ikea.

Our home, or the post in which I explain why I went to Ikea.

The Volcano Show

The Volcano Show