The Fascinating Faroes
Tradition and culture in a small group of North Atlantic Islands.
Feb 21, 2007
The capital Tórshavn is the size of a small market town with a population of around 15,000. It’s a prosperous, place with a supermarket and shopping mall but alongside are the narrow twisting alleys of the old historic district, where centuries old, tarred driftwood houses, roofed with turf crowd haphazardly together. The traditional wood interiors of the houses are simply furnished but they all have central heating and modern conveniences.
The Faroes is a land of constant contrasts between modern comforts and traditional ways. The Grindadrap is perhaps the most difficult custom for outsiders to understand. Birgir Enni the skipper of the sailing vessel Nordlysid explained it to me when I took a trip with him around the islands.
“Whenever the whales are sighted the word goes out and everyone, who can, gets in the boats and puts to sea. They herd the whales into a bay towards the beach. That’s when the rest of the village joins in, wading into the sea and killing the whales”. It sounded a bit bloody so I asked him about conservation. He defended the practice as part of the traditional Faroese way of life.
“Pilot whales are not an endangered species and no one is doing it for commercial gain.” The whale meat is divided up according to the number of people living in each household. You can’t buy it and people living in Tórshavn only manage to get some through relatives and friends. By this time under full sail in the open sea with the islands of Stremoy and Nólsoy behind us, we heard a cry of “Grind”, over the radio. However before I could reconcile my mixed feelings of excitement, dread and revulsion at the prospect of a traditional whale hunt, there was another message to say it was a false alarm.
A couple of nights later I had the opportunity to sample whale meat at the Faroese evening in the Nordic House, Tórshavn’s cultural centre. A long wooden table was groaning with all things Faroese. Boiled whale meat tastes surprisingly like beef. Mutton, hung in slatted sheds and wind-dried was tough and rank, it is definitely an acquired taste. Dried fish and mustard was something I would have to work very hard at acquiring a taste for but I enjoyed feasting on pickled herring, fresh salmon and roasted puffins stuffed with sweet dough.
The food was followed by an evening of music and dancing. I was again reminded of the long traditions of an isolated community. The Chain Dance, once common throughout Europe, survives now only in the oral tradition of the Faroes. The dancers in brightly coloured national costumes spiralled in a sort of mediaeval conga to the incongruous sound of an unaccompanied ballad singer. But in typically Faroese contrast, next week the annual international Jazz, blues and folk music festival would draw musicians from all over the world to this tiny speck on the North Atlantic.
