Like any great drug in history, coffee thoroughly entwines itself in the addict’s life.  It is not just about the act of drinking but the entire culture around it. Coffee pries one’s eyes open in the morning, offers an excuse to meet a friend and chat for hours, and provides legal permission to laze around at work. At Kaffi Port, of the local flea market Kolaportið, coffee becomes your entrance ticket to observe a clientele that is far removed from the hip 101 coffee houses on Laugarvegur.  For almost 20 years, Port has served out classics from the local coffee table to suburbanite families, grand-dads with shopping bags full of harðfiskur and boys with glowing plastic lightsabres.
For the longest time I barely noticed the place. And now that I finally have, I cannot stop looking: plastic flowers and palm trees, neon lights, golden angel figures and an art-for-sale-exhibition showcasing images of burning twin towers, racing cars and fetish figures…
In addition to all of this, Port offers another warmly welcomed boon: a momentary respite from the barging and bashing of the crowded flea market aisles, a cultural treat and local specialty that makes mince out of untrained Sunday walkers. You need not fight shopaholic Vikings to enjoy a sweet moment and a serving of Emmess ice cream.  Here, everyone has a place, a chair and a table. To be honest, I wouldn’t advise you to come to Kaffi Port for a great paper mug of coffee. But I do warmly recommend it as an antidote to all the cool and as a safe haven to heal your bruises and gather your spirits before facing the enemy again.