
Ciarán Daly
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Salt Of The Earth: An Outsider’s Look At Icelanders’ Salt Obsession
Prikið, Reykjavík. Sunday morning. My favourite hangover food spot in the city. I am sitting at a table with two Icelanders. Those damn delicious sweet potato fries have just arrived. However, something is missing. The salt. The special salt. I grimace as…
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Taking No Hostages: The Words Beneath The Waves
Whether you’re a musician or a festival-goer, Airwaves is a messy week for all involved. Thursday is the second night of the festival proper, but if you’re anything like the dedicated Reykvíkingar in attendance, it could be your fourth night on the…
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Killing Your Darlings With A Lawnmower To The Face: We Visit An Icelandic Horror Set
Despite possessing a desolate landscape, long winters, and prominent bodysnatcher demographic (sorry, Alþingi), Iceland is not really a landmark when it comes to horror movies—even though it certainly seems like the kind of place that should be. Thanks to a burgeoning national…
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We Went West: 12 Hours In Sagaland
The Westfjords. Snæfellsnes. A petrol station. All places. What do they have in common? Well, they’re synonymous with western Iceland—and, of course, the west is the best. What about other parts of the west, though? Where are they? Are there any? How…
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The Heart Of Darkness In The Age Of Bullshit
There’s been much (some) made in British discourse of the phenomenon of cupcake fascism. If you’ve ever been to London, you might already have a vague, instinctive awareness of what this entails. If I could boil it down to five key elements,…

