Shark Bites!

Rose and I had been anticipating this moment, our hearts full of dread, since we arrived in Iceland. The timing couldn't have been worse- it was 10 in the morning and our bellies contained only a meager breakfast. Regardless, this was something we had to do. As I wrote in a previous entry, the shark delicacy, called hakarl, is not cooked, but rather dried, cured and finally frozen, a process that can take up to six months. I expected the meat to reek of poison, but thankfully it emitted only a potent, fishy odor. I assume the freezing serves to quell the stench of ammonia and acid, chemicals that accumulate within the kidney-lacking sharks and would surely kill any fool attempting to ingest the fish raw. As for the aftermath of my video, I couldn't manage to swallow my hakarl, mostly because of its unbearably rubbery texture. I would've been chewing that teensy bite for hours, a prospect that I'm even shuddering at right now, hours after the experience. My fingers are still perfumed with fish smell, and I pity the sucker who will soon be sandwiched between me and Rose on our flight home. Smell and mouthfeel aside, the hakarl didn't taste as ghastly as I expected. It was very salty and spoiled, but my body had prepared itself for the flavor of rotten fish, so fortunately for you, the viewer, you were not forced to watch me projectile vomit all over the Reykjavik harbor. You're welcome.