All language subtitles for Anthony.Bourdain.No.Reservations.S01E02.Iceland Hello Darkness My Old Friend

Iceland.

Middle of winter.

It's dark here.

Only four hours of sunlight each day.

It's enough to drive you mad if you're not
used to it.

And I'm definitely not used to it.

I'm Anthony Bourdain.

I write, I travel, I eat, and I'm hungry
for more.

Iceland is out there on its own.

A volcanic island in the middle of the
Atlantic.

It sits just below the Arctic Circle.

Steam rising from its hot springs and
geysers.

Less than 300,000 people live here.

It feels extraterrestrial.

Hit it in wintertime with only four hours
of sunlight a day.

And you feel like you're walking on a
frozen planet.

Wake up, young lovers, wherever you are.

What may seem like a dark,
dank, suicidal time of year

for most people is in fact,
for Icelanders, anything but.

Now, in the first 28 years of my working
life as a chef in New York, working in

largely windowless spaces in the back of
restaurants, my way of dealing with those

kind of feelings was
to get together with

some chef friends after
work and get hammered.

Woohoo!

And though these days I'm living a
marginally healthier lifestyle,

I don't think sitting in
front of the sun lamp or

chugging down fish liver
smoothies will do it for me.

So I head to Iceland to see what their
secret is.

I'm told they managed
to turn the extended

hard day's night into
a rollicking good time.

Eating, drinking, and pumping iron.

Exercise is one of the
ways Icelanders preserve

their health and
sanity during the winter.

No wonder the world's strongest man for
many years was from this country.

Athletic facilities in general fill me
with terror and dread, and I'm really

trying to figure out why I'm here in this
frozen wasteland.

I'm guessing because it's
the producer of the show loves

seeing over-muscled guys
in tiny little bathing suits.

It's really the only
reason I can think of

world's strongest man
meet world's weakest man.

This is 180 kilos.

You'd expect the locals to be walking
around pale, thin, and bleary-eyed.

Yet, oddly, Icelanders are among the
healthiest people on earth, with a long

life expectancy that ranks second only to
the Japanese.

Apparently, this country's
Viking roots remain close to

the surface, and a little
darkness doesn't turn them soft.

I will take 200 kilos for you.

I ain't lifting squat, okay?

Just the thought of these people pumping
away makes me queasy.

You wanna scare master anyone?

Look, I can't even make
it to the gym when it's

sunny and the cab drops
me off at the front door.

I need a little more than the promise of
sweaty, ripped abs and better health if

I'm gonna drag my candy ass out of bed on
a cold, dark morning.

Tony.

And there is something more.

These healthy lads are
some of Iceland's elite

strongmen, and they
have just the thing for me.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Greta,
the gym's resident mom and chef,

is making up some kyotsuppa for the muscle
dudes.

A traditional lamb soup made of fatty
lamb, rutabaga, onion, carrot,

celery, cabbage, leek, and a fistful of
rice to thicken.

It's a kind of hearty, peasant-y food I
really like.

This heaping bowl of protein is the feed of
choice for the strong guys when training.

In Iceland, back in the old days,
it was very difficult, so the people who

were less strong, the weak people,
they didn't survive.

So only the strong people survived.

I'm thinking he could be talking about me,
and he's got a point.

I don't know if I would survive here.

Don't hit me like that.

I'm going behind him.

You have to eat four dishes.

Four?

One for each, you know.

One for... Yeah.

That's gonna take a lot of soup.

I'm planning on running for governor of
California.

Yeah, yeah.

Just one bowl, I'm going right from donuts
to bulkitude.

You might go up to be a viking,
you know.

One day, eat six bowls of this every day.

Yeah, that's too late for me.

Never too late.

I'm, yeah.

I like your attitude.

A real Icelandic ant, you know,
made of... made of the soup.

No, this is real Icelandic ant made of the
soup.

Uh-huh.

Oh, yeah.

Nice to meet you.

I'm the real American TV host made of
alcohol and cigarettes.

You guys, you eat this before you
exercise.

All the time, before and after?

Before and after.

Before and after.

Yeah, because of me, I'd eat like two bowls
of this, then I'd need a nice long nap.

You know, I wouldn't feel like lifting
heavy objects.

That's okay.

My wife is very happy when I eat the soup.

Because, yes, you have to ask her about my
sex life.

You have to excuse me.

He's a male, Paris Hilton.

Slut.

It's my horny tube.

Oh, yeah.

Mental note.

Do not sauna after lunch.

Yeah, just... Yeah.

A few minutes, you have to take arm
wrestling with him.

You know.

Let me see how much good the soup is doing
for us.

Here we go.

Taking this punk downtown.

This is exactly why I never set foot in
these places.

The smell of sweat and testosterone.

Magic.

I see Richard Simmons.

I am out of here.

Okay.

Here we go.

Ready.

Gee.

No, I can't believe it.

He's cheating.

Eat more soup.

Yeah.

They say this soup makes you bulky and
strong.

I've had three bowls.

And I'm getting nowhere.

Okay, here we go.

Okay.

You want me to go for 600?

Get this over with.

Finger wrestling.

Finger wrestling.

Yeah.

Can I use my whole arm?

No.

Just try to hold your finger.

Just try to hold it.

On my hand.

Okay.

Tell them God's going to grow.

Oh.

Oh.

Yeah.

That's going.

Still there.

Hey.

Nice to meet you guys.

Thanks.

Oh, thanks for the total emasculation,
guys.

Ah, yes.

Nature is a cruel mistress.

Life on the tundra is hard and difficult.

Only the strong survive.

Don't let the harsh conditions fool you.

Icelanders make the most out of the dark,
wintry conditions.

People in this country don't hibernate.

They strap on their boots and head
outdoors.

Hmm.

It's a big ugly hole in the ground.

What better way to make up for my total
wussification yesterday with the muscle

dudes than a picnic on the Icelandic
tundra?

My friend Siggy, chef at the Nordica
Hotel's very fine restaurant Vox,

is hooking me up with some picnic eats.

No ham, spread peanut butter and jelly
sandwiches on this picnic.

Morning.

What do you got for us?

Smoked puffin.

Puffin?

Yeah.

This is the only place in the world you
can hunt them.

Oh, excellent.

Is it like a cute little bird?

Yeah.

That looks good.

Then we have organic lamb chops with
barley.

Oh, nice.

Oh, they're cute.

Look at that.

We season them with fresh dill and dill
oil.

That's a cute little lamb chop.

Oh, I'm eating well.

Yeah.

This is all Icelandic ingredients and
we could go much further with this, but.

..

No, no, my God.

This is quite a spread.

Yeah.

So I was thinking about
starting doing fresh blinis

now, so they're going to
be nice in the lunchtime.

Beautiful.

Siggy gets to work on
some blinis, little pancakes

to accompany the
caviar and pickle dishes.

So what do chefs do after work here?

A lot of the times we go out and have fun.

Is there a chef bar?

Yes.

What are you doing Friday or Saturday
night?

Probably going to the chef bar.

Outstanding.

Are you coming with us?

I am so there.

Okay, that's good.

It's going to be good to have you by my
side there.

You kick some asses.

You're bigger than me.

I'm famous for my lumberjack physique.

You can decide how much
rum you want in the... A lot.

A lot, yeah.

Yeah, mom used to make hot chocolate just
like this.

Then mom was an alcoholic.

Just kidding.

Oh, yeah.

That's chakarific.

No wintry picnic would be complete without
the traditional Icelandic brew,

Brennaven.

Also known as Black Death.

A sort of schnapps made with potatoes and
flavored with carrowing.

It's going to be really cold where I'm
going, right?

So this could save my life.

This could save your life.

Good.

Anything called Black Death has got to be
good.

Okay, picnic on the frozen tundra,
here I come.

Oh yeah, the great outdoors.

Rarely do I feel more calm and comfortable
and confident than when I'm staring

straight into mother nature's slavering
maw.

With my basket of indigenous
goodies being delivered by cheap,

I'm off to the picnic spot in a
more environmentally sound way.

Saddle up.

When I'm traveling in between fine meals,
I always like to use the most modern and

yet fuel-efficient method of
transportation.

It's...

Yeehaw!

Do they all take a piss break at once?

Or do we have to sob each time?

30 minutes outside of
Reykjavik, and it feels

more like 30 million
miles from anywhere.

I hope they get plenty of spooky snacks in
this.

The dog sled drops me off near the glacier
picnic spot, and I'm instructed to stay

put and wait for the food basket to arrive
by jeep.

They said don't wander, but...

Meh, I'm wandering.

I mean, you're in a strange land.

That's what you're supposed to do,
is wander, right?

Okay, but that's not good.

The wind seems to be picking up a little
bit.

I hope Siggy didn't pack paper plates in
the picnic basket.

Hey, should snow be falling sideways?

Holy crap, this is a full-scale blizzard.

If my time in the Boy Scouts has taught me
anything about cold weather survival,

it taught me this.

Hypothermia, bad.

Shelter, good.

And remember kids, when making your own
travel show, insist on warm climates.

Also, when speaking
of producers, you say,

January, is that a good
time to go to Iceland?

Stick by your guns.

One tropical location is all I ask,
you know?

Maybe the color blue could appear in the
show once, you know what I mean?

Some boat drinks.

You know, banana slings, speedos.

Not that I wear one.

Or like looking at them.

Eh, never mind.

It really is quite beautiful.

And I did bring a little friend along.

A picnic pointer.

Never pack your alcohol.

Keep it on your person at all times.

Just in case you and your lunch basket get
separated.

I learned that one from Martha.

When freezing to death in a cave in the
middle of a blizzard in Iceland,

I always go for a little black death.

But death's coming your way anyway.

Drinking too much.

It's not something you need to feel guilty
about.

I'll just sit here and drink this and wait
for help to arrive.

I'm sure someone will come along
eventually.

My thumb is black colored.

Is that a bad thing?

I can't feel my penis.

I'm thinking of peeing in my pants just to
warm up.

Do you hear music?

I hear music.

Mommy?

Say, that sounds like the comforting music
from the Icelandic tourism film I saw.

There is a country in Europe that offers
some of the purest air in the world.

Where the exquisite lamb is free from
hormones and roams wild.

The Icelandic horse, purebred for
centuries, perhaps best symbolizes the

compelling appeal of this small,
unspoiled nation.

A beautiful church becomes the setting for
a musical experience.

Because of the moderating
influence of the Gulf Stream,

weather is cool in summer
and surprisingly mild in winter.

For outdoor enthusiasts, there are magical
moments that will remain forever in memory.

Iceland.

The way life should be.

The weather's cleared up a little bit.

We can do the picnic scene, right?

Oh yeah.

It looks good.

Negative temperatures, 60 mile an hour
winds, and near zero visibility.

This episode's special effects,
well, they're free.

Maybe I should have stayed put as
instructed.

Eh, Icelanders are a caring lot.

My picnic buddies will be along... soon.

There will be no spreading out the picnic
blanket in this blizzard.

Even my guides, hearty
descendants of Vikings,

feel today's a day to
move the picnic indoors.

Time to seek refuge in a snow hut.

Had we been here Saturday night,
this would have been a thriving hub of

activity, filled with gyrating naked
women, all in the throes of sexual frenzy.

Also, it would have
been an unbroken vista of

clear blue, steam issuing
from volcanic fissures.

It would have been a great show.

Instead of freezing my nuts off sitting
around with a bunch of guys getting drunk.

And eating well.

How do you say cheers around here?

Skull.

Skull.

Skull.

Skull.

Oh, I can do that.

Skull.

Okay, this is not what I planned,
exactly.

But it's good to come in out of the cold.

And I was able to recover my picnic
basket.

My new pals seem happy.

Beats the cold sandwich and sharksicles
these guys usually suffer through.

So this puffin thing, let's check that
out.

This is a cute little bird.

Yeah.

Women really, really like this bird.

Yum.

Yeah.

To eat or to...
No, just to look at.

Just to look at.

Yeah.

But they are delicious.

They are, yeah.

That's a problem.

If you're slower than me, stupider than
me, and you taste good, tough.

These lime chops, by the way, are amazing.

They look cute too.

It's good to be a chef.

My friend Siggy from the hotel really
hooked me up here.

Nice spread.

It could be another tourist calling for
help.

Yeah.

Yeah, I'm sure they'll be fine.

Tell them to just, you know, try to stay
warm.

Drink their own urine.

When we're done with the lime chops,
we'll go bail them out.

Just how cold was it, and
how long did it take for that

South American rugby team
to start eating each other?

Luckily, I won't have to find out the
answer on this trip.

As my intrepid pals of 4x4 super jeeps
with satellite navigation.

Back to the warmth and security of my
hotel.

I better call Siggy and have him make up
some more of that hot chocolate,

because I've got a big day coming.

Tomorrow kicks off with an annual Viking
feast of frightening proportions.

I survived my time in the wilderness,
and I'm starting to get sensation back in

my extremities, but
this whole late sunrise

thing is making me a
little lethargic and cranky.

How the hell do these people do it?

I need a less aerobic way of experiencing
the Icelandic winter.

How about a midwinter feast?

Mmm, hey, you know what I feel like doing?

I feel like seeing people
cooking the nether regions

of various animals that
have been cured in lye.

Hey, I feel like some fermented shark.

Come on!

Iceland's rugged terrain has forged a
resilient and independent culture,

fashioned over the years by the
descendants of the farmers and warriors

who fled the tyranny of medieval
Scandinavia.

This original lot was a tough
bunch, and haute cuisine

wasn't necessarily the
first thing on their minds.

But the ancestral
Viking culinary route has

not been forgotten, and
is honored each year.

What's it called?

The big party?

The festival?

Thoroblot.

Thoroblot.

And how long have you been preparing for
this?

It's been laying in Mifkasset since
September.

That's like... Six months?

Six months.

John and his cohorts have spent the last
half year prepping for this feast.

It's big business in Iceland.

So big that Thoroblot to go packs are
shipped to homesick vikings around the world.

Mmm, yummy sheep's head.

How many of these you got ready to go?

Oh, he's cute.

We got about maybe 900 heads going on
today.

900 heads.

That's a lot of head.

That's the famous shark.

That's the shark, yeah.

The famous shark.

Buried underground and allowed to
basically rot for six months.

A treasured national treat.

The meat is poisonous early in the
preparation.

Maybe that's why it's handled with rubber
gloves.

Or maybe because it simply stinks.

The sheep's testicles.

Oh, yeah.

Breakfast of champions, thank you.

Sheep's testicles.

That's not bad.

Here's where it all started.

That's the head cheese.

That's the head cheese.

Yeah.

Sheep's head.

Sheep's head, yeah.

But all the meat is stripped off,
the tongue.

The eyes, everything.

I mean, it's like testicles.

Head cheese.

The fatty part of the lamb.

Blood sausage.

Sheep's head.

Is there anything in there that,
you know, there's nothing normal?

By the way, what's it going to be like
tonight?

Is this going to be a serious,
insane-o party?

Yeah, yeah.

Oh, my God.

There's going to be a lot.

I really don't like it when somebody from
Iceland is telling me, Oh, my God.

It's really?

Yeah.

Completely insane behavior.

Okay, maybe this is not the most exciting
bunch in Iceland.

But they're nice.

They're fun.

And they know how to party in their
fashion.

You can really cut the excitement in an
ear with a knife.

Welcome, Minnesota Orthodontist Society.

Thanks for coming.

Today, we'll be discussing a painful and
prolonged surgical procedure.

And it only heats up from here,
folks.

The entire town of...
Have not shown up yet.

I think they died of boredom after last
year's event.

Either that, or they fell victim to a
vicious butter knife clash with a town of...

Do these things ever, like,
break out into senseless

butchery and violence,
long-simmering feuds?

Like, do any of these towns have,
like, you know, local rivalries?

If I'm looking at this age group,
I don't think so, no.

My friend, Maria, is from these parts,
thankfully.

And she's a seasoned Thoroblot veteran.

So, hopefully, she'll explain the finer
details of the festivities.

It is once a year.

It's a time period from January to March,
where Icelanders are basically celebrating

how we used to store our food in the old
days.

So, it's just something you really only
have to do once a year?

Yes, yes.

Sort of like a prostate exam.

Yes.

What did my old pediatrician say?

This will only be uncomfortable for a
minute.

Followed by, that wasn't too bad,
was it?

Yes.

Yes, it was.

Now, here's a buffet you're not going to
find in Las Vegas.

The lower jaw is supposed to be the good
stuff.

Let's see.

You have one of the cute ones here.

Yeah, he's looking good.

Mmm.

A little smoked lamb.

A little head cheese.

Mmm, testicles.

All good?

Oh, yeah.

Yeah, everyone's pointing at that.

Yeah.

Watch the American guy eat the fermented
shark.

One is strongly advised to drink Brenovan.

Lots of Brenovan.

Presumably to wash out the taste of stinky
shark.

Thank you.

They told me I shouldn't touch the shark
with my fingers.

Now, this is food I'm expected
to put in my stomach, but

they think that I shouldn't
touch it with my fingers.

I've actually never heard that before.

Oh, man.

That is, I think, the word unspeakably
nasty.

This is probably the single worst thing
I've ever put in my mouth.

Cheers to that.

Cheers.

Fuck, he said.

His brother, Bjorn, was so
ugly... when he was a child...

Yeah, they had a tie some
fermented shark around

his neck so the family
dog would play with him.

They are telling everyone
now that everyone here is going

to be world famous because
they are on the Travel Channel.

And that it's not a joke.

Show us your breasts.

It's Iceland chicks gone wild.

I was expecting like some out of control
renaissance festival.

Haunches of meat, drunken bar wenches,
axe-wielding vikings, belligerent trolls.

No one mentioned a sign seating or God
help us singing.

Oh yes, Icelandic doo-wop.

I'm putting this on my iPod.

I'll give you a good chance to see you.

Freebird!

Freebird!

Lest you think I'm a total ingrate, I do
think the Fun Boy 3 really had good voices.

And all the folks at the celebration were
very kind.

And the meal?

That was... alright, let's call it what it
was.

Worst meal ever.

It's not all who snouts and in this
country.

There are some really fine chefs doing
really good work.

And I'm gonna go find them.

In Iceland, I don't limit my means of
travel exclusively to doggy power.

Did you know that I was a champion
equestrian?

I miss those days on the riding circuit.

As an outdoorsman, a rough and ready,
rough and tumble sort of a guy.

With a deep feeling for nature, and
livestock, and the smell of animal feces.

This was, of course, always my preferred
method of transportation.

Ho!

Ho!

Trouble in town, ma'am?

No problem.

There better be a ham
sandwich in your pocket,

my friend, because
you're gonna have to eat it.

Come on, get him.

Come on, buttercup.

Let's move.

Come on, Rumsfeld.

Yeah, let's go.

Yeah, yeah.

Ho!

That's good.

Oh, yeah.

He smelled my.

I rode on top of him.

We had a bonding experience.

Yes.

Yes.

Looks just like Sarah Jessica Parker.

How old are you?

Oh.

There's no way you can survive these
winters on Putrid Shark alone.

There are plenty of good chefs in this
country keeping bellies full and happy.

A friend suggested I meet their associate,
Sigmar.

That he would hook me up with a really
good meal.

Sigmar, I'm cold, tired, hungry.

I need a drink.

Where are you taking me?

To a small restaurant whose name is Three
Frenchmen.

Oh, that's good.

But there is no Frenchmen.

Oh, that's bad.

But in Icelandic, it also means three
overcoats.

Hmm.

But in this case, it means some good
eating.

Now, there's something familiar.

It's kind of maddering.

It's healthy.

Especially with the shark.

Huh?

Here's a traveler's dilemma.

Do you risk insulting your proud host,
saying that you'd rather have a pack of

razor-toothed ferrets gnaw your toes off
and eat that stinking shark one more time?

Or do you keep quiet and eat?

I say, reluctantly, eat it.

Oh, good.

You look better, you know.

Some color on your face now.

I don't know if it's the brannamine or the
shark.

Maybe another one of these.

That was good.

Yes.

I kind of like that.

So, what should I eat here?

Fisthew.

That's our traditional...
Your signature dish.

Yes.

Oh, I'm going for that then.

Traditional Fisthew.

What kind of fish you put in here?

Cod.

Only.

All cod.

Yeah.

So, it's cod, onions, potatoes,
and a bechamel sauce spiced with curry.

It's called plak fiskar.

Oh, man.

That's good.

Oh, yes.

Yeah.

You see, if you're an Icelandic
person and you live abroad,

the first thing you have
when you come home is this.

Well, this is pretty damn good.

So, where does everybody come from in this
country?

Is everybody descended from Vikings or no?

We are a mixture of Vikings and Irish.

Because the Vikings,
they came to Iceland

because they didn't
want to pay taxes at home.

Right.

In Scandinavia, there was one strong guy,
Harald, who had run whole Norway.

The Vikings, they said, no, not paying you
anything.

We go to Iceland.

Then on the way, they said, well,
we don't want to work.

So, let's pick up some slaves in Ireland.

And then when the
Vikings was picking up the

slaves, they saw
some beautiful Irish girl.

So, they came home with seven guys,
but 11 girls.

Right.

So, that's the Icelandic nation.

Cutest Irish babes and the laziest
Vikings.

Yeah, true.

True.

That sounds pretty damn good to me.

That was awesome.

It's good.

This is what food should be.

I have many, many guests coming over here.

And sometimes, you know, some people do
not like to eat fish.

For instance, we have whale meat.

And many Americans say, oh, I never eat
whale, you know.

No, no, no.

I'd be happy to take care of this
diplomatic situation for you.

I'll be the official greeter for Iceland,
in fact.

If you don't like fish, and you're some
kind of a vegetarian, and you've got some

sort of, you know, weird
notions about whales, get your

candy ass back on the
plane and go to Disney World.

Thank you.

Thank you very much, Tony.

We will be near our hearts forever for
that.

So there you go.

I'm going to be held in the bosom of all
Icelanders.

Mom will be so proud.

Iceland makes the claim that its inhabitants
lived the longest lives on Earth.

And well, I haven't seen anybody die since
I got here, so it's got to be true.

It's all in the mud and rub spa culture,
Iceland style.

Okay, this place has all the ambience of
that movie Cocoon.

I was kind of hoping for a hip swinging
spa.

This is kind of a bummer.

This is actually a clinic
that combines modern

medical science with
Icelandic healthcare traditions.

Oh, what's the thick rubber glove for?

I hope that's from my producer.

He's into rubber.

Do you mind if I massage your glutes?

What's a glute?

With my glutes nice and tenderized,
I'm ready for the main event.

Ah, I'm okay.

Slide in.

Yeah.

Lean back.

Oh, yeah.

A certain element of trust is required in
this operation.

It's like this dried out.

It would be basically solid, wouldn't it?

Yeah.

You can see it in the other top.

Oh, yeah.

So if you forget and like leave me in here,
that would probably not be a good thing?

No, that would never happen.

You would say that.

Now, before you go
shoveling a bunch of dirt

into your bathtub,
this is therapeutic mud.

Special mud made with Icelandic volcanic
ash and a splash of geothermal water.

It would be just satiny smooth after this.

My skin will be lovely and emollinated
like J.

Lo's, but...

soft, supple, and moist.

What is with the rubber gloves in this
place?

Yeah, he's done.

Okay.

I feel like a loaf of well-baked bread.

Let's just take the most of the pay off
you.

Oh yeah, I can't go home like this?

I feel like I'm in the blue man group.

Now I feel kind of like a Zagnut bar.

Little crunchy little bits in
inappropriate places.

When in doubt, wrap the tourists in sheets
and blankets, put them in a dark room and

play them the miracle pan flute of
Zamphir.

Here's mud in your eye.

And up your ass.

That was nice.

Ready for a cigarette and a beer.

Oh yeah, that was a great scene.

Riveting.

You get to see my scrawny ass and bony
concave chest again.

Wasn't that fascinating?

See Tony lie in mud.

See Tony wallow in mud.

Oh, that was just magically invigorating
and healthy.

Next scene you get to see a high colonic.

Hey, maybe you'll get to see me clean a
bedpan.

Healthy, organic, and pure.

You'll notice by the way, anytime you hear
the word purity come up too often in

conversation, the sound of jackboots can't
be far behind.

Who knew mud baths would make me so angry?

I feel like drinking just out of spite at
this point.

Hey, health boy.

Suck this.

You know, maybe
there's still hope we could

run over Richard Gere
on the way back home.

I've had my fill of healthy.

I'm looking to go unhealthy.

Spitefully unhealthy.

Mmm.

That's good tobacco.

What time is it?

Who knows?

Who cares?

Doesn't really make any difference,
does it?

That's not good.

I will not deny that the lack of sunlight
alters one's state of mind.

Which may explain the fact
that 80% of Icelanders accept

the possibility that elves,
gnomes, and pixies exist.

Or were those trolls.

Suddenly, I feel like a Toll House cookie.

Or a Tom Cruise movie.

He's a short little fella.

Now, I'm not a huge fan of many
traditions, but Iceland does have a little

social activity that's key in surviving
the winter.

It's called Runtour.

A marathon, bar, nightclub crawl.

It's a Saturday night must.

Now, this is a tradition I can get behind.

You got a stomp?

Don't, Tom.

Up all night and drinking.

I can do that.

Yes, I'm good at this.

The fermented shark here.

Do you eat it?

I've tried it.

Do you like it?

Oh, it's good.

Good.

Okay.

You're a lying sack of s**t.

Yeah?

This guy's telling me the shark meat's
alarming taste has something to do with

the high concentration of waste product in
the animal's tissue.

So it's basically marinated in urine,
that's what you're telling me?

Ah, that explains the taste.

The chefs at the hotel
have put up some kind

of announcement on
the National Chef website.

So every culinary guru, chef, and cook
seems to have shown up to get hammered,

gossip, and behave badly.

Hey, there's my old friend Siggy from Vox
Restaurant.

And there's Bjorn.

And hey, there's John, the Thoroblot guy.

The sheep heads were too much for me.

After hauling fermented
fish and testicles out of

vats of acid all day,
I'll bet he needs a drink.

For America.

Or seven.

For America.

Goodbye, America.

Yay!

Woo-hoo!

Oh yeah, he's looking fresh.

Siggy may work at one of the best
restaurants in the country, but he knows

where to find the good stuff after a few
cocktails.

Well, you work at the best restaurant in
Iceland.

But what's the most popular restaurant?

The most popular restaurant?

It's probably the hot dog place.

Ah yes, in the midst of a heavy night of
drinking, I'm glad to see that even

Icelanders seek out the comfort of a good
old hot dog.

I've got to have one with what?

What do I say?

I want a hot dog with everything?

Eina.

Eina.

You're ordering for me.

Yeah, okay.

Ketchup.

There's mustard.

There's like curry sauce.

Yeah, remoulade.

Remoulade.

Yeah, yeah.

And crunchy.

Yeah, you're going to stay with
everything.

You're going to love that.

With everything.

Well, yeah, that's a good looking dog.

Cheers, dude.

Oh, that's good.

This is not really good.

This is the best.

This is deep glass and f***ing lone pigs.

Are you kidding me?

Maris Hilton got famous doing that.

Yeah.

So, our former
President Clinton... Yeah?

...ain here two weeks
before his heart blew a

gasket and he had to
have open heart surgery?

Yeah.

That's the mark of quality.

I feel a little pain in my tongue.

It hurts so good.

That's one serious dog.

2 a.m.

and things don't seem to be slowing down.

So, do all the chefs in Iceland know each
other?

Yeah.

Yeah, basically.

Hey guys, don't you know the guy?

Alain Boudin.

Alain Boudin.

Well, close enough.

In case you haven't noticed, people like
to drink in this country.

What's up, man?

Alain Boudin.

Well, I don't know.

For example, this guy.

This guy likes to drink in this country.

So, I kind of lost counterparts at this
point.

I get the general impression from my
fellow solid citizens.

It's gonna be a long, long, long night.

And so, we are almost at the point where
we say adjur to Iceland.

Let us only hope.

The last scene of this
show is not being curled up

in a shivering fetal
position on a cold tile floor.

This country is rife with volcanic
activity and steam vents.

And I say that's a good thing.

A very good thing.

Because Icelanders have
harnessed all that hot goodness and

have been hot tubbing longer
than any other people on Earth.

And well, swimming hole number one is the
Blue Lagoon.

Hi, I'm Anthony Bourdain from Playboy
After Dark.

Come on in.

This reminds me when
me and Peter Lawford and

Bill Cosby used to hang
out over at Heff's place.

Swinging.

Heff has nothing on these fucks.

Made up of two-thirds salt
water and one-third fresh water,

the water in the Blue Lagoon
is high in silica and algae.

Substance is known for their natural
healing powers.

It's 104 degrees of simmering goodness.

You wake up.

Feeling like you're
really just not sure

whether you want to
curl up into a fetal ball.

Start crying.

Rejectal vomit.

Or hang yourself in the shower.

The Icelandic thing to do is go to the
Blue Lagoon.

Marinate me.

Volcanic hot tub heated by a geyser.

And drink more.

Conveniently located on the way to the
airport, by the way.

I'll tell you, if I get a beer in me,
I just might make it onto that plane.

Oh, waiter!

It's Suntory time!

Life would be just perfect.

If only... I had a floating beer caddy.

Keep these coming.

I had a great time here, but it wasn't
exactly what I was expecting.

I have a couple of changes for that
tourism film.

There is a country in Europe.

Yeah, and it's called Iceland for a
reason.

That mild winter weather, sometimes
interrupted by ferocious blizzards.

Sorry about that.

Hey, no problem.

There's fun to be had.

Dog sledding on glaciers, horsey rides
across the frozen tundra.

Oh!

Right in the nuts!

Perverts.

And don't forget about the exquisite lamb.

Oh, yeah.

I think I ate that guy's.

A true Icelandic delicacy.

Not to mention some of the more tart nuts
available on the planet.

The strongmen train by day, and the beer
flows freely at night.

Practically, you know, threw up on the
breakfast nook.

A kill-yourself hangover?

No problem.

Take a refreshing dip in the Blue Lagoon.

Iceland.

The way a cold, dark, wintry, short
vacation should be.

Welcome to Iceland!

Vacation Wonderland!

I'm glad you enjoyed it.

Actually, I did.

Immensely.

Thanks.

I'm glad you are in.