Faroe Islands Day 3: In which we Accidentally Kidnap a Dog

Following our Copenhagen whirlwind and two days of stunning hiking throughout the northern islands, it was time to gallivant our way to the "big city." Our final two nights in the Faroe Islands we'd be staying in the same hotel, the only two days in a row that we were kept consistent sleeping quarters! (Which meant I didn't have to keep my suitcase tidy for once!) You know what they say, prone to wonder, prone to wander... 

Thursday

• For those who love treasure maps - here is today's journey! Well, mostly. The part you can't see from this one is the fact that we didn't drive to Kirkjubøur, we walked. From Tórshavn. There and back again, like devoted hobbits off on an adventure. More on that to come...
• After breakfast at our hotel in Runavík, we left for our "final" home for the Faroes: Tórshavn, the capital and largest city on the islands (the population of the town and its surrounding area is the size of Marshfield, Wisconsin - for reference). 
• Originally, I had ambitious plan to ferry to the island of Suðuroy, but based on timing we opted to stay closer. This meant we could take our time driving along the coast to get to Tórshavn. In fact, we decided to overshot the city and instead explore the nearby village of Velbastaður, one of the oldest settlements in the islands.

I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain, comin' down on a sunny day?

• Meanwhile, back in Tórshavn, since it still wasn't time to check in, we went to the "largest mall" in the Faroes (the SMS). Got a good kick out of that. It's rather small when compared to an American mall, but had a few cute shops and a grocery store - so we were able to snag a few random gifts for people to bring home. The SMS also has one of the only fast food spots on the islands (they are one of the only European countries without a McDonald's): a Burger King, which we did not partake in. 
• From there, we wound our way through the tiny streets (later we had to back our way up a hill and around a corner because the road just became someone's front stoop without warning - typical of all villages in this country) and headed towards the harbor. 
• We had an amazing lunch at The Tarv (a place I had stalked on Instagram for months before going), on what was yet another perfectly sunny day.* We order pintxos, which I chuckled and apologized for not being able to pronounce, to which our waiter replied, "It's Spanish..." Despite my being dumber than a box of rocks when it comes to alternative naming conventions for what are basically tapas, we later had a right good chat about how I was an Instagram fan girl of their establishment. 
• After lunch, we checked into our badass grass roofed hotel (Hotel Føroyar). We honestly thought we were on the first floor, looking out right into the grassy knoll overlooking the town. Wrong-o! Our room was on the second floor, overlooking the grass ROOF of the floor below us! (Good thing I didn't follow through on climbing out the window to walk outside...)
• All checked in and ready to go, we headed to the edge of town to start our two-hour hike to Kirkjubøur. At the start of the trail, we made new friends with two of the HANDSOMEST sheep dog. They loved us, and we loved them. And THAT, my friends, is when we accidentally stole a dog.... 

I don't even LIKE dogs, but I loved these dogs more than life itself.

• For eight kilometers, as we hiked from one village to the next, the one dog followed us. Every gate or barricade we got to, I'd say goodbye and wish him well, and shed a little tear for my puppy I was leaving behind.... and then he'd hop over or crawl under said gate and happily run ahead. Eight. Kilometers. Over a mountain. 
• He would not be deterred. Every time the beau tried to shoo him to go back home, he'd just look happily at us, head cocked, tail wagging - like we were the funniest, nicest humans he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. And even though I dislike / am rather allergic to dogs... I loved that puppy and we were best friends. I named him Idéfix, after the dog sidekick in the French Asterix comics. Because, like in the comics, he was my sidekick, and, with my allergies, it was comical.
• We followed the trail of rock piles. Yes, just rock piles. You could go out, set up a bunch of rock piles and lead tourists off a cliff - such was our trust of those piles. 

ROCKin' it - with our faithful puppy!

• In Kirkjubøur, we had some other tourists comment on how friendly our dog was. And when a much bigger dog came over to shit-kick our puppy, he hid right behind me, his mama, for protection.... And then he decided he liked some other people better and started following them instead.... So no, he didn't follow us back over the mountain to his home and real family. Or maybe that wasn't his home in the first place even, and he was actually from Kirkjubøur. We will literally never know. All I know is that that adorable dog broke my heart outside of Saint Olav's Church! (jokes...ish.)

On the edge of heaven's gate...

• After examining the old church and ruins along the coastline in Kirkjubøur, we hauled ass back up the cliffside (read: I died sans inhaler while the beau remained posed and gazelle-like), without our canine companion, and back to the capital, because it was getting late. No, we weren't worried about the sun setting, because like the British Empire, the sun never seems to set there. No, it wasn't darkness that drove us onward, it was hanger. This girl was worried about getting FOOD.
• Not just any food. Sushi. Fresh Faroese fish, wrapped up in sushi goodness. etika. etika Sushi is where we found peace after the loss of the dog that we accidentally stole. We made it just a half hour before they were closing and dug into langoustine, salmon, and other local sourced noms. It was brilliant.

En route back to our grass-topped hotel, "House of the Rising Sun" randomly came across the Faroese airwaves. From our hotel window, we could see the dense fog that had rolled over the harbor. The clouds reached their breaking point, and it started to sprinkle. It was the only rain we saw the entire trip - despite the fact that it had been pouring rain for the past three months straight. It was perfect weather for this exhausted adventurer to pass right the hell out.

"And it's been the ruin, of many a poor boy..."

* Given the number of photos I've seen of waterfalls blowing uphill due to erratic weather in the Faroes, we really lucked out.