Being an urban Faroese, it is sometimes wonderful to take some time off and leave Tórshavn to discover the hidden adventures of our beautiful country.
Last Sunday afternoon, my brother and I spontaneously decided to hitchhike northwards to the island of Kunoy to visit our friend Turið.
Hitchhiking is a nice way to discover the helpfulness of my countrymen, and it did not take long before we arrived at the Kunoy Bridge (or rather Kunoy-Dam), which takes you from the island of Borðoy to the island of Kunoy.
There, Turið picked us up in her violet car and took us to “her village” on the other side of the tunnel.
There are two villages on the island of Kunoy: Haraldsund on the eastern side and Kunoy bygd (Kunoy village) on the western side of the mountain.
The winter light, the silence and panoramic openness of the well-hidden village of Kunoy welcomed us as we drove towards the house of Turið’s parents, Jaspur and Jórun Kruse.
We were invited in to their small, neat and cozy 1930s house, where Jaspur, a retired sailor and artist at heart, showed me his paintings. The smallness of the house – which characterizes most of the houses in the village, it has to be said – added a charm and romantic feeling to it.
As darkness fell in the afternoon, the family invited us to a tiny, traditional cottage right next to their home, where Jórun had prepared a “drekkamunn” (a cup of coffee/tea with biscuits and other sweets).
I had heard about this renovated cottage and Jaspur’s creative ambitions, but never would I have imagined, that he had turned a former hay-barn into a house which you would normally only read about in fairy tales.
The last couple of years, Jaspur has put all his passion into a complete artistic renovation of this once dirty hay-barn. His ambition is to receive guests; once he has finished all the beds, that is. But that should not take too long, only a few months.
Jaspur always has a glimpse in his eyes when telling tales about his youth, about sailing throughout Africa and stuff, and his future guests are surely bound to enjoy his warm hospitality.
As night fell, my brother and I drove away, inspired by the architecture and personal stories, that the village of Kunoy had to offer.
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