The villagers became occupied with a new industry. They were exporting dried salt cod to the Mediterranean. Every fishing boat that could float skimmed in and out of the bay. The fish was washed, salted, and then carried out on FISKASTYKKIÐ (the stone-paved ground) to dry.
FISKASTYKKIÐ was paved with stones, neat as a turtle shell, and the gaps between the stones provided a constant draught. The waves, beating into the gorge, carried the salty sea air with them. Yes, it's true – without the villagers and ambitious business people, there would be no fish to export. But it was first and foremost these weather conditions that made Faroese bacalao so famous around the world.
The villagers had their hands full: Men, women, children – everyone at work. And some of them are still alive and kicking. Every morning we're greeted by Estrid, who comes by habit because she used to work here in her younger years. And Jóannes, who spilt the big red paint stain on the middle of the floor. And Dánjal Petur, who recalls how he and other villagers, while visiting Bilbao, would try and pay off Spanish taxa drivers with Faroese bacalao.
Industries come and go. Even though there is no bacalao production here anymore, nothing really changed. The environment and the buildings are the same. And if you pay close attention, you'll hear the history somewhere in the next room. Footsteps. Silverware. The activity is still here. The villagers are still here. And last but not least, world-class fish and other delicious food.
Yes, FISKASTYKKIÐ is still here.