ACCEPTANCE IN THE FAROE ISLANDS.

SPANIARD ADUR LETAMENDIA PERCHED PRECARIOUSLY ‘TWIXT LAND AND SEA, PERHAPS METAPHORIC FOR THE FAROE ISLANDS, AN ANCIENT, WINDSWEPT SCANDINAVIAN ARCHIPELAGO HALFWAY BETWEEN ICELAND AND NORWAY, SO OLD AND WEATHER-BEATEN AS TO FOREVER RESIST CHANGE, ITS DAILY WINDS RESONANT WITH ISOLATION. SERGIO

Gunnar, the serene blond manager of my Tórshavn hostel, leaned back in his squeaky desk chair and watched the morning rain pelt his office’s double-paned window.

“Here you get all seasons in one hour,” he said quietly. The wind shrieked. Black clouds arched over the town. Twenty minutes prior there was a snow flurry; forty minutes prior there was blue sky. Tórshavn, population 19,000, is the largest city in the Faroe Islands and yet it is Europe’s smallest capital. Gunnar loves his hometown.

“The air is warming up now,” he said. “Should be a fine day.”

“I was thinking of taking a drive,” I said.

“Better to wait for the rain to stop. Here, let’s have some coffee.” He led me to the hostel’s small, cluttered kitchen, and with pride he showed me his new high-tech, stainless steel, French-made espresso machine.

“This is the future of espresso. I am going to sell these machines. The people here, they will thank me!”

I hadn’t had caffeine in nine months, but something about the Faroese rain condoned it, so I sank a few cups of espresso while chatting with Gunnar.

BOOSTING