On the faroe islands (essay and photo)

Re-posted by N.S.

"read a few interesting posts on the faroe islands recently. My trip report from a very brief visit a few months ago.
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the landscape is improbably three-dimensional and rough-hewn: rugged, jutted, serrated, cragged. in being fully denuded – the peaty soil, the atlantic winds,… pic.twitter.com/d8bElR0Tbh

— Patrick Collison (@patrickc) october 7, 2025

Patrick Collison @patrickc

Read a few interesting posts on the Faroe Islands recently. My trip report from a very brief visit a few months ago.

-- The landscape is improbably three-dimensional and rough-hewn: rugged, jutted, serrated, cragged. In being fully denuded – the peaty soil, the Atlantic winds, the centuries of overgrazing – it feels like an exaggerated, hyperreal version of the west of Ireland. It also reminds of a Patagonia stripped of the Andean backdrop.

Torshavn now boasts numerous excellent restaurants. It is a town of only 14,000 people: what’s going on? As far as I can tell, this is fully a story of cultural contingency: in 2011, “chef Leif Sørensen ended up essentially inventing Faroese haute cuisine all by himself”, opening the restaurant Koks. This is in a tradition of Norsemen defining new gastronomic cultures through force of will. In 2004, Claus Meyer and Rene Redzepi organized the Nordic Kitchen Symposium (supported by the government, it is interesting to note) and put forth the Nordic Kitchen Manifesto, setting in motion the forces that rendered Copenhagen the culinary capital it is today.

Little of note grows in the Faroes. They raise sheep; most of the rest they scavenge from the sea. Fermented lamb is a specialty. I ate it. I would not call it bad, but I won't rush to consume it again.

Over dinner, I chatted with a young couple from Liechtenstein. (Liechtenstein being the only other comparably-sized country in Europe, this seemed appropriate.) The woman worked as a diplomat in Brussels. She told me that the city was often unsafe and that there were many places she couldn’t go. That concept felt a far cry from Torshavn. Her boyfriend mentioned the heatwave back home; I asked about their thoughts on air conditioning. “It’s too energy intensive… one has to consider the greater good.” I point out that California’s abundant air conditioning is mainly powered by solar. “Yes, but still… it’s not good to use so much energy.” My optimism about Europe was not enhanced.

There are a lot of undersea tunnels in the Faroes, connecting the islands, with plenty of additional projects underway. As a Californian, these are a mystical luxury. How can a nation of 55,000 people (Petaluma has more), and poorer per capita than my home state, possibly afford them? Per-unit length costs appear to be almost 30x lower than California’s. For example, the 11km Eysturoyartunnilin opened in 2020, and was evidently constructed for $14M per km.

The bookstore contains many Faroese-language works. Approximately 200 new books are published each year; one for every 275 people. Ireland’s annual production is one for every 2,000 people or so.

What does one learn from the Faroes? It feels clearly to the betterment of the world that they exist. Some of this is in the natural splendor, but some is also in seeing what a micro-nation is capable of. Are the Faroes an example of how clearly-defined polities are a bottleneck for the advancement of the world? To the extent that cultures establish the preconditions for anything, and to the extent that appreciation for and consumption of humanity’s creations are among the most durable sources of welfare, should we want more Faroes? Do the Faroes, with isolation enforced by maritime tyranny, hint at what is lost in global integration? Did Patrick Leigh Fermor encounter a new Faroe Islands every day? There were around 27 different languages spoken in France in 1900. How does one like the Faroes and like globalization?