My primary plan was to do the Svartafoss visit some other day, but after I realized that I am half an hour by foot away, I rescheduled the visit from “tomorrow” to “right about now, yes, let’s go, go go!”.

To approach Svartafoss, you need to walk through a populated area which looks like it came from a fairytale. To call it the real life Hobbiton would be pretty much precise. It is very obvious that the city/the state invest a lot of resources in making these islands very eye-catching to the tourists. Everything is very tidy and Germany-like, there are no messy lawns anywhere, old and ruinous buildings and similar stuff. They KNOW they are in charge of a beautiful country and their duty is to make it presentable for the tourists. This made me so happy.

Svartafoss was fantastic. My expectations from the local weather were non-existent; I follow strictly the principle of accepting every weather which goes over me without groaning because the rain started, so nothing could bring me down.

Upon my arrival I saw a family who brought a few photographers to take photos of their kids by the waterfall. They were dressed in traditional faroese sweaters and were sitting and playing with wooden toys. Even though I stepped back, in order to give them some peace, they insisted that I take photos first.

So I did, and I was very pleased and happy to be there.

The words cannot describe this beauty.