PYLSUR means HOTGOD...I mean....hotdog.

I was waiting for Candice to get in from London and went foraging for food. I didn't particularly want to eat any of the exciting groceries that I bought because those were for breakfast. I am also not a fan of processed meat, but I'd bend the rules a little for a Pylsur. It's a hotdog, and together with Coke, it's Iceland's national food. And how can you go to a new country and not eat their national food?

I guess when everything cost twice what it did and was prohibitively expensive for anyone to do much else but look around, hotdogs were not exactly cheap, but they were affordable. I'm glad I didn't have to subsist on hotdogs and powerbars alone, but I'll say that after aimlessly wandering around with my energy levels waning, I pretty much NEEDED this hotdog. The wrapper was enough to charm the pants off me anyway.



I bought it from this cart, that had a discoball. You can charge everything to a credit card in Iceland. Even a $1.50 hotdog. From a cart. I broke out some bank notes and smiled apologetically when they asked if I had any coins, explaining that I had just arrived. The vendor squeezed a generous amount of brown looking mustard on the hotdog and said "Welcome and enjoy your first pylsur!" YEAH! CHOMP!



We found some of the suspicious brown mustard in the supermarket and although very cute, did nothing more to explain its contents. Is the hotdog running TO the sauce? Away from the sauce? Why is it running? Oh wait...it's because it's fast food....Sorry, I couldn't help it. It's not the most appetizing of sauce bottles and it's still a little bit of a mystery to me.