Imagine this.

Two Americans walked into an enormous dining room looking for breakfast before they leave, both sleepy, thrown together and hung over. As they walked in, they noticed they were surrounded by 50 of the most professional looking people.
    
We were seated, much to the dismay of the waiter, and after being handed our plates, we set off towards the American side of the breakfast tables. There were bowls of fruit, bacon, eggs; things we expected.

We looked over towards the Icelandic side, and there was unrefridgerated yogurt, lamb, fish and a container marked in red Icelandic letters; things we didn't expect.

The strongest, most unpleasant odor drifted upwards. Even more determined to finish what I started, I reached in, and took out what looked like a cube of white meat on a toothpick. Being an adventurous eater, I wandered over with my plate, and made a dividing line down the center, determined to fill one-half with these new breakfast foods.

I opened the container first, the letters I can only look back and assume were a warning. As I did, the strongest, most unpleasant odor drifted upwards.

Even more determined to finish what I started, I reached in, and took out what looked like a cube of white meat on a toothpick.

I grabbed some lamb and a cup of unrefridgerated yogurt and headed back to our table.

After twenty minutes of starring and comments from my brother on the smell, I shoved the meat-ish substance in my mouth, chewed a few times for taste and swallowed.

Now think back. Sometime in your life, you've eaten something that you thought tasted terrible. Worse than terrible. Now take that, and multiply it by a thousand. Then add the taste of sulfur and ammonia.

I started choking, grabbing for anything I could find. The waiter, watching unknowingly, walked over and started laughing, handing me a napkin. He laughed, I glanced and after a few minutes, he said,

"How did you like the Hakarl?"
"What?"
"The Hakarl."

"What?"

After a few confusing minutes of this, he finally told me it was fermented shark meat. If you don't know what fermenting means, imagine a dead shark, now let it rot for six to 12 weeks. It was awesome.

We were about 75 percent of the way to our first stop; something called Eden. Never go. Actually, I take that back. If you want to see a warehouse in the middle of Iceland full of flowers and fake plants, go to Eden. Awesome.

On the upside, we went to see a waterfall the size of Dallas, geysers, glaciers and the place where the tribes of Iceland would go to meet every ten years. This is going to be amazing.