Atlantica - 01.04.2006, Page 47
AT L A N T I CA 45
FAROE ISLANDS a
seaside village of Skarvanes. I use the term ‘village’ loosely: Skarvanes is
seven brightly painted wooden homes, and a defunct corn mill. No school,
no post office or gas station, no restaurant, no bar, not even a simple, sod-
roofed church – a common fixture among the rocky stratas and precipitous
cliffs of these islands.
Electricity didn’t arrive in Skarvanes until the 1950s. There’s one road in
and out of this microscopic hamlet, and it’s approximately the width of a
Tibetan footbridge spanning the mighty Tsangpo River. That is: made for
exactly one. In this case, it’s one car. Barely. The road, rumored to have been
built using dynamite extracted from undetonated mines Hitler planted in the
ocean during World War II, is Poul Jákup Thomsen’s only gateway in and out
of his abode by the sea.
Thomsen, 50, who was born in Tórshavn, craves the simple life that exists
amidst the salty air and the whitecaps that surround his tranquil plot of land.
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