At Smiðjan Brugghús, a cute brewery in the charming Icelandic coastal town of Vík, the atmosphere is wonderfully laid-back.
The taproom’s decor bears familiar markers of craft beer culture: chalkboard beer lists, pendant Edison bulbs casting a warm glow, tanks on display, and plenty of hipster-looking merchandise on offer. In many respects, Smiðjan resembles countless taprooms I've come across in my travels.
As I sip my way through a beer tasting flight, my eyes are drawn toward the mountains beyond the window. It’s pissing down with rain, admittedly nothing new for the people of Vík, one of the wettest places in the country. The miserable weather, the black sand of Vík’s volcanic beaches, the relentless fury of the ocean, and the tiny population of just 750 souls all coalesce into an aura of tranquil isolation that is quintessentially Icelandic. A perpetual gloom that Icelanders notoriously somatize with their rather reserved demeanor.
While this constitutes part of Icelandic culture’s appeal, it also creates challenges for socialization, both among locals and with the many tourists who pass through Vík on their way from Reykjavik to some of the country's most popular sites.
I take a more nuanced look at the people seated around me.
Distinguishing between locals and tourists suddenly becomes a puzzle.
I feel a connection unlike any other I've experienced during my Icelandic journey, eventually appreciating the subtle role that this cozy bar plays in fostering intra- and inter-community interactions.
Smiðjan Brugghús isn't merely a shelter from Vík's relentless elements; it serves as a neutral ground where the social barriers that typically separate locals from tourists dissolve over the shared enthusiasm for a quality pint.
Smiðjan may feel and look like any other taproom on the surface, yet it’s precisely such a cosmopolitan nature that betrays its real value: a social refuge for the people of Vík, and a connecting bridge for those who visit.
Words + Photo by Jacopo Mazzeo