The story
Welcome to Tryggvagata, a street that perfectly captures the gritty, creative heartbeat of Reykjavik. As you walk along these blocks, you might notice that the atmosphere feels a bit different here—a little saltier, a little more industrial, and significantly more colorful than the primary-colored wooden houses of the nearby old town. The most common question guests ask when they arrive here is: why does this street feel like it belongs to the sea?
The answer lies beneath your feet. You are currently standing on reclaimed land. Historically, the cold waves of the North Atlantic crashed right against the jagged rocks where these buildings now stand.
Tryggvagata was named after Tryggvi Gunnarsson, a towering figure in Icelandic history who was a banker, a politician, and a visionary. He was instrumental in building the nearby harbor, and this street was designed to be the functional gateway between the ships and the shops. In the early 20th century, this was the edge of the world for Reykjavik’s merchant class.
If you look up at the towering murals, you’re seeing the result of a project called Wall Poetry. This is usually the second thing guests ask about. These aren’t just random splashes of paint or rogue graffiti.
In 2015, the Iceland Airwaves music festival collaborated with a group called Urban Nation to pair international street artists with musicians. Each mural is a visual interpretation of a specific song. That giant, haunting portrait or the abstract flow of colors you see on the sides of these concrete warehouses is literally the sound of the city rendered in spray paint.
It is what turned a once-drab industrial strip into the largest open-air gallery in the country. Then there is the sheer, imposing presence of the Tollhúsið, the Customs House. It is a massive, grey example of Icelandic functionalist architecture.
While the exterior looks stern and official, it hosts the soul of the city’s weekend trade. Inside is Kolaportið, Iceland’s only flea market. If your guests ask where to find the "real" unpolished Reykjavik, send them there on a Saturday morning.
It is a labyrinth of hand-knitted wool sweaters, rare vinyl records, and the infamous fermented shark. Just across the way, tucked inside the city library building, you’ll find the Reykjavik Museum of Photography. It’s a quiet sanctuary that houses over five million photographs, documenting how this very street evolved from a muddy shore to a cultural hub.
And of course, you cannot miss the scent of toasted onions wafting from Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur, the world-famous hot dog stand just a few steps away. It has stood its ground since 1937, serving everyone from local fishermen to visiting presidents. Tryggvagata is where the sea once was, and where the city’s modern spirit now flows.