The Faroe Islands are marketed as a dream of cliffs, fog, lamb, and improbable turf-roof houses balanced against the North Atlantic. All of that is true, and none of it explains the place. The islands feel less like a destination than an argument against the modern travel industry. Weather interrupts plans. Roads disappear into tunnels. Villages look close on a map and remote in practice. Visitors arrive expecting cinematic isolation and discover a living society that is not especially interested in being reduced to scenery.