It was a proud moment for the Icelandic Phallological Museum when they received their first gray and wrinkled human specimen in 2011. The pickled penis came from a 95 year old man who had vowed to donate his little bits to the strange phallus shrine fifteen years prior. And the collection is set to, um... grow with another three donations promised from a German, an American and a Briton (in case you’re wondering, the American nicknamed his Elmo).

The museum, which is the only one of its kind in the world, openly encourages men to sign their members away—of course, the appendage is only taken once you die. So if you find yourself in Reykjavik (Laugavegur Street), and would like troves of women to gawk in awe at your cock for all of history, make sure to stop by and give a little endowment – afterall, this is the nutter’s list you’re reading.

If, on the other hand, if you’re of the female variety, you’ll want to put down your Fifty Shades of Grey and check out the museum purely for scientific reasons: is the old adage that size really does matter true?

With limited hours of daylight during the winter Icelanders had to get a bit creative in the entertainment department. Queue snow golf, the same traditional game, except played in the winter on snow.

To play, you’ll need a golf course (always recommended when playing the sport) – Lake Mývatn is a popular local spot. Next, find yourself a fluorescent ball, pink always helps to cheer the spirit, and a solid graphite club. Watch out for the greens, these are actually made of an ice surface for snow golf.

Challenge: If you want to pump up the entertainment factor, try the sport using a white golf ball instead.

Buried for two to six months, hakárl is an Icelandic delicacy served during the midwinter festival of Thorrablot –but, despite the innocent sounding name, the dish isn’t your traditional gourmand of French pastries and caviar.

Rotten shark, which either tastes like cheese or solid urine –depending on your taste buds—is the putrefied and decayed flesh of the fearsome carnivore – cured this way because sharks from the region are poisonous to eat.

To ease the potential gagging backlash, Icelanders recommend taking the dish with a shot of brennivin, which is equally vile.

Challenge: Feeling steely-stomached, we dare you to try the Icelandic delicacy of ram’s testicles.

With a nationwide beer prohibition until 1989, you can imagine the hurried frenzy that ensued over Iceland once the ban was lifted.

From cocktails to moonshine, a favourite concoction of Icelanders over the festive season is a combination of malt extract mixed with Applesin (Iceland’s answer to Fanta). The perfect mix of each is subjective; we suggest trying fifty-fifty and tweaking it from there.

Challenge: Put some hair on your chest with a shot of Brennivin, the caraway seed liquid is nicknamed the ‘Black Death’ and rightly so. If you really want to experience the suffrage Icelanders had to endure during the alcohol embargo, mix non-alcoholic beer with brennivin or gin –the taste is foul, but the end result the same.

The rúntur isn’t your run-of-the-mill pub crawl; it’s really just a wild weekend of debauchery that Icelanders use to pass away the dreary winter nights and endlessly seamless summer days.

After having guzzled down a few cold ones at home (drinking is prohibitively expensive in Iceland), you’ll hit Laugavegur Street in Reykjavik just after midnight and queue in line to enter vibrant nightclubs that only hours prior had been quaint restaurants (use this as your chance to meet others).

Once you’ve toured the neighbourhood in a drunken stupor you’ll make your way to the city’s most popular hot dog stand, Bæjarins Beztu Pylsur (try saying that when you’re drunk).

Tip: Remember, when you fall out of that club at five in the morning the light will prove your enemy. Bring some large sunglasses to provide a temporary refuge.