In 2017, Alexandra Yinksd had a problem.

I needed to get to Reykjavik, and I was up here in the West Fjords.

Normally, the drive takes around six hours, but this particular day there was a massive snowstorm.

I didn't feel comfortable driving in the snow and so a friend drove me all the way down to Reykjavik and what normally takes six hours took many more because we got stuck on a mountain pass in the snow and had to wait for a plow to come dig us out.

After about 10 hours in the car, they finally made it and they checked into a hostile and exhausted she plopped herself down at the bar.

And there next to her on the bar was a cheeseburger and fries. But not a cheeseburger and fries.

But not a cheeseburger and fries that she could eat. This cheeseburger and fries, they were on display,

in a glass case, like a guest of honor.

With a little sign that said,

Hello, I have Mr. Berger.

And it had been such an awful day, and I just sat at the bar next to this

cheeseburger and it actually made me feel better. It was just such like a

a quirky thing. It's so Iceland.

This wasn't just any cheeseburger.

It was very specifically a McDonald's Big Mac.

And it wasn't just any Big Mac either.

I'm Delantheress and this is Atlas Obscura, a celebration of the world's strange, incredible,

and wondrous places.

Today a visit to the last Big Mac in Iceland and the story it tells about economics and national identity.

But that da da da da. That's after this. Alexander might be the perfect person to have ended up sitting next to the last Big Mac in Iceland.

She's from Pennsylvania but has lived in Iceland for years and is getting her PhD in

anthropology and she sees the Big Mac as a cultural artifact. I thought that it was a

...