As we approached the
imaginary line separating Andorra from France, Mike and I both
realised we knew absolutely nothing about Andorra (including any
possible visa requirements for Mike...which we discounted quickly
based on EU merits). So the benefits of being in the tour industry
came into effect and I fired off an sms to Rob, a trip leader colleague...
“What can you tell us about Andorra?”.
His reply: “Not much
really, they're under French protection but speak Spanish. And
there's some good skiing there”.
Awesome. We'll work
with that. He didn't need to tell us how beautiful it was, that was
immediately apparent. After being waved through the border crossing,
we continued to climb into the mountains.
It was an overcast day and
we were soon enveloped in fog. For two antipodeans who grew up with
sun and beaches, this is still a novel experience. As we clocked up
the altitude, we heard a sort of pop
behind us somewhere. We both kind of ignored it until we heard it
again. This was a genius moment for Mike, “that sounds like we're
backfiring...but it can't be, it's a diesel...”.
Okay. The 3rd
pop clicked for me...we were climbing so high, our chip packets were
bursting with the altitude. That gave us a good laugh, and some extra
crunchiness in our sandwiches for lunch :)
The towns in Andorra
(both major ones are near the border on each side of the country) are
like they've leapt out of a storybook. Very quaint and so clean.
In
between them we passed closed ski lifts shrouded in mist, crested the
mountains in the middle,
avoided the cow on the road while coming
down the other side, and stopped for lunch overlooking the second
main town, Sant Julia de Loria.
I thought this was perfectly picturesque, until I belatedly realised
we were seated at a picnic table on fake
turf. Ugh. Apart from that, it was a gorgeous experience. Crunchy
cheese sandwiches and all.
Leaving
Andorra, Spanish border guards were requesting every vehicle open
their boots for inspection. I held back a groan. If they wanted to go
through everything WE had in the back, we might as well camp there.
The
border guard provided another genius moment for Mike... “Where are
you going today?”
“Oh, uh,
Spain.” Ahem. Perfect :) He managed to redeem himself by following
it up very quickly with a hasty “Barcelona”.
A
long winding drive out of the mountain ranges followed, punctuated by
glimpses of rural Spanish life. I had always thought Spain to be a
dry, dusty country but we drove through forests, alongside streams
and rivers and passed lakes and dams.
Barcelona
loomed upon us earlier than we expected, we'll let you know why that
was so good next...
