Anonymous apparition astray in Andorra

Hola.. It's been a while. I know.. Lots has happened since my last post and I really did come dangerously close to ditching this futile attempt of a log.. So close.. But, I'm back and I did say from the very outset that the silence would be deafening.... 

This time, I've decided to commit my traipsing around in a tiny Andorran portion of the mighty Pyrenees to words. The Pyrenees in January can only mean one of two things = snow-hunting season has begun to ease my snowboarding itch or the search for the abominable snowman. Before reading this sad attempt of a record, consider the possibility of the latter over the former. 

Anyhow, considering the former option as the more likely candidate, there is always something quite exhilarating when after a nine-month hiatus from any snow, one finds oneself strapped back onto that board that has been longingly staring at you. I certainly don’t count the times when I’ve caught myself putting on my boots and strapping myself onto the board in the comfort of my 27°C bedroom in the tropics like a crazed woman. Strapping it on for real, on snow, and getting on the chairlift and looking down at the run you’re about to ride down from is really an indescribable sensation, probably akin to being reacquainted with a long lost friend. 

For a poor snowboarder like me, there’s a fair amount of trepidation laced with a small tinge of fear, out of the corner of your mind when you question whether you might have forgotten how to ride, or perhaps the prospect of utter humiliation when you fall on your ass as you alight from the chairlift. Sidenote: As a unbreakable rule, I never EVER take the T-bars, because to be quite frank, I absolutely, most definitely, unequivocally and unquestionably HATE T-bars. To me it was invented as a cruel (even borderline evil) joke by two-plankers on us snowboarders. 

Back to my random train of thought, so what if I fall? I’ve always maintained that my sole purpose of being on a snowboard is to provide entertainment to the other patrons. I get a good laugh at myself for worrying too damned much! And when I do fall, I cannot help but laugh at myself, much to the entertainment of everyone else! Mission: Accomplished!

Anyway, after mustering whatever little grace there is left in righting myself and strapping on my goofy foot, I set off. My goodness, to be back on my gorgeous board.. After some time, it does come back to you as you get reacquainted with riding the board. Up and down you go, tumbling off every now and then, righting yourself again, it all comes back, the good, bad and ugly. All of it!

I know a couple of my instructors from past excursions would be hopping up an down if they were to see me at my latest destination – Vallnord in Andorra. Yes, Andorra. Thank goodness, they are halfway across the other side of the world! Hehehe! Worry not, how can anyone ever forget Tayler’s constant sitting down on chair analogy while making the heel turn or Megu’s “keep your back straight!” reminders. That, as well as Bianca and Dario’s constant aide memoire to look where the heck I want the board to go, and not down the blasted mountain.

The Principality in the Pyrenees: Andorra 

OK, a little bit about this principality of Andorra, the sixth smallest nation in Europe, nestled in the Pyrenees mountain range between France and Spain. In addition to its tax-haven status, it is almost akin to a shopping (and probably, banking) asylum for residents of the European nations either in its immediate vicinity or slightly beyond. Even though it is not a member of the European Union, it actually doesn’t have its own currency, though everything is traded exclusively in Euros €. 

Anyway, there is an entire street (Av. Meritxell) dedicated to mid- to high-end brands you will recognise. It stretches from the hub of Andorra la Vella all the way up into Escaldes-Engordany. From a Mango outlet store to Bauhaus, Zara to Bershka, hubbies, beware! For a non-shopper like me, who cares not for the perils, ills and trappings of high-street retail therapy, it’s amusing observing the scrunched up faces of partners as they watch their better (or worse) halves, unleashed into the mayhem that is shopping. Rest assured oh those of the opposite sex, all hope is not lost as there are a plethora of sports shops to explore. My three favourites are Tiki Snowboards, ESports Yeti, Kilvil and Viladomat (the latter two being a large chain of sports shops) who have, hands-down, the nicest shop attendants ever. There’s even a massive cycling shop, for those inclined. 

A view of Andorra La Vella (sort of) from Andorra's famous Caldea Spa

By the way, my advice is change whatever currency you have into Euros BEFORE you arrive here. The local banks charge an astronomical fee on top of the exchange rate to change any amount of money; that’s unless you’re changing like a billion US Dollars into Euros, then by all means change (treading lightly here) your money here.



How the pin dropped on the map

Andorra was actually recommended to me by several people, one of whom talked me into it when I saw him at last year’s MotoGP test as I was about to depart for the wonder that was Norway. He said, I paraphrase, “why do you go to Norway? You should try Andorra!” Honestly, it would be very unfair for me to compare the two countries, but I think if you were to put a gun to my head, I would hands down pick the Scandinavian winter wonderland, home of the mythical Norse deities, despite not meeting Loki-aka-Tom Hiddleston.. Why? Well, in a nutshell, Norway is absolutely gorgeous in every sense; from its jaw-droppingly breathtaking landscape to its wonderfully warm charm, even if it is ridiculously expensive and will break the bank in more ways than an outright atomic explosion.

Before I lose it and go on and on about my Nordic experience, I’ll (reluctantly) come back to this small principality. Prior to coming out here, without being egged on by my MotoGP acquaintance, I had read about the historic significance of the Pyrenees, particularly during my reading obsession with Hannibal’s Punic War campaign against the Romans and his overland march across the Iberian Peninsula over the Pyrenees as he sought to punish the Roman Empire. 

So the thought of strapping myself onto my board to ride down what might have been relatively close to one of Hannibal’s army crossing was quite something, even if it is as relevant as cheese is to wallpaper. If you haven't figured it out by now, I am strange, so stuff like that was special to me OK?!

The one and only time I managed to grab a picture of the range, on the gondola up to the station

Having taken the 10,620km trip across I do not know how many time zones, I stepped off the plane in Barcelona before continuing the 200+ kilometer journey by road up to Andorra. I do not know a single soul in Andorra, as is typical in my solo-snowboarding trips. Having had the experience of meeting a wonderful Uruguayan lady in Barcelona, my spirits were quite high. However, as I stepped off the bus in Andorra la Vella, amongst the first thing that greeted me were stares, and lots of it. That isn’t exactly unusual as I normally get stared at as if I have a huge massive witch’s wart on my nose. I am used to it, though I am seriously considering including a proper rustic broomstick and a proper cape instead of a snowboard jacket to my travel ensemble. It would at least legitimise the stares.. Pfft..

Unfortunately, the stares did continue unabated, which did get on my nerves throughout my stay. During my travels elsewhere, it would stop after a couple of days as the novelty of having an Asian-looking girl travelling by herself wore off. And in places like Norway, Switzerland and Austria, I guess once the locals have seen you more than once, they tend to go past the, “oh, look she’s a tourist from Asia,” phase and move about their daily lives and even holler a greeting at you. Here, in Andorra, I continued to endure the scrutinising stares right through from locals and a handful of other tourists through to the end, which is undoubtedly the most uncomfortable thing one can possibly endure.

Though I have harnessed my power of ignorance to a level 1 sorceress stage (one step shy of being a super mage), it does get to you. That did limit my ability to go out exploring a bit, confining the bulk of my time exclusively to the pistes, which is fine by me, really.

With the opportunity to breathe in views like these, I much preferred the company of the mountains

Thereby wanting to confine my time to spending as much time getting to know my snowboard riding it on the slopes, there is one little feedback I would probably offer the powers-that-be in Andorra. Re: skiing / snowboarding tourists wanting to go up to your many resorts - my one constructive feedback would perhaps be to consider increasing the frequency of the free skibus that runs between your beautiful little towns. The irregularity of them makes for a rather chilling wait at the appointed bus stops, which is more often than not, a superbly and insanely long one. Thank goodness for me the weather was especially and perhaps unusually warmer than it should have been in mid-January. Be it down to El Niño or the blue planet shifting axis.. I have no clue. Anyway, had the wait been in the sub-zero temperatures I had to endure in Niseko, I might have been tempted to hitchhike or begged the Coca Cola deliveryman to drop me in La Massana or Ordino-Arcalis.



Stumbling on Charm, Tripping on Kindness

Despite the exhausting wait, there is a flip side, really! You will not be suffering alone, which opens up the possibility of meeting all kinds of people, from all walks of life. I became acquainted with two Argentineans who were wonderfully friendly and we got off talking about all kinds of things. Sadly, I don’t speak any Russian, so I couldn’t really converse with the large Eastern Slavic ethnic group I found myself with on the daily ride up the mountain.  However, I would say, the most important individual I got to know was perhaps the bus driver. 

If you have a sad enough looking face, he’ll take pity and even offer you a seat next to him and even drop you right off on the street you want to be, well, close enough. He’ll recognise you and even if the language barrier is as complex as deciphering the runes on a Dwarfish burial temple, you will kinda guess what he’s trying to convey to you. He even went so far as to once “rescue” my board from the fate of being buried under a landslide of skis, saving it from the torment of scratches, bumps and bruises, nestling it right next to him. Thank you Mr. Bus man!! You have no idea how grateful I am. Alas, it did get scratched on later trips when you were not on driving duty. *sad face*

Avoiding the town centre, you do get to meet some extremely interesting people. Undoubtedly, I find the people I meet anywhere in the world to be quite interesting. I befriended a lovely Argentinean girl I met on one of those arduously long waits at the bus stop, who not only decided to offer unsolicited advise on what to ask the bus driver, but became a great companion as we ended up spending the entire journey talking in English. I begrudgingly admit that I found that to be a very refreshing change to the predominant Eastern Slavic language that I had become rather accustomed to listening to from Alexei, Vitaly, Dmitry, Ekaterina, Zoya, Oksana and their comrades during my trek up to the piste. 

On another separate occasion, I met her fellow compatriot who also offered to help when quite frankly no one else seemed to care, as we battled the insane crowd trying to get on a bus already bursting at the seams. Though I did manage to get on that blasted bus, I didn’t sit with the Argentinean boy but ended up being offered a seat next to three Brits, the first I had seen in many many days. The trio were very cool and befriended this poor Asian girl. Nice guys! 

Pal-Arinsal

Overall, the majority of the people I met in Andorra were not from Andorra, Spain or even France. A large Dutch ski group I met while riding down one of the longest runs I have ever been on in the short time that I had been snowboarding were insanely hilarious, creating quite a ruckus, and made me chuckle as they politely asked me in Spanish to take a picture of their rather eccentric assemblage. When I answered in English, they were overwhelmingly nice and almost embraced me as one of their own, thus befuddling me. Another Dutchman in another group of tourists was also rather friendly asking if I had ever lived in New York (oddly), which started a prolonged conversation about the Rockies and Whistler, suspiciously much to the chagrin of his Spanish girlfriend, whoops. Come on lady, one look at me, and you really cannot possibly think that I would be a threat of any kind! Lol!

Ordino-Arcalis

Anyhow, I once watched a travel documentary that in certain places, some group of tourists from certain parts of the world tend to be more inclined to help other tourists. Given my experience in Andorra, I am inclined to agree, though I must employ a caveat that my experience is by no means exclusive or conclusive or can be categorical proof of any kind. It would be a gross overgeneralisation on my part to say that my experience in the Pyrenees was completely shaped by other visiting tourists from either South America or Northern Europe, as there were those residents who were incredibly nice, in particular, the dude at Kilvil who went above and beyond to gift me a book that I could share with my dad. Very cool guy, thanks Mr. Silver-hair!


Shredding Sideways in the Pyrenees 

I've just realised that I have not mentioned my semi-neophyte non-native experience on snow in any length anywhere in this narrative, my sincere apologies. After some research online, which is by no means the most extensive, I opted on exploring Vallnord, which is home to the two resorts of Pal-Arinsal and Ordino-Arcalis. 

Once you alight the gondola from La Massana, this is amongst the first views of Pal-Arinsal (more Pal actually) in Vallnord

The primary reason is purely cost as the Vallnord lift tickets are not as pricey as some of the preferred Alpine resorts or even neighbouring Granvalira, which is more famous (as it hosts major skiing events in the FIS calendar). The cost factor alone made Vallnord an attractive place for a skiing / snowboarding holiday for the budget conscious especially those hailing from parts of the world where the currency exchange can make one weep for months on end like your's truly. 

Anyway, access to the Pal-Arinsal resort is via La Massana or Arinsal, which is the closest to Andorra La Vella. Ordino-Arcalis meanwhile is a quite a bit further away, located in the northern part of the principality. 

The majority of people I speak to suggest Ordino-Arcalis for snowboarders. On top of the beautiful but long bus ride up, there are more off-piste areas to explore, the runs longer and wider. At the time I went in mid- to end-January, the snow cover (however little) was also a bit better than Pal-Arinsal at the mid-station. 

The views are quite astonishing especially on the La Bassera chairlift that takes forever to get to the top of the run. It goes up almost vertical in parts, facing the rocky cliff face of the mountain, it was admittedly a scary yet slightly exhilarating ride up for me especially if you look behind from where you took off.. 

The views from the bottom of Ordino-Arcalis, with the La Bassera chairlift just visible at the bottom left corner

The reds are hard (in my non-professional and rather beginner opinion), and superiorly daunting as you can see the entire way down from the side of the mountain. The other two chairlifts, doesn't go up as high as La Bassera, but offers up blue and red runs that takes you through pretty tree lines.. And there are the off-piste areas, which while I was there was being used by some professional group of freestyle skiers and snowboarders. Me? I stood in awe watching these guys and gals throw themselves off a temporary shelf from the peak. 

The snow, in this weird springtime climate during my time here in January, was invariably better and more powdery (not by Whistler or Niseko’s standards, of course) in Ordino-Arcalis. Even the green-run on the long 8.5km Megaverda takes you through some stunning scenery, nothing my iPhone camera could do justice to. 

Pal-Arinsal is not that bad, but was insanely crowded (especially on the weekends) and there are those evil and wicked T-bars. *gagging* But, Arinsal is worth a trip up if you're not averse to those damned T-bars. Me, I unfortunately avoided it as I wasn't feeling particularly adventurous that week, therefore rendering this narrative pretty useless to anyone who wants to know more. 

This is the view of the massive O located on the green  Megaverda run, which is a must stop for skiers / 

snowboarders of any levels

Sorry, I am no expert nor an authority in this subject. There are plenty of videos on youtube where you can see how the run from the Arinsal station looks like. My Argentinian friend on skis did go up, and the snow is more powdery than at the middle-station. Before I draw the ire of more accomplished skiers and snowboarders wanting more information, I shall draw a line here on my limited and poor narrative on the snowboarding experience especially my sole intent was to tighten up my riding skills. 


Bottom Line

As I bring this average narrative to a close, I would also say this, if your purpose coming to this little corner of the planet is to enjoy the snow with your two-planks or snowboard, I would strongly recommend coming in a group, not for any security concern, but rather to keep your sanity intact and as a strong deterrent against utter and complete boredom off the slopes. If you are intent on a solo travel, then make sure to stay near to the towns that have access to the ski-lifts. Staying downtown may sound like an attractive idea with the prospect of more dining or shopping options, but if you’re on a budget and are going to rely on the free ski-bus, then be prepared for the absurdly long wait. If your wallet is bottomless, then by all means fork out the €1.80 per trip on the local communal bus. 

Anyway, if you’re like me, Asian, novice rider and solo, and do decide to make downtown your preferred option for accommodation, then steel up the nerves and ignore the stares. Bring a big fat book (I brought Gav Thorpe's bumper Warhammer Time of Legends Omnibus The Sundering) and shut out the crowd with Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart's entire Die Entführung aus dem Serail opera blasting out of your massive headphones. 

Travel, like anything is about experiencing everything, good or bad, and to that end, I am really happy with my choice, even if not preferred, especially looking from the skewed lens of having had a great experience somewhere else. It is a beautiful country to look at with jaw-dropping views of the Pyrenees. Suffice to say, I am grateful to the few individuals who made my up and down two-week sojourn in Andorra memorable in every sense. 

moltes gràcies!

Another pathetic attempt of a selfie by the author