Gavarnie

I wouldn't say that winter is my favorite season, especially because it's simply four months of rain here in Bordeaux, but it is slightly more bearable when there are fun wintery activities to do nearby. 2014 was all about Andorra but this year, we checked out Gavarnie, a small town in the heart of the Hautes-Pyrénées. Just like last year, we conned Rick into coming with us and our Kiwi friend Laura tagged along, too. What else were you planning to do with your Valentine's Day weekend?

Much like many of the other small towns in the area, there is about one road that runs through with a few restaurant/bar/hotels next to a bunch of souvenir/ski rental shops. The towns have what you need, but don't expect anything fancy. We stayed at Hotel L'Astazou, and the only thing worth mentioning about it is the owner: a small, raspy-voiced woman who smokes like a chimney (although she has "cut back") and would happily hold you up all day, talking your ear off about everything that's wrong with the world. She was nice enough but if you choose to stay there, expect 20 minutes of chatting upon entering or exiting the hotel.

Friday night was fairly low-key in preparation for a day on the slopes on Saturday. Everyone but Rick had to rent gear and the process went very smoothly and quickly. The ski station is about a 15-minute drive from the town of Gavarnie, straight up a fairly windy road. There is a bus that leaves from town but it only has a few departures and returns each day. In sharp contrast to Andorra, we got our boards, drove up to the station to buy our passes and we were on the lifts in less than an hour, and for about half the price. There are "only" 28 pistes in Gavarnie in comparison to literally the entire country of Andorra being one giant ski slope, but with our limited snowboarding abilities, we were perfectly happy with the offerings.

We couldn't have asked for a better day weather-wise. It was cold and windy, sure, but that's any mountaintop in February. We had some sun and some clouds, and while our faces got a little shredded with icy snow on the lifts, every time we got off, it cleared up so we could actually see where we were going.

I was eager to check out all the slopes, but after Jason's near-concussion (or full-blown concussion, apparently???) last year, I was extra vigilant and made sure he was comfortable on the board before leaving him. It was also nice having Laura around since they are at about the same level and could look out for each other a bit. She seemed to be picking things up a little quicker, but confidence is a dangerous thing, and her boldness resulted in a pretty nasty wipe-out that had her holed up in the lodge for the rest of the day. Jason probably could have done a bit more but his boots were bugging him and he declared his retirement from snowboarding.

Rick and I stayed out until our legs felt like jello, which, to be honest, wasn't much longer. It is incredible how tiring it can be to slide down a mountain on a piece of fiberglass. We hit a few other runs and still didn't even come close to seeing the whole place. I am still a fairly cautious snowboarder so the blue slopes in the Pyrenees are perfect for me: long, gently curving routes that allow you to pick up just enough speed to feel like a bad ass but not enough to actually hurt yourself too badly. It was a great day.

Back in town, there was some random ice band that was playing. Can't say the music was really my thing but there was hot wine and fire logs so I was happy.

We were certainly not up for another day of snowboarding but it seemed like a waste to just go straight back to Bordeaux. We had a few hours to kill, so we got some snowshoes and took a little walk in the woods. In the spring, you can hike up to the Cirque de Gavarnie, this beautiful rock formation with waterfalls and such, but those routes were all closed for the season. We will definitely have to make a return trip. Gavarnie is great!

How many engineers does it take to build a snowman?

On the way back to the slightly warmer, significantly wetter climes of Bordeaux, we were all pretty tired but happy. So maybe it's not the traditional way to spend Valentine's Day, but I think we did all right.

Napoleon Bridge. So high!!

See you in the summer, Pyrenees!

Andorra, the Land of Waiting

Andorra: The name alone conjures visions of an enchanted land from some fantasy novel featuring wizards and dragons and creatures that are half man-half something with hooves. When you you say it, it's always in hushed tones, as if being whispered from the depths of a mystical forest. And, if you're anything like me, it might as well be a fictional place because you have no idea where it is.

It's here, and I promise it's a real country! Well, technically it's a tax-free principality, but who cares?

Jason suffers from crippling wanderlust, and is constantly on the hunt for his next fix, which is how we ended up booking a weekend of snowboarding in a country we knew literally nothing about. I didn't even know what the official language was until we got there and everything was written in this strange mash-up of all Romance languages. But with my fluency in French and Spanish (once upon a time), we knew we could figure it out.

We rented a car and dragged our buddy Rick out of bed on Friday morning so we could get an early start. It's about a four-hour drive and the last hour is straight up a mountain. Certainly not a problem for Jason after our epic adventure driving through the Alps in August, but we were a little concerned about the conditions in winter. Lucky for us, people who live in the mountains know how to deal with snow and the roads were pretty clear.

As per the usual, Jason had meticulously researched everything in advance and decided the best town for us to stay in was Pas de la Casa: Close proximity to lifts, good variety of slopes, lots of places to eat and drink, and cheap accommodations. For someone who isn't much of a life planner, he sure does a good job planning vacations.

When we arrived in town, our first task was to find parking. No easy feat as the small city roads were a bit less plowed and, more precarious still, jammed with people ambling about in their ski suits. Sidewalks? Who needs them! Moving out of the way as cars are skidding down the hill? No, thanks! We parked the car and didn't even think about moving it for the next three days.

Next step: Check in to the hotel. It was a little after 4pm (we stopped in Toulouse for lunch) but we couldn't pick up the keys until after 5. No problem. We'll have a drink and come back. A round of 2€ pints later, we went back to the office, which was now packed with other guests trying to check in. It would seem that in 2014, when we have access to things like the internet and computers, getting people checked in to a hotel would be a relatively quick and easy process.

FALSE!

Check in was a 50-minute ordeal, not only because there was a lot of unnecessary filling out of forms by hand, but because the people working at the desk didn't actually know how to do their jobs. They couldn't take our payment for the balance of the room because they didn't know how to operate the credit card machine. They didn't know which key to give us because they didn't know how to read the registry. They took countless phone calls in the middle of handling our reservation and then forgot what we were doing when they finally got back to us. Ça me fait chier but at least we had a great view from our room.

After getting settled, we grabbed some dinner, watched the opening ceremonies for the Olympic Games and ended up back at Paddy's Irish Bar (not to be confused with Paddy's Irish Pub) for drinks/pool/darts with all the other English-speaking people in town. We didn't get too cranked up, though, because we had an epic day of snowboarding in our very near future!

Bazooka-sized pepper grinder

Paddy's Irish Bar

We got up at 9 and started suiting up for our day on the slopes. Rick already had his own gear but Jason and I were renting from a place up the street. Again, this was a long and annoying process. Better than checking in to the hotel but it still took a lot more time that we anticipated. It was already 10:30 and we were wasting precious snow time! Time to get lift tickets. Holy shit, there's an endless line for this too? Couldn't you install some kiosks and get these things dispensed on the quick?

It was after 11 by the time we got to the slopes and, I'm sure you saw it coming, there was a massive line to get on the lifts. That's not even true. There was no line, just an insane mass of people clamboring all over each other, trying to get through the metro-like turnstiles to get on the lift. Who thought it was a good idea to make people on skis and snowboards to go through turnstiles?!?!?

It was pushing noon by the time we got to the top of the mountain, and we were so eager to just get a run in, that we (I?) kind of forgot that Jason didn't really know how to snowboard. We had been one other time in Virginia about two years ago and he spent most of the day falling down the mountain on his ass and nearly gave up. He had figured it out by the end but I suppose it's not really one of those "just like riding a bike" activities. Oops.

Moments before a face full of snow

He took a real hard fall on the very first run down the mountain, shattering his sunglasses and maybe even giving him a shade of a concussion. The teacher in me kicked in and I offered to stay with him on his next run and remind him how this whole thing works. We had to grab lunch in the middle of it since we forgot to eat breakfast in our haste to get on the mountain and Jason was getting hangry.

A couple more coaching runs before I left Jason to practice a bit and joined Rick on some of the tougher slopes. Suddenly the rage from waiting in long lines and Andorran inefficiency melted away. It's hard to be angry when you feel like you're ascending into heaven. The views could not have been more spectacular. I didn't bring a camera, because I don't really have one, so you'll just have to trust me. It was breathtaking. (All photo credits to Rick)

The lines started thinning out as they were able to open more lifts and we had four solid hours of uninterrupted snowboarding on longest, most beautiful runs I have ever seen. And, though the hoards of people everywhere would suggest otherwise, it wasn't even that crowded. I could carve all the way across the mountain and back without worrying about cutting someone off. GLORIOUS.

There are no lights on the slopes in Andorra so the lifts shut down at 5, which was about as long as our muscles could hold out anyway. Just like last time, Jason was really starting to get good toward the end but we were all too tired and too sore to go out again on Sunday. Now that we know what to expect, we can do things smarter next time.

We considered checking out some of the other towns in Andorra on our way out but traffic was miserable and we decided to just head back to Bordeaux. We wanted to swing through Toulouse for lunch again but the GPS took us on some crazy route up and over this mountain and the turn we were supposed to make would have had us driving through a snowbank. Technology fail. It was very pretty but no one really likes driving up and down icy mountain roads, especially when you haven't eaten. We ended up stopping in some random tiny town called Chioula ("Je suis où là?") to get some food, and even though we had just taken a 90-minute detour, it was hard to complain about the view.

Peace out, Pyrenees. See you when I can walk again.

Patience is a virtue, especially in Andorra.