Skiing, Skolling and Splitting Skulls in Andorra

It was the heat that confused me at first.

Maybe not the kind of heat that is avoided on an Australian summers day but rather a feeling of actually defrosting when standing in the sun. For a brief moment I seriously considered checking with the airline that had dumped me here, "Am I in the right place?" This is supposed to be a skiing holiday after all!

A good time that somehow found me lying in the A&E ward of a hospital in Andorra's capital later that night.

I had landed in  Barcelona, Spain, after leaving on a cold blustery morning in London. I was on my way to Andorra, a tiny country consisting entirely of a bite-shaped chunk of the Pyranees between Spain's northern Catalonia region and Southern France. Andorra is said to have some of the most dramatic scenery and best skiing of the Pyranees and until as recently as 1993 was ruled as a principality by two 'Princes'; that is, the Spanish Bishop of La Seud'Urgell and the French President himself.

Until as recently as two weeks ago... I had never even heard of the place!

I was to catch a bus for four hours which was to take me into Andorra and hopefully to somewhere with a hint of snow (that pre-booked ski hire might be a touch embarrassing to pick up otherwise). I was equally hopeful of meeting Nathan and Phil (my London Aussie flatmates) at the other end of the Bus journey as they had spent the previous week navigating (and sleeping in) a hire car through the South of France.

Fortunately it was a touch chilly in the mountains and upon arriving at Arinsal (our 'resort' town in Andorra) I was able to find the lads, who had managed to check-in to our apartment hours before and had also managed to make the apartment smell like someone who had been sleeping in a car and not showering for four days. Despite this I then made it my immediate business to start the business of having a good time.

A good time that somehow found me lying in the A&E ward of a hospital in Andorra's capital later that night.

But let's not go into details. You fill in the blanks because I am still trying to!

Found Bar --> Cheap Drinks --> Met People --> More Drinks --> Bar Closed --> Walk Home -->Rowdy Nathan Jumps Ben --> Split Skull --> Out Cold --> Lots of Blood --> Ambulance --> Wake Up --> Sore Head --> Doctor Insists on Shaving a Bald Patch --> 3 Stitches, Tetanus jab, not bad --> Left Hospital --> Trying to Hitch back --> Car Pulls Over --> Looks like a Police Car! --> No English "Get In!" - "...going the wrong way...." I say. --> Police radio crackles... "(random spanish...) Senor Benjamin Amos (...more random Spanish)" --> Oh Sh*! --> Police: "Hospital... You Pay!" --> Right !! --> Back to hospital --> Pay A&E Bill --> Taxi --> Sleep...........................................................

We actually went skiing the next morning.

My head hurt.

And so on for the rest of the week. Each day saw us slapping ourselves through the fog of hangover. Catching the steep and spectacular telecabine up the mountain to the slopes (pistes), wrestling into our ski gear and those awkward spaceman boots, clipping in and (gracefully!) sliding down a mountain.

Our resort in Arinsal allowed us about 15 runs of varying difficulty which could then be linked by gondola to the neighbouring resort of Pal. Phil happened to get lost in Pal one afternoon and had no idea that the gondola link closed and there was no way to get back to Arinsal on ski's. He quite ashamedly struggled through our apartment door hours later, still booted and wrestling ski's after catching 2 wrong buses and finally the right one to get home.

The skiing was good though and although we were right at the end of the season, the morning runs were icy and firm but wide and well groomed, the afternoon on the other hand became a struggle against the slush and be battled our way through piles of cold, wet sticky snow...needless to say the morning became the ideal time to hit the slopes which left the afternoons free for other more inebriating activities, including Foos ball games and a rather disappointing round of poker with some random bar staff at the local pub.

You see, Andorra is a Tax Free country so alchohol and the like were decidedly cheap and oh so very tasty!

At one stage I was having a completelycivilised conversation with an Australian girl who was working in Andorra at the time and I turned around to the window and spied Nathan and Phil standing in the middle of Arinsal's main street pulling, what looked like overweight plastic kangaroos, over their heads. I took this as a sign that I had best get outside with my camera at the ready, and was saddened by the realisation that they were indeed wearing giant, plastic, overweight kangaroo suits. A bemused english guy, who was in the process of packing the suits into his truck when approached by the two aussies, was standing by laughing as they proceeded to kamikazee, sumo, WWF, Kangaroo tail-whip, body slam each other down the street. Lets just say that this is an image not soon forgotten.

There are of course many more stories to tell but not enough space to tell them all, so check out the photos on BennysTravels (http://groups.msn.com/bennystravels) and you can get a fair idea of the frivolities. (apologies for the blood... I'm a stick bugger I know!)

So what's next? I'm back at work today and trying to work on a budget that will see me running away from Bulls for a weekend in Pampalona in July. Then I will return to Edinburgh for a few weeks in August for The International Film Festival. Who knows what other plans might come up in the meantime.

For now... have fun and keep in touch.