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Mixture of fun and sun in the snowPetrol or the more aptly named Crude oil, is best described as a volatile flammable mixture of hydrocarbons. An early scene in the film Zoolander shows us if not for common sense just how dangerous this 'necessity' is. Petrol stations litter baron land. The very personification of a ghost town is a hollowed out BP station with rusted bowsers and empty stalls. Petrol stations are hardly what one travels the world for and it is remarkably odd that this writer is penning one of her greatest travel experiences in reference to petrol stations. The Pyrenees is a chain of mountains between France and Spain that engulf the rather charming country of Andorra . Andorra is a political anomaly that is entirely tax free and at the base of this series of mountains are many chains of petrol stations and car dealerships. This volatile, flammable mixture of man and nature is strangely intoxicating, as my amazement went from beautiful, snow capped mountains stretching higher than I'd seen before to an abundance of 'car stuff' which I'm confronted with all day, every day, Hyundai. Whilst many of the eastern wonderlands such as Prague, Budapest and the like have been over run by British stag nights largely due to their cheap alcohol and cigarettes, Andorra has remained relatively peaceful inviting adventurous tourists who find that picking up a cheap carton of fags and an oversized bottle of voddy on the way home is a bonus not a bullet point on the itinerary. Andorra is not blessed with an extensive public transport system and do rely heavily on car transport. Andorra La Vella is the capital and English speaking locals are a luxury therefore a basic knowledge of Spanish, French or the preferred Catalan is not only an advantage but an obligation if you are planning on purchasing food, hailing a cab or staying the night in one of its many hotels. Andorra La Vella is nice as far as mountain towns go but just as Michael Moore appreciates his best documentary Oscar it is the best picture that he yearns for as the slopes are for us. Andorra is famous for its skiing, it's winter sport catalogue, even put its doogs up to Whistler, Canada in a bid to host the 2010 Winter Olympic Games, the bid failed but the tomatoes were definitely left in the Greek salad. Soldeu is the most popular of the Andorran ski resorts and command of English is much higher, which is largely because the majority of people working and living there hold a passport from a member of the Commonwealth. Soldeu offers a volatile flammable mixture of snow and sun and one is reminded that just because it is winter pack your sunnies to avoid missing a day of your weekly lift pass cooped up indoors with sunburnt eyelids. It is also wise to venture to your local Blacks before leaving home and stocking up with jacket, pants, gloves, beanie and scarf as jeans aren't waterproof and a duffle coat is very impractical on the slopes. Rest assured if you are silly enough to arrive at the foot of a mountain with no gear you're bound to get a good deal if you lay your naivety and arrogance on the counter and let the seasoned competitors laugh at you whilst giving you a pity discount. Like all good ski resorts accommodation is in abundance however it is wise to book before you arrive, even the perennial, fly by the seat of your pants backpacker should not be arrogant enough to arrive at a ski resort with a shoestring guidebook, only the clothes on his or her back, no accommodation and a dwindling bank account. Rest assured, after a day attached to fibreglass with two rather flimsy poles to guide you going downhill with no idea how to stop, there is a wonderful chemist at the bottom of the mountain with ibuprofen by the bus load and when they kick in be sure to head across the road to the T-bar for some crazy cocktails that'll ease those weary muscles.
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