Thank you Llo, French innkeeper who’s name I never asked, restaurant owner who seemed to be interested in my life, and taxi driver who yells at slow drivers for adding just a bit of spice to the calking of my life structure.
After living in the bustling lifestyle of Barcelona for a few months, my roommate and I were seeking a bit of weekend solace and solitude. Llo, France, a city of little more than 100 people situated a few miles from the French-Spanish border seemed like what we were looking for. Along with the pleasantries of the small family-run Inn in which we stayed, the town also served as home to some locally renowned natural hot springs.
Upon first glance, this trip may not seem like much of an adventure per say, but it surely became one shortly after we boarded the train for the border. Upon our long, laborious journey we discussed that this adventure would be something we’d always remember, something that we’d sit down and tell our grandchildren about. Indeed it was. We also agreed that it was best that it was just the two of us. Walking through the frigid mountain air through the duration of the night was arduous enough absent of the complaining of third parties. It’s difficult to get to distraught when you’re the captain of your own ship. With this in mind, my roommate and I were set to sail and hoping that we’d find some sort of port to pull into somewhere among the small, sleepy villages of the French rural countryside. Although we never found such a said landing, our one night of misery shall provide laughs and storytelling material for the duration of my life.
Wednesday, after class we boarded the last train to Puigcerdà, a small Spanish/French border town. This was not our final destination however and arriving at 10pm, we had a decision to make. After attempting to check into a 2 star hotel for the night on the other side of the border in Bourg-Madame, France and being shooed away by an eerie stray dog, we decided to ditch the idea of sleeping at the train station and just hoof it to the small town of Llo, approximately 10 kilometers and a little over 6 miles away. After grabbing a baby blanket off of the top of a dumpster “just in case”, we began our journey with broken pieces of concrete in hand for protectionary purposes, as we were still concerned about the stray dog that had followed us for about a mile. Away from any source of light pollution we could see every star in the night sky. With only the lights of the stars and moon to guide us, we took a moment to pause and admire the pure jaw-dropping beauty of the night sky. Reaching the half-way point, we decided to pull over and indulge in our delicious chicken & mayo gas station sandwiches, chips and a few saltine crackers in a roofed bus stop. There was a certain amount of talk about spending the night here, out of the wind, but our testosterone and sense of adventure took the wheel and led us onward.
After a few more hours and a few pit stops to throw on more layers and lay in the middle of the highway to look at stars hoping to be able to make a wish, we had arrived in Llo. At 2am, it was obvious that everyone in the town was asleep, including the inn-keeper to our Bed and Breakfast. We realized that this complication could have and most likely would occur so this did not come as such a surprise to us. We trekked around and found a bulldozed house lot featuring a small cave. Keeping in mind that there was snow on the ground in places and the temperature was most likely in the teens or twenties we laid down the dumpster blanket and threw on literally every piece of clothing we brought (save the speedo, which I used as a pillow). My personal outfit featured 3 layers of cotton long sleeve shirts, one long sleeve, a fleece top, beanie, scarf, sweatpants, two pairs of athletic shorts and 2 tee-shirts wrapped around my calfs and ankles. My partner’s attire was equally as pathetic. And pathetic we were, literally freezing ,with nothing to do to make ourselves warmer or remedy the situation. Just the week before we had stayed in the Four Seasons Hotel in Dublin to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day serving as a stark contrast to our current living conditions. Class to trash could describe our transformation quite well. Honestly, I have never been in a situation so miserable. I can’t remember a situation I’ve been in that I couldn’t do something to remedy my situation. If I’m cold, I put on another layer of clothing typically, but both of us were fresh out and still chilled to the bone. Upon break of daylight, I scarfed down a Snickers bar and the remaining saltines for breakfast and we dashed to check into our room.
Immediately after arriving at Hotel L’Atalya we were not only enthralled with the beautiful stone cottage covered with meandering ivy vines, but also the fact that it was warm inside. Upon opening the front door I realized we were entering someone’s house and felt awkward walking around trying to find the owner. Instead, we sat down in the foyer and fell asleep sitting up as our bones thawed from the great freeze. Eventually, we woke up to a startled innkeeper who was confused as to why two tall white boys were sleeping in chairs in her entry hallway. She spoke French, no Spanish and little to no English, but we were able to convey the fact that we were the ones who made the online reservation (according to the website, the only one for the next three months). After a much-needed nap on a bed and under covers we had realized the simpler pleasures of life: a place to sleep and a roof over our heads. Following our quick bit of shut-eye we headed over to the main attraction of Llo, the hot springs and mineral baths, Los Baines de Llo. It was a beautiful, sunny day, much warmer than the night before and we spent upwards of 3 hours lounging among the different pools. After having dreamed about such a thing the whole night before, we figured we might as well make the most out of our spa time. After this, we intended to return home to drop off wet clothes and towels and proceed to hike up a local mountain, but instead our bodies caught up with us and we fell back to sleep until we awoke hungry for dinner.
In the last 24 hours our diet had only included 1 gas station pre-packaged sandwich, a pack of saltines, a snickers bar, a bag of chips and a roll of cookies. We wandered down into the slightly larger town of Saillagouse, France for a bite to eat. One restaurant was open, but the meal I had was one of the best I’d had in Europe. I don’t know if it was simply the lack of food that we had had in the previous day or not, but it surely was delicious. A three course meal of squid salad, a tender sirloin steak, and an amazing home made chocolate-coffee mousse sufficiently filled our stomachs. The owner, who spoke English, actually showed an interest in us and we had some brief conversations about where we were from and what we were doing in his small town, something that would never occur in our current place of residence in Barcelona.
The following morning after a traditional French country breakfast of hard-boiled eggs and walnuts, we took a taxi back to Bourge-Madame, walked back into Puigcerdà and took a train back to Barcelona. My roommate mentioned on the train, “You know we really didn’t do much”, with a chuckle. Indeed, it may seem that way, but we both have stories and experiences that we will hold dearly for the rest of our lives. Visiting such a simple place and interacting with such simple people made me realize the stark simplicity of life itself. You’re born, you live your life, you find love (or not) and then you die. However, it’s the little things – the experiences you have, the stupid things that you do that you probably shouldn’t, the people you meet and will never talk to again, the places you go that you will never return to – that provide the calking and paste for such a simple structure as life. So thank you Llo, French innkeeper who’s name I never asked, restaurant owner who seemed to be interested in my life, and taxi driver who yells at slow drivers for adding just a bit of spice to the calking of my life structure.
