The Luck of the Irish

Really, we were the lucky ones. Andorra played the Republic of Ireland in a sold out match on Friday and we happened to be camping right above the stadium. When we pulled up to pitch in the afternoon, just about every police officer in Andorra was surrounding the grounds. "We're just camping," we explained to the first row. "Here for camping!" to the second. "We're in a tent up there," we told them when we came back through later. "Yes, yes, camping," they all said, pointing us through on our final trip. We couldn't have been more a part of the action.
Except, of course, if we were Irish. The first green shirts were spotted in town that morning. We thought it was amazing that those guys traveled all the way here for the game. Little did we know that busloads would arrive and congregate outside the stadium for hours before the game. It was a big match for them, bigger than for Andorra. Both teams are in Group B of the UEFA Euro 2012 qualifiers - and Ireland is just a win or two away from securing their spot. Andorra, on the hand, is an underdog, as the friendly old man who runs our campsite explained with a hand up near his forehead for Ireland and a hand down near his knees for Andorra.
Beers were carried from the campsite bar over across the street, where the Irish supporters had hung up flags and a banner that read "YES WE CAN!" The game didn't start until 9:30, but the singing started around seven. When it rained for a little while, the singing got louder. Close to game time, the Andorran supporters (who we'd assumed were just having an 'early' dinner) had still not arrived in any great number. We were invited down to join Team Ireland, but would have felt a little bit like traitors. Plus, we had a paella to make.
When the rain stopped at the start of the match, this rainbow crossed the sky. Dare I say there was a pot of gold underneath. Two quick goals put the Irish up 2-0 in the first twenty minutes of the game - a fact we surmised by the roar of the crowd in the distance. The tiny stadium's stands were almost completely green. Just to give you a little perspective: The other Group B stadiums (Armenia, Slovakia, Russia, Macedonia and Ireland) hold an average of 31,000 people. Ireland's is the biggest of the bunch, with 50,411 seats. The Estadi Comunal in Andorra la Vella holds 500. You could say that enthusiasm seemed to be relative.
The campsite owner had introduced us to this police officer earlier in the night and we'd been given permission to come over and watch. At that hour, before the game had started, a specific spot was pointed out for us beneath the glow of the stadium light - presumably, so no one could see us there from below. By the time we arrived later, with the match in progress and the Andorrans struggling, no one seemed to care that we were there. Other campers were huddled around with umbrellas and the police chatted casually to each other.
Andorra's more of a winter sports country - and roller hockey, interestingly. Their national soccer team is about as good as any country's would be working with such a small population. It doesn't mean they don't like the sport. We've seen pick-up games like this one a few times and heard rowdy matches going on at recess. It just means that most Andorrans were probably not heartbroken about the 2-0 loss to the Republic of Ireland. To be honest, we were a little relieved. I doubt we would have gotten much sleep had their been a huge upset. And it would have been a very sad, long bus ride home for a lot of fans.

Gypsy Kitchens: Camping Paella

In Catalan, "paella" means "pan," and can refer to a wide variety of dishes. Here in Andorra, it seems that every home and restaurant has their own version, all of them delicious. On one of our first days in the principality, we were lucky enough to eat a little of the "gran paella popular" at the Fira del Roser, in Sant Julia de Loriadav.

There was a time in our lives when we made a lot of paella. Using a multitude of ingredients and a two-step, range and oven method, we complicated and elongated the process until it was much more difficult than it should have been. Then, on a canoe trip a few years back, a breakthrough: paella can be extremely simple. This is our recipe for camping paella, which calls for no fresh ingredients and can be made using one burner (or a campfire) and a very moderate amount of effort.

In a kitchen, there's no substitute for live clams and mussels, raw shrimp, market fish, parsley, fresh peas and all the rest. But outside, without refrigeration, those ingredients become problematic. Instead of fresh vegetables and shellfish, chicken and sausage, everything here is canned or semi-non-perishable. Rice is a given; onion, garlic and lemon are hardy enough; canned peas and peppers add plenty of flavor.

We used canned octopus, squid, shrimp claws (a real find), mussels and clams. None of these are necessary, and the only one that's suggested is the tinned clams, because their juice is so integral (if clams aren't your thing, consider buying a small container of clam juice). Any tinned, canned or jarred shellfish should work well - canned cod could also add something, even sardines in a pinch. Drain the fish, discarding packing oil but retaining any other liquid. Also drain the peas and peppers, discarding the liquid. Cut the peppers into small pieces.
Chop one large onion and brown in olive oil, peanut oil or butter. Add a few cloves of minced garlic and cook for a few moments, then add more oil and two cups of rice. Cook the rice, stirring occasionally, until the edges of the grains become translucent. Add three cups, combined, of the retained fish liquid (or clam juice) and water. Use no more than a cup of fish liquid. Also add a heavy pinch of saffron. Stir everything together and bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer. Cook the rice (uncovered) until nearly done - about fifteen or twenty minutes. Although this is rice-cooking blasphemy, make sure to stir every now and then to prevent the bottom from sticking - the added sugars from the onion can cause the mixture to burn.
When the rice is almost done, stir in the vegetables and seafood and cook just until warmed and tender. Before removing from the heat, stop stirring, turn the heat to high and toast the bottom of the rice until fragrant (about a minute and a half). This last step creates the mythical "socarrat" char at the bottom of the pan, which any highly-regarded paella is supposed to have.

A note on pans: a wide, shallow pan - like a cast iron skillet - is ideal and traditional, but a narrower, deeper pot can work well too. We actually cooked our paella in a cast iron pot and finished it in a ceramic dish, but that's because it's cold and windy here in the mountains, and we couldn't cook the rice very well in a pan.
Normally, paella is served in one big dish, which everyone eats from with forks, spoons and fingers. Squeeze lemon over the top and eat hot, relishing the fishiness and the socarrat.

Here's the recipe:

Camping Paella

Ingredients:

2 cups rice, preferably arborio or similar

5-8 tins, cans or small jars of shellfish, cephalopods or fish (with an emphasis on clams and mussels)

1 can peas

1 tin peppers

1 large onion

3 cloves garlic

1 lemon

Olive or peanut oil, or butter, or some combination of each

Pinch saffron

Process:

- Open and drain all cans, retaining any water-based fish liquid, but discarding any oil and the vegetable packing liquid.

- Slice peppers into small pieces. Cut any larger pieces of seafood into manageable chunks.

- Chop onion, finely-mince garlic, heat about 3 tbs. oil (or butter) in pan or pot.

- Sautee the onion in the oil until lightly browned, add more oil and stir in rice. Cook rice until translucent at edges, then add 3 cups, combined, water and fish-liquid. Use no more than 1 cup fish liquid.

- Add a heavy pinch of saffron and stir, then bring water to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and let cook - stirring occasionally once somewhat thickened - until rice is nearly done. Add small amounts of water if liquid disappears before rice is done.

- Stir in seafood and vegetables and let warm/cook until rice is tender. Stop stirring, turn heat to high and toast the bottom of the mixture until just fragrant, about 1 or 1 1/2 minutes.

- Remove from the heat and serve with wedges of lemon.

The sign of success - socarrat.

In Casa Cristo

Our tour guide, Robert, didn't know why this house-cum-museum in Encamp, Andorra is named "The House of Christ," either. It sure wasn't the name of the last family that lived here. Maybe - gasp - the first? All kidding aside - places like this, that offer a look into how people lived at a certain time, are usually over-stylized. Sometimes, they're flat out reproductions. But Casa Cristo is simply a family's house left exactly as it was when they emigrated to France in 1947. The yellow calendar hanging on the wall verifies this fact. On the table, below it, is a porró, a tradition Catalan wine pitcher from which wine is poured right into the mouth.
After the family left, taking their bible but leaving a book about saints, the home remained shuttered for almost 50 years. In 1995, it was turned into a museum. The building itself was built in the 19th century, which is why I was surprised that they didn't just go back in time and represent life in the 1800s inside its walls. Instead, it is just a little museum that is truthful and simple, offering a glimpse at life without the weight of historic relevance or broader cultural significance. Robert was just about to close up for Casa Cristo's midday break when we walked/ducked through the door. (This house was not designed for tall-ish people). He was very friendly, nonetheless, and invited us in for a quick walkaround, which turned into a twenty minute tour with a lot of "watch your heads." He clearly likes the place and still finds it fascinating to poke through its belongings. This was a box of "various tools" stashed up in the attic. There was also a haycutter that resembled some sort of half-stocks half-guillotine contraption and a lot of fishing net repair equipment. In the corner was one of the smallest, loveliest woodstoves I've ever seen and a family sized foot warming ring. Also present, big blocks of homemade soap and a bunch of tobacco leaves hung up to dry.
It was bigger than we'd expected from a place billed as "a typical poor Andorran home." Bare, but comfortable. The parents' room was next door to the grandmother's room, which was a little larger, closer to the stove and adorned with photos of children and hanging black dresses. "She always wore black!" Robert chuckled as if it were his own silly grandma. He showed us a secret drawer in the mistress of the house's desk and the heavy, pure silver 5 pesos coin inside. There were old linens and christening gowns that dated back a hundred years , lace-making needles and various personal effects.
It was a lot of fun to look around at all of Casa Cristo's relics: old condiments tins, flour sifters, guns and umbrellas, photographs. Rushing through like we were, it felt like we were sneaking around someone's house while they were out. We only touched the things Robert handed to us and did so with a sense of mischievousness. The one or two things that were added or changed for effect were pointed out to us. That tobacco did not look like it had been drying for 64 years. But he seemed as happy as we were about the fact that it's really just a very good dusting job. A snapshot more than a doll's house.
Here is the family's fine china, set out for all to see. Displayed in a large piece of furniture at the center of the kitchen/dining/living room, it was a point of pride; the closest thing to "decoration" in this simple, utilitarian but sweet home. Underneath, was a cupboard, which Robert opened to reveal their "real dishes." Pots and pans and plates were piled up and well-worn. Mrs. "Cristo" probably would have been horrified that we saw it. Give me an ethnographic museum served on tin instead of porcelain any day.

Andorran Romanesque Churches

At the beginning of the middle ages, as Europe began to see the first sweeps of unifying art and architecture since the Roman era, a particular style of building became all the rage. Later dubbed "Romanesque" by scholars because of the prominent use of "roman" semi-circular arches, the style coincided with a rapid expansion in Christianity and with a boom in church construction. Between the 10th and 12th centuries, nearly all the religious structures erected in Europe were Romanesque. Then, Gothic architecture became the new fad, and most of the old churches were rebuilt in the new style. Today, it's rare to find surviving examples of Romanesque churches - unless you're in Andorra, which has a staggering trove of them.
In Andorra, the buildings are more precisely "pre-" or "first-Romanesque," which means that they have a general lack of sculptural adornment and a somewhat simpler design than later instances. Also, while the arches have the characteristic shape associate with the movement, they are often limited to window and door openings, and are not seen in more ornate colonnades and ceilings. Early adoption of the architecture isn't necessarily the reason for first-Romanesque attributes, though. Partly, the remoteness and poverty of the region is the cause, as the people of the Pyrenees didn't have the means to build complex or large structures.

Santa Eulàlia's seventy-five foot tower, in Encamp, is the tallest medieval structure in the principality, and the only surviving part of the original church.
The most emblematic facet of the Romanesque style is the semi-circular arch, which replaced simple lintels and allowed for more open walls - most importantly in the bell towers, which could be built taller and with more openings than before. This bridged an important architectural gap between solid and ornamented walls, but the buildings were still generally thickly constructed and, especially in poorer areas, made of unrefined stone.

Sant Romà, situated high above the medieval hamlet of Les Bons, is almost too tiny to be much more than a nave, apse and little porch. Church porches are common in the region, perhaps to allow for some shade as the congregation leaves a service.On some of the simpler Andorran churches, a bell-gable, like Sant Miquel i Sant Joan in Encamp, stands in for a tower. The bell-gable was popular on the Iberian peninsula because of the haste with which much of the buildings were erected. Called "espadanya" in Catalan, they were often the architectural precursor to larger structures in other parts of the world, but remained relevant here and were eventually exported to the Americas and elsewhere by Catalan and Spanish immigrants and missionaries. Though there are very few openings or distinctive marks, notice how the lower windows, in the older part of the church, have the Roman arch.
Romanesque churches survived in Andorra because the region was too poor to build new chapels and too remote to be influenced by new architectural trends. Although many of the structures here have been renovated or repaired over the centuries, the original designs have remained intact and a kind of stasis has been achieved - to an Andorran, the Romanesque church is just what a church is supposed to look like. The Sant Serni de Canillo, above, was built in the 18th century, long after the rest of Europe had adopted other styles. Here, the same characteristics seen elsewhere in the country were copied and only slightly modernized - notice, for example, the familiar shape of the tower, but the finer, more precise masonry.

Nostra Senyora de Meritxell, sitting by itself high up the valley side, is the inevitable exception that still proves the rule. Built in 1994 using a 1976 design, the church (which is dedicated to the national patron saint, Mary) is about as far from traditional as can be. The architect, Ricard Bofill, managed to incorporate the Roman arch motif - here represented in open, exterior shapes - and the blunt shape of the Romanesque tower and nave, while creating something ultimately very contemporary.

My favorite of the Andorran Romanesque churches is probably the 11th century Sant Joan de Caselles. It sits at a narrow point in the Gran Valira river valley, up above the town of Canillo. It's impossible to miss on the drive from the French border down towards Andorra la Vella - we first encountered it just after entering Andorra, at dusk on a cool evening. It's a spectacular sight. Later, we camped just down the valley and walked up to see it on a few evenings. It's a peaceful spot when the traffic quiets and the only sound comes from the flowing water and the autumn wind.

The Lakes of Vall d'Incles

What's great about Andorra is that for as small as it is, there's still room to get away from it all. "It all," meaning the shopping, hotels, terribly confusing roads and traffic. You simply have to go up - up into the Pyrenees. There's something wonderful about climbing upward out of the hustle and bustle of a place into a landscape that is so vast and magnificent that you can barely comprehend it, but also somehow feels like it's entirely yours. It's like the adult equivalent of escaping to the attic. There's even that big part of you that wants to move up there, until you realize that you're really far away from the bathroom and the fridge.
We arrived in Vall D'Incles right after breakfast. Andorra is the land of valleys. It's often referred to as The Principality of the Valleys of Andorra, in fact. Vall D'Incles is said to be one of the prettiest. In the summer, its accessibility and proximity to a built up resort town fill it with walkers. But this isn't the summer - nor is it ski season, which is the main draw of greater Andorra. So, we nestled our car into a shady spot on the side of the road and walked up to see some lakes.
The initial hike was steep and the altitude made breathing a little difficult. These aren't the Alps or anything, but it's high nonetheless. A yellow helicopter zoomed back and forth overhead and we were careful not to raise our cameras up too high, as not to give a mistaken rescue wave. Also above us was an enormous eagle and a trio of buzzards. Around our feet were little purple flowers that looked exactly like crocuses, but couldn't possibly be, right? When we reached our first lake, Estany de Cabana Sorda, we found it half dried up and flanked by construction workers. The helicopter had just dropped of some materials. The scenery was so immediately breathtaking, though, that we didn't mind too much - perfectly happy to move on to explore other lakes nearby.
The landscape is drawn more like a soundwave than an electrocardiogram, with ridges that send you down, up and around often enough to put you out of view and earshot from what you've just left behind. So, as soon as we'd turned a corner away from the construction, we heard no noise at all. The same was true for the cowbells that tinkled now and then, strapped to a group of mares grazing near a stream. Even the helicopter made only a short burst into our silence. The first of the two "Salamander Lakes" was, indeed, filled with salamanders and surrounded by cracked earth that was actually wet enough to leave a footprint in. The kept happening, I felt. Something would look a certain way and then complete surprise me upon approach. Like the yellow shrubs that looked like pompoms and felt like porcupines.
I think a huge part of mountain lakes' appeal is the feeling you get trekking toward a body of water, an oases. It feels like the most logical, functional destination point in the world, but also a little bit magical. Because even when you know exactly where one is and are directing all of your physical energy pointedly toward it, a pool of water this high above sea level still feels a little bit surprising. Like you've stumbled upon it. The second Salamander lake wasn't as clear, but the light played off of the murkiness beautifully. We really couldn't have asked for a more beautiful day for our first hike in Andorra.
We soaked it all in over our lunch of herb-crusted Andorran goat cheese, right from this part of the country, Canillo. It had a very similar taste and consistency to cheddar. The thick coating of thyme, rosemary and lavender gave the texture a welcome toothsomeness, like shredded coconut - and, obviously, a flavor complexity. We've decided that cheese makes the best hiking lunch. All you need if the knife you're already carrying and a firm enough selection to hold up in your backpack. It is as simple a meal as can be, but can feel downright luxurious. It's got protein for energy, density for fullness, fat for insulation. Plus, cheese just feels right in the mountains - like shellfish on the coast.
The terrain kept changing from rock to dirt to spongy, green grass mounds. In the distance, it looked like a whole world of surfaces were out there ready to be hiked on - hills of brown corduroy and green velvet. As we spotted our final lake, Estanyo Del Querol, in the distance, we felt like we could keep going on like this for hours. But we've got about ten more days to conquer more of it. Though, sadly, not nearly close to it all. Who said Andorra is too small for a two week stay?
In this climate, the mornings are cold, the afternoons are blazing and the difference between standing in the shade and the sunlight results in a lot of de- and re-sweatering. ItUp above the treeline, we felt like we were having this direct conversation with the sun. Over the four and a half hours, it traveled with us. It shone in our faces during the descent, forcing us to look down and pay closer attention to our footing. It rewarded our hard work by creating colorful light shows in the water and made us understand the scale of it all by casting gorgeous shadows against the larger peaks. It was the sun that finally told us to head home, beating down on our Autumnal complexions.

Andorran National Crop

Andorra is hooked on tobacco, as a country and as a people. It’s the number one cash crop, and has been a staple of the country’s agriculture for the past hundred years. In the high farms, tobacco leaves dry in old wooden barns; along the main road, foreigners come to load up on cheap cartons. Smugglers and tobacco conglomerates, cigarette rollers and tax free shopping, counterfeiting and subsidies – they’re all part of the national fabric and on full display here in this tiny, mountain country.
Andorra has long had a serious aversion to taxation – especially on the goods it produces and on point of sale levies. Even before the countries on either side of its borders – France and Spain – began raising taxes on tobacco products, Andorra was the place to go for cheap electronics, perfume and alcohol. In recent years, as the price of cigarettes has gone up thirty percent in Spain and nearly a hundred percent in France, Andorra’s prices have remained fairly constant. The average price for a pack of Marlboros in the principality – €2.50 – is just two-thirds the Spanish average (€4.20) and only two-fifths the price in France (€5.8). Obviously, a lot of people come to Andorra for no reason other than to buy cigarettes – and the stores are more than willing to accommodate them. The new smoking ban in Spain and the existing one in France have only increased the number of people who cross the border for their fix - they're happy to be able to light up while they're at the bar.

All the tobacco plants have been harvested at this point in the year, and are drying in barns and sheds around the country, but a few straggly leaves remain in the dry earth - either missed or sprouted after the July crop was taken in. Along the valley, where the Gran Valira river crosses the country in a fast, direct line, there is a little flat land where some of the biggest fields lie. Because the local tobacco is now more expensive than the imported varieties from Virginia and Asia, the farming itself is kept alive largely through subsidies. Recently, some of the locally produced leaf has even been burned as waste, it's taste and quality deemed too rough for inclusion in the cigarettes made in the country.
Still, even before the recent price chasm between Andorra and the rest of Europe, farmers were growing tobacco. It’s not an easy place to grow anything – less than two percent of the country is arable – but the farmers needed a crop that they could sell, and there was a demand for untaxed tobacco as far back as the 1920’s and 30’s. Although neighboring countries weren’t appreciative, the Andorran government encouraged its poor farmers to cultivate the crop and quite a few cigar and cigarette makers set up shop in the country. At first, the companies were local; eventually large conglomerates began importing tobacco into the country to be processed and refined.
The Museu del Tabac, in Sant Julià de Lòria, is a private museum, operated by the Reig company in an old cigarette and cigar factory. We learned that it was privately operated only after the tour, when we asked. Not that it wasn’t a great museum – it was – but it glorified the industry a little more than we expected it to.
The Reig family operated one of the first tobacco companies in Andorra, opening the drying and rolling business in 1880. Although they produced some products under their own trademark, in the 1920's and 1930's Reig became prosperous by copying international brands and selling knockoff cigars and rolling tobacco at a lower price. This was common practice in the principality, apparently.
It's a fascinating museum, with a great tour system. A series of lights and voices leads the visitor through the exhibitions, highlighting one corner or another, spotlighting different objects or displays. It was engrossing, even if the voice acting was a little over-dramatic. Certainly one of the better presented collections we've seen on the trip, the Museum's message only began to seem strange at the end. A final room showed a collection of videos and a slick-voiced actor went over a few salient points: that there is some speculation that tobacco "might" be linked to disease, that it is now "open season on smokers," that French and Spanish protectionism is the cause of the enduring smuggling, and that the limits on tobacco exportation should be ignored.

In fact, tobacco smuggling is still widely practiced, and not only by individuals who try to sneak out a few more cartons than they're allowed. As recently as the nineties, billions of cigarettes were imported into the country from foreign producers, with very low import duty, to feed the local bootlegging industry. A few British companies were even investigated for - allegedly - exporting cigarettes to Andorra for the sole purpose of sneaking them back into Britain, thus bypassing the high levies imposed there. Of course, the Andorrans consider the smuggling a point of pride. Imagery of hardened mountain men with illicit backpacks, trekking by moonlight over the high passes, is part of the national folklore.
In one sense, Andorra has a right to feel proud of the customs bypassing. A small country, hemmed in on both sides by larger neighbors, with no airport or rail system, Andorra has almost no ability to set its own prices on goods produced there. Spain initially blocked EU membership for the little nation, and it is still denied Schengen status on account of its low taxes. With the ability to maintain a strong industry but limited options for taking advantage of that strength, Andorra feels that its being bullied. People here are proud of their status as a "smoker's destination," with bars and restaurants full of smoke and stores full of tobacco. It's a strange thing to hold onto, but, in a way, its also one of the most visible and emphatic displays of independence that we've come across.

Going out In Andorra La Vella

Andorra's capital and largest city, Andorra la Vella is a cluttered nest of tax-free shopping emporiums and bulk-tobacco stores. The old town isn't all that impressive, the thump of clothing-store music fills the air, the steep valley sides prompt claustrophobia. Sure, people visit. They might even spend the night. But they probably won't stay for long.

And that's why going out in Andorra la Vella is so much fun. Outside the main tourist center, away from the bright lights and fistfulls of shopping bags, there are enough interesting, local bars to make anyone forget about the main drag.
Crossing from France into Andorra, the culture changes dramatically. The border signals a tipping point between Gallic and Iberian; the shift is reflected in the look of the people, in the food, in the language, in the hour that people eat. In Andorra, tapas are often just called snacks. Food is taken late, but bars are busy early. The French separation between food and barstools is gone, replaced by a casual relationship between the two which extends from the bakery to the serious watering hole. Food is everywhere, liquor is everywhere.
Where the electronics stores end, the small canteens begin - Andorra la Vella's two best stretches for bar hopping are at both ends of the center. Avinguda del Doctor Mitjavila, to the east, has a number of relaxed local spots - our two favorites are Snack Bar Diva, pictured above, and BO, a small gourmet store with a few tables. At BO, we ate delicate anchovies and cured pernil with wine. The owner poured everyone free glasses of cava and gave us a pair of delicious oysters before we left. At Diva, the same regulars seem to occupy their spaces along the bar all day, smoking constantly and eating bocadillos for sustenance.
On the other side of the valley town, a loop of low-key bars is created by Carrer de la Ciutat de Valls and Avinguda del Princep Benlloch. Few of the establishments could be described as simply as "bar" - most of them serve food and some even have rooms to let. Each has its cadre of patrons, most of whom eat a little and talk a lot. Children sit sleeping next to their parents, heads down on the table. Something small is served with each drink: hazlenuts at one place; croquetas at another; tiny, hard olives at a third. Picking a place to drink on this side of town is like window shopping; just stroll along until the atmosphere seems right.
Andorra la Vella has a way of feeling both frenetic and sleepy. It's been slightly sleazy for a long time, fueled by a sense that the land is hidden away from the strict eyes of Europe. Tourists have always come looking for theft-level bargains, and they've never stayed too long. It's why life on the outskirts feels so undisturbed, and why wandering into a tavern off the primary strip can still prompt more curiosity than rolled eyes.

These tabernas were the perfect place to land, amongst the colors and voices, and they have us excited about the next stretch of our journey. Cresting the Pyrenees, tasting new flavors, sipping new types of wine, losing track of the rapid language, it seems that the whole of the Iberian peninsula is spread out below us. It's hard not to take in too much of it at once.

A Warm Rice-y Welcome

As is our microstate arrival custom, we went to the town center and took an inventory of all the posted events. Comedy show on Tuesday, Ferrari fest next week, "Fira del Roser" in Sant Julia de Loria this weekend! The exclamation point comes from the fact that right there under the dates and times were the words "GRAN PAELLA POPULAR," which we translated to mean "FAMOUS BIG PAELLA." This isn't usually the main event of the Fair of the Rosary, celebrated the first weekend of each year. Normally, the local cattle are brought down from the mountains and showcased at the fair. However, a statement issued by the town regretfully explained that they had spoken to the farmers and the cows simply couldn't make it down for the event this year.
Other than the livestock exhibition, the fair also features 30 venders selling local beer, honey, preserves, clothing, jewelry and the like. The crowd was thin and the booths seemed sad when we first arrived, early in the day. Some sort of scavenger hunt filled the sidewalks outside with sprinting teenagers and a chocolate-covered-churro stand made the surrounds smell like 'fair' - but the tent remained pretty empty. They say that the whole parish usually shows up, which is around 1,500 people in Sant Julia de Loria. I'd say the bovine stars of the show were sorely missed.
Even still, at around 1:30 (half an hour before the promoted paella time), the staff got to stirring. A corner of the tent was sectioned off by a picket fence and potted flowers. A picnic table was topped with bread, plates, forks, water and(of course) red wine in plastic cups and the paellas were a'cooking. The set-up made it feel like a backyard barbecue and, soon enough, the entire town had flooded in and lined up. Nothing brings a community together like free food. They waited and gabbed as a local news camera man shot footage and our stomach gurgled from the almost torturous aroma. Our second day on the Iberian peninsula, we're not used to eating lunch at 2pm just yet.
You can say the cows made a special appearance after all, along with some chickens and pigs. The tri-meat paella with mushroom and pepper had a ton of flavor and tasted as fresh and homemade as can be. Heaped, steaming hot, onto our plates by a bubbly woman, the paella made me feel like I was at a family gathering of some second or third cousins I never knew I had, but was happy to find out I was related to. "Good rice, right?" one of the organizers asked us with a smile that suggested the question was rhetorical. We nodded and chewed and swallowed our warm welcome to Andorra. "Have more!" he said as he walked away. If we could have fit more in our bellies, we would have.
Paella is actually the Catalan word for "pan" and, around these parts, the term is used to describe any rice dish that's cooked up in a shallow pan over fire, like this. Any expert would take one look at this picture and say that, for such an enormous quantity, the cooks did a fine job - because right there, stuck to the bottom of the pan, is some sacorrat. When we left, they had begun doling out more helpings from the second pan. Inside, outside, all down the sidewalk and in the playground next door, people were sitting, squatting and standing with their plates on the sunny Saturday afternoon - chewing and talking and taking a break only to take a sip of red wine from a plastic cup.