You might remember me telling you of Xavi’s cabin up in the Pyrenees where eight of us spent a weekend last month. Well, this month we went back for the sole purpose of …(drum role)… snowboarding! Now, I had never even been skiing before, much less snowboarding. But Bob and Ann-Kristine start to actually emit light from their smiles when someone mentions snowboarding so I figured, “Hey, it’s worth a try”. And having Día del Constitución and la Fiesta de la Consepción Inmaculada in the same week, I have a four day weekend coming to me. There were eight of us again but some were newbies to the trek. Xavi, Bob, Petra, Ann-Kristine, and I were all returning, but making their first appearances in the small village of Arrós were Pascal, Ingi, and Eanna (all German). That brought the German count to an irritatingly high five out of eight. I don’t have anything against them personally – they’re all really great people – but when they’re together it’s much easier for them to all speak German and Xavi, Bob, and I don’t understand a word. It’s especially bad when you’re stuck in a car with three other Germans, like I was, for the four hour drive. Every once and a while they realized what they were doing and switched to either English or Spanish, but that never lasted long. I think I learned some useful German phrases that weekend. Anyway, the mountains were just as beautiful as before, but this time it was because they were all covered in snow. We went to Baqueira Beret – one of the nicest ski resorts in the Pyrenees. They say that’s where the King of Spain goes to ski, but we didn’t see him that weekend. Xavi told me a story of how, a few years back, the King was skiing and some kid crashed into him and broke his leg. When the kid realized who he had crashed into he sped off down the mountain for fear of his deportation or execution or something. The next day’s newspaper hailed him a hero for the Cataluñan separatist’s movement. A few weeks later his friends ratted him out and so he made a public apology to the King on national television. The King wasn’t really that upset. He loves to ski. He understood it was a mistake. How cool would that be? To be the one to have broken the King of Spain’s leg? That would be awesome! I would have loved to have been that guy. Imagine the stories! “Yeah, I broke the King’s leg. That’s right, I took him right out.” I wouldn’t gun for him on the slope or anything. Anyway, I spent most of the time on the slope with Xavi because we were on the same level, but I quickly got the hang of it (as much as you can in your first outing) and soon left him eating my proverbial dust. And then I’d fall down. And he’d catch up. But then I’d get up and start picking up speed and then lose him again. And then I’d fall down again. Then I’d start cursing my bum for being so tender. But then I’d get up and do it all over again. I’m still in the “This hurts so much I have no idea why I keep doing this to myself” stage, but I can’t wait until we go back!