For us socially mobile first-generation middle-class people who didn't grow up spending holidays on the slopes, the prospect of going skiing is as frightening as it is ridiculous. Sure, after 15 years in London I've had enough conversations to know that the "après rules" apply, and that the Pyrenees are "simply beautiful" at this time of year, but when faced with actually tying down a pair of skis (I found out that they do indeed clip into place), I was completely out of my depth.
But because I felt like doing a bit of social anthropology and was curious about what so many colleagues had been doing all these years, I left for Andorra for a week. It is located high in the Pyrenees, wedged between Spain and France. In Catalan terms, with just 80,000 inhabitants, it is one of the smallest countries in Europe and mainly famous for two things: ski resorts and low taxes.
I traveled there with Neilson Holidays, who turned out to be perfect for a first foray into this world as they do all the hard work for you, including organizing charter flights, transfers, hotels, ski hire and, crucially, ski lessons. Before I left, one of their reps even called me to answer all my questions. Believe me, there were many. This is what I learned:
What to pack
The first challenge came on the phone and said, "What should I wear?", I asked.
"You definitely need a good pair of salopettes," he says. Ummm... it turns out these are thick, waterproof pants with suspenders to keep snow from running through your pants during those many inevitable falls. You also need a sturdy ski jacket, thick socks, waterproof mittens and plenty of thermal underwear. And so off I went to the numerous snow shops in London - and quickly realized that this week's outfit could easily cost more than my monthly rent. The savvy shopper should instead try resale sites like DePop, Vinted and eBay. These are full of second-hand ski clothing, most of which is listed as 'worn once'. Ignoring the obvious question of why so many give up skiing after just one trip, I bought a full outfit here in pristine condition for less than £100.
The story continues
Besides the clothes and goggles (I have a very reasonable pair from Bloc Eyewear), the rest of your equipment is available to rent, and shops on site can fit you for skis, boots, poles and a helmet; which my very many fall and I beg you to wear them always.
Even away from the mountain, during a ski holiday, it turns out that activewear is the rules. I've honestly never seen such density of The North Face as on our outbound flight - I immediately stood out like the noob in the ankle-length wool coat I thought I'd need for the evening. So leave the party clothes at home, stock up on stylish fleeces and wear ski pants for breakfast.
Where to stay
I quickly learned that there are three important considerations when choosing a hotel for skiing. Number one is the proximity to the gondola (the ski lift type, not to be confused with the boats). Ski equipment is heavy! The morning walk from the hotel to the elevator was the most strenuous part of each day. If your hotel is more than five minutes away, it's worth renting a locker nearby to store your belongings and avoid passing out before you even reach the mountain.
Number two is good water pressure. A hot shower at the end of a day of repeatedly tumbling down a children's run is heaven itself. Expect pain in muscles you didn't know you had, bruises all over and cold fingers and toes. Trust me, you'll thank yourself for taking a good kettle seriously.
And finally: the food. Skiing is really hard work. Putting on your gear is hard work, getting to the mountain is hard work, staying upright and warm is hard work. All of this will leave you with a monstrous appetite, and it's imperative that your hotel can feed the beast.
I stayed at Hotel del Clos in El Tarter, which performed heroically on all these fronts. The hotel is located just 350 meters from the gondola and has its own lockers, complete with heating, so you don't have to worry about wet boots in the morning. Here too the showers were divine, with abundant heat and fantastic pressure to knock away the wounds. And because it was buffet breakfast and dinner, the food provided countless greedy portions of hearty, warming calories to keep me going.
With floor-to-ceiling wood paneling, roaring fireplaces, and heavy blankets and faux-fur pillows to sink into at night, del Clos lived up to all the cozy, classic ski lodge clichés I imagined for such a trip.
Skiing
The main act. Actually putting on skis and sliding down a mountain. I admit: I was nervous. I consider myself active and adventurous, but this is an alien sport, and it's not easy - despite what the four-year-olds whizzing by will make it seem. It is therefore crucial to find a good teacher, and after hearing the horror stories of shouting French people, I was relieved to meet my never shouting instructor Stuart - a booming ex-bar owner with a wicked sense of humor and limitless patience.
The following week, Stuart guided our small group of absolute beginners in everything from holding our poles to one aspect that proved particularly tricky: how to get off a ski lift without landing on your face. A real testament to Stuart's teachings: by the end of the week we could all confidently ski down a pretty impressive looking blue run (a slope with a gradient of about 25 percent), a feat that none of us had achieved just a few days earlier. possible when we even had trouble clamping on our skis.
While fearless toddlers seem completely at ease with skiing, learning as an adult is, as they say on the slopes, quite tough. Our group all had a big fall, had some nerves and ended up completely exhausted each day. For people who think a vacation should be relaxing, skiing is probably not for you. But if, like me, you love a challenge and aren't afraid to take a beating, it was pretty awesome to fly home after just a week with a new skill learned and a whole new landscape unlocked.
Apres ski
While I may not have been sure how well I would cope with skiing, one aspect of this holiday that I felt much more confident that I could excel at was the "après". For the uninitiated, 'after-ski' refers to the raucous partying that takes place after the ski lifts close. From champagne bars to cozy pubs and open-air DJs, even the small towns of Andorra had a lot to offer in this regard.
Here the norm is to go straight from the slopes to the party, simply swap your helmet for a hat and head to the outdoor techno rave in your long johns. As the temperature quickly drops below zero, the dance-or-die element of needing to move to keep warm means the dance floor is always buzzing. However, there is a popular culture of early bedtimes here, meaning things start around 4pm and everyone is in bed before 11pm - ready to head straight back to the mountains tomorrow.
A word of caution, however: beware of the increased effects of alcohol at high altitude. This was the one piece of advice I received most often from my scholarly ski friends prior to this trip. Thinking this said more about me than the severity of the problem, I didn't heed the warnings and on my first night, after just three wines, I found myself on stage with my ski instructor's band Livin' on a Prayer singing. You have been warned!
The verdict
In the end, I have to admit that I enjoyed this trip. In a serious case of reverse snobbery, I was completely prejudiced against the idea of a ski holiday - as were the friends who commented on my Insta stories about the trip and asked: "Who Are you?". My experience in Andorra was not pretentious at all. Here skiing is a young, fun, exciting outdoor sport that is culturally more like surfing or skateboarding than the British country club atmosphere I expected. I'm sure other resorts attracting a completely different audience, in Andorra at least, everyone is welcome on the mountain --- and I, for one, am a ski convert.
The essential ski jargon
Pizza and fries: You'll earn both if you spend hours mastering these. These are the terms used to describe the shape your skis need to make when slowing down or accelerating.
To dump: Don't be rude. This is a very heavy overnight snowfall. Skiers are constantly talking about the next dump and when it arrives everyone is happy.
Carving: No, not the kind in a Sunday roast, but a series of clean turns using the edges of skis.
Powder: Not to be confused with the white stuff more commonly discussed in London; powder here of course refers to snow.
Pow Pow: Pronounced 'paow paow', this is short for powder and refers only to the freshest, finest and fluffiest type of snow - a ski enthusiast's dream.
Getting an edge: When the metal edge of a ski digs into the snow, usually resulting in a fall. This is a key term to use when you need a professional-sounding excuse for an awkward fall.
Bomber: A skier who recklessly bombs a run at speed. These people will often yell at trembling beginners as they continue because they are in their way, moving too slowly, or because they exist in this world.
Slope classifications: Ski slopes are color coded to indicate the level of difficulty. They are ordered from the simplest to the most expert: children's room (or green), blue, red, black.
Beaten or groomed: Not as annoying as these terms sound, this refers to slopes that are smoothed at night. The pros race to the top of the first chairlift every morning to be the first to make the cleanest descent.
Decline line: The straightest, most direct route down a hill. It's ideal to keep this entire line from literally falling, if you can.
Half board for a week Hotel del Clos prices start from £699including flights from London Gatwick.
