Publication: Evening Herald Date: 2008-12-19 Author: Margaret Carragher
Forget off-piste, for the average punter there is still a lot of fun to be had on the smaller slopes.
In the business of skiing, as in much of life, there comes a time when one must accept ones limitations. And having accepted that you'll never hurl yourself off-pistefrom the top of a mountain, or dive-bomb down sheer mountain cliffs, there's something wonderfully liberating about just embracing your inner wuss and getting back to basics.
In the Andorran ski resort of Arinsal they've raised the basics to an art form - which is why, as ski virgins back at the dawn of the new millennium, we chose to go there in the first place. Now, eight years and many hairy ski-related experiences later, we were back to where it all started.
Perched high in the Pyrenees between France and Spain, the pint sized principality of Andorra is accessed by Directski via Barcelona/ Girona airport and onwards by coach along the sort of roads you don't generally see outside of car chase movies. Red-eye flight times from Dublin ensure the mountain journey is sunlit throughout and there's plenty of time to sort out the essential's of ski and boot hire on arrival, the better to hit the slopes fitted, kitted and raring to go first thing the next morning.
Our hotel, the Princesa Parc, was little more than a building site when last we'd been there. Completed in late 2000, it now sets the standard in terms of service and facilities in the resort. And having spent so much of our maiden trip just travelling to and from the slopes, what a pleasure it was to be in the thick of things, with the cable car virtually on our doorstep.
But the holy trinity of location was just one of this hotel's many attributes. With complimentary beverages to greet us on arrival, and staff falling over themselves to be friendly, we were seduced from the start.
After breakfast next morning (a gargantuan hot and cold buffet with chilled bubbly for wussies seeking depth charges of Dutch courage with their fruit juice) it was off to the cable car.
No pushing, no shoving, no long snaking queues, no armies of dive bombing little tykes: this was off-peak skiing at its best. And at a fraction of what it had cost us first time round. Thanks to the internet and online travel companies such as Directski, skiing has become increasingly affordable.
Having made it to first base, we started as we meant to continue - on the nursery runs. And oh, the joy of just whizzing down those little slopes without being made to feel we had to do better.
This is what makes the Andorran ski school so good: its instructors never lose sight of the fact that skiing should be fun. As indeed, should après-ski. And with 'happy hours' ticking away in every pub in the place, and video footage of one's on-piste triumphs and disasters playing on a loop for diversion, it can be tempting to skip the ski and move straight to après.
Mid-week we went on the bus to the tax-free haven of Andorra la Vella for a spot of cut-price retail therapy and a chill-out in its legendary spa.
The largest of its kind in Europe, the Caldea health spa uses water from a thermal source first discovered in Roman times. Two thousand years on we had a ball. Back then to the hotel's bar and its resident pianist, Ian West, a guy who could give Jools, Joel or even Elton a run for their money. Having played all over the world, he picked this place to hang his hat. Says a lot.
Back to "What the Papers Say"
