Freedom. A riot in me.
How to live with no fire. Lost in Vall d’Aran. A treasure. A town guarded by mountains where all its restaurants are gold, its people gems and the slopes eternal. I feel it.
We stop to eat at Rufus. We end up laughing. To good. We meet for drinks at La Luna. Beautiful people. Drinks in height. Alcohol runs smoothly. Cigarettes burn slowly. Warmth. Last one at El Divino. Must check. Tons of friends. Good ones. Night is young, it’s us who get older. We head back to rest. We stay up talking though til late. Orujos de hierbas. Ice baby.
Late wake up calls. Worthy ones. Free rides. Sore legs. Adrenaline burns. Photographs. Ski-lift-talks. The feeling of knowing this is what life’s made of. Sunny peaks. Wet necks. Clouds bringing us back to earth. Thoughtless.
Wood burns and there’s a fire. Bread, tomato, jamón at home with a movie. Or pintxos at Urtau. Apreski sensuality. Small talks. Staring each other. Feeling each other. Maybe a beer. A siesta.
A ritual that makes Christmas worth living. One of Spain’s greatest escapes. Not a visit. A holiday living dream. If you haven’t, you must. If you haven’t got a place to stay, try Chalet Bassibe.