Sorry about the Length

I believe we left off while I was still in Paris, enjoying my time at
the hostel with a group of people, mainly Americans with a few Native
English speaking foreigners.

Well I was in Paris until Valentines day. No real reason for that, but
I did find out that the only people that really care about Valentines
day in Paris, are the romantic love struck tourists. Walking around
Paris you wouldn't even be able to tell that there was such a holiday.

Anyway, now to the story part of todays update.

The day I needed to leave Paris I found myself being convinced by an
Irish mate, Derry, that I met there convincing me to wait anothoer day
so I could go south with him and stay at his buddies place, I agreed
to this seeing no harm in it. The next evening I found myself in the
same place with Derry telling me that he couldn't make it down that
night but would meet me there the next day, I had no broblems with
that and got on the train that evening, and woke up in Toulouse the
next morning.

After waiting in and around the Toulousian train station for about 12
hours I saw no sign of Derry. I also knew that Toulouse had
absolutlely no Youth Hostels to stay at. I was getting ready to hop on
another night train/bus to I don't know where, just to provide me with
a place to sleep, when I saw a fellow traveler, wearing a backpack
about the size of mine. I got talking to him, and just two phone calls
later, he was inviting me to stay with his friends in their flat. I
thought this was absolutly amazing, a complete stranger, just inviting
me, purely because I seem good enough. This strangers name was
Olivier, after a few minutes into our meeting he started explaining to
me his philosophy that when someone is truely in need there will
always be someone there to help that person out. I now believe in this
too.

I ended up meeting Oliviers French friends, all of them were more then
nice to me, even though not too many of them spoke too much English.
At times I actually felt bad, since they were all trying so hard to
accomodate me by attempting speaking to me in their broken English. It
was then that I really wish I could have spoken French, or at least
enough to attempt to communicate with them.

Over the next 4 days I got to know Celine, Manu, and Olivier all
better, they had various get togethers at their flat, and each and
every guest they had over, made some sort of an attempt to get to know
"The American." Many of them, however, after spending some time
"chatting" with be refused to accept that I was American. For some
reason they were stuck on the fact that I didn't watch TV, I don't
like McD's and I am surprisingly fit. I just laughed it off.

But the time eventually came where I had to leave, I wasn't too sure
how, but I knew I wanted to get to Andorra. (For those of you who
don't know Andorra is a small moutain country that has alot of cheap
items for sale, due to it's tax free status.) That Sunday I printed
off directions to Andorra and started to hike. My intent was to make
it to the main highway and then hitch a lift the rest of the way, and
truely it was almost that easy. It ended up I was a good few
kilometers from the high-way and unknowingly had to hike it all with
my pack and such. Which wasn't so bad, but got even worse when the
thunderstorm rolled in on top of me and dropped some of the biggest
rain drops I've ever seen. But that passes after only half soaking me.
Once I made it to the actually highway, (3 highway looking roads
later,) I came upon a paege booth, (toll booth.) When I saw this in
the distance it did occur to me that hitchhiking in France is illegal
on the highways, but I was just hoping I'd be able to walk through
without any trouble. When I got a bit closer I noticed some police
persons and I decided to just walk through, pulling the ostrich trick
and hoping that if I don't see them they won't mind me. Right when I
thought I had made it I hear a deep Frence voice behind me. I turn
around and the policeman smiles and says some other words, within no
time I started at my "I don't speak French, do you speak English?"
French phrases. None of the three police people did but thy did do
alot of repeating of single words and pointing. After a little bit I
caught on that they wanted me to stand there and wait for a ride, I
had no problem with this since all cars going through that point had
to slow down for the toll road.

In a matter of minutes I was in a little beat up car that I don't
think had 4th gear or a front plate for the stereo. It was very
interesting, the man driving spoke very little English, but I did get
out of him that he could take me within 50-90 kms of Andorra. I
thought this was great, that would be about an hour car ride more
after he let me out. Well I got to see a good portion of Southern
France in this car, it really is beautiful, but for all of you back
home that havn't seen it, it is compareable to some of the
high-deserts that I've seen in Oregon and California. When this man
let me out of the car he pointed me down the road that would take me
the rest of the way to Andorra. I thanked him (alot) and headed on my
way. To my dismay, within 15 mins of hiking I came across a sign
telling me it was 179 km's to Andorra. I sucked it up, not much
closer, but the man was just trying to help.

He let me out at just about 6pm, I wasn't too worried, I just knew I
needed to get a ride within the next hour before it would become too
dark to hitch, and I'd either have to sit at a on-ramp or pitch camp
in some old abbandoned building. Right when I was thinking of this I
look up to see that a car, unknowinging to myself, had pulled to the
side of the road. I ran up to it and found myself headin up into the
mountains with a smoking, French, angel, Miriham. As we traveled up
into the massive mountain she learned I didn't have a place to stay
that night. Two cell phone calls later she was telling me that her
friend was alright with me staying, if she thoguht I was a decent guy.
I quickly started talking about my baby brother Ezra, and the rest of
my family.

That evening I found myself in an absolutly amazing mountain village,
much like one you'd see in a movie. This is where I met Julian, a very
interesting French man, who has done a bit of traveling himself. His
job has something to do with trees. I'm not sure what. He made up a
dinner or rice and veggies, nothing to fancy but at that point I think
I would have eaten dog food, and that fact that this was real food,
made it all the better. We finished off the night sitting around the
small fire and drinking wine, before I finally fell asleep for some
much needed rest.

The next mornind was absolutly amazing, I woke up looking out a window
to an amazing snow covered mountain, at this point I hadn't seen much
of moutains in the last month or so so this made it all the prettier.
After a humble breakfast I had to say good-bye to Miriham. Julian
drove me a bit more towards Andorra, and gave me some tips for once I
actually made it in there. Once he let me out I got to the first city
inside Andorra with little or no trouble, using a number of different
rides from different French people, who said hitching in France was
difficult? Once I made it too the first Andorrian town I had to make a
bit of a march over a mountain that is pretty much the barrier
inbetween France and Andorra. The trek was long and no one was picking
up strangers at that time of day, although the view was the best I've
seen in a very long time, it quickly got old as I hiked up the 9%
incline for an hour or so. But to my luck I was once again picked up.
This fellow drove me into the heart of Andorra, and set me off.

Andorra has a population of about 90,000 people, and is only a few
hundred acres. It seems like all the larger in habbited areas
consisted almost entirely of ski resorts, hotels, and duty-free shops.
The entire country is a friggin giant shopping center. You walk into
almost any store and they have a small castle that has been built out
of cartons of cigerettes, which range from 12 Euros, to at most 20.
More then likely the cheapest place in the EU where you can buy the
cancer sticks.

After no more then an hour in the glorious shopping mall known as the
Principality of Andorra, I headed on my way, I couldn't find any
listed Hostels online and I wasn't even about to look for them. I had
no desire to stay there. So once again I head out on my way, only with
a sign that said "Espanya" the local word for Spain. A good bit of
time passes before I was picked up, and the lady could only take me to
the first road inside the Spanish boarder, I had no problems with
this, it was now just a matter to find a place to stay. My main
destination at this point was Barcelona, so I just followed the signs
in hopes that I could either find some place to stay, or I'd have
another angel pick me up, and take me where ever they might. I ended
up walking for an hour, with various people honking at me before I
found a real campsite. It was 9 Euros a night, but it had hot showers,
and I was relatively sure no wild animals would be interrupting my
sleep, so I took it.

The campground, "Camping Gran Sol," was really rather eerie. It was
about half full of camper trailers but I saw maybe three other people
the entire time I was there. I pitched tent, (I was the only tent
camper there actaully,) took a much needed shower and had dinner that
consisted of Andorian sandwich meat and a roll. Once again it tasted
all the better after a day of hitchhiking. I went to bed thinking that
the temperature would be much better then Salisbury, since when I
walked into camp it was still above 5 degrees C.

I woke up with a thin layer of froast over everything I owned. It was
even on my sleeping bag. I gathered myself, and then had to wait about
2 hours for the tent to thaw out, then I got to hand dry it. Packing
up time lasted from 8 until 11. But I was just glad I had the tent at
that point, the night before the sky was clear enough that I was
contemplating sleeping without a tent. At 11 I set out to catch a bus,
but to my dismay, the buses to Barcelona number only at about 3 per
day and I had jusr missed the last one for another 3 or 4 hours. (I
actually watched it drive by while I waited for my tent to dry off.)
So once again I pulled out my thumb and started the trek. It was a
good temperature out, and I had to wear a t-shirt so I wouldn't over
heat while I was hiking, which was rather mind blowing, when I walked
by farm workers bundled up like it was 2 degrees outside. I hiked alot
that day, not alot of pick-ups and at one point I found I had gone 3
kms the wrong direction, just to get picked up and taken to where I
started, and aimed in the opposite direction. After a solid hour of
another hill I realized that I couldn't keep walking, I was out of
food, and low on water. I had to stop at a pic-nic area and sit and
wait for a ride. After about 30 mins I was riding in the nicest car I
probably ever will ride in. It was a Mercedes-Benz and I was
impressed. After that I had no probelm making it the rest of the way
to the train station, and to my advantage I arrived there about 10
mins before the last train for the day.

As I arrived in Barcelona I realized all the Hostel addresses I
printed off in France, were still in France. I tried as hard as I
could to remember some name, a street name or a metro station name was
all I really needed, and before I knew it I was at a loss. So being at
a rather central location of the city I figured walking in any
direction hostels would be rather easy to find. After about 2 hours I
figured I was wrong. At about 11pm I decide to surrender myself to
some sort of 1 star hotel, and as I walk in and ask the price I find
out that that too is going to cost me. It was about 45 Euro, and as
tired as I was I was determined to stay under 30. The man behind the
desk at this single star hotel saw my distress and told me about a
hostel just down the street. I thanked him and moved on. I made it
only about half the distance he told me to go and stumbled upon a
place called "Parisian Hostel" I ducked into the doorway and in no
time was being buzzed up the stairs to the reception. It was sort of
odd, it shared the building with a tattoo parlor, and various other
businesses When I got into the lobby of the hostel I was greeted by a
young Spainish girl dressed in PJ´s I asked for the cheapest room, and
she showed me to a skinny room with a double bed and dresser. I was
confused and was worried I´d be paying the 30 euros I told myself I´d
pay. So I asked the price and Spaniard said 15. Thinking this was a
mistake I asked her to write it down, but it was still 15 Euros. I was
fine with this and slept better then I have in the last month and a
half.

That all happened almost a week ago, and I am now In Valencia, staying
at a friend´s flat, it´s very pleasent and the beat is quite a bit
mellower then the last adventure I had. It´s really quite acceptable
though.

I apologize for the length, and realize I´m going to have to erite
another update within the next few days to make up for the major gap
of detail I´m leaving you all. But don´t worry, the next one won´t be
quite the novel.

=Logan, Spain