That morning I awoke with severe backache, as if my lumbar discs had slipped into the gap between the front seats of my friend’s Fiat Uno, joining fag ends and bottle tops on that rancid carpet. I blinked as the sun’s first rays reflected off the snowy peaks opposite our parking spot, perched on the side of a steep mountain valley above a glistening river that snaked off towards both Spain and France. This was a metaphorical and literal high point on my first-ever road trip – a drive from Guildford to Barcelona with school friend Josh and a tatty tent – though my back might beg to differ!

The pain would have been worse had I not been somewhat anaesthetised by the vodka we had bought the day before at one of the many duty-free stores lining Andorra’s roads. With the Pyrenees Mountains looming above, this may just be the prettiest place in the world for duty-free shopping – it certainly beats any airport I’ve been to! It also provides a perfect complement to the nation’s ski resorts; I imagined holidaymakers traversing the slopes straight into a store to commence the après-ski toute de suite.

Andorra may be the 16th smallest nation in the world, but it punches above its weight as a popular destination for both winter sports and duty-free shopping, including for alcohol, electronic devices, tobacco and clothing, as well as a magnet for wealthy expats due to a favourable tax regime.

Furthermore, a feudal system of government added considerable colour at the time of our visit. Since the 13th century, Andorra had owed allegiance to two ‘co-princes’ – the French head of state and the Spanish bishops of Urgell – who governed via their representatives. Nowadays, the government is elected by the Andorran people though the French President and the Bishop of Urgell retain a symbolic role as joint heads of state.  

The car creaked under the weight of bottles and cans as we drove down to Barcelona, but, gradually, the load lightened and my backache eased. On arrival, we found a city buzzing with the excitement of the Olympics and a new companion: a larger-than-life character nicknamed ‘Smiley Jim’, an unrepentant squatter who regaled us with colourful tales from the fringes of society. To the soundtrack of ‘The Revolution Will Not Be Televised’, blaring from Smiley Jim’s battered speakers, we roamed the streets, soaking up the atmosphere and oozing out the rebellious spirit of youth, ready to take on the world.

But that’s another story. As for Andorra, over thirty years later I’m yet to return, but my sole night there still counts as one of the most painful and picturesque I’ve spent on this earth.    

Photo credit: Theo Savoy on Pexels