Polish Politics and Pagan Festivals

Taking a Hoosier-born, self-declared Polish prince to one of the tiniest countries on the planet is always a bit of a dicey idea. As we left Paris for our short trip to Andorra by way of Girona, Spain, I was hoping that locals wouldn’t mistake my younger, 6 foot 4 inch brother David as either a giant (like he is in Paris) or as a diplomatic mission from the “Kingdom of Indiana” because none of us speak Catalan (the language spoken in Andorra, northeastern Spain, and southwestern France).

Side note: It’s possible that you’ve never heard of Andorra, since I hadn’t until a week before we set foot in the country. In case you are like me, here are some top level glimpses of Andorra. Andorra is a small mountainous nation in the Pyrenees between Spain and France that is one sixth the size of Rhode Island. There are no airports or train stations in Andorra, you can only get there by traversing windy roads. Andorrans have the highest life expectancy in the world. and the country was once actually almost taken over by a clever Russian man who called himself Boris I. Other than that, the country is governed jointly by a bishop from Spain and the president of France. There—that’s Andorra in a nutshell.

The locals didn’t seem to stare too much, and in the end, David even built a few intra- Europe ties. One afternoon he was wearing a classy T-Shirt (a gift from Josh, see photo) with the phrase “Poland is for Wieners” and he was stopped in an elevator by a local who wanted to discuss Polish politics. The man asked David his opinion on Poland’s status within the EU. It was a fairly brief conversation and I think it’s fair to say the local didn’t quite get the nuance of the shirt, thankfully.

Never being ones to miss an opportunity to celebrate an obscure holiday, or frankly anything obscure, we were thrilled to hear that our visit would coincide with the celebration of the Feast of St. Joan in Andorra. The holiday was billed as a celebration of independence for the Catalan people (which seemed a bit confusing given that there is no Catalan nation per say, but I may have missed something), but we were excited to hear about the tradition of fireworks, bonfires and dancing.

It didn’t quite take shape as we thought. There were a lot of fireworks, but not the official variety--most of them set off by teens sporting mullets, M-80’s and lighters. That was not my most favorite part of the country.

At midnight, a crowd had started to gather (no small feat when the entire country only has 70,000 people) and so we waited to see if the big bonfire-ready pile of wood was actually going to be lit as some symbolic moment.

We were not disappointed. There was a parade with witches, devils dressed in white fireproof capes carrying fireworks on spools, drums and men dressed in black with fire on a chain. As Josh said, “I think that this might actually be the dictionary definition of a pagan festival,” I think David and I were wondering if we shouldn’t immediately break out some holy water. But everyone seemed friendly and still smaller than David, so we figured it was all probably OK, so we joined in the parade to the bonfire pit.

After marching through the streets, the band of witches and fire people danced around the big pre-bonfire and then a teenager who had some sort of beauty pageant-esque banner lit the fire. With fireworks still going off very close, we decided we had seen all of what we needed for the moment and headed off for a late night dinner at a tapas restaurant, which was not particularly noteworthy except that it was decorated with actual hams with their hoofs still attached hung from the ceiling.

In stark contrast to the fireworks and parades was the time at the spa. The spa, which was more Ikea-esque in its functionality rather than Elizabeth Arden in its luxury, was the perfect way to spend several hours. I was happy that not all of the women were size 0s (I guess there weren’t many Parisian women there) and I suspect that we’ve definitely convinced David that vacations are even better with real r&r built in. I think we might have relaxed so much we forgot to breathe at times.

And now, David has returned back to the States and we have been left chairing the “Dave for French President” fan club. It was a heck of a visit and I even think we might consider launching a small-scale invasion of another country in years to come.

sPg