If you're inspired by Huesca, you might also like to check out Barcelona, Bordeaux and Madrid.
Skiing on New Years Day
New Years Eve can be a hard time... it really can. "Where are we going to go?" "Where's cheap?" "No, I will not play Ring of Fire again." "Does anyone actually know the words to Auld Lang Syne?" "WHO'S GONNA KISS ME AT MIDNIGHT?!" (Only after a few drinks... I obviously don't worry about that otherwise. Obviously.) It's a hard time, but people seem to forget the morning after can be even harder. Hungover. Great way to ring in the New Year. But hungover I was when I woke up at 7.30am on the 1st January this year, and terrible I did feel. Thankfully, the reason I was waking up that early was to go skiing. And so, after tentatively finding my feet, feeling my knees buckle on the way, I hastily tried to shake my brother awake, only to be swatted away; I knocked on my cousins door, only to be yelled at; I went into the living room, only to find my friend passed out on the floor. I was sure someone would tell me later that all this was a sign that it had been "a good night", but I have learned to question that belief. I had a shower and drank dangerous amounts of water, only feeling slightly better. After getting dressed, I allowed myself one last longing look at my bed. Oh, it may have been too small for me, despite my "average" height, but a bed has never looked so tempting. I steeled myself and marched out of the door, and on to the slopes, questioning whether my decision-making in 2013 was as good as my decision-making in 2012. All questions were answered when I saw the first chair-lift... There was absolutely no-one there. I looked at a space which only 24 hours before had been so packed I'd almost suffocated, and I laughed a smug little laugh thinking about all the other "ill" people who were still in bed. I felt like a winner. The resort was empty and I was the first on the lift. I took it straight to the top of the mountain and as the sun emerged over the peak I tried to work out if I'd ever had a better start to a year. I got off and looked down at the perfect, fresh snow.
"The early bird catches the worm," I chuckled, and set off.
I fell over immediately. As it turns out, skiing with no-one around is amazing, but skiing with a hangover is still very difficult. Sheepishly, I dusted myself off, and continued down the mountain like Bambi on skis, very slowly reminding myself how to use my legs. It was the best days skiing I've ever had and I realised that you can sleep in at home, but if you're somewhere new and amazing, you're an idiot if you waste time feeling sorry for yourself.
So, the moral of this story is that my brother, my cousin and my friend are idiots.
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About me in 140 characters or less
Sheffield, United Kingdom.
"I've spent lots of time in Australia, NZ and Spain, and just want to go to more places. The dream is to make films and go to South America."
A bit more about Tom:
"I draw the line at eating... Nothing, I'll try anything once"
"My most essential travel phrase is... Are we there yet?"
"My most memorable souvenir is... I'm not sure I give into buying souvenirs that much, but I always spend too much time looking through photos of trips once I'm back... So photos, I guess!"